“Yes?” Resting on one elbow, he slid a hand through her silky hair and drew one leg over her body, pressing himself against her until it almost hurt. “What is it?”
She arched toward him with a small provocative smile. “Nothing. I just wanted to say your name.”
He sighed, and his warm breath shivered along her flesh. “You make me feel very special.”
His trembling hands slowly made their way down over her stomach to release the button of her jeans and slowly slide the zipper down.
“Now I want to make you feel very good.” He moved lower to place soft, moist kisses on the quivering flesh around her navel.
She looked down at his dark head, lustrous in the moonlight and felt a shuddering erotic thrill at his enjoyment of her body.
“It’s my turn.” At her murmur he raised his head with a questioning look. “It’s my turn to play.”
She pushed herself up into a sitting position and Michael sank back on his haunches. Rising to her knees, she reached out to unbutton his shirt. He just knelt there watching her with burning intensity and a small smile on his lips.
With the last button undone, she pulled the shirt out of his pants and pushed it open to splay her hands over his chest. His skin felt so supple and silken, so hot against her palms. Slowly she caressed the smooth muscled contours, brushing his nipples. His muscles flexed involuntarily beneath her touch. He was too irresistible.
She leaned forward to take one of his nipples into her mouth, where it instantly tightened into a hard, tiny little bud. A hunger she didn’t know she possessed made her ravish it with her tongue, her lips, her teeth.
With a quick, sharp, almost painful gasp, he sucked in his breath. She glanced up to see his head thrown back, the strong column of his throat exposed to the silver light. With a groan she surged up, unable to resist pressing her lips against the warm flesh of his neck.
Reaching down, she spread her hand over the hard bulge in the front of his pants and felt an instant surge of heat tighten low in her belly as he thrust himself against her.
It was like a pagan ritual in the moonlight. The rhythmic rush of the water, the breeze sighing through the leaves and the small murmured groans of desire.
His hands feverishly caressed her breasts, her skin. She slipped her hand beneath his waistband and her fingers closed around his hard, smooth length. His sharp hiss became a groan of pure pain that brought a smile to her lips as she caressed him with slow, excruciating strokes.
He suddenly grasped her hand. “If you keep that up I’ll ruin a perfectly good pair of jeans.”
She heard the choked laughter in his voice and murmured, “So what? You can afford another.”
With that she shoved him back so that he toppled over, until he was resting on his elbows, legs stretched out in front of him. With impatient, rough hands she yanked his jeans down far enough to expose his erection.
Never, ever had she been so utterly abandoned, but she wanted to give him ecstasy, to see his face and know that he felt the way she did when he did this to her.
Unbounded love for him flowed through every vein as her hand curved around him, sliding back and forth on his velvety smoothness.
A soft anguished groan came from his throat. “Enough.” On a sharp breath he pulled her up and took her mouth in a famished, feverish kiss, rolling her underneath him at the same time.
“But I wanted more,” she breathed against his lips.
“And you’re going to get more.” He gave her a smile as his hands slid down her back, until he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her jeans and pulled them off, so that they were pressed, flesh to flesh. “Much more,” he said as he rolled over again and his strong hands lifted her into position above him.
Her groan mingled with a sigh as she slid down over him, her body opening and enfolding him as if she had waited all her life for this moment.
Moving together, their lips joined, she felt his hands everywhere, caressing, cupping her breasts, his fingers teasing the nipples until she was writhing in ecstasy.
“I’ve never felt this way with any woman before,” he gasped against her lips. “I want this night to go on forever.”
When his release came, she clung to him, shuddering, but he kept on moving in her until she finally cried out as waves of convulsive pleasure swamped her. Finally she collapsed on him, resting her forehead against his, feeling her heartbeat slow with his.
Her tongue darted out to lick his lips. The erotic gesture made him shudder. With a soft laugh he murmured, “You’re bad....”
She allowed her fingers to trail delicately over his chest, loving the feel of his satiny skin, the hardness of his nipples, the way his body reacted to her touch. “And you’re delicious,” she responded, slightly shocked once again by her boldness. Perhaps it was the moonlight. But whatever it was, she never wanted the magic to end.
For a long time only the soft lapping of the water broke the silence. But all too soon the breeze freshened, creeping through the pines to chill her heated flesh.
His fingers traced over the goose bumps on her thigh. “I think it’s time we got dressed.”
She sat up and he reached for her sweatshirt. She felt too utterly spent with pleasure to do anything but watch him as he helped her into her clothing, a smile plastered across her face.
Finally, hand in hand, they wandered back out onto the beach, and made their way slowly up toward the house. Michael pulled her against him as they walked. She leaned her head on his shoulder and put her arm around his waist. It felt so right, so natural to be there.
“Well, Sabrina, where do we go from here?”
She raised her head to look up at him, but she didn’t know what to say. His face was so serious and intent on her.
“I’m not going to let you tell me that there’s no future in this for us....”
“Michael...”
He stopped in front of the cottage and turned toward her, holding her hands. “Sabrina, you can’t deny what’s happening between us. My God, what happened back there wasn’t just sex, a roll in the hay.”
She giggled. “Well, it was sort of a roll in the grass.”
He broke into an unwilling smile. “Will you be serious?”
Then he curved a hand around her chin and stared down into her eyes. The smile left his face, replaced by something more intense as he lowered his head to hers. “Never mind,” he murmured against her lips. “We’ll be serious later.”
For a long time only the soft whisper of the wind broke the silence as she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him in a warm, possessive kiss.
“What are you doing? What’s going on here?”
Sabrina froze at the sound of Colin’s strangled voice.
10
MICHAEL JERKED AWAY from her while Sabrina could only stare at Colin’s stricken face, icy pale in the moonlight.
“How could you?” The words tore out of him. “You did this on purpose to hurt me.”
“Colin...son.”
“Don’t you call me son.” His fine-drawn features contorted in revulsion.
“Let’s just calm down and discuss this.” Michael reached for him, but Colin flinched away from his father’s outstretched hands.
“No...” He shook his head. “No. All my life you never really wanted me. It was all an act to ease your guilty conscience.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. My grandmother told me so.”
Michael squeezed his eyelids closed and turned away for a moment with such an agonized expression that Sabrina felt as if she’d been stabbed in the heart. When he opened his eyes again she caught the gleam of tears.
“Your grandmother was mistaken.” His voice was very quiet but she heard the devastation, saw it in his face.
Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. How could Sybil have done something so hateful to her own son?
“Then you came back, expecting to change my life around because that’s the wa
y you want it. And now this. You don’t care about Sabrina. You just want her because I’m in love with her.”
She gasped and quickly looked at Michael, to see him staring at his son, stricken. Moving between them, she reached out and put a hand on Colin’s forearm. Beneath her fingers she could feel him taut and trembling.
“Colin, you know that’s not true. You’re not in love with me.”
He dragged his gaze away from his father’s face and looked down at her. Something in his chilled expression tore her apart. “No, Sabrina. You’re the one who doesn’t want to accept it. Why? Because I’m just a kid and I can’t fall in love or have any feelings?”
She became aware that tears were rolling down her cheeks. “I don’t think that at all. Of course you have feelings. But maybe what you think is love is—”
“No, I don’t want to listen to any more. How could you do this to me, Sabrina? I’ll never forgive you. Never. I’ll hate you both till the day I die.” He choked out the last word on a sob, then turned and began running, stumbling down the rocks toward the beach.
Sabrina went to follow. “I should talk to him.” Then she felt Michael’s trembling hand on her arm.
“Let him go. He needs time to think. And then I should be the one to talk to him.”
“Of course. You’re right.” She took a deep breath as she turned to him, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “What a mess. How are we going to convince Colin that he doesn’t really love me?”
He slowly shook his head, never taking his anguished gaze from hers. “How are we going to convince Colin that I love you, and I want to marry you?”
For a moment she could only stare up at his features, lean and shadowed in the moonlight, before whispering, “Marry?”
He framed her face with his long fingers, tenderly stroking her damp cheekbones with his thumbs as he smiled down at her with gentle mockery. “Of course, marry. What do you think this has been about all this time?”
Her vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears again. She covered his hands with hers and shook her head slightly. “But why me, Michael?”
“Why you? Because I’ve never met anyone like you before. Your bravery, your reckless sense of loyalty, your generous heart...your sweetness.”
“So far, you make me sound like a Boy Scout.” She gave a shaky laugh.
“And then when I’m near you...” He let out a deep breath as if he didn’t know where to begin. “It’s like I go up in flames. And when I kiss you, it’s like I’ve never been kissed before. Do you know what it’s like to be in a business meeting, being asked a question I can’t answer because I’m thinking about you? Or even worse, sitting there with a hard-on. Do you know what that’s like?”
She had to laugh through the tears. “Not really.”
“Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?” He smiled, but then he sobered. “If you don’t marry me soon, I’ll go out of my mind.” He began covering her face with small kisses, murmuring, “And you’re too sweet and generous to allow that to happen.”
Was this really happening, or would she wake any second to find it had only been a cruel, heartbreaking dream?
Suddenly the brutal roar of a powerful motor tore through the silence.
Michael jerked upright. “Colin!” he exclaimed, his voice as sharp and rigid as his body. And then he was moving away from her so quickly that she reeled from the loss of support of his arms.
By the time she regained her balance and was running after him, Michael had reached the end of the dock, shouting his son’s name as the sleek racing vessel shot off over the moonlit water.
She reached him a second later, panting for breath. “Oh, Michael, you don’t think he’s going to do anything foolish, do you?”
The running lights of the boat became red-and-white sparks in the distance, swiftly disappearing in the direction of the mainland.
“God, I hope not.” He turned and strode quickly toward the steps that led up to the house. Sabrina ran after him.
Halfway up they met Anya, still rumpled from sleep and tying the sash of her robe as she hurried down to meet them. “What’s happening?”
“No time to explain.” Michael broke into a run as he went past her, throwing back the clipped order, “Get packed. We’re leaving.”
As they followed him up to the cottage, Sabrina told Anya that Colin had gone and she gave a sketchy explanation. They found Michael pacing the living room with his cellular phone clutched tightly against his ear.
“Come on, damn it. Answer.”
Sabrina dashed upstairs as she heard him burst into rapid speech. Twenty minutes later, with the sleepy caretaker at the wheel, they were speeding across the lake.
* * *
SABRINA HUNG ON to the pole and waited for the rattling streetcar to come to a halt. The back doors creaked open, she stepped out onto the pavement and the cold air hit her face.
Indian summer was over, along with all her hopes and happiness. Hunching her shoulders against the nip in the air, she pushed her hands into her jacket pocket and rushed down University Avenue toward Toronto General Hospital.
Please, God, let Charlie be all right. His daughter Marie had said it was only a mild stroke, and for a man in his late seventies he was in excellent health, but she just couldn’t take it if something happened to Charlie, on top of everything else.
Colin hadn’t returned home. Michael had called to tell her he would be away for a few days trying to track his son down. Worried sick about them, she’d gone to call Charlie, only to hear from Marie that he’d been taken to hospital. She dashed in the main doors, inquired at the front desk and was directed to a room on the seventh floor.
Her suede boots squeaked on the polished yellow linoleum as she rushed down the corridor. Passing an open doorway, she heard the click of table-tennis balls and a gentle, familiar voice.
“My point, I believe.”
She stopped in her tracks and peered in the doorway. The large sunny room had tall windows giving a view of the skyline. In one corner sat a television, facing two couches and several easy chairs, and at the other end of the room stood a Ping-Pong table.
Charlie was dressed in pyjamas and a plaid bathrobe, but he hadn’t lost one iota of his distinguished bearing. His snowy hair was carefully brushed, his mustache neatly trimmed.
The short middle-aged man across the table grinned at him. “I’m gonna quit. You’ve been practising too much.”
Charlie caught sight of her standing in the doorway. “Why, Sabrina! I wasn’t expecting you back till tonight.”
A wave of heartfelt relief swept over her. She’d been terrified of finding Charlie at death’s door. And now, to her undying embarrassment, she found herself bursting into tears.
He came over, took her arm and gently led her to his room, past the stares of nurses and other patients. Somehow, after all the emotional turmoil she’d been through, it was all too much.
Charlie settled her in a chair beside the bed, handed her a handkerchief from his pocket and she buried her face in the fresh white cotton. He sank quietly into the other chair and waited calmly for the storm to pass.
After a while she began to regain control, took a deep shaky breath and blew her nose into the handkerchief. “I thought you were dying. I rush over here and what do I find? You’re playing table tennis of all things!”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
She batted the handkerchief at him and laughed weakly as fresh tears coursed down her cheek. “You know what I mean.”
He poured a glass of water from the jug by the bed and handed it to her. “Are you feeling any better now?”
She took a sip, hiccuped and nodded. “Charlie, don’t you ever do that to me again.”
Taking the glass from her, he patted her hand. “There, there, girlie. Everything’s fine.”
“This has been the worst weekend of my life.”
“The holiday didn’t work out too well?”
“That�
�s an understatement. And then you go and pull a stunt like this!”
“Now, now. Don’t go getting yourself all worked up. I’m fine. Tell me about your weekend.”
“It’s a long story and I won’t burden you with all the grisly details right now.”
But that was the wrong thing to say to Charlie. After a few gentle questions and perceptive guesses, he had her telling him almost everything.
He didn’t offer solutions or pass judgments, just listened. And she realized how much she had needed to pour it all out to someone who cared. Then she resolutely put it aside and concentrated on him.
He was annoyed at his doctor’s insistence on more tests; it meant remaining in hospital for a few days when he felt perfectly fine. But Sabrina was glad to know he was getting good care. She left the hospital, promising to return tomorrow and spend as many hours with him as visiting time allowed.
The rest of the day passed without a word from Michael and on Monday morning she hurried to work, hoping against hope that he might be there, but once again she was disappointed. What could be happening? Had he found Colin?
It was hard to keep her mind on work as she stood on top of a ladder, hanging the final snowflakes around Santa’s Castle. The area was closed off until the day of the parade, and there was no one there except herself and two workmen laying the red carpet that led up to Santa’s throne. It was too quiet, with no distractions from her worried thoughts.
Suddenly the ladder jolted beneath her and began to tip. At the same moment she heard a surprised grunt from below.
“You fool, why don’t you watch where you’re going!” she yelled, grabbing for the foam snowflake, but it came away in her hand.
Wildly she threw her weight in the opposite direction, and the ladder tipped back upright. But her foot slipped on the tread, she lost her balance and went sliding down the side of the rungs, the friction burning her knees through her pants. She landed hard on something wide and padded.
Angry and shaken, she looked down between her thighs to see a round red face, jowls quivering in outrage like a Tom turkey.
Man Under the Mistletoe Page 17