How could he be so comforting and so frustrating? I wanted to believe that I’d seen more of who he really was than anyone. I lost myself in the increased rhythm of his heartbeat and deep, heavy breaths. Nuzzling his nose into my neck, he whispered something unintelligible on my skin. As I lifted my head, his lips met mine. I ached for him, craving his touch. I sighed into his lush kiss, melting in his arms.
Sliding his hands over my hips, he snuck them under my shirt. My skin welcomed his touch, warming immediately. It was a rush, a frisson of excitement that sent tremors through me. He groaned, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, biting it gently.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, pulling my hips into him. The friction from his arousal rubbing against me made me gasp.
“Why?”
“This look you have right now,” he growled. “Flushed cheeks with gleaming eyes. This is how you looked when we met. Do you know how hard it is to control myself when you look like this?”
“Keep kissing me.” I didn’t recognize the sound of my own voice. It was so low and breathy.
Alastair looked me in the eye steadily. I held his electric gaze, not breathing. He crushed his lips to mine, banding his arms under my backside and lifting me off the floor. I was barely aware of the movement. I sank into the plush softness of the mattress as he laid me on his bed. Hovering over me, he dragged his eyes down my body.
He lowered his head, kissing the crook of my neck while unbuttoning my jeans. I tilted my hips up so he could pull them off without much difficulty. Pressing his lips and tongue harder on my neck, he sucked a soft patch of skin into his mouth.
"Are you trying to mark me?" I buried my fingers in his thick hair. His only response was a muffled grunt. As good as it felt, I wanted his mouth somewhere else.
He traced his fingers along the edge of my lace boy shorts. “This,” he whispered, inching his finger along the thin material, “is too wet to stay on.” My toes curled as he deftly ripped it off.
“We should— oh my God!”
He slipped a finger inside me so quickly I lost my train of thought and all command of language.
“It’s my turn to take you by surprise, love.” His stare was fiercely sensual and dark. “We should what? Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” I moaned while he slid his finger in and out, excruciatingly slowly. Clasping his shoulders, I focused on nothing but his touch. A second finger joined the unhurried, rhythmic movements of the one already tantalizing me. As he massaged me, my eyelids fluttered closed.
“Look at me,” Alastair ordered thickly. I snapped my head up and held his dominating stare. It was all too much; his eyes, his fingers, his ragged breathing. I closed them again.
“Open. Your. Eyes.”
His breath tickled my ear, awakening parts of me I didn’t know existed. My lids popped open. He kissed me, curling his fingers.
All my muscles clenched viciously. I gasped, breaking our mouths apart. His eyes glittered a vibrant green as he watched me lose myself in him. The delicious, warm climb that I hadn’t felt in ages ravaged me. Pressing his cheek to mine, he stroked my inner thigh. “Don’t come yet.”
I writhed beneath him as he repositioned himself between my legs. The second his tongue flicked against my hypersensitive skin I jerked my hips up. He splayed his fingers across my stomach, holding me down. A slow burn spread through me, blossoming out from where he expertly worked me with his mouth. I clawed at the sheets.
“Alastair.” I arched my back, rolling my hips.
Hooking his arms under my thighs, he clamped his hands down on my legs, preventing any further movement. I dug my heels into the mattress. The velvet warmth of his tongue entered me once, twice, then withdrew, circling my clit. He sealed his mouth against it, sucking softly. The exquisite sensation seared me. I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled. He sucked harder, setting off an orgasm so powerful I launched myself backwards and smacked into the headboard.
He wouldn’t stop. I tensed and shook with anticipation before descending into another fuzzy oblivion, moaning his name. Euphoria trickled through me, relaxing each and every muscle. I sank further into the bed, enjoying the soft kisses he placed along each inner thigh and up to my stomach.
The heaviness of his body surrounded me. Pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of my shoulders, he lowered his head so his face was inches from mine.
“That sounded like it hurt,” he grinned lazily.
“What?” I looked at his amused expression, totally baffled.
He rapped his knuckles on the headboard before stretching out next to me. “That was a pretty big whack. I hope you don’t get a lump.”
“I…this…are you seriously making fun of me right now?” I rolled over to face him.
“Not at all,” he answered, kissing my nose. “You okay, love?”
“I’m fine.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You should really come with a warning label. ‘May cause embarrassing, uncharacteristic episodes.’”
The bed shook from his laughter. I could only fight back my own giggles for a few seconds before I joined him. I savored this moment, reveling in his sexy playfulness. Tiny slivers of insecurity tried to spoil the delicious morsels of pleasure that still flowed through my body. Alastair lay quiet next to me, his laughter subsiding into a satisfied smile.
“You’re staring.”
“Am I?” I propped my head up in my hand. “Your eyes are closed. I could be making a face at you for all you know.”
“I know everything, kitten.” Moving fast, he pinned me on my back, sitting on my legs with his hands at my waist. His mischievous stare was scintillating.
“Alastair Holden, don’t you dare.”
He smiled so widely I was afraid his face would split in two. God, I loved the way he looked poised above me, ready for anything. I squealed in shock at the quick squeeze on my waist.
“There’s that look again.”
“What are you going to do? Tickle it off my face?” I smirked.
Dipping his head so our noses touched, he grinned. “I’ll save that for another time.” He leaned back, climbing off me to sit. I pushed myself up so we faced each other, our knees touching.
My brush with euphoria dissipated the second I saw his expression. He was pale. The frantic thumping of my heart ceased.
“What are you doing to me?” He directed his question more toward the mattress than me.
“Excuse me?”
“You make me…” he said, his eyes widening.
“What? I make you what?” I swallowed back a healthy dose of fear.
He clasped his stomach and for a minute I thought he might be sick. I didn’t know where to look or what to do. I tried not to let my mind race again, but he looked so lost.
“I booked you on a flight in case you were wondering.”
He switched gears so fast, I half expected to get whiplash.
“Right,” I said quietly. “On your plane.”
“No. A commercial airliner. It leaves in the morning. I can— Lia, it’s done. No arguments. I can drop you off at the airport on my way to work.”
I folded my arms, marveling at how he switched from hot to cold and back with almost zero effort. "Fine. Thank you."
“You’re welcome. Sleeping arrangements, then. You can have my bed again and I'll camp out in my office."
What? A streak of desperation surged through me. “You’re not staying with me?”
He didn’t answer right away, which sent me back into panic mode. I rubbed my head to quiet the dull ache.
“I’ll stay,” he murmured, avoiding my gaze. The nagging sliver of insecurity gained some momentum. I became acutely aware that I was naked from the waist down and my underwear was in pieces somewhere on the floor.
“Um, I just need to get some pants or something,” I muttered, getting off the bed. Rummaging through the suitcase, I grabbed the first thing I touched. Gray yoga pants. Jackpot.
I crawled under the b
lankets, waiting for him to join me. The bed shifted as he moved closer, curling up next to me. Ignoring an impulse to wrap myself around him, I folded my arms up under the pillow instead.
“Thank you for letting me stay here. I um, I hope I haven’t been too much of a burden.”
“My pleasure,” he said, brushing his knuckles down my cheek. “And you’ve not been a burden.”
"Next time you're in the States, you'll have to come to Orlando."
“Would you like that?” he asked, almost with a touch of uncertainty.
“Yes.”
He stared at me, expressionless, a hazy film covering his eyes. My heart twisted. He’s withdrawing again. He sighed, pulling me flush against his chest. Sliding his hand over my waist, he rested it on my backside. I hooked my leg between his, fitting with him like a puzzle piece. We were intertwined in such a way that there was no telling where he ended and I began.
“Sleep, my Lia. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
* * *
Whimpering and moaning filled the room. Rousing from sleep, I found most of my face buried in a thick mass of dark red hair. Alastair’s head was nestled on my chest, his body blanketing me with warmth. The grip he had on me was borderline uncomfortable. I attempted to reposition myself without disturbing him too much.
He whined, strengthening his hold. “You always leave.”
I moved again, trying to free myself. His fingers dug into my back. I pressed my hand against his chest, gently pushing him away.
“No. Don’t leave,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “It was my fault.”
Shit. He’s dreaming.
He continued muttering incoherently, becoming more frantic. I was afraid to wake him in the throes of a nightmare but he was crushing me.
“Alastair,” I whispered. “Wake up. Please.”
“DON’T LEAVE! I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
He pushed away from me, sitting up gasping. I scrambled to the edge of the bed. Moonlight streamed in through the windows, casting a pallid glow on the sheen of sweat covering him. The t-shirt he had on stuck to his damp skin. His breathing was harsh and ragged. An overwhelming urge to comfort him flowed through me.
I sat up, keeping my eyes glued to him. He stared straight ahead, his eyes still smoky with sleep. The sheets were fisted in his hands. A few moments later, full consciousness took control. He inhaled deeply and looked at me. Tears stained his face, breaking my heart.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “You’ve had one hell of a nightmare.”
“Oh.” The muscles in his jaw twitched. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Want to tell me about it?”
“No.” He threw off the blankets and stormed out of the room.
His reaction left me stunned for a minute. I was about to follow him, when he came back in with a glass of water. He drank a bit then slid under the covers. Nothing about his demeanor revealed that he’d been crying out in his sleep. The tear-stains were gone along with any signs of distress. He was the same calm, cool-as-ice guy as always. I climbed back into bed and crawled closer to him, hugging into his body. I kissed along his neck and jaw, before pressing my lips to his forehead.
“Hey.” He tangled his fingers through my hair. “What’s wrong?”
I looked into his tired, questioning eyes. I could only imagine how many nights he’d woken up alone, screaming in the dark.
“Nothing.” I kissed him. He rolled us over, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress. He nuzzled into my neck before leaning his cheek to mine.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered, wrapping himself around me protectively. I held him close, stroking his hair. He blew a shaky sigh against my neck before relaxing into my embrace. I whispered to him until his breathing became slow and heavy. The peace and refuge of sleep dissolved any veiled edge his face held when he was awake. How many people have seen him this way? Unguarded and vulnerable.
I watched him sleep until the first rays of sunlight poked through the windows.
CHAPTER NINE
Telephones rang in a disjointed symphony, a cacophony of sound so jarring it could wake the dead. I glanced up from my computer and stared out into the newsroom. It was the second week of May and we were in the middle of a breaking story.
A short, blonde haired woman ran toward me, clutching her bouncing chest.
“Amelia.”
“Yes, Jeanie?”
“I need you. Louise is already in the booth, the writers are up to their ears in video and copy, and Vanessa is freaking out about her package. She’s looking for a sound bite from the transportation presser. Can you find it? Thanks.”
She waltzed off without waiting for an answer. I fumed, aiming a laser stare at her departing backside. I watched her return to her desk, sit in her little slouched position and stare blankly at the computer screen. Yes, you’re so very busy. Don’t want to miss the online early bird sale at Beals? I normally didn’t mind helping out a co-worker, but Jeanie Arrington grated on my last nerve.
“She’s something, isn’t she?”
I flicked my eyes to Sydney Makeeda, my co-worker and cubemate.
“Yep. ‘Something’ fits her perfectly.”
Sydney laughed. “Bet you ten bucks she’ll take the credit for finding the sound bite.”
I sighed, clicking on the file labeled media. The transportation department was dealing with a nightmare on I-4, the main freeway that everyone in Central Florida used at least once a day.
One of the lanes on the eastbound side, midway between Orlando and Lake Mary, had developed a good-sized sinkhole, paralyzing traffic. They were scrambling to get it fixed so people didn't have to spend two hours in their cars for a drive that usually took thirty minutes. I found something decent and emailed it to the editor.
The set was lit up under bright television lights as our evening anchor team, Cynthia Steele and Vance Winters, meandered to the desk fidgeting with their microphones. They droned on about the sinkhole when the show went live.
I glanced at the rundown for the eleven o’clock show and started rearranging some of the stories. The hair that was piled loosely on my head started to slip. I reached up to adjust the makeshift bun, but it was being disobedient so I yanked out the elastic and tossed it on the desk.
"Giving up on the all-business look?" Tyler Garrett mused, sauntering over.
"Shouldn't you be at the assignment desk on a pretend phone call?" I smiled.
"Probably. Are we all going out? You've been back since last week and still haven't told us about the big trip to Scotland."
"I know, I know,” I said, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. “We’re going to The Cottage, right?"
Meeting at the local bar and restaurant was a Friday night ritual for us if we had to work on the late broadcast.
"Yep. Wes is coming too. I'm assuming you'll be there, Sydney?"
"I'll go for a little while,” she said.
“Hey, Tyler,” Gus yelled from the assignment desk, his voice ricocheting through the rafters. “Cops are on the phone. They have new details about the highway.”
Leaning his body against my desk, Tyler exhaled until his lungs were empty. “If either of you get there before me, order me my regular.”
He threw his head back and plodded his way to the desk. A chronic chain smoker and whiskey drinker, Tyler was the hub of cynical fun. As he’d put it, “Not bad for a chubby Jewish kid from Atlanta.”
Sydney leaned forward, clasping the small divider between our desks. “You have been way too quiet about this vacation. If there’s anything you don’t want the boys to know, spill it now.”
I feigned an innocent look and glanced at her. She smiled, drumming her fingers.
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Come on, Lia. I’m married with two kids. My husband thinks switching from Coors Light to Heineken is exciting. You
were surrounded by hot men in kilts for a week. I live vicariously through you.”
I laughed, continuing my dissection of the evening’s rundown. “I’d hate to disappoint you, seeing as you think my life is so exciting, but the only kilts I saw were in display windows on mannequins.”
“Fine,” she pouted.
I hadn’t spoken a word about Alastair to any of my friends at work. The last thing I needed was a barrage of questions from nosy journalists, producers and writers about the media heir I’d been cozy with. Especially since the news broke that Holden World Media bought several network affiliate stations in the U.S., including one right here in Orlando. It was all everyone talked about since I’d been back.
Plus, I hadn’t heard from him at all. We’d exchanged email addresses the morning I left, but I didn’t expect him to write. He’d been distant and preoccupied on the ride to the airport. After getting my suitcase out of the car, he’d stood with me on the sidewalk, memorizing my face as though he’d never see me again.
“Go to the terminal,” he’d finally said.
“Walk with me?”
A pained expression blanketed his features. I hooked my fingers through his belt and pulled him closer. His muscles strained when we made contact.
“Lia. You have to go.”
I’d wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his chest. He’d smelled so good. The clean scent of body wash had filled my lungs. The rapid beating of his heart hypnotized me. I didn’t know how long we’d stayed like that, mostly because I’d had a bad feeling that if I let him go, he’d run. He’d get in the car, drive off and I’d be nothing but a distant memory.
He’d tilted my chin up, a tiny smile curving his mouth. Seeing it calmed me down, but not much.
“Have a safe flight, love.”
That had been it. He’d released me from his embrace and got in the car.
Two piercing, high-pitched tones shook me free of my thoughts. It was an alert from the Associated Press. I clicked on it, expecting to see something about the debt crisis or new unemployment rates. It was from the international wires and it was all about Samuel Holden’s retirement party. My curiosity shot off the scales. I opened an internet browser and searched for any stories on the event.
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