“I don’t remember it being like this.” She sighed as he kissed her neck, then down her chest. He took her already hard nipple in his mouth and sucked.
“I know,” he said, before reaching for her other breast. “I want to take it slow, but—”
“No.” She cupped his face and forced him to look at her. “Don’t hold back anything.”
Their gazes locked. The fire in his eyes heated her blood and made her feminine place dampen with need. She released him and moved her hands to his rear. Once there, she squeezed the tight, round flesh. He arched against her. His arousal bumped her belly, the tender sacs between his legs brushed against her center. Pleasure shot through her.
She parted her thighs, tilting her hips toward him. He repeated the action. The friction teased at her, not enough to take her closer to release, yet more than enough to make her willing to do anything he asked.
When he slipped away, she whimpered in protest.
“Don’t worry,” he promised. “I know something better to do.”
With that, he knelt between her knees. He covered her breasts with his hands, then bent low and kissed her belly button. His fingers circled her nipples, brushing them gently, connecting those sensitive points with the one his mouth approached.
She felt warm breath at the top of her thigh. She knew what he was about to do. She’d read about it, heard friends talk about it, but no one had ever touched her there…not that way.
An intimate kiss. Elissa had once whispered it could be the most perfect pleasure. Kayla couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful than what they’d done before, yet she was willing to be proved wrong.
He brought her hands to her center and urged her to part for him. With the protective folds pulled back, she was exposed to him. Her eyes shut tight, and she shuddered in embarrassment. Why would he want to look at her there?
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, stroking a single finger along her sensitive flesh. He didn’t touch that tiny point of pleasure, instead discovering the rest of her.
As he circled the entrance, she pushed toward him, remembering the pleasure he’d brought her there. He dipped inside, deeper, hinting at what they would do later.
Then, when she’d nearly forgotten about being exposed and how he was going to touch her, he placed his tongue against her.
The moist, gentle contact impacted against her nerve endings. Small explosions went off in different parts of her body. There was no reason for breath or thought, no reason to exist, except for the sole purpose of experiencing the sensations he created.
He licked her slowly, as if exploring a perfect treasure. Her entire being concentrated on that one place and the power he wielded.
When he stroked faster, her body trembled. Involuntary quivers of muscles, an uncontrolled gasp. Her head moved from side to side. She might have said something. Maybe his name, maybe a plea that he not stop. She wasn’t sure of anything except the promise of a release so incredible that the anticipation alone was enough to speed her closer.
With one hand, he continued to move inside her. Long fingers pressed up, as if caressing her center of pleasure from both sides. With his other hand, he reached up and cupped her breast. He squeezed her taut nipple, matching the rhythm of his tongue.
She pressed her heels into the mattress, parting her legs wider, straining toward him. She didn’t know how long he’d touched her there. Seconds…maybe days. She spiraled higher and higher.
“No!” she gasped. “Not yet. It feels too good.”
But she had no control. Even as she absorbed intense pleasure, even as she became one with the heat and the flames, her body betrayed her. Muscles tensed, though she tried to relax them. She fought against the climax. She wanted to go on like this forever.
As if he had read her mind, Patrick stopped. Her body froze. Release was so close, she could feel the first whisper of ecstasy.
Before she could cry out in protest, he began again. Lighter, yet faster, touching everywhere he had before, his tongue creating magic. Completion hovered stubbornly out of reach, taunting her. She surged toward it. Closer. Closer. Closer still.
Then it was upon her. She and the pleasure were one. Every part of her vibrated with wondrous surrender.
As she relaxed, Patrick slipped next to her and pulled up the covers. He shifted so her head rested on his shoulder and her legs tangled with his. She rested one hand on his belly.
An aftershock rippled through her and she smiled. “How’d you do that?” she asked softly.
“I was inspired by my subject.”
“Hmm. That was the most amazing experience of my life.”
He stroked her hair. “For me, too:”
She closed her eyes. Almost of its own accord, her hand slipped lower, through the curls, until she felt the length of him. He was hard and ready, and he jumped against her fingers when she touched him.
Now it was his turn to suck in his breath.
“All this for me?” she teased.
“Everything’s for you.”
He sounded so intense, she opened her eyes. Passion pulled his mouth straight and tightened the line of his jaw. Lethargy vanished in an instant. She wanted him again.
“Where is it?” she asked, speaking of the protection.
“I happen to have one ready.”
She took the condom from him and pushed away the sheet. When he was exposed to her gaze, she caught her breath. The need and strength inherent in his maleness made her feel powerful. He was aroused because they were together. Because of what he’d done to her and what she was about to do to him.
She knelt between his thighs and took him in her hand. After stroking up and down several times, she bent low and licked the sensitive tip.
Her free hand rested on his thigh. She felt his muscles tense with her action. He groaned low in his throat. She licked again, then drew him into her mouth. She suckled him, moving her fingers at a matching rhythm, feeling the passion grow.
“Look at me,” he said.
She glanced up and saw that he’d raised himself into a half-sitting position. Her hair tumbled onto his thigh and belly, her mouth embraced his maleness. It was a moment of connection so strong, she knew that whatever happened between them, they would both remember what had once been. It was, she told herself, enough.
He touched her wrist and indicated she should stop. She opened the protection, then slid it over him. Before he could shift her onto her back, she cleared her throat.
“Would you mind if I tried being, urn, on top?”
He grinned, then stretched out on the bed. “Be my guest.”
She straddled his hips. As she reached down to guide him inside, he did the same. Their fingers brushed. Again they looked at each other. He glanced down, and she followed his gaze. The tip of him pressed into her, their hands overlapped on his arousal. It was all there, the intimate joining of two people. She hadn’t known it could be this wonderful.
She sank down on him, feeling him fill all of her. Recently satisfied need flared to life. He grasped her hips and set the pace for their joining. She tossed her head back, letting her hair flutter against her back. She liked being on top, being in control. Her thighs tightened around his hips, drawing him in deeper until he touched her soul.
When his hands clasped hers, she leaned forward, letting him lower her until she rested against his chest. He released her, then reached between them, opening her so that the most sensitive part of her rubbed him with each thrust.
Instant pleasure caught her off guard. She gasped his name, then kissed him.
As their tongues stroked together, she felt him collect himself for his release. Her own body began tensing, heading toward the promise.
“I can’t hold back,” he growled, obviously struggling for control.
“Don’t. Just feel it,” she urged, moving faster.
“Not yet.” He pushed her upright, then groaned. “That’s worse.”
She saw him staring at her bre
asts. They bounced in time with their joining. She cupped them to hold them still.
“Better?” she asked.
“Not exactly.”
Then his eyes closed. He surged toward her. As she prepared herself to absorb his pleasure, he reached between them and touched a fingertip to her core. Without warning, she soared into her climax, barely able to register that he followed her. She leaned forward and clutched at his shoulders, rocking and thrusting to drain everything from them both.
Later, when they were back under the sheets, nestled together, Kayla sighed. Their lovemaking had been more than she’d imagined it would be. Better than last time. Would it continue to get better as they learned about each other’s secret desires? A voice inside whispered that it would.
A sense of rightness filled her. This was where she belonged. In Patrick’s bed, in his arms. In his life.
He’d positioned them so they lay like spoons, his front nestled against her back.
“Kayla?” he murmured, sounding nearly asleep.
“Yes?”
“Stay with me.”
Stay. It was what she’d always wanted. Why hadn’t she seen that before?
“Yes, Patrick. I’ll be right here.” She placed her hand on top of his and squeezed.
He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Thanks. After making love with you, I don’t want to sleep alone. There’ll be plenty of time for that when you’re gone.”
His regular breathing told her he’d fallen asleep. She pressed her lips tightly together and let her tears fall silently onto the pillow.
She’d been prepared to stay for a lifetime, but he only cared about a night. When she first came over, she’d told herself any humiliation or rejection wouldn’t be that awful. After all, in less than twenty-four hours she was leaving for Paris.
The pain in her chest deepened. She knew now what it meant, why she’d been so confused lately, what was wrong with her life.
Somewhere between the laughter and teasing, over sodas or sandwiches, after patients or while making love, she’d fallen in love with him.
There was no need to go searching for her handsome prince. He’d been living next door the whole time.
As the tears continued to flow, she wrestled with the fact that he hadn’t once indicated he’d had a change of feelings. In his mind, they were just good friends.
The hurt in her chest deepened. She knew it was a problem to be on an airplane when you had a cold or certain illnesses, but how dangerous was it to fly with a broken heart?
***
Patrick sat in bed and watched Kayla sleep. She stirred occasionally, pushing the sheets as she turned, exposing her naked body to view. Each time she settled, he pulled the covers back into place. He’d long since memorized every part of her.
Physical contentment fought with emotional anguish. He loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone or anything in his life. He hadn’t known such depth of emotion was possible. In the past couple of months, she’d become a part of his being, as if her presence had been grafted onto his soul. When she left him, he would mourn her absence with the same passion that he would mourn the death of hope. Like his father before him, he would move silently through his world, enduring, emotionally limping, as though a part of him had been ripped away.
He rose from the bed and pulled on his shorts, then made his way to the living room. Instead of turning on a light, he pulled open the drapes. It was nearly dawn. The start of a new day… the day Kayla would leave.
In a twisted sort of way, he should be grateful. He’d just endured the worst day of his life, and he’d survived. Kayla’s departure allowed him to forget what else had happened. Compared to the devastation of losing her, the loss of funding for his research facility would barely warrant a footnote in the story of his life.
The sun rose, slipping above the horizon in slow motion, as if in no hurry to start the day. A thunk on his porch informed him the paper had been delivered. Patrick resisted moving for a couple of minutes, then pushed to his feet and went to retrieve it. There was no way he wanted Kayla reading the front page. That would ruin everything.
He opened the front door and saw someone crossing toward him. In the half-light, he might have mistaken her for Kayla. The same body shape, the same hair, the same temper blazing in the same green eyes.
Elissa tugged her robe tighter around herself and glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, then thrust her copy of the newspaper at him. “Have you read this?”
He reached behind him and closed the front door. He didn’t want Kayla to wake up and hear their voices. Then she would know what had happened. He would do anything to avoid that.
“Have a seat,” he said, settling on the porch’s single step.
Elissa continued to glare at him.
“I’ll explain everything.”
“You’d better.” She sank next to him, every fiber of her being vibrating with anger. ‘ ‘She spent the night with you, didn’t she?”
He nodded.
Her gaze narrowed. “And you didn’t tell her a thing.”
It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t bother answering.
He folded both newspapers together and stared at the still-dark western sky. ‘ ‘I received a phone call yesterday, from the foundation I’ve been dealing with. A highly placed officer has embezzled millions. He’s already left the country, and they’re not sure they can recover their money.”
“I read that much in the paper. It’s why you were late to the party yesterday, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah.” He’d been on the phone, trying to figure out how the news affected him. The answer had been succinct.
“What does the embezzlement mean to you?”
He continued to stare at the horizon, but instead of tree-tops and sky, he saw the research building as it should have been. He saw the equipment he’d ordered, the scientists working. What could have been a chance to make a difference had turned to dust.
“They’re real sorry, but there’s no money to give me.”
She caught her breath. “Oh, Patrick, I’m sorry.”
She placed her hand on his arm. A comforting touch, so like her sister’s that it should have eased his pain. It didn’t. Elissa was a wonderful person, but she was a poor substitute for the real thing.
“They’re going to try and get me alternative funding. It’ll take a while, and there’s no guarantee it will come through. They might recover some of what was stolen. If it’s enough, they’ll help me out.” He shrugged. “It’s been a gamble from the beginning. I knew there were a thousand things that could go wrong.”
“But you never expected to lose the money once you had it.”
“No, I never expected that.”
Life had broadsided him in a couple of different ways. First with Kayla, and now with this. At least he still had the clinic. He would bury himself in work and try to forget.
“Why didn’t you tell her?”
“That’s easy. Her plane leaves tonight, and I want her on it. If she knew about this, she would want to fix it. That’s what Kayla does, she heals the world. I’m not going to stand in the way of what she wants, and I’m not going to be one of her damn strays. So I’m not going to say anything, and neither are you.”
For the first time since sitting down, he looked at Elissa, pinning her with his gaze. “I want your word on that,” he said.
“Why? What’s so wrong with her wanting to fix it? She cares about you.”
Cares. It was a start, he supposed. Better than hating him, or having no feelings at all. But he’d wanted everything. Both with the research facility and with her. Better to walk away than to get it half-right.
“I don’t want her pity and I don’t want her money. You know that’s what she’d offer me.”
Elissa nodded. “She’d write you a check without blinking.” She drew in a deep breath. “Do you know what you’re giving up?”
He knew she was talking about more than
the research facility. “I’m intimately familiar with the pain I’m going to face.” He’d watched his father live through it for twenty years. Walcott men were cursed that way. He knew because history was about to repeat itself.
He turned his attention back to the horizon. “Your word, Elissa.”
“All right. I won’t say anything to her before she gets on the plane.”
“And you won’t call and tell her the truth.”
“Agreed. But if she calls me and already knows something, I’m going to fill in the details.”
“Fine.”
He wasn’t worried about that. Once Kayla was in Paris, there was no way she was going to find out anything. She would be too busy living her dream.
Happily ever after. That was all he’d ever wanted for her.
Chapter Sixteen
Kayla sat in front of the French cafe. Her small round table and single chair were near the sidewalk, allowing her a perfect view of the quaint street and passersby. Despite the fact that it was late July, the temperature was pleasant, rather than hot, the sky was clear, and the sun shone down brightly.
She fingered the brochure she’d picked up that morning on her second visit to the Louvre. Earlier that week, she’d viewed the old masters; today she’d concentrated on the sculptures. The artwork amazed her. Some of the statues were so perfect, they looked as if they’d come from a mold, instead of being hand-carved.
She sipped her coffee, then reached for the postcards she’d bought yesterday. After staring at them for a second, she let them fall back on the table. Who would have thought that after ten days in Paris, she would have nothing to say to her friends?
A family walked by the café. Three children, all chatting happily, their parents smiling at each other. Their French was too quick for her to decipher, but she didn’t need to understand the conversation to know they were happy and excited about their day together. Seeing them made Kayla feel her solitary existence even more.
”Bonjour, mademoiselle.”
Kayla glanced up and saw a flower vendor standing in front of her. He held up a small bouquet and raised his eyebrows questioningly.
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