Can't Forget Him

by West, Cara

  "And I don't think you owe Sam a damn thing. On the other hand, you do owe it to me to let me know what you're thinking. Especially when it pertains to us. You asked me to forget the past women in your life. Well, I'm sick and tired of our being haunted by my family. When you and I are alone in a room together, I don't want anyone else there."

  Her eyes narrowed with purpose. "The last things I care about are honorable intentions, Nate. And I'm not in the mood for misplaced gallantry."

  Something about the way she said the last must have triggered Nate's male instincts, because he glanced around furtively, as though seeking an escape.

  She stood between him and the door to the terrace. His only way out led directly to the bed.

  She slowly closed the gap between them.

  A stern expression appeared on his face. "Megan, I'm warning you. We don't need complications." He sounded tough, but she saw panic in his eyes.

  "On the contrary, I think this will simplify matters."

  "I think I should leave."

  She smiled wickedly. "Not tonight."

  He crossed his arms. "You're being ruled by your impulses. And I won't go along with it."

  Oh, no? She almost laughed out loud.

  Her amusement must have shown because he cast her a look of deep suspicion.

  Suspicion wasn't going to save him tonight. Neither would vigilance. Not this time. He was naive if he thought he could resist her. All she had to do was go about it the right way.

  Their passion by the pantry had been an education for her. Looking back, she'd seen exactly how he'd handled her so that he'd ended up dictating events. She wasn't going to let that happen again.

  Her first maneuver was probably the most important. Nate was admittedly stronger. Yet she was just as agile.

  When she feinted to the left, he tried to dodge around her. Prepared for his move, she threw herself into his arms, managing to land them both on the crimson bedspread.

  Before he could get away, she flung herself on top of him.

  "Megan, damn it—! I told you—"

  She stopped his frantic protest with her lips.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MUFFLING HIS OBJECTIONS, she settled herself over him and discovered he already had a partial erection. When she wiggled her hips, he pulsed against her belly.

  Groaning, he opened his mouth to her tongue.

  He tasted faintly of coffee. Savoring it, she lured his tongue into her mouth, urged its penetration. She skimmed her hand over his body, found his erection and heated her hand with it.

  A moist throbbing heat pooled between her legs.

  They were both on fire.

  "Megan... don't," he cried hoarsely.

  She felt him try to pull away, but his need betrayed his will.

  When she dragged her skirt higher to expose her hips, he nestled instinctively in the cradle of her thighs. Through the barriers that remained she felt his insistence.

  Her own body set up a dizzying response.

  "No one can stop us," she gasped. "Not me. Not you."

  And suddenly what she said was true. Both had lost control of the situation. Now he pillaged her clothing for snatches of her skin.

  They were kissing wildly, like feral creatures. All vestiges of civilization rose like steam off their passion. Until the mating of their mouths couldn't satisfy their cravings.

  Their bodies contorted as he tore at her dress. She ripped a seam dragging it over her head. Her bra came next and then her panties, to consort with his shirt on the floor by the bed.

  And all the while she fumbled with his pants, tugging them down his legs, along with his briefs.

  He moaned, reaching for whatever part of her was nearest while she struggled to dispense with his shoes and socks.

  Finally, panting with need, she collapsed on the bed. When she rolled onto her back, he fell over her heavily.

  Their mating was fast and hard and hot and slick. Hands grabbed and clung to whatever was handy. Mouths mimicked the coital joining.

  Megan couldn't get enough. She wanted harder, faster. Her legs circled his waist as she met his thrusts. He gave her harder, faster, deeper, higher. Until she came with a cry of mindless pleasure.

  Seconds later, his own cry followed.

  MEGAN GRADUALLY BECAME aware of her surroundings and realized they lay sprawled in semidarkness. She rose on one elbow and peered into Nate's face, but it was impossible to read his expression.

  She had no idea how their mating had left him.

  When he stirred, she panicked.

  "Don't leave me," she said.

  "I'm not going anywhere." His voice was husky.

  Megan couldn't tell whether his gruffness was because of satiation or chagrin, but she snuggled into his shoulder when he pulled her closer.

  He burrowed his face in her mane of hair.

  "Damn," he said so softly she almost missed it.

  "What?"

  "We didn't even use a condom."

  "I'm protected," she said hurriedly.

  "Hmm."

  He could have meant anything by the noncommittal sound. She pushed herself up with a palm, again trying to read his expression. She was suddenly filled with uncertainty over her impulsive act and in serious danger of feeling regret. It all depended on how he felt about what had happened.

  "What did the 'hmm' mean?" she asked.

  "Are you on the pill, Megan?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. At least we don't have to worry about getting you pregnant. But there are other..."

  His somber tone churned in her belly. She threw herself on top of him. "Stop. I know what you're thinking, but it's too late for regrets."

  "So what do we do now?"

  When she didn't answer he went on evenly, "Shall we get out of bed, put on our clothes and pretend this never happened?"

  She clung rebelliously.

  "No, you're right," he murmured. "It's too late for that, too."

  She relaxed over him like a warm blanket, but her backside was getting chilled, as was her psyche.

  When she shivered, he ran his hands up and over her in a massaging motion.

  This time, she shivered from pleasure.

  "Are you cold?" he asked.

  "Mmm."

  "Let's get under the covers."

  She laughed weakly. "That's the best offer you've made me tonight."

  Without waiting for him to withdraw it, she pulled up the sheet and spread. Seconds later they were both snuggled in the cocoon they'd created.

  They lay for several minutes, their limbs entangled. Still, bodily contact didn't soothe Megan's doubts.

  Finally she sat up beside him. "I can't see you," she complained.

  "Do you want me to get up and turn on the overhead light?"

  "No," she said, horrified. The last thing she wanted was the glare of reality.

  With her refusal, he shrugged in apparent acquiescence. But she was frustrated to realize she couldn't interpret his movements.

  "I can't see what you're thinking. Tell me."

  "Tell you about what?"

  She sighed in mild exasperation. "Did you...did you enjoy it?"

  He gave a hoot of laughter. "I think 'enjoy' is an inadequate term."

  "What term would you use?" She trailed fingers through the hair that curled on his chest.

  "I'm not sure mere words could describe what just happened."

  "You mean our making love?" She lay her palm flat against his sternum and felt the strength of his heartbeat.

  "Honey, what we did was more primal than that." He let out a harsh sigh. "Damn, I haven't lost control since... since I can remember."

  "I kinda provoked you."

  "That's one way of putting it."

  '*Are you sorry? No, don't answer that." She clapped her hand over his mouth.

  He peeled it away, albeit gently, and didn't speak for a long moment. Then, as though reaching a decision, he turned her on her back, stretched out beside her and pr
opped his head on an elbow.

  "Megan... Megan." He smoothed her hair from her face. "I wanted so very much for our first time to be special—to evolve out of our commitment. I wanted to make exquisite love to you. To give you great pleasure."

  "I came," she said.

  "Shh." He put a finger to her lips. "We both came—too quickly. That's not what I meant."

  Suddenly her bravado collapsed. She felt a rush of tears, and her lips trembled. "If this wasn't the way you wanted it, I'm sorry."

  "No, no, sweetheart, it's not that at all." He stared down at her, seeming to absorb her distress. "We'll go on from here."

  His voice grew seductive. "Megan, I want to adore you with my body." One hand cradled her head before settling against her wet cheek.

  "Like this." He kissed her lightly on the lips, pulling away when she would have deepened the meeting. As his hand caressed the column of her neck, his mouth began a languorous exploration of her features.

  He tasted her salt tears. He smoothed her brow. He closed her eyes with his butterfly kisses. With the tip of his tongue, he moistened the comers of her mouth. He cherished her, and she began to blossom.

  Her lips opened in invitation. A purr of satisfaction escaped her throat.

  "Yes," he encouraged her.

  Tracing the line of her jaw, his mouth arrived at her earlobe. Taking it between his teeth, he nibbled delicately before slipping his tongue into the shell of her ear.

  She shivered deliciously at the unexpected sensation. Her insides were beginning to heat and weep. A sensual lassitude had replaced her despondency. Basking in his attentions, she stretched like a cat.

  "Yes," he murmured. "That's the way I want you. Lazy, yet expectant."

  What her body wanted was more of his touch.

  As if he read her mind, he slipped the sheet down her hips. "I want each and every inch of you to bask in the pleasure I bring you.'' His words were warm and moist as they floated by her ear.

  Apparently he didn't need light to guide his other senses. Finding her breast, he touched the very tip of her nipple.

  Even the single point of contact was enough to make her shudder.

  "I want each bit of pleasure I give you to be distinct and memorable."

  "Wh-what do you mean?" she breathed, arching her back.

  In answer, he rubbed the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  She sighed with the pulses of excitement he provoked.

  "Yes," he urged. "Oh, honey, I love it."

  "I do, too," she gasped, beginning to feel like a star pupil.

  Her body had become sensitized to his lightest contact. She wasn't sure where his hand would travel next. She only knew her skin was heating with anticipation.

  Nate seemed determined to set a leisurely pace to his lovemaking. And she was, at his direction, slowly but surely losing her mind.

  When his touch left her breast, she whimpered in protest. Her whimper became a moan when he took her nipple in his mouth.

  When he sucked on it, she pulsed yet again. Her whole body writhed in exquisite frustration.

  His hand stroked her stomach before drifting down over her belly. When his fingers slipped between her thighs, they opened to his touch. He separated the delicate folds and with two of his fingers delved inside her.

  "Is it good?" he asked.

  Her body buckled with rhythmic ripples.

  "Mmm, I like it when you're hot and wet and ready to come. Will you come for me?"

  Her answer was a yearning sound from deep in her throat. Moments later she climaxed with a muted scream.

  Afterward, she lay winded and dizzy.

  When she started to stir, he placed his hand on her shoulder, gently yet firmly holding her in place.

  "What are you doing?" she whispered, not understanding his actions.

  "That was good," he murmured, "but I want more."

  "More?" she gasped, feeling overwhelmed with sensations.

  "Yes, more. Do you want me as much as I want you?"

  His mouth began to trail caresses over and between her breasts.

  "I—I do," she gasped, her skin still heated and sensitive.

  "I'm hungry for you," He found her belly button with his tongue.

  Lingering for a moment, he then sampled the soft skin of her stomach. Still, it was obvious his hunger was taking him to another destination.

  When she realized what it was, her body throbbed with need. Her hips rose instinctively, and he cradled her buttocks with his palms, opening her thighs to his wanton ministrations.

  As he ravished the most sensitive intimate part of her, he made rumbling sounds of pleasure. She'd never been enjoyed as though she were a feast.

  She'd thought before that she'd climbed as high as she was able. But with his lips and tongue and mouth, he took her higher and higher until she convulsed around him beyond volition.

  Even as she lay there, still trembling with her climax, he came up over her, thrust inside her and met her mouth with his.

  She tasted her own spice and his urgent male passion.

  He thrust... and thrust... and thrust... until they both went over the edge.

  WHEN SHE AWOKE, the light of a new day was seeping through the window. Megan felt the space next to her with her hands, although she'd already sensed she was alone in the bed.

  There wasn't even a warm spot to mark Nate's occupancy. He must have arisen while she was deeply asleep.

  She wondered what he'd been thinking when he left. Was he as unsettled as she was? The thought made her uneasy. She knew she needed to review everything that had happened and decide how she felt before she went hunting for Nate.

  Parts of the night could only be savored. She'd fantasized about sex with Nate Kittridge a good portion of her life. The realization of that fantasy had been totally unexpected and beyond her imagining.

  Just remembering the delicious way he'd touched her, entered her, sent a flush over her skin and caused an ache between her legs. She'd gone off like a rocket every time. Apparently she affected him the same way.

  He was a hell of a lover with or without his renowned technique. Led by his emotions, instead of controlling them.

  But that was a major cause of her unease. She hadn't expected his love to be part of the equation. She wasn't ready to be loved by Nate. As soon as she realized it, she felt shame and ambivalence.

  Damn it, she wasn't in the mood to be loved by anyone. She'd told him that the day by the lake.

  She wasn't ready to be married, either, as he'd assured Sam they would be. Marriage and children were more than she could handle. Her hands were already full taking hold of her future.

  She wasn't certain what she wanted from Nate, except that she'd be bereft beyond measure if they stopped seeing each other. Or if last night turned out to be a one-night stand.

  She felt like a child, wanting everything her way, taking what he'd been reluctant to give her. Impetuous and arrogant, just as Betty had seen her. Whatever had made her think she was all grown-up?

  Megan threw off the covers, suddenly restless, and remembered her suitcases were still in the car. Throwing on yesterday's dress, she went to the window.

  The November morning refused to reveal any secrets. It was overcast, dreary and timeless. A drizzling rain coated the world with chill and damp.

  She listened for movement. Was she alone in the house?

  Surely not. Nate wouldn't leave without saying goodbye.

  Even if she'd been the aggressive one. She'd jumped the man. There was no way to sugarcoat it. And today she would have to reap the consequences.

  She whirled away from the window impatiently.

  Introspection made a taxing companion. She had better things to do than stand around and mope. When she headed to the bathroom, she noticed her suitcases by the door. Nate had obviously found them in the car and brought them up.

  That was a hopeful sign. Even more hopeful were the faint smells of cooking.

  After a hot
shower, she dressed in jeans, sweater and a friendly smile, resolved to deal pleasantly with whatever awaited.

  By the time she reached the first floor, she could identify the smells: coffee and bacon. She couldn't remember stocking her pantry for breakfast. Despite the dreary day, Megan's mood turned buoyant.

  "Good morning." Her voice preceded her into the kitchen.

  Nate glanced up from the frying pan he was tending and sent her a smile.

  Perhaps it was her imagination that his face strained to produce it. When she went up behind him and locked her arms around his waist, he leaned back into her embrace with a small sound of satisfaction.

  Megan took in the rest of the scene. "Coffee, juice, bacon and bagels with cream cheese. Where'd the food come from?"

  "The same place I picked up the frying pan and paper plates. Don't you know you can't move into a house without dishes, utensils or a refrigerator?"

  "Details, details." She snatched a juicy strip of bacon from the plate where it was draining and poured herself some coffee.

  "Mmm," she said after a bracing sip. "At least the place came with a stove."

  "You call this a stove? It was already an antique forty years ago. I don't think it's reliable. It has to go."

  "I can't afford a new one.''

  "I can," he retorted.

  After a moment, she decided not to challenge him, at least not directly so early in the morning. Instead, she murmured, "Yes, oh mighty potentate, your wish is my command."

  He snorted. "If only that were the case."

  "Our lives would be boring," she came back jauntily.

  When he didn't respond, she felt a frisson of fear. Ignoring it, she began to roam the kitchen.

  "I'd do my part and set the table," she said, "only I haven't got one."

  "Add another item to a very long list. Do you actually consider that you've taken up residence?"

  "Yes."

  "You don't even have basic furnishings."

  She hefted herself onto a countertop, intent on acting casual. "I'll get them when I can."

  "Do you have the money to buy a refrigerator?"

  She stiffened, forgetting her act of docility. "You're being awfully nosy, Mr. Kittridge. Do you think our being lovers gives you the right to interrogate me?"