Summer's Lease: Escape to paradise with this swoony summer romance: (Shakespeare Sisters)

by Carrie Elks

  ‘I did.’ He took a step towards her. ‘I wanted to say sorry.’

  It was her turn to frown. She stared at him through watery eyes. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I was an asshole. I threw your flowers away.’

  ‘Cristiano’s flowers? Why?’

  ‘I didn’t like them in here. I don’t want you getting flowers from another man. So I put them in the trash.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And then I thought about you coming home and seeing they were gone, and it made me feel like a bastard. So I went and picked some more.’ He looked as confused as he felt. ‘I’m a dick, right?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, they’re beautiful.’

  Sam looked over at the vase, the furrows still deep in his brow. ‘They’re not enough.’

  ‘They’re not?’ She was trying to read him and failing miserably. Where was the man whose sarcasm had fuelled Cristiano’s car down the driveway only a few hours ago? It was hard to equate him with the one standing in front of her, so unsure of himself. And yet, like two sides of the same coin, somehow they formed part of a whole. A multifaceted man, one who could be strong yet fragile, and completely overwhelming. Her own little mystery wrapped in an enigma.

  ‘They’re just flowers, Cesca. They’ll be here for a while and then they’ll die.’

  She licked her dry lips. ‘Then we can pick some more.’

  Sam didn’t reply, though it felt to Cesca that his body and his expression was telling her all she needed to know. He was still staring at her, his eyes wide, his mouth open, and it was as if his body was being drawn to hers. Like a magnet, she could feel his pull, and from the way his muscles tensed she felt he could feel hers, too. The air between them seemed to shimmer, as if the strength of their longing was changing the very molecules there.

  ‘And when those ones die?’ he finally said.

  ‘We just keep on picking.’

  She wasn’t sure what they were talking about any more. Not flowers, that was for sure. Whatever the stupid words escaping from her lips were, Sam seemed to be finding them fascinating.

  ‘We just keep on picking,’ he repeated. ‘I like that.’

  Cesca tipped her head to the side, scrutinising him. Sam took a step forward, clearing half the space between them. When he spoke, his voice was like gravel. ‘How was your date?’

  ‘A flop.’

  A chuckle escaped his lips. ‘Should I be sorry?’

  ‘I don’t know, should you?’

  He looked stronger. More certain. ‘I’m not sorry.’

  ‘I didn’t think you would be. Strangely enough, I’m not sorry, either.’

  ‘That’s like fucking music to my ears.’ He cleared the final distance between them before she could say another word. Not that any came to mind. Her thoughts were too full of him, of his proximity, the smell of his aftershave, the way his hair fell over his forehead. She reached up, her fingers brushing his hairline as her thumb smoothed the furrows on his brow. Her action only made him frown harder. He looked at her as if she was a puzzle waiting to be solved.

  ‘Cesca . . . ’ He breathed her name as if it was oxygen. But she didn’t want to hear his words, she wanted to taste them. To savour them as they tipped from his mouth into hers. To feel them form on his tongue.

  ‘The way you look at me.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s fucking entrancing.’

  Sam dipped down until his eyes were level with hers. She felt his breath on her face, fanning her skin. He blinked and his lashes tangled against hers. Soft, like a snowflake drifting down. Then his hand cupped her chin, his fingers digging into her cheek as he angled her face to the left. The next moment he was closer still, his nose sliding against hers, his lips pressed against the corner of her mouth.

  ‘Is this OK? Tell me this is OK.’

  She was too mesmerised for a moment to answer. But then she felt him hesitate, his lips frozen against hers. ‘It’s OK,’ she said hurriedly, desperate for him to move them. ‘It’s more than OK.’

  That was all it took for him to cradle her head in his hands, his lips sliding across hers as if it was the most natural thing on earth. Then their mouths were moving against each other, softly at first, then firmer, until the need he created was like a drumbeat in Cesca’s veins.

  It was deafening, but she never wanted it to stop.

  22

  You have witchcraft in your lips

  – Henry V

  Sam slid his hand down from Cesca’s face, fingers feathering her neck as his lips moved roughly against hers. His other hand tangled into her hair, against her scalp, all the while kissing her hard, fast, as if he couldn’t get enough. Then he opened his mouth, his tongue teasing her bottom lip, begging silently for her to open hers, too.

  ‘Christ, you taste good.’

  She moaned softly against him. The sound went straight to his groin, making him hard in a matter of seconds. His senses were overflowing, with her taste, her scent, her touch. His body was vibrating to the sound of her sighs.

  ‘You’re so fucking beautiful,’ he whispered.

  ‘You’re the beautiful one.’

  It was like music to his ears. The girl he wanted, wanting him back.

  Cesca arched into him, looping her arms around his neck, linking her fingers as she caressed his skin there. He could feel the warm softness of her body pressed against him. She tasted sweet, her mouth warm, wet and everything he’d hoped for. Sam wanted to pinch himself, see if he was still awake, or if this was another one of those dreams that had been plaguing him for days. The ones that woke him up with a confused mind and a hard dick. The ones where she was always out of reach.

  He’d thought she was out of reach in reality, too. He’d placed her there, after all. In his collection of things to admire but not touch, she was number one on the list.

  Yet here he was, touching her all over, and it was god-damned amazing.

  ‘Sam.’ Her words formed against his mouth. He could feel them vibrating there.

  ‘Mmm.’ He wasn’t willing to stop kissing her. Not yet. Instead he dipped her back, angling her head further still, sliding his lips down to kiss and nip at her neck. Her skin still held a memory of perfume there. Something classy and floral. He could smell it, inhale it, practically taste it.

  ‘God, Sam.’ Her words were little more than air. Gasped and strangled. ‘Don’t stop.’

  ‘Wasn’t going to.’ He moved his hand up from her waist, cupping her breasts, feeling the shape of them against his palm. Her nipples were hard, pressing against the fabric there. He pinched one between his thumb and forefinger, rolling her flesh until he could feel her fingers dig into his neck. Her nails scraped his skin, a harsh, scratching pain that only made him want more.

  ‘Did he touch you like this?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head rapidly.

  ‘Did he make you feel like this?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘I can’t stand to think about it.’

  ‘Then don’t. Nothing happened. He hardly talked to me, he was busy all night. And even if he had I would have bored him to death. You’re the only subject I wanted to talk about, anyway.’

  ‘You wanted to talk about me?’

  ‘Everything about tonight was about you. Even the clothes I’m wearing.’

  ‘In that case, I appreciate them.’

  Sam slid his hand beneath the neckline of her dress, the thin fabric giving way beneath his touch. He could feel the lace of her bra, barely covering her breasts, a sudden roughness in contrast to her silky-soft skin. When he brushed his thumb against her nipple it made Cesca jump. A quiet ‘oh’ escaped from her lips. Sam glanced up from his vantage point at her neck, catching her eyes. They were wide, expressive, reflecting the light of the hallway. He wanted to lose himself in their warm depths. There was a wonder there, a shock at the way the evening had turned, but also a desire that he could feel touching him deep inside.

  He pulled back, lifting his head to hers. ‘I’ve bee
n thinking about doing this for days.’

  ‘You have?’ She frowned. ‘I didn’t notice.’

  ‘You didn’t notice me following you around the house? You didn’t see me stalking you out to the car tonight, and pretty much warning off your date?’

  A chuckle rumbled from her throat. ‘I did wonder why you were so angry.’

  ‘I was furious,’ he told her, reaching out a finger to trace along the swell of her breasts. He stopped in the middle, where the flesh dipped against her ribcage. There was a line of tiny buttons there and he unfastened them one by one, until the fabric fell open, revealing her pale blue bra. ‘You were going out with another man. And all I could think of was that you were going to have a better time with him than me.’

  ‘I didn’t.’ Her voice cut off as he pushed his fingers beneath the lace edge of her bra. ‘Have a better time, that is. I barely saw him, if you want to know. He spent more time talking to the owner than he did with me.’

  It was Sam’s turn to frown. ‘What an asshole.’ His fingers slid completely inside. She gasped as she felt the tips slide against her. ‘I wouldn’t ignore you on a date.’

  ‘I know you wouldn’t.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to.’ He looked up again. ‘Because the only thing I’d want to talk about would be you.’

  ‘That’s a very boring conversation.’

  Sam laughed. ‘You’re so fucking cute.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘You know I don’t like that word.’

  He stopped his hand movements. In a flash her own hand moved to join his, pressing him against her breast. ‘I thought I told you not to stop.’

  Chastened, he cupped her again, feeling the weight of her in his palm. ‘Why don’t you like being called cute?’

  ‘Because I’m five foot nothing and it makes me feel like a kid.’

  He squeezed hard. ‘You don’t feel like a kid to me.’ Roughly, he dragged the fabric cup down, below her breast. Exposing her. The wire beneath it pushed her up, her nipple high and proud.

  ‘Can I kiss you here?’ He ran a finger over the rosy peak.

  Her eyes flickered down. A look of uncertainty flashed across them.

  ‘I don’t have to . . . ’ Sam voiced his concern. ‘Not if you don’t want to.’

  ‘I want you to.’

  ‘But?’ he prompted.

  She was silent for a moment. Had he gone too far? Sam didn’t think so. In his experience – and if you made him, he would admit it was fairly extensive – getting to second base was rarely a reason to stop. Yet Cesca was so far removed from the girls he’d been used to he wasn’t even sure what she was thinking.

  ‘But it’s been a while,’ she finally admitted. ‘Since I’ve done this kind of thing, I mean. A long while.’

  He wasn’t sure why that thought excited him so much. It was as wrong as wanting a girl to be a virgin when the guy was a player. Such disparity in power wasn’t ever something he’d looked for in a relationship. But being the one to ignite this feeling inside her . . . well that was like a shot of adrenalin to the heart.

  ‘We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.’

  She was alarmed. ‘I want to, I do. Believe me.’ She looked down at her still-erect nipple. ‘And if you don’t believe me, maybe my body can persuade you.’

  ‘Sweetheart, your body could persuade me of anything right now.’

  She grabbed his thumb, moving it gently across her skin. The peak of her breasts dug into the pad. ‘Do I need to persuade you?’

  ‘Does it look like I need persuading?’ Surely she could feel the ridge of his cock against her leg? He wasn’t exactly pulling it away from her. ‘Does it feel like I do?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Then don’t worry about my motivations, Cesca. I can promise you I’m all in here.’

  She swallowed nervously. He watched the delicate skin of her neck undulate as she did. ‘You are?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ He said it loudly. Resolutely. Unsure of whether he was trying to persuade her or himself. But the truth of the words was so apparent, so obvious, it was amazing to him that she couldn’t see that too.

  ‘OK then.’

  ‘OK?’ He wasn’t quite sure what she meant. There was no way he wanted to go further than she was ready for. Not after dancing around her for so long. But after the night he’d had – one spent pacing furiously, worried about what she was up to with that Italian asshole – it was hard to restrain himself.

  ‘OK then, don’t stop,’ she told him. ‘Keep doing what you’re doing, but do it a bit quicker.’

  He couldn’t help but laugh at her petulant tone. ‘Don’t get angry at me. I don’t like it when you’re angry.’

  She arched an eyebrow. ‘When have you seen me angry?’ Not waiting for his answer, she threaded her fingers through his hair, pushing him down, until his lips were only a breath away from her nipple.

  Sam waited, tasting the anticipation, feeling the warmth radiating from her. ‘How about when I edited your work without asking you first?’

  ‘That was different. That was . . . oh . . . ’

  He silenced her with a sweep of his lips. Then, capturing her nipple between them, he pulled her in, teasing her softly with his tongue. He felt her harden still more, the blood rushing to the peak, making her sensitive and achy. Then he sucked at her, his mouth closing around her flesh, the delighted gasp escaping her lips sounding like music to his ears.

  His next few minutes were spent worshipping at her breasts, kissing first one then the other until she was a hot mess of sighs. The throbbing between his legs increased, becoming almost painful, and he was certain that if he carried on for much longer he was likely to explode.

  ‘Cesca?’ It was his turn to whisper against her skin. He licked her then blew softly, the cold air making her skin tighter still.

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Can we go up to my room?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  It wasn’t a no, and that was all he needed to hear.

  Twenty steps. Nineteen. Only eighteen steps until they got there. Cesca seemed as impatient as him, half-running up the stairs as his fingers rested on the swell of her behind. When they reached his room he felt the slightest hesitation. Not because he didn’t want her in there, but because he wanted her in there too much. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to.

  Pushing the door open, he gestured for her to go in. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  She looked at him, amused. ‘No thank you.’

  ‘Then take a seat.’

  That made her burst out laughing. ‘You’re making this sound like a job interview.’

  He couldn’t help but join in, seeing the truth of her words. ‘I’m sorry, it just feels a bit weird.’

  ‘Bringing me to your room?’

  ‘No, not at all. Bringing a girl to my room. It’s like being a teenager all over again. Except I never brought a girl to my room when I was a teenager.’

  Cesca was disbelieving. ‘Never?’

  ‘Not this room.’ He shook his head, looking around. Of course the room was different to when he was a kid. Cooler, more sophisticated. But the bare bones were still the same – the walls, the shape, the layout of the furniture. There was something else, too. Something he wasn’t quite able to put into words yet. The feeling that for the first time in six years the real him was coming out. Not the Hollywood Sam who attracted women like a jar of honey attracted flies, but the kid who was still deep inside him. The one he’d tried to shield for too long.

  If he thought about it too much it would mess his mind. He shook his head to get rid of the voice inside. He didn’t want to think about anything else but her.

  Cesca sat down on his bed, the covers dipping beneath her. ‘In that case I’m honoured.’ Her eyes met his. ‘And relieved.’

  ‘Why relieved?’ There was too much distance between them. He walked over to the bed, sitting down next to her. Without thinking he took her hand between his, running the pad of his
thumb across her palm. That simple connection soothed him, locked away the anxiety that only a few minutes apart had created. When their bodies connected, it seemed as though their minds did, too.

  ‘I had images of you being rampant in here,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t think I could live up to that.’

  ‘Oh, I was rampant. It was just a party for one, that’s all.’ He lay back on the bed, pulling her with him so she was curled up at his side, her head resting on his chest.

  ‘You don’t strike me as the sort to want for female company.’

  He swallowed hard. ‘I don’t want to talk about female company.’

  ‘No?’ She propped herself up on her elbow, surveying him carefully. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’m with you. And you’re the only female I’m interested in.’

  He could sense the insecurity wafting from her in waves. Didn’t she know how much he wanted her? It was a shock to him that she couldn’t see how much he liked her, admired her, wanted to possess her.

  She let out a lungful of air. He reached out to trace her lips, his finger following the line where pink fullness gave way to flesh. She pursed her mouth, kissing it, then her tongue peeked out to taste him. The gesture sent the blood straight to his cock. He allowed himself to fantasise for a moment, picturing those full lips enveloping him, as her hair trailed down his thighs. It was electric.

  ‘Do that again and I won’t answer for my actions.’

  She stared at him, her eyes wide. Then, deliberately, she grabbed his hand, bringing his finger back to her mouth. This time she sucked him inside. It was like sliding against velvet. Warm and wet. Jesus Christ, did she know what she was doing to him?

  He flipped her over on the bed, her back landing on the mattress. Straddling her hips, his knees either side of her, he grabbed her hands, lifting them over her head. The movement made her chest rise up, her bra visible beneath the open buttons of her dress. Her skin glowed in the soft light of his bedroom.

  When he looked at her he half expected to see shock in her eyes. Instead there was a strength that surprised and gratified him. His action hadn’t surprised her at all, he’d done exactly what she’d wanted him to.