Butterfly Tattoo (38 page)

BOOK: Butterfly Tattoo

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He put his bag down—he’d told her earlier it contained his camera—and hung his coat up before taking hers.

“I like it here,” he murmured, drawing her into the main room. “I don’t suppose I’d have imagined you in a room with these deep purples and golds. And yet, looking at you now, here, it works. It’s regal.” He stood in front of her, the bed only steps away. He drew the backs of his fingers down her cheek and she relaxed. She knew this man, he knew her. Everything would be fine.

“You still with me, Cat?”

She reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and off, tossing it on the chair behind her. Releasing the clip that held most of her hair, she sent it cascading down her back and shoulders.

“Yes. You?”

“Good Lord, you’re beautiful.” He bent his body, dipping his head to brush his lips across her bare shoulder briefly.

“Would you like a beer or a glass of wine? It’s a bit chilly, I thought I’d start a fire before we got naked.”

“I approve of your priorities. What sort of beer and or wine do you have?”

“Take your sweater off first. I want to see you. Or part of you for now.” Caitlin realized her voice had shifted lower, into a sort of purr. It had been a while since sex had been more than a perfunctory meeting of a need. A long while since she’d truly felt sexual, especially sexy herself. Perhaps it was that he represented a part of herself she’d lost.

“Pleased to oblige you.” His sweater joined her shirt and she sighed happily. His upper body was beautiful. Hard but not bulked. Just the right amount of muscle. She was unwilling to stop herself from sliding her palms across his pecs, delighting in the way they jumped at her caress. Just the right amount of hair on his chest, lovely, flat nipples she remembered were very sensitive.

“You’re still so very delicious.”

He groaned when she scored his nipples with her short fingernails. “I don’t think I’ve been called delicious since I had a very satisfying fling with this American who worked in my dad’s pub a few years back.”

“Hmm. Sounds like my kind of girl.”

Laughing, he kissed each one of her hands and she pulled him toward the kitchen.

“I’ve got some merlot, a decent cab.” She stuck her head in the fridge. “And Corona. I even have lime.” She closed the door and laughed. “Ah! And I’ve got some Jameson.”

“You and me, naked, and Jameson. There’s a fine memory. Come on then, I’ll pour us a stiff one while you get the fire started.”

She indicated where the whiskey and her glasses were and headed to the fireplace, flipping the switch. The gas fireplace burst into life.

“Ah, you cheated. I thought we’d have wood smoke and everything.”

She laughed, taking the glass he held out, downing the amber liquid in two swallows. The heat of it spread through her body. It was a good thing she didn’t have to be at work the next day.

“Gas. Flip a switch and it’s on. No fussing with kindling, no pollutants, just instant fire.”

“Let’s get down to business then, my fine lass.” He winked.

One arm caught her about the waist and hauled her against his body. Both of them gasped at the sensation of naked skin meeting naked skin. Well, almost naked.

He must have read her mind because as his lips met hers, he reached between them and popped the catch between her breasts and she shimmied out of her bra, never breaking the kiss.

The warmth of his hands slid up her spine as his work-hard palms moved upward, kneading, holding her against him as he kissed her.

Caitlin would have said he seduced her with that kiss. Slow at first, gentle, almost teasing. And then it deepened as his tongue danced into her mouth, sinuously caressing hers. It was as if that kiss bloomed her back into life, brought her sexuality back from a long nap into full awareness.

Her breathing sped as her heart pounded. Blind need filled her. Her nails dug into his shoulders, making him groan. She eagerly swallowed the sound, taking it into herself.

“Oh, Cat, you need this, don’t you, darlin’?” He broke away before kissing from one shoulder to the other, a feather-light combination of lips and breath. Gooseflesh broke out in waves as her gut tightened and heat settled between her legs.

Desperate for relief, she squeezed her thighs together but the rub of the denim and the lace of her panties only made things worse.

“Shhh, let me take the edge off.”