When he’d left, arousal had given way to anger. It had been enough to get her off the bed and across the room to set the bolt with a spiteful wrenching of the skeleton key in the lock. But by the time she’d shut off the lights and crawled under the covers, she’d been drained. The smell of him persisted in the air; his touch lingered on her skin. The ghosts of his presence left her no peace in the darkness.
A similar phenomenon had plagued her since the dinner party, her weekend nearly ruined. In the light of day, she seemed able to rationalize Griffin’s effect on her, but the rising of the moon brought with it an embarrassment of strange desires. She woke from her dreams, gasping and spent, her hands between her thighs and his name on her lips.
After two nights, she’d had quite enough, so it had been something of a relief when she’d discovered him waiting in her room. Regardless of his contention the other evening, he must have determined the better course of action was, indeed, to sleep together and put an end to the nonsense. It had made his abandonment when they were so close to what she had assumed was their shared goal even more shocking.
It had taken several hours before she had calmed enough to consider the situation realistically. He honestly wasn’t going to sleep with her until he learned her secrets, and though she despised using the intimate details of her marriages as ransom, it seemed her only option if she wanted to exorcise Griffin Bennett from her system.
She lifted her hand and drew it lightly across his forehead. He stirred and opened his eyes. He did not smile.
“Get out,” he growled.
“I need to speak with you.”
He swept away the sheet and rolled to his feet, grasping her harshly by the shoulders. The steely obstruction of his arms separated their bodies, but the heated anger from his bared skin blasted through the silk of her robe. Despite the charged atmosphere, blood flooded her erogenous zones, swelling her lips, hardening her nipples and pulsing into the juncture between her thighs. She strained toward him even as he held her at bay.
“There’s nothing you can say that will make me sleep with you, Lillian.”
She considered his assertion as she looked into his handsome face, his features made hard with fury, but also frustration.
“I am prepared to answer your questions.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “All of them?”
“Yes. As long as I have your word…whatever is said between us goes no further.”
He nodded solemnly. “Why now?”
“Because I have had enough of wanting you.” She focused on his lips.
He shook her slightly, making her lift her gaze.
“It’s not going to work, you know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You think if we consummate this twisted obsession, it’ll diminish its power over us…over you. But you’re wrong, Lillian, absolutely wrong.”
“That is not your concern.”
“The hell it isn’t. Don’t you think I’m being tortured the same way you are?”
For a breathless moment, she knew he was right. Sex wouldn’t satisfy the creature. But it was all she could think to do.
“Ask me your questions,” she insisted.
His hands slid from her shoulders to trace the sensitive skin along the back of her arms, his fingers curving around her wrists. He tugged her forward and then wrapped his arms around her. She braced her palms against his chest, tipping her chin to look up at him.
“Did you sleep with my father?”
“No.” She felt him relax. “It was never part of our agreement.”
“And what, exactly, was your agreement?”
“To act as his wife in every other respect and discretely care for him as his illness—the cancer—as it progressed.”
“So, you did lie to me about having medical training.”
“Yes,” she told him without hesitation, surprised at the relief the small confession brought. “I trained as a nurse. I don’t know why I couldn’t tell you. I hate lying as much as I hate liars. But revealing my past to you…I think I didn’t trust you. For that, I’m sorry.”
His smile forgave her even as it hinted at something she did not understand.
“So, you trust me now?”
Her gaze slipped to the pulse at the base of his neck. “Enough.”
His derisive huff ruffled the hair on the top of her head. “Enough so I’ll sleep with you.”
“Was that a question?”
“No, a clarification.” He took a deep breath, his chest pressing her palms, before letting it out slowly. “How did it happen, Lillian? Did you come up with the idea or is there some underground nurse-wife trade going on we mere mortals know nothing about?”
“Salvatore.”
“Who?”
“Salvatore Gustave.” She could not say his name without feeling a bittersweet longing. He had been a wonderful man, and she knew she would always remember him, miss him. “He was a patient in the hospital where I worked. I was his nurse. I had only been working a short time, six months, so I had the graveyard shift. Salvatore suffered from terrible insomnia his whole life. He liked to talk to me.”
“I bet he did.”
His dry sarcasm drew her attention. His mouth was a slash across his face. He returned her stare with a patently false indifference which suggested jealousy.
“No. It wasn’t like that. He was the first man to speak to me, not my hair or my eyes or my breasts, but to me. He recognized my competence, appreciated my compassion, valued my intelligence. He made an intriguing proposal and, after a time, I accepted it.”
“You married him.”
His desolation was as confusing as it was evident, as if the long ago union caused him pain. Lillian could make no sense of it.
“Yes.”
“Why?” he demanded. “Why couldn’t you have simply worked as his nurse?”
She smiled at the naiveté of his question. “Driven, powerful men—like Salvatore and your father—will go to great lengths to protect their reputations. The presence of a nurse is cause for speculation and doubt. But a wife…a wife is another matter, entirely. No one questions her presence in the home or at the office. And if she is a sophisticated, educated, striking woman? She will be received into a boardroom with little objection.”
He nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Of course, the perfect solution—for them. But what about you? Why would you sacrifice your life for these men?”
“Sacrifice?” She shook her head. “No. My marriages challenged me, provided unique experiences and invaluable opportunities to live and work closely with remarkable men. I made no sacrifices.” His brows had drawn tight over his intense gaze. “I do not expect you to understand.”
“Did you sleep with any of them?”
She stiffened in his arms. She understood his curiosity about her relationship with his father but balked at exposing such sensitive secrets regarding men who had trusted her.
“Lillian,” he warned her.
“Regrettably, no,” she bit out. “My husbands’ illnesses rendered them impotent.”
“Is it true?” He cinched her closer, pressing his lips to her temple. “That your husbands condoned your affairs?”
She shoved against him, the confinement of his embrace stifling. She had promised to tell him everything he wanted to know, but she had not thought he would want to know everything. Resentment welled and she feared, in an ironic twist, she would be the one uninterested in consummating their relationship when his infernal inquisition concluded.
“They did,” she told him sweetly, unwilling to cede just yet. “And my lovers knew I was married and that there were others. How many? Is that what you will ask next? I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I lost count years ago. Perhaps you’d like to know their vitals. Height? Weight? The size of their cocks? I’ve enjoyed men of many shapes and sizes. It was only necessary they satisfy me. And they did. Every. Single. One. Ti ho detto che lui non mi interessa?”
<
br /> He asked too much of her. She struggled to be free of him.
“Lillian,” he called to her.
Her ire withered at the promise in his voice. She looked up at him expectantly. He slipped an arm from around her, cupping her cheek with his hand and brushing the pad of his thumb over her lips. Instinctually, she touched the tip of her tongue to the warm and salty skin. His lids stuttered over his eyes, obstructing him from view. But his sudden, insistent erection left no doubt about her effect on him. She admired his ability to resist such a powerful urge for the sake of curiosity.
He opened his eyes, but his focus was on her mouth. While he watched, she traced his thumb with her tongue before closing her lips over him. His groan came from deep in his chest as she sucked gently. The hand on her back began to make a determined descent. His fingers firm on her ass, he drew her up against him, grinding her pelvis into his.
It was Lillian’s turn to close her eyes as his hard flesh teased her, maddeningly close but too far to provide relief. His thumb still in her mouth, Griffin tightened his grip and angled her back. He trailed hot, impatient kisses down her throat and over the curves of her breasts. She moaned with longing, cursing the thin silk between them.
There was a small popping sound as he pulled his thumb from her mouth. He looked at her with raised eyebrows, a devastating grin on his face. And then he was lifting her off her feet and tumbling with her onto the mattress, his muscled body breaking their fall. With an effortless twist, he had her on her back and fitted snug along his length. He untied the belt of her robe with nimble fingers and swept aside the silken material revealing her to him completely.
His breath hissed through his lips as he scanned her body. When he returned his gaze to hers she watched, fascinated, as the cerulean in his dual-toned irises went a deep sapphire.
“Beautiful.”
She wanted to thank him but didn’t get the chance. He moved on top of her, his mouth on hers, his tongue an unrelenting invader. She opened her legs around him, her body arching beneath him, inviting and insistent.
He rose onto his knees between her thighs, looking down at her as he stretched over and reached for the bedside table. A drawer opened and then closed. He straightened to look down at the packet he held in his hand before tearing open the foil. She groaned at the erotic sight of his fingers moving over his erection, unrolling the condom down its length. He smiled at her as he tossed the empty pouch onto the floor.
When he entered her, a throb of disorientation overtook her. It felt as if he’d provided the missing part of a circuit and she was being rewired. She reached for him, clutching his shoulders and pulling him over her. He leaned on his elbow by her head and tipped to one side, reaching around her to palm the curve of her hip as she wrapped him with her legs.
He moved, a steady and confident slide of firm flesh, provoking a delicious tension. She surrendered to it, closing her eyes. There was no tomorrow, no agenda, no obligation—only him and the satisfaction he promised.
And then the wickedness began to uncoil, called out of its secret hiding place to set off a flutter of butterflies in her stomach and twine, achingly, around her heart. Her eyes flew open.
“What is it?” he asked.
But words were impossible. How could she explain the sense of being marked by him, claimed, branded, when she couldn’t explain it to herself? And the dark thing—expanding with each thrust, threatening to make Lillian disappear—how could she tell him about it when it had no name?
She shook her head, denying his question along with the landslide of undecipherable sensations. And then, in spite of her turmoil, she felt the initial rumblings of orgasm. In a rush, they overtook her body and then, mercifully, emptied her mind.
Chapter 17
He was laying in the meadow, his arms crossed under his head. A gentle breeze rippled across the wild grasses and flowers surrounding him. He closed his eyes and inhaled, the mix of scents making him confused and lightheaded. And then one perfume overpowered all the others, calming his muddled senses: lily of the valley.
It wasn’t coming from the flowers, though. It came from the woman. She slept by his side, an arm across his chest, one leg twined with his. Strange, he hadn’t been able to catch her when he’d chased her, but once he’d laid down to rest, she had come to lay by him. With trembling fingers, he reached for her. At his touch, she broke apart, revealing a core of tufted seeds which lofted into the air. Their feathery presence engulfed him. He closed his eyes at their ethereal brush against his skin…and then they were gone, taken by a gust of wind. He was alone.
Griffin opened his eyes slowly, the ache in his heart lingering. He lay on his back. Orange streaks of early morning light stained the ceiling. The weight of an arm angling over his chest and the leg hooking his thigh reminded him. He was not alone. Her even breathing told him she still slept. Lillian.
He turned his head on the pillow and, echoing the dream, reached for her. His hand unsteady, he traced her cheek with the back of his knuckles.
When she’d come to him in the night he’d been determined, for the sake of self-preservation, to turn her away. But her offer to tell him what he wanted to know was too tempting for him to refuse.
He’d had no choice but to believe her direct honesty. She had entered into every one of her relationships with her eyes wide open and had discovered a profitable and fulfilling way to make the best of her considerable assets. He had to admit a grudging respect for her ingenuity.
If he’d been smart, he would have left it at that, but he’d been unable to resist the topic of her affairs. Her anger had accomplished what the self-serving attempt at seduction she had tried earlier in the evening had not, pushed him past reason. He’d been unable to think beyond a consuming need to erase the uncounted multitudes from her memory.
As he’d anticipated, the instant he’d joined his body with hers, he’d been lost. Instead of being terrified, though, he’d felt galvanized. Alive in a way he’d never known.
It had been different for her. When her eyes had flown open, he’d seen horror in their emerald depths. Too many lovers to keep track, she had goaded, but with him she had experienced something which had scared her senseless.
“Buongiorno,” she whispered against him.
He leaned close. “Good morning.”
He couldn’t resist pressing his mouth to hers. Her arms wound his neck, her body stretching along his. Their simple kiss was quickly becoming an insistent demand. She straddled him, her breasts flattening against his chest.
“Wait.”
“Are you not ready?”
She captured his lower lip between her teeth and looked at him. The gold flecks twinkled with humor.
“You tell me.” His hands on her hips, he pushed her down his body.
Her damp heat marked a trail over his abdomen, making it difficult to remember why he’d asked her to wait. She smiled wickedly when her bottom bumped his throbbing erection.
“Another condom,” she told him plainly, her hand out in anticipation.
“No. I need to ask you something.”
“More questions!” She sat up over him, outrage plain on her face. “More talk! Come una vecchia. What more is there to talk about?”
“Coo may una vek kia?” he mimicked. “What does that mean?”
“It means you are like an old woman! All you want to do is talk, talk, talk. Enough!”
He skimmed his palms up the sides of her body, cupping her breasts and rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. She arched in a feline response, her bottom pressing him farther into the mattress. It felt so natural to touch her, like she was an extension of him. Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone and enjoy her for as long as it lasted?
Because as surely as she could satisfy his every physical desire, Griffin knew she was going to break his heart. If he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit it had already begun. He had to try to understand why.
“Last night, while we were…while I…”<
br />
“While you were fucking me?”
“Yes.” He frowned at her impatient tone. “You looked at me and you seemed frightened.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I know what I saw.”
“Obviously, you do not.”
He grabbed her shoulders and tumbled her onto her back. He angled over her, propped on his elbows, his waist wedged between her thighs.
“You’re lying to me again.”
She wriggled beneath him. He had to close his eyes to strengthen his resolve. He needed to know what she was hiding from him. He believed it was the reason for her fear and would, ultimately, be the reason for his heartache.
“Stop it, Lillian. Why do you find it so goddamn hard to be honest with me?”
The question got her attention. She went still and looked up at him.
“I don’t know,” she said softly.
He sighed and rolled off of her, pulling her into his arms so they lay side-by-side and face-to-face.
“When you told me about Salvatore, you seemed…I don’t know…wistful? It made me wonder…did you love him?”
“No.” She looked thoughtful. “Of course not.”
“Of course not,” he repeated, an explanation for her quick dismissal whenever the topic came up clicking into place. “Love’s never been a consideration for you, has it?”
“No.”
“You haven’t loved any of the men you’ve been with?”
“No.” She lifted her head, fixing him with a determined stare. “I am not capable of that emotion.”
“‘Not capable’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She dipped her head and began to trace small circles with her middle finger along his collarbone. “It has never made sense to me, even when I was a little girl. Fairytales.” She gave a short, soft laugh. “True love’s kiss? Childish magic. It is an excuse for the inexcusable, an explanation for the inexplicable. Ill-suited couples, abuse, adultery—all justified by love. Why would I waste my time on such nonsense? Especially when I have had such fulfilling relationships built on sound and reasonable emotions, respect, and admiration.” She pressed a kiss to the pulse at the base of his throat. “Honesty.”
Gilding Lillian Page 11