by Lila Dubois
Caera shifted, goose bumps breaking out on her naked body. She was lying curled against Tim on a pool chair. From the feel of it, the newly delivered chair was still wrapped in plastic. Beside her, Tim’s breathing was slow and even.
Caera slipped out of his arms. Grabbing the first dry article of clothing she found—Tim’s shirt—she slipped it on and tiptoed out of the pool house. The night was cold and clear. Her toes pinched with pain as she dashed across the gardens to the side entrance of the west wing. It was late and all the hotel room doors were closed, so Caera was able to sneak to the housekeeping closet near the elevator without seeing anyone.
Towels pressed to her chest, she raced back, wincing as stones in the path dug into her cold feet.
A light flicked on in the pool house. The small ball of light was faint, as if it came from a lighter. Tim must have woken. A second light appeared. The twin flames wavered and danced in an uncertain pattern. Caera drew in a breath. That wasn’t Tim with a lighter. That was something else.
Fear clawing at her, Caera sprinted the rest of the way, heedless of the damage to her feet. There were things in Glenncailty that no scientist would ever be able to explain but that were real and dangerous. She hadn’t thought this building was haunted, at least not after it was gutted.
She burst through the door.
The lights hovered over the pool, their reflections on the surface of the water making it appear as if there were four. Wary, Caera edged along the wall towards Tim. She’d gone no more than five steps when the lights froze, then zoomed towards his sleeping form.
“Tim!” Caera shouted his name and ran.
Tim jerked up, head whipping around as he looked for her. There was a split second when his startled face was illuminated by the lights, which were on a collision course with his chest. Just before they would have touched him, they blinked out.
“Caera?” He stood, naked body silhouetted against the wall of glass doors.
Her heartbeat slowed, though adrenaline still coursed through Caera.
“I brought towels.” She handed him one.
Tim took a towel from the stack she held and wrapped it around her shoulders. He dropped to his knee and used a second towel to rub her legs before wrapping it around her waist “Did you see something? Were you calling me?”
Caera looked down at him, unsure how to handle the caring attention. She took a towel and hesitantly draped it around his shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome.” He didn’t seem to notice how odd she found being cared for. “Did you shine a flashlight at me or something? I could have sworn I saw lights and heard people talking, and then you were here.” His eyes widened in comprehension. “Was that a ghost?”
Caera looked away, not sure how to deal with his delighted horror. After a moment, she realized she didn’t know what to say, and settled for quoting Shakespeare. “‘Now it is the time of night that the graves, all gaping wide, every one lets forth his sprite.’”
Chapter Six
The Light
Caera looked at the pool, grimacing. Somewhere at the bottom were a variety of clothing items she couldn’t see. Her wet clothes from the pool deck were bundled in one of the towels while she wore a second towel around her chest along with her pants. She’d found her shoes. Tim stood behind her wearing his shirt and a towel, staring at the dark water. “It’s late,” she told him. “You should take yourself to bed.”
“We should both go to bed. Together.” He rubbed her upper arms, his chest at her back warm and solid.
Caera shook her head. “Ah, no. That wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“Why?”
“I have to go.” Caera twisted away from him, slipping on her wet shoes.
“We have a deal.”
Caera stilled. She shouldn’t see him again, certainly shouldn’t touch him again. She hadn’t meant to touch him the first time. Sorcha had one-night affairs with men all the time, but the romances never survived until morning, as much as the men might want them to. If Sorcha could brush men off, then she could too.
“What was said in the water was passion, nothing more.” Caera headed for the door.
“We had a deal.” Tim, not unexpectedly, stopped her with a hand on her hip.
Caera didn’t turn to face him. His touch made her entire body tingle with longing. She’d be lost if she looked at him. “You blackmailed me.”
“Yep.”
His unrepentant attitude startled a laugh from her.
“I’m not done with you, Caera Cassidy.”
“And if I’m done with you, Tim Wilcox?”
“That’s too damn bad.”
Caera sighed as if resigned, but she was thrilled. She wanted him again, still. “Very well.”
“You know…” he stepped up behind her, pulling her hair to the side so he could breathe his words against her neck, “…you’re not fooling anyone. You want this as much as I do.”
Caera tipped her head back against his shoulder. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe.”
“Yes.”
“Morning.” Though she longed to turn in his arms and kiss him, Caera stepped away, twisted to face him. She’d conceded enough.
Tim was smiling, a devilish look of mischief and cunning. “I look forward to it.”
Caera tipped her chin. “You’ll come to me.”
“Okay, what room are you in?”
Caera’s lips twitched. “Your bargain didn’t include my telling you that. And you can’t go asking people. This is my job, and they can’t know we were together.”
He nodded once. “You won’t tell me?”
“No.”
“And if I don’t find you by say, 2 P.M., the deal is off?”
“You said morning. If you don’t find me by noon, it’s off.”
“I accept your challenge.” Tim bowed, like a knight of old.
Caera looked him up and down one last time, in case she didn’t get to see him mostly naked again, then slipped out the doors and into the night.
Tim cursed as he rattled the back door of the pub. It was locked, as were all the other doors that exited onto the garden. Finding his way in the dark hadn’t been fun, though it had given him a chance to marvel on the brightness of the Irish stars and moon.
He’d tried every door on the back of the hotel—all three buildings—and now he had no choice but to circle around to the front. Knowing his luck, the front doors would be locked too.
The crunch of gravel quieted as he stepped off the path, hugging the wall as he circled the east wing. He was freezing in his wet pants and shoes, but he didn’t mind so much; at least it wasn’t snowing.
Part of him still couldn’t believe what had happened. He would never have guessed that the quiet, controlled Caera would go off the deep end, literally. There was something dark and wild in her. He’d tasted it in her kiss, on her skin.
He’d slept with, even dated, wild women—those girls who danced on bars, insisted on having sex on the hood of the car instead of in it and lived to say “I’ll try anything once.” The ones he’d known all had something in common—confidence. Their rock-solid confidence had made them incredibly appealing and made even the stupidest, most dangerous ideas seem like nothing more than sexy fun.
Caera hadn’t been like that.
There was something painfully vulnerable about her, despite her crazy sex-in-the-pool plan. He wanted to hold her and protect her, while simultaneously having sex with her until she couldn’t remember anything but his hands on her. As hot as the sex in the pool had been, it wasn’t enough. He liked to see the woman he was with, to watch her, understand what she liked. Because Caera was so hard to understand, so difficult to read, he hadn’t been sure what she liked, what she wanted, beyond a good fuck. There were times, places and women designed for a good fuck. Caera was more than that, though she hadn’t liked it when he said so. He wanted to watch her face, hear her breathing, as he explored every
inch of her skin. To do that, he had to find her, and fast. The first order of business was to get inside, shower and catch a few hours of sleep.
Tim mounted the steps to the front door. Holding his breath, he pushed. For one desperate moment, nothing happened, but then the massive door inched inward. Tim slid in, closing the door behind him.
Shower, sleep, then find Caera.
He wasn’t coming. It was eleven and there had been no sign of Tim. Caera pulled her jumper closed over her breasts and sighed. She was both disappointed and relieved. Her inner thighs and arms, as well as muscles within her lower body, were sore from the excursion in the pool. Not telling him where she lived had been a sure way of keeping him from finding her. The cottage she shared with Sorcha wasn’t on any of the Glenncailty guest maps and was not visible from the hotel.
Still, part of her had hoped that he’d—
“Anyone home?”
Caera jumped in her seat. For a moment she was frozen, shocked and thrilled at the same time. Tim’s voice came from outside, followed by a knock on the door.
Gathering herself, Caera stood, her long cardigan falling open to reveal the simple jersey skirt and soft top she wore beneath. She touched her hair, pulled back in a clip. She hadn’t dressed nice or put on make-up, because if she had that would have been admitting to herself that she was waiting for him.
She opened the door.
“Tim.”
“Caera.”
He wore jeans and his black leather jacket. A scarf wrapped his neck and his hands were in gloves. His hair fluttered in the wind.
“You found me,” she said simply.
“It’s taken me most of the morning.”
Caera could see the pink on his cheeks, the dark hems of his pants where he’d walked through grass still wet with rain and dew.
“You didn’t have to come.” Caera felt guilty that he’d wandered over Glenncailty’s grounds looking for her.
“Have to?” Tim caught her bare hand in one of his gloved ones. “I wanted to. Needed to.”
He stepped into the little cottage, herding her back as he closed the door. They were in the kitchen, which was dim despite the hour. Nestled as it was amid the trees, the tiny cottage’s windows didn’t let in much light.
“Were you hoping I wouldn’t come?”
Caera took a step back, suddenly nervous. “No.”
“So you were hoping I’d find you.”
“Ah, I never said that.”
“Close enough.” He cupped her cheek, and Caera jumped at the touch. He’d taken off his glove, and his fingers were warm against her cheek.
“You’re frightened—why?”
“I’m not frightened.”
“Nervous, then.”
Caera shrugged. “If you will.”
He took his hand from her cheek, and Caera shifted foot to foot, looking at the worn tile floor.
“Are you uncomfortable with a man initiating sex?”
“What?” Caera jerked her head up, stunned by his blunt question.
Tim was totally at ease, hands now tucked casually into the front pockets of his jeans. “Last night you initiated the sex and didn’t seem nervous at all. This morning I’ve initiated it by showing up, and you seem uncomfortable.”
“Do you always talk like this?”
“Like this? You mean about sex?” Tim grinned. “Yes. I like to know what my lover’s comfortable with.”
“You can’t go talking like that.” Her cheeks were hot. Caera turned to the counter. She filled the kettle, turned it on, moving out of habit more than a desire for fresh tea.
“Will you answer my question?”
Caera pulled down two clean mugs, dropped Barry’s Tea bags into them. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never thought about it before.”
“So if I did this…” Tim stepped up behind her, pressing his hips against her ass. He brushed her hair away from her neck and lightly kissed her below the ear. “You’d be okay with it?”
Caera melted. She didn’t know how else to describe it, but that she melted in his arms. Her eyes closed, her hands falling from the mugs to lie open on the counter. She leaned back into his chest. His arms snaked around her, holding her by the waist.
Kisses feathered up her neck, over her jaw to her cheek. She put her hands over his at her waist, pressing them harder against her.
He’d asked her if she was uncomfortable having a man initiate sex. She didn’t have an answer because she didn’t know. She both enjoyed and hated sex, despising what she’d done in the past and the desires that still lived within her.
“I’m…okay with it.” Her words were breathy, her pulse skipping.
“Good.”
Tim turned her in his arms. She pressed her palms to his chest, flexing her fingers so the leather gave, allowing her to test the firm body beneath.
Tim smoothed the hair away from her face, searching her features. “You’re beautiful.”
Caera lowered her gaze to his scarf, studying the knit weave with more intensity than it deserved, because she didn’t want to know what he saw when he looked at her.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“Beauty is something you do. Looks mean little.”
“I wasn’t talking about the way you look.” He tipped her chin up. “You are beautiful.”
Tears tightened the back of her throat. Caera took a deep breath, fighting down the terrifyingly strong emotions he drew from her. She didn’t want to cry, she wanted this wonderful man, who saw something in her she no longer saw in herself, to touch her, to love her, if only for a moment or two.
Lifting on to her toes, Caera brought her lips to his, squeezing her eyes closed as she focused on that moment, that feeling. Tim seemed to understand that she wanted touch, not talk, and obliged. His hands on her waist slid into her open cardigan, rubbing the soft fabric of her top against her skin.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue touching the seam of her lips. She opened her mouth, allowing his invasion. He tasted like the wind and salt, almost as if he’d journeyed across the sea to find her, rather than wandering the glen.
Now his hands were under her shirt, causing the muscles of her belly to ripple. He was still wearing one glove, and the warm leather felt amazing against her skin. His fingers crept up to her bra, the seams of the glove scraping over the lace, her nipples tightening within the prison of fabric. Caera broke the kiss, tipping her head back to expose her neck.
Tim transferred his attention there, licking the spot below her ear and then blowing over the damp flesh.
“That feels so good,” Caera gasped.
“I can think of a few things that will feel better.”
Ignoring her soft sound of protest, Tim drew his hands from beneath her shirt. He pushed her sweater from her shoulders, then tugged her top up and off. As her hair fell over her bare shoulders, she reached for his scarf, wanting to undress him. Tim stopped her, pushing her hands down, then hooked two fingers in her skirt, tugging it down her hips until it pooled on the floor with her sweater.
His eyes raked her. “I was sad I didn’t get to see this last night.”
“I want to see you too.”
“Later. Right now, I want to see you.”
Grabbing her by the hips, Tim lifted her. Caera wrapped her arms and legs around him as he carried her over to the table. Setting her down, he lowered her shoulders so she lay back across the table, her body his to feast upon. Her legs were still wrapped around his hips as he lowered himself over her. He took the tip of her breast into his mouth, sucking her nipple through the lace.
“Take off your bra.”
Lifting herself with one hand, Caera reached back and opened the clasp of her bra. Pulling the straps forward onto her upper arms, she lay back, leaving the cups of the bra in place.
Tim pulled her bra off, exposing her to his eyes and mouth. He took the tips of her breasts in his lips again, sucking and biting her nipples as his gloved hand ventured dow
n her body to the apex of her thighs. He touched her sex through the thin cotton of her panties. Parting the lips of her sex, he rubbed her clit, pinching a fold of fabric and using it to abrade her sensitive flesh.
Caera’s fingers dug into the wood of the table, her nails scraping over the grain.
“How does that feel?” he whispered against her breastbone.
“Good, so, ah, good.”
Tim straightened and unwrapped her legs from his lower body. Together, they removed her panties, but as Caera began to wrap her legs around him again Tim held her legs together, folding them towards her body.
“Hold your ankles.”
Bewildered but trusting, Caera grabbed her calves, her thighs pressed against her belly, knees at her breasts.
Tim dropped to one knee. He stroked the backs of her legs, from the bend of her knee to her ass. His thumbs brushed the lips of her sex, parting them. One thumb dipped into her, spreading her moisture over the inner lips up to her clit. Gripping her ass, he dipped his head to her pussy.
Pleasure wracked her as his lips, tongue and teeth worked the lips of her sex, then moving deeper to her clit. Her legs trembled, her hands sweaty on her calves as she held her legs.
One gloved finger slipped into her sex. She was so tight with her need for him she could feel the seam of his glove as it slipped into her. He pumped into her, adding a second finger, while his tongue worked her clit.
The intimacy of his mouth, contrasted with the clinical distance of the gloves and his fully dressed state made her feel powerless—in the best way.
She was close to orgasm when he stopped.
Caera groaned. “No, don’t stop.”
“This time we’re doing this together from the start.”
Caera wasn’t even sure what he meant, but when he drew her off the table she followed. Standing beside him, she plucked at his clothes. This time he allowed her to undress him. He didn’t help her, but stood still, watching her as she pushed off his jacket and shirt, stripping away his glove and scarf. When she knelt to remove his shoes and pants, he touched her head.