Passionate Kisses 2 Boxed Set: Love in Bloom

by Magda Alexander

  “No.” Her voice quivers. “I didn’t mean to add to your troubles.” She sniffs again.

  Is she crying? God damn it. I will down my pain, my anger. I can’t take out my frustration on her. “You didn’t. I visited my eye doctor today. He shone a bright beam into my eyes which gave me a splitting headache.”

  “Oh.” The tension drains out of her voice. “The light in the dining room is really bright. Would dimming it help?”

  I smile at the image of Moseley serving our food in the dark. Unfortunately, the gesture makes my pain worse. “That won’t work. You won’t be able to see your soup.”

  “Yes, I would.” She walks toward the wall where the light switch is located. A flick and the room grows dim. What little I could see vanishes. Truly in the dark now, I’m a moment away from begging her to switch the lights back on when she asks, “Is that better?”

  Her words thrum through my senses, soft as silk, sensual as velvet. Why hadn’t I heard the melody in her voice before? I take a deep breath, let it out. As long as I have her words to hang on to, I’ll be fine. She’ll be my anchor in the dark. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “When my mother suffered from headaches, I would massage her temples to relieve the pain. Do you think that would help?”

  I don’t know that it would, but at this point I’m willing to try anything. “Maybe.”

  The air shifts, and I sense her walking toward me.

  “She enjoyed the scent of lavender oil. But since you’re sensitive to smells, we’ll skip that part.”

  Knowing her, she probably has a bucketful of the stuff in her room. “Yes. That would be best.”

  She rests her fingers on my brow and lightly rubs my skin in a circular motion. “Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

  “You’re not.” I feel better just from having her hands on me. But there’s one thing that would help more-her voice. “Tell me about your mother.”

  She clears her throat. Does it pain her to talk about her mother? “She was beautiful.” Caitlyn lets out a self-conscious laugh. “I suppose all children think that about their mothers.”

  “Mine was beautiful as well.”

  “Most of my life it was just her and me.”

  A sharp pain stabs my eye, stealing my breath. But then her soothing massage rubs it away, and I’m able to breathe again. “What happened to your father?”

  “He died when I was very young. She never remarried. No man could ever measure up to her memory of him. She loved my father that much.”

  Much like my own. “Must have been difficult.”

  “It was. To make ends meet, she worked two jobs. As soon as I became a teenager, I got a part-time stint at the mall to help out, but she insisted I save the money for college.”

  “Mothers want the best for their children.” Mine did, until she was no more.

  “Yes. Our house was small, but I never lacked for food or love. Whenever I came down with something, she’d rush me to the doctor. Unfortunately, she didn’t take as good a care of herself.”

  “What do you mean?” Without meaning to, I scrunch my brow, and the cruel pain stabs again. Closing my eyes, I allow her healing touch to soothe away the ache.

  “She waited too long to check out a lump in her breast. By the time she went to the doctor’s, it was too late. Stage 4 breast cancer. That was a year ago. They gave her six months to live. Unwilling to let her go, I insisted on chemo and radiation treatments which only prolonged her misery. She passed away two months ago.” Her voice fades.

  I grasp her hands, squeeze them. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m feeling better now. Go back to your seat and finish your soup.” Her arms drop, and I instantly miss her caring touch. But I can’t have her playing nurse. That’s not her job.

  “Okay.” Jangling all the way, she returns to her chair. Somehow the noise doesn’t bother me as much anymore.

  “Moseley?” He had to have heard that sad story, but I trust him implicitly. He won’t breathe a word of it to another living soul.

  “Yes, Mr. MacKay.”

  “Please serve fresh soup to Ms. Bennett.” It had to have grown cold while she attended to me.

  “Of course, Sir.”

  During the rest of the meal, we go over the details of the dinner party. After promising to follow through with the arrangements in the morning and go shopping for clothes in the afternoon, she retires with the excuse she needs to finish unpacking her things.

  Once I can no longer hear her steps, I ask the question I’ve wondered about since I met her a mere two days ago. “Moseley?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “What does Ms. Bennett look like?”

  For a moment, there’s silence, but then he tells me what I want to know. “She’s about five four, slender but not thin.”

  I smile. “No, she likes food too much for that. What color is her hair?”

  “Hard to say. Brown with reddish glints.”

  “Mahogany then.”

  “Yes. It falls to the middle of her back. She likes to wear it loose.”

  “And her eyes?”

  “Brown.”

  I’d like to know their exact shade, but I don’t dare ask. “Thank you, Moseley.”

  “You’re most welcome, Mr. MacKay.” He’s been with me since before I lost most of my sight so he knows what I’m like. Demanding, impatient, a tough businessman. He must be wondering about my fascination with Caitlyn Bennett. But I don’t owe him an explanation, especially when I don’t know the answer myself.

  An hour later, I’m in my office struggling to finish the stockholders’ report which must be sent to the printer tomorrow if it’s to be ready for the meeting. But the pain in my eyes has returned with a vengeance and it’s interfering with my thought process.

  Hoping the agony will go away, I rest my head on the desk. Just as I do, my door creaks. I don’t have to wonder who it is. Her scent gives her away. She’s changed into something that doesn’t rattle, but swishes instead. A nightgown probably. My groin tightens at the thought of Cait in a nightie.

  “Is your head hurting again?”

  “Yes.” I grit out through the agony in my head.

  “Do you want-”

  “No.” I can’t bear to have her near me again when I’m imagining her wearing a negligee of some kind. I’m liable to do something I regret.

  “I found some unscented oil among my things. That’s what I came down to tell you. Maybe if I used it to massage your temples, it would help.”

  I want her to massage something alright. Just not my brow. “Go away.”

  She lets out a hard sigh. “You have no medicine for this?”

  “I don’t like to take it. It makes my head all muzzy.”

  “Do you mean to tell me you have something to dull the pain but you’re too-”

  The agony goes to double time with the rise of her voice. “Stop yelling.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  Her dulcet tone streaks down to my cock, hardening me. I groan.

  “Where’s your medication?”

  “Upstairs, in my room.”

  Whatever she’s wearing swishes and just like that she’s gone. I rest my head back against the office chair and breathe deep. Sometimes that gives me some ease. Unfortunately, today it doesn’t work. Just as I’m gathering the strength I need to stand, she’s back.

  “I brought your pills.”

  “How did you find-”

  “Moseley. He said you take two?”

  “Better make it three.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, damn it.” The agony cuts off my breath.

  “No need to yell,” she whispers. “It will just make it worse.”

  I breathe through my mouth to lessen the pain. Sometimes that helps. “There’s a bottle of Dewar’s in the credenza behind you. Top shelf. Glasses too. Pour me a finger of the scotch so I can get these down.”

  She doesn’t jump to it, b
ut stands there, like a mummy. “Are you supposed to be drinking alcohol with that medication?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Water would be better.”

  “Just get me the scotch.”

  Her clothes swish, something slides open. The credenza. She returns and hands me a glass.

  I slip the pills into my mouth, knock them back with the scotch. Except it isn’t. “Damn it. It’s water.”

  “Yes, it is.” Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  I wave my hand at her. “You can leave now.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You just took three pain pills which will probably incapacitate you. Let me help you to your room.”

  “No. Get Moseley.”

  “Moseley’s gone to bed.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I woke him up to get your pills.”

  Damn it. I don’t want her to see me in this state. Weak, in pain, stumbling about in the dark. For the first time, I stand up in her presence. “I can get myself to my room.”

  “With all due respect, Mr. MacKay, you can’t. You’ve just taken three pills which are bound to make you woozy. What if you fall and hurt yourself going up the stairs?”

  “I can do it.” Rounding the desk, I stumble against it, knocking over something. “What was that?”

  “The glass. Don’t worry. It’s only water.”

  I take a step or try to anyway. What happened to my knees? They’re wobbly at best.

  “Here.” She wraps an arm around my waist and props me against her side.

  I snort but instantly regret it when a sharp pain stabs the inside of my head. Breathing through my mouth, I snap at her. “You’re going to hold me up? How do you figure that? You’re a tiny little thing.” The top of her head barely reaches my shoulder.

  “I’m stronger than I look.”

  With me leaning on her more than I should, we wobble our way down the corridor, not once bumping into a thing.

  When we reach the stairway, she prompts. “Okay, take a step.” I do only to stumble back, taking her with me. Damn it. The pain pills kicked in, and my head’s swirling. Should have waited until I reached my room to toss them back.

  She firms her arm around my middle. “Try again.”

  I do, this time with success.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Counting steps.”

  “Why?”

  “So you’ll know how many are left.”

  How does she know I do that?

  “Eight, nine, ten.”

  Maybe it’s the pills. Maybe it’s the situation. But something about what she’s doing strikes me as hilarious, so I join in the fun. “Fifteen, seventeen, twenty-one.”

  She blows out a breath. “Stop that. Darn it. Now you’ve made me lose count.” She grips my waist even tighter. She’s got to be tired. I’m not only several inches taller than her but weigh more. “Seven.”

  “I thought we were up to thirteen.”

  “I’m counting down. Five. Four.”

  I let her do her thing until we reach the top step. And then in fits and starts we make our way to my room where she drops me on the bed.

  “Should I ring your valet?”

  “You can’t. It’s his off night.”

  For a beat, she doesn’t say anything, probably trying to decide whether she should abandon me to my own devices. “Okay. Well, let me help you with your shoes then.”

  I can’t help but be enchanted by her concern for me. She’s trying so hard to be helpful. “They’re moccasins. I can manage them.” To prove my point, I toe them off.

  “So. Ummm. Where do you keep your pajamas?”

  I grin like a fool. “Don’t have any. I sleep in the nude.”

  “Oh.”

  Wish I could see the color of her cheeks. I bet she’s blushing. But as much as I’m enjoying this, it’s time to put an end to this interlude. She’s done enough for me. “Goodnight, Ms. Bennett.”

  “Are you sure you can … undress by yourself? I can call Moseley to help.”

  “And wake my butler from a sound sleep? I think not. I have this.” I stumble to my feet and go for my belt. Unfortunately, the darn thing’s a tricky two-prong strap. With the three pain pills in my system, I’m all thumbs.

  “Here. Let me do it.” Nudging my hand back, she fiddles with it with no success.

  No surprise. Even my valet has a hard time with it.

  “Shoot. This is hard to do standing up. Sit down.”

  “Okay.” Head swimming, I plop back on the bed.

  She pulls on the strap, but the dang prongs won’t come loose. Refusing to give up, she redoubles her efforts. My cock unfortunately notices. If I thought I was hard before, it’s nothing to what I’m feeling now. The darn thing’s a log in my pants.

  “Darn it.” She straddles me, I’m guessing to gain better purchase, but I’m way past caring about the damned belt. I breathe in her musk. That scent of hers is not soap or cologne. It’s her. And it’s driving me insane. She’s leaning right over the zipper, fighting the belt for all she’s worth.

  And, just like a randy teenager, I’m about to come in my pants. “Caitlyn. Stop.”

  “Wait. I almost have it.”

  Sitting up, I curl my hand around the nape of her neck. “For the love of God. Cease what you’re doing.”

  “But-” She’s breathing hard and so am I. We’re close, so close, and her breath smells so sweet. Her fragrance weaves its magic around us, enthralling me, enrapturing me. So I do what I’ve been wanting to do all night.

  I kiss her.

  Not just kiss, but lick, nibble, bite her soft mouth. I’m so lost in the wonder of her, I fail to notice she’s not participating until she pushes away from me.

  “Mr. MacKay.” Stiff and unyielding, she’s a block of wood in my arms.

  But I can’t let her go. I want a hell of a lot more of her mouth, her lips, her. Hoping she’ll give in and give me what I want, I suckle her bottom lip. “Kiss me back, Cait.”

  “I c-can’t.” She’s not fighting me, but not kissing me, either.

  Resting my forehead against hers, I plead. “Please.” I’m begging I know, but I don’t care. I want her to kiss me back more than my next breath.

  For an eternity, she does nothing and then, ever so softly, her lips flutter against mine. A streak of pure lust shoots through me, and I clamp onto her and devour her mouth. When she trembles against me, I can’t take it any more. So I turn and slide her beneath my body.

  Someone knocks on my door. “Mr. MacKay? Do you need help, Sir?” Moseley. Damn his soul.

  “Oh, my God.” She wriggles away and beats feet away from me. The door crashes open and bounces against the wall.

  “Ms. Bennett!” Could Moseley sound more surprised? “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes.” She chokes out, probably red as a beet. “I helped Mr. MacKay to his room. He was a bit woozy from the pills.” She’s mortified to her core. And I did that to her.

  “I see. I’ll take it from here then,” Moseley says.

  “Yes. Thank you. Goodnight.”

  That intoxicating scent of her dissipates. She’s gone.

  As my butler steps into the room, the door clicks softly shut.

  “Do you require help Mr. MacKay. I know it’s your valet’s night off.” He clips out his words.

  I can’t blame his outrage. He saw enough to realize I was well on my way to seducing the help. A no-no in his book. Mine as well. Until tonight. Until Caitlyn. What a rutting bastard I am. Thank God he stopped me before I committed the ultimate crime. “Yes. This damn belt. I can’t get it off.”

  “Allow me, Sir.” In his hands the belt comes off in a thrice. Figures.

  “Anything else?”

  “No. I can take it from here.” I’ll be damn if I have him witnessing my cockstand.

  “May I speak frankly, Sir?”

  Something tells me I’m
about to be schooled by my butler. “Yes, you may.”

  “Ms. Bennett is your employee.”

  I bite back a curse. “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “You don’t … consort with the help.”

  “I wasn’t consorting with her. She was helping with the belt.” And I took full advantage of her kindness by assaulting her.

  “Yes, Mr. MacKay.” He doesn’t believe me.

  And he’d be right. I was doing more than consorting with Caitlynn Bennett. Given another minute I would have buried my cock balls deep in her. And that’s something that can’t happen. Time to call the escort service and have them send Minouette.

  Chapter Seven

  Caitlyn

  After tossing and turning half the night, I wake to find a typed note slipped under my door. “Please meet me in my office at eight sharp. There’s something I need to discuss with you. Sterling MacKay.”

  My heart thumps. He wants to discuss what happened last night. I shouldn’t have entered his room, but he was wobbly from the medication and I was afraid he’d hurt himself. And then … that kiss. I’d been so shocked I hadn’t reacted. I froze instead. But I wanted to. Everything in me loved what he was doing. Shivering from the memory, I rub my lip recalling how he’d licked me, nibbled me, tasted me. But that kiss will make things uncomfortable between us. So, even though it was not my fault, he’ll probably let me go.

  Oh, God. If he does, what am I going to do? I need this job so I can pay off my mother’s medical bills. If I don’t, they’ll be hanging over my head for a long time. Oh, I won’t starve, and I’ll still have a roof over my head. The restaurant will take me back. But even with a roommate, my finances were darn limited. I won’t be able to afford a decent car or plan for the future. I’ll be too busy paying off expenses for the next ten years.

  Brushing my tears away, I catch the hour. Darn it. I woke up late, and now I barely have enough time to brush my teeth and dress before dashing down the stairs. I make it to his office just as the grandfather clock in the foyer chimes the eight bells.

  Handsome as ever, he’s seated behind the desk in a killer three-piece black suit, hands templed over a piece of paper. “Ms. Bennett. Good morning.” His mouth’s drawn in a tight, white line. Is he still in pain? Or is this the expression he wears when he fires someone?