Under His Touch

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Then met her eyes, his dark chocolate in the extremity of his desire, and slid into her. He’d forgotten about his shirt, so she fisted her hands in it and tore it open, enjoying the turnabout and the way his face clenched. Especially when she dragged her nails down his chest.

  With rigid control that belied the wildness in his face, he stroked in and out of her, keeping it slow until she caught up. Which happened faster than she’d have thought, after those bone-breaking orgasms.

  Of it all, though, she loved this best. The feel of him inside her, his skin against hers, the sinuous slide of his body and the intent way he watched her face, measuring, anticipating. They’d transitioned from the game now, back to being just them, twined with each other, saturated in the delight of how they fit. Like minds coming together in a profound meeting and understanding.

  He quickened, tightened, gasped. “Oh, love...”

  “I’m with you.” She wrapped her arms around him and let herself fall.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Neither of them said anything for some time. He felt curiously incapable of thought. Emptied out. Purged on some level, aware mainly of her immediate presence, limbs tangled with his, her breath slowing, heart thudding in the same rhythm as his, her slim, supple body under him. Vaguely he contemplated moving. Knew he should.

  Instead he buried his face in the scented crook of her shoulder, breathing her in and filling those spaces she’d opened up.

  He’d seen this, in others. The emergence from that zone. But he’d never quite experienced it himself. Had never sought or expected it. Hadn’t known he needed it.

  Somehow Amber had.

  And he wasn’t at all sure how to process that.

  “I can hear you thinking,” she said in a dry tone, but she also stroked his hair with gentle affection. “Amazing, since that was off the charts.”

  “Indeed.” Though she’d made no complaint of being crushed, he rolled off of her and focused on the ceiling. She sat up, thoroughly bedraggled, one pigtail drooping, the ribbons dangling over a naked breast that showed through her open blouse. “Do me a favor and take your hair down, would you?”

  She smiled, entirely pleased woman, but did as he asked. “Such a simple thing, to yank your chain so very hard.”

  He closed his eyes, which didn’t help, since the images had apparently been burned onto his retinas. “I’m rather bruised and bloodied from said yanking, so I’ll thank you to leave off for a bit.”

  “I can do that.” A whisper of movement as she leaned over him, her silky hair spilling over his chest, her lips brushing his. “I’ll go change clothes and then how about I scrounge something to cook for supper?”

  He cracked an eye open, relieved to see her without the erotic symbolism that had so completely gutted him. She looked ravished still, but less as innocence defiled. “You want to cook?”

  “Did you think I don’t know how? I’m actually a decent cook, particularly if I feel like I have the time.” Amber smoothed her fingers over his cheekbones, his brow, and he let his eyes close, absorbing the sensation of being cared for. Wondering that it felt so foreign, yet welcome. Water on parched soil. She kissed him again, lightly, as soothing as her touch. “Why don’t you have a shower or a bath, then join me in the kitchen, keep me company?”

  She was being gentle with him. Taking care of him and giving him room to recover from the mind-fuck she had to know she’d delivered so exquisitely. Something else he didn’t know how to process. He waited until he heard her messing around in the kitchen, then took her suggestion and went for a shower, blistering hot, to bring him back to himself.

  He felt exhausted, beyond the physical challenges of satisfying his insatiable young mistress. She’d pried him open, getting him to talk about Tessa, then widened the wound, a scalpel to his heart with a stroke as clean as ripping apart his shirt, leaving him no ability to hold back. No reserve, as she so frequently accused him of having.

  She’d put on the shorts and T-shirt again, singing as she chopped vegetables. Some song he didn’t recognize. Possibly by the rock star she wore. Something about getting a tattoo that said she’s living in the moment, which seemed an ironic juxtaposition. She turned and smiled, registering that he’d put on the old jeans and green shirt she’d picked out. After all, he’d not had them on for long.

  “Stir fry okay? I’ve got rice steaming, but I don’t know how to make curry. I’ll have to learn, so I can attempt to counterfeit London curry for you. It’s started to rain, so at least we have that much ambience.”

  He lifted her chin, bemused and dazzled by her. “You remembered that?”

  “Of course. I told you. I’m making a very serious study of you, collecting my clues.” She set down her knife and caressed his cheek. “You shaved.”

  “Yes. I’d gone past scruffy. Sorry.”

  “I like you both ways.” She raised on her toes and pressed her soft lips to his cheek, slowly inhaling. “You smell of almonds and wood.”

  “My shaving soap.”

  “Mmm. Yes. Delicious. I opened some wine.”

  And had poured herself a glass, too. He sat at the breakfast bar and poured a glass for himself, watching her so at home in his black-and-chrome kitchen. A place he’d rarely spent any time. Her presence made the place cozier, reminding him of times spent chatting with his mother and sisters as they prepared holiday meals, though their kitchens were nothing so sleek. For once, the stab of nostalgia, of homesickness, felt less a pain than a pleasure.

  “I was thinking tomorrow we should drive out to the beach,” she interrupted his thoughts by saying.

  “The beach?”

  “New York is an island.” She flashed him a cheeky grin. “It doesn’t take that long to get to a nice one I know of. We could go early, have lunch and walk on the sand a bit.”

  “And if it’s raining?”

  “Even better—not so many people.”

  “All right then.” He stopped himself from saying whatever you want. Even though he knew in his heart that it was true. He hadn’t been able to deny her from the beginning.

  “Good. I think it will be good for you, help with the homesickness, to see the ocean again.”

  And that was why.

  * * *

  “You can drive!” Amber exclaimed, running her hands over the smooth leather of the passenger seat.

  “I never said I couldn’t.” He gave her a sideways glance of amused irritation as he backed the car smoothly out of the reserved space in the parking garage. He’d been thoughtful, a bit withdrawn, since the mind-blowing scene that had rocked them both the previous afternoon. Not in broody-Alec way, though. He’d been more relaxed than she’d known him to be and casually affectionate with it. They’d eaten, watched part of a movie, then thrown in the towel and gone to bed.

  He’d made love to her in a completely vanilla, extraordinarily ardent way that had her wondering what was going on in his head. And left her hesitant to ask.

  “You won’t drive on the wrong side of the road, will you?” she teased, just to see how he’d respond.

  “I shall endeavor to keep my wits about me.” He patted the hand she’d set on his thigh, enjoying the feel of his muscle flexing through his pants. “Which means this stays here. No distractions.”

  “If we’d had the car service take us, we could have distracted each other.”

  “I enjoy driving, recreationally. I see more this way. Appropriate, as you have me sightseeing.”

  “I love that you drive a Jag, too.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Because of course.”

  He laughed and she settled in, happy to have shaken some of his pensiveness. Having gone to sleep early, they’d awakened early also. The city traffic—between Sunday morning quiet and the continuing rain—remained lig
ht for the drive out to the beach. Alec stayed quiet, too, absorbed in his thoughts, but it was a pleasant silence between them.

  It let her replay her favorite parts of yesterday and last night. He’d called her “love” twice during the kink scene, but she’d put it down to the role-playing, especially as he hadn’t said it again, and she really doubted he’d meant anything beyond the pet name. Or one of the Britishisms that came out when he was over the edge. He’d never said the word before that she could recall and she thought she’d remember because of the exotic way he pronounced it—with a breath at the end. More like “luff.”

  She really wanted to hear it again, but she could be patient. Early days yet.

  The steady rain had the beach deserted, and Alec gave her a questioning look as they pulled into the parking lot. “Not ideal weather for a walk.”

  “What—because it never rains in England?”

  He laughed and tugged her over for a kiss. “You have a point there.”

  The chill breeze off the water made her glad she’d thrown some jeans into her overnight bag, and Alec had loaned her one of his sweaters—no, a “jumper,” which cracked her up—and it felt like the perfect thing to be wearing. Warm, enveloping and smelling of him. He smiled as they walked hand in hand, the wind ruffling his hair. It had been the right thing to bring him here. They went a ways and then, as the rain picked up, turned back.

  “Does Brighton look like this?”

  “We’re some distance from Brighton and that’s more built-up. Piers and Regency buildings and lots of tourists. The beach by our house is much this way—dunes and shore grasses. The town is quite rural, much less so than this region. Country.”

  “And you’re the only one of your sibs who left?”

  “Yes. The only one not content to live off the family money.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “I was too ambitious for it.”

  “Did they understand?”

  “Yes and no. They thought I’d gone quite off my head going to the States. My mother, in particular, has been nagging me to come home for a visit. Mostly so she can see for herself that I’m all right.”

  “So will you?”

  He glanced at her, something opaque in his expression. “I’ve been thinking of it, yes. Perhaps later in the summer, around my birthday, would please them. Would you like to see England?”

  “I would love that.” She nearly said it his way. Luff. Pure, sheer happiness simmered in her that he’d suggested it. He’d stopped talking about them in the short term. Months away. Meeting his family.

  “There’s a restaurant back by where we parked.” He nodded toward it, perched on an overlook, with sea-sprayed windows overlooking the surf. “Shall we eat, warm up and dry off?”

  “Definitely.” She raked her damp, snarled hair off her forehead. “Though I probably look like a sea hag.”

  He stopped and pretended to scrutinize her. Then cupped her face in his chilled hands. “You look indescribably lovely, as always.” He kissed her lightly, which quickly turned hotter and deeper, making her forget the rain.

  Luff.

  The restaurant was as deserted as the beach, so they snagged a table at the windows. Alec insisted on beer with fish and chips, if she wanted to replicate the British beach experience. He pronounced the facsimile close enough and teased her into trying vinegar on her French fries. Ducking out to use the ladies’, she sent Kiki a quick series of heart emojis. They’d talk later.

  Neither she nor Alec spoke of the fact that they’d be at work again the next day. They’d figure it out. Get through it. Once he was satisfied they were more than a fling, they could come out of the closet, as it were. Maybe meet with the partners and figure out a way to let everyone know.

  “Amber?”

  She whirled around at the familiar voice. “Daddy!” Surprised, delighted, she jumped up to hug him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same. I came out to look over some real estate in the area.”

  “Always working, even on the weekend. Don’t give yourself a heart attack.”

  “You sound like your mother. And your stepmother.” His questioning gaze went over her shoulder to Alec, who’d politely stood.

  “Dad, this is Alec Knight.” Eesh. How to introduce him? “We work together.”

  “Looks like that’s not all you’re doing together. John Dolors. Amber’s father.”

  “Good to meet you.” Alec shook her father’s hand, all business genial, but that cool reserve had slammed into place. “Would you like to join us? We’ve nearly finished, but we could ask the server to bring up another chair.”

  “No, no. I already ate at the bar. Brit, are you?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Yes, well.” He put an arm around Amber. “Our little girl is very precious to us.”

  “Daddy.” She kissed his cheek. “Don’t embarrass me.”

  “Just letting him know you have family who looks after you. Though I wonder if your mother knows about this.”

  Now he was annoying her. “Seeing as how I’m an adult and not required to report on my activities, I’d guess not.”

  “I see. Why don’t you walk me out to my car? Knight.” He nodded and steered her out. Behind his back she caught Alec’s eye and mouthed sorry. He simply sat and signaled the waitress for the check.

  “So what’s this about?” Her father started in, as soon as they were out of earshot. “And don’t tell me you just work together. It’s more than that—it’s written all over both of you.”

  She managed to tamp down the gleeful surge of pleasure at that. Fairly easy to do, since her dad was getting under her skin and Alec had looked coolly pissed. “What it is is none of your business. That whole grown-adult thing, remember?”

  “Nonsense. You will always be my business. Always be my little girl. I don’t care how old you are.”

  “Fine. Yes, I’m seeing Alec romantically. It’s only been a couple of weeks so I’m not ready to bring him over for family dinner and interrogation, okay?”

  “Isn’t he a little old for you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Honey—think about it. When you’re a middle-aged woman, he’ll be an old man.”

  “You mean, when I’m his age, he’ll be your age?”

  That annoyed him. “Don’t get smart with me.”

  “I was born smart and you encouraged me to act smart. Give me a little credit, Dad.”

  “What about babies, a family—will he give you that?”

  She laughed, because the absurdity took her breath away. “We’re dating, not picking out wedding china.”

  “You act like that’s not important, but you don’t want to wake up someday and discover you’ve wasted your youth on a man who can’t or won’t give you what you want.”

  “And you just assume I want marriage and babies.”

  “Don’t think you won’t.”

  “I do think that. I’m pretty clear on what I want, and babies are not on my radar.”

  “You’re too young to know what you want.”

  “Oh, is there some magic age for that? I’m old enough to choose a career but not anything else?”

  “You’re full of ambition now, but that could change in an instant.” He snapped his fingers. “You have to think about these things.”

  “Why?”

  Her dad glowered. “Amber—”

  “I’m serious. I’ve been seeing him for two freaking weeks—not even that, really. What the hell is wrong with living in the moment? I refuse to evaluate every potential relationship on whether he’ll be suitable to replicate the life you and mom had. This is my life and maybe I want to do it differently!”

  He went from angry to defeated, as fast as his finger snap. “Did we set s
uch a terrible example? I know things were bad for a while, but...”

  “No, Daddy. No.” She hugged him again and he patted her shoulder. “Just...give me some room, okay? Let me find out for myself what I want.”

  He set her back on her feet, pointing his chin at Alec who’d followed them out and was waiting for her by the wooden steps that led up to the restaurant. “And you think it’s him?”

  “I think—” She’d been about to say I think he could be. But she realized that would be prevaricating. “Yes. I’m pretty sure he is. I’ve found a great guy. I want to enjoy that.”

  “Humph. Well. Bring him over for dinner sometime then.” He cracked a smile and waved at Alec. “So we can interrogate him properly.”

  Chapter Thirty

  “What are the odds, huh?” she said, walking up to Alec.

  He didn’t smile, however. Icy reserve deployed like a force field. “It depends—why did you pick that particular beach?”

  Oops. “It’s a favorite,” she admitted. “But I didn’t expect to see my dad there.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t set you up that way. Why would I?”

  “I can’t imagine.” He looked out at the ocean. Shook his head. “I think it’s time to return home.”

  “Okay.” She got into the car, trying not to give in to feeling rattled. The almost-fight with her dad, the very awkward introduction and now Alec. Clearly Not Happy. “I am sorry about that. You know fathers—overprotective.”

  “As he should be. I’d no doubt feel the same in his shoes.”

  She studied his profile. “Except you know there’s no reason for him to be concerned. That I don’t need protection from you.”

  “Don’t you?” He flicked a glance at her. “One wonders what he thought of the mark on your neck.”