Gently, he pressed her shoulder, urging her onto her back. As he shifted positions to lean over her on one elbow, he mapped her body with his palm. Plump, curvy breasts. Smooth rib cage. Almost concave belly. And then—the mother lode.
Keeping his gaze fixed on hers, he traced the folds of her sex with gentle persuasion. Her legs moved restlessly, her thighs widening in unspoken invitation. It would be so easy to pounce and take. But since his plan was to allow himself only a single night of delirium, he had to go slowly. Make it last. Wring every drop of pleasure from the hushed minutes when he had her to himself.
Emma’s hands roved over his scalp, her fingers sweeping across his forehead, stroking his neck, playing with his ears. It was embarrassing that such chaste touches made him rigid with need. His erection was full and hard and throbbing with eagerness.
Do it. Take her. Now.
Every masculine impulse leaned toward plunder. Only the mitigating tenderness of their past reined him in.
Emma exhaled in a shuddering sigh. “When you touch me, I melt inside. It was always that way, Aidan.”
Perhaps that much was the truth. He would never really know. But she couldn’t fake her body’s response at the moment. The warm, soft welcome at her center was slick and moist and scented with her need.
He had intended to tease them both with long minutes of foreplay. But why? He couldn’t want her more. No hunger could be as gut-wrenching. He was primed and ready.
Moving over her on shaking arms, he positioned the head of his sex at her entrance and pushed with a groan that betrayed his need. Her excitement eased his passage, taking him to the hilt with oxygen-stealing speed. Holy hell. Either his memories were faulty or she had slipped some kind of aphrodisiac into his tea.
“Damn, Emma.”
She arched her back, taking him deeper still. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heels locking in the small of his back. “Don’t stop,” she begged, the words ragged.
Cursing and laughing, he moved in her with what little control he had left. “Not a problem.”
To say they were good together was like saying the horizon was infinite. He’d had plenty of sex in his adult life. But whatever happened when he joined his body with Emma’s defied description.
A sappy English poet might talk about roses and hearts afire and the purity of true love. Aidan took a more visceral approach. When he screwed Emma, his body went berserk. Fireworks, explosions, searing heat...incandescent pleasure.
And all that was before he climaxed.
He buried his hot face in her neck. “Once won’t be enough.”
She bit the side of his neck. “I never said it would.”
Feeling her teeth on him was all it took. Light flashed behind his eyelids. He pistoned his hips. In some dim corner of his brain, he tried to make sure he gave her what she needed. If her wild cries were any indication, he was succeeding.
Then he went rigid as the world went black and he lost himself in the flash fire of completion.
* * *
Emma trembled uncontrollably. Most of Aidan’s weight pressed her into the bed. His breathing was harsh and uneven. She had no idea if he were awake or asleep. She was hoping for the latter, because she hadn’t a clue what she was supposed to say.
Wow, Aidan. That was awesome. Let’s do it again.
Or...you rocked my world. And I’m pretty sure I never stopped loving you.
Hysteria bubbled in her chest. She was in so much trouble. How had she blinded herself to the truth? She hadn’t come to Silver Glen to find Aidan and make amends for their past...or at least not only that. She wanted to win him back.
Since the chances of that happening were about as good as the possibility of the Queen dancing naked beside the Thames, Emma had a choice to make. She could slink away quietly and go home to England—forgetting she ever knew Aidan Kavanagh—or she could fight for him. But the emotional barriers he had built were formidable.
Confrontation was not Emma’s strong suit. Aidan didn’t want to hear her version of the past. Anytime she tried to bring it up, he stonewalled her. But tonight, he had given her a powerful weapon. He had shown her clearly that at least one thing hadn’t changed over the years. He and Emma were still magic between the sheets.
That had to count for something, right?
She smoothed his hair with her hand, relishing the opportunity to touch him as she wished. How different her life might have been if she’d had more gumption at twenty-one...if she hadn’t been under her father’s thumb...if she’d had the confidence to accept that the handsome American really loved her.
But deep in her heart, she had doubted Aidan. It shamed her to admit it. And it had taken her a long time to face the truth. One reason their relationship had ended so abruptly and with such devastating finality was that she hadn’t really believed a man could want her for herself.
The preteen wallflower had grown up to be a self-conscious academic. Her degree in art history was achieved with highest honors, but no one had ever expected her to use it, least of all her family. Emma’s purpose in life was to marry well and continue the Braithwaite legacy.
Perhaps to someone of Aidan’s background, such a notion was antiquated. But Emma had grown up circumscribed by the expectations of her rank and position in society. Her parents adhered rigidly to the tenets of their social code. As their only child, Emma’s path in life had been well defined. Even so, she’d certainly had the freedom to fall in love...as long as the man of her choice passed muster in the pages of Debrett’s Peerage & Baronetage.
Now, holding the mature, sexy Aidan Kavanagh in her arms, she couldn’t fathom that she had been so foolish. His advent into her young life had seemed like such a fairy tale, she’d lived the fantasy and refused to think about the future. Which meant that when disaster struck, she hadn’t been prepared. Neither had she possessed the confidence to fight back. A mistake she bitterly regretted.
Her cowardice had hurt Aidan and destroyed their fragile, beautiful relationship. Even though she had tried her best to fix things in the aftermath, the damage had been done.
Already, she wanted him again. Hesitantly, she ran her hands down the taut planes of his back, as far as she could reach. He was a beautiful man. Naked, he seemed both more powerful and more approachable.
Moving slowly and carefully so as not to wake him, she eased him onto his back. His broad, hair-dusted chest rose and fell with his steady breathing. The flat belly, muscled thighs and surprisingly sexy feet caught her eye. But it was his quiescent sex that made her sigh with appreciation. Even at rest, it shouted his masculinity.
Men were so wonderfully different from women. In her art history classes she had studied hundreds of famous nudes—painted on canvas, chiseled in marble, sculpted in bronze. But no matter how impressive the subject, there was nothing to compare to a living, breathing man.
Resting her hand on his thigh, she bent to examine a small white scar on his right hip, probably a childhood injury. He and his brothers had been wild rascals growing up, particularly after their father died. She could only imagine how Maeve Kavanagh managed to wrangle them all into becoming upright citizens of the community.
“Em, are you window-shopping or trying to get something started?”
She sat up abruptly, shocked to the core. Apparently, Aidan was a better actor than she realized. Clearing her throat, she sat back on her heels. “How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough.” He linked his hands behind his head, smiling slightly, clearly enjoying her discomfiture.
She couldn’t think of an excuse that would explain her intense interest in his body. So she changed the subject. “Sorry I woke you,” she said, not quite able to meet his knowing gaze. “We should both probably get some sleep. The next three days are going to be busy.”
He took her hand and tugged her down beside him. “Hush, Em. Don’t be embarrassed. I want to look at you, too.”
But she wasn’t as blasé as he was about her nu
de body. Dragging the sheet to her chin, she bit her lip. “I thought you might want to go back to the hotel now.”
“It’s the middle of the night.” He chuckled. “And I don’t have a car. As far as I can tell, staying right here in your bed is a damned good plan. Do you have any objections?”
Lord, no, she thought. Why did it matter if they were sleep-deprived? It was about time some of her other physical needs took center stage for a change. She could sleep when she was old.
“You called me Em,” she said.
His smile faded. “Don’t make a big deal out of that. It slipped out. That’s all. Old habits.”
She hoped it was more than that. Em was the nickname he’d sometimes used for her when they were in college. Often he would whisper it in the midst of sex. A tender, affectionate means of address that always sounded indulgent and proprietary.
She nodded, unsure what was going to happen next. While they talked, his erection had flexed to attention again. A thing like that was hard to ignore. But the expression on Aidan’s face was serious.
Touching her cheek gently, he grimaced. “Tell me why you moved from England to Silver Glen.”
Her heart leapt. It was a chink in the wall, though a small one. “I didn’t,” she said. “I’ve lived in Boston for the last nine years.”
“Doing what?” She had startled him, no question.
“I was an art appraiser at the Sotheby’s branch there.”
“Why work at all?”
“You’re rich. And you work. We all need a reason to get up in the morning.”
“Why did you leave England?”
She wanted to be a smart-ass and remind him that he wasn’t interested in having information or explanations. But it would be foolish to bypass this opportunity. “I had a falling out with my father. We’re both stubborn people, so neither side wanted to concede. I refused to go home for eight and a half years. My mother visited me often in Boston, but until this past spring I had not seen my father for a very long time.”
“And why last spring?” He seemed genuinely curious.
The reasons for her voluntary exile to the States involved Aidan, but she didn’t think he was ready to hear that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. So she told him the bare bones.
“My father was an old-school autocrat. He ruled our family with an iron fist, expecting absolute obedience. When it became clear that he and I were never going to see eye-to-eye about several very important topics, I knew I had to strike out on my own.”
“Must have been scary.”
“It was...but exciting, too. Even so, I missed home. When my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in April, the doctors told my mother he had only weeks to live. I flew back immediately, and thankfully, I was able to reconcile with him before he left us. That experience taught me it’s never too late to heal old wounds.”
The personal story was about as blunt as she was prepared to be. Aidan was an intelligent man. Surely he could read between the lines. It had taken until today for Emma to acknowledge to herself that her reasons for coming to Silver Glen were more convoluted that she had been willing to admit.
She wasn’t committed to any man at the moment. And unless Aidan was not the man she once knew, he was not attached either, or he would not be in bed with her. If she could convince him that what tore them apart was no longer relevant—if he would accept her apologies—then surely there was no reason they couldn’t make a new start.
That was a big pile of assumptions. Built mostly on fantasy and dreams. But he was in her bed, so that was a start.
Ten
Aidan tried to find his anger and his righteous indignation, but it seemed to have disappeared along with his pants. It was difficult for a man to hold a grudge while a woman’s naked body was pressed against his. He stroked Emma’s hip. “Enough chitchat,” he said. But he smiled to let her know he wasn’t making light of her revelations.
Her hair was rumpled. Dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes spoke of exhaustion. Perhaps another man would have been content to hold her. But not Aidan. Not after waiting a decade to be with her again.
Difficulties lurked outside this room. And reality. Not to mention his vivid, painful memories of the past. For the moment, however, he was content to overlook the negatives. Probably because his brain was not in control. That function had been ceded to his baser anatomy.
He kissed her softly, one hand balanced on the pillow, his fingers tangled in her hair. “I want you again,” he said. His lips moved to her eyelids, her cute nose, her perfect earlobes.
When Emma squirmed, her hand brushed his erection. Accidentally, or no? He sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t stop there.” The gruff command worked. Perhaps because it sounded more like a plea. When her slender fingers closed around his firm shaft, stroking up and down, he shuddered and gasped, totally unable to hide his excitement.
Emma might have seen his reaction as proof of her power over him. But instead, her gaze was one of fascination. “I don’t remember what you liked,” she said quietly, as if confessing a wretched secret.
“No complaints here.” He forced the words between clenched teeth. She was adorable. But then she always had been. He refused to think about any other men who might have been part of her life. He didn’t want to know. If he could keep his mind on the present and nothing else, everything would be okay.
“Aidan?” She abandoned her activity and put both hands on his cheeks lightly.
He turned his face and kissed one soft palm. “What?”
Big eyes searched his as if seeking answers to questions they hadn’t even spoken aloud. “I’ve missed you.”
She paused before she said those last three words, giving him the impression that she might have changed what she was going to say at the last minute.
What did she expect from him? He felt a lick of anger and shoved it away. “I’m here now. Roll over, Emma.”
Suddenly, he couldn’t bear to look her in the face, couldn’t stand to see the gaze that made him feel guilty...as if he had been the one to break her heart and not the other way around.
Rubbing her firm, round bottom, he leaned over her, tucking her hair across one shoulder and kissing the nape of her neck. When they were together in the past, he had never taken her like this. She had seemed too much the lady for a naughty position.
Or so he had thought. Maybe she had seen his naïveté as comical.
“Are you okay?” he asked, cursing inwardly that he felt the need to check.
She turned her head to smile at him with a mischievous look. “I won’t break, Aidan. I swear.”
He took her at her word. Checking her readiness with two fingers, he found her sex slick with moisture. She squirmed at his touch. Entering her slowly, he cursed. The fit was different from this angle, but no less stimulating. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he tried to pace his thrusts. The visual wasn’t helping.
Emma’s pale skin was luminous. Streetlights below cast a gentle glow through the thin curtains, so the room was never truly dark. He could see the curve where her waist dipped in and her hips flared.
Reaching beneath her, he palmed one breast, then the other. The flesh was full and firm. She wriggled backward, seating him more fully inside her. He was so close to coming every inch of skin all over his body was taut with expectation.
Suddenly, he knew it had to be different. If he and Emma had been long-time lovers, nothing would have been out of line. But they were neither lovers nor longtime. They were reconnecting with a tentative passion that left too much unspoken. She deserved to know he wanted her, not merely a faceless hookup.
Disengaging their bodies carefully, he moved her onto her back, lifted her leg over his hip and slid home again. She cried out and stared at him with a hazy expression, her lips parted, her breath coming quickly. Pleasure was the only emotion he recognized without question. And truly, he didn’t want to examine the others too closely. Pleasure was fine. Pleasure was good. He didn’t need to know wha
t was going on inside her head.
Exhaustion lay heavy on his shoulders. If he had the energy, he would move inside her forever. Feeling the butterfly caress when her sex squeezed his. Watching the way her breasts lifted and fell as her excitement grew. Touching her intimately, stimulating her little nerve center.
But the night had waned and he and Emma were half-sated from their earlier coupling. Even still, he managed to hold off for one more minute. “You enchant me,” he said.
Emma frowned slightly. His statement held a hint of accusation, even to his own ears.
“I don’t need you to talk, Aidan. Take us both where we want to go.”
Closing his eyes, he heaved a deep breath and did just that...
* * *
When Emma awoke the next time, morning light filtered into her small bedroom. Aidan stood beside the bed, almost fully dressed. As she watched, he finished buttoning his shirt and tucked it into his pants.
She reared up on her elbows. “Are you leaving?”
He shot her a glance, nodding. “I promised Dylan and Mia that I would help them today out at the house. The whole crew is coming over for dinner tonight.”
“Mia invited me, too.”
She saw him go still, witnessed the rigid set of his shoulders. His reaction hurt, but she wasn’t surprised.
No one needs to know about this.
Sitting up, she clutched her knees to her chest, the sheet protecting her modesty. “If you don’t want me there tonight, I’ll stay home.”
He shrugged, still not meeting her eyes as he fastened his cuff links. “Go. Don’t go. It’s up to you.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about, Aidan. I won’t embarrass you.”
He slipped into his overcoat and buttoned it. “It’s not a question of embarrassment. But my mother and Zoe and Mia get a real charge out of matchmaking. I don’t want to get their hopes up.”
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