She heard him, but she just couldn’t absorb what he was saying. “You sent me letters every day?”
Cameron’s eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “Why are you saying this as if it were news?”
“Because it is.” She scrambled to her knees, forgetting about the plate in her lap, forgetting about everything except what he was saying. “I never received any letters, Cameron. Not even in reply to the ones I sent you.”
“You never wrote me.” The flat statement echoed back, mocking him. He’d gone to his mailbox every day, hoping, praying, only to turn away empty-handed.
“Oh, yes, I did,” she insisted fiercely. The momentum in her voice built as she spoke. “At first I wrote long letters, telling you how much I missed you, how lonely I was. And then I wrote shorter letters, but you didn’t answer those, either. And then I stopped, telling myself I was a fool and that you’d just turned your back on me like everyone else had.”
He stared at her. How could she believe that? Knowing how he’d felt about her, how could she even think he would give her up so easily? He’d almost gone out of his mind when he discovered that she had left town without a word to him.
“No one knew where to find you. Fitzhugh refused to tell anyone where your aunt had taken you. Even the house was handled by your damn lawyer.”
She knew all that. Her aunt had told her that part. “But what happened to your letters?”
Cameron made a guess. “Fitzhugh probably never sent them.”
“Or,” she said, struck by a realization, “Aunt Helen never gave them to me.”
That was more likely. And Aunt Helen must have taken the letters she wrote out of the mailbox before the postman could pick them up. A melancholy yearning filled Serena for the letters she had never had the opportunity of reading, or of slipping beneath her pillow and dreaming over.
Serena placed her hand on his arm. “What did they say?”
He couldn’t remember the way he’d worded any of them. He could only remember how he’d felt writing them. Lost. Empty.
“That I needed you. That I wanted you back. When you didn’t answer, I had some crazy idea of threatening Fitzhugh until he told me where you were, so I could go and bring you back myself.” He laughed at himself for actually thinking he could have gotten away with it, frightening an old man. “The chief talked me out of it.”
“Uncle Dan?” Uncle Dan was the only one, besides Fitzhugh and the court, who’d known where she went. Why hadn’t he sent word to her? Maybe he had, she realized, and Aunt Helen had gotten rid of that message, as well.
“Yeah, except he wasn’t the chief at the time. He found me lurking around Fitzhugh’s office late one evening and guessed what I was up to. Said he understood how I probably felt, but that violence never solved anything and that Fitzhugh had a trust he couldn’t break, no matter what. It almost sounded noble.” He shrugged self-consciously. “I guess I started thinking of becoming a cop that night. Had to do something with all that frustrated energy I had. Might as well have been something useful.”
Moved, Serena touched his cheek. Cameron turned her palm toward him and pressed a kiss in the center of it. He watched her fingers curl in reaction before he raised his eyes to her again.
“But I never forgot about you, no matter how much I tried, no matter how much I told myself that I could. I couldn’t. Even when I thought you’d decided to leave me behind with everything else.”
Her heart ached for what he’d gone through, for what, if she only had the courage to stand up to her aunt, she could have prevented.
“I never left you behind. You were always right here.” Serena covered her heart with her hand.
His eyes touching hers, Cameron bent his head and lightly kissed her hand. And then, as she slowly slipped her hand away, his lips touched her breast.
A jumble of emotions long suppressed shot through her, like sunbeams bouncing off a cache of jewels that had been buried and were now uncovered, exposed once more to the light. Heat surged along her body, not like a shy whisper, the way it had the first time, but like an explosion, encompassing all of her. Burning away the years.
But not the yearning.
She framed his face in her hands, drawing his mouth up to hers. The kiss was long and deep and so filled with unbridled passion it almost frightened her. Serena’s head spun.
Laughter and tears bubbled within her. Cameron hadn’t abandoned her, he hadn’t turned his back on her. He’d wanted her, despite what had happened, just as much as she had wanted him.
Her mouth slanted over and over on his, drugging him, empowering him. Cameron caught her hands, pulling them from him as he moved his head back. His breathing was almost ragged.
“Serena, don’t.” She stared at him, dazed, confused. Hurt. He couldn’t stand for her to look like that. He hurried to explain. “When you kiss me like that, I don’t think I can hold back.”
Didn’t think? Hell, he knew he couldn’t.
“Then don’t,” she counseled, her whisper hot along his lips. “Don’t hold back. Make love with me, Cameron.” No siren in mythology could ever have sounded more seductive. “Make love with me for all the years we’ve lost.”
The grin on his face was foolish, mingling with disbelief, joy and humor. It probably bordered on being silly. He didn’t care.
“You never did ask for much.” Caressing her face, he brushed back the hair that had tumbled into her eyes. He was afraid, afraid of having this ripped away from him just as he began to believe. “Are you sure, Serena? Are you really sure?”
She’d never been more sure of anything. “I’ll sign a sworn statement afterward, if you want.” Anticipation began a zigzag pattern through her, touching all points and rendering them active. “But if you don’t take me now, I’m going to be guilty of assaulting an officer of the law.”
“Can’t have that.” His hands on her arms, he drew her to him.
Trying to restrain the greediness that suddenly soared through his body, Cameron nipped at her lower lip, running his tongue over it. Her groan passed from her mouth to his, echoing in his brain, making his blood run so hot, he thought it was going to burn right through his veins. Right through his loins.
He had to touch her, touch her everywhere, to assure himself that this was not just another cruel dream he was having. A vision in which Serena came to him in the night, only to disappear into the shadows when he moved to take her.
It was an immense struggle not to run with the feeling, not to give in to the demands ramming his body and take her instantly. But that would satisfy only the lust, not the love. For that demanded that he take her slowly, with tenderness and reverence.
He was almost trembling inside as his hands slid underneath the skimpy top she wore.
She felt so small, so fragile, he thought as he spanned her waist. He felt clumsy, heavy-handed, as he inched his fingers up her sides. And then, after an eternity, he finally cupped her breasts, drawing her bra lower and rubbing his thumbs slowly along the hardening nipples.
The sigh he heard might have belonged to her, or to him, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything, except that he’d been touched by magic and she was here with him tonight. In his arms. The way she’d always been in his blood.
Her heart hammering hard, Serena arched against the feel of his hands, wanting—no, needing—to absorb the warmth of his flesh, greedy for more. His hands felt rough, and yet gentle, as they possessed her.
More. She wanted more.
Even now, she began to move, to sway her hips in a seductive mating dance that she had no idea drove him crazy. All she knew was the anticipation tugging at her inner core, melting her.
Pushing her shirt up over her head, Cameron discarded it. The look in his eyes excited her, making her feel beautiful.
Wanted.
Still watching her, he lowered the straps of her bra down her arms, one at a time, sending shivers racing along her spine. And desire racing along his.
Her breat
h was growing shorter, her desire increasingly more urgent. It pulsed and throbbed as it begged for release.
“You’re too slow,” she breathed, reaching behind her to unhook her bra.
He almost swallowed his tongue as the lace and cotton slipped completely from her breasts, revealing skin the color of dawn.
“Methodical,” he corrected, with effort. “A good cop is always methodical. Otherwise, he might miss something. And I don’t want to miss anything.” Not a single moment.
Unable to endure even the smallest distance between them, Cameron pulled her onto his lap, burying his head against the soft, tender skin she’d exposed. He worshiped her with his mouth, covering the quivering flesh with a chain of kisses. His tongue darted here and there, like the points of an arrow, piercing her. Branding her.
Each sharp intake of breath she took only quickened his pulse, quickened his needs.
She squirmed and arched. And gloried. “Is this what’s called paying lip service?” she managed to get out.
“No.” Cameron pushed her gently back on the floor, then framed her body with his own. Heat met heat, singeing them both. “This is.”
He covered Serena’s mouth with his, kissing her over and over again. Each time, the kiss was deeper, more ardent, than the last, until she felt as if her senses were drowning, as if she were completely drowning in him.
Her stomach muscles contracted, quivering, as she felt his fingers undo the snap at her shorts, then push the material slowly down the length of her legs. Each brush of his hand just intensified the burning sensation that ran through her.
Instead of removing her underwear, he delved beneath with his hand, stroking her flat belly, dipping lower and possessing her with each deft pass. Cupping her buttocks, he pressed her to him.
He could feel the greed beginning to sap his strength, his tenacious hold on control. He wanted her, all of her, wanted to lose himself inside her the way he never could with any other woman. The way he knew he never would be able to with any other woman.
Yet, somehow, he still managed to offer her the ultimate sacrifice.
“Last chance,” he breathed.
His words came to her through a blazing, disorienting haze. “Of what?”
“Of saying no.” Every fiber of his being prayed she wouldn’t.
“Last chance?” she echoed. Serena moved against him, rubbed seductively, her body hot and inviting. As if anything could persuade her to allow him to get away now. “Fat chance,” she corrected. Serena began to tug at his shirt, pulling it free of his trousers. “My mother wanted people to be formal, but I don’t. Not you, not now.”
The buttons were almost torn off as she fought to restrain her impatience and struggled to free him of this barrier.
He could have eaten her alive, he thought. She warmed him so. Aroused him so.
Pushing her fumbling hands away, he undid the rest of the buttons quickly, shucking his shirt. Socks, shoes and trousers quickly followed, all scattered like inconsequential leaves in an autumn storm. He hooked his thumb on the elastic band of his briefs, but she beat him to it, tugging them off herself. Her eyes were shining as she tossed the briefs behind her.
His desire multiplied tenfold. He wanted to feel her flesh against his, feel every inch of her giving herself to him. Just as he gave himself to her. Without reservations.
Serena felt him, hard and demanding, as he leaned against her, pulling at the last scrap of her underwear. They ripped. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but them. But him.
“Now,” she whispered urgently, growing moist, growing mad.
“Not yet. Not yet.” It was a promise.
It was torture.
With a reserve of restraint he hadn’t known he possessed, he played his hands over her, marking a path first with his fingers, then with his tongue, as each anointed her in turn, devouring what she offered, worshiping what he found.
She remembered the first time, cherished the first time, but it began to fade in the heat of the moment, in what was happening to her now. He was setting her on fire, as surely as if he’d touched her flesh with a flaming match.
Her body slick with sweat and desire, she could only offer, only receive. And in so doing, she imprisoned him forever.
He wanted to do more, to love her longer, to stay, as some poet had once said, and spend a decade in worship of every part of her.
But he was only human, only so strong. And the way she twisted and arched and called to him with her body, his control was swiftly melting away to nothing.
Balancing himself over her, Cameron joined his hands to hers. He watched her face, saw her eyes in a haze, as he entered her, losing himself where he’d ached to be for so very long.
The rhythm, dormant for so long, returned to them instantly, taking hold and driving them until the destination was reached.
Until their souls met again, in a starburst of needs and desires. And of love that remained unspoken.
Chapter 11
Contentment swirled through him, leaving no part untouched. Exhausted, Cameron still felt he could easily leap tall buildings in a single bound and bend steel in his bare hands.
He wondered if a person could die from too much happiness. He figured he qualified as a test case.
Cameron felt Serena shifting beneath him. With effort, he rolled over to the side. Had he hurt her, he wondered, reaching for a lock of her hair and sifting it through his fingers. He’d tried to be gentle, but toward the end, it hadn’t been humanly possible any longer to hold himself in check. He’d been completely in the grip of what was happening, both an observer and a participant.
It was as close to an out-of-body experience as he was ever going to have, he guessed.
Cameron glanced just above Serena’s head. The pizza boxes were still there, as was the bottle of wine. Both were almost untouched. He’d gotten his sustenance in other ways, but that was supposed to have been her dinner.
“Pizza’s cold,” he told her.
There were sunbeams dancing all through her. Smiling sunbeams, like the happy faces that turned up on T-shirts and stationery. Food seemed of little consequence in comparison. “I like it cold.”
“Wine’s warm.” That was what her lips tasted like, he suddenly thought. Like wine warmed in a glass held between two hands.
“I like it warm.” Serena sighed, contentment radiating through her like the scent of a huge bouquet of roses. Propping herself up on one elbow, she feathered her fingers lightly along his chest. Even relaxed, his muscles were hard. “And most of all, I like this feeling.”
She’d drained him, completely drained him. It was an effort even to smile at her. Somehow, he managed. “Good, we’re finally in agreement about something. Give me a while and I’ll see what I can do to perpetuate that feeling.”
Resting her thumb lightly on the indentation created by his navel, Serena continued to skim his skin with her fingertips, just lightly enough to quicken his flesh. Quicken his desire.
“A little while?”
What was she doing to him? “Fifteen, twenty minutes.” His eyes were lowered, watching her hand, mesmerized. Each pass had something tightening in his gut, until it was almost impossible for him to breathe. “Not much time, really, in the general scheme of things.”
Her smile was languid, seductive, as she gloried in this newfound power she’d discovered. She was affecting him just as much, just as deeply, as he had affected her. It was a heady realization.
Her fingers dipped lower, arousing him. Touching him. The light touches turned to even lighter strokes. “Think it’ll really take that long?”
“Well...I... Ah, Serena?” He stifled a shiver as desire seared down his back, then exploded in his loins. The fire was taking hold all over again. “Where did you learn to do that?”
There had been no lovers after him. No one who could coax her from her self-imposed exile enough to want to share his bed even for a night. She’d thought herself completely dead inside. She was relieved
to know she wasn’t.
“Nowhere.” Her smile grew smaller, more mysterious. The seduction was complete. “Instinct.” And then innocence and sincerity joined and mixed together on her face. “Being with you like this just seems to draw it out of me.”
She would never know how relieved he was to hear that, to know that some clever lover hadn’t schooled her in the ways to make a man beg for mercy. Or just simply beg.
Raising himself up on his elbow, Cameron cupped the back of her head and brought her face closer to his. The ache had returned, consuming him all over again. He wondered if there was an antidote for this. He sincerely hoped not.
“Maybe I don’t need as much time as I think,” he told her as he brought his lips to hers.
“Maybe,” she agreed, her breath playing upon his skin, feeding his desire.
Cameron proceeded to prove them both right.
She wanted to hold on to it. With both hands Serena desperately wanted to hang on to the euphoric feeling that had rushed to take possession of her body, of her soul, last night. It had left such overwhelming optimism in its wake. For the first time in years, she’d been happy, truly happy. It had been so long, she’d thought she’d forgotten how.
But as daylight nudged its way into her bedroom, it also nudged aside the blissful anesthetic that last night had brought. Reality moved in like a low-lying fog along the moors.
Last night had felt like a homecoming. It was as if nothing had changed between them, except, perhaps, to become even better.
In the morning light, she knew that had been an illusion. Things had changed for each of them. Changed a great deal. She wasn’t the person she’d been eleven years ago. Neither was Cameron.
It was foolish to hope that the dreams spun by an eighteen-year-old girl could be lived by a woman who was only a year away from being thirty. Too much time had been spent apart, too many things had happened to both of them.
Serena Mckee's Back In Town Page 13