Sensations rushed over her from all sides, her body warring with itself to feel everything at once. The suction of his mouth against hers. The scrape of a tongue drawing wetly. Fingertips dancing slowly down her spine to the top of her butt. A hand curving around her hip to pull the heat of her closer. The hardness of him pushing heavily against her thigh through his jeans.
Suddenly it was as important to touch him, to feel his skin beneath hers, as it was to revel in being touched by him, and her hands raced over his body with greedy searching. She tugged and pulled, and in a minute had him as naked as she was. The sheer pleasure of his skin against hers, the warmth and softness and intimacy of it was mind-fogging. She tangled arms and legs and body with his, until to move in any direction felt like a separation from him. And still her hands sped over him.
Everywhere, his muscles were hard, tensed until they almost shook, and she realized that he was holding himself in check, letting her decide what came next. He touched her, but he didn’t rush or insist, waiting instead to see what she chose to do to him.
She sculpted out the feel of him with her hands, dragging them exquisitely slowly over the planes of his chest, the flexed muscles of his shoulders and biceps. His breathing caught, steadied, and caught again as she painted his body with openmouthed kisses. The skin over his hard stomach was baby-soft, suddenly stretched tight with a gasp as her hand dipped lower and wrapped around him. He strained against her with a cry as she felt him shudder.
It was his turn to beg.
“Ah, Grace.” His voice was strained in the night room. “Please.” A sudden hiss. “I need—”
“I know,” she whispered, a finger pressed to his lips. He took it into his mouth and sucked fiercely. She slid her body up his and raised herself over him again.
His fingers pressed into her hips, steadying her above him as she eased herself down, slowly taking him inside her. She pressed herself against him until she could get no closer, and then stopped, motionless, focused, absorbed in the feel of him stretching her body wide. His hands reached up through the darkness to cradle her face gently. For a long moment he held her and she wondered if he could see her in the dark, watching him, overwhelmed with feeling for him. With the feeling of him.
And then the pressure began to build again and she lost coherent thought. Her body of its own will began to rock slowly against him, and then faster, moving instinctively in a mindless search for her own pleasure.
She felt, through the haze, when Tyler reached a hand between them to brush lightly against her where her body joined slickly with his. Heat exploded and the sudden lightning crack of ecstasy jerked a harsh cry out of her.
Once, twice, he thrust against her with his hips, her own still moving rhythmically on sheer momentum. His guttural cry tore through her and she felt his muscles spasm beneath her. His hands clenched her hips and pulled her hard against him, before falling limply at his sides. Her body’s movements slowed, until she fell forward against his sweaty chest, her hair damp at her neck and against her face.
His chest rose and fell raggedly under hers, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, hugging her to him. Their breathing and the rush of her heartbeat in her ears were the only sounds in the silence.
He rolled her onto her side, legs tangled together, bodies still joined, and brushed the tangle of hair off her face. Then he pressed his hand briefly against the center of her chest, before repeating the gesture on himself.
“Just checking.” At her wordless sound of query, “Making sure we’re not dead.”
She shook with silent laughter against him. Speech hadn’t quite returned, but she was most definitely not dead. In fact, Grace couldn’t remember ever feeling this alive. Every inch of her skin was aware, sensitive to the cooling feel of sweat drying in the cool air, the warmth of his body touching hers, the lingering tension where his body filled hers. She shivered.
“Cold?” He pulled away slightly from her.
“No, not—ah.” Her breath hissed out, the aftershocks of their loving pulsing softly through her as he eased himself out of her. She felt him slide slowly from her body, leaving her feeling strangely hollow and empty. “Not cold. Just shivery.”
“Shivery is good,” he whispered, and kissed her face softly. “Shivery is very good.”
She sighed and kissed him in return, trying to tell him without words how happy she was to be curled up with him on an Oriental rug in the middle of a dark living room, remnants of a meal scattered on a table next to them. Already she could feel the press of outside, daylight problems pushing at her thoughts and the rising tide of guilt and confusion threatened to break in on this moment. A moment where she could fool herself into believing that their world was as he’d seen her. Perfect.
“You know what I could do now?” Tyler whispered the words against her neck and bit her gently there.
“What’s that?” She curved an arm around his neck, more than willing to be drawn away from her thoughts and back to the physical.
“Eat.”
She yelped as his hand smacked her butt lightly. He rolled to his feet and stood in one motion, dumping her abruptly on the floor. She propped her head on one hand and glared up at him, knowing he couldn’t see her face.
“For some reason—” she didn’t need light to hear the laughter in his voice “—I am absolutely starving.”
Her decision was already made. She braced herself in preparation.
“Race you to the kitchen.” And ran.
Smacking her hand on the refrigerator handle, Grace claimed her victory. She tugged the door open a crack and then shrieked. The spill of bright light into the dark room was startling, as was the realization that she was standing buck-naked in the middle of Tyler’s kitchen. In front of a window that looked out onto the street.
A window with no shade or curtain.
She sprinted past Tyler to the shelter of the doorway and stood there, laughing at herself.
“I take it back. You win.” She heard him snort. “Winner brings plates back to the living room.”
“Sounds like the loser’s job to me,” he complained, but she heard him rattling the lids off pots in the fridge.
In the living room, she snagged his T-shirt off the floor and pulled it on. It covered her butt, and that was about all. She shrugged and sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. She certainly wasn’t trying to hide her nakedness from Tyler. Just any neighbors who happened to look in the window.
He returned with plates piled high and she dove on the food, suddenly ravenous herself. They fed each other and ate off their own plates, licked each other’s fingers clean and kissed between bites of their late-night feast.
By meal’s end, they were kissing more than they were eating and Grace’s only fear was that they would forget the plates of leftover scraps at their sides. Visions of her and Tyler rolling around in their dinners, as he’d suggested he would do earlier, made her smile.
Sitting next to her, Tyler paused between nibbling on her neck and shoulder to ask, “Ready for one more race?”
“Oh?” She put one hand on the floor beside her, ready to push off. “Where to?”
She knew the answer to her own question.
“Bed.” As expected.
What she didn’t expect was that Tyler, instead of streaking past her, would catch her up along the way and haul her over his shoulder, where she bounced roughly all the way to the bedroom.
“Wait—oof! Tyler—ow!” She shrieked loudly enough to draw the attention of any neighbors not already attracted by the sight of her naked in the kitchen.
He dumped her unceremoniously on the bed and threw himself down next to her, bouncing them both on the mattress. She laughed and then groaned and clutched her stomach.
“You may have done—ow—permanent damage, Tyler.”
“I couldn’t resist.” He rolled her over and tickled her with stiff fingers beneath her arms and at her sides, as she shouted and squirmed and wrestled to break
free. “It’s so much fun, making you shriek.”
With a heave of her hips and a carefully placed shove, she threw him on his back and pinned him. “I’ll show you shrieking.” And did, as he reared up suddenly and nipped at her breast.
Before she could blink, their positions were reversed and it was Tyler who rose above her. He spoke in his best evil-villain voice. “Yes, you will.”
By the time he worked his way down her body with his mouth, his fingers had slipped from tickling to stroking, and her shrieks slid into shuddering moans.
Then he slipped inside her and she was wrapped in him, around him, and the night shattered again in front of her eyes.
She woke him once more in the night, already slipping over him as he rose to consciousness. They made love silently, slowly, and when she fell asleep again, it was with him still inside her.
He woke her in return when the alarm went off loudly before he smacked the snooze button. He pulled her beneath him, finally able to see clearly in the morning light. “It’s set for a half hour early,” he told her, and took her mouth.
She fell asleep again in a tangle of warm sheets, the sound of his shower faint in her ears.
She was vaguely aware of sounds, later, that might be someone pulling clothes from drawers and tugging them on. And the clatter of metal and porcelain tugged at her brain, their meaning not quite apparent.
But the smell of coffee was clear enough, even to her sleep-befuddled head, so she pulled on Tyler’s T-shirt again and followed the scent into the kitchen. Tyler was sitting at the miniscule kitchen table, a mug of coffee at his elbow.
A second mug rested near the edge of the table closest to the door. Behind it was a small electric fan, pointing steadily toward the bedroom and blowing the scent of dark roast through the room.
“Cute.” She grabbed the mug and turned to climb onto his lap, straddling him on the chair. Draping herself bonelessly against him, she brought her hands together behind his head and lifted the mug to her mouth, careful not to spill. She sighed. “Mmm, coffee. Good.”
“Good morning to you, too, darlin’.” His words were muffled in the fabric covering her shoulder. He pressed a kiss there. “Sleepy?”
“Waking up.” She took another large swallow and felt the caffeine work its magic on her fuzzy head. “Are you leaving?”
“Duty calls. Or, at least, beer vendors do. And you have Sarah’s spare key, so you can sleep as late as you like.” He ran his hands up her bare thighs. “I wish I could stay here with you.”
“Mmm.” Her head was clearing, and with that, and more coffee, came interesting ideas. She dropped the mug on the table and pulled herself up straight. Her arms were draped over his shoulders, and she scraped her nails through the short hair at the back of his neck. “You could stay here.” She pressed her mouth to his, teasing it open with her tongue. “Just for a little bit longer.”
She felt him harden against her thigh and smiled with pleasure. Tyler’s hands reached up to tug hers from his neck and hold them sedately at her sides. “Grace, I can’t be late.” He still held her hands, so she brushed her breasts against him and felt him flinch. Eyes with heavy lids locked with his, she pressed herself against his lap and made herself tremble. “Grace. I have people.” A shudder. “People waiting. I can’t be late.”
With a quick tug, she was free and snaking her hands down to his waist, working swiftly at his jeans. When he sprang free into her hands, she held him strongly.
“If you can’t be late,” she told him, feeling wicked and loving it, “then you’ll just have to be fast.”
She took him into her and felt the light breaking through her again.
When she woke again, the light was shining intensely through the window and the apartment was silent around her. She slid out of bed, still in Tyler’s T-shirt, and walked to the bathroom, wincing slightly at the soreness in her thighs and other, more intimate places. The thought made her smile.
In the bathroom, she caught herself in the mirror and the smile faded. Her blond hair was knotted from hours of passion and sweat. Nonetheless, her roots showed clearly the chestnut hair growing in and this obvious sign of her deception was enough to stop her cold.
She leaned over the sink, unhappy with the picture reflected opposite her. The woman in the mirror looked well-loved, lips swollen and red from rough kisses. A faint bruise was emerging on her thigh where Tyler had gripped her hard in the previous night’s dark. The shadows under her eyes spoke of a night not spent asleep.
She looked like a woman who’d spent the night making love.
Making love. The words rolled ominously around in her head. Making love. Not “having sex.” Grace knew the difference, and knew what she and Tyler had done wasn’t just sex. She’d known she was falling in love with him as she’d lain down to sleep with him on the floor last night; she’d chosen to stay anyway. She’d lain with him and been wrapped in his life as surely as she’d been wrapped in his arms. She couldn’t argue with that.
Can’t argue with it? The voice in her head was outraged. And bitter. How real is it, Grace, when you say you’re in love with the man and you don’t trust him enough to tell him a goddamn bit of truth about yourself? How real is it, when everything he knows about you is a lie?
“I have told him the truth, basically,” she argued with herself in the mirror. She couldn’t meet her own eyes. “He knows everything important about me.”
Stop fooling yourself, damn it. You don’t think the fact that you’re Grace Haley, millionaire and restaurant powerhouse, is going to be considered an important thing? That your engagement to another man has been announced publicly in the society pages of several newspapers?
Get real.
In the shower, she pressed her face into the spray and let the water run over her face, her mouth open beneath the fall. She braced herself against the wall with her hands and leaned into the blast, scalding hot water coursing down her skin. The spray pounded at the top of her skull, but couldn’t wash away the one thought that kept returning to her over and over.
She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a plush towel around herself, avoiding even a glimpse of herself in the fogged mirror. But she couldn’t avoid the inescapable conclusion pushing to be acknowledged.
She made it to the bedroom, shutting out that voice. But the sight of the twist of sheets on Tyler’s bed where she’d so recently slept with him was a smack in the face. She sank onto the edge of the mattress and dropped her head.
“Ah, damn.” The pain was physical, a jagged tear chasing her heart beneath her breastbone.
She was a coward.
From the moment she’d left her restaurants, left her condo, her life, she’d been running. Running hard and fast enough to keep her own thoughts confused. Telling herself that she just needed the distance, the space to figure out what to do.
Instead of sticking to what she knew was right, she’d let other people intimidate and threaten her into giving up and fleeing the field. She’d yielded at the first push, to people who had no real power to hurt her, or her business.
Her mother certainly couldn’t hurt her. She rarely bothered to stop in Chicago, in between her jaunts to the various tropical playgrounds of the wealthy and bored. An occasional request for more money to be deposited in her account was the extent of Grace’s contact with her.
Not even her Charles, the titular head of her family’s corporation, could cause her any real trouble. To begin with, his complete ignorance of the business limited his options to act. And with fifty percent of the company stock in her name, although Grace didn’t hold a majority and couldn’t get rid of him without support from other family members, support that would not be forthcoming, neither could he make any serious business decisions without her approval.
At least, he couldn’t if she were there to state her refusal to go along with his commands.
“Damn it, what were you thinking?” Her fists were hard against her temples. She felt as though she’d p
ulled herself free of a pool of thick mud and was only now managing to clear the filth from her eyes. The foolishness of her actions was glaringly apparent to her, as it would be to anyone who was thinking straight.
Running away hadn’t been the answer.
She knew the answer to make now, and that was to return to her life and fix her own problems.
To stop lying to the people she’d met here, people she was coming to care about.
The immediate release of the tension she’d been carrying around in her muscles for weeks on end was bodily sensation. Like having treated herself to a full massage. The relief was overwhelming, and a clear sign that she was making the right decision.
I don’t know what happened to me. But somehow, after Grandmother died, I lost my way. I let Charles and Mother take control of my life. Somehow things got to the point so that when they decided that Charles and I should get married, I didn’t even have the strength of will to tell them no.
But no more. I’ll straighten out my business and my life, and settle matters with my family, and then I’ll sit down with Tyler and explain to him who I am and why I lied to him about everything.
He would be mad. No doubt about that. In fact, perhaps mad was not the word. Irate. Furious. Angry beyond all attempts to repair. But she would make him listen. Hadn’t he known from the beginning that she was holding back something from him? And hadn’t he given her permission to do so, until year’s end, as long as she came clean then?
You’d have until the end of the year to straighten out whatever problems you have, and I’ll help you out any way I can. But on December thirty-first, New Year’s Eve, you sign on one hundred percent, and there’ll be no more hiding for you. Do we have a deal?
At Your Service (Silhouette Desire) Page 12
