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

by P. G. Forte

  She hadn’t even noticed that her arms had reached for him, that her fingers were once again digging into his shoulders; until she felt him pull her hands away and gently pin them to the bed. “Uh-uh,” he said, his voice was thick as he broke off the kiss at last. “Not this time, you don’t.”

  “Ryan,” she moaned his name as she felt his hand undo the clasp of her bra, felt the cup slide away from her breast, felt his hand close over her. “Ryan, please, take your clothes off.”

  “Later,” he said, his voice a warm whisper in her ear. His fingers tugged at her nipple. “Does this feel good, Siobhan?” Beyond speech, she nodded. “Hmm?” His teeth nipped at her earlobe. “I can’t hear you, sweetheart.”

  She squirmed restlessly. “Yes.” The word emerged as a shuddering gasp of a sound. She heard him chuckle as he shifted across her. His lips brushed hers once more, then moved down her neck to tickle the base of her throat. His hand uncovered her other breast, teased its peak erect; and then he dipped his head, caught the nipple between his lips and sucked at it. Sensations zinged through her, heat pooled in her pelvis.

  She moaned again, arching her back and reaching for him, but once again he pinned her wrist to the bed. “You’re really gonna make me go for those handcuffs, aren’t you?” he murmured. She writhed as she felt the pinch of his teeth on her nipple. “How about that?” he asked after a moment, breathing hard. “Is that good, too?” Again she nodded. “Say it,” he insisted, flicking his tongue across the rucked flesh that tipped her breast. “Tell me how it feels.”

  “Good. It feels... it feels good.”

  “Good.” He slid lower. Releasing her wrists he took both breasts in his hands, squeezing gently; the weight of him on top of her made her whole body throb. She bucked her hips against him, desperate for release from the building pressure.

  “Oh, God, Ryan, stop it, please!”

  He raised his head and looked at her. A small, mocking smile twisted his lips. “What’s the matter, Siobhan? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

  She stared back at him. She couldn’t even begin to answer that one. There was so much she wanted from him, so much she couldn’t tell him. Or could she? Nervous and uncertain, her mouth all at once unbearably dry; she ran her tongue across her swollen lips. Maybe if she told him again how she felt. Maybe, this time-

  “Do that again,” he murmured. She frowned at him uncomprehending. “Lick your lips for me,” he said as he shifted back up her body. His hands grasped hers once more, palm to palm this time, their fingers intertwined. She felt heat rise in her cheeks, and was nearly overcome with shyness.

  But then she looked into his eyes. God, she loved him. And if that’s what he wanted— Smiling, she slid her tongue slowly over her bottom lip. And then, even more slowly, back across the top. “Yes. Like that,” he groaned as his mouth swept down on hers, savage as a storm, in a kiss that was pure chaos.

  This wasn’t part of his seduction, Siobhan realized dimly, as the kiss spun even further out of control. He was as caught up, as swept away, as lost in the moment as she was. He had to love her, didn’t he? At least a little? For how could he not, and kiss her this way – as though he were trying to gain access to her soul. Eyes closed against the sudden flood of tears, she let the storm break over her and put everything she had into kissing him back.

  He pulled away from her suddenly. “Oh, God, Siobhan, I... I love... I, oh fuck. I love that. I— shit. Kiss me again,” he demanded breathlessly. His voice was harsh, ragged, an angry sounding growl that broke the mood as surely as his words broke her heart.

  “No.” She twisted her head away. “Stop it! Don’t talk like that.” She writhed beneath him, and if she had her hands free she would have hit him. Love? She couldn’t bear for him to use that word; not now, not when it was finally clear to her how little it meant to him. Her eyes were swimming with tears, and she couldn’t see his expression. But his voice was soft and rueful.

  “I’m sorry.” For just a minute, he rested his head on her chest. “Oh, Jesus, Siobhan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, honey, really, I just...”

  “No, that’s not... It isn’t-” she tried to explain herself, but he cut her words off with another quick kiss.

  “Shh, it’s okay. I understand. Let me make it up to you.”

  “Huh?” Make it up to her? Still blinking back tears she watched as he rose to his feet. Now what was he talking about? Not loving her back wasn’t the kind of thing you could make up to a person. So what could he possibly think he understood? He unzipped her jeans and she watched in amazement as he stripped them from her as easily as if they were gossamer. Then he was kneeling by the bed, spreading her legs, lifting her hips, his fingers gently parting her...

  She let her head drop back on the bed. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this, and she thought she knew what to expect. But at the first touch of his tongue, she realized how wrong she was. He was obviously out to prove something tonight. “Omigod, Ryan! I...” her voice trailed off into confusion. Heat blasted through her. Her legs trembled uncontrollably as his lips and his tongue teased and tickled her to a sharp, hard climax.

  She opened her eyes to find him watching her, his expression one of such unfulfilled longing, such aching, naked need that her heart fluttered out of control, as though it were a wounded bird, trapped in her chest. What was it he wanted, or needed, that she couldn’t give him? What was she lacking? Why wasn’t her love enough for him?

  When he lowered his head to her once more she gasped in surprise. “No, Ryan, wait. Stop. I- I can’t!”

  He glanced up again; his face transformed by a heart-stoppingly sexy grin. “Oh, yes, you can.”

  This time the sensations built more slowly, as he licked and tasted and tugged at her with devastating thoroughness. Words spilled from her lips in an endless, incoherent stream. The trembling in her legs became a quiver, became a torquing, twisting tightness. And then the tightness fell apart in a long, slow, shuddering release that left her limp and mindless, unable to account for the fact that she was suddenly face down on the bed.

  She heard the rasp of his zipper from somewhere behind her; the scrape of the night table drawer sliding open; then the crackle as he unwrapped a condom. She felt his legs between hers, urging them apart. Felt his hands as he guided himself into her. And then she was falling off the edge of the world again.

  She felt her own slickness as he thrust into her, harder and faster than ever before. Her hands clenched in the sheets. Her toes curled. Stray thoughts ran loose in her mind. His leg must be feeling better tonight, she thought. Either that, or they really should have tried this position sooner. “Omigod,” she moaned as she felt herself sinking into blissful oblivion, wanting nothing but to have the sensations she was feeling go on and on forever. “Oh, God, Ryan, I...”

  He leaned over her, dropping kisses across her shoulder and in the curve of her neck as he asked, “Want me, Siobhan?”

  She nodded. “Mmm.” Feeling brainless and boneless and almost unconscious. “Mm-hm.”

  “Then tell me. I need to know how you feel about me, honey.”

  “I want you, Ryan.” I want you, I need you, I love you. “I just... just want you. So much.”

  He sighed. For a moment he said nothing. “I want you, too, Siobhan,” he said at last, in a voice that was gravelly and low. “More than you realize. Much more. More than you’ll ever. Ever. Know.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust as he started moving within her once again.

  Why did he want her so much, she wondered as her brain headed towards meltdown. Why tonight? She wasn’t actually doing anything. She couldn’t do anything, except lie there and moan. Maybe that’s what he wanted? Someone passive and pliant? Too bad she couldn’t keep that up for very long. But not even to win his love could she reinvent herself to that extent.

  The sound that emerged from her throat this time was altogether beyond words. It started as a low moan and rose to something resembling a shriek. She
felt as if she were caught in the midst of an earthquake, everything inside her shattered and trembled and rocked. His hands clutched at her shoulders as he pushed into her again and again, and then went still.

  She was only barely aware of him climbing onto the bed, shifting her around so that she lay with her head on his chest, pulling the blankets up over them. She felt herself drifting away on a dark current of exhaustion.

  “It’s not just about sex, Siobhan. Is it?” His voice sounded sad and lonely, but that, she figured, was just imagination. He had no reason to feel sad tonight, after all. And neither of them had cause to feel lonely.

  “What isn’t?” she mumbled.

  “Us. This thing between us, whatever you want to call it. Our... our relationship.”

  “Oh.” Now he wanted to talk relationships? When she was too tired to even yawn? Perfect. “No. But that’s enough for now.” If he wanted conversation, he should have thought of that sooner. Like before he did this to her. She might love him to pieces – to the edge of madness, and beyond – but at the moment, she just couldn’t say one... more... word.

  Ryan watched as she faded away into unconsciousness. He’d learned a lot over the years from the women he’d been with. He’d learned how to drive a woman crazy, to make her mindless, to make her feel really, really good. He knew how to make her want him more than she wanted her next breath. But he’d never learned how to make someone fall in love with him. And he had no idea how to transform himself into the kind of man Siobhan could ever love. Even a little.

  He heard his dog whine and scratch at the bedroom door – probably needing a walk. Fantastic. Great timing. And just about the last thing he felt like doing at the moment. He glanced down at Siobhan, and smiled. Well, at least he’d done one thing right tonight, he thought as he slid out from beneath her and got out of bed. This was one time he wouldn’t have to worry about her running out on him – no matter how long he was gone. She wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. He’d made damn sure of that.

  * * * *

  There were no voices in the wind tonight. Just a cold, hollow howling and violent gusts that threatened to rip the shingles off the walls and roof of the cottage. Flames crackled in the fireplace, bright beneath a thick plume of black smoke. The man watched the flames with a thrill of pleasure; he was happy with his work tonight. Very happy. Siobhan would have a hard time recovering from this lesson.

  The smell of melted vinyl hung in the air, mixing with the scorched scent of burnt paper and hair and smoldering cloth. He just wished he could be around to see her face when she got back. When she found this latest gift he’d left her.

  But somehow, that thought didn’t bring the pleasure it should. Anger tightened in his chest as he thought about where she’d gone tonight, and what she’d done.

  Even now, the look and the sound of her was branded in his memory, every detail sharp and clear. And he could feel her still; her lips hot and wet against his own, her skin so soft beneath his fingertips, so warm, so sweet.

  But that hadn’t been enough for her, had it? He hadn’t been enough for her. She’d wanted more.

  Rage ignited inside him again and he reached into the basket he’d prepared for her and removed one more item. Plaster wouldn’t burn, perhaps, but it could be smashed against the hearth. It could be shattered. The pieces irrevocably broken. Like life itself.

  He watched smoke blacken the broken shards, but even that failed to lighten the anger. It wasn’t working tonight. Nothing was. So, maybe it was time to end this?

  Maybe it was time to bring down the curtain on this show. On this farce. On this game they’d been playing with each other for way too long.

  Maybe he was tired of being nothing more than a ghost in her life. A shadow. Maybe it was time to just fucking kill the bitch.

  Maybe. But he’d have to think about that a little more first. At least for a few days. Because death was so very final.

  If anyone deserved to die, it was Siobhan. He hadn’t always thought that, but these last few weeks... maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he’d seen the light.

  He giggled a little as he thought about that. He’d seen the light? Well, maybe. The light of the fire, definitely. The light, the truth and the way.

  But no, not the way. Not yet. Not quite...

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Twenty Six

  * * * *

  The ride back to the nature center the following morning was uncomfortably quiet. It seemed to Siobhan as though the silence between them stretched farther than the distance they had to travel.

  Last night she’d fallen asleep in Ryan’s arms, but when she woke up this morning she’d been alone. And neither the steaming coffee nor the freshly baked brioche he’d brought back from the market and served to her in his bed, had been enough to warm away the chill she’d gotten when she looked into his eyes and saw the coolness there.

  His face was haggard, as if he hadn’t slept at all, and there was a remoteness to his expression that was at odds with her memories of the night before. For the first time in almost a decade, she was embarrassed by her own carnality. She’d been willing to risk a little self-respect last night to be with him. She figured it was worth it, and really not much of a gamble, after all. She’d long ago come to terms with who she was. But she’d never considered that she’d also be hazarding the loss of his respect.

  Well, live and learn, she thought bitterly as she climbed the stairs to her porch. She should’ve known better than to assume she knew anything at all about the workings of the male mind. She hadn’t exactly been alone in that bed last night, now had she? And if what they’d done there together was somehow making him uncomfortable this morning; well, then he was the one with the problem. Not her.

  Yeah, right, she sighed tiredly as she pushed open the door of the cottage. Like that made it hurt any less. The stench from last night’s fire greeted her nostrils and she was immediately grateful that she had no class due today. Damn, but it reeked in here.

  “What in God’s name were you burning last night, anyway?” Ryan grumbled as he hurried across the room and began opening windows.

  What had she been burning that would smell this bad, she wondered as she looked around her. And how come neither of them had noticed it yesterday? She should have used more myrrh. She watched as he stormed around throwing the windows open – almost as if he owned the place. Shit.

  She should have waited until she knew she’d be alone and uninterrupted, is what she should have done. She should have done a better job of protecting herself, of guarding her secrets. And she definitely should have spent the night alone.

  “Well?” He turned to look at her, hands fisted on his hips. Obviously, he thought he was entitled to an answer.

  Well, too damn bad, she thought, temper flaring. Because he wasn’t going to get one. She did not need him thinking her crazy this morning, on top of everything else that had gone wrong. Even if it was the truth. No, especially since it was the truth. “That’s none of your business,” she told him, coolly. “Why don’t you turn on the fan? The switch is—”

  Hurt showed briefly in Ryan’s eyes, and then was gone again, replaced by a glassy, opaque hardness. “I know where the switch is,” he mumbled. She could hear his teeth grinding as he turned from her.

  She stared after him, uncertainly. That look in his eyes, just now – surely there was too much pain there for simple friendship? He loves me. Tears blurred her vision and she turned her head away. She couldn’t stand any longer not knowing if it was true or not. She had to gather her courage and ask him straight out. Even if he said no, it couldn’t be any worse than this continual raising and dashing of all her hopes. Could it? Her gaze fell on the hearth.

  Through the haze of tears, she stared at the jumbled, melted mass that met her eyes. And found, suddenly, that she could no longer breathe.

  There was a roaring in her ears and a low, moaning sound seemed to fill the air around her. A fine
trembling seized all her muscles. Oh, dear God, what had she done now?

  “Siobhan? Honey, what’s wrong?” Ryan’s voice came from far away, faint and dim, almost lost amid the other sounds.

  She blinked, and blinked again, but the picture didn’t change. She couldn’t be seeing what she was seeing. This couldn’t be happening. But it was. And she knew it.

  Strong arms closed around her; promising warmth, promising safety. “What’s wrong?” Ryan’s voice sounded so gentle, so loving, so concerned, as it vibrated along every nerve. But she couldn’t let herself take comfort in any of that right now. She pulled away from him and dropped to her knees in front of the fireplace.

  Reaching out a trembling hand, she touched the blackened, melted lump that had once been – there could be no mistake – one of her daughters’ favorite dolls. What had she done?

  She’d burnt Selke’s things. But that was all. The toys she had stored in a basket under her desk. A fitting memorial, and the least little bit of a send-off she could give him, after having forgotten almost entirely about him for a week. How on earth had the doll come to be mixed up with the dog’s toys? Unless...

  She looked again at the fireplace. Another spasm of anguish rocked her and she clasped her hand to her mouth to stifle her cry. More tears sprang to her eyes as she recognized a tiny scrap of embroidered cloth that had once been part of a christening gown... the charred remains of her photo album... and there on the hearth; tiny fragments of plaster that had once held the imprint of her babies’ feet. “No. Oh, no, please. Please not—”

  “Siobhan... what’s going on?” Ryan said moving towards her, his feet crunching the plaster into dust.

  “No!” The cry was torn from her throat. “Move. Move!” She shoved at him, but he wouldn’t budge. She pounded on his legs with her fists until he finally jumped back. Until he finally—