by Dani Wade
She stuck her tongue out at his teasing tone. “You have farther to go than me, since your clothes are still on the third floor.”
Even though their bed was on the second. And that’s when it hit him. He was going to play, even though he knew he shouldn’t—
“Not a problem,” he boasted. Then he held her gaze for as long as possible before his shirt cleared his head. He dropped the material to the floor with a splat. Watching her closely, he noticed the smile had disappeared, and her gaze had moved down from his face. Even though his pants weren’t nearly as wet, his hands went to the zipper. “You gonna join me?”
Her head was shaking before he even finished.
“You sure?”
Her gaze traced his pants’ fall to the floor then traveled back up to devour the boxers he was left standing in. There wasn’t any hiding his reaction to her interest.
“What’s the matter, Christina? Scared?”
She stared at him, as if she was unsure how to take his question. Then she inched her bare feet—he’d missed her slipping off her shoes—toward the doorway. “No, I’m good.”
Before he could stop her, she’d turned away. Her dripping clothes left a trail as she hightailed it for the stairs. But she wasn’t getting away that easy. His heart raced with anticipation as he followed. She was going to taste so good. So much better than the bitterness he’d forced down today.
His feet found the stairs, his legs propelling him after her. He heard her gasp right before he rounded the corner to meet her once more.
His voice growled from a throat tight with need. “These stairs hold the best surprises.” Twisting her around, he pulled her off balance to meet him like the last time. His breath hissed through his teeth as her cold clothes pressed to his bare chest, but he didn’t care. He was too busy anticipating her taste.
“Chilly?” she teased, but it didn’t hide the way her body trembled beneath his hands. Then he was hit with her scent—jasmine or lavender, so soft he could breathe her in forever. Every centimeter of his body stood up and took notice.
He stared through the gloom. The wealth of hair—now curling in the humidity—hiding the vulnerability of her neck. The thin shirt outlining the soft rounds of her breasts. The pale skin of her collarbone. The awareness he’d been fighting since that first night exploded like a sizzle beneath his skin, loosening his control inch by inch.
Cupping her face between his hands, he whispered, “Not anymore,” then drank from her mouth, letting the force of his desire push him beyond thinking.
Her lips parted. Her tongue met his, stroke for stroke, fueling the fire to an inferno. The feel of her delicate hands exploring his chest pulled a groan from him. “I need you, Christina. Now.”
“Yes,” she gasped.
Before he could lose himself in the feel of her body against his, he swept her into his arms. This was happening; nothing would stop it now.
His quick stride took them to the third floor and into his room in precious seconds, leaving the chance of interruption far behind. Laying her on the dark navy comforter, he stripped her shirt off. The contrast between her pale blue bra and the dark background caught his attention; itches of possession tingled along his nerves.
With shaking hands he stripped her, uncovering the pale mounds of her breasts, which were more than a handful. Then he came to the silky slimness of her stomach, leading to rounded hips and the soft dark curls between her thighs. He moved to spread her long, toned legs, but she resisted.
“No,” she whispered.
It took him only a moment to realize her fears. “Do you really need to hide from me, Christina?”
Her troubled gaze slowly zeroed in on him until he could see the moment she made her decision. This time he pressed firmly against her knees, not allowing her to hide. Exposing the softness between, he buried his lips against her. The greedy sounds of passion escaping from her throat ignited a heat under his skin. All thought ceased.
His whole being focused on bringing her pleasure. On the slick evidence of her passion. The silky lips of her sex. The tight arch of her back. The jerk of her hips as he concentrated in that most important spot.
All it took was one gasp, one short cry as she came to make him desperate to be inside her. Pulling back, he planted his knees in the mattress, forcing her even wider. As his body crowded over her, his mouth retraced his steps. He lapped at the delicate ring of her belly button, then along the line of ribs that heaved with her gasps for air. But it was her hands that pulled him higher. “Please, Aiden,” she begged.
He made her wait a moment more while he drank deep and long from her lips, satisfying the thirst that had been building within him since the day he first saw her.
Her wicked hands explored his chest, nails scraping lightly over his skin until urgency rode him hard. “Now,” she demanded, her voice strained with need. He wasted no time fitting his body to hers and pushing deep inside. Her soaked passage rippled around him, tight and unbearably hot. He could only savor her.
Don’t think. Only feel.
For this moment in time, there was only the two of them working together. The lift of her hips driving him deeper with each stroke. The push of his thighs driving them both to a pleasure previously unknown.
He glanced down, and her wide-open stare caught him, the chocolate depths of her eyes holding untold secrets. As his body pounded into hers, that gaze wrapped chains around them that tied his soul to hers. He saw beauty, acceptance and the promise of rapture. She reached up to cup his face, fingers tangling in his hair as he burrowed deeper. Her eyes lost focus. Anticipation squeezed his lower back, his body pulling inward, readying for the leap. But it was the wonder in her eyes that sent him over.
With a groan, the tension exploded outward, leaving him shaken and useless. As if sex between them had drained every last ounce of rebellion and frustration, stripping away his starch. Limbs limp and sated, he sank over her and savored the long moments of quiet peace. Of relief.
A small jerk of her hips brought him back to the present. Reality flooded his mind in a rush: the quietness of the house around them, the darkness held off by the single lamp beside his bed, the unevenness of her breathing. The greedy gasp of the flesh surrounding his own.
Again his body hardened at the feel of the silken skin surrounding it, no barriers to dull the sensation—
No barrier!
With a mighty pull, Aiden separated from Christina and sprang from the bed. Her surprise slowed her reaction, granting him a glimpse of trembling breasts, pale skin marked by the rough touch of his fingers and the dark center where he’d found a peace unlike any he’d experienced before. Too soon, she jerked upright, reaching to push her thick, dark hair back from her face. He wished he could ignore her confused expression.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
Underneath the panic flooding his veins, his logical brain knew he was going about this all wrong. But when had he ever handled anything emotional right? He should be holding her, bringing her to another climax, not sinking into the depths of his own anger and fear.
“Condom,” he said, passion still straining his voice. “I didn’t use a condom.”
Stalking to his closet, he yanked on underwear and then pants. “I can’t believe I did that. What the hell was I thinking?” He jerked a shirt on in hard, short pulls. He’d spent his adult life avoiding commitment—especially a lifelong one like parenthood. As images of a pregnant Christina muddled up his brain, his voice gathered volume, “Tell me you are on the pill. Tell me.”
His movements ceased abruptly when he glanced over his shoulder and spied the woman huddled in the middle of his bed. Her chin was tucked against her neck, her gaze pointedly fixed on the navy comforter she had wrapped around her naked body. The body he had just made love to, then left without so much as a thank-you-very-muc
h. But he couldn’t stop the freight train of his panic. “Tell me you are taking the pill,” he insisted again.
He didn’t catch her mumble. Striding across the carpet, he placed a firm hand under her chin, guiding it up until he could look once more into the gorgeous depths of those dark eyes.
She didn’t even have to speak. He could tell by the way she shied away from his touch that she wasn’t protected in any way. “Damn,” he muttered, stumbling back on suddenly shaky legs.
“What is the matter with you?” she asked.
“This isn’t what I planned. It isn’t what I wanted,” he said, more to himself than her. His brain shut down, as if it had been dealt one too many shocks over the last few weeks.
Hearing a rustle, he turned to find her standing beside the bed, gathering the length of the comforter around her curves. Her back was straight and tense, those tight shoulders reminding him of the time they’d first met as adults. The only contrast being the sight of smooth, pale skin that tempted him to throw his panic to the winds and reenter forbidden territory.
She walked to her pile of clothes and started gathering them up in her arms.
“Okay then, is this a bad time of the month to conceive?” he asked clinically, his nerves demanding some form of reassurance.
“It’s a bad time of the month,” she replied, though her voice sounded robotic as she tucked the damp clothes against her.
Allowing her a small modicum of dignity, he waited until she was almost to the door before pressing for more information. “Are you serious or are you just saying what I want to hear?”
She turned to face him, giving him a head-on look at the misery in her eyes. “Is being a jackass genetic for you?” Without another word, she turned away. He grabbed her bare arm, sucking in a breath at the chill on her skin.
“Christina, please. I know I started this, but I didn’t mean to leave either of us with a child we don’t want.”
“How do you know I wouldn’t want it?”
Shock held him immobile for a minute, then heat blazed across his body. And not the good kind. “Are you saying you want me to get you pregnant?”
“No, Aiden,” she said, her voice steadier than before. “I’m just saying I’ve always wanted children of my own. But you don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
He wouldn’t have to worry? “I don’t want children. Ever. When this is over, I’m heading straight back to New York. Not staying because I gave James another weapon to use against me. I have to get away.” He would smother if he knew he was only here because his grandfather had tied his hands.
Her eyes closed for a moment, then that tight, haughty look slipped over her face once more. A mask that was achingly familiar.
She held herself away from him, preserving a few inches of space between their bodies. It only served to remind him of those moments just past when there’d been no space between them at all.
“I understand, Aiden. Believe me, I do. You’ll get your wish. I promise.”
Would he? Did it really matter in the aftermath of what they’d just experienced? Shame rolled over him as he watched her walk out of the room with quiet dignity, somehow graceful despite the improvised wrapping and his selfish commands. As his body demanded he follow and his mind demanded he stay away, he had to wonder what it was he really wanted.
Nine
Christina grasped the banister extra hard to keep herself steady. Walking with her head high down the main staircase, she forced one foot in front of the other. She refused to hide in Lily’s suite, as much as she might want to. Hiding was for sissies. She would face Aiden like the strong woman she wanted to be, not the scared rabbit she’d been so often in the past.
Memories from the night before didn’t make her walk to breakfast any easier.
From the moment his mouth had met hers, she’d been lost. All the heat, excitement and passion she’d craved her entire life had been contained in that kiss. It had been like coming home and finding all the holidays her family had neglected being celebrated all at once. Every nerve ending in her body had lit up, and thinking had become a thing of the past.
The part that had truly gotten under her skin had been the moment his gaze met hers. While his body drove deeper than deep between her thighs, his eyes had locked with hers for moments on end. She’d seen the man underneath, the same need for love and acceptance she had. The need to prove himself—not just to the world around him, but to himself. As she’d struggled to keep her eyes open, her gaze locked on his; she’d felt their souls touch in an intangible way she’d never experienced before.
Hell, birth control had been the last thing on her mind, even considering the complications of not using it. She’d known only the burn of Aiden’s hard flesh inside her. Obviously, he’d come to his senses a lot quicker than she had.
And she was the one feeling awkward now. He hadn’t come to bed last night, so she’d gotten a reprieve until morning. Still, she took a deep breath and walked through the door with even steps. Aiden was already seated at the table, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper. Business as usual. At least she wouldn’t have to suffer as the sole focus of his attention.
Nolen hovered near the door to the kitchen and gave her a knowing look as he stepped forward to pour her coffee. Dang it. She’d love to know how they found out about things. Her cheeks heated. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t the one who’d stripped by the back door. She’d never have sex in this house again.
Aiden glanced over as she sat down. She ignored him, focusing on Nolen as he poured her coffee. “How about some waffles, Miss Christina?”
The thought had her stomach roiling, but even a nibble would be better than sitting there in strained silence. “That would be lovely, Nolen. Please tell Marie thank you for me.”
With a nod, he left. Christina carefully poured cream then sugar into her cup. Today was for full leaded, not a halfway commitment. Waffles and sweet coffee. Screw her waistline.
“Christina, about last night—” Aiden began.
Of course he couldn’t leave her in peace. Where was the fun in that? “Don’t worry about it. It was a mistake. No problem.”
“Of course it’s a problem. I’m sorry—”
She wasn’t sure if it was her angry glare or Nolen’s reappearance that stopped him, only that she didn’t have to hear more about what a problem she was. At least for the moment. Nolen lingered, to her appreciation, making sure she had everything she needed before reluctantly easing back over to the door. “I’ll be nearby if you need me,” he said, his tone strong, a little louder than it needed to be.
Her protector. She’d never had one before, but it sure felt nice.
Aiden studied her as she smothered the warm waffles with butter and heated strawberry preserves. The fruity aroma should have been tantalizing. Still, she forced herself to cut a bite and lift it to her mouth. Aiden spoke again as she chewed.
“Look, you’re right,” he said, much to her surprise. “I did say all the wrong things last night. I kind of freaked out—”
“Kinda?” she mumbled.
“But I want to make this right. We will be seeing each other a lot over the next several months—”
Not as much as she’d seen of him yesterday.
“—and I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”
Too late.
“So I propose—”
“You ungrateful, sorry excuse for a grandson!”
The interruption came from the hallway this time, leaving Christina disconcerted. At first, she had the horrible suspicion that James had found out about her sleeping with Aiden. Then she realized what he’d said. Why was he so upset?
Her stomach tightened. Confrontations had happened frequently when she was growing up and never ended well. James preferred his argument
s loud and long.
Leaning heavily on a cane, he came through the door. “You think I’m already in the grave, boy?”
Aiden switched gears pretty quickly. “Hardly,” he said, letting a wry amusement stretch the word. He’d turned toward James, but as she watched, he deliberately relaxed back into his chair.
“Oh, but you can ignore me, act like I don’t exist, while you conduct my business right under my nose?” In his anger, James was unusually flushed and agitated. Christina’s senses tingled as his left arm jerked a few times.
“Did you think I wouldn’t hear about that little visit to the mill?” James winced, but he didn’t take a step toward one of the empty chairs. “Don’t you think you should have asked permission from the actual owner of the mill? Or are you trying to get in good with that day foreman while I’m too sick to stop you?”
“Why would you want to stop me? You told me to take over. That’s what I’m doing, abiding by the letter of your law.”
James grabbed Aiden’s left arm, hard. Christina’s sensibilities kicked into overdrive. “James—”
“By cutting me out of the loop?” James gripped his cane tightly, seeming to sway on his feet. “Taking meetings behind my back? I’m still in charge here.”
As she stood, Christina felt an unnatural calm come over her. Gone was the frightened child witnessing one argument among many. The nurse took over, reminding her not to ignore her instincts. “James—” His color was pale but his cheeks burned red. He was definitely unsteady on his feet, but then he had been since his last attack.
Aiden found his feet, too, meeting his grandfather on equal ground. “You won’t be in charge for long. Remember?”
When James’s hand reached to press against his chest, Christina was around the table in seconds.
“Please, James. The doctor said you needed to stay calm. Let’s just quiet down—”
“You!” James’s focus finally shifted her way. “You’re helping him take everything away from me. You should be grateful for all I’ve done for you. Instead, you’re plotting to ruin me.”
