Now there were two mistakes that he would have to see corrected. He crossed the room with sure steps, intent on calling to the person inside the bathroom and letting them know that they were in a private suite and they would need to move their things as soon as alternate arrangements could be made for them. He was not going to be put out of his own room for anyone.
As he stepped into the area between the adjoining rooms it was evident that the music was coming from the bath portion of the large area, housed behind its own door, which at the moment stood wide open.
Christian stared open-mouthed through the opening at the vision reclining in the clawfooted tub he had ordered for his parents as a special addition to their decor. In his wildest imagination he could have never guessed he had only to return home to find the woman he had searched so hard for, ready and waiting for him in his own bathtub.
Whitney laid relaxing in the bath, her eyes closed and her slender arms draped lazily along both sides. Her long curls hung over the back rim and it was the sight of that beautiful russet hair, cascading in long ringlets nearly to the floor that set Christian’s blood pounding.
At that very moment, Whitney opened her eyes and saw the devil incarnate standing at the doorway, a lecherous grin pasted across his heart-stoppingly handsome face.
It was several moments before the scream tore its way out of her throat.
It took a split second for Christian to bridge the distance between himself and Whitney and clamp his hand firmly across her mouth, effectively silencing her. Her green eyes spewed her hatred as pent-up rage coursed through her. Now he bothered to show up? After so long? Why? And how darehe barge into her bath!
She clawed at his fingers where they held her in their iron grasp but was unable to make her senses ignore the masculine scent of his hand directly beneath her flaring nostrils. He seemed genuinely amused by her efforts to free herself if the deep throaty laughter against her ear was any indication. Suddenly the laughter broke off and was replaced by his sharp intake of breathe. Whitney was mortified to see that the thick layer of bubbles in which she had been soaking had parted and Christian was being afforded an unobstructed view of her ivory breasts beneath the water’s surface. Her hands flew to cover herself but the damage had already been done.
“Whitney,” her name was a ragged rasp. “I’m going to take my hand away but you have to promise not to scream anymore. Will you do that?”
She adamantly shook her head but Christian steadfastly maintained his hold, not convinced.
“If you make a sound—any sound—you’ll have a lot of explaining to do because I’m going to tell everyone that you were waiting for me to return tonight. The Walstens have known me nearly my entire life—who do you think they’ll believe?”
The bastard! Whitney quickly weighed the ramifications of his threat and decided that she stood to lose more than he did if she forced his hand. She didn’t want word of this to reach Stephan.
Much more deliberately, she slowly nodded her head and this time his hand slid away, his long, lean fingers caressing her neck as he drew them away, sending shivers up and down her spine. Whitney twisted her upper body to the side, carefully keeping herself covered as she did so, until she was able to glare up into his obsidian eyes. He was only a few scant inches away and she could see her reflection in the dark pools of his eyes. Her naked reflection.
“Get the hell out of my bathroom!” The words were like granite, deathly cold in their intensity as she ground them out between clenched teeth.
“Glad to see me too I see,” Christian commented dryly, letting his eyes slide over her as he took note of Whitney’s changed appearance. Her beautifully sculpted face, framed by the halo of her splendid hair was even more lovely than he remembered. She was exquisite, an angel and Christian found it hard to concentrate on anything beyond the charms he knew lay within his reach beneath the quickly evaporating suds.
He had waited so long to clear the air between them though. Did he really want to do that now that fate had brought her back to him? By the looks of it she wouldn’t believe him anyway but what the hell. At least she couldn’t accuse him of not trying. It never occurred to him that by forcing her to sit naked in a cooling tub of water if he decided to go ahead and apologize he would only be adding fuel to the fire.
Instead he ran his hand down the length of her hair where it was draped over the edge of the bathtub before saying matter-of-factly, “No, I don’t believe I’ll be leaving just yet. I’ve waited nearly a year to get this off my chest so I think you’ll just sit there and listen to what I have to say.” And just as soon as he said his piece he’d make her tell him just why she was here.
“You could at least let me get dressed first!”
Whitney’s thoughts were a jumbled mess as she tried to sort out why he was here. And why had he chosen tonight to return? Could it be that he actually did have an interest in the place now that the anniversary of the sale was fast approaching? Or had he simply tired of the fast-paced life of New York City and had decided to come home to torture the poor little secretary who had bought his business? Maybe that was it!
He couldn’t have known how it was possible for her afford the inn, so he was here to get some answers, find out where her money came from. Maybe he had heard she was wealthy, the exact opposite of his own situation if she could believe what the Walstens had said, and now just like all the others before him, he thought he could talk her into sharing it with him. Was that why he hadn’t called first? He hadn’t wanted her to escape? Whitney tried to convince herself that she had hit upon the correct explanation as she waited impatiently for him to leave. But there he was, a devilish grin plastered across his heartbreakingly handsome face as he stubbornly refused to budge from where he was leaning insolently against the doorframe.
“No, I definitely like you better undressed,” Christian told her lightly, letting his roving eyes stray across her naked shoulders and the exposed tops of her breasts. “But that’s what got me into trouble the last time we were together, and what brings me to say this. I was completely out of line that night in New York and I’m sorry.”
Whitney watched and listened, humiliated beyond belief that he wouldn’t allow her the common courtesy of dressing before he purged his conscience. As she huddled under the tepid water, her feelings of loathing grew tenfold.
Green shards of icy disdain greeted Christian when he met her eyes and Christian felt his own temper flare irrationally. He was apologizing, wasn’t he? What more did she want? A few brief kisses were hardly enough to be this upset about! He wasn’t a man used to admitting his errors, it didn’t sit well to have his efforts at atonement rejected.
“Is that all you wanted to say? Thatwas your apology?” Whitney asked sharply. He hadn’t even mentioned ignoring her for the past year.
A condescending nod was all the answer she was going to get.
“Then get out! Now!” she exploded, flinging a hand wildly in the direction of the door, not caring if she gave him an eyeful or not. “I don’t want to see you in my house ever again!”
Christian’s midnight eyes narrowed to mere slits as her words repeated themselves in his bemused brain. It was several moments before the full implication of what Whitney had just said sank in. Her house? Her house! She was the new owner?
He dragged his fingers through his hair and sank to his haunches on the floor beside the bathtub. He had to think.
Why would Whitney have purchased his home? How could she have even known about it? He hadn’t told a soul other than Stephan about his need for money. Last spring Tess hadn’t even known. Had he made Whitney so angry that she had employed her considerable resources to find the one thing that left him most vulnerable just for the sake of revenge? Tess had said she was more than comfortably well-off, so he supposed it was within her means to have done so. But she didn’t seem the type. He didn’t want to think that she would be capable of something like that. But what else could he believe?
Whit
ney didn’t understand the puzzled looks that were passing across Christian’s face and what was more she didn’t care to. He was supposed to be out of her life, a part of her past. She didn’t want to be a victim of her feelings for him again.
Apprehension clawed at her belly as he turned sideways to give her a long, measuring look and she didn’t like the way his was clenching his jaw. His eyes were unreadable in their intensity and instinctively Whitney knew the tides had turned and she was about to be on the receiving end of his anger. She’d been there before.
“You did it for spite, didn’t you?” As Christian pinned her with his eyes, Whitney knew he didn’t really expect an answer.
“You bought my house right out from under me? Just because I stole a few kisses and hurt your feelings?” He was shouting now, gripping the edge of the bathtub as he threw the accusations at her.
Whitney refused to cower before him.
“You knew I bought Mountain Meadow Inn and you didn’t care! If you had you would have never signed the contract,” Whitney railed back at him, unmindful that she was no longer covered by anything other than the last remnants of the quickly evaporating bubbles.
“I suppose now you want it back?” she taunted.
“Hell, yes! Why else would I be here, woman?” Christian’s angry words were like a stinging slap to Whitney’s dream of building a life in her new-found home. Nothing would be the same if he meant to return. By ignoring the place for so long she had assumed, obviously incorrectly, that he had washed his hands of the place. The buyback clause had been put in place to protect the reputation of the inn just in case the new owner had proved incompetent, which she hadn’t. Well, she wasn’t going to let it go without a fight.
She reached out pushed angrily at him, causing him to lose his balance and fall backward. As he did, she grabbed the large towel she had placed on a nearby chair earlier and held it open in front of her, standing quickly and stepping from the bathtub. She barely had time to wrap the snowy white towel snugly around her before Christian was again on his feet and she found herself pinned against the wall, his steely arms braced on either side of her, blocking her escape. She looked up into his murderous eyes, seeing the scathing fury. She had no fear. This man had poisoned her life and ruined her chances to be happy with the only decent man to ever show her an ounce of true love. She wasn’t going to let him do it anymore. She wanted him permanently out of her life so that the friendship she felt for Stephan would stand a chance of growing into love. It could never happen with Christian present.
You’re already in love.
“Oh, shut up!” she mentally commanded the annoying little voice.
“If you didn’t want me to buy this place, why did you sign it over in the first place?” she persisted, tipping her face into his when he leaned over her. She was allowing the months of resentment over being ignored to replace her good sense.
“I thought you bought it on a whim,” Christian ground out, unwilling to believe that he could have been so wrong. He had been conned out of his home by a revenge-seeking, rich brat! No, that wasn’t quite true. He had practically handed it to her.
“That’s the most stupid, idiotic thing I’ve ever heard!” Whitney went on rashly. “At least I was smart enough to ask a few questions before I entered into this business deal. I knew you needed money or you wouldn’t have sold this place. If it meant so much to you, you shouldn’t have done it. And I would have thought that if the inn meant so much to you I would have heard from you once in awhile.”
It didn’t matter that she was right on all counts. She epitomized everything that had been wrong with Christian’s life lately. The fact that he was financially in deficit while she was swimming in money. The fact that he had demeaned himself for the sake of something precious while all she had to do was sign a check to obtain anything her heart desired. And, the fact that she was so amazingly beautiful, even more so than before. Her slender body was only inches away, pushing him past limits no man could bear, past the chaste limits he had lived with since she had left. Three times in the past she had caused him to give in to his physical urges—just as he was going to do again.
Savagely, he brought his lips down on hers, crushing them in a kiss meant to master her, to punish her for her very existence and the power she had over him. He stilled her protests with his tongue, slipping it into the hot, moist recess of her mouth, tasting with pleasure the honeyed sweetness he found there. His hand released her chin and he drew her tightly against him as he eagerly pressed her luscious curves against the hard planes of his body. Thrusting his hips against hers, he let her feel his powerful need as he held her trapped against the wall, ignoring her frantic struggles while he greedily plundered her soft mouth with his own.
Whitney tried in vain to break away, silently crying out over and over in her mind, “No, no, nooo!” This couldn’t be happening again! She wouldn’t allow herself to give in to the erotic feelings this man could make spread through her like wildfire. Not this time. But his touch sliced her anger to shreds, leaving her defenseless and vulnerable to the love hidden behind it.
The hot, demanding kisses took their toll. An urgent aching need throbbed deep in her loins. Uncontrollable desire for his flesh to melt into hers drained all rational thought from Whitney. She needed more, so much more from him.
But she didn’t want a man like Christian. She couldn’t. She tried to remind herself that she hated him for the humiliation he had heaped on her, for stifling her ability to be with Stephan. He even made her hate her own body for its shameful, wanton reaction to his fevered touch.
When his lips left hers to trail smoldering kisses along the slender column of her neck, Whitney tried to weakly protest, “Christian…don’t. You have to stop…please.”
“Stop what?” he murmured, letting his tongue trace her sensitive earlobe, sucking on the soft flesh for a moment. “This?”
Against her will, her body arched against his in response, encouraging him even further. “Or this,” he whispered huskily, tipping her head back to allow him to once again ravish her quivering mouth. He only slowed his seductive assault when he felt her resolve crumble.
Whitney felt it too. The struggle to maintain control of her own body became too much to bear and at last, weary of the fight she surrendered to her desires, the towel sliding unnoticed to the floor as she entwined her arms around Christian’s neck. Her lips parted beneath his and she hesitantly met his pleasure-giving tongue with her own warm, wet one. Christian growled low in his throat and tightened his hold on her, crushing her against the massive strength of his broad chest.
Whitney leaned into him, frightened by the noticeably hard presence of his desire pressed boldly against her belly but secretly excited that she could have that kind of control over him. A gasp escaped her when Christian’s wicked hands boldly stroked her ribs, seductively brushing the sides of her swollen breasts. From far away she heard her own yearning cry for more as finally his hand splayed possessively across her full breast, tantalizing her, pushing her to the brink of endurance as he kneaded the soft mound with an expert touch.
Whitney stood trembling and naked within the circle of Christian’s embrace, oblivious to everything except the magic his hands worked on her fevered flesh as they roamed wherever he willed them.
When his fingers sought out a pink-tipped nipple and slowly rolled it back and forth until it had become a taut peak Whitney thought she would die of pleasure but still he gave her more. His lips trailed downward, finding the nipple and sucking greedily at the feast of female flesh. Whitney pushed her hands through his thick, black mane of hair, holding him to her as she writhed with sexual desperation, all feelings of hatred long forgotten. When her legs buckled Christian lifted her effortlessly and carried to the bedroom where he carefully laid her against the pillows on the bed.
As the cool night air rushed to fill the void created when Christian stepped away Whitney’s bemused senses cleared and she realized with alarm what was a
bout to happen. Christian had quickly stripped off his shirt and she was powerless to tear her eyes from the sight of his muscled chest and torso. As he kicked off his shoes and was reaching to slide the zipper of his jeans open, his gleaming, passion-glazed eyes devouring the sight of her perfectly shaped thighs and the dark, russet triangle nestled between them Whitney panicked. Grabbing the coverlet she pulled it around her.
“You…have to…leave. Now!” she said, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She jumped from the bed and backed toward the connecting door leading back to the dressing room.
Christian followed her stealthily, smoothly, like any predator would its prey. The look in his piercing eyes chilled Whitney to the bone.
“I am going to have you, Whitney. On the bed, on the floor; it doesn’t matter. I will love you tonight.” He said it in such a low, deep voice she couldn’t be sure she had heard him correctly.
“No,” she cried frantically, taking another step backward in the face of his relentless approach. “I don’t…want you!”
“Don’t lie to yourself. You want me just as much as I want you.” There was an uncanny calmness about him, a relentless intensity to each move he made. Whitney knew that unless she did something quickly his prophecy would come true. Her tortured body was already turning on her as each step brought him nearer, urging her to give in to him, to let her first experience making love be with the man she would always love in her heart.
She shook her head, the look of a trapped doe in her wide green eyes. But even that failed to stop Christian from rounding the end of the bed and stepping closer to her, determination written across his ruggedly handsome face. When her back suddenly bumped into the connecting door, Whitney dashed behind it before he could stop her. She slid the lock into place just as his shoulder smashed into the wooden barrier.
“Open this door, Whitney.” The harsh command was issued in a tone others had learned to obey without question.
Don’t Call Me Sweetheart Page 12