by Jan Springer
Chance frowned and felt the muscles tighten around his mouth. Something else he’d have to get used to was the way his muscles felt when he smiled, frowned or even laughed, but the doctors said he’d get used to it. It just took time. Time wasn’t what he had with Emily’s marriage swooping down on him.
Reaching into his shirt pocket, he drew out the lip balm and smeared some onto his lips. He hadn’t been out here for more than a couple of hours and his lips were already feeling dry. He found himself laughing at that discovery. Shit, at least this time he’d come prepared.
His soft laugh was cut short when he caught the glint of his Saint Christopher medallion in the window. Immediately he reached up behind his neck to unlatch the necklace. He’d have to hide it so she wouldn’t find it. Slipping it into his back pocket, he moved away from the window and stretched out on the soft mattress. The truth about his real identity would remain a secret to spare Emily a lot of hurt. He tried to convince himself if was better this way, but why did it feel as if his heart were being crushed to smithereens?
Chapter Three
Emily’s eyes slowly opened and she noticed him standing there right beside her bed. It was the stranger named Chance Donovan and she realized she wasn’t the least bit afraid of his being in her bedroom. She knew she’d locked her door before going to sleep and numbly realized she didn’t care in the least he’d managed to gain entrance to her room while she slept. The only thing she cared about was his nakedness and how hot she felt as she gazed at him.
His long, thick erection made her whimper as he drew closer. He held his cock in one hand and with his other hand he leisurely stroked his swollen length. His blue eyes were half closed, his dark lashes lowering, heavy with lust.
Need screamed through her. A need so sharp and so raw, she cried out at its intensity. She wanted Chance Donovan laying on top o her. Wanted him thrusting into her. Pistoning into her hard and fast, heating her blood and releasing the sexual tension sizzling between them.
Oh God! She needed him between her thighs. She could feel the weight of his body move the mattress as he sat down on her bed. Could feel his body heat splash against her naked flesh as he lifted the covers and slid in beside her.
She remained lying on her back, stunned at how wonderful she felt having him here beside her.
“I wanted to make love to you the instant I laid my eyes on you, Emily.”
His hoarse whisper sounded rough in the dark, but his words melted over her senses like honey, bringing all her nerve endings sizzling to awareness mode.
“Do you want me, baby?” he asked her. Her breath halted in her throat as he stretched beside her, turning so he was facing her. His eyes held hers captive as he awaited an answer. Such dark, lusty eyes, she found herself thinking. So dark she could drown in them.
“Oh yes, I want you inside me, Chance. So bad.”
He reached out and caressed her cheek, his touch burning her with desire. His gaze drew to her mouth and she parted her lips in anticipation. Her blood pounded heat as he dipped his head toward her. The instant his warm moist lips touched hers, longing rocked through her. It was shocking, powerful and searing.
As he kissed her, his gentle fingers stroked the length of her throat. Ripples of excitement fanned through her as his kiss deepened. His fingers brushed over her collarbone, seared along the side of her breast and skimmed leisurely over her belly. She sucked in a gasp as she felt his shaft pressing against her left thigh. Arched against his hand as he slipped it between her throbbing thighs.
A finger moved slowly and surely over her clitoris. The small bundle of nerves burst with pleasure so fast and so hard, Emily cried out her excitement.
“Shh, sweet baby. I’ll take care of you down here,” he whispered against her mouth. And then he was kissing her chin, the length of her neck and across her collarbone.
The finger smoothed back and forth over her clit and her thighs shivered from the exotic tension. When his hot mouth latched over her nipple, she wanted to reach down and run her fingers through his hair, only to discover he’d bound her wrists to the bed while she’d slept.
Again, she felt no fear. Only a consuming desire for her stranger to be intimate with her. A need for him to pleasure her and for him to use her body for his own desires. As he continued to massage her and suck her nipple with erotic intensity, she found her body tightening, the tension building.
Two of his fingers dipped inside her pussy, making her arch her hips and moan at the sensual invasion.
“That’s it, sweet baby. Let yourself go with the pleasure.”
He moved his fingers slowly inside her, stretching her vagina, stroking into her until she heard herself breathing harshly. He withdrew suddenly and thrust into her again, bringing her closer to the pleasure she yearned.
“I can feel your release coming, baby,” he whispered.
She could hear the tightness in his voice. The thick tension of arousal pressing against her thigh. Then he was removing his fingers and coming over her, just the way she wanted him to.
She ached bad for him. Wanted to scream her need to him. Her breasts heaved against his chest as he pressed down on her, his warm breath cascading against her cheeks. His lips were set tight with want, his eyes heavy with lust.
Her thighs were trembling with need, her vaginal muscles clenching in anticipation of his entry, the fire of need racing through her in torturous bursts. As he entered her, she inhaled sharply, feeling the stretch. He felt beautiful and intoxicating. Hot. His swollen erection spearing into her.
“You want this, baby?” he teased, and entered deeper.
She yanked against her restraints, craving to pull him into her.
“Yes,” she hissed.
And then he slid into her, deep and strong, and she found herself thinking he felt so right inside her. Found herself realizing she hadn’t had a man make love to her since Steve. Yet Chance felt so perfect, just as Steve had.
He began pistoning into her. At first slow and gentle as if giving her time to accommodate his thickness and length and then faster, harder, rougher. With every thrust he pulled her deeper into her needs. Drew her deeper into her wants and desires.
“What do you want from me, sweet baby?” he murmured against her ear.
“I want you to fuck me, Chance,” she cried out, feeling the desperation begin to overwhelm her senses. Feeling the sexual tension inside her begin to spiral out of control.
And then she was exploding. Her body releasing into a pleasure ball, her pussy spasming around his hard length as she gave in to the chasm of beauty. Surrendered to the sharpest, most erotic orgasm she’d ever had.
Gray slabs of daylight crept into Emily’s bedroom as she opened her eyes on a soft moan. She felt tight, tense, aroused, her breaths hurried with sharp little gasps, escaping between her parted lips.
Oh man, she’d been masturbating in her sleep, she realized as she discovered her hand trapped between her damp thighs and her hard nipple beneath the palm of her other hand as it cupped her right breast.
Now that was what she called an orgasm, she thought as she began touching her sensitized clit, realizing that it felt almost painful to the touch. How hard had she been rubbing herself in her sleep? How long had she been dream fantasizing about the stranger? And had he heard her moans?
Heat flamed into her cheeks at the thought of him being on the other side of the door and listening to her masturbating. Blowing out a tense breath, she stilled her quick breaths and remained quiet for several moments. She heard nothing. He was either still asleep or, maybe if she was lucky, he’d taken off and she wouldn’t see him again. But that second thought didn’t make her feel good at all. She realized she actually looked forward to seeing him again.
She’d been awake off and on the entire night and he’d been on her mind the whole time. Every time she fell asleep she’d dreamed of Chance. God, help her, she didn’t even feel a bit guilty about dreaming about him either.
She should th
ough, shouldn’t she? At least just a little. Sure, her husband was dead, but shouldn’t she feel guilty like she did when she was with Skip?
Tossing those thoughts aside, she focused on her late husband. He’d died only a few short months after they’d married and only a couple of days after they’d started trying for a family. Although she’d been heartbroken at his death, she’d hoped and prayed she might be pregnant from the couple of times they’d had unprotected sex. But her period came and it felt like another death.
She shivered in remembrance and soothed herself by telling herself it was all in the past now and she needed to keep it there or she might become depressed and that’s the last thing she wanted. Distracting her thoughts from Steve, she returned to thinking about the mysterious Chance Donovan. Numerous times when she’d awoken from those hot fantasy dreams, she’d wanted to pick up the phone, call her in-laws again and get answers to all those nagging questions she had about him.
Who was he? Where did he come from? What kind of work did he do? Did he have a wife? A girlfriend? Kids? A dog?
Knowing Daniel and Jo, they’d tease her endlessly if she called them again, especially this early in the morning. They would tell her to give up on getting married if the first sexy stranger who came around her place after she’d gotten engaged interested her so much.
Of course they would be right. She should be concentrating on her fiancé and their upcoming nuptials. At the thought of Skip, apprehension shot through her and she forced herself to whip aside the snug blankets and get out of bed. To her surprise, she felt more alive this morning than she had in years. And her pussy ached wonderfully too. Almost as if she’d truly had a night of hot sex with a well-hung stranger.
After a quick shower, she applied more ointment to the sore burn on her wrist, taped it with clean gauze then dressed in a pink wool sweater and a pair of gray wool slacks and headed into the living room. No sound came from the upstairs room where Chance supposedly slept, and since they hadn’t gone to bed until well after midnight, she opted to think that he was probably still there and fast asleep.
While the coffee brewed, she searched the back of some of the lower cupboards until her hands fell upon the smooth ceramic of the giant mugs she wanted. She couldn’t help but smile at the pleasant memories of the time her husband and she had sat at their cozy intimate table for two, giant mugs clasped in their hands as they planned on how many children they’d have together. They’d joked about who would change the diapers and get up for the midnight feedings. Unfortunately their dreams had never been realized.
Emily frowned as she poured the hot coffee and headed outdoors.
The crisp, salty ocean air almost took her breath away as she stepped onto the deck overlooking the cliffs. The rain from last night had given way to a beautiful breezy morning. The sky was turning a cool blue and bright sunshine shot sparkles of diamonds off the ocean’s white-capped waves. Down below, she saw her boat tied securely to the wharf, as well as the aluminum boat Chance had arrived in. Strange that she hadn’t heard the putter of the boat’s engine last night. Probably because she’d been so busy doing that romance ritual she hadn’t paid attention to anything else.
Sighing, she sipped the hot coffee and turned to gaze at her small home. It was a white clapboard two-story house with red shutters. It contained a kitchen, one full bathroom on the main floor and one half bathroom adjoining the bedroom Chance slept in. The second bedroom was on the main floor where she slept. The living room was heated by steam radiators that kept the entire building nice and toasty during the frigid winter months.
She found her gaze straying to the upstairs window, hoping that Mr. Donovan might be standing up there looking down at her. But she saw nothing. Just the reflection of the blue sky on the pane. Attached to the house was the white octagonal wooden lighthouse with the red cap, which towered forty feet into the air. Every time she looked at the lighthouse, she remembered the first time she saw it.
She’d loved it at first sight. The rocky island with red cliffs and red sandy beaches as well as the lonely little lighthouse with the small house had clutched at her heart, reminding her of herself. Alone, and her life shipwrecked when at the age of thirteen her parents had died in a car crash and her uncle Jeb, her only close living relative, brought her here to stay with him.
At the time she’d been furious at her parents for dying and mad as hell at her uncle for forcing her to leave all her friends in Toronto. Thankfully he had been a patient and gentle man, if not very old and set in his ways. He’d given her only one simple rule. She was in charge of the meals. Before long she’d begged him to give her more chores, and he taught her how to clean the lamps in the lighthouse tower and the surrounding windows so the light would shine brightly through the foggy nights. He showed her how to maneuver his fishing boat Sweet Lies around the dangerous craggy reefs.
By her fourteenth birthday, Emily knew everything there was to know about running the lighthouse. Then when she turned seventeen a bomb dropped on them.
Uncle Jeb’s tiny little lighthouse was no longer needed. A better location had been found a mile down the coast and the new lighthouse would be fully automated and run by the Canadian Coast Guard.
Emily and her uncle were officially out of a job. Thankfully though, they were allowed to remain living in the house, which Uncle Jeb eventually was able to purchase from the income he generated with his fishing boat and by raking seaweed and catching lobsters for a living. Emily also helped to pay off the house by getting a seasonal job on nearby Prince Edward Island. In the town of Cavendish, she helped run a souvenir shop for the many tourists who swept onto the island to savor its beauty, and who came to seek out the birthplace of Lucy Maud Montgomery, the famous author of the book Anne of Green Gables.
While working there, Emily took the opportunity to read Lucy Maud Montgomery’s books and was soon bitten by the writing bug. She trudged off to do a two-year stint at a college in Toronto where she took journalism and broadcasting. During holidays she visited her uncle at every opportunity and learned the tricks to seaweeding. Shortly after graduating, she got a job as a reporter in New York and shortly after that she caught the eye of world-renowned journalist Steve McCullen.
A sudden burst of anger burned through her at the thought of her late husband. She hadn’t been this angry at him since he’d been alive. Why in the world was she mad now? But Emily knew why. Because Chance Donovan made her remember what it felt like to be a woman. Something her fiancé seemed to be unable to do. Abruptly she tossed the remains of her now-cold coffee over the deck railing into the ocean and headed back inside.
* * * * *
Emily peeked into the bedroom and smiled. Chance still lay in the same position as when she’d checked on him over six hours ago, just after seven this morning when she’d come inside and had breakfast. Without him.
Fully clothed, his hands were clasped over his stomach as if in prayer and his chest rose and fell in quiet rhythm.
She couldn’t help but tiptoe into the room and peer down at him. Sleep softened his features. His lips were parted and tilted slightly as if he were smiling up at her. Luscious black lashes hid his startling blue eyes and he wore a day’s worth of whiskers. The shadow gave his face a sexy bad-boy look she found quite appealing.
She noticed he didn’t wear the necklace anymore and her gaze strayed around the room in search for it. She didn’t see it. He’d probably removed it and she was sure she’d get a chance to take a look at it later when he put it back on again.
On the wicker chair beside Chance’s bed she placed a pair of hardly used jeans, a cotton undershirt and a thick denim shirt and a few other items of clothing that had once belonged to her husband. Personal items she’d saved. Clothing she’d touched and smelled and clutched to her heart during the first couple of dark years following Steve’s death. When she had finally accepted he wasn’t coming home, she’d laundered and folded them and stuffed them into a closet. Now they would come in handy f
or Chance.
She returned her attention to the stranger. This time as she looked at the casual way he lay on the bed, something powerful stirred inside her chest and two words echoed in her mind.
Déjà vu.
She shook her head and tried to get rid of the uneasy feeling slithering through her, but it just wouldn’t go away.
* * * * *
The swift autumn breeze was blowing her long hair around her head like a golden wave in the dimness of dusk. She looked so sexy standing there wearing the gray knitted cardigan and jeans. He didn’t know why she looked so hot in everything she wore. She just did.
He couldn’t believe how swollen his cock was getting either when he saw her wave to him while she stood on the wobbly wharf. It was dark and cool and he could see the white mist flowing out her nose and mouth as she breathed. Behind her, the dark silhouetted of the lighthouse was a spooky black fixture jutting out of the cliffs and for a brief instant he felt a spear of fear flow through him for leaving her alone out here. The ocean waves in front of the tugboat swelled and roared as they rolled over each other and crashed against the sandy beach and the rotting wharf.
He’d fix that dock as soon as possible before it fell apart with her on it.
When the tugboat snapped against the protective rubber tires lining the wooden wharf, Emily sprang into action, catching the lines he threw out to her and tying the boat securely to the dock. He couldn’t get off the tugboat fast enough. Couldn’t get her into his arms fast enough.
“Miss me?” she asked, her dark eyes glittering with a mixture of playfulness and love. Before she could utter another word, his mouth melted over hers. He felt her hands slide up his back and clasp over his shoulder blades like they always did when he kissed her. Her palms were hot, her nails sharp as she dug into his muscles. His body hummed and his mind whirled with happiness as she kissed him back.
He’d been away. Left her here alone for one week. He’d expected her to still be pissed off. She had been when he’d left. Of course she had every right to be. After all he had promised no more long assignments.
