by Jena Petrie
Too late for that. She was in his hands and under his spell, frantic for his kisses to replace this build-up of tension. It converted her insides to a flickering, popping, sparking flame of unfamiliar sensations. This was nothing like her previous experiences, even the last one before Sam gave her the brush-off. Now after three years of abstinence she'd reverted to being a novice who needed a list of instructions detailing how far she could go and what to expect.
Not this stomach-churning anxiety.
Not this continuous change of direction, emphasis and aim that made her head spin like the body of a pirouetting ballerina.
Instead of returning to her lips as she expected, Connor retraced his route, kissing her jaw, her neck, her throat and back to below her ear, teasing nerve endings with unfulfilled promises with every touch of his lips.
Pangs of desire sped her breaths, her body heating more at every touch and her fingers slipped to his arms, nails digging in, desperate. Couldn't he tell she needed his lips back on hers?
"Like that, do you?" His tongue ran over her lips and she moaned again as he finally answered her need.
The duration of his kisses slowly increased yet remained gentle and unobtrusive, as if afraid of breaking her barriers too quickly.
Unable to help herself, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the feelings—the nip of his teeth on her lips, the groan as it erupted from her throat, her arms as they curled around his neck and her lips as they responded to his and she kissed him right back.
Because now she knew.
Connor had rescued her from her long-held fears of being close to a man, guaranteeing her trust. This guy turned her on in a gentle, considerate manner. He pushed only so far at a time, taking care not to rush. Connor would never seduce a girl past what she wanted, never take things too far without permission.
Total opposite to his reputation.
What a guy.
"God, Bailey." His tongue played with hers, encouraging her to join the game and she danced with his in an impromptu, erotic ritual of their own. The raspberry sweet he'd had on the plane still lingered in his mouth, adding to her pleasure.
When he broke away even his eyes smiled. "Was that so bad?"
"Nooo."
"You taste of sugary lime," he told her, sliding his finger across her lips. "Sweet, like the rest of you. Sweeter than chocolate, sweeter than pavlova, peaches and cream."
"No way. Nothing is sweeter than pavlova and cream."
"You like pavlova?"
"Mmmm." As much as she liked him and the feeling continued to grow. She ran her finger over his lips. "You taste like raspberry shortcake."
"Which you adore, I hope?" and he flashed that oh-so-sexy smile again.
This time, her toes curled. "Of course." Why had she kept away from him all this time? He sure knew how to kiss a girl until her body answered the call and she begged for more. Holding his face between her hands she kissed his lips.
It was only supposed to be a brief touch—never meant to be long, or deep, or any other sort of commitment but somehow it kept going while she wrapped both arms around his neck.
His hand snuck up under her T-shirt, his fingers cold on her warmed skin; exactly like Sam's the day he proudly explained how he'd used her to attract his sport's selectors. The day he'd told her he'd never been attracted to her, sexually.
"No!" Her body jerked away, arms lashing out as her legs marched backwards until she hit the wall. Oh, God. Why had she remembered that experience when this one had been so different?
Looking at Connor proved impossible since her head refused to lift. Just as well when seeing his response would be unbearable. So she buried her face in suddenly damp hands, trying to still the shudders threatening to tear her body apart. "I'm... sorry. I-I can't go on. I-I had a bad experience..." Her hand swatted the air as explanations failed to surface and frustration pounded a hammer in her head. "Before!"
God, what had she done? Led him on. Made him think she could do this; believed it herself, too.
Wrong. So wrong.
She couldn’t even do it with Connor. And if she couldn't allow Connor close, what hope was there that she'd ever recover?
This would be the end for them. He'd kick her out now. Send her back home. What use was she to this gorgeous man when she couldn't even accept his advances? It wasn't as if she hadn't been warned. No. He'd been dropping hints almost ever since they met, seven weeks ago. The pity of it was, if he kicked her out now she'd never live down the shame of his rejection.
No words came from Connor. No movement either, from what she could tell with her eyes largely covered.
Spreading her fingers, she peeked out.
Oh, there was reaction all right. Not verbally or even violently, yet frustration oozed off him, demonstrated by his locked jaw and fingers hooked together.
Yet what hit her in the heart was the sadness in his eyes as he stood. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you past that. Couldn't meet your needs."
Poor guy. It wasn't just the sex he'd missed out on. What upset him even more was the disappointment of not measuring up. And if that didn't ratchet her guilt to the top of Mt Everest, nothing would.
If he'd shouted, hit or thrown something to let out the anger she might have been able to cope, but this silence did nothing to solve the problem. And for as long as he remained in her room there was no way she could stop the churning inside her that threatened to spill like a ruptured water pipe.
Even if he said nothing, she'd have to leave tomorrow because after this, she'd never be able to face him again.
Slowly, he walked the few paces to the door. "If you ever feel ready for more, let me know." Without a backward glance he disappeared around the corner, allowing her to finally collapse, exhausted, onto the bed.
CHAPTER 13
"Come on, sleepyhead. Wake up." Beside Bailey's head, Connor's hand made a crater in her pillow. "I've done half a day's work already and you're still in bed."
Last night when she didn't respond to his call to dinner he'd come to check on her, and found her asleep in the foetal position, still dressed. The shock had punched him in the belly and made him wish to hell he'd never touched her. And when he found her pillow wet from tears he'd collapsed on the floor, silently begging her forgiveness. Not till minutes later did he finally get his shit together and devised a plan of making up to her.
So, besides wearing the Dunedin T-shirt her parents had given him for Christmas, he now had a special surprise for Bailey, waiting outside on his mate's trailer.
Except that wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
He waved his steaming coffee cup near her nose. "I'm taking you sightseeing today but training's at three so we have to hurry."
"Sightseeing? Really?" A smile began to stretch across her face as her eyes opened.
Beautiful green eyes.
"And coffee. What a lovely way to–." The smile vanished, replaced by what could almost be described as fear. Uncertainty, at least.
"Yeah, but this isn't for you. It's mine," and he sipped the drink.
"What? You come in here, teasing me with that arresting aroma, promising me a day out—"
"So you'll get up. Or do I have to pull the covers off you as well?"
"Don't you dare." As she sat up, a nervous breath shuddered all the way to her lungs and automatically, he tensed.
How much of last night did she remember? And how much blame would she level at him?
The duvet lifted and she looked underneath; frowned. "You covered me?"
"I did. Would have undressed you, too, only—" With a laugh, he caught her pillow one-handed. Didn't even spill his drink, either.
"Undoing the button on my jeans was quite enough."
"Not for me," he teased, chuckling as he left the room.
"What's for breakfast besides coffee?"
"Nothing, if you take too long in there," he called as she disappeared into the bathroom while he returned to the kitchen.
Ten minutes la
ter she reappeared, her cheeks a healthy pink and her eyes bright as she leaned across the kitchen divide. "I'm not going barmy, am I? There's a computer desk and chair in my room that weren't there before." Her brows drew together over those intriguing eyes. "Was it?"
"Not going barmy over that, anyway." He took a moment's pause from assembling ingredients to glance at her.
Immediately, the frown disappeared, replaced by the previous excitement. "You bought me a desk? Wow. Thank you so much."
Pancake mix poured from the packet into the bowl in front of him. "Encouragement for your writing so you needn't worry about getting a job."
"Oh. Right."
He added milk to the mixture and began stirring. "Hope the desk's okay; shape, height, size?"
She'd gone. Rushed off to check it out, probably. So he carried the bowl with him and followed her, arriving as she adjusted the height of the chair, and pretended to type.
"It's perfect, Connor. Thanks a heap." She stepped towards him, stretched up on her toes, and kissed his cheek.
"That's all I get?" After dumping the bowl down, he leaned forward, lips puckered.
"You've got breakfast to make," she reminded him, pulling out the drawers at the far end.
"How about a proper kiss first. For the desk?"
But instead of closing the gap between them she bent over the item and kissed its veneered surface.
A bark of laughter exploded out of him and he continued to chuckle, all the way back to the kitchen.
By the time she reappeared in jeans and a loose tee he'd started dishing pancakes onto the plates.
Elbows on the divide and chin in her hands, she watched his movements. "Look, I'm sorry about my reactions yesterday. I blame my ex. Thought we had a good relationship but apparently he was just using me. Seems he's spoiled me for another relationship and I don't know how to get over it."
"Keep trying, honey." And he'd keep hinting.
At the table she paused before starting her meal. "Are you really taking me out today?"
"Sure am."
"Where to?"
"Not telling." He poured syrup on his pancakes. "You're okay in those casual clothes if that's what you're worried about, but you'd better take a jacket or something in case it gets cold later." And if she believed that referred to the weather, she hadn't lived here long enough.
She glanced out the window. "Are you kidding? It's hot as, out there."
"That could change."
"Yeah, right, and I could turn into a butterfly."
"Stay in the district awhile and you'll see how changeable it can be. But I didn't mean it might be cold outside. It was inside I meant."
Gorgeous green eyes grew brighter as she studied his face but he kept his expression bland as he finished eating.
"I didn't know there were any ice rinks in this part of the country."
He hid the grin as he carried the empty plates to the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. "We'll go as soon as you're ready."
Ten minutes later they passed the open road sign and sped up, heading south towards the limestone caves.
"Waitomo."
Spoken like she'd just cracked a difficult puzzle.
"Didn't think it'd take you long to figure it out. Been there before?"
"No, never. Always wanted to though."
"Good. I decided you needed to experience some of the area. Help you feel at home. See?" He pointed to the animals in the paddocks beside the road. "Farms; cows, horses. Doesn't that look familiar?"
"Yes and no and I've seen it all before, like on the way to and from the airport, remember?"
"Just wasn't sure how much you'd noticed. Last time, I had my mind on other things."
"What? Mares and stallions, cows and bulls?"
"Not quite," but he grinned. At least she was on the right track. Back with their former easygoing banter too, thank God.
"No ewes or rams here, no wire fences like near home. Different, you see."
"Won't be soon, if you stick around."
***
Bailey stretched her arm and grabbed Connor's outstretched hand, allowing him to pull her from the boat and onto the path at the bottom of the hill. With her other hand she retrieved sun glasses from her pocket and slipped them on. "That's quite a contrast from the darkness inside the caves but what an amazing place! So alien, dark, mysterious and eerie, and the limestone formations, once I adjusted to the dark, out of this world."
"Seeing the glow worms on the ceiling was as good as viewing the stars at Mt Cook."
"What about the singing in the Cathedral Cave? We were so lucky to have those sisters in our group with their harmonious voices."
"And prepared to sing for us." His hand against her back pushed her up the path. "I haven't been here in a long time. Came with Pete soon after I moved up here." At the top of the hill the path opened into an open-air cafe and he paused near the counter.
"We're having lunch here? Please say yes; breakfast was such a long time ago. I've got hunger pains so strong they're threatening to turn into a musical symphony."
"Can't have that, but is it okay with you if we just grab something from the cabinet? Quicker that way."
"Yeah, sure. Are we going to do something like this every week?"
"Sorry, babe, but there might not be enough places to take you in the time I have spare."
"Of course." Connor's rowing would always come first. And if he was tired, there'd be no chance of an outing at all.
Halfway through her salad she stopped to sip her orange drink. "Thanks a heap for bringing me. It was so awesome, I think I'll write another travel article; see if the travel editor at the Dunedin paper is interested."
Connor's salad roll dropped onto the wrapper. "Didn't he say he'd publish anything else you wrote?"
"Look at it, was what he said. Anyway, that's just one reason I'll write the article. Having something to do will be a whole lot better than wasting time searching for a job when there are none to find."
"You've only looked on the internet," he accused after sipping his juice.
"Where most jobs are advertised these days."
"Now that you live here, you could go out asking. Meeting a prospective boss might make a huge difference."
"You mean once I've batted my eyelashes at him he'll be convinced he needs me?"
Connor's grin was gorgeous; sexy and cheeky at the same time and Bailey's bones started to melt. Would the easy camaraderie they'd shared at Mt Cook ever come back? It had to, or this move north would be futile.
"Worked for me."
"What?" Reaching across the table, she punched his arm. "I did not bat my eyelids at you! Why would I, when you looked like you could eat me alive once you saw my camera?"
"That aggressive, huh? Changed attitude pretty quickly though, didn't I?"
"Quickly? Instantaneous, you mean. Like the time it takes for a light to come on after turning the switch. Took me quite unawares. A relief, but a shock as well, and you never explained why."
Finishing his last mouthful, he squished the paper bag into a ball. "It was you, a cox'n: someone I could relate to, begging for my help to change your career. I admired your determination, the self-confidence you had in spades and your future all mapped out; and couldn't refuse."
Determination? Self-confidence? Where had they gone?
He turned on that slow, sexy smile of his.
And as usual, it warmed her from the inside out. If she'd kept those qualities, perhaps she'd have been able to accept his advances last night.
One day. One day she'd be ready, as long as it was on her terms, not his.
Connor glanced at his watch. "We'll go when you're finished."
So she swallowed the last of her salad and reached for her orange juice. "Will the coach be there? The one who needs a cox'n?"
About to push his empty chair into the table, his fingers stilled. "Sorry, babe, but the vacancy's gone. Taken by a woman who'd moved up from Invercargill."
"Oh!" Her fingers dropped from the bottle. "Wh-when did this happen?"
"Not sure. A week or two ago but I didn't hear—"
"You didn't tell me... on purpose." The betrayal stung, her breaths coming quicker than usual as she stared up at him. At this good-looking man she'd begun to trust. The one she believed had her best interests at heart. "When, exactly?"
"Don't know." The second his empty bottle hit the table he hauled her to her feet. "Honestly, hon, I don't know. Only heard about it on the grapevine and when I checked, it was true. Then I didn't know how to tell you but it doesn't alter the fact that you needed to get away from Mosgiel. There's bound to be another chance to cox next season." His hand against her back, he pushed her into the souvenir shop, around customers, displays, and the counter. "It'll work out. You'll see."
Dreaming, wasn't he? "I suppose you'll need a ride home after training."
"Na. Thanks anyway, but I'll run."
To avoid any unnecessary contact? "Can I stay and watch for a bit?"
Outside the noise and melee of the shop he paused, his full attention directed at her. "No photos. No reporting. No comments."
Her fists landed on her hips. "Watch, I said. I'll even leave my camera in the car to prevent any temptation. Alright?"
"I guess."
After giving such devastating news he should have been more agreeable towards any request of hers but she'd keep pushing. High time he remembered she had goals, too.
***
"Fizzlepricks!" Bailey stamped her foot on the wooden pontoon. Another crew change and still Connor wasn't in his favourite seat. More variety?
Only a minute later Connor's boat reached the other side of the lake, looking too tiny to be worth watching. Head down, she turned to leave. What more could she do to convince Jeff? To help Connor? Surely he'd proven himself by now.
A pace from the pontoon she stopped when a pair of bare feet blocked her path. Her gaze travelled past painted red toenails, up long tanned legs, a two-tone blue row suit, shapely body and into the face of an attractive girl with white-blonde hair.