Suddenly Last Summer (32 page)

It took a while for either of them to move or speak.

She was aware of the solid weight of him, of the strength of him as he held her, of the uneven rasp of his breathing as he struggled for control. And as for her—

She lay stunned, staring up at the ceiling of her little bedroom, trying not to panic.

What had happened?

“Holy hell—” He dropped his head onto her shoulder and then eased away from her, rolling onto his back and dragging her with him. “I’m proud of us.”

“Sorry?”

“We made it to the bed. For us, that’s a major achievement.”

Even in bed he made her smile. The panic faded. “The top of the bed. We didn’t manage to pull back the covers. I hope you didn’t drop bits of forest on my white bedcover. It’s very precious to me.” After the intensity of what they’d shared, it calmed her to keep the conversation light.

He lifted himself onto his elbow and eyed the pretty bed piled with soft cushions. “Who the hell has a white bedcover?”

“I do. It’s silk. It belonged to my mother.”

“Fine—next time we’ll just stay in the forest. Anywhere. I’ll give up the pretense of being a modern, sophisticated man. With you I’m right back in the cave, ready to spear something for you to cook.”

Laughing, flattered, she slid her hand over his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of stubble over her palm. “You’d ruin your shoes.”

“Damn, I knew there’d be a catch.” He leaned forward and kissed her mouth. “For you it would be worth it. So are you going to come and live in my cave?”

She knew he was joking but her heart beat a little faster. “Does your cave have silk sheets?”

“Not yet, but it will once you move in.”

“I’ll think about it. Or maybe we could just live in the forest. I love the forest.” She slid her hand to his shoulder, feeling pumped-up muscle and hard strength. He was more powerfully built than Pascal but she knew this man would never use his strength to hurt someone. That was a weakness and Sean was strong right to the core. “I liked being with you in the rain.”

His eyes darkened. “Great. The one thing I can’t fix for you. Maybe I should go outside and do my rain dance. Or we could use the shower. Would that count?”

“I like that idea. Shower and then sex on my silk sheets.”

“Sorry? All I got from that was the word
sex.
After that I zoned out.” His hand slid into her hair. “The shower is a great idea in theory, but I’m six-two and I’m not sure there’s room in there for both of us. I built that shower, remember? Tyler grumbled nonstop for three days because he kept banging his head when he was tiling. The sloping roof was a bitch to work around.”

“I think it’s charming. And I think it’s time to test its possibilities, don’t you?”

“Yes. No. Christ, I don’t know— Don’t ask me to think. I can’t think while you’re lying there naked.” His mouth found hers, rough, seeking as he plundered her lips. “You taste like heaven. I could kiss you all night.”

“I hope you will. It would be a shame to waste the time. You don’t come home often enough for that.”

“I’m thinking of moving back.”

Smiling, she slid out of bed and walked to the shower, knowing he was watching every movement.

In two strides he was behind her, ducking into the shower, cursing about the size of the room.

Although the space was small it was cleverly designed, a stylish wet room with Italian tiles and glass. The O’Neils had taste and the finish was perfect.

The room always gave her pleasure, but tonight it gave her more than that. It gave her heat and possibilities. And Sean. Here, in this confined space, she was even more aware of the raw power of the man.

Lifting her gaze to his, she saw desire burning in his eyes and knew he was seeing the same in hers.

“Rainfall. But presumably not cold.” He adjusted the controls so that the water flowed at the right temperature. Every movement he made was purposeful and she felt her stomach squirm and her blood heat as he gave a wicked smile and reached for the soap. His hands were large and strong and he stroked every inch of her, leaving no part untouched until she was gasping and pliant under the fall of water, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

He was as physical as she was. As passionate and unrestrained.

Slow foreplay was never going to work for them. Once again the meeting of their mouths was more of a collision than a kiss, the stroke of his tongue hot and sensual, the nip of his teeth adding a ferocity she found deeply thrilling.

She breathed in the scent of him, stroked her hands over hard muscle and glistening male flesh, listened to the harsh sound of his breathing. When he lifted her and fastened his mouth over her breast, she let her head fall back, lost in the excitement, the sensations, the pleasure that burst around her with each slow flick of his skilled tongue. She wrapped her legs around him, feeling the smoothness of him brush against her but he held her high, for once denying her what she wanted and needed.

“No—” he growled the words against her throat “—not yet.”

“Yes, now.” She drove her hands into his hair, brought her mouth down on his and moved her hips, but he was stronger and he held her tightly, trapping her movements against him so that she could do nothing to alleviate the growing ache in her pelvis.

“I want you. Again and again—” He pressed her back against the wall, kissing her long and hard as he reached out and killed the flow of water. Without the rush of water the only sounds were the jagged rush of their breathing. “How do I stop feeling this? Tell me, because at this rate I’m not going to be able to go to work on Monday.” With those words he peeled away another layer of her protection but before she could try and snatch it back he grabbed a towel from the rail and wrapped her in it, still kissing her. His movements were rough and uncoordinated but that made it all the hotter. The fact that this normally sophisticated, controlled man was thoroughly out of control around her, escalated her own excitement to fever pitch and she told herself that self-protection could wait. That this was still just sex.
Just sex.

His hair gleamed dark with droplets of water and he picked her up and deposited her on the bed, naked and slightly damp.

“Do your sheets mind a little water?” He didn’t stop kissing her, trailing his mouth and tongue down her body. The heat was intense. The chemistry so powerful her belly cramped with it. When he raised himself over her she grabbed his shoulders, dragging him down to her. She felt him, thick and hard against her and then he rolled onto his back and pulled her onto him so she straddled him.

They were both so aroused there was no question of taking it slow or holding back. She dug her nails into the sleek, hard muscle of his shoulders and sank down onto him, taking him deep.

“God, Élise.” He groaned deep in his throat, thrust his hands in her hair and drew her head down to his. She sank her teeth into his lower lip and he retaliated in kind, his eyes locked on hers as he drove into her. His eyes were dark with heat and raw desire, his jaw clenched in a face so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. But she did. She looked and so did he. There was no hiding, no pretending, just the same honesty with which their whole relationship had been conducted. She felt herself start to fall, felt her own spasms grip his straining shaft and heard his agonized groan as he lost his own struggle to hold on to control. Sensation swamped her, crashed over her in brutal waves and he smothered her cry with his mouth as he thrust deep and emptied himself.

Recovery took a while.

Drained, shattered, she lay on his chest, aware of the warmth of his hand against her back, the protective curve of his arm. As her heart rate slowly approached normality, she tried to move but he held her trapped and shifted slightly so that he could drag the duvet over them both.

It was the final intimacy. An intimacy she hadn’t allowed herself since Pascal.

Frowning, she was about to slide out of his arms and make noises about him going home when he turned his head, hauled her against him and kissed her again.

He was a master kisser. He knew just how to use that clever mouth of his to rob a woman of willpower and he’d done it to her on numerous occasions, but not this time. This time his intent wasn’t seduction, it was tenderness and the slow gentle nature of the kiss rocked her world.

Shaken by feelings she couldn’t identify, she stared into those seductive blue eyes and felt everything inside her melt.

He clearly intended to spend the night and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“Do you honestly think that sleeping in the same bed is any more intimate than what we just shared?” The fact that he could read her so easily scared her.

“I don’t do this. And neither do you. You don’t ever spend the night with a woman.” She knew Sean had broken as many hearts as he’d mended bones. “You walk away. Every time.”

“Sweetheart, I can tell you there is no way I am capable of walking anywhere.” His eyes closed and a hint of a smile touched his firm mouth. “My body has ceased to function.”

Panic unfurled inside her.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Fine, but come straight back.”

Extracting herself from his grip, she rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom, wondering if he’d take the opportunity to leave once she was no longer in the room.

Churned up and confused, she took her time in the bathroom.

Ten minutes later she opened the door.

And saw Sean asleep on the bed.

He lay sprawled, long strong limbs stretched out, his left arm flung above his head. Those thick dark lashes that normally took second place to those blue eyes fanned bronzed skin and a strong bone structure.

Élise stood for a moment, locked in indecision. She could join him, but that would mean waking together and that would put their relationship on a whole other level and she didn’t want that.

She could wake him now and ask him to go and sleep at Jackson’s but he already slept the deep sleep of exhaustion. She knew his work was punishing and the events of the past few weeks had placed extra demands on his stamina. He showed nothing, absorbed stress and pressure like blotting paper, but still the effects were there.

There was no way she could wake him. She wasn’t that selfish.

With a sigh, she accepted that she wasn’t going to move him, which gave her two choices.

This time, she allowed her brain to make the choice, easing the covers over him so he didn’t get cold in the night.

Then she picked up a couple of pillows, pulled out a blanket from the white wicker basket at the bottom of her bed and resigned herself to a night on the couch.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

S
EAN
WOKE
TO
the call of birds and the sounds of the lake and lay for a minute, his brain still shrouded in sleep, his limbs heavy. It took him a moment to ease into the day and remember where he was.

Heron Lodge.

In Élise’s bed.

But there was no sign of Élise. A single glance told him she hadn’t spent any part of the night in her own bed.

He’d crashed out and she’d slept—where?

“Shit.” He groped for his watch, saw that it was past eight o’clock and knew it was already too late to avoid awkward questions from his twin brother. Unable to remember the last time he’d slept this late, he rose and went in search of Élise but Heron Lodge was empty. Fresh coffee sat on the counter, cold, evidence that she’d left a while ago.

She hadn’t hung around for slow morning sex, or even morning-after conversation.

He probably should have been relieved. It surprised him to discover that he wasn’t.

He bit into one of the pastries she’d left on the plate, took a moment to admire her skill as a chef and then heated the coffee. It was only when he lifted the mug to his lips that he noticed the blanket folded neatly on the couch.

He lowered the coffee.

She’d slept on the couch?

Guilt, sharp and unfamiliar, stabbed him along with other emotions that were unfamiliar and unrecognizable.

Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned to find her standing in the doorway wearing the shortest pair of running shorts he’d seen. Her dark hair was held back from her face by a band and her cheeks were pink.

Lust punched right through his body. It didn’t matter what she was wearing, he wanted her.

“Why did you sleep on the couch?”

“Because you were in the bed.”

Given that they’d spent half the night locked together it seemed like flawed logic to him.

“The bed was big enough for both of us. I didn’t intend to kick you out. You’ve made me feel guilty.”

“Why would you feel guilty over something that was my decision?” She walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge and poured herself a long glass of ice water.

Sean wondered whether pouring it over himself would solve his problem.

The tension in the atmosphere was enough to give a person heatstroke.

His pulse was thrumming. He was hard as rock. He wanted to power her back against the kitchen counter and remove those shorts. He wanted to spread her legs, taste her, bury himself in her. He wanted to feel her bite down on his lip, feel her tongue in his mouth and her hands on his skin. He wanted to feel the fire again, be burned up by it. But he also wanted to see her laugh, see that dimple, listen to her spill secrets and feel the rush that came from knowing she’d begun to trust him at least a little bit. That he was the one who had broken through those barriers. He wanted to protect her and reassure her that not all men were like Pascal. He wanted to tell her that they were good together.

But how could he do that?

When had he ever been anything but bad news for any woman?

His history was littered with relationships that had ended. When the hospital called, when his patients needed him, he dropped everything and he wasn’t prepared to change that. He wasn’t prepared to make the sacrifice that needed to be made for a relationship to work.

So why was he still standing here?

Apparently unaware of his turmoil, Élise drank deeply, rinsed the glass and put it down. Cool. Calm. “I have to shower and then get over to the restaurant. Thanks for a lovely evening, Sean. It was fun.”