Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VI

by Tori Carrington

  Daphne easily took it, wondering if any other man could wear a tuxedo as well.

  Moments later, as they descended the curving, marble staircase to the ballroom-size foyer, and she immediately met the gaze of the man who had started a fateful ball rolling, she knew that there was…

  * * *

  KIERAN NEARLY CHOKED on his drink.

  The last place he would have expected to see the knockout redhead was walking down the stairs of this house. Actually, the last place he would have expected to see her was walking down any stairs at all… .

  He absently wiped the back of his hand against his mouth as his gaze glided down her long, long legs to where very real feet were clad in very sexy sandals.

  “Sir?”

  A waiter was holding out a linen napkin to him. He accepted it, glancing down to where he’d spilled a bit of his drink on the front of his tux, then thanked the man, blotting at the dampness.

  He’d be lucky if that’s the only damage he walked away with tonight.

  The waiter accepted the napkin and took his drink, promising to be back with another.

  And to think, he’d nearly tossed the longstanding invitation to this charitable event away this morning when his house manager had placed it in his inbox. While keeping the naturalists pacified, if not happy, had been part of his job before, the only items on his agenda was preparing himself for his parents arrival in the morning…and continuing his search for the striking beauty he’d found on his boat, the one everyone was trying to tell him didn’t exist outside his imagination.

  Now here she was…

  And she seemed as surprised to see him as he was to see her…

  It took every ounce of self-control he had to stop himself from going straight to her, demanding to know who she was and what she had been doing on his boat…and swirling in his mind like a sexy fog, driving him to distraction.

  Then again, he wasn’t all that convinced he could have moved had he tried. His feet seemed to have sprouted roots, fixing him to the spot as surely as time-strengthened vines.

  Who was she? It was safe to say she was connected in some way to their hosts, the Moores. He’d known Patrick Moore for years, through the charity he and his wife headed, which was what tonight’s event was about.

  But her…?

  He watched as she greeted the line waiting at the bottom of the staircase along with the Moores, her rich hair catching the light, her smile flashing, her eyes seeking him out with every other word she spoke.

  Was she remembering their kiss? Had she experienced the same white-hot flash of heat he had? Had she thought about him with a single-minded obsession since she disappeared from the deck of his sailboat?

  The waiter brought him another drink. He took his hand from his pocket where he rolled the pearl between his finger and accepted it, only to place it on a nearby coaster on a table as he cut a path toward her.

  He had to confirm she was real, that she wasn’t another figment of his imagination.

  He had to know if she was the one person who could save his life more than in a literal sense…

  She gasped when he lightly touched her bare shoulder, turning toward him as one might a predator.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to startle you… .”

  Though he’d withdrawn his hand, his fingers tingled from the brief contact, as if he’d come in contact with an electrical source. And her reaction told him she’d been just as affected by the contact, though his fingers had barely grazed her skin.

  “Daphne?” asked the woman he guessed was Moore’s wife, openly looking at him. “Everything all right?”

  The redhead didn’t appear to hear at first. He guessed she was just as incapable of speech as he was.

  He saw so much there, in her eyes. Answers to questions he hadn’t voiced. Questions to answers not yet given.

  Desire, pure and powerful and all-consuming.

  Finally, she said, “Yes, yes, Mother. Everything’s…fine.”

  Kieran barely registered her name and the connection. He was mesmerized by the pink in her cheeks and the bowing of her lips.

  “May I speak with you?” he asked.

  He didn’t miss her deep swallow as she considered his question.

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  He felt the faintest tinge of amusement. She knew very well who he was. Just as he knew who she was, with or without fins.

  “Oh, yes, I’d say you do.” He took her hand in his, feeling that same electric shock. “But officially, my name is Kieran. Kieran Morrison.” He covered her hand with his other. “And you’re Daphne.”

  “Kieran,” Patrick Moore said, spotting him. “I’m glad you could make it.”

  He was forced to release Daphne’s hand in order to shake her father’s.

  “I see you’ve met my daughter,” Patrick said. “And my wife—”

  “I haven’t had the honor,” Daphne’s mother said, standing on Daphne’s other side as if protecting her. “Cecelia Moore.”

  “Kieran here owns Morrison and Dunlop.”

  “Co-owns,” he corrected.

  Daphne’s brows rose as she absorbed the information. He gathered she didn’t miss the irony of his being a fisherman. Or, rather, co-owner of a fishing company.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Moore—”

  “Cecelia, please.”

  “Very well then, Cecelia. You won’t mind if I borrow your daughter for just a moment, will you?”

  Was it him, or did Cecelia look to Daphne as if for reassurance it was okay with her?

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Patrick said. “I hear the orchestra has started, which means I’m expected to officially welcome everyone. Please, Kieran, make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you,” he said, hoping it was loud enough to be heard, but feeling oddly like he’d whispered. The moment he spotted her on the steps, the world had begun slowly drifting away in a blinding white light, and she was the only spot of color.

  “Dance with me?” he asked.

  4

  JUST ONCE…

  She wanted to feel his touch just one time…

  That was the solitary thought that flowed through Daphne’s mind when she found herself at Kieran’s San Clemente house an hour later, standing on his large, private balcony that boasted a spectacular, moonlit view of the Pacific in the distance, but was too far away to smell.

  He, on the other hand, filled her senses more powerfully than the sea.

  “God, you’re so beautiful… .”

  The words might have sounded insincere coming from anyone else, but when combined with the urgency in his voice, and the restlessness of his touch, they ranked among the most honest she’d ever heard.

  He made her feel beautiful. Something she’d never experienced.

  She’d known this was where they’d end up the moment she’d agreed to dance with him. She’d known that once she felt his hand discreetly brush against her lower back, pressing her against him, that she’d want more.

  She’d known when she’d opened her eyes to find him kissing her the morning before, she’d be unable to turn away from the connection that had formed between them in that instant…fused them together in a way she had yet to completely understand.

  So when he’d whispered that he wanted to be alone with her, she hadn’t hesitated.

  There was no time for games. No need to worry about appearing loose or easy. This was about sheer surrender. A onetime thing she hoped to take with her after her final dedication to the sea, something to cherish to the end of her days.

  He brushed his lips against her temple as soft jazz drifted through the open French doors. Her eyes drifted closed, and her pulse thrummed, immersing her fully in the moment.

  She’d wanted him from afar for so long she’d never dared dream she’d be standing this close to him. And now that she was, she refused to succumb to doubt or worry.

  She’d sensed his presence in her parents’ fo
yer before visually spotting him. Just as she had always known when he had his schooner out. She felt…bound to him in a way she’d never experience with anyone else save her parents. And while she could, she intended to explore this connection as far as she dared.

  “I’m so afraid that if I let go of you, you’ll disappear again,” he whispered into her hair.

  She tilted her chin into her chest and smiled, then raised her head to stare into his dark eyes.

  “I’m not going anywhere… .”

  “Promise?”

  She nodded slightly. “Promise.”

  “Not even if I ask why you left me yesterday morning?”

  * * *

  IT WAS A DREAM standing there, holding her in his arms, gently swaying to a song he couldn’t really hear. Not that he needed to hear it. His heart beat a rhythm he couldn’t help but move to.

  Move closer to her…

  He wasn’t sure why he’d asked what he had. He told himself what had transpired yesterday would be better left unmentioned. But before he could stop himself, he was saying the words…and needing to hear the response.

  Problem was, he was afraid he wasn’t going to get one.

  She held his gaze, her kissable lips tilted upward in a small smile, but she remained silent. He supposed he should be glad she wasn’t denying the encounter. Or that she wasn’t retracting her promise to stay.

  God, was she truly there?

  He inhaled, taking in the scent of gardenias and the sea. He wanted to kiss her so badly, he physically ached. But somehow, just knowing he would was enough for now. He held her, swayed with her, feeling need surge through his bloodstream like a strong drink.

  If you’d have asked him a week ago what he’d be doing tonight, the last thing he would have said was entertaining a beautiful woman in his house. Especially after his divorce…

  He closed his eyes and drew her closer. He wasn’t going to think about that now, didn’t want to taint such beauty with ugliness.

  Besides, this…whatever it was…transcended all.

  Within a blink of her lovely eyes, she’d brought a full color pallet to his drab life, erasing all black and white and leaving only vividness behind.

  “I looked for you,” he whispered.

  “I know.”

  He smiled, drawing her hand so that it rested against his chest between them. “What I saw… You…”

  “Shh…” She drew back, holding his gaze.

  “But…”

  Then she did what surely guaranteed his silence: she leaned in to press her lips delicately against his… .

  It was no more than a whisper, a light breeze blown over damp skin. But the impact was more powerful than the storm that had thrown his sailboat around like a toy and tossed him overboard. Pure need engulfed him as thoroughly as seawater, denying him breath and the ability to think beyond the desire to taste her again.

  He flattened her hand against his chest then raised his fingers to her neck, lightly trailing the tips along the length, then back again as he leaned in for something a little more substantial.

  Her eyes watched as he bent first one way, then the other, brushing his lips against hers before meeting them more fully.

  She sighed, threading her arms under his and grasping his shoulders.

  Whatever control he was hoping to wield fled with the last notes of the song on the wind and the feel of her body flush against his. He cupped the back of her neck and drew her closer still, drinking deeply of her damp mouth, unsure if it was her quickening of breath he heard or his own.

  She was all sweet, hot woman to his hard, wanting man. In that moment, he knew she could ask anything of him, and he’d give it. It was a hell of a place for him to be, considering all he’d been through. But that’s what made it all the more magical…

  He slid his hands down to her hips, grasping them through the light fabric of her dress, feeling her shiver as he pressed his hardness against her softness. She gasped. He groaned and deepened their kiss.

  Knowing she wanted him as bad as he wanted her was the most powerful aphrodisiac of all.

  He drew his right hand along her bare shoulder, cupping her breast through her dress, finding the tip hard. He lightly pinched it, his mouth watering with the desire to kiss it. He reached behind her, found her zipper and then slowly tugged until the material of the front bowed outward. She caught it almost shyly, holding it against her.

  So enchanting…

  He took her hand in his and turned it over, pressing his lips to the middle of her palm, then moved it to her side, allowing him free access to the nipple even now pouting at him in the pale moonlight.

  He’d seen her breasts the other morning, after the storm. He knew they were perfectly round, beautifully tipped. He hadn’t dared try to touch them then. But now…

  He rasped the pad of his thumb over the stiff flesh, then cupped her so he could lean down to run his tongue over the hard, puckered surface.

  She moaned deep in her throat, leaning more heavily against him, her hands going to his shoulders as if afraid she might fall without him to steady her. He slid his other arm around her, as much to reassure her he wouldn’t allow her to slip, as well as to keep her close.

  He licked her leisurely, moving to her other breast before he pulled her nipple deep into his mouth, sucking hungrily.

  She moved restlessly against him, her fingers entwining in his hair as if caught between wanting to pull him closer and push him away.

  Holding her with his mouth, he moved his free hand down, finding the side slit in her dress and sliding his fingers inward toward the top of her inner thighs. The crotch of her panties was drenched with want.

  He groaned. “Oh, God, you’re so wet… .”

  She pulled his head up and kissed him deeply, thrusting her hips forward. It was an unspoken cry he was only too willing to answer.

  He dipped his fingertip inside the edge of her panties, finding her perfectly bare and softer than anyone had a right to be. He worked his thumb inside the delicate fabric and then followed an invisible line down, delving the thick digit into her slick channel.

  Her moan was anything but quiet as she collapsed against him, relying on him to hold her up. Her breathing came in quick, uncontrolled gasps as he rotated his thumb and thrust it deeply inside her, pressing on the back wall of her vagina. She bore down against him, pressing her clit against his wrist while he moved.

  “Come for me, sweet Daphne,” he whispered.

  When she cried out a moment later, he knew she had… .

  * * *

  DAPHNE HAD BEEN touched before, but never this powerfully… .

  She felt as substantial as the water she loved, flowing, rippling, completely at the mercy of currents beyond her control.

  She rested her forehead against Kieran’s shoulder, trying to catch her breath, attempting to process what had just happened, straining to hear the faint warning bell that sounded in the back of her mind… .

  She couldn’t be sure what the bell heralded, but knew a pang of fear all the same.

  “I want you…” Kieran whispered into her ear before sweeping her up into his arms.

  She made a soft sound before cuddling closer to him.

  She was barely aware of anything outside the feel of his arms around her as he took her inside the house. Within moments, they were in what she guessed was his bedroom, which faced the same balcony on which they’d been standing a short time before. Moonlight bathed the bed in a warm, yellow glow as he put her on her feet then kissed her deeply. She cradled his handsome face in her hands even as he freed her of her dress then worked to take off his tux.

  Soon nothing separated them but air… .

  He groaned as he looked at her. “So, so beautiful.”

  He picked her up again to lay her on the bed, then stretched out beside her. She felt his hard length against her hip and instinctively reached out, encircling her fingers around him. So thick…so warm…

  He kissed her deepl
y then stilled her hand with one of his own before working his knee between hers and then moving to lie on top of her, nudging her thighs farther apart.

  He leaned back, gazing at her. She smiled softly and raised her head to kiss him again. Then she guided him to her, tilting her hips so that the tip of his erection pressed against her.

  Calling on whatever self-control he still had, he took a condom from the bedside drawer, sheathed himself, then slowly breached her entrance.

  She barely heard his groan as she gasped, feeling as if she’d just gone up in flames….

  5

  KIERAN HELD HIMSELF very still, afraid that if he moved, he’d spill his need into her before even fully entering.

  The problem was, he couldn’t control her movements. So when she slid up his length, his arms shook with the effort to ward off coming.

  Sweet Lord, she felt so exquisitely good. He longed to please her in a way no one ever had, wanted this to last for as long as he could make it.

  He slowly withdrew, to her soft objection, then surged into her to the hilt. Her back came up off the mattress, jutting her breasts forward. He stroked her again, then bent to take one of her nipples deep into his mouth. She moaned low in her throat, threaded her fingers through his hair, then pushed up until he sat back on his haunches and she straddled him, her ankles crossed behind him, her mouth fastening on to his, her arms around his neck. She rocked against him.

  He grasped her hips, wanting to hold her still, yet mesmerized by her sensual movements.

  Then he stopped fighting and went with the flow… .

  The moment he gave himself over to the connection with her, he transcended his concern of premature ejaculation and they moved as one, caressing, exploring, gasping, each moment better than the one before.

  The pure, sweet, hot bond was beyond anything he could recall experiencing before. There was no awkwardness or fear or inhibition…merely a true sharing, enjoyment of each other and their bodies.

  Her breathing quickened, her heightened state of awareness feeding his own. She leaned back on one arm, giving him free view of her luscious body. Her torso moved in a boneless, mesmerizing way that left him spellbound. She was part cowgirl, part exotic dancer, part something different, not of this world.