Climax

by Lauren Smith

  “Classes are over, darling. It’s summer. Come and play with me,” Tristan suggested, his hands sliding down her hips and playing with the skirt of the sky-blue sundress she wore.

  Kat closed her eyes, leaning back against him. She never had the power to resist Tristan once he touched her. Spark meet tinder. She laughed softly. There would always be an unquenchable fire between them.

  “The party starts in an hour,” she said. “I need to memorize the forms of address for the peers attending today, or I’ll embarrass you and upset your dad.”

  He exhaled softly against her neck, then spun her around to face him.

  “All you have to do is follow my lead. As for my father…well…” Tristan’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “I think you’ve done the impossible and won the old bastard over. I don’t know how, but I believe he’s starting to like you.” The bemused and puzzled look on Tristan’s face made Kat smile.

  She reached up to trace his lips with her fingertips. He kissed the pads of her fingers, his blue-green eyes bright and glowing.

  It never ceased to amaze Kat how fortunate she was. She’d come so close to losing him in January. Seeing him broken and bruised in that hospital had almost destroyed her, but he’d pulled through. If not for the small scar behind one ear, no one would guess he’d survived a near-fatal car wreck.

  “What are you thinking about?” Tristan asked, tilting her chin up so he could better see her face.

  She grasped his wrist, squeezing lightly as she smiled. “I was just thinking how lucky I am that you’re okay, after the wreck.”

  Shadows flitted across his beautiful eyes. “I’m here, and I’m fine.” It was a promise he’d made so many times in the months that followed the accident, but she never got tired of hearing it.

  “I know.” Kat walked into his arms. She could feel his heat through the three-piece navy blue suit he wore. When she pressed her cheek against his chest, the steady thump-thump of his heart was a comforting sound. His woodsy, clean male scent, with a hint of pine, filled her nose, and she rubbed her face against him.

  “Ahem.” A cool voice cut through the quiet, perfect moment. Tristan’s father stood, rigid as always, in the doorway to Tristan’s bedroom.

  “Yes?” Tristan’s tone was just as cool but lacking the edge it used to have.

  Since the accident things had changed.

  “When you and Katherine are done canoodling like a pair of doves, Carter and Celia need help setting place cards on the tables outside. Elizabeth and Clayton are outside, as well, as you both should be.” He raised one brow in challenge at Tristan, then turned to Kat. “See that he wears his coat, Katherine. I expect you to make him look presentable.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Kat said, heat suffusing her cheeks. Whenever Tristan’s father spoke to her now, she always expected him to be cruel, and was continually surprised he was doing just what Tristan said.

  He’s really warming up to me.

  “Very good.” Edward nodded once and left them alone.

  Tristan growled, but there was no bite to the sound. “One of these days I’m going to put a collar with a bell on him so he can’t keep sneaking up on us like that.”

  Kat giggled and leaned up to kiss Tristan. “He’s rather like an old English ninja, isn’t he?”

  “Bloody nuisance, more like.” Tristan walked over to the bedroom door and closed it, sliding the lock firmly into place. He rolled the cuff back on his left wrist to examine his watch, then raised his gaze to hers, mischief glinting in his eyes.

  “I think I can get inside you and make you come in less than five minutes. Time enough before the old man expects us to be downstairs greeting guests. What say you to that, little stepsister?” He winked devilishly.

  “Oh, no!” Kat raised her hands up to keep him away, but her body was already humming with desire. Being with Tristan was like being near an ever-burning flame. Her body’s hunger for him was only temporarily sated but never extinguished.

  “Oh, yes!” He stalked toward her, cutting a fine figure in his suit. Tall, lean, too sexy for his own good, his dark hair tousled from his hands running through it.

  “We can’t. You’ll mess up my dress.” Kat’s excuse was only halfhearted, as she tried to skirt around the bed.

  “Perhaps a bit, but you won’t mind, not after I’m done fucking you, sweet Kat.” He uttered the words low and deliciously smooth, in that tone that always made her knees buckle.

  When he caught up with her on the other side of the bed, Tristan pinned her wrists against the wall above her head with one hand and kissed her ruthlessly. Then he dropped his other hand to tease the hem of her skirt, stroking her outer thigh.

  “We have all the time in the world,” he whispered against her lips, and little shivers shot through her.

  With a brazen little chuckle, she replied, “But I don’t want to waste it talking.”

  The rich heat in his gaze and the fire of their lips coming together scorched her clear through.

  Drawn together by invisible forces, they would never be apart. They wanted to face their destiny together, whatever it might be.

  “I love you,” he whispered between slow, deep, drugging kisses. He pressed his forehead against hers.

  “I love you, too.” They were no longer words that tore at Kat’s heart; rather, they gave her the strength to fly.

  Behind Tristan on the opposite wall hung the poster of their kiss at the Harrods department store photo shoot. It felt like only yesterday when he’d woken her with a kiss, and their lives would never be the same.

  Once upon a time…I fell in love with Tristan Kingsley, a future earl, my stepbrother, the man who believed our love would conquer all…and he was right.

  Epilogue

  Carter Martin lingered at the edge of the gardens, watching the crowds flutter about the tables. Champagne glasses were never left empty, and the gossip mills were churning. But the topics were lighter this time than they had been in the past. Things had changed since London had embraced Tristan and Kat as their darling couple. A love that would last, a fairy tale.

  Stifling a chuckle, he smoothed his gray suit vest and checked his cuffs before he stepped out into the sunlight, escaping the shadows of the grand country house. He caught sight of Tristan and Kat as they strolled arm in arm toward Clayton and Elizabeth.

  Everything was right in their world now, all smiles and sunshine. An all-too-familiar pang of envy stung him, filtering his world in shades of green. He would never know such peace or joy. Not when the one thing in the world he craved beyond all else was far out of his reach.

  He ran his hands through his hair, tugging hard at the strands until the pain brought him back down to the ground.

  “Carter?” A feminine voice dragged up from the depths of his buried desire stole his breath. He spun around to face the doorway to the servants’ quarters he’d slipped out of only a few minutes before.

  Celia Lynton stood there in a beautiful red gown with a deep V-neck that showed off her collarbone.

  Lord, he’d imagined kissing that place a thousand times, desperate to know if it was sensitive.

  When his gaze lifted to her face, he nearly stumbled back. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her lips were trembling.

  “Celia?” He uttered her name hoarsely. “What’s the matter?”

  Rather than answer him, she reached out, grabbed his tie, and dragged him into the house, slamming the door shut behind them. The sounds of the party were muted, and the servants’ quarters were dim except for a distant light from the other end of the hall. Carter grabbed her shoulders, feeling her soft bare skin beneath his palms. It took everything in him not to lose control.

  “I’ve been seeing Lord Cavanaugh’s son on and off for the last couple of months. It wasn’t serious, not to me.” Her hesitation struck him deep.

  “Celia, what is it? Talk to me,” he urged gently even though his entire body was coiled tight as a metal spring ready to snap.

 
“He proposed today. My parents overhead. They’re already talking about announcing the engagement in a few weeks.” Shadows darkened beneath her eyes as she glanced down at her feet.

  Carter swallowed thickly. He and Tristan had been friends with the Duke of Cavanagh’s son, Callum Radcliffe, at Eton, but Callum had chosen Oxford over Cambridge, and they hadn’t seen much of one another since then. Mostly because Carter didn’t attend the social functions a duke’s son would. The party being held at Pembroke was, of course, an exception.

  “Did you…say yes?” He asked the question even though the answer terrified him.

  Celia stared deep into his eyes, then slowly shook her head. “I didn’t. It all happened so fast. Mum and Dad were there, talking over me. I never actually agreed, but it’s too late. They’re setting everything in motion, and it’s impossible to get out of it. Poor Callum,” she whispered. A stray tear trickled down her cheek.

  “Poor Callum?” Carter growled, and her eyes widened as she gazed up at him. “What about you? You’re not doing this, Celia. Tell me you’ll stop it. He’s a nice bloke, but you can’t marry him. You don’t love him.”

  Her laugh was hollow. “Since when has love ever been much of a choice?”

  Throwing a glance out through the windows by the servants’ door, he nodded at the party. Kat and Tristan were dancing together, laughing.

  “If they can…we can.”

  Tears frosted her brown lashes like diamond dust, and it punched him in the gut.

  “I can’t do that, Carter. I’m not…” She sucked in a little sob. “Uncle Edward supports Tristan’s choice now, but neither of my parents will come around, not now that Callum’s proposed. He’s going to be a duke! My father’s always wanted me to marry up. I can’t get out of this. I just want—” She wiped at her eyes. “I want to be with you, just for a little while before it ends.”

  She didn’t have to say what it was. She meant her happiness.

  “Tell me what I can do to help,” he whispered as she sidled a step closer. Her natural essence enveloped him, drugging him with its feminine aroma. There was a hint of something sweet, like wild orchids, too, a delicate perfume she used on rare occasions. The scent always imprinted upon him when she was near.

  She swallowed thickly, tilted her chin up, and stared at him, eyes bright with a flash of panic.

  “I asked my father if I could visit my aunt Holly for a month. She lives in Tuscany during the summer. I thought…Well, would you come with me?” Celia reached for his hands and clasped them in her own. The intimate touch was so unexpected but so welcome. The first time had been when…we were twelve and we’d hidden in a tree house the groundskeeper built for Tristan. The last time had been when they were racing to the hospital, praying Tristan would survive his injuries from the car wreck.

  “Celia.” He exhaled slowly, every muscle inside him coiled tight with a need to drag her into his arms. “Your father would never—”

  She pressed a fingertip to his lips, silencing him. “He won’t know. Please, Carter.”

  It would be their last chance. Their only chance. The words hung unspoken between them.

  To be with Celia. It was his dream, ever since he’d been a boy. Every thought, every action, they were all for her. How could he deny her anything she wished? How could he deny his own heart?

  He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. The time for waiting was over. If his life were a fairy tale like Tristan’s, his would be Cinderella, the clock ticking faster and faster until the magic vanished at the stroke of midnight and he’d be left alone in a kitchen of cinders, a prince no more.

  Her lips were soft and her face wet with her tears. He’d never kissed a woman who’d just been crying moments before.

  “Everything is going to be all right. I promise,” he murmured against her lips. It was the first kiss in a long time that made his head a little fuzzy and a cottony warmth spread from his heart outward. She shivered in his arms, as though nervous and a little frightened, but her lips were smiling against his. They hadn’t kissed since they were fourteen. So much had changed, and it was as though he was learning about her lips all over again.

  When they broke apart, he stroked her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs and she clasped his wrists with her hands, clinging to him.

  “What time do we leave?” he asked.

  Celia bit her bottom lip, then replied. “As soon as the party is over.”

  A month…Well, classes were over, but could he leave his father alone to tend to the estate?

  “What’s the matter?” Celia whispered.

  “It’s my father. He has so much to take care of. If I leave him for that long…” He closed his eyes for a brief instant before opening them again.

  “Tell Tristan, no one else. He can help us. I know he’ll help us.” She cupped his face and stood up on her tiptoes to feather her lips over his again.

  The kiss, although light, sent bolts of violent hunger shooting through his body. His hands grasped her waist, dragging her to him as he deepened the kiss. Carter knew in that moment he could never get enough of her.

  “You’re right. He will help us.” Tristan was his best friend and knew more than anyone else what it was like to love someone forbidden.

  “I have to go.” Celia’s gaze darted around. “I’ll meet you at the airport tomorrow morning. I’ll text you the gate. My father is letting me take the private jet.” She squeezed his hand one more time, but he ached for her to kiss him. Her sad little smile told him what he already knew. If they kissed again, they might not be able to stop.

  “See you soon.” He watched her vanish out of the servants’ entrance, back into the party. He collapsed against the wall. Dropping his head back, Carter focused on breathing and calming down. Tomorrow he was going to Italy with Celia. For an entire month, just the two of them.

  Tick-tock, tick-tock.

  About the Author

  LAUREN SMITH was born and raised in Tulsa. She attended Oklahoma State University, where she earned a BA in both history and political science. Drawn to paintings and museums, Lauren is obsessed with antiques and satisfies her fascination with history by writing and exploring exotic, ancient lands.

  Please see the next page for an excerpt from Forbidden

  Chapter 1

  Tonight is the start of my grand adventure. And since it’s my birthday, you guys are welcome to join in the fun.” Kat Roberts grinned as she spread out the folded piece of paper on the table so her friends Lacy and Mark could see.

  They were nestled in the corner of the Pickerel Inn just outside Magdalene College in Cambridge, catching a brief break from studying for exams. The pub was full of other students, all enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and the fish and chips the pub served late into the night.

  “What on earth is that?” Lacy asked as she brushed her hair back from her face and peered at the list.

  Kat tapped the paper. “A list of ten things every undergraduate should do while studying and living in Cambridge. Number one? Drink a glass of Nelson’s Revenge at the Pickerel Inn pub on Magdalene Street.”

  Mark, Lacy’s boyfriend, chuckled. “Have too many Nelsons and he’ll definitely get his revenge. You Americans aren’t used to our stout ales.”

  Kat was only half-listening as she studied the list, contemplating the other suggestions it gave. She’d moved to England in August to start college while her dad worked in London, and now more than ever she wanted to do something wild, something fun and crazy. Her parents had divorced when she was a kid, and she’d been living with her father, whose job entailed frequent corporate moves. She’d been too afraid to get close to people and break out of her shell. She didn’t want to make connections with people only to have to leave and never see them again. It reminded her too much of when her mother had left.

  But that’s all changed. I’m finally living in one place for three years. I’m making friends here. Roots. For the first time I can really live.

  Now sh
e yearned for an adventure. She wasn’t used to being wild and crazy or doing things out of her comfort zone, but she wanted to be that way.

  Baby steps, she had to remind herself. That’s why she’d picked this list from an online article about attending school in Cambridge. It had fun things for her to do. Things she might not have otherwise tried. Now that she’d settled into her classes and schoolwork, she could focus on enjoying the whole college experience. She’d picked an easy item from the list first—drinking a pint here at the Pickerel—but she’d work her way up to the bigger items soon.

  Mark leaned forward, his elbows propped on the old wooden table. “Is this really all we get to do to help you celebrate your nineteenth birthday?”

  “He’s right, Kat. We should be doing something really fun tonight. Like going clubbing!” Lacy curved her lips in a charming but teasing smile that under other circumstances would’ve made Kat laugh.

  “Clubbing? Lacy, you know I can’t dance. I’d fall flat on my face. Maybe if I drink enough you can talk me into it.” Kat winked at her friend and gulped down more of the cider and beer blend she had ordered. It wasn’t strong, but she wanted to get warmed up before going for the Nelson’s Revenge.

  Lacy grinned. “You’re officially nineteen, and as this is your first semester at college, we need to make something amazing happen. Leave high school behind. This is your chance. Let’s go dancing, meet some hot guys.” She jerked her head suggestively toward a nearby table where a group of decent-looking men were watching them, pints in hand and friendly smiles on their faces. She nudged Mark in the ribs. “Right?” She winked.

  Mark put an arm around Lacy’s shoulders and shook his head, silently laughing. “You have a hot guy right here for you, no need to find a new one,” he teased.

  Lacy rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, for Kat. She needs some action.”

  Kat couldn’t disagree. She’d never really dated in high school since she and her dad had moved every couple of years. Maybe Lacy was right. Now was the time to give it a try.