Summer Kisses

by Sarah Morgan

  ‘I am not naïve. I’m not naïve, Conner.’ There was tearing agony inside her. He was going to walk away from her again. ‘Would it make a difference if I told you that I’m not a virgin? Is that what’s worrying you?’

  He inhaled sharply and turned away, his profile tense. ‘Don’t tell me that.’

  ‘I just thought it might make a difference.’

  A muscle worked in his cheek. ‘It doesn’t. And you might find this hard to believe, but the desire not to hurt you is the reason I walked away. And it’s the reason I’m about to walk away again. Because there are some rules that even I won’t break.’ He ran a hand over his face and then strode out of the room, leaving her shaking so badly that she could hardly stand.

  He wanted her?

  She sank onto her chair, staring at the door. He’d pulled back out of consideration for her? He didn’t find her repulsive?

  She wasn’t ‘boring Flora’?

  Her fragile, bruised confidence recovered slightly and her mind started to race.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CONNER lay sprawled on the huge sofa in the barn, mindlessly flicking through the sports channels on the television. On the floor next to him was a bottle of whisky and a half-filled glass. He stared at it blankly and was just about to pick up the bottle and do what needed to be done when someone hammered hard on the front door.

  Conner reached for the remote control and increased the volume on the television, determined to ignore whoever it was who mistakenly believed that he might be in need of company.

  There was no second knock, so he picked up the whisky bottle, satisfied that his unwelcome visitor had decided to go and bother someone else.

  He stared at the television screen for a moment, too emotionally drained to find an alternative mode of entertainment. After a few moments some deep-seated instinct warned him that he wasn’t alone and he turned his head slowly.

  Flora stood in the doorway.

  She was wearing a coat belted at the waist and raindrops glistened like diamonds on her dark hair. ‘You didn’t answer your door.’

  Whisky sloshed over his shirt and it took him a moment to reply, the speed of his mind and his tongue dulled by the shock of seeing her there. ‘I didn’t feel like company.’

  ‘Well, that’s tough because there are things I need to say to you.’ She stepped into the room, her eyes burning with a fire that he’d never seen before. ‘That was quite a speech you made earlier, Conner MacNeil. You said a lot of things.’

  What was she doing here? ‘They were things that needed saying.’

  ‘I agree. And I’ve been thinking about those things.’ She breathed in and out, her chest rising and falling under her raincoat. ‘You’ve made a lot of assumptions about me.’ Water clung to her eyelashes and cheeks and her hair, as dark as mahogany, curled around her face. She looked pretty and wholesome and he had to force himself not to look at her soft mouth.

  If he looked, he was lost.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here, Flora.’

  Her eyes slid to the whisky bottle. ‘Oh, Conner…’ Her gentle, sympathetic tone scratched against his nerve endings.

  ‘Go home.’

  ‘Why? Because you’re drunk?’

  He licked his lips and discovered they were dry. ‘I’m not drunk.’

  But she didn’t seem to be listening. It was as if she was in the middle of a rehearsed speech. ‘You’re worried in case you lose control and behave badly?’ She stepped closer, the blaze in her eyes intensifying. ‘What would you say if I told you that I want you to behave badly, Conner? In fact, I want you to be as bad as you can possibly be.’

  The breath hissed through his teeth. ‘For God’s sake, Flora…’

  ‘People say you’re super-bright. Shockingly intelligent—brain in a different stratosphere to most people’s, and all that. I’m not sure if they’re right or not. What I do know is that you’re certainly very slow when it comes to knowing what I want.’

  His hand tightened around the glass. ‘I said, go home!’

  ‘Why? So that you can get slowly drunk on your own? I don’t think that’s the answer.’

  ‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you?’ He gave a mocking smile. ‘I’m willing to bet you’ve never been drunk in your life, Flora Harris.’

  ‘You’re right, actually. I haven’t.’ Her tone was calm. ‘I never saw the point. There are other ways to solve a problem.’

  ‘What makes you think I’m solving a problem?’

  Her eyes flickered to the bottle. ‘If you’re not solving a problem, why are you drinking?’

  ‘Actually, I’m not drinking.’

  But she still wasn’t listening. ‘I don’t know what you’re searching for but you won’t find it in the bottom of a whisky bottle.’

  He gave a cynical smile. ‘My father did.’

  ‘You’re not your father, Conner.’ She spoke quietly. ‘Which is why I’m standing here now.’ She let the coat slip from her shoulders and underneath she was naked apart from the skimpiest, sexiest underwear he’d ever seen. ‘You think I’m a good girl, Conner? You think you’re not allowed to touch me?’

  The glass slipped from his hand and the whisky spilled over the floor. Conner didn’t notice because every neurone in his brain had fused.

  Her body was all smooth lines and delicate curves, her legs impossibly long and her small breasts pressing against the filmy lace of her bra.

  He stared at her in tense silence. ‘I didn’t think I’d drunk anything,’ he muttered to himself in a hoarse voice, ‘but perhaps I’m wrong about that. For a moment there I thought Flora Harris was standing in front of me in her underwear.’

  She made an exasperated sound and removed the bottle from his hand. ‘You’ve had enough.’ Her subtle, floral perfume drifted towards him and he leaned his head back against the sofa with a groan.

  ‘Believe me, I haven’t had enough. I haven’t even started. But if I’m still imagining Flora naked, perhaps it’s time I did. I need the image to fade to black.’

  ‘It won’t fade because it’s real. I’m real. Oh, for goodness’ sake, Conner, I came here to seduce you and you’re—you’re…’ She sighed with frustration and put the bottle on the floor, spilling some of the contents in the process. ‘Why did you open a bottle of whisky?’

  ‘Because of you.’

  ‘Me? I’m the reason you’re drunk?’

  ‘I’m not drunk. But for a brief moment it seemed like a good idea. I thought it might take my mind off ravishing you,’ he mumbled, and she made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a giggle.

  ‘Why do you need to do that? I want you to ravish me. I’m desperate for you to ravish me.’

  He squinted up at her. ‘Am I dreaming?’

  ‘No, you’re not dreaming!’ She gave a sigh and shook her head. ‘You’re going to take a cold shower and while you’re doing that I’m going to make you a jug of very strong coffee.’

  Conner rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers and shook his head. ‘You don’t need to do that. And coffee stops me sleeping.’

  ‘Good.’ She sounded more exasperated than ever. ‘I don’t want you sleeping. I want you awake when I seduce you. I’ve spent most of my life listening to other women telling me what an amazing lover you are, and just when I’m about to find out what all the fuss is about, you pass out on me.’

  ‘I’m not going to pass out.’

  ‘Get in that shower, Conner MacNeil, or I swear I’ll throw a bucket of freezing water over you right here!’

  He ran a tongue over his lips. ‘You look like Flora but you’re not acting like Flora. Flora never swears. She’s a really sweet girl.’

  ‘Sweet? I’ll show you sweet.’ She grabbed his arm and yanked. ‘Stand up! You’re too heavy for me to pull you.’

  He wondered if she’d be as confident if she knew he was as sober as she was.

  Aware that his body was betraying his emotions in the most visible way possible, Conner stood up a
nd gave a wry smile. ‘I spilt half the bottle over myself when you walked through the door, so a shower might be a good idea. A freezing one, to kill my libido.’

  ‘I don’t want you to kill your libido.’ Her voice was sultry and she pulled him against her and stood on tiptoe. ‘Kiss me, Conner. And then go and take that shower. I want you sober enough to remember this. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and have you mouthing all sorts of excuses about being too drunk to know what you were doing.’

  He knew exactly what he was doing and it felt incredible.

  He groaned as he felt her silky smooth body pressing against his. He just couldn’t help himself and he brought his mouth down on hers, stars exploding in his head as her tongue met his. ‘You taste fantastic.’

  She pulled away from him, her eyes soft and her cheeks pink. ‘Where’s your bathroom?’

  ‘I don’t need a cold shower.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’

  ‘Where is Flora? I think you’ve hit her on the head and stolen her identity.’ He ran a hand through his hair as she tugged him towards the bathroom and hit a button on the shower. ‘Flora isn’t a forceful woman.’

  ‘There’s lots you don’t know about Flora.’

  He was starting to agree with her, especially when she reached up and yanked impatiently at his shirt, scattering buttons around the bathroom floor. Then he felt her fingers slide into the waistband of his jeans.

  His hands covered hers and he gave her a sexy smile, astonished and delighted by her new-found confidence. ‘Careful, angel. That’s the danger zone and Flora would never wander into the danger zone.’

  She gave him a gentle push and he swore fluently and then sucked in a breath as freezing water sluiced over his back. ‘That is cold.’

  ‘Good—it’s supposed to be cold. Stay in there until you can walk in a straight line unaided and tell me your name and date of birth. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.’

  * * *

  Her hand shaking, Flora rummaged through his fridge and found a packet of fresh coffee. She spooned a generous quantity into a cafetière and topped it up with hot water.

  Then she sat at the table, listening to the rushing sound of the shower.

  He was taking a long time.

  Was it safe to have left him there? Had he drowned?

  Or maybe she’d totally misread the situation and he was spending a long time in there in the hope that she’d give up and go home.

  Her nerve faltered and she caught her lower lip between her teeth.

  What on earth did she think she was doing?

  He was absolutely right. She wasn’t the sort of woman who stripped off and issued invitations to men. Neither was she the sort of woman who made coffee for a man while dressed in silk underwear.

  With a whimper of panic she was just about to sprint back into the sitting room and retrieve her coat, when he walked into the kitchen. He’d knotted a towel around his waist but droplets of water still clung to the dark tangle of curls that shadowed his chest. His shoulders were broad and powerful and his arms strong and muscular. He had a body designed to make a woman think of nothing but sin, but what really caught her attention was the look in his eyes. Lazy, sexy and ready for action.

  Her nerve fled completely and she decided to follow. ‘Coffee on the table,’ she muttered as she backed towards the door.

  A hand shot out and closed around her wrist, his fingers like bands of steel as he yanked her back towards him. ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ His voice was cool and rock steady. ‘You told me to shower. I’ve showered.’

  ‘You can’t possibly have sobered up that quickly.’

  ‘I was never drunk.’

  She stared at him. ‘I saw the bottle.’

  ‘I admit I considered it. That’s how low I felt.’ His eyes held hers for a long moment. ‘But if there’s one thing that being around my father taught me, it’s that drink solves nothing. I was about to pour it down the sink when you walked in.’

  ‘You smelt of alcohol.’

  His smile was faintly mocking. ‘When you took your coat off, I spilled most of it.’

  Her heart thumped as she re-examined the facts. He hadn’t been drunk. He’d been sober. She swallowed hard, all her courage leaving her. Somehow her belief that he was drunk had made him less intimidating and now, knowing that he hadn’t touched a drop, she felt suddenly shaky.

  ‘I should probably leave now. I’ve just remembered that I—’

  ‘What?’ His mouth was dangerously close to hers, his tone low and impossibly sexy as he curved an arm around her waist and trapped her against him. ‘What have you just remembered, Flora?’

  She could hardly breathe. ‘Flora? Who’s she? Oh, I remember—she’s the woman I left her locked in her cottage when I stole her identity. I need to go and let her out.’

  He gave a slow smile and his head lowered towards hers. ‘Too late, sweetheart.’ He paused, his mouth tantalisingly close to hers, ‘You are most definitely Flora. A whole new Flora. A standing-naked-in-my-kitchen Flora.’

  ‘In my underwear…’

  His lips brushed hers, a deliberately erotic hint of things to come. He gave a low, appreciative murmur. ‘You taste good. Whatever happens in the next few hours, don’t dig your fingernails into my shoulders. If this is a dream, I don’t want to be woken up.’

  Her entire body was throbbing but still the nerves fluttered in her stomach. He was so sure and confident, whereas she… ‘I made you coffee.’

  ‘I don’t want it.’ His mouth slid down her neck and lingered at the base of her throat, his tongue tasting her skin. ‘I want you, sweetheart.’

  Her pulse was thundering and she tilted her head back with a gasp. ‘Conner…’

  ‘You came here to seduce me…’ His lips moved slowly along her shoulder. ‘You want to know what sort of lover I am.’

  As she felt his hands slide confidently down her back, she gave a shiver. ‘I thought you didn’t find me attractive.’

  ‘I always found you attractive. But you were always off limits as far as I was concerned. Despite what everyone thought of me, that was the one line I was never prepared to cross.’

  ‘But you’re crossing it now.’

  ‘No. You’re crossing it.’ He lifted his head and looked down at her, his ice-blue eyes compelling. ‘This was your decision, Flora. You made it by coming here.’

  He was giving her the chance to change her mind. But she didn’t want to do that. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So…’ His hand slid slowly down her back and cupped her bottom. ‘You came here to seduce me.’

  She couldn’t breathe. ‘Yes.’

  He gave a slow smile. ‘Carry on, angel. I’m all yours.’

  Was that it? Was that all the help he was going to give her? For a moment her courage faltered but then she looked at his gorgeous naked body and couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his chest, while her fingers trailed slowly across the hard muscle of his abdomen and lower still until they brushed against the top of the towel that was all that was between her and his straining manhood.

  ‘All right, commercial break,’ he said roughly, scooping her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing, ‘If you carry on like that, this whole event is going to be very short-lived. You need to slow things down, angel. Make me beg.’

  Beg?

  She had no idea how to make a man beg. Flora clamped her mouth shut, judging it wise not to confess as much at this point. The problem with playing the seductress was that you were expected to follow through.

  He carried her up a flight of stairs to the bedroom. Dusk was falling but there was enough light for her to see open fields and the jagged ruins of Glenmore Castle.

  ‘It’s a wonderful view,’ she breathed, and he gave a lazy, confident smile as he deposited her in the centre of the bed.

  ‘The only view you’re going to be looking at has me in it.’ He delivered a lingering kiss to her mouth and then lay down beside her and r
olled onto his back, arrogantly sure of himself, his gaze direct.

  And she understood. He wanted active, not passive. He was giving her the chance to change her mind but she had no intention of doing that.

  She wanted this. She wanted him. And this time she wasn’t going to blow it. The whole of Glenmore could sing and dance outside his bedroom window and it wouldn’t make any difference.

  Aware that he was waiting for her to make the first move, she reached out a hand and stroked his shoulder, shivering slightly as she felt smooth skin and powerful male muscle.

  He lay still, his eyelids lowered, watching and waiting, and suddenly she felt desperately nervous and impossibly excited.

  ‘You can stop whenever you want,’ he murmured, but he sounded less cool and composed than usual and the edgy quality to his voice gave her courage.

  ‘I’m not stopping. You have an amazing body,’ she said huskily, and her eyes slid shyly to his and her insides tumbled and warmed. He was so outrageously sexy that it was hard not to stare and even harder not to touch. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, feeling the roughness of male stubble under her lips. Then she ran a finger over his nose, exploring the bump. ‘How did you break it? Were you fighting?’

  ‘Rugby.’ He turned his head and kissed her fingers. ‘I’m not quite the animal everyone seems to think I am.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’ She trailed her finger over his mouth and then replaced it with her lips and he slid a hand behind her head and held her there while they kissed. His mouth was hot and purposeful and she felt the excitement flash through her body, turning her from willing to desperate.

  Her hand slid over his shoulder, tracing flesh and hard muscle, and then lowered her head and rubbed her cheek over the roughness of his chest and breathed in his erotic scent. Her hand lingered low on his abdomen and she felt his muscles clench in an involuntary response.

  She allowed her fingers to linger in that dangerous place, teasing and promising, and then she bent her head and kissed his shoulder, using lips and tongue to discover and explore his body, gradually moving lower until her mouth rested where her hand had been. His muscles quivered under her gentle touch and she heard the sharp hiss of his breath as she teased him with her tongue. He sank his fingers into her hair and then released her instantly. She glanced up at him and saw that his eyes were closed and his jaw was clenched. Desire burned deep inside her and she bent her head again and closed her mouth over him and he made a choking sound.