by Tricia Jones
He didn’t stop until they were on the patio. Strung with fairy lights and dotted with just a few couples brave enough to endure the evening’s chill, the patio offered refuge from the noisy dance floor. Its limited space provided little in the way of privacy, but Nathan found them a corner.
Stone nudged against her back as he pressed her against the wall, the scrape of foliage from a nearby bush skimming her arm. Then she didn’t feel anything except Nathan’s mouth on hers. He made no attempt to ease her into the kiss. Instead he exacted an intimacy more suited to lovers familiar with each other’s ways. His lips were warm, full, demanding, and…oh heavens…he tasted so good. Chloe wrapped her arms around his neck and all but plastered herself against him. She heard herself, the little moans and whimpers, but ignored the mental warnings to stop. His arms were so tight around her she could barely get her breath.
His mouth travelled along her jaw, skimmed over her throat, and all she could do was lower her lids as the warmth of his breath trailed over sensitive flesh. “Nathan…”
The slide of his hands over her back sent silk rustling, and she might have stopped those hands before they caught her buttocks, before they squeezed…
“Nathan. You have to stop. People are looking.” She didn’t know if they were or not—her eyes were still closed—but this was getting way out of control. She snatched a quick, shuddering breath and used her own hands on his shoulders to ease him back.
His eyes were smoke, the reds and greens of the fairy lights smouldering in their depths. His hair was ruffled at the collar where her fingers had been busy.
Chloe kept her hands firmly on his shoulders while she took a moment to steady herself. “That was pretty thorough.”
“I’m just warming up.” Then, with his arms around her, hands linked at the back of her waist, he said, “Come home with me. I have something to show you.”
She pulled back and angled her head to give him a reprimanding look. “I don’t think so.”
Releasing her, he offered up his palms in a gesture of reassurance. “No funny business,” he confirmed. “Not unless you decide to start some, and then I’d be only too happy to participate.”
She had to laugh. “What did you want to show me?”
He pursed his lips, shook his head. “First you have to trust me enough to come back with me.”
“Are you the sort of man I should trust?”
He tapped his forehead in mock salute. “I was a cub scout.”
She bit back a giggle. “Absolutely no funny business?”
“Absolutely, although I must insist that kissing doesn’t qualify as funny business. This chocolate addiction is pretty powerful stuff.” When her lips twitched, he slipped his arms around her waist and dropped his forehead to hers. “Aside from that, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”
She considered that for a moment, waited for all the doubts and warnings to come swimming to the surface of her mind. When they didn’t, she decided to simply make another memory. “I’ll just tell my friends I’m leaving.”
Chapter Six
Having promised Pam she would ring the next day, Chloe made her way from the cloakroom to the lobby. Her heels clicked over the marble floor as she swung her black wool wrap across her shoulders. She wouldn’t think about it, she decided. She wouldn’t question the wisdom of spending what was left of the evening in a secluded house on a cliff with a man she was finding harder to resist by the minute. No. This time she would just go with the flow. Trust her instincts.
When she saw Nathan in the lobby, a long dark coat over his tuxedo, the collar of which was raised in readiness for the onslaught of the night chill, all those instincts screamed at her to run. As fast as her three-inch heels would carry her.
He took her arm, steering her around the side of the building away from the parking lot. “Where are we going?” Chloe managed, panic skittering down her spine as he led them toward the quay. “I don’t… Nathan… I can’t.”
They stood together on the jetty, and Chloe stared down at the elegant cabin cruiser rocking gently beside it. Panic surged through her now, a clammy heat in her veins, nausea churning her tummy as she clutched a damp palm to it.
“You said you’d trust me.” Nathan eased the hand from her tummy, linked their fingers. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Chloe.”
Hot tears pooled at the back of her eyes and her throat tightened. “I know, it’s…” She took a deep, shuddering breath and willed back the panic. “I haven’t been on the water for such a long time, I don’t think I can do it.” She looked up at him, surprised that the reassuring look on his face soothed her a little. “I’m scared, Nathan.”
“That’s why you need to do this.” He stepped into the boat, keeping his gaze on hers as he gave her hand a little tug. Since all the feeling had left her legs, she tightened her grip on his hand, hanging on for dear life as he helped her aboard. She swallowed over and over as the boat rocked against the movement. Her throat was painfully tight and she had the ridiculous urge to cry. Instead, she bit her lip and clung to Nathan’s hand as he eased her into the seat.
He crouched in front of her. “Okay?”
No! God, no! She was far from okay. She wanted to get off this boat, but she couldn’t move. Her whole body felt like stone. She held her breath. Perhaps if she held her breath. Then the boat wouldn’t rock, then she wouldn’t be sick. Oh God.
She was only vaguely aware of Nathan trying to pry her fingers from his, until he laughed softly. “You have to let go, honey. I need to start the engine.”
With her hands bereft of the safety of his, she tightened her fingers around the edge of the seat.
The engine droned to life and Chloe intensified her grip as the cruiser rocked and swayed during its turn into the harbour. She focused on Nathan’s back, wide and safe, as he stood at the wheel, his long coat whipped by the breeze. Chloe swallowed again, but her mouth was painfully dry. She wouldn’t look at the water. If she didn’t look at the water maybe she’d be all right. She ordered herself not to think, not to remember.
Across the bay, Nathan’s house stood out on the cliff, a lone light burning on what her fuzzy brain made out as the terrace. It wasn’t that far, she decided, sucking in a breath. It would only take, what, ten minutes to get there? But Nathan was steering them out to sea, and the recognition of that had tears pooling again.
She wanted to hate him for this, for making her do this. She wanted to place her fists on that broad, solid back of his and beat him until he took her back to safety.
Anger born of fear steadied her enough to notice the engine had stopped. Then fresh panic soared as her already tense body tightened painfully. Her heart thumped nearly out of her chest. “What happened? What is it?”
Nathan dropped down in front of her. “I cut the engine for a moment, nothing to worry about.” He wrapped his hand around her ankle and lifted it. “We’d best take these off, then you can get the feel of her beneath you.”
“What? Get the feel of who?”
“The Minerva. The boat.” He placed her shoes on the seat and, taking both her hands in his, coaxed her to stand. “You feeling okay?”
She swallowed. It seemed to be the only thing she was capable of doing since she’d stepped into this nightmare. “No. I’m not. I don’t want to be here, Nathan. Can’t we just go back?”
His eyes were as dark as the night sea. “Then you’ll miss my surprise.” He eased her in front of the wheel. “Plant your feet,” he instructed, nudging them apart. The floor felt cold and clammy beneath her stockinged feet, but she did as he said.
The engine rumbled to life when he turned the key and Chloe sucked in a breath. She jerked as Nathan secured her back against his chest, felt her knees tremble with something entirely unrelated to terror when he reached down and caught her hands in his. Slowly, he lifted their joined hands and placed them on the wheel.
“There. See that light straight ahead? Let’s head for it.”
She no
dded and tried not to sink back against him. It must have been the fact that she was in control of the boat, because suddenly she felt safer, steadier. She looked down at those big hands covering hers.
He rubbed his cheek against hers. “How does she feel?”
For the first time since she’d seen the Minerva, Chloe trembled a smile. “She feels good. Solid.”
Nathan brushed his thumbs over her fingers, but he kept his hands firm above hers. His breath whispered against her ear, “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close your eyes,” Nathan repeated. “Keep your hands on the wheel, but close your eyes. Don’t worry,” he said as she tilted her head to look at him. “I’ll steer us.” When her brow crumpled, he laughed. She turned her head forward and let her eyelids flutter down.
“Now feel,” he said. “Feel the wind on your face, in your hair.” And how you feel around me, Chloe thought as her senses spun. How safe your arms feel, how warm your cheek feels against my face, your big hands over mine.
“Now listen,” Nathan encouraged, “to the music of the sea, the song of the air.” And your voice whispering in my ear, Chloe thought, catching her lower lip between her teeth.
“Smell.” He nuzzled into her hair. “Smell the air tonight.” And you, she thought, masculine and heady, salty like the sea that’s so much a part of you.
Now she did sink back against him, nestling her head against his throat, only half aware of the gentle rocking of the boat as it turned. “This is lovely.”
“Glad you’re enjoying it.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “You can open your eyes now.”
She didn’t want to. Really didn’t want to. Apart from the fact that she felt easier, safer with her eyes closed so she couldn’t see the water, she liked being with him like this. Feeling him against her. Just the two of them.
Her eyes shot open at the sound of the engine slowing. She blinked. Twice. Then her hands shot to her face. “Oh.” She laughed, delighted. “It’s beautiful.” In front of them was the cluster of rocks her father used to sail them out to see, the rocks where, as a child, he’d told her stories of mermaids who lived beneath them. Now there were coloured beacons driven into the crevices, lighting up the curves and corners like a fairy grotto. “How on earth…” She laughed again as Nathan steered them slowly around the rocks. “Don’t tell me you did this?”
“Can only take the credit for the idea, I’m afraid. Had to bribe a couple of marina workers to come and do the hard graft of planting the beacons.”
“It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen it lit up like this. I didn’t think it would be allowed.”
“I got a special concession. One night only.”
She couldn’t bear to take her eyes from the scene. It looked so magical, so much like a fairytale, that she was certain a mermaid could appear at any moment. “Why on earth would you go to so much trouble?”
His hands tightened over hers at the wheel and he leaned in closer. “Everyone should enjoy the water, respect it, but not fear it.”
That he would do this for her, that he would think of it, caused her insides to melt. This might be the best memory of him yet. When he left, she would always have this.
Sometimes memories were the only things left, but wasn’t it better to have built them, experienced them, than to cut yourself off from the very things that made life worthwhile?
“We’ll have a better view from my terrace.”
His voice washed over her, and she felt the thrill of it down to her toes. She gave them a wiggle, felt the damp knot of deck beneath her stockinged feet. She wanted to stay here, like this. She wasn’t sure how she wanted things to go from here, hadn’t had time to figure that out. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She wanted to be with him, wanted his body against hers. Wanted him… Oh God, just wanted him.
“Chloe?”
“Yes.” She whispered it back and felt her body shift against him as he turned the boat toward the big house on the promontory.
The jetty at Sharp’s Point was on the far side of the bay, and the steep steps carved from the rock face led directly to the Fisher house. Chloe slipped on her shoes. By rights she should have been glad to get back on terra firma, but a sharp wave of nerves assaulted her when she reached out her hand to take Nathan’s as they stepped from the boat.
Her legs trembled while she watched Nathan secure the craft, probably because it had been so long since she’d been on the water, and because her legs ached from the unaccustomed heels.
He said nothing, just caught her hand again and led them to the steps, where lighting, inset and subtle, had the path glowing like a vertical runway. When Chloe stumbled, his fingers dug in, securing her. “Better take off those shoes,” he suggested. “The path’s rocky in places.”
When her legs started trembling again, her insides joined them. It was a simple enough suggestion, but it sounded so erotic. Her stomach revolved at just the thought of taking anything off in Nathan Fitzgerald’s presence.
“I can’t,” she said as Nathan bent to help her slide one off. “I mean, I’ll…err… I’ll ruin my stockings.”
He looked up and what light there was caught in his eyes as they widened. “Stockings? You’re wearing stockings?”
He looked at her legs, ran his gaze up and down the length of them before looking up at her again with a dark and predatory look. Chloe rolled her eyes. What was it with men and stockings?
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Look, I’ll manage, okay?” She hurried, as best she could in the heels, toward the steps.
She was suddenly swung around by the firm grip on her wrist.
“I’ve got a better idea.” He leaned down, and before Chloe could protest, he had the shoes off and one stuffed in each of his coat pockets. He turned away from her and Chloe let out a startled scream as he bent, reached his arms back, and swept her up in a piggyback. Plastered against his back, her legs hooked around his waist and his strong arms supporting her thighs, Chloe slapped at his shoulder.
“Oh, you idiot. Let me down.” She gave his shoulder another slap, and as the shock wore off, stifled a laugh. No way did she want to encourage him, and he was already on the steps.
“Nathan, let me down.” She was giggling now, her shoulder bag dangling from the crook of her elbow, her arms clinging to his neck as he jogged up the steps. “This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.”
She continued her half-baked protests until they reached the top. At the house, she stopped laughing, expecting him to put her down. He didn’t, just released one arm from around her leg, pushed back his coat, and dug into his trouser pocket for the front door key.
“Nathan, let me down now.” Her tone was low and firm, devoid of humour as the edge of panic set in. They were at his house—alone—and she’d never wanted anyone so much in her whole life.
“Not yet.” He slipped the key in the lock. “I haven’t given anyone a piggyback in years, I’m enjoying it.” Inside, he turned his back to the door and used Chloe’s body to edge it slowly closed.
“Now, will you let me down?” Since he was already loosening his grip on her legs, she slid slowly down his back, not surprised the feeling had left her legs. Chloe secured the strap of her bag, tightened the wrap from where it had slipped from her shoulders. “You’re ridiculous.”
He grinned, foolishly. “You’re wearing stockings. What’s a man to do?”
“I’d hoped you were just being gallant.” She grinned back. Couldn’t help it. There was something about him that made every sensible thought in her head disappear, made every warning she’d given herself fade into oblivion.
It was pure instinct that had her moving two steps back as he moved forward. Then there was nowhere left to go as her back hit the door. She watched him all the time while her heart thumped, and the breath caught in her throat.
When he braced a hand on the door at either side of her head, she swallowed. Hard.
His eyes searched hers. “It’s still there, Chl
oe.”
“What is?” She swallowed again, surprised she could actually speak.
“Panic. Right there in your eyes. When are you going to trust me?”
“I do trust you. It’s just…” His gaze dropped to her mouth and made her insides shake. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
“And this would be?”
Why couldn’t she just stop swallowing? “You and me. Sex.” In the semi-darkness, she felt her cheeks burn, but at least she’d found her voice—and her composure. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you brought me here. You thought we’d have sex.”
He frowned and pursed his lips. “Let me think. Yes. Not entirely. I was hoping. In that order.”
For some reason his serious expression annoyed her. It also annoyed her that in her bare feet she felt woefully inadequate to stand her corner. At least in shoes she didn’t feel entirely swamped by his physicality. His sheer masculine force. Maybe she was just kidding herself, but anyway.
She reached for his coat pockets, intending to grab for her shoes. The movement caused her to lean forward. Big mistake.
His mouth came down on hers, hard and determined. He didn’t touch her, but kept his hands braced on the wall either side of her. Chloe felt the punch of him even so. Apart from his lips, they were barely touching, and it was Chloe who leaned in. Chloe who made little appreciative noises as she stretched up on tiptoe to get a better grip on him. She forgot about the shoes, instead letting her hands skim up the fabric of his coat.
Still he didn’t touch her, but the kiss heated and his tongue pushed into her mouth. Chloe murmured into the hot, erotic taste of him. He’d kissed her before, but not like this. This was possession, this was how it felt to be devoured.
Her hands moved to his back and pressed in. She felt so desperate to have his arms around her, her own arms ached with the effort of coaxing him close. She craved his touch. She wanted those big hands on her. She wanted to be wrapped up in him.
He seemed determined not to oblige. His back muscles felt taut beneath her fingers, and she could almost sense his body resisting her.
