Harlequin Desire June 2020 - Box Set 1 of 2

by Maureen Child

  He swam at the gym’s pool, but it wasn’t the same as spearfishing or free diving.

  Finn felt the tingles of restlessness dancing across the back of his neck. He’d forgone his second trip to the mountains—snowboarding—because Beah told him she would be back in Boston this week.

  He’d stuck around because he’d missed her. More than he should.

  Finn took a deep draft of his beer, feeling stupid for making a romantic meal for his once-upon-a-time wife. They hadn’t made any firm plans for tonight but he’d assumed, judging by their sex tinged, I-need-you-bad banter earlier, that they’d be spending the night together.

  But her meeting with Marshall Ford had obviously rolled, as he knew her meetings often did, into drinks and then a meal. Entertaining clients was part of Beah’s job, he understood the concept, but he didn’t have to like it.

  He liked it a hell of a lot less when her client was a good-looking son of a bitch, with more money than God, young and single. And, yeah, he’d looked up Ford as soon as he got to his office…

  His jealousy was pathetic.

  This was why he’d avoided Beah for so damn long, he thought. Obviously, and subconsciously, he’d realized their attraction was too strong, their magnetic pull too great, and it was easier to keep their distance than to revisit their always-bubbling desire. Having a major ocean between them helped.

  Once the sale was over, life would go back to normal. Beah would return to London permanently, their affair would be over, and his life would settle down.

  But dammit, just having her around made him feel lighter, brighter, less serious. Beah could always take him out of his head, lighten his mental load, make him laugh. And maybe that was why his younger self couldn’t deal with her, couldn’t cope with what they had. Sure, they’d married quickly, but he’d known her; his soul had recognized her. She was like a warm, tropical wind blowing fresh air through the bad parts of him—those closed-up, calcified caves and grottoes devoid of air and light for the longest time.

  He worried that the longer she stuck around, the more he’d start to rely on her, start to lean on her. Because life had taught him the women he leaned on, loved—his mom, his stepmom, even Thandi, Ronan’s wife, to an extent—had all left him.

  Tennyson had it backward: it was better not to have loved than to have loved and lost.

  But was that really true? Or was he just a yellow-bellied coward? Sure, he could jump out of helicopters onto virgin snow at twelve thousand feet, dive from buildings with a parachute on his back and minimal space between him and the ground, fly down steeply angled paths on his dirt bike…but love and relationships took a special type of courage.

  And Beah was the only woman who’d ever made him feel the way he did when he was flying down a black diamond run or bailing out of an airplane.

  Breathless, scared, exhilarated, utterly focused.

  No wonder she scared the crap out of him.

  Adventure sports could break his body, but he’d risk that possibility any day of the week. A broken heart? No thank you.

  And Beah was the only woman who could snap him like a twig.

  Finn heard the faint snick of his front door opening, heard the clunk of her tote bag hitting the floor, the tap-tap of her heels across his hall. Finn didn’t turn around but his body immediately reacted to her presence; his loins tightened and his heart bounced off his chest, careened around his rib cage. She was here.

  It was about damn time.

  Her gorgeous scent enveloped him first and then her arms came around his waist as she laid her cheek on his shoulder blade. Finn’s heart settled and sighed and he couldn’t help reaching around to grip her lower thigh with his free hand.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late.”

  He wasn’t going to ask; he really wasn’t.

  “How was dinner with Marsh?”

  He felt, sensed, Beah’s wide smile. “Lovely. His partner Alex joined us. He’s a clothing designer in LA and he’s been pushing Marsh to start collecting. He was supposed to join us at Murphy’s but he had to meet a fabric supplier across town and his meeting ran late.”

  Marsh Ford was gay. Finn didn’t know whether to feel relieved or foolish. He could do both at the same time. Finn turned around and gathered Beah to him, smiling when she reached up to drop a kiss on his jawline.

  “Sorry I didn’t let you know, but my phone battery ran out of juice. I forgot to charge it when I got to the office.”

  He wanted to tell her it was okay but he was still a little pissed that he’d made a meal, waited for her, wondered where she was.

  Beah tipped her head to the side, her eyes on his. “You okay?”

  “Sure, why?”

  “Just checking.” Beah sniffed. “Did you make Thai prawn curry for supper?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you save me any? If you didn’t, I’ll be pissed. You know how much I love your Thai prawn curry.”

  Yeah, he did. That was why he’d made it. But she didn’t need to know how much effort he’d gone to. He felt enough of an idiot as it was. Finn hoped she didn’t notice, or comment on, the wet, superexpensive bottle of French champagne still dripping condensation all over his kitchen counter and the candles on the dining table.

  Well, there was one tried and tested way to distract her. Finn cupped her face in his hands and bent his lips to cover hers. He’d meant his kiss to stay gentle, at least initially, but Beah immediately burrowed in close, her lips parted, and the world ignited.

  Then Beah’s tongue stroked his and Finn’s world rocked, then settled. Holding Beah felt normal. But better than normal, it felt right. She was the only one who’d ever made him feel both excited and comfortable at the same time, like he was leaving earth in a spaceship while wearing his favorite pair of jeans. There had been other women between then and now—he was divorced, not dead—but nobody had ever held him like she did, touched him like she did.

  Nobody tasted as she did.

  Nobody, he suspected, ever would. She sipped, then sucked and then, to mix it up, swirled her tongue around his. Finn’s stomach dived as he took control of the kiss, gently biting her bottom lip, before soothing the sting with a touch of his tongue. And he couldn’t help his hands moving over her body…

  It was what they were made to do. Beah had beautiful bumps in her spine, a surprisingly full bottom, and he bent his knees slightly to trace the back of her thighs, up and over her butt cheeks, smiling when he felt the cord of her thong. His woman wore sexy underwear and he loved it. Finn moved his hand between them and he skimmed her mound, happily swallowing her moans of encouragement. They’d barely started but he could feel her heat, her happiness at being in his arms.

  Did this feel right to her, too?

  Beah pushed his hand away and flipped open the catch of her pants, pushing the zipper down. The pants hung on the curve of her hips and he took the invitation and slid his fingers over the lacy material, finding the edges of her tiny triangle. Beah wiggled against his hand as he slid his finger under the seam, slipping through her heat and wetness to Beah’s tiny bundle of nerves.

  Beah sank against him, her knees dissolving, and Finn tightened his arm around her back, pulling her to him as her legs widened, allowing him deeper access. He pushed into her. One finger, then two, and his thumb was brushing her clitoris.

  “Beah, you are so very sexy,” Finn muttered against her mouth, staring into her foggy-with-lust eyes.

  “We should stop.” But her words were accompanied by a push against his fingers, encouraging him to go deeper, so Finn decided to listen to her actions, not her words.

  They didn’t need to stop. All the lights in his house were off, they stood in the shadows and the yachties were inside, warm and toasty.

  They were doing this. Here. And now.

  Nothing was more important…

  “Take th
is moment, Beah, and lose yourself. Lose control.”

  Beah dragged her eyes up to meet his. “I don’t know if I can.”

  Finn bent his knees, just a little, to level his gaze with hers. He tapped his fingers against the inside of her channel and Beah sucked in a sharp breath. Yeah, she liked that. “You can come. And you will.”

  He could see the doubt hovering on her lips but he stopped her words with a hard kiss, a flick of his thumb against her clitoris. She pushed even closer to him.

  Hampered by her pants, he shoved them down her hips and hooked his foot around the leg of the low wooden table to drag it closer.

  Finn cupped the underneath of Beah’s thigh and placed her foot on the table, opening her up to his gaze and giving him complete control. Leaving her mouth, Finn looked down at her, pretty in the moonlight. He pulled her thong to one side and stared, pulling his fingers out of her to trace her small red strip of hair with one finger, ramping up her pleasure by delaying the inevitable.

  Finn transferred his gaze to Beah’s face, to find her watching his actions, completely turned on.

  Beah lifted her hand up to his jaw, pushing her fingers into his skin to make him turn his head. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his mouth, her tongue telling him exactly what she wanted his fingers to do. She was now completely caught up in her own pleasure; she had no thoughts for him and what he needed and it didn’t matter.

  Because what he most needed was to watch her fall apart in his arms, completely and utterly lost in what he could do to her.

  And for her.

  Beah’s pleasure was all that mattered…

  And talking about her pleasure, Finn started to fully concentrate on what he was doing, sliding his finger over her clitoris and into her vagina in a slow, steady, orgasm-building rhythm. He needed more—he wasn’t sure what, so he lifted his other hand to push open the sides of her coat, impressed he still had enough blood flowing to his brain to undo the buttons of her shirt, leaving it to fall open and show a hint of her ivory bra. His tanned hand was dark against her lighter skin—and then it disappeared beneath the cup of her bra to cover her breast. Instantly her nipple swelled into his palm, demanding attention.

  He aimed to devastate her control—fingers in her panties and fingers rubbing her nipple—and he was rewarded by the sound of her harsh breathing, which told him her whole world had narrowed to this moment. She was completely entranced by what he was doing to her. Beah rested her forehead against his collarbone, a gooey, melty mess in his arms, and he felt her climbing up and up, looking for her release. How was it for women? Finn briefly wondered. Did it start, as it did with him, in the base of their spine? Was it a rush, a bold, intense light shooting through their system? Or was it like a warm wave?

  However it felt, he’d never seen anyone sexier than Beah looked, right this minute, her lips parted and her face flushed. Her hair was falling out of her knot, and her eyes were a deep, dark, mesmerizing gold. She looked wild.

  “You’re close, Beah, and damn pretty,” Finn growled in her ear. “So very, very sexy.”

  She liked the words, he could tell. He gave her some more. “I could come just by looking at you as you fall apart.”

  It was the truth. He felt like he was about to blow and she’d yet to touch him.

  “Finn, I need…”

  “Me. You need me, doing this,” Finn muttered, pushing another finger into her and pushing his thumb against her clit. Beah moaned. Then shuddered.

  “Come for me. Right now.”

  At his command Beah fell, and fell, instinctively bucking against his fingers as she milked every last sensation from her orgasm. She didn’t notice he’d pulled his hand away from her breast to shove it down his own pants. He just needed one tug, maybe two and yep, he was there with her, his hand warm and sticky as he orgasmed.

  Their harsh breaths bounced off the water and Finn closed his eyes.

  He’d been determined to make Beah lose control but in doing so, he’d also lost his.

  SEVEN

  It was their sixth date since his ultimatum, and Keely had yet to see Dare naked again. But she was damned if she was going to ask him when and where they would have sex. She wasn’t that desperate.

  Okay, she was more than desperate, but she refused to let him in on her little secret. A girl had her pride. Then why, if she wasn’t getting great sex as he’d promised, had she agreed to join him for a casual meal at his favorite bar? Because she—dammit and damn him—really enjoyed his company. Dare was smart, witty and occasionally deep and Keely loved talking to him. And she liked the feeling of being wooed, charmed, flirted with and thought about. She liked the flowers and the text messages, the way he phoned just before eleven to say good-night.

  She liked him.

  But she had to get them back on track, back to all they could be, all they could have. The truth was, she was enjoying dating Dare a bit too much. And that was unacceptable. She was not going to fall in love with Wilfred Seymour. Not, not, not.

  Tonight, because she needed to protect herself, and her tender heart, she was going to give him an ultimatum. It was either back to the bedroom or break up…

  Keely slid into the booth and sighed when Dare sat on the same side of the table as her, shoulder to shoulder, his thigh pressed against hers. A waitress approached them and Keely couldn’t blame her for not being able to pull her eyes off her date…off Dare, she corrected.

  Dare ordered her a glass of chardonnay and himself a beer and when the waitress finally left, he gently jammed his elbow into her side. “You’re quiet. Everything okay?”

  Keely shifted on the bench to sit in the corner of the booth, putting a healthy amount of distance between her and the man who kept her awake at night and, when she did manage to fall asleep, was the star of her fairly dirty dreams.

  She could do this; she had to do this. And this bar—down to earth and unpretentious—was the perfect place to have this conversation. “We need to talk.”

  Dare nodded. “I’ve been expecting you to say this and the answer is no. We’re not going back to the way we were.” He had the balls to tack a smile onto the end of his statement and Keely felt her temper spark.

  “You’re not the only person in this relationship,” Keely shot back.

  “I’m the only one with some sense,” Dare retorted, leaning back. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m tired, Keels. I’ve had a hell of a day. And I’m horny. Let’s not do this tonight, okay?”

  She’d noticed the blue smudges under his eyes, the deeper grooves around his mouth. She wanted to know why he looked shattered, what had caused his stress, why he looked unhappy. But she couldn’t allow herself to go there; it was too dangerous.

  “I can take care of the horny,” Keely told him, using her most seductive voice and putting her hand on his thigh. She could do sex. It was emotion that scared her stupid.

  Dare looked disappointed and then anger flashed in his eyes. “Such a predictable response, Killer. And boring.”

  Boring? Okay, that stung. Keely jerked her hand off his leg and narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m boring?”

  Dare rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say you are boring, I said your response was.”

  “What do you want me to say, Wilfred?”

  The waitress strolled across the room with their drinks and when she got to the table, she darted a glance to Keely and then Dare, obviously sensing the tension between them. Dare ignored her curiosity and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. “Do you have any aspirin?” he quietly asked.

  Keely, caught on the back foot, nodded and pulled her bag onto her lap. She shoved her hand inside, looking for the small tin in which she kept a few tablets. Finding it, she opened it and shook the contents into her hand.

  “How many do you need?” she quietly.

  Dare pi
cked three pills off her hand, threw them into his mouth and chased them down with a few gulps of beer. Placing his beer back onto the table, he half turned to face her.

  “I’ve had a shitty day. I lost a court case and one of my oldest clients was arrested for fraud, which pisses me off because I warned him. My favorite paralegal quit to join another firm and I have the headache from hell,” Dare quietly told her. “And instead of asking me what’s wrong, the person I couldn’t wait to see, the one person who always brightens my mood, immediately reduces what we have to sex.”

  Okay, he was seriously pissed. And judging by the pain in his midnight blue eyes, hurt. She hadn’t meant to hurt him; she was just scared.

  But scared or not, she should’ve asked him about his day, tried to sound like she cared. Because she did, so much. Keely took a sip of her wine and wondered what would happen if she stopped creating distance between her and Dare, if she allowed herself to enjoy his company, to enjoy this flirty, wonderful, exciting time.

  But what if she fell in love with him? What then?

  Maybe he’d catch her. Maybe she wouldn’t fall and smack her head. Maybe she wouldn’t feel like every bone in her body was broken. Maybe she’d be okay.

  Maybe…

  “You know what, you might be right.”

  At his sober words, Keely pushed her spine into the vinyl booth, every muscle in her body suddenly as tight as a newly erected barbwire fence. She kept her eyes on his somber face, on the disappointment in his eyes.

  “Maybe we should go back, but not to sex. Maybe we should go all the way back to when we were lawyer and client, casual acquaintances,” Dare said, his voice cool. Keely placed a hand over her heart, hoping she could stop her heart from ripping in two.

  “Dare…” She didn’t want that. She couldn’t bear it.

  “I’ve tried with you, Keely, done my damn best to show you we could be good together, that we could build something.” Dare stood up and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his jaw rock hard and his eyes narrowed. He had his courtroom face on, was wearing his don’t-mess-with-me look.