In Her Secret Fantasy

by Marie Treanor

  She came hard and furiously, smothering her cries in his mouth as he hammered her, holding her there for so long she thought she’d die—or at least faint—and then at last, he let go. His mouth opened wide, his breathless groan rising to a shout which she swallowed with triumphant delight. She’d made him come; she’d given him this pleasure.

  He released her mouth, dropping his head to the carpet, his ragged breath loud in her ear. “Oh Chrissy,” he muttered. “What you do to me.”

  “You asked for it,” she said smugly, turning her head in time to see the exhausted smile split his face.

  “Oh, I did,” he agreed, kissing her ear. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have such a beautiful body.”

  “I refer you back to my mother’s warning,” she said dryly.

  He lifted his head, holding her face between his hands. “I don’t just say these things for sex, you know. You are beautiful. And God knows you’re in danger of fascinating me beyond the recommended dose.”

  “What’s that?” she asked without thinking, but she already knew. Beyond what was easy to leave behind. Perhaps he saw the knowledge in her eyes, for he kissed her again.

  “Live for the day,” he said against her lips.

  “And spit in the face of danger.”

  “That’s the one.”

  He eased himself up, taking hold of his cock as he slid out of her, and removed the condom. She lay decadently among the cushions, watching him walk across to her bathroom and deposit the condom. As he came back, his gait seemed to change to something more predatory, as did the warmth in his eyes.

  She smiled and held up her arms for him. He bent but instead of curling back up with her, he put his arms around her and lifted her. She squeaked in surprise as she was swung up against his body and he rose, walking with her to the bed.

  “Again?” she said breathlessly as he laid her on the pillows.

  “Oh yes.”

  “Your window appears to be large,” she joked.

  “Not just my window.”

  She reached between them, closing her hand around his semihard cock. “You mean this?”

  “No, I mean the right hand pocket of my jeans.”

  Laughter surged, and she threw her arms around him in total abandonment.

  “Sundays in bed,” Aidan murmured several hours later as he stroked her hair. “Can’t beat them.”

  They lay close together, sated at least for now, her head on his sweat-dampened chest. Idly, Chrissy wondered how often they’d made love. Three times, if you only counted full, penetrative sex with a happy outcome for each. But she’d scored a couple of extra orgasms from intimate play and caresses, so it seemed like more, and she had to agree heartily with Aidan’s observation.

  “Although,” she added in the interests of honesty, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in bed this long with anyone and not been asleep for some of the time. On a Sunday or any other day.”

  His hand stilled on her hair in apparent surprise. “Really? Well, I’m very happy to help you change that.”

  She spread her folded hands on his chest and propped her chin on them to see his face. “Then this is quite a normal Sunday for you?” she joked. “Layabout.”

  But something not quite funny twisted inside her, reminding her of the huge differences between their experiences.

  His arm slid over her back and tightened. “Far from normal. I’ve never been in your bed before. And making love to you is not merely normal.”

  “Should I be flattered?”

  A smile flickered across his face. “I don’t know. It depends what you think of me.”

  “I don’t know what to think of you. I think you get women in your bed very easily.”

  “Yes? How easy are you?”

  “Celibate until I met you.”

  “And before you were attacked?”

  It was funny, but in his arms, focusing entirely on him, she didn’t even cringe at his words. The memory was there in all its awfulness, but well behind this, the present. It was almost as if he’d said before you went on holiday. Or at least before you were burgled.

  She considered. “I had boyfriends. Relationships. They didn’t last very long. I always seemed to be looking for something else.”

  “What?”

  You.

  The knowledge flashed into her brain, seemed to electrify her whole body. By some superhuman effort of self-preservation, she managed not to blurt it out.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “A spark. A depth. Something beyond attraction that isn’t simple friendship. A couple of my exes make much better friends.” She moved one hand, caressing his chest before touching his lips with one fingertip. She loved his lips and what he could do with them to so many parts of her. “What about your relationships?”

  His lips twisted under her finger. It wasn’t quite a smile. “What about them, indeed. There were a couple of women I cared for deeply over the years. But I couldn’t be with them when I was undercover. Even if I was in the right city, I was a different man. And when I went back to them, they’d moved on. Probably, so had I.”

  “Is that why you came home?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “This was years ago.” His eyes came back into focus. “If you want the truth, Chrissy, I last spent a Sunday in bed with a terrorist’s wife. I’m not actually a very nice man.”

  Her throat tightened. “Did you love her?”

  He sighed. “I cared for her. I felt sorry for her. But we were using each other. I needed information, and she wanted a way out. She thought I might be it.”

  “Were you?”

  “Yes, though not quite as she imagined. Chrissy, I don’t want to talk about this stuff, not with you.”

  “Why not?”

  His hand swept up her back to tangle in the hair at the back of her head, gently tugging. “Because you’re not part of it. I like that you’re not part of it. Now kiss me, flatter me.” He seized her mouth in a quick, hard kiss, then rolled her under him. “Tell me I’m the best lover you ever had.”

  “You’re the best lover I ever had,” she said obediently. You are. God help me, you are.

  He smiled. “I wish you meant it,” he said and kissed her again. She wanted to weep for some hint of wistful sincerity in his voice gave her a hope that wasn’t really there. He would always leave in the end, in search of excitement. Aidan, she suspected, was an adrenaline junky.

  He left off kissing her, glanced at the window and then gazed down at her consideringly. “The sun’s about to set. I should go, very soon. The question is, how to fill the last few minutes? Sex or shower?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just home. Tea with my folks.”

  “Then you’d better shower,” she said dryly. “You’ll stink of sweat and sex and me.”

  “I like stinking of sweat and sex and you.”

  “Trust me, your parents won’t like it. Neither will Louise.”

  He sighed. “Come with me, then.”

  “To wash your back?”

  “And eat with my parents. Louise told me off for not bringing you for tea yesterday.”

  She searched his eyes, not very sure what she was looking for. “Okay,” she said.

  He seemed to hesitate, then his breath caught, and with a quick smile, he slid off her and out of bed, drawing her with him by the hand. “Apart from my back, I’ve got other bits you could wash.”

  “You’re on your own. Your jeans pocket is empty.”

  “Damn.”

  It wasn’t a large shower for two people, which made the experience both funny and intimate. By the time they dressed, she was almost stunned to acknowledge a sense of familiarity and comfort with this gorgeous, amazing man.

  They were laughing at something as she finally opened the bedroom door.

  Len stood at the top of the stairs, keys in his hand, gazing right at her.

  Her heart gave one sickening lurch. “Hi,” she said brightly.

  “Hi,” Len sai
d. His gaze flickered over Aidan, who shut the bedroom door and took Chrissy’s hand. He nodded amiably to the other man and walked to the stairs. Len stood back, then turned and went into his room.

  Aidan began to talk again, continuing the banter of their departure. She had to force herself to join in, and received the reward of Aidan’s silent caress as he slipped his fingers between hers and squeezed.

  “Well done,” he breathed as they left by the front door. Only when they were well away from the house did he add, “Just treat him as you always have, behave as you do with the others. Don’t watch him or follow him. Leave him to me.”

  She frowned at him. “I thought I was supposed to give you orders?”

  “That was yesterday.”

  She bumped her head against his shoulder in mock annoyance. In truth, she couldn’t be angry with him right now. In the dark, she’d never appreciated the beauty of her surroundings as much as she did walking away from Ardknocken House with Aidan. Beyond the picturesque village below, the sea rolled and glistened. She could hear it, timeless and soothing. On either side, the snow-tipped hills rose steep and stark, like ancient guardians.

  As they came to the gate, she turned to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. His response was instant, as sensual and as enthusiastic as ever.

  When the kiss broke naturally, she took his hand again and continued their walk onto the road and down the hill.

  “What was that for?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Today. Yesterday. I just felt like it.”

  He stroked the skin between her forefinger and thumb and kept walking. Although he didn’t say anything more, she thought he was pleased.

  Chapter Thirteen Eating with Aidan, Louise, and their parents turned out to be surprisingly fun. When she could hear, Mrs. Grieve was unexpectedly witty, and Aidan and Louise kept up an insulting sibling banter that made Chrissy laugh. Mr. Grieve, who clearly hadn’t much clue what was going on or why, smiled several times as if pleased by the general good humour.

  When the meal was finished, Aidan stood up first. “I’ll make coffee, but then I’ve got to go. I’ll give you a lift up the road first, Chrissy, if you like.”

  Louise frowned at him in annoyance, as if she imagined he was being rude to Chrissy—who was uneasy for quite a different reason. She suspected he was going about catching Len, and she’d never managed to get out of him what Plan B was. He’d distracted her with sex. Good sex. Amazing sex.

  Stop it, moron.

  “No, you’re fine,” she replied, while she could still remember the question. “I’ll walk up later.”

  When he’d left—with a quirk of his lips aimed specially at her that meant, somehow, as much as a kiss—Chrissy helped Louise clear the table and ran water into the sink for the dishes.

  “My brother’s a bit of an arse,” Louise said apologetically.

  “Got stuff to do,” Chrissy excused him without rancour.

  “He’s probably out in the damned boat again. He used to do that all the time. Never said, just buggered off—for days sometimes. The world’s never been big enough for Aidan. He always wanted more.”

  “Don’t we all?” Chrissy put a dripping cup in the rack. “I think your world’s shrunk a bit, though.”

  Louise shrugged. “What can you do?”

  “Struggle on. It’s a big struggle, Louise.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said defensively. “There are good days as well as bad. Today was good.”

  “Aidan told me you were against his nursing home idea.”

  “I am. Maybe if there was a place in the village it would be different, but they’ve lived in Ardknocken all their lives. They’ve lived in this house all their married lives. My dad grew up in it.”

  Chrissy nodded, loading more onto the draining rack. “You’re probably right. Alzheimer’s patients do better in familiar environments.”

  “Yes? Then God knows how he’d get on somewhere else, because he’s forgotten his way around here.”

  “I know. I’ve seen it happen with others. You can’t bring him back, but there are ways to make it easier on all of you.”

  “Like what?” Louise asked wryly.

  “Home helps. Nursing care in the community. I can give you a couple of numbers. Talk to them, see what they can do. It’ll take the heat off you.”

  Louise opened her mouth as if to object, then closed it again. “Okay. Maybe I will. What made you think of that now? Did Aidan put you up to this?”

  Chrissy scrubbed a stubborn crust of food on a plate. “He made me see how hard it is for you. I wish I’d thought before.” She dropped the plate into the rack and glanced at her. “He’s worried about you, Louise. About all of you. And I think he feels a bit guilty for not being here, for not even knowing how bad it’s got.”

  Louise sighed, reaching for the dripping plate. “I know.”

  “Even if he stayed, you’d need professional help. You both need lives of your own. Your dad, when he really was your dad, would have insisted on that.”

  Louise opened a cupboard and put away the crockery pile she’d made on the worktop, then reached blindly for the next plate. “Aye, well. There’s wishes and there’s reality.”

  “Aidan was going to pay for the nursing home, wasn’t he?”

  Louise snorted. “Yes but I won’t stick my mum and dad in a home just to make Aidan feel better.”

  “Of course not,” Chrissy said mildly. “But give him his due. It wasn’t himself, but you and your parents he was thinking about. It may the wrong solution, but at least he was trying to find one.”

  Louise eyed her, a half smile curving her lips. “You don’t need to stick up for him to me. I know him. Doesn’t mean I can’t rant occasionally.”

  “Rant away,” Chrissy invited.

  Louise’s smile broadened. “You’re good for him, you know. He’s…lightened since he met you.”

  “It’s home that’s good for him,” Chrissy said quietly. “That’s why he came. Ardknocken may never be big enough, but he misses it. He misses his family.”

  Louise let her hand fall to her side. The end of the dish towel trailed on the floor. “He came home to heal,” she said, just a little unsteadily. “And here we are disintegrating.”

  “Oh, you’re not, Louise. You’re holding it all together.” Since her hands were dripping in steaming suds, she kept them to herself, simply nudged Louise in solidarity. “Listen, what I started to say was, if Aidan has the kind of money for a nursing home—”

  “How come he’s got that kind of money anyway? Police pay isn’t that great.”

  “I suspect he does a lot of overtime,” Chrissy said diplomatically. With danger money thrown in. “Whatever, he’ll use it to help if he can. So take it. Get your business off the ground again. If a lot of guests won’t upset your parents?”

  Louise shook her head. “The house is big enough to keep our quarters separate, and we can use the flat more. Once Aidan’s gone.”

  Ignoring her inevitable pang at that, Chrissy said, “Then do it. I’m going to send out the first ads for the fishing trips this week. Hire some staff.” She took a deep breath. “You know the people here. Hire someone with flexible hours, someone you trust to help with everything, from cleaning and cooking to caring. Someone your mum and dad will be happy to have around the house. Then, you can even have some time off. Come to the pub. Go shopping in Fort William. Hell, go and have a dirty weekend in Glasgow with Dave.”

  Dave was the cameraman who’d come up with the television crew to do the hauntings story at Ardknocken House.

  Louise wrinkled her nose. “Dave dumped me for a producer with big glasses.”

  Oops. “Ah. Sorry. I didn’t know.” Chrissy put the last pan on the draining rack and emptied the water from the basin. “Do you mind much?”

  Louise shrugged and sighed. “I suppose I liked him coming up to see me. I looked forward to it. But he was awkward around Mum and Dad. Made me uncomfortable.
It’s easier without him, to be honest. Bad for my ego, mind.”

  “They’re all bad for the ego,” Chrissy said, from habit. Only once she’d said the words, it struck her that Aidan had been rather good for hers. When he left, she’d try to keep it that way. She liked feeling like this.

  Rab was still chewing the last of his dinner as he charged through the kitchen and out the back door of Ardknocken House, intent on creativity in his workshop, which was now set up in one of the outhouses where he also slept. He almost ran into Len, who was coming in the opposite direction.

  “Rab,” Len said in apparent surprise. “How’re you doing?”

  “All right.” Rab swallowed the last of the mouthful. “Going to do some work. You okay?”

  “Sure. Quiet weekend. And the books here are a piece of piss. Wee Chrissy’s got me looking into the prices of wood and stuff.”

  “Good on her.”

  “Aye, well watch yourself there, son. You’ll never guess who she had in her room this afternoon.”

  Rab shifted uncomfortably. It was none of his business, but before he could explain that to Len, the older man said, “Big blond guy that used to be in the police, according to rumour. If I was you, I’d take a step or two back.”

  From what? Before Rab could say the words, Len brushed past him and through the kitchen. Rab shrugged and went on his way. What the hell was that all about?

  The wind favoured Aidan. He was able to cut the engine some distance from the island and sail with decent speed up to the broken down jetty. When he’d tied up the boat, he couldn’t help glancing along the beach at the seals who lay there, resting. In the dark, he could almost believe she was one of them. The woman who’d made his teenage dreams come true and inspired him with a good deal of sexual imagination. Had she really come back for more? Maybe he should look for her sometime and find out, get Chrissy out of his system.

  The idea made him laugh at himself. Even if he wasn’t on a mission, even if the beautiful selkie appeared naked in front of him right now, he didn’t want her, even for auld lang syne. And he didn’t want Chrissy out of his system. He liked her there. Even when she churned everything upside down.

  Today had been a dangerous luxury he’d been unable to deny himself. Or her. He didn’t want her to think the encounter on the boat was a one-off grab for sex just since she was there and needy. She was worth so much more than that, and she needed to know it. Even if being valued by him was hardly anything to write home about.