“No, you’re not. Not yet.” His mouth found the triangle of damp curls at the juncture of her thighs. Her breath hissed out as his tongue tasted her, his name a whispered plea. He lifted his head to look at her. “Open your legs wider. Let me have you.”
To his surprise, she clamped her thighs together. Her grip on his hair tightened. “I don’t want you playing nice, O’Connell. I want you inside me. Now.”
Who was he to argue? Declan reared up, bracing himself with palms against the mattress on either side of her arms. “Condoms?”
“Are you contagious?” she purred, stroking one finger down the middle of his chest.
“You should know me better than that.” His voice came from a throat tight with need. She circled her finger around his navel. His eyes widened as sensation jumped straight to his straining cock.
“I do,” she answered with a grin. “You’re nothing if not careful.” A slight dip lined her brow for a moment and then it was gone. “I’m safe, too.” Her hand curled around his erection. “I want you inside me. Naked. Nothing between us.”
Her thumb swept over the tip of his cock, spreading the bead of pre-cum over the fat head. With a gasp, Declan pulled her hand away and knelt between her legs to guide his throbbing shaft to the entrance of her body. She was unbelievably wet, her cream trickling down her thighs. Any worry he’d had that he would hurt her if she was unprepared was pushed away.
He punched his hips forward, saw the moist tip of his cock slide past the slick folds of her sex, and felt her, tight and hot, close around him. The sensation shook his control even further.
“Pel!” Her name burst from between his clenched teeth. He grabbed her firm ass and lifted her as he slid in another inch. “Tell me you’re okay, darlin’.”
“I’m fine. I’d be better if you’d just hurry up.” She gasped, her eyes bright, her hands sliding around him to clutch at his back.
He laughed, a short, sharp burst of sound from a throat tight with need. With a hard flex of his hips, he buried his cock deeper. It had been a long time since he’d felt such ecstasy—two years, in fact. It was all he could do to keep from ravaging her, so great was his need. Lowering his head, his tongue flicked the taut peaks of her breasts. The action tightened her body around him even more.
“I feel full, like you’re part of me,” she whispered. “But I want more, Declan. I want all of you.” She slid her hands from his back down to grasp his buttocks.
“Me, too,” he gritted his teeth and surged forward. Her sheath was slick and hot and velvet soft, and so tight it was just about to kill him. He buried himself deep, withdrew, thrust hard again. He watched her face for signs of discomfort, but her expression held only a look of passion, her eyes glazed, her breath coming in pants.
Satisfied she felt the same pleasure as he, Declan began to move, gliding in and out of her, deeper with each stroke. He tilted her hips so he could thrust even deeper, wanting her to accept every last inch of him, as if by her body accepting his she could see past the monster in him and love him.
He buried himself to the hilt, shoving so deep he felt her womb, felt the spasms of her climax beginning. “I’ve never felt like this, mo chroi. Never.” He needed her to know how he felt, what she meant to him.
His rhythm became faster, harder, his hips surging forward, beyond any pretense of control. Pelicia cried out as her body splintered and Declan felt the strength of her inner muscles gripping him in the intensity of her orgasm. He pumped into her frantically, the explosion ripping through him from his balls through the top of his head.
When he could make his mind work rationally again, he eased out of her, groaning as her inner muscles clung to his sated cock. He tucked her against his side and blew out a sigh. Finally he had her where he wanted her—in his arms again, limp and soft. Before he could get comfortable, though, she stirred, pushing away from him to sit on the edge of the bed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up and pressing a kiss on her shoulder.
She shook her head. “I…I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?”
“This.” She made a vague gesture at him, at the bed. “Sex is one thing, but this…”
He frowned. “What’re you sayin’, Pel? I’m good enough for sex but that’s it?” With some chagrin he realized he sounded like a wronged woman, but damn it! That was how he felt.
“Now that the shoe’s on the other foot, it’s not so pleasant, is it?” She glanced at him and shook her head. “And before you get angry, that wasn’t what I had in mind when I started…this. I wanted you. I still do.” She sighed and looked away. “I just don’t think I—I don’t want to snuggle. It was just sex.”
And that was the hell of it. This reticence of hers to let him close again was what he’d been trying—unsuccessfully it seemed—to overcome. What in God’s name was he to do now?
He drew in a slow breath and released it just as carefully. Sliding an arm around her, he drew her back against him. She remained stiff. And he was damned if he knew what to do.
Pelicia held herself still. Declan always had been a great cuddler after sex—something not many men seemed to be comfortable doing. But for him it came as naturally as the intercourse part did.
But now, to lay in his arms in the aftermath, to hear the thump of his heart beneath her ear, the warmth of his skin against hers…that level of intimacy with him scared her. She was too vulnerable, too emotionally fragile where he was concerned. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—open herself up like that to him. Not now.
Maybe not ever again.
With a shake of her head, she moved away from him and climbed off the bed. She began to dress in silence. She heard the squeak of bedsprings as Declan shifted behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, dark eyes slightly narrowed, brow furrowed with puzzlement.
“Talk to me, Pel.”
“I can’t do this.” She sat on the bedside chair and pulled on her sandals. “Please get dressed.”
To his credit, he didn’t argue but stood and grabbed his underwear. As he pulled the boxer briefs up his muscled legs, he said, “I don’t understand. Darlin’, what’s goin’ on inside that head of yours?”
She got to her feet and crossed her arms. “This is exactly how things started out between us two years ago, O’Connell. A little flirting, some heavy petting, hot, raw sex and then…” She shook her head and clamped down on tears that burned her eyes. “I’m not going down that road again.”
He yanked on his jeans, zipping them but leaving the top tab undone. His heavy sigh bespoke his confusion. His dark gaze held hers. “Tell me what I can say that’ll make you believe me. Tell me what to do.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure there is anything you can do.”
A gruff sound left him, and he reached for her.
Pelicia held out one hand. “Please, Declan. Don’t. Don’t push.”
“I’m not even allowed to hold you?” He shoved his hands in his front pockets, thumbs hooked over the edge. “That’s not bloody fair, Pel.”
She searched his face. “I’m sorry. I just…If you touch me, we’ll end up on that bed again.” Deciding a strategic retreat was in order, she walked toward the bedroom door. “Give me time.”
“If you keep pullin’ away from me, we’ll never be able to talk about what happened. About us.”
A pulse throbbed madly in her throat. She lifted her hand, pressing her fingers against the fluttering vein. She partly turned and met his gaze. “I’m afraid of you,” she admitted quietly.
Pain and regret flared in his eyes. “I realize that.” A muscle twitched in his strong jaw. “You trusted me and I betrayed you. That’s goin’ to take a lot of forgettin’. A lot of forgivin’.” He drew in a breath. “But you have to let me close enough to give me a chance, darlin’.”
She pressed her lips together. “Just…give me time,” she repeated.
He let her go without another word. Declan had always been su
ch a persistent suitor—for him to let her walk away from him now meant a lot. Yet it made her sad that he seemed to give up so easily.
She was being so contrary. You can’t have it both ways, you nit.
Pelicia went downstairs, and as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Sully back on the small sofa in the drawing room, his nose in a book. He lifted his head briefly and cocked an eyebrow in greeting, then went back to his reading.
She frowned. Sitting indoors reading a book wasn’t the way she’d spend her holiday, but maybe this was how he unwound. When he’d first checked in she’d learned he was from London and that his family was “in investments,” whatever that meant. If he was a high-powered broker, she guessed just sitting around and reading for the pleasure of it might be the only time during the year he had the chance to do something so inactive.
A bracing cup of tea was what she needed. And maybe a day away from this place. She’d call Brenna and see if she’d come tomorrow to watch over the guests. If she could, then Pelicia was heading to London for a day trip. Not that she could really afford it. Not financially. But emotionally she needed the break.
From the Nola.
From Declan.
And, perhaps, even from herself.
Chapter 7
Sully stood at the window in the drawing room and watched Pelicia get into the front seat of a taxi. He’d heard her on the phone earlier, making arrangements to meet someone for an early dinner, and that was when he’d realized she was leaving for a trip to London.
He could hardly tag along without raising suspicion. He’d tried to reach Declan, but couldn’t get through. He’d sure as hell keep trying. But in the meantime he had reached a friend of his at Scotland Yard who’d promised to be waiting at Heathrow and would follow Pelicia, watch over her, just in case. Sully had snapped a picture of a photo of her with her grandparents and sent it by e-mail so his friend would know what she looked like.
He pinned his hopes for her safety on the fact that this was unplanned. Whoever had been taking shots at her wouldn’t have a heads-up about this trip and so would be less likely to be in a position to pursue her.
“Hallo, luv.”
At the sultry tone, Sully turned toward the doorway. A curvaceous blonde walked into the room. She wore a flowered skirt that bounced around her knees when she moved, and a blouse the color of a robin’s egg made her clear blue eyes all that more startling.
When she reached him, she held out her hand. “Brenna Brown. I’m a friend of Pel’s. I’ll be your hostess for the day.” She gave him a flirtatious smile. “And you are…”
He shook her hand, noticing with a small grin that she held onto it longer than necessary. “Sullivan O’Rourke.” As she let go of his hand she trailed a finger along his palm. His grin widened. He did like a woman who wasn’t afraid to let her feelings be known. “My friends call me Sully.”
“Well, Sully.” Another smile and a slow wink. “I have a feeling we could become very good friends.” She looked at him from beneath long lashes. “Unless you’re already spoken for?”
He glanced at her left hand and saw a narrow gold band on her ring finger. Looking back at her face, he raised one brow. Flirtation was one thing, but he wouldn’t get mixed up with a woman who wasn’t free to enjoy the carnal side of life with him. “I’m not, but it looks as if you are.” She twisted the ring around her finger and shook her head. “My husband died three years ago.” She brushed her bangs away from her forehead. “I just…haven’t been able to take it off. Not yet.”
Sully inclined his head. “I’m sorry.”
She smiled, though the sadness didn’t leave her eyes. “He was a good man and I miss him. But I know it’s time to get on with my life.” She started to say more, but broke off when the front door opened. Walking out into the foyer, she greeted the big blond man walking into the house like a long-lost friend, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Neal! You didn’t let me know you were back, you naughty boy.”
The man returned her hug and smiled. “I thought I’d surprise you.”
She drew back and looked over Neal’s shoulder toward the door. “Are you by yourself? Isn’t there one more guest? An…Andrew something-or-other, I think?”
“He’s never around.” Neal glanced at Sully. “You never did say this morning at breakfast what it is you do for a living.”
Sully cocked his head to one side, wondering why it mattered. But he’d sized up this bloke at breakfast—he knew the type. Big, brawny, full of testosterone but insecure around other men, needing to point out their shortcomings to bolster his own. Not that most women seemed to mind that. Sully gave a nonchalant shrug and stared straight into Neal’s eyes. “My family is into investments.”
Which wasn’t a lie.
Neal gave a nod. “Good for you. With as much as I enjoy photography, I don’t think I could make a living any other way. Well,” he grinned, “not completely. It’d be nice to have a cushion, though.”
Brenna tucked her hand in the crook of Neal’s arm. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to take really good photos.” One lid slid down in a slow wink. Her smile was wide and eager and full of lust. “Perhaps I could train under you.”
“Perhaps you could,” Neal said, looking down at her. “You wouldn’t be the first woman that’s trained…under me.” His grin was equally lustful. “My portfolio is in my room, if you’d care to see it.”
Sully fought to keep from rolling his eyes. The man might as well have said Why don’t you come up and see my etchings? It was obvious these two already knew each other and were just playing now.
Brenna glanced at Sully. “You’ll excuse us, I’m sure.”
She didn’t wait for his nod, but turned toward the staircase, grabbing Neal’s hand and dragging him along behind her. Neal looked at Sully with a grin and obediently trotted up the stairs.
Sully went to the bottom of the steps and watched them. They went straight to Neal’s room and closed the door. He heard them laughing, and then there was silence. In only a minute or so the bedsprings squeaked and a low male groan filtered through the door.
He shook his head and went back into the drawing room. To each his own.
His phone vibrated in its holder against his side. He pulled it out and answered with a terse, “Sullivan.”
“I’ve been tryin’ to reach you for over an hour.” Declan’s voice was a low growl of frustration. “Damned phones.”
A high, feminine wail came from upstairs. Sully grimaced and got straight to the point. “Pelicia’s off to London for the day. And before you yell at me,” he said in a hard tone, “I’ve asked one of my inspectors to wait for her at Heathrow and follow her. And since she didn’t give anyone advance notice, the chances of your sniper following her—let alone finding her—are slim.”
Declan gave a snort. “An’ you think she won’t notice a police officer trailin’ her through the streets of London?”
“He’s plainclothes, O’Connell.” Sully understood his friend’s frustration, but he didn’t appreciate it being taken out on him. He walked over to the window and glanced outside. Other than a few camera-toting tourists, there wasn’t much going on. He turned back toward the room. “And he’s good—one of my best men. Just how much of a muck-up do you think I am?”
“Sorry.” Declan’s heavy sigh echoed across the line. “Damn it. What the hell did she go to London for?”
“She said on a shopping trip.” Sully walked over to one of the plump burgundy-on-gold striped armchairs and sat down, crossing one leg to rest his ankle on the opposite knee. “But she looked a little…fragile.” When Declan didn’t respond, Sully prompted, “Dec? You still there?”
“Aye.” Declan’s voice was harsh and deep. “What does that mean? Fragile?” His voice dropped even lower, the tones coming through in a guttural rasp. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Just what I said. She looked like she was ready to break. Emotionally. I imagine she felt the need to p
ut some space between her and…this place.” More likely between her and Declan, but Sully wasn’t going to go there. He rubbed his fingers across his ankle. “She’ll be back in the morning, Dec.”
“She’d better be.” There was a pause then Declan asked, “Have you seen anything unusual? Anything odd about her guests?”
“How about odd friends?” Sully stood. Going to the doorway of the drawing room, he looked up the stairs. It was quiet now. Thank God.
“What do you mean?”
Sully sighed. “Oh, nothing. It’s just one of Pelicia’s friends is here supposedly to watch over things until Pelicia gets back, but right now she’s upstairs shagging one of the guests.”
“You’re joking.” Declan’s voice held amusement mixed with incredulity.
“No, I’m not. Unfortunately.” Sully went back into the drawing room. “She took one look at Neal and pretty much dragged him upstairs. I think they’ve, ah, been together before.”
“What did you think of him?”
“Neal?” Sully shrugged. He transferred his mobile phone to the other ear. “First impression is…not much. We ate breakfast together this morning and he seemed rather interested in me, what I do for a living, and so on. He claimed his curiosity stems from his being a photographer and so is naturally inquisitive about his surroundings and the people in it. But I don’t buy it.”
“Why not?”
“There’s just a bit something…off about the man. I can’t put my finger on it just yet. And don’t even get me started on the ever-absent Andrew.” He heard footsteps on the stairs. “Hang on a minute.” He dropped his hand to his side, still holding the phone, and went back to the drawing room doorway.
Neal came down the last few stairs, tucking his shirt into his pants, camera hanging around his neck. Whistling off-key, he looked up. A grin widened his mouth. “Never turn it down when it’s free, you know what I mean?”
Sully gave a nod. As Neal continued toward the front door, Sully asked, “You’re heading out again?”
“I just came back to pick this up.” Neal hefted the camera. “And so…here I go again.” He opened the front door and left, pulling the door closed behind him.
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