by Kris Pearson
“If you survive the excitement of fresh truffles we could drive a short way down to the river tomorrow instead of going to the beach,” he teased. “There are some good swimming holes, and Nic could paddle around in the shallows?”
Like a normal family holiday, Fiona thought, feeling her heart contract with longing. As though we’re a married couple with our longed-for child.
How I wish.
They discussed beach versus river until the next course arrived.
“Vanilla Bean and Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Berry Compote under a Sugar Cage.”
Her eyes grew wide at the artistic arrangement of the dessert. “Oh Christian,” she sighed. “How can I wreck such a beautiful thing?”
“Have some of mine then,” he said, spooning up Panna Cotta and berries from his own portion, leaning over, and nudging it against her lips. In a split second the air came alive with hot forbidden yearning again.
Fiona opened her mouth, eyes drawn to his. The amused affection was gone; now his intense gaze was dark with desire. His pupils blazed wide and black. She fell into their dangerous depths, then found she couldn’t draw back as his hand settled against her nape, pulled her closer and held her still as he teased her with the spoon. The smooth cool silver slid along her lower lip and the luscious berry perfume wafted up, sweet and rich.
She parted her lips a little further on an indrawn breath and he gently pushed the spoon in, waited until she’d closed her lips around it, and slowly withdrew it. His eyes never left hers, and Fiona knew all too well that this tiny intrusion into her body was his hopeful prelude to an altogether more passionate invasion. How would she ever resist?
Later, after excellent coffee and hand-made chocolates, Christian carried a sleeping Nicky in his arms as they returned to the car.
“Will you drive Blondie? Save me waking her? Keys are on the left.”
Fiona slipped her hand into his jacket, and he chuckled. “Pants pocket. Are you feeling brave enough to invade my trousers?”
She shot him a glare.
“Bastard,” she said, although without venom. The dinner wines had relaxed her considerably. Her resolve was still strong, but if he was determined to tempt her like this...? She pushed his jacket aside to locate the pocket opening, and inserted her hand.
Permission to touch him, please Jan?
She stroked her fingers down the hard length of his hipbone, sliding deep into his hot slippery pocket, knowing she must be only a fraction of an inch from very dangerous ground.
Christian let loose a small soft growl, but with Nicky in his arms could do nothing to prevent her hand from exploring.
She located the key-ring and closed her fingers around the remote, drawing it far too slowly up past his groin, feeling her knuckles brushing where they shouldn’t.
“Just getting even for your champagne game,” she murmured sweetly, producing the bundle at last and sending him a faint cheeky smile. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she breathed out with relief as she turned to blip the car unlocked.
Unfamiliar with the luxurious vehicle she gave her total concentration to driving the short distance, and drew to a thankful halt a tense minute or two later.
“Garage remote’s behind the visor.”
Fiona fumbled for it in the dark and waited until the door rose. She coasted inside and signaled for it to close.
They were alone, and it was bedtime.
Her heartbeat once again increased to a rapid hammering. Separate bedrooms and the presence of a sleeping two-year-old would to do very little to douse the furious flames that had sprung up between them.
“Thank-you for a lovely dinner.”
She sighed at the desperately bright tone of her voice as she shot out of the car and hurried around to open the passenger door. Christian stepped out, cradling his still-sleeping daughter.
“We must do it again,” he replied gravely, a small humorous twitch at the corner of his mouth showing he’d registered her unease. “Tomorrow.”
“Um—yes—goodnight then,” she said, swallowing. She bolted into her room, yanking the door closed behind her.
God, this is juvenile! We shared the house in Wellington safely enough.
But that had been more than a month ago, when Jan’s death was hideously recent; when reminders of her were all around them.
And when Fiona had been too injured to think of much beyond her accident.
Now she was strong and supple again, Jan had retreated a little into the past, and there were none of her sister’s personal belongings in the cottage to reinforce the memories and strengthen her resolve.
Temptation gnawed at her like a hungry terrier worrying at a bone. Christian had made his feelings clear. He wanted her. He was gentleman enough not to force the issue, but his starving eyes and husky suggestions had found their mark. The tension between them now stretched tightrope-taut.
Fiona glared at her reflection and groaned. After all her efforts to play down her appearance her eyes were huge and bright, her cheeks flushed warmly, and her lips pouted full and inviting. She looked as seductive as any cunningly made-up model posing for a glossy magazine feature. So this had been Christian’s view of her across their table? No wonder he’d seen possibilities.
She sighed and stripped off her dress and panties, amazed to find her heart was beating so jaggedly she could see one nipple softly pulsing in the mirror. She watched the small shudder with fascination. Surely that had never happened before? She was acutely aroused, and her body was letting her know it in a dozen delicious ways.
She needed to wind down. It was late, and she felt both exhausted and exhilarated. Surely a long, relaxing shower would help? Then if she pulled on one of her oversize soft cotton T-shirts, she’d fall asleep in the inviting wide bed and put him right out of her mind until morning.
Above her, Christian paced. Nicky had drowsed in his arms without stirring, and he’d settled her into her cot with no further drama.
He cocked an ear. He could hear the shower running downstairs; so much for enjoying a nightcap with Fiona. He’d been looking forward to that, but she’d slammed her bedroom door on him as though he was poison. Just as things had seemed more relaxed, as possibilities floated around them in the warm air of the car, she’d frozen him out again.
He flinched as he pushed at his groin, trying to gain a few more degrees of comfort. Damn the woman...he needed a huge distraction instead of a huge erection!
He stripped off his shirt to let the soft night air cool his skin. What would tomorrow bring?
With resignation, he opened his ever-present lap-top and began to pull down emails; quietly tapping out replies to business messages from the other side of the world.
After what seemed like countless hours of restless tossing and turning, and determined muscle-relaxing exercises, Fiona groaned at the 2.33 on her bedside clock. She was so wide-awake. Plainly sleep wouldn’t be arriving any time soon. She sat up in the kingsize bed and took a few sips of water from her nearby tumbler. Yet again Christian crept back into her brain—so gorgeous but so far out of reach.
The room felt stifling hot. She pulled at the neckline of her T-shirt and flapped some cooler air inside it. Wiped a hand over her damp forehead. Then threw off the smooth percale sheet and ran her fingers backward through her hair to lift it off her scalp. Longing for fresh air, she rose from the bed, pushed the heavy glass slider aside and stepped out onto the terrace.
Night-insects cheeped and peeped. One of the small native owls repeated its ‘more-pork’ call over and over again from the trees closer to the Lodge.
She glided under a black velvet sky full of stars to the far edge of the terrace and leaned her elbows on the railing. The soft splashing of the ocean and occasional snuffling noises from restless sheep reached her across the quiet countryside. It was so still she even heard the distant rumble of a train rolling by several miles away, and the eerie wailing whistle as it approached a level crossing.
But she d
idn’t hear the soft pad of Christian’s bare feet until he was very close.
She gasped and stood taller at his sudden silent presence, then turned resolutely away to face the water again, hunching her shoulders against his intrusion.
“Couldn’t sleep, Blondie?”
She willed him to leave her alone, but knew if he did she’d probably reach out and pull him back again.
He gave a small, resigned laugh that stirred up all the emotions she’d been trying to suppress and stole the steel from her spine. “Me either. Now why could that be?”
He dropped a soft kiss on top of her tousled hair. Fiona trembled with hope and guilt—and the knowledge her resolve had finally packed its bags and left town.
His lips progressed down to her ear, nipping and nibbling, and then he set his hands on her hips as she stood, head bowed, unresisting. He stroked her through the soft fabric of her pale T-shirt.
“I saw you from the upstairs bathroom,” he continued huskily. “Thought I’d better come down and make sure you were okay.”
She was far from okay—but she couldn’t have pulled away to save her life. Christian was so close, so male, so nearly naked she had no resistance left.
Her first quick backward glance had slid over his long moonlight-washed torso. A dark bath-towel bound his narrow hips. One tug from her eager fingers was all it would take to peel it away. Her nails bit deep into her palms.
“It’s too hot to sleep,” she said in a strangled voice.
His hands continued to stroke softly, hypnotically, over her hips, tracing the curves that the fabric concealed. Her legs went weak as water.
“Because of you,” he said hoarsely, “I’ve just had my first cold shower in years. It didn’t work.”
He ran his slick tongue down toward her shoulder, and slid his fingers to cup her bottom, moving slowly lower until he hit bare skin.
“Christian...” she moaned, jerking at his touch.
“Sssshhhhh,” he soothed, fingers exploring her so gently she willed herself to relax and enjoy the deliciously sexy sensations threading their way up into the deepest recesses of her body.
Christian drew the T-shirt a little higher and then slipped his fingers underneath the fabric.
Fiona felt air whispering across the base of her spine. He bent and kissed her there—chastely at first, and then with hot, wet, open-mouthed possession.
The sensation nearly knocked her off her feet. She gasped, grabbed for the terrace railing, and leaned dizzily against it, grateful for the support it gave.
His hands ran down to her thighs and up over her bottom again. Then he parted her thighs and reached through to stroke softly over her slick folds. She clenched her teeth so she’d stay silent—the very quietness of his lovemaking was magic. His stealthy advance over her body summoned ripples of desire... washes of longing. She breathed in the scent of his recently showered skin, wanting to lick him, and bite him, and make him feel as good as she did.
“Feeling as hot and bothered as I am?” he whispered.
Hot, bothered, wet, desperate, desirous, flickering with sensation from my waist to my knees...craving you almost to the point of pain.
All of the above.
Her T-shirt continued its slow climb northward until her breasts were out in the sultry air. He gathered them into his palms, weighing, stroking...rubbing and pinching her tightly peaked nipples.
“Too sexy,” he murmured, kissing her between her shoulder blades. “They’re so soft and heavy when you’re bent over like this.” He continued to massage and pleasure her breasts until she could feel the aroused flesh of her groin expanding, reshaping, becoming exquisitely sensitive and slick to welcome him in.
Past resisting, she turned her face sideways and buried it against his upper arm, biting at him with a huge hungry gulp and a moan of frustration.
His hips brushed against hers. The plush texture of the towel whispered over her skin. Then he leaned into her harder, and the long ridge of his sex pressed against her, laid claim to her, promised untold pleasure.
“Take him until Tuesday,” a little devil suggested.
Fiona tried to banish that from her super-heated brain, but it was a battle she was never going to win.
“Turn around.”
Christian pulled her to face him. Even in the darkness she could see his eyes were huge, his generous mouth unsmiling. He looked like a man at the very edge of his restraint. Did she look this desperate in return?
He tugged the T-shirt over her head and tossed it onto one of the outdoor chairs, then with fierce deliberation pulled her naked body against him and lowered his lips to hers. The kiss started softly, seductively...and grew in depth and savagery until they were glued together, breathless, panting, clawing at each other’s skin. Fiona had never felt so possessed—or so mad to possess in return.
She protested her loss as Christian ripped her hands away from him and forced them backwards to grip the railing.
“Stay like that—just like that.” His chest rose and fell with every deep straining breath. He reached out to cradle her breasts in his hands.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, bending to kiss and suckle until she whimpered with pleasure.
“No more waiting.” He dropped to his knees and brushed his mouth down her belly. “Open for me,” he murmured against her. His hands settled on her thighs and nudged them apart until she gave in with a moan of submission.
His soft laugh of triumph whispered over her skin as he claimed her in an outrageously greedy juicy kiss, and his tongue started to probe and slide and circle and flick.
She clung as though the railing was the last support on earth. And slowly the ecstasy gathered and built, rolling like thunder, stabbing dark and intense, until the exquisite contractions of her shattering climax sent her arching backwards, gasping his name over and over. One hand left the railing and fisted in his hair to pull him up into her arms.
She knew, even in her barely conscious state, there was no way to pretend this was casual.
This was deep.
She drowned in him, yearned to be inside his skin, inside his life.
Christian followed her impatient hand up and made to wrap his arms around her.
“No. Please.” She pulled his towel undone and held it wide. The light of the full moon light washed down into the small space between them, glistening on the moist tip of his long up-rearing cock.
Slowly, dragging in a deep breath of anticipation, she rose on tiptoe and drew him into position by tugging the ends of the towel. He nudged against her, teasing, sliding inside just a fraction, retreating again.
Fiona growled as he drew back.
Then Christian pushed his hard silky length all the way home with one long, slow, deep, potent thrust—murmuring her name, wrapping his arms around her, nuzzling blindly for her mouth again. Fiona felt the peace wash over her as they stood locked together, blissful. She was still gently pulsing deep inside.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Need a condom,” he groaned moments later, not daring to move. Her heat and wetness had him close to meltdown. “I’ve got some upstairs. From the machine in the Gents’ washroom at the Lodge.”
“I’ve got some downstairs. There’s a machine in the Ladies’ as well.”
He let out a sharp puff of laughter.
“And a bed would be nice,” she added, nipping his neck, sniffing at his skin as though he was edible.
“Full of surprises, aren’t you, Blondie?”
“I just thought...if I couldn’t resist you any longer...” She licked his shoulder between every few words “...that I should be prepared...in case. Downstairs is closer,” she encouraged. “Come to bed, Christian.”
Slowly, all of her fantasies were made real. Christian gave and took in equal measure, expecting her to do the same. He was gentle and demanding by turns, playful and generous, sensual to a degree she’d never imagined possible.
After a night of knife-edged passion, and sensations th
at made her thrash and moan and stifle her screams again and again, she found him resting on one elbow, looking down at her as she drowsed and finally slid awake to a golden morning.
He kissed the scar near her hairline, and drew back far enough to focus on her face. His long forefinger stroked tenderly over her eyebrow.
“Whatever the future throws at us, Blondie, any of it will be worth last night.”
Fiona nodded, drowning in the intensity of his gaze.
“But we’re in another world here,” she eventually protested. “This is not the real world, where people live by strict conventions and society’s rules. It won’t be so nice out there.” She bit her lip. “No-one will think this is okay. You know that—you and me together, and Jan so recently dead. No-one at all, Christian.”
He shrugged. “Then we’ll make the most of what we’ve been given until we have to leave.” Rising from the tumbled bed, he strolled to the wide-open terrace doors. “Must have had our minds on other things last night,” he said as he pulled the doors closed, drew the curtains across, and turned to her.
In the dim light, his big lean body looked breathtaking. Fiona’s eyes roamed down his taut torso to the urgent invitation of his dusky erection.
“Still night-time?” she inquired, stretching like a contented cat as he prowled toward her.
Christian glanced at his watch, abandoned on the chest beside the bed.
“Nicky will probably give us another half hour or so.” His eyes shone with sexy intent.
“Let’s hope she does.” Her body responded with deep warm wanting as she drank in the obvious readiness of his. “We could wear ourselves out in the next five days. Scorch the skin off each other. Five days is all we have before I go, but it might be all we need.”
“And if we need more than that?”
Fiona waved the enquiry aside with pretended nonchalance. “I’m leaving on Tuesday, Christian. It’s in my contract.”
Privately she marveled at the casual tone she’d dredged up from God-knows-where. How could she tear herself away from him now? This fascination went right back to the wedding day and that first electric melding of their bodies on the dance-floor. Not that she was willing to let him know that. He’d felt so right, so instantly desirable, even though he’d been totally off limits.