“Is that why you don’t have relationships?” Kayla asked suddenly. “Because of your mother?”
The question caught him off guard, and hit much too close to home. “I thought you said you were a vet, not a head doctor.”
She shrugged. “In a small town, you get to stretch beyond your boundaries, be a little of everything.”
“I don’t belong in this town,” he reminded her. Which negated her right to analyze him.
Kayla didn’t back away. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” She made it sound like a life sentence. He took it a step further. “You mentioned Brigadoon. If I’m here past midnight, does that mean I have to stay for the next hundred years?”
“Maybe you hit your head harder than I thought,” she said. Getting up, she rounded the table and went through the motions of looking for a bump on his head. “You’ve already stayed here over night,” she pointed out. “In fact, you’re going on three.”
She was standing so close to him, Alain could feel the heat coming from her body. Could feel the urges being aroused in his own.
All he had to do, he thought, was reach up and pull her down to his lap.
And kiss her. He wanted to kiss her in the worst way, he finally admitted to himself. And something told him that if he did, she’d be receptive. But if he kissed Kayla, it would mean something to her. He doubted if he was ready for that. If he’d ever be ready for that.
But he still wanted to kiss her.
“Just a joke,” he told her, turning his head to look at her. Brushing his arm against her leg.
“Oh.” Kayla inhaled sharply when his eyes touched hers. She shouldn’t have put that bottle of wine out, she told herself. Or she shouldn’t have had any of it. Wine always did things to her. Made her vulnerable as well as exceedingly fluid. She felt as if she could easily melt into his hands if he touched her.
Then why aren’t you backing away? Why are you just standing here, waiting for him to reach for you? Rousing herself, Kayla took a step back. Or tried to. It felt as if she were trying to walk through glue.
And then he did it. Hands bracketing her hips, Alain drew her onto his lap.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she warned. When he looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate, she told him, “You could hurt yourself.”
He laughed. “You don’t weigh that much.”
“I wasn’t thinking about weight,” she replied. “A man in heat doesn’t always think straight, and you do have cracked ribs.”
He slowly ran his thumb along her lower lip. A thrill of anticipation ran through him, leaving no part untouched. He felt as if his whole body had suddenly gone on alert. “It’s a kiss, Kayla,” he whispered softly, “just a kiss, nothing more.”
Her breath was already caught in her throat. “You never know how these things will turn out,” she stated, barely aware that the words were leaving her lips.
Get off his lap, something inside her cried. Now. Before it’s too late.
But it was already too late.
Chapter 8
It was too late, because his lips had found and captured hers.
Too late, because her body was already melting into a sizzling puddle. Too late, because she was responding. Responding to him, to the kiss, with such intensity that had she had any breath to spare, it would have been sucked away immediately.
As it was, she was swiftly becoming light-headed even as she felt her pulse racing faster than the lead car at the Indianapolis 500.
She could no longer remember when she’d last been kissed by a man, or kissed one back.
She was kissing back now.
It was as if every single logical process that went on in her mind had suddenly opted to take a holiday.
She was melting faster than a handful of snow in the month of July.
Kayla wrapped her arms around Alain’s neck and lost her way.
Lost herself in the heat, in the anticipation. In the excitement that leaped through her veins.
Damn, but he was a good kisser. The best she’d ever had by a long shot. She found herself grateful to Brett and his mean streak. Had he not had one, she would have never found herself here, going up in smoke and thrilled about it. She would have gone on thinking that Brett was as good as it got.
She would have been so wrong. Alain deepened the kiss, amazed at the sensations he was feeling. He wasn’t drunk— it took far more than two glasses of wine for that to happen—but he certainly felt drunk. And drugged. And wildly aroused.
This feisty little vet with the soft lips made his heart race and the air in his lungs all but disappear.
Trying to get his bearings, he cupped her face in his hands and gently drew back so that he could look at her.
His eyes caressed her. “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” he murmured. “Not even in Oz,” she whispered back, surprised that her lips worked. She’d been fairly certain they’d been singed off.
Alain fought the very real, very strong temptation to go on kissing her. His palms itched and he wanted nothing more than to touch her, to trace the outline of her body with his fingertips and memorize each curve, each contour.
Hell, he wanted everything. Wanted to make love with her until he was too numb to move. She was turning him inside out and he was willingly allowing it to happen.
Alain drew in a long, deep breath. “We seem to have a new development here.” His mouth suddenly felt so dry, he might have been gargling with sand. She didn’t want to hear about it, didn’t want to hear about logic, or pause to weigh and measure consequences. Didn’t want to think at all. She just wanted this to continue to its rightful conclusion. Otherwise, she was going to burn up in frustration.
“Stop being a lawyer,” she told him, her voice low and husky. Before Alain could reply, she was kissing him again, slanting her mouth against his over and over to prevent the parade of words from escaping. Kayla wasn’t interested in his philosophies or his ability to reason things out. Wasn’t interested in his legal mind or his rhetoric. What she was interested in was having the wild rush in her veins continue. She wanted him to kiss the hollow of her neck and make her crazy with desire.
Okay, crazier.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She felt rather than heard his response, felt his smile ripple against her skin as he pressed his lips to her throat. She moaned and gave herself up wholeheartedly to the feeling. Somewhere during the heated, moist tangle of tongues, lips and teeth, Alain slowly rose to his feet. In sync with him, Kayla slid off his lap and planted her feet on the floor. Arms still entwined around his neck, she pressed herself against him.
She sucked in her breath and reveled in his hard, firm body. Her very core felt as if it were on fire. It took everything she had not to just leap up into his arms and wrap her legs around his waist. But in Alain’s bruised condition, that could only hurt him.
Yet it was oh so hard to be reasonable when she burned like this. Kayla didn’t know which of them started the process first—whether she began tugging his clothes off or he hers. All she knew was that clothing began piling up on the floor beside the table as items were stripped off, one by one.
With each, her body temperature went up a degree, until she felt utterly fevered. And nude.
And then momentarily airborne. Alain caught her up in his arms and lifted her onto the table.
“Your ribs,” she protested. She didn’t want him reinjuring himself.
Ever so gently, he pushed her down on the table. The main course for his feast. “You taped them up damn well,” he told her, just before he began to conduct a complete inventory of her body. He covered every single inch first with his hands, then his lips.
She twisted beneath him, absorbing every touch, aching for more. Kayla could feel the scream of pleasure bubbling up in her throat, and pressed her lips together as hard as she could. Any sudden cry from her could be misconstrued and instantly bring at least six dogs to her rescue, if not Ginger, too. They were very protective of
her. She was taking no chances on Alain getting hurt—or the delicious assault on her body being halted.
Climaxes were rocking her, one exquisitely flowering into another as she arched against his mouth. But even as her head swam and she craved more, her sense of fair play broke through. It didn’t seem right for this to be so one-sided.
Drawing on a great deal of strength, she raised her head to look at him. “What about you?” she panted.
Busy tracing a warm, moist trail between her thighs, Alain glanced up at her. She’d never seen a more sensually wicked look than the one on his face.
“I’m doing fine,” he assured her. As he spoke, his breath brushed against her skin, all but driving her to the brink of distraction.
Another climax exploded within her.
She was swiftly losing the last shred of rationality and didn’t want that to happen until they came together. With superhuman effort, Kayla pushed herself up to a sitting position and then slid off the table. Before he could ask if she’d changed her mind, she wrapped her fingers possessively around his and tugged him down to the floor.
“I want you,” she murmured thickly. It was all he needed to hear. All he wanted to hear. The next moment, they were lost in each other’s arms as he kissed her again. Kissed her as if he’d never done it before.
Kissed her until she felt her very soul leaping for joy. And then, her back flat against the floor, his mouth sealed to hers, he entered her. They were joined, becoming one, instantly moving to a shared rhythm that they both felt beating within their chests.
They climbed together, faster and faster, until suddenly streamers of starlight burst over them. Gripped by a feeling of euphoria, Kayla hung on to the afterglow as long as she could. Then he was pivoting his weight onto his elbows as he looked down into her face.
He was smiling.
“Something funny?” Her effort not to sound breathless was a failure. She wasn’t expecting the answer that he gave her. “Life,” Alain told her. “If I’d paid for Halliday’s valet to come down to L.A. to give his deposition, instead of driving to him, I’d never been caught in this storm, never wrecked my BMW.” His fingers feathered along her cheek, moving a strand of hair away so that he could look at her unobstructed. She thought he was lamenting the events he was citing, until he added, “And I would have never been saved by you.”
The way he said it made it seem as if he was talking about more than just her dragging him from the vehicle.
She was reading too much into it, Kayla decided. It was all just wishful thinking on her part, nothing more. Everyone knew that fantastic lovers did not make faithful lovers. It was a law written somewhere.
The next moment, his body still pressed to hers, Alain jerked and stiffened.
Her eyes widened. “What’s the matter?” He laughed and then pointed behind him. Taylor was standing there, looming very close to his posterior. “I’ve just been goosed. I think he’s jealous.” And then he looked at her, his expression growing serious. “I think maybe we should take this to your bedroom.”
“You want to do it again?”
Alain couldn’t tell by her expression if his suggestion appalled her. Until this second, he’d thought that the pleasure was mutual. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” “Bad?” Is that what he thought? She was quick to set him straight. “No. Oh, God, no. It’s just that…” How could she put this without sounding as if she slept around? “I thought men could only do it once a night.”
His smile was amused, and somehow still managed to seem incredibly intimate to her. “Lady, you’ve had the wrong lovers.” Lovers. Did he think she had sex casually? Well, what else would he think? They hadn’t exactly known each other from the first grade, had they? He hadn’t been in her life three days, and here they were, making love. So what did that make her?
Incredibly glad, a small voice whispered in her head. When Alain extended his hand, she wrapped her fingers around it and allowed him to help her to her feet. Her knees didn’t quite feel solid at the moment.
They made love two more times. Each time felt as exquisite as the last. After the third time, Kayla wasn’t sure if she could move anymore, not even if someone set fire to the house. And then Alain surprised her again by gathering her into his arms. He didn’t turn from her and just go to sleep, the way Brett had. The way she assumed most men did. Alain was actually holding her.
Oh, God, was he real? Or was she just dreaming?
“A penny for your thoughts,” he said, noting the dazed expression on her face.
Busted. Kayla raised one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m just wondering why you’re not being stalked.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. “What?” “Well,” she began slowly, trying not to come off as a mindless idiot, “I’m assuming I’m not the first woman you’ve ever made love to. And given the insensitive lovers out there, someone like you would be quite a catch for any woman.”
Did she have any idea how adorable she was? He smiled at her, his eyes softly caressing her face. “Maybe I was just inspired this time.”
A content sigh escaped her before she could stop it. She knew he was probably just feeding her a line, but she pretended that he was telling her the truth. So rather than go on talking, she nestled against him, taking comfort in the beat of his heart against her cheek. Indulging in a fantasy that this was going to go somewhere, beyond tonight.
And then, as her eyes began to drift shut, she suddenly found herself assaulted by a wave of lights, accompanied by a battalion of sounds as everything within her bedroom and the rooms beyond came to life. Every appliance, every light fixture, the TV, the radio, everything she’d turned on when the power had gone out, hoping to find a spark of electricity, came on at the same moment, generating a swirling tornado of light and noise.
Startled, she bolted upright. Alain was right beside her, as surprised as she was. “And then there was light,” he said, looking around. His gaze returned to Kayla, who was sitting up, nude to the waist. His smile grew sensual as he reached for her. “This time,” he said to her, “I get to see what I’m doing.”
But just as he leaned in to kiss her, the phone on the nightstand began to ring.
His face an inch away from hers, Alain’s eyes widened as the sound registered. “The phone.” He looked up at it. “Your phone’s ringing.”
She knew what he was thinking. Phone service had been restored along with the power. That meant he could call someone to come get him.
And take him from her.
She knew that was inevitable; she just hadn’t thought it would happen tonight. A huge wave of disappointment washed over her. “So it is.” Resigned, Kayla turned away from him and reached for the phone. She brought the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”
“Kayla, where’ve you been? I’ve been calling your number for over a day and no one’s been answering.” The deep male voice on the other end of the line was loud enough for Alain to make out.
It was Jack Brown, one of the volunteers she occasionally worked with at the rescue center. She struggled to focus.
“We had a power failure here,” she told him. They didn’t socialize, so this had to be about dogs. “Is something wrong?” “Yes, something’s wrong,” he told her, although his voice no longer sounded as upset as it had. “I have a couple of shepherds in the Riverside shelter that aren’t going to live out the week unless someone comes to claim them.”
It was a familiar story. She’d traveled up and down the length of Southern California and beyond, going to the city shelters and rescuing German shepherds marked for extermination. At times, it felt like a never-ending battle.
Nodding as Jack gave her a few more details, she interrupted and asked for the address, just to be sure she had the right shelter. “All right, tell them I’m coming. I’ll be there as soon as I can manage. Probably around noon tomorrow. Thanks for calling.”
Business as usual, Kayla thought, hanging up. Then, picking up
the phone, she shifted in the bed and offered it to Alain. She tried to sound cheerful as she said, “Your turn.”
But he didn’t take it from her. Instead, he asked, “Who was that? Someone needing a vet?” She shook her head. “Someone needing an angel of mercy,” she corrected. That was the way they saw themselves, the members of the rescue team. Angels of mercy for a constant stream of furry orphans. “Two German shepherds were located at a Riverside shelter—they’re usually euthanized within two weeks after arriving at one of the city shelters. There are just too many stray and abandoned dogs out there to keep them all alive.”
That was the excuse, but he could see how much the reality of it bothered her.
“And you’re riding to the rescue?” He assumed that from her end of the conversation.
A self-depreciating smile played on her lips. “It’s what I do.” Nodding, Alain glanced at his watch. It was a little after 10:00 p.m. Not late by his standards, but he knew that Philippe liked to get to bed early so he didn’t drag the next day. His eldest brother had always been an early riser, unlike Georges. And him.
Making up his mind, Alain shook his head and gently pushed away the phone that Kayla was holding out to him. “It’ll keep until morning,” he assured her. He watched as she struggled with the sheet she’d wrapped around her breasts, replacing the phone on the nightstand. When she turned back to him, he grinned at her. “Now, where were we?”
“Again?” she asked incredulously. The man was absolutely incredible, she thought.
“Unless you’re too tired,” he qualified. His thoughtfulness touched her. Most men wouldn’t have worried about whether she was as keen on another go-around as they were. But making love with him had taken on a new urgency for her. This would be the last time, she realized. Tomorrow, he would make his call to his brothers or a friend, and once they came for him, he would be out of her life within a matter of hours, if not less.
[The Sons of Lily Moreau 03] - Capturing the Millionaire Page 8