by Alysha Ellis
His words tipped her over the edge and she convulsed into orgasm, her hips jerking forward, grinding their groins together. With a shout, Zakk followed her.
When her heart had slowed its wild pounding, she unwrapped her legs from around him and lowered them until she stood on tiptoe, still clinging to Zakk for support.
He bent his knees and withdrew, then leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers. “I had planned something a little more romantic for our reunion.”
Her grin felt like it would never end. “Do you hear me complaining? That was smoking.” She sobered a little. “What are you doing here? And how did you find me?”
“If you give me a second to get my breath back”—he smiled—“we’ll talk.”
“We do have to talk,” she said. “I think we’re going to need to get some clothes on.”
“We could spend a couple of days in bed and then talk if you want,” Zakk said, his eyes twinkling. “I’m good with that.”
The idea of having Zakk naked in her bed weakened her resolve, but she stiffened her spine. “There’s the bathroom.” She pointed at a door. “I’ll make some coffee.”
Kitty donned a robe and put the kettle on. By the time Zakk emerged, wearing his jeans and shirt, she had coffee made and was putting together some sandwiches. “I thought you might be hungry,” she said.
“I can think of about a dozen answers to that, but they are all too obvious,” Zakk replied.
Kitty blushed. “If you mean… We just… So you shouldn’t still be…” With a shrug, she gave up her tangled attempt to explain.
“Kitty, I am always hungry for you, and once will never be enough.” He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it tousled.
Kitty swallowed. “I’m really glad you’re not mad at me for the way—”
“Not mad? I was so furious I was dangerous,” Zakk said, narrowing his eyes. “I thought I was still angry right up until the moment I saw you walking down the corridor.” He blew out a hard breath. “Then I discovered that wanting you trumps every other feeling I have.”
Too emotional to speak past the lump that closed her throat, she pushed a coffee mug in front of him. He grabbed her wrist and held it, not hard enough to hurt, but too firmly for her to pull away. “It hurt, Kitty. You left me as if it didn’t mean a thing, after I told you I loved you.”
Tears stung her eyes. “It meant something.”
“If it did, I deserved more than a quick phone call from the bloody airport.” The hand holding her wrist shook a little. “I certainly deserved more than to have you attempt to disappear from my life forever.”
Shame thickened her voice. “I thought it was for the best. I had to go and knew I wouldn’t be back. I didn’t think there was any chance you’d come over here.”
“You didn’t ask me what I thought, did you? Didn’t give me any opportunity to offer any suggestions for how we might work things out.” He let go of her hand and scrubbed his hands across his face. “I don’t want it to be over and I don’t think you do either. So here I am. I want to hear you say it to me in person. Tell me you don’t want us to be together and I’ll go.”
It was impossible to lie to him. Not when ten minutes ago she’d been so desperate she couldn’t wait to get him inside her. But she couldn’t explain herself, couldn’t take the next step, either. So she focused on an easier topic. “How did you find me?”
“The Internet. It wasn’t hard. Answer the question. Do you want me to go?”
“No,” she breathed. “I want you to stay with me. I always did.”
His mouth turned down in a thin line, and his fists clenched. “Then why did you do this?”
“I did it for Cassie—and because in the long run I thought it was best for you.”
“You’re wrong.” He looked up at her, his eyes bleak. “I will always want to be with you.”
“You say that now, but what if you change your mind?”
“What if you do?” he retorted. “I’m prepared to take that risk. I took leave from my job and traveled halfway around the world for you.” This time when he grabbed her hand, he laced his fingers through hers, clinging to her. “I’ll do whatever you want me to. All you have to do is let me love you.”
His hand, linked with hers, was strong and brown. Zakk was right. The risk wasn’t great at all. She’d lied to herself and tried to pretend she didn’t love him, but time had shown her how empty her life would be without him. Why shouldn’t she have what she wanted? Cassie had needed her for a brief time after her accident, but now she was back living her own life. Kitty didn’t have to go on making sacrifices for her.
Her lips curved into a small smile. “That’s all I have to do?”
His answering grin lit up the room. “There are a few more things you could do if you wanted to,” he replied. He tugged on her hand until she toppled into his lap. “But for now that will do. I love you.”
“I love you too, Zakk,” she said with a sigh. “And I have missed you so much. I won’t leave you again.”
“Promise?” he asked, and although he still smiled there was a hard edge to his words. “Promise me that if you start thinking your happiness comes second, or that someone else’s wants are more important than yours, you’ll talk to me before you go rushing off somewhere.”
“I promise I’ll never leave you again without telling you where I’ve gone and without promising to come back,” she said, leaning her head against his solid chest. “And I promise if I have questions or doubts, I’ll talk to you before I make any decisions that affect us.”
“Good,” he mumbled, dropping a kiss on her hair. His voice rumbled again, and Kitty turned her head to ask him to repeat it, but, as soon as her lips parted, Zakk’s mouth closed over hers.
Desire, so recently sated, stirred again.
“Bed this time,” Zakk breathed against her lips.
“Hmmph,” she replied, too hungry for the taste of him to break the contact.
He stood, arms still wrapped around her, carrying her up with him, and started walking.
Kitty flung out one arm in a gesture she hoped indicated the direction he needed to go. He spun on his heel and headed that way, so she assumed he’d figured it out and threw her energy back into kissing him senseless.
And he kissed her right back as if he were drowning and the only air in his world came from her. The soft cushioning of her mattress hit her back as Zakk lowered her to the bed and followed her down. The robe she’d put on earlier slipped off her shoulders as Zakk tugged at the knot and pushed it aside. His jeans and shirt were thrown across the room to land in a heap, but, when he turned back, he held himself away from her. “I’m staying in the UK for a while, Kitty,” he murmured. “I have a job lined up. I start next week. This is serious and permanent. You got that?”
“Permanent?” she whispered. “How permanent?”
“Permanent as in forever.” A fire burned deep in his brown eyes. “I want us to get married.”
“You want to get married?” Her chest tightened and she had to force out enough air to speak.
“Yes.” Zakk locked gazes with her. “From now on I’m telling you exactly what I want so you don’t come to any more mistaken conclusions. And now you get to tell me what you want.”
For a moment she stared at him, this gorgeous man who had come halfway across the world to find her, whom she wanted with every beat of her heart, whom she loved. Happiness would be going to sleep wrapped in his arms each night, waking with him in the morning. She didn’t need the formality of vows and legality.
No, she didn’t need it, but… “I want that too,” she said. “I really do. Yes, let’s get married as soon as you’d like. But when you’ve seen enough of the UK, when you’ve met Cassie and done the things you want to, let’s go back to Australia, because that’s where we met and it’s where we bel—”
Zakk kissed her once more and slid home inside her. The soft drag of friction as he pulled back then thrust forward a
gain drove any conversation from her head. The only thing that mattered was the sight, the scent, the feel of Zakk—here in her arms, now and forever.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Her Lord’s Table
Alysha Ellis
Excerpt
Chapter One
The man taunted her. His tongue stroked slowly over the slick surface of his lips, his pupils darkening as he savored the taste. Susan couldn’t stop herself. She moaned.
Desperate hunger gnawed at her insides. The sight of the rotund older gentleman in the corner, gorging himself on his luncheon of cheese and bread, almost made her weep. Even the pungent aroma of the raw onion he crunched between his yellowing teeth smelled good.
Everyone in the swaying coach turned to look at her. Heat mounted in her face. To set the seal on her humiliation, her stomach gave a loud, inelegant growl.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt full. With three sisters and her widowed mother at home, their supply of money gone, they had to eke out what little food they had. They never had enough.
Now there would be even less. The coach fare to London had taken the last of their available cash. Mama and the girls had stores of enough vegetables and oats to last another week or two, but Susan had brought nothing with her, assuring them she wouldn’t feel hungry on the long, stuffy coach ride. The man sitting opposite her, devouring his packed lunch, had proven it to be a lie.
Once she got to London and found her brother, she’d be able to eat as much as she wanted. As soon as Charles understood their plight, Mama and the girls would be able to buy the food they needed. He surely wouldn’t begrudge spending a little of his sizable fortune to support his stepmother and half-sisters. They weren’t asking for fripperies like smart dresses or horses or carriages, just enough money to ensure they didn’t starve.
The extra expenditure shouldn’t be too irksome. As Papa’s only son, Charles had inherited all the estates entailed to the male line, including the income that went with them. Not long after their father’s death, on Charles’ twenty-fifth birthday, he’d also gained control of fifty thousand pounds from the estate of his late mother. Her half-brother was a wealthy man.
Papa had been certain he’d provided well for his second wife and their three daughters. The estate’s unentailed capital, itself a considerable sum, had been invested for their ongoing support. They should have had no need for any further assistance from anyone.
Since Charles had no obligation to share his fortune with them, he’d told his stepmother and half-sisters they were welcome to continue living in the drafty old country house, then packed his bags. Without any parting words of affection or promises of future visits, he’d headed back to London.
No one had suffered any pangs of regret when Charles left. His lack of familial devotion hadn’t been surprising. He had never shown much interest in anything other than hunting, drinking and socializing with his friends. Susan’s mother had been sorry to see him go, but not concerned. They could get on very well without him.
But only six months later, the lawyer administering their inheritance had disappeared, taking all their funds with him. When the man hadn’t returned or been apprehended, Susan’s mother had written to Charles, asking him for help.
He hadn’t replied to that letter or to the three following. Now, after weeks and weeks of waiting, Susan had set out for London to find him, so she could apprise him of the situation in person.
She’d been on the road for five hungry hours with three more to go. Never had one hundred and eighty minutes seemed such an interminable time. Only the anticipation of her reception waiting at Charles’ home kept her from moaning again.
Once she got there, she’d be welcome. The townhouse had once been the family’s London residence. Susan knew the staff. Charles could be at home, or out for the evening, or even out of town for a few days, she would still find a meal and a bed.
She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the hunger pangs, pretending to doze. When the coach stopped for a change of horses, she stayed inside. Better to let her fellow passengers believe her too tired to wake up than to have them know she couldn’t afford any of the meager fare the posting house offered.
By the time the coach rattled over the cobbled streets of London, she didn’t have to feign tiredness. She ached all over—her eyes felt gritty and dry. She dragged herself out of the door and picked up her small case from the pile the coachman tossed onto the pavement, ready to make her way to her brother’s home.
She knew she drew some strange looks. Her clothes were worn and out of style but were originally of good quality, an indication that someone her age and gender should have been accompanied by a maid. Still, she assured herself, serving girls walked about London every day without being accosted. If they could do it, so could she.
Nevertheless, when she finally turned the corner near Charles’ house, she picked up speed, running up the stairs to grab the knocker.
The door swung open, but before the butler had a chance to speak, she burst out, “Oh, Roberts, I am so pleased to be here. I’ve been on that wretched coach all day. I’d love a cup of tea and something to eat.”
An unfamiliar voice, cold and formal, replied, “I beg your pardon, madam. You seem to have made a mistake.”
Susan looked up. She didn’t recognize the man standing there. “Where’s Roberts? Don’t tell me my brother let him go? He’s been with the family forever.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone named Roberts, madam. Nor do I know who your brother might be.”
Susan frowned. How dare this man speak to her in such a haughty manner? “I am your employer’s sister. I wish to come inside. If Roberts isn’t here, let me speak to Mrs. Good.”
The butler blocked her way into the house. “My employer is Lady Milthorpe. I am not aware of her having a sister. There is no one named Good here.” His daunting formality dropped. He glared at her. “I don’t know what your game is, girlie, but you’d best be off. Go on, before I get one of the footmen to chase you away.”
Waves of dizziness washed over Susan. She was too tired and too hungry to make sense of this. She looked frantically at the façade of the house. She’d definitely come to the right place. “This is my brother’s house. I don’t understand who you are or why you’re lying.”
“Is there a problem, Henry?” The soft voice spoke from just behind Susan.
“Lady Milthorpe.” The butler stood to attention. “This young person claims to be seeking her brother. She says he owns this house.”
Susan turned. A well-dressed, elegant woman, accompanied by a footman and a maid, stood on the step below her. She looked Susan up and down, her expression neutral. “Is Mr. Charles Brody your brother?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” Susan said, sagging in relief at the first thing anyone had said to her that made sense. “Charles is my brother. This is his house.”
The woman’s white forehead wrinkled. “I bought the house about a month ago.”
“Then where is Charles? Where is the staff?”
“I couldn’t say where the staff have gone, but your brother has left for the West Indies. I am led to believe he had to flee some gambling debts. I am afraid…”
The woman’s voice seemed to come from a great distance away. The twilight deepened into black. Susan thought she ought to say something, but the steps heaved in a strange manner. Darkness absorbed all the light and sound.
* * * *
When she opened her eyes again, she lay on a couch in a small room. For a moment she couldn’t get her bearings, then she realized she been taken to the rose sitting room of the London townhouse. But it wasn’t rose pink anymore. The entire room had been repainted in soft shades of blue.
“Here, drink this,” a female voice said.
Susan felt the cool press of glass against her hand. From the acrid fumes, it had to be some kind of alcohol. She took one sip. The harsh fluid caught at the back of her throat, making
her choke.
When the coughing fit had passed, she drew an uninterrupted breath into her lungs, wiped her eyes and looked at the woman in front of her. Susan had seen her before. Outside. On the doorstep.
A memory came flooding back. “You said my brother wasn’t here. He sold the house to you.” Humiliation made her face burn. “I have to leave. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you.”
“Nonsense. You haven’t inconvenienced me at all. Henry carried you in here.” The woman smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Susan suspected she made her disclaimer more for show than reality. She stood, planting her feet wide apart to try to brace herself against the faintness.
“Do sit down,” her reluctant hostess said. “You’re far too pale. I can’t send you away if you’re just going to faint again on the pavement in front of my house.”
After a discreet rap on the door, a maid entered with a tray set for two. Susan took one look at the array of sandwiches and cakes and her determination to leave disappeared in a waft of tea-scented steam.
“We weren’t properly introduced, of course. I’m Lady Milthorpe.” The woman looked at her with upraised brows.
“I’m Susan Brody,” she replied, too focused on the small plate holding some cucumber sandwiches and a slice of butter cake to pay much attention to the niceties of social behavior.
Lady Milthorpe gestured with her hand. “You’ve obviously had a long journey. You must be hungry. We’ll continue our discussion in a moment.”
Susan didn’t need any further encouragement. Good manners, lady-like reserve or any other consideration fell before her hunger. Lady Milthorpe herself barely touched the food, but still, within a matter of minutes, she’d emptied the tray. Lady Milthorpe rang the bell and ordered more sandwiches.
Susan murmured a half-hearted protest, but Lady Milthorpe shook her head.
“I can certainly spare a few sandwiches. You need to take the time to regather your composure.” She leaned forward. “You appear to be unaware your brother had left the country. Had he expected your visit?”