Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  “Yes, now. Right now,” she gasped eagerly, “Please.”

  “Here?” he whispered, as his tongue made slow, lazy circles around her nipple.

  “Here, anywhere... I don’t care. Just, please, make love to me. Now.”

  “Ohhh, yes. Just like that,” he groaned approvingly, a few moments later; his eyes sliding shut as his grasp on her thighs tightened and he thrust himself slowly, deeply, completely into her.

  Her arms tightened on him as well, her legs wrapping themselves around his hips almost automatically. She let her head fall back. Her heart began to beat faster, in time with his thrusts.

  “Oh, God,” she heard herself murmuring frantically, breathlessly, brokenly, “Oh, Sam. Oh, I love... I love... how you feel. How you... what you... the way, it’s so ... so very... very...”

  “That’s it,” he growled, as he pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, “Come for me. Come now!”

  “No!” She pulled herself back from the brink, her hands sliding up to frame his face and turn it upwards. “No. You come with me,” she urged, lowering her face to his.

  She could have sworn she felt a small explosion as her lips met his, and an instant later she heard his startled cry, muffled against her lips, felt him surge into her one last time. She felt the hot jet blasting deep inside her, blowing everything within her sky high; and she came and she came and she came...

  She was a long time recovering. And oh, God, she loved how it felt, how everything felt, how she felt, how he felt. She loved the way his arms were wrapped around her, solid and warm, his hands softly caressing her back. Loved the way his hips were still trapped between her thighs; the way her fingers felt, splayed against his shoulders; the way the scent of him filled her nostrils. She loved the salt taste of his skin on her lips as she dropped kisses in the curve of his neck.

  “Oh, Sam,” she breathed, “I love you.” And she winced at the sound of the words.

  She froze, unable to believe what she’d just done, what she’d gone and said. She wasn’t sure, but she thought he did, too, for just an instant. At least, as much as either of them could freeze, while their lungs still heaved like bellows.

  She cleared her throat and pulled away a little. “I uh, I’m gonna be late for work. You’d better let me go, now.”

  He was staring her, but though she felt his gaze, hot on her face, she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

  “Okay,” he said at last, his voice calm as he lifted her down off the sink. He tugged at her hand, “C’mon. It’ll save some time if we shower together.”

  And she was so confused and bewildered – by her unexpected confession, by his total lack of a response – that she didn’t even see the lie for what it was.

  * * *

  “I don’t know how you could have thought something like that was going to save us any time!” Marsha told him as she quickly navigated the canyon road a long while later. She was dressed in the clothes she’d worn the day before, and it was too late now to stop at her house for anything clean.

  “That might have been a slight miscalculation on my part,” Sam answered agreeably, too content to be bothered by any of it. “But I had no idea you were going to jump me like that.”

  “Jump you? Ha!” A fiery blush spread over her cheeks. “I did no such thing.”

  “Oh, yeah, you did.” He chuckled, remembering how she’d felt, warm and soft and slick, as he’d pressed her up against the wall of the shower, their hands entwined on either side of her head, kissing her practically senseless. Deliberately feeding the hunger he’d created in her.

  When he’d let her go so he could lift her against him, she had lunged for him, mindless with need, almost knocking them both off their feet. “You absolutely did.”

  “I slipped,” she informed him loftily.

  “Uh-huh.” He turned his head to watch her; admiring the way her hands slid on the steering wheel, the fluid coordinating of shift and clutch, the concentration with which she watched the road. “Slipped. Right. Whatever you say, angel.”

  He’d been stunned when she said she loved him. Equally stunned by the automatic response that had risen to his lips, and which he’d only just managed to bite back in time. I love you, too, angel. He couldn’t be sure if it was how he felt; he hadn’t even considered it until that moment. But he knew one thing for certain. For him to speak the words now – even if they were true – but with so much else still left unsaid between them, would be truly unforgivable.

  But if he couldn’t tell her how he felt, maybe he could show her. Or so he’d hoped when he’d lured her into the shower, wanting only to do something nice for her.

  To care for her. Pamper her. Indulge her. Make her feel cherished.

  He should have known she would insist on returning the favor.

  And in the end, it had been a toss-up, he had to admit, as to who had shown what to whom. He had no idea it was even possible to feel the fevered rush of blood beneath your skin, while standing beneath the full blast of a cool shower. Until now.

  He rested his head against the back of the seat, and closed his eyes. Obviously, he’d have to think of some other way to show her how he felt. Something that was less likely to turn so scorchingly sexual would not be out of place, right about now. Definitely something a whole lot less physically demanding, in any case.

  He braced one foot on the dash and tried to stretch out. But it was hopeless. He could not get comfortable. Either these fleece seat covers were entirely useless, or the seats they covered had been reupholstered, at some point, by some joker using concrete. If these weren’t the world’s most uncomfortable vehicle seats, he hoped he never had occasion to sample anything worse.

  “Just how old is this van, anyway?” he couldn’t help asking as he shifted once again.

  “About as old as I am.” she replied with a little smile, but without taking her eyes from the road. “Why?”

  “Oh, no reason, really. I must say, you’re certainly holding up better than it is.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked, so surprised she actually turned her head to stare at him for just an instant. “How can you say that? That’s ridiculous, Sam. This van is in great shape!”

  He thought about that for a few minutes, silently considering every response that sprang to mind, and finally deciding that his only viable option lay in changing the subject. They’d come out on the Coast Highway by then, and the morning sunlight glittered blindingly on the waters of the bay. “So what do you know about this place?” he asked, indicating the large wood, glass and copper structure they were passing. “Is it any good?”

  “The Old Coastanoan? What, do you mean the restaurant, or the inn itself?”

  “Either one. The restaurant, I guess.”

  “Oh. Yeah, it’s supposed to be very good. I haven’t actually been there myself, but it’s got a reputation for having quite the romantic atmosphere. I’ve also heard that the food is wonderful. And, as you can imagine, given the location, they’ve got fabulous views. It’s very expensive, of course, but...” She shrugged, her mind obviously on other things.

  “It sounds perfect. Will we need reservations, do you think?”

  “Reservations?” She glanced at him, a puzzled expression on her face. “What are you—”

  “For tonight.”

  “You want to go there tonight?” she chewed her lip. “You mean for dinner? With... do you mean with me?”

  “Well, yeah,” he chuckled. “Is that all right?”

  “I uh, I guess so... but... why do you want to do that?”

  “You do know, don’t you, that you sometimes ask the strangest questions of anyone I’ve ever known? You’re asking me why do I want to take you out for a nice, romantic dinner?”

  She sighed and a small frown furrowed her forehead. “I don’t know what I’m asking.”

  “That makes two of us,” he assured her. “Is there someplace else you’d rather go?”

  She squirmed uncomfortabl
y. ““No. That is… it’s really nice of you, and all, but we really don’t have to... well, you know.”

  “We don’t have to... what?” He couldn’t help smiling. “We don’t have to eat? Trust me, angel, if we keep going at anywhere near this pace, we’ll definitely need regular meals.”

  “That’s not what I meant. It’s just—” She was suddenly so edgy that his smile faded as he wondered what was coming next. “Look, I think we need to get some things straight before we go any farther.”

  Uh-oh. Danger signals flashed through his brain. “Okay,” he said slowly. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I don’t want – I mean, you shouldn’t feel like you have to do anything special, or behave in some... particular way, or... or, say things.” She broke off, then tried again. “It’s just that... well, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it, by now? I’m gonna sleep with you anyway. I mean, if that’s what you want. So it’s not like you have to, to be so... so... so nice about everything all the time, just to—”

  He twisted around to stare at her. “Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” he rasped hoarsely, so angry he could barely speak at all. “If I want—? Nice? I… Marsha, what are you saying? You think I’m trying to bribe you with dinner, or something? So you’ll have sex with me again?”

  “No! Well, not exactly.”

  “Not exactly? Lady—” He broke off in frustration, unable to decide who he was more angry with – her, or himself.

  Okay. So. Obviously the shower had been a much bigger mistake than he’d even realized. Instead of showing her how much he might actually have come to care for her, all he’d done, apparently, was convince her that he was only interested in her for sex!

  Which was amazingly unfair, he thought, much aggrieved, given the phenomenal restraint he’d demonstrated all week long. Hell, he could have medalled in restraint, and she – what was wrong with the woman, anyway?

  He should have figured that he couldn’t give her anything she wouldn’t insist on returning, in full measure. Right from the start, it had been obvious that she would always give back at least as good as she got. That she’d always uphold her end of any bargain she entered into. And that she’d never, ever allow herself to take advantage of anyone.

  She was the fairest, warmest, most giving person he had ever known, and he should have realized, right from the start, that there wouldn’t be any way for him to avoid falling in love with her.

  The realization, when it came, shook him to the core.

  He should have figured out – days ago – that he already had. And the hell of it was that he still couldn’t tell her. Not yet.

  “No, that’s not what I meant,” she said, her voice filled with misery – at having caused him pain, he realized, his jaw clenching at the thought. “Of course I don’t think that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Would it work?” he asked bluntly, deliberately interrupting her apology. She had nothing to apologize for, he was the idiot here, after all. But maybe he could work with that.

  “Would, huh? Would what work?” He had clearly confused her with the change of subject. “What are you talking about?”

  “Bribing you. With dinner. ‘Cause if that’s the case, I’m telling you, doll, I can’t wait ‘til tonight.”

  “What?” she squawked, caught between disbelief and outrage.

  “Sure. I mean, last night all I gave you was a lousy cup of tea; and look at where it got me. Holy hell. I mean, if I’d have known – I could have at least have offered you a cookie, or something to go along with it.”

  “Sam—”

  “You know, shit, what was I thinking? Forget the Coastanoan. Isn’t there anyplace even more expensive I can take you? Wow. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting really excited about this whole idea now. This could be major. In fact... why wait for dinner? You wanna go do lunch?”

  “All right, just cut it out,” she muttered, her face bright red. “You’ve made your point.”

  “Shit, I really wish you’d have said something sooner. We’d probably still be in the shower if I’d thought to offer you breakfast. Hot chocolate, maybe. Or even toast.”

  “You, you—” She gave a strangled gurgle of a sound, and was suddenly staring at him, the road forgotten. Laughter danced in her eyes. “Toast?” she asked incredulously. And then, “Huh. I wouldn’t even kiss you for toast.”

  “Eyes on the road,” he reminded her calmly, reaching out a finger to turn her face toward the front. And then letting it trail all the way down to her collar as he continued, “Of course, most of the food in the cabin already belongs to you, doesn’t it? So it probably wouldn’t be the same as actually buying you off.” He smiled. “It’s too bad, too. ‘Cause that would’ve been a helluva racket. Man, if I coulda seduced you with your own food, it wouldn’t even cost me anything then.”

  “Stop it. You’re being horrible.” But he could see the smile lurking in the corner of her mouth.

  He clasped his hand to his chest, as if stricken. “What? I’m not being nice anymore?”

  “No! I take it back. You’re not at all nice.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Sam rested his head against the chair again. He was even getting used to this seat, he realized with a faint sense of surprise. It didn’t feel nearly as unyielding as it had a few moments earlier. Or maybe he was just too tired to care. He closed his eyes wearily.

  Now that he knew how he felt, he’d have to give some real thought to what he was going to do about it. He wasn’t even certain yet what he wanted to do about it. But one thing was crystal clear; if there was ever going to be even the slightest chance for things to work out between them, a lot of things would have to happen. And a lot of things would have to change.

  Maybe too many.

  “I just have one question.” Her quiet voice broke into his thoughts. He opened his eyes.

  “Sure, what’s that?” He turned toward her, and smiled at the martial glint in her eyes.

  “Were you, by any chance, talking about jelly with that toast... or just butter?”

  He laughed. “Angel, for you, I’d pull out all the stops. I’d even give you marmalade, if you wanted it.”

  “Well, in that case.” She appeared to consider the matter. “We could maybe work out... some sort of arrangement.”

  “Oh, God, Marsha. I hope we can,” he told her, meaning every word. “I really do hope we can.”

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Twenty Five

  * * * *

  Scout wandered downstairs, reveling in the quiet and the peace that had settled over the house. Nick’s mother had left earlier that morning to visit her sister and Scout felt like she was taking her first deep breath in a week. It was such a relief not to feel herself under constant scrutiny. She could tell it had been driving Nick crazy. And he in turn, had been driving her crazy, as well.

  When had he started trying to protect her from everything, she wondered, as she headed into the kitchen. She’d been out on her own since she was seventeen years old, for Christ’s sake. How in the hell did anyone think she had survived all these years if she was as fragile as Nick and Marsha – and even Lucy, on occasion – seemed to think? Not that she wasn’t thrilled to death to finally have people in her life again who really cared about her, but sometimes she wished they’d all just back off a little.

  Kate was in the kitchen when she got there, reading a book as she ate her cereal.

  “Hey, what are you reading?” Scout asked, taking a bag of decaffeinated coffee beans from the freezer. Kate jumped at the sound of her voice.

  “Oh... just a book I found in my room.” She spoke a little hesitantly. Scout glanced at the cover.

  “Oh, that was one of mine. I loved that book.” She couldn’t help smiling at the memory as she poured beans into the coffee grinder and pressed the button. She inhaled the delicious aroma and sighed happily. Early morning sunlight spilled in through the greenhouse windows and the
French doors leading out to the patio, warming the tiles of the counter and the floor beneath her bare feet. Scout felt her spirits rise, just remembering that she lived here now.

  “So, isn’t that a great book?” she asked cheerily.

  “Is it okay that I borrowed it?” Kate inquired, and Scout felt a bit of her happiness dissolve in the face of the girl’s uncertainty.

  “Oh, Kate, yes, of course it is!” She paused, her hands still on the grinder. “I guess maybe I should have asked you, instead of just putting them on your shelves. It’s just that I was so excited, when your dad and I were setting the room up for you – I kind of got carried away.”

  “It’s okay.” Kate shrugged, and took refuge in a big spoonful of cereal. Crunching away, Scout noticed, a lot more vigorously than the luridly colored, mostly marsh-mallow concoction could possibly require.

  “You know,” she told the girl casually, measuring coffee into the basket. “I wasn’t a whole lot older than you when I moved in to this house – that was when my father married my stepmother, Caroline.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Scout poured water into the coffee maker, and then sat down across from Kate while she waited for it to brew. “The thing is, I really want you to feel at home here, too. So if there’s anything you want to do—”

  “Could I maybe have Mandy come over?” Kate asked hesitantly. “You know, to spend the night? ‘Cause I always spend the night at her house, and her brother and his friends are really annoying”

  “Sure.” Scout grinned as she got up to pour coffee into one of Caroline’s mugs – she knew she would probably never be able to think of them in any other way, no matter how many years passed. “You know, I remember thinking the same thing, about spending the night at her mother’s house when we were kids. Her brother Joey used to drive us all crazy.”

  “You and Lucy were friends then, right?” Kate asked, looking suddenly more interested.

  Scout smiled. “Uh-huh.”

  “So... is that why Joey doesn’t like you now? Because of something that happened when you were a kid?”