Undone by His Touch

by Annie West

  ‘You have?’ Astonishment made him reel, but not for long. Before she could come to her senses he kissed her neck and revelled in the pulse he found there pattering out of control. She tasted of salt water and sweet, vanilla-spiced Chloe.

  ‘You should go inside.’

  ‘I should want to leave.’ Her voice trembled.

  ‘Chloe?’ Was he hearing things? Imagining what he wanted to hear?

  But it was beyond him to push her away. With a groan, he captured her mouth.

  He couldn’t remember experiencing such a kiss before. Blindness made each sense more acute. She was sheer delight. He felt her smooth heat, each tiny tremble, smelled the fresh scent of her damp skin and devoured her sweetness—unique and addictive.

  She pressed close, giving back kiss for kiss in a cycle that grew from tentative to lush, from slow to hungry.

  Only the feel of water closing over their heads drew him back to sanity. Almost to sanity.

  Urgently Declan propelled them through the water till they reached the shallow end of the pool. The water fell to thigh height and still he held her against him.

  Each second he expected rejection, knew it was inevitable. Instead, he felt tiny ripples of arousal course through her. His pulse galloped. She kept one arm roped across his shoulders as the other slid down his abdomen.

  ‘Don’t.’ His voice was a strangled burr. ‘Not unless you want this over before it begins.’

  Her hand slipped away and fear scudded through him.

  ‘Do you want this, Chloe? Do you want me?’ Once he’d never have asked such a question. Once he’d been confident, even blasé about sex. But now, disabled and scarred, doubt racked him.

  He was so lost without his vision. He couldn’t even read her face. Tension gnawed at his belly; uncertainty.

  ‘I want you, Declan.’ It was the voice of a siren, low and intoxicating. ‘I want …’

  The rest of her words ended in a gasp as he lowered her onto a wide step and placed his hand, broad and sure, over that sweet spot between her legs. He felt her response as he took her mouth hungrily.

  Fire was in his blood, anticipation in every taut muscle. He’d only just sunk into her embrace, his fingers slipping beneath her bikini to find the nub of her pleasure, when she jolted in his arms, limbs stiffening.

  He swallowed her gasp of astonishment, felt the heavy pulse of delight at her centre, and then she was arching up against his hand, coming apart against his touch with an innocent ferocity that staggered him.

  ‘Declan!’ Her voice was a stunned thread of sound that circled his senses, ensnaring and bewitching. She clutched him as if he was the one solid point in her world and his chest swelled with emotion.

  He tasted her lips and her desperate enthusiasm drew him close to the edge. She was so hungry, so ready. That was an intoxication greater than any he’d known.

  ‘It’s been a long time for you,’ he murmured. He’d never known a woman so desperate for him. For sex, he amended. Yet the idea that she responded to him alone had a subversive glamour he couldn’t quite dismiss.

  ‘Too long.’ She pressed her lips to his, swirled her tongue between his lips. ‘Years.’

  Years? After just a few months of celibacy Declan was climbing the walls with frustration.

  That explained why she was willing to ignore his scarred features. Right now he almost didn’t care—he was so grateful for her eagerness and warm, responsive body.

  Resting his weight on one elbow, he dragged the bikini bottom away. She reached for him but he brushed her hand aside. Time for that later.

  It was the work of a moment to lift her higher on the steps so only her shins were submerged. Then he settled himself, low enough that her inner thighs were wet silk against his stubble. For a moment he wondered if his skin might be too rough, until she moaned and clutched his hair, drawing him to her.

  ‘Chloe, you’re driving me insane.’ The words were muffled against her skin as his body responded with a surge of heady arousal. She tasted delicious, sweet and salt. Her legs, cool and smooth, closed round him and she raised herself, a gift to be savoured.

  One kiss and she sighed. One slow flick of the tongue and her fingers tightened like talons in his hair. Declan didn’t mind. He didn’t want to be anywhere but here.

  He nuzzled her tender skin and she moaned his name in that throaty plea he could become addicted to.

  ‘You like that?’

  ‘You know I do. I can’t …’

  Her words trailed off as he caressed her again, felt the tiny tremor of pleasure wash through her like a wave.

  Declan smiled, savouring the taste of arousal, enjoying her reactions and the open, intensely exciting way she embraced pleasure.

  Had sex ever been so simple, so satisfying? His body throbbed hard in anticipation.

  One more slow, provocative kiss and the tremor became a quake that rocked her body, dragged the breath from her lungs in a shout of ecstasy. He tasted her pleasure, her thrumming pulse, and revelled in the feel of her finally relaxing in delight around him.

  He lifted himself higher, pressed a kiss to one delicious breast. Another to her parted lips as she lay gasping for air. She was still, supine and spent.

  On a tide of energy Declan got to his feet. He reached down to pull her up then stopped as sanity hit him with the cool night air.

  Doubt stirred. Harsh reality. He sucked in a gasping breath as his brain engaged.

  She’d been desperate for release. The merest touch had unravelled her. Would she still want him now, with the edge taken off her hunger? Or would his scars deter her? It was one thing to take what was offered, another to desire actively. He wanted her to come to him willingly, eyes open and sure, not out of pity or gratitude or indebtedness.

  He couldn’t bear the thought of her averting her eyes while he made love to her.

  Declan stepped from the pool before he could have second thoughts. Water sluiced around him and for one unsteady moment he could have sworn he saw the fuzzy outline of the pool’s rim lit by submerged lights.

  Then the unrelenting blackness closed around him, a reminder that hope was fake.

  Even so he refused to beg for scraps. Pride rose, his one defence.

  ‘I’m going to my room.’ His voice was thick. ‘You know where to find me if you want me.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHE wasn’t coming.

  Ridiculous to be so disappointed.

  He’d convinced himself Chloe wanted him as he did her. More, that they shared something even stronger—an understanding, a connection he couldn’t put a name to.

  He’d been a wishful fool.

  Stupid not to have taken what was offered when he’d had the chance. He’d let pride interfere, convincing him Chloe must come to him so he could be sure she wanted him, not just an anonymous orgasm in the dark.

  Now he cursed his ego. If he’d stayed, at least he’d have had release, pride or no pride.

  His body ached with arousal. It would ache for days to come.

  For weeks he’d considered finding a woman to ease the burn of need but hadn’t followed through. It was Chloe he wanted. Chloe he needed. Not some sympathetic ex-girlfriend or stranger.

  His jaw throbbed with tension and he cursed under his breath. This couldn’t go on. One of them would have to go. Tomorrow he’d …

  The sound of the door opening stopped all thought.

  ‘Chloe?’ Was that his voice—that husk of sound?

  ‘It’s me, Declan.’

  His chest expanded mightily as he drew his first unfettered breath since leaving the pool. The weight between his shoulders lifted and the swirl of agitation in his belly morphed into a pulse of anticipation.

  ‘You came.’

  ‘How could I not?’ Her voice curled around him, filling him with an unfamiliar sensation. Relief? Joy?

  He shook his head, telling himself his imagination ran riot, blaming it on sexual frustration.

  ‘Because you feel
you owe me.’ He gritted his teeth, so close to losing control he feared he wouldn’t be able to hold back, even if she admitted she was here out of pity.

  ‘No.’ She paused and he could swear he heard her breath on the night air. ‘Because I want you.’

  Her words scooped the breath from his lungs, leaving him hollow and strangely vulnerable.

  Was he really so desperate? It terrified him how much he needed that to be true. How much he needed from her.

  ‘Doing it with a blind man turns you on, does it?’ The words ripped out of his mouth before he could stop them.

  Chloe stifled a gasp as his words grazed like shattered glass across tender skin.

  Didn’t he want her here?

  Even now, seeing his rampant arousal as he stood naked in the light, she was tempted to turn tail. Hide again inside her shell of routine and professionalism and measured responses designed to keep emotions at a distance.

  Yet she stood rooted to the spot.

  She needed Declan like she needed to draw her next breath.

  Lust, yes, but far more too.

  It was too late to go back. It had been too late from the moment Declan had taken her in his arms.

  She understood now that much of his anger was self-directed. Frustration at his limitations kept him on edge and ready to lash out.

  Chloe told herself the rigidity in his big frame was from tension, not distaste. She’d felt his hands tremble with need before he’d abandoned her.

  Yet it took all her strength to face him, letting her presence brazenly declare her need. She’d been gutted when he left, overwhelmed by doubts and fears as well as cravings she barely understood.

  Declan Carstairs made her feel too much.

  Her hands shook and the tray rattled.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A tray. Wine. Food.’ As she spoke she walked to the other side of the king-sized bed and placed it on the hand-carved dresser. Holding the tray reminded her of her place in his household. Her paid role.

  But tonight she wasn’t his housekeeper. She firmed her lips, reminding herself they’d come together as equals.

  ‘You’re trying to turn this into some romantic encounter?’ His mouth lifted in a sneering smile that cut her to the core. She stilled, heart thumping.

  ‘You didn’t eat dinner and I thought you might be hungry.’ For the life of her Chloe wouldn’t admit that preparing the trappings of a romantic tryst had calmed her rioting nerves.

  Even after her abandoned behaviour in the pool, she had difficulty facing her desperate need for this man. She didn’t do quick, meaningless sex.

  Was she fooling herself believing there was more to this than sex?

  ‘Are you this abrasive with everyone?’ She planted her hands on her hips and stared at him across the bed. ‘So eager for confrontation?’ He looked magnificent, tall, powerfully muscled, outrageously virile. But he was an emotional minefield.

  ‘Or is it that you don’t want me, Declan, because I’m a mere employee?’ Finally her own anger exploded. ‘Is that it? You don’t think I’m good enough for you?’

  This man had shattered the barriers that had protected her feelings for six years. He’d broken through the impenetrable distance that had kept her safe and content. She hadn’t wanted to care about him, much less want him. She resented the way he’d turned her into a woman she barely recognised.

  ‘Of course I want you! What do you think this is?’ He lowered one hand to cup his impressive erection and her mouth dried as a jolt of sexual arousal quaked through her.

  She wanted to hold him there, feel the velvet-soft flesh over iron-hard erection. Her damp palms clenched and the pulse humming between her legs notched up to a heavy, needy beat.

  ‘Then what’s your problem?’ Her voice was choked. ‘Are you scared I’ll expect more than you’re willing to give? Do you think when the sun comes up tomorrow I’ll forget my lowly place in your employ?’

  Adrian Carstairs had tried to use her paid position as a lever to get her into his bed, at first cajoling and then threatening.

  ‘I don’t give a damn about your position.’ Declan’s voice was a lethal growl as he paced closer to the bed.

  ‘Then why don’t you like me?’ Her chin tilted defiantly.

  ‘Like?’ It was a raw shout. ‘Who says I don’t like you?’

  His hands fisted at his sides and, despite her anger and confusion, Chloe felt something inside melt at the erotically masculine picture he made. There was an elemental rawness, an unvarnished power that emanated from Declan even when dressed in a tailored suit. Now—naked, angry and aroused—he was breathtaking.

  Dampness bloomed at the apex of Chloe’s thighs and her pulse accelerated.

  ‘If it’s not me, then it must be you,’ she shot back. ‘What are you scared of, Declan?’

  ‘I don’t do scared.’ Yet she saw emotion ripple across his features, catching at his scar and stiffening that side of his face.

  Instantly her anger doused. There was something there … something troubling him … but he’d never admit it.

  ‘Then prove it. Get on the bed.’

  For an instant shock froze his features, then his lips curved up in a smile that looked more pain that pleasure. ‘What? You want to minister to the cripple’s needs? How magnanimous of you.’

  Something thwacked her hard in the solar plexus. Her chest tightened in a vicious cramp as she realised he truly saw himself as an object of pity. Tenderness welled with regret at how his accident had skewed his self-belief.

  He was more virile, more attractive, more real and strong than any man she’d ever known.

  Did he truly think she’d come here out of pity? She shook her head, her hair swirling around her shoulders.

  Declan Carstairs had turned her world on its head with the sheer force of his personality, making her feel emotions she’d never wanted or hoped to experience again. She was fast falling in love and he thought she felt sorry for him!

  ‘You’re no more a cripple than I am. But if it makes you feel better let’s pretend this has nothing to do with you.’ Pain speared her. ‘Let’s just say I’m here to satisfy my own needs.’ She hauled in a difficult breath, guessing if she revealed her feelings he’d turn away in an instant. ‘Does that make it easier for you and your ego?’

  ‘Chloe, I—’

  ‘Don’t, Declan. Please.’ Suddenly she felt stretched too thin, her control fragile. Chloe wrapped her arms around herself, as if to hold in the tensions tearing her apart.

  She couldn’t take much more. She faced needs and emotions that stunned her, that had erupted out of nowhere in her safe, stable world. Plus she confronted Declan’s hidden demons that she could only guess at.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Her gaze jerked back to his face, now solemn and calm.

  ‘I do want you, Chloe. I’ve been going crazy these last weeks, trying to hold back.’ His voice was hypnotically deep and enthralling, tugging her closer. His big hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as if seeking outlet for the raw tension within him.

  ‘The question is, do you really want me?’

  She shook her head that he even had to ask. ‘I do.’ The words sounded solemn in the silent room. ‘Absolutely.’

  His unseeing eyes focused on her as if seeking confirmation.

  Then he stepped forward, walking to the side of the bed. With one quick movement he climbed up and settled himself on his back, palms flat on the bedspread.

  Heat fluttered in her stomach. From his torn leg and scarred cheek, to his thick dark hair and determined chin, he was more desirable than any man had a right to be.

  Her heart squeezed at the vulnerability he strove to hide. At his proud, almost arrogant attitude that was no façade but part of the essential Declan. He was a man of depth and subtlety, of strength and secrets as well as charisma and sex appeal. He was the man who’d torn apart her defences and laid her heart bare.

  It was on the tip of her ton
gue to ask if he was sure, her own doubts rearing up. But she bit back the words. Slowly she paced around the bed, feeling the swish of gossamer-fine fabric against her aroused body.

  ‘Tell me what you’re wearing.’ His voice rippled across her skin.

  Declan folded his hands behind his head. The movement accentuated the broad muscles of his shoulders and arms. Her breath caught at the sight of all that leashed power waiting for her.

  ‘A robe.’

  ‘Silk.’

  ‘How can you tell?’ She hesitated, suddenly uncertain. He stared directly at her, almost as if he saw her.

  He shrugged and her mouth dried. She imagined those strong shoulders cradling her. ‘It sounds like silk, like a whisper against your skin when you walk.’

  She shook her head. She couldn’t hear what he did, her senses hampered by the roar of blood in her ears.

  ‘You look beautiful.’

  Chloe smiled even as her breath snared. ‘You don’t know how I look.’ She’d never been glamorous despite her unusual colouring. She doubted he’d give her a second glance if he could see.

  ‘I know your face, remember?’ His chest expanded mightily on a satisfied smile. ‘You let me touch you. I remember your soft skin; your neat, straight nose and the bow of your lips. They’re full, aren’t they, Chloe—pouting and ready to be kissed?’

  Sparks of heat flared in a twisting coil as his words curled around her. Her lips parted, tingling, as if waiting for the caress of his mouth.

  ‘You’d look more beautiful without the wrap,’ he murmured. ‘Take it off.’

  The sheer wanton thrill of his words stifled thought. He seduced her just with that rich growl that scraped like cut velvet across aroused flesh.

  ‘Now, Chloe. I want you naked.’

  Her fingers were unsteady as she fumbled with the knot at her waist. Finally it loosened. She shrugged and the robe slithered to the floor.

  Declan’s smile widened. ‘Excellent. Now come to me.’

  Chloe was already climbing onto the bed, her heart hammering high in her throat. ‘Stop giving orders, Declan. You’re not my boss now.’

  She knelt over him, hands flat on the black and gold silk cover she’d smoothed across the vast bed only this morning. Bending, she pressed a kiss to his knee, feeling the tickle of coarse hair. Another kiss, a few centimetres higher, and his skin twitched and tightened.