The solid wall of muscle beneath her palms did crazy things with her mind. The incredible heat radiating from his body through his T-shirt singed her from head to toe and, somehow, amid touching his hardened pecs, she gained a handful of courage.
“Unless what, Leif?”
Lorraine felt his arm curl around the small of her back, pulling her against him. Slow at first, as if testing her, making certain he was allowed to touch her in this manner. But once he realized she wanted his embrace, his forearm became more like a vice grip.
Peering deep into her soul, he whispered, “Most people forget things unless they’ve experienced something memorable at the time.”
Her reply was more like a hum. No words, no nodding of the head. Just a hum of agreement.
“You might forget you were here with me, unless we did something memorable…”
Her heart fluttered. Her emotions threatened to bubble over. But she remained as calm as she could, holding fast to the sound plate of male muscle in her hands. “I think you’re right. I think I will forget this whole vacation…this entire day…this…this…”
She wanted to say “this moment” but she closed her eyes and held her breath instead.
****
Seeing her anxiety plainly written across her face, I brought a reassuring hand to her jaw before my lips scarcely touched hers. After dawdling on tenderness, I finally opened my mouth and enveloped hers, brushing my tongue ever so gently across her savory lips. I made sure it was a long, gradual kiss; a sweet compromise of patience and passion, quite different from the raging course of beastly need that rapaciously clawed its way into being below my waist.
Leif pulled away, unsure of what he just felt, what he saw behind closed eyes. He couldn’t explain it. At the moment he pressed his lips to Lorraine’s, an image of her flashed before him. She looked different. Her hair and clothing established a different time period, but she looked the same. Ageless.
“What’s wrong?”
He stepped back, separating himself from her touch, but unable to sever their stare. If he read her right, she seemed to have the same bewildered look on her face. “Did you…” He stopped, unable to put what he felt into words.
Lorraine’s voice trembled. “Did I what?”
He took another step backward and ran his hand over his jaw. “Did you see what I saw? Did you feel..? Like…” Damn, why can’t I explain it?
Lorraine brought her hands up to her mouth, her fingertips brushing over her lips as if she felt the remnant caress of his tongue across them. Confusion and pain surfaced in her eyes, and she turned around on her heels, hiding her tears.
Instantly, his heart ached. He had hurt her feelings by pulling out of their first kiss and questioning her. What was he thinking?
He couldn’t help himself. There was a familiarity in the way she smelled, the way she tasted, the way she melted against him. Every part of that kiss was as closely acquainted to him as the sensation of his own hands rubbing against his skin. It was like kissing this woman for the thousandth time and for the first. How was that possible?
“I’m sorry,” he heard Lorraine whimper. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
Leif circled her, trying to separate his emotions from hers. He set the camera down and grasped her shoulders, forcing her attention away from the sea. “You didn’t push me into anything. I kissed you on my own accord.”
Though his confession was supposed to make her feel better, he realized it made things worse. If he chose to kiss her, then why would he pull away? To a woman, there’s only one reason a man would separate himself from a kiss: it was unbearable.
“Okay, that came out wrong.”
“You don’t have to explain,” she shrugged, averting from him.
“Aye, I do,” he affirmed, pulling her back. “Your kiss was amazing. I’ve never felt anything like it.” His mind grappled for stable ground, desperate for sensible words. A nervous laugh escaped him. “Fuck me running, I have no idea how to describe what I felt when I kissed you. All I know is that I saw you, a different version of you. And as I gazed upon your face, I felt like I was out of my body—watching me kiss you. Does that make sense?”
Lorraine gawked at him for longer than he cared to admit and the only thing that registered on her face was absolute befuddlement. What he tried to explain could only be described as ridiculous. Phenomena such as this were saved for far-fetched, paranormal movies. Not real life.
He dropped his hands and sighed. “Forgive me.” After too many uncomfortable seconds passed by, he cut the tension by bending over and retrieving her camera. “Here.”
Slow and easy, she took the camera. “Forgive you for what?”
He rolled his eyes. “For my crude language, for one. For ruining this moment.”
“You didn’t ruin it.”
“I’ve succeeded in making our first kiss something you’ll never forget. Is that how I wanted you to remember it? Hardly.”
Chapter Twelve
As Leif went to stand at the cliff edge, Lorraine’s stomach climbed in her throat. She wanted to admit she felt the same thing he did when they had kissed. To come clean and say she’d seen the same—him, only different as well. That they both experienced some sort of bizarre déjà vu.
It was obvious it troubled him. Being an archeologist, she’d bet he heard his fair share of curses and spells for unearthing sacred graves, but never thought twice about it. He was a grounded man, sensible. Intelligent. It wasn’t his style to believe in such madness.
Determined to help salvage his sanity, as well as the rest of the evening, she picked up his cantle bag and walked over to where he stood. “I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to call it even. You and I have had some really strange things happen since we met, and we’ve spoken even stranger things to each other. Maybe it’s best we forget all that and start over.” She handed the pack to him. “Truce?”
His mouth turned under in thought as he accepted the bag. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” She fed her head through the camera strap and crossed her arms. “So, are you gonna show me what the cantle bag is for or do I have to guess?”
Leif glanced at his watch and then to the horizon. “We’ve got a couple hours yet, but we can get ready.”
“Get ready for what?”
She suspected he was still troubled by the kiss, but nonetheless, his smile returned. “You’ll see.”
Leif set the pack on the ground and unzipped it. The first item he removed was a blanket. Then a lighter. And then a candle. He spread the blanket on the ground at the edge of the cliff and lit the candle.
Still unsure of his motives, she watched him retrieve the pack and hold it closed as he neared her.
“Have a seat,” he gestured.
She did as he bid her, wondering what in the world he was preparing for. To her delight, he sat beside her, crossed-legged, but kept the pack concealed behind him.
“Here, hold this,” he said, handing her a Ziploc bag of tan granules.
“Brown sugar?”
He smiled and continued on with his task without giving her any hint as to what he was doing. One by one, he pulled out items and set them on the blanket before them: a small bottle of Jameson whiskey, a bottle of Bailey’s Irish liqueur, a thermos of unknown liquid, two collapsible cups with lids and, of course, the inexplicable can of whipped cream.
As an expert of mixed drinks, she eyed the ingredients and made her best guess. “Are you making me an Irish coffee?”
“Well, you are in Ireland.” He stopped in the middle of opening the Bailey’s. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those health addicts who doesn’t drink coffee?”
“Are you kidding? I love coffee. Course, the way I drink it, Patrick calls it coffee-flavored creamer.”
“Is that the ex?”
Lorraine shot him a quick glance, but he never missed a beat as he took the bag of brown sugar from her hand and poured it into the lid of one of the cups.
> “Oh God, no,” she corrected. “Patrick’s a good friend of mine. I’ve known him practically all my life. In fact, he’s the one who insisted I come here to get away from Jack.”
“Jack’s the ex.”
Hating to admit it, rolled her eyes when he glanced her way. “Ex-fiancé.”
A glint of pity registered in his face, but he moved on. The constant motions of his hands kept her mesmerized and she was thankful for the distraction. Though it didn’t take much skill to prepare a drink, Leif had a way of making it entertaining, like watching one’s own personal Japanese hibachi chef dice, flip, and cook food over a flaming flat grill. With fanciful, fluid twists and douses, he poured some Bailey’s into the other lid, turned the cup upside down, and dipped its brim into the liqueur. After that, he sat the cup into the other lid filled with brown sugar and rotated it. Rimming with all kinds of sweet goodness, he presented the sugar-coated cup before her and smiled. “Here’s one.”
“I’ve never seen an Irish coffee made this way.”
“Well, feel free to steal my recipe when you get back home, but it’s not authentic. It’s just the way I prefer to make it.”
As she held her cup, he did the same with his, and handed it to her. “So, if Patrick’s such a great friend, why didn’t he come with you…if you don’t mind me asking?”
Lorraine couldn’t say she minded. She just didn’t care for the subject of her ex and would have rather side-stepped this mine. “He was going to, but I turned down his offer.”
Leif’s brow lifted high above his eyes as he divided the thermos of coffee between the two cups. “Why is that?”
“Because he doesn’t need to be here with me while he has a girlfriend at home.”
“I see.”
For a split second, Lorraine thought the interrogation might be over. He added the shots of Jameson to the coffee and another question popped out of his mouth.
“Hypothetically, if Patrick didn’t have a girlfriend, would you have wanted him to come with you?”
She knew where this was going. Exhaustively, she exhaled. “Leif, I don’t have a boyfriend and I don’t wish Patrick to be a boyfriend either. He’s practically like a brother to me—an older protective brother.”
He held the Bailey’s up as if he didn’t hear her. “I’m assuming you want this.”
Lorraine noticed how smoothly he bypassed her reference of Patrick. “Yes, please.”
He neglected his cup and gave her a generous measure. “And now, for the moment I think you’ve been waiting for…” He picked up the can of whipped cream and gave it a good shake.
“How in the world do you know what I like in my coffee?”
“I don’t know. I just brought a bunch of stuff with me.”
“You know as well as I that a real Irish coffee doesn’t include Bailey’s or foaming whipped cream from a can, for that matter, and yet you brought them both.”
“Women tend to like things a little sweeter. That’s all I got.” As he readied it above their cups, he gave her an inquisitive look.
“What now?”
He shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Hey now, I answered all your questions…don’t think you’re going to get off so easy on this one.”
A devious flare lit up his eyes. “I was just wondering if you take from an aerosol can as well as you did from my hand.”
Heat flamed her cheeks and awakened the temptress within her. “Only you can be the judge of that.”
Leif closed his eyes and dragged in a long breath, signs that he was already raging a war between his unruly thoughts and one rising opponent. He leaned back on one hand, making room for his aggressor.
Jack never reacted this way with her. He was always too busy with his work to hear the subtle innuendoes she’d thrown his way. As much as he often disregarded her, she probably could have said something as blunt as my mouth craves your cock, and he wouldn’t have even blinked.
Leif had no trouble picking up on them.
Gazing at the way he tapped the can on his knee, she licked her lips. “Oh, come on, Leif. You know you want to. Besides, I’m thinking this may be the right place you were talking about. There’s no one here to bother us and quite frankly, if you don’t, I will.” She leaned forward, whispering, “I could make a meal on whipped cream.”
“Bottom’s up then,” he crooned huskily. He held the nozzle above her open mouth and slowly dispensed a huge dollop of cream on her tongue, watching the air-infused foam curl in her mouth. His naughty playful side got the better of him and he continued to hold it down until it filled her mouth.
Trying to hold it all in, she clamped her mouth shut, but was helpless to retaliate as she was stuck holding both cups of hot coffee. She mumbled his name, swallowing as she laughed, only to have some of it seep from the corner of her lips and drip down her chin.
“Hold on,” he said before she could swipe it away with her tongue. “I got this.”
Careful of the cups, he reached in and caught the cream with his finger. Lorraine bit her lip, the feel of his touch heightening every nerve in her body. What really sent her senses zinging was watching him insert his finger into his mouth and suck it off.
As he hummed with satisfaction, she wanted to hum right along with him. She wanted to taste his ever-perfect lips again and suck the delectable flavor of cream from his tongue.
“So, what’s the verdict?” she asked, handing him his cup.
His fingertips brushed against hers in the transfer and his eyes remained glued to her mouth. “I think it’s a toss up, really.”
“Let me guess. Speculating is out of the question. You have to do more research before you decide.”
“You learn quickly,” he said, raising his glass.
“Then, here’s to ‘thorough research.’ May we never forget the importance of persistence and due diligence.”
“Good one,” he exclaimed, clinking his plastic cup against hers.
Together, they took their first sip, never breaking eye contact. Something held them fixed. Maybe it was the expectation of another kiss hovering in the atmosphere, or the obvious attraction between them. Either way, Lorraine enjoyed every moment she sat there, lost in his eyes.
As the hours ticked by, their conversations altered from family and hobbies to embarrassing moments and miffs. Before long, she was three drinks in when the sun started to make its descent into the watery horizon.
“It’s nearly time,” he announced, taking her empty cup and setting it aside. “Trust me, you don’t want to miss this.”
As she followed the direction of his nod, she realized he was talking of the sunset about to take place. In less than a few minutes, the brilliant, fiery sphere, which dangled above a rippling blanket of golden sea, would soon lay its heavenly body to rest. Already, the sky had turned cordial and pillowed the sun with darkened shades of amber and bronze clouds.
Lorraine was awestruck as she sat there, watching the sun drop into the Atlantic. She’d seen many captivating sunsets in her time, but none equaled this one. Consumed by its beauty, she didn’t even hear Leif’s voice. It wasn’t until he blocked her line of sight with her camera, hanging from her neck, that he broke her trance.
“I’m thinking you’ll want to capture this.”
“Oh, right,” she said, clumsily taking hold of the device. “Thanks.” As she focused in on the dimming sun, reflecting on the ocean, she could feel Leif’s presence behind her. He wasn’t touching her in any way, but she knew he was close. Close enough that if she leaned slightly backward, she’d be nestled against his chest.
Oh, what she wouldn’t give to feel his strong embrace again. The one he’d given her hours ago in a kiss had been too short-lived. It took everything she had to keep from easing back, the notion of his hard, muscular body, only inches away, harassing her every thought.
Swallowing back the urge, she tried to make small talk, keeping her eyes on the setting sun. “It’s beautiful, Leif. I’m so glad you brough
t me here.”
“Mm-hm…”
Lorraine’s breath caught. Leif was no longer inches behind her, but close enough that she felt his breath on her neck. She didn’t dare turn around, for if she moved at all, her cheek would bump into his nose.
She heard him draw in a long breath, smelling her, and then she felt the expulsion of air from his lungs as if he couldn’t restrain himself. His hand came around and cupped her jaw, turning her face so he could look in her eyes. The warmth of his tender touch engulfed her body and soul, flames of heat licking her core. It was incredible what this man could do to her. With barely a caress, he aroused her to the point of thrumming. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears and feel its pulse coursing through her veins.
In his eyes, she recognized a storm brewing, a ‘should I do this or not?’ kind of disturbance. Though her mind screamed ‘yes!’, she held still. If she initiated the kiss and he pulled back, the blow of rejection would kill her.
She’d already felt that sucker punch when she walked in on Jack, and her heart couldn’t handle another. Not this soon. Not with this man.
Leif parted his lips slightly, and glanced at hers. “I like you here with me.”
Lorraine wanted to agree, but she couldn’t speak.
“Everything is better with you here.”
****
I barely got a laugh out before Dægan lifted another piece of fruit to my lips.
“I like you here with me,” he said with great contentment, sucking his finger that had just come from her mouth. “Everything is better with you here.”
****
Lorraine drew in a ragged breath.
She’d somehow flitted away into another flashback at the sound of Leif’s familiar words, with Leif—no…again with Dægan—sitting across from her, bare-chested, feeding her. As her vision faded, she no longer gawked at her Viking warrior, but at Leif.
Thankfully, Leif was none the wiser of her short disappearing act.
The Emerald Isle Trilogy Boxed Set Page 76
