Secret Nights at Nine Oaks

by Amy J. Fetzer

  Cain winked at her. “Yes, we best.”

  She grinned. “Race yah,” she said and she shot toward the house.

  Cain blinked, staring after her, then chased her down. He caught her in the mudroom, snagging her around the waist, and went crazy kissing her.

  “Here? Oh fun,” she said, working off her muddy boots.

  “Hell no, but I have to touch you. Everywhere.”

  Excitement coursed through her as Cain toed off his boots, then grasped her hand, pulling her into the house. He paused in the back hall, looking around.

  “You’re sparing my reputation, how sweet.”

  He glanced. “I should send them all home.”

  “Do.” She slid her hand provocatively over his flat stomach, her fingertips grazing his erection. “I plan to be vocal.”

  “Oh God,” Cain groaned and swept her up in his arms, bolting toward the staircase and taking the steps two at a time.

  Phoebe laughed at his enthusiasm and he silenced her with a kiss at the top of the stairs, then let her legs go. She stood on her toes, her body pressed against his, his back to the wall. His hands were busy rediscovering her contours, enfolding her breasts to thumb her nipples in deep circles through her wet shirt. She whimpered and leaned into his touch, yanking his shirt from his trousers, and driving her hands up his bare chest. He made a growling sound of such dark hunger, Phoebe felt empowered.

  Then the sound of voices floated up from downstairs.

  “Oh no, spies,” he whispered, then wiggled his brows.

  Phoebe was captivated by the freedom in his smile, and when he pulled her toward the west wing and the wide double doors of the master suite, she didn’t hesitate. The antiques, and the opulent decor blurred around her. All she saw was Cain. How, in his own way, he cared deeply for her. He’d limited himself for five years, but now, he wasn’t. Then outside the doors, he stopped and looked at her intently.

  “Are you sure? Nothing will be the same.”

  She gazed up at him, seeing how greedy he was for her and knew it mirrored her own passion. If nothing came of this beyond one night, she told herself, it was a precious moment in time she would cherish and accept.

  “I’m sure, Cain. Are you?”

  “I don’t think there is a question in my mind that I couldn’t reason away, but God help me, I want you so badly.” At the last word, his mouth came down on hers and he backed up and nudged the door open, then maneuvered her inside.

  He kicked the door closed behind them, drawing back to look her in the eye. Something had changed. Phoebe felt him quake, the restrained power in his tall body, and it thrilled her. She touched the side of his face, her feelings and her desire for him overwhelming her. He was so handsome, and so different right now. His damp hair was wildly mussed, far from the well-manicured way he’d looked when she’d first seen him. His clothing was wet and muddy, and he appeared more rugged than elegant, more real than the fearsome beast she’d met two weeks ago.

  “I like you like this,” she said, gripping his belt and tugging him near. “Messy, relaxed.”

  “I’m far from relaxed.”

  “Oh?” She opened the buckle.

  “I feel like I’m about to crack in half.” He smoothed his hands over her hair and cradled her face. “I’m almost afraid to let go.”

  Something tightened around her heart, clamping down hard and squeezing her breathless.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  But you will, she thought. You won’t leave Nine Oaks and that hurts me. Hurts us.

  Yet she said nothing, leaning into his body, and he snatched her up, kissing her madly, the force of it bending her back over his arm.

  “You taste so good,” he murmured. “I can’t wait. I can’t.”

  His gaze traveled over her as she stood stretched out to him, nearly limp under his touch, and his hand moved up to her waist, savoring the feel of her cool damp skin before he slipped under her shirt and filled his palm with her breast. She made a sweet sound and he pushed the wet shirt and bra upward, baring her to the heat of his mouth. Warm lips met her cool flesh and she shrieked at the contact, then moaned as he laved, his lips tugging at her nipple, sending tight clawing desire spiraling outward.

  He kept tasting and the feelings magnified and blossomed.

  She let him have what he wanted, loving the fierceness of his touch, the gentleness of his embrace. She crossed her arms, pulling her shirt off and dropping it to the floor. The bra followed. She straightened and worked her slacks off.

  Cain was treated to the erotic sight of peeling fabric and flawless flesh. It left him incapable of moving, his gaze ripping over her. She wore only a black thong. She moved closer, unfastening his shirt buttons, but Cain couldn’t be bothered and tore off his shirt, popping buttons in his eagerness to feel her skin next to his.

  Phoebe was almost stunned by the sight of his body. The muscles molded his frame like sculptured ropes of power, flexing as he tossed aside the shirt.

  “What?” he said when she stared.

  “You don’t sit behind a desk all the time.”

  “I have a lot of time on my hands.”

  Now he was hers. He was her prisoner, and she explored him, her hands gliding delicately over his skin. The simple act tightened his grip on her waist. Then she slicked her tongue across his nipple and he trembled for her.

  She pulled his belt free, swinging it once before she dropped it, then sent his zipper down. His hands curled into fists, knuckles popping, and she could taste the tension in him, see it in the flex of his jaw. He was hard perfection and this would be fast and heated, she knew. There was nothing stopping their first taste of each other and she planned on it going on for a while.

  Forever, if she had a choice. The thought made her still for a second.

  “Phoebe.”

  “There are no rules, Cain. Not with us.”

  Then her hand dipped inside his trousers, and she enfolded him. He slammed his eyes shut, throwing his head back with a deep growl of male pleasure. His throat worked, his arousal flexed in her hand.

  She stroked him, pushing his trousers down and he looked at her, pulling her hand free.

  “I won’t make it,” he said honestly and was surprised he had any control left.

  He kissed her, his hands sweeping her ripe body, teasing her with a dip and stroke, then slipping inside her panties and toying with her center. Her breathing increased, and Cain wanted more of her, needed her so desperately and for a moment, he wondered how he’d survived all these years without her.

  Then he gripped the delicate thong, and tugged. It popped and he tossed it aside.

  “Oh, you enjoyed that.”

  “Every man’s fantasy? You betcha.”

  He moved forward till her back was braced on the bedpost, the giant Rice bed looming beyond, tempting them with wild play. But Cain wanted to have his fantasy with Phoebe, to play out the dreams that had been torturing him since she walked through the door again. His hands on her waist slid upward, coasting under her arms and pushing them high. Then he wrapped her hands around the carved post. “Hold on.”

  “I’ll need to?”

  “Yeah.” His look was savagely erotic with promise. “Don’t let go.”

  She smiled, and he bent and took her nipple deep into the hot suck of his mouth. She inhaled and moaned, arching and with his knee, he spread her thighs, his fingers sliding warmly and smoothly, teasing her with light pressure. She was vocal, telling him how good that felt, wanting more, deeper, longer strokes, and her hips thrust into his touch. But he wouldn’t give her what she wanted, not enough to satisfy her, and she was panting, begging him.

  It was exactly what he wanted. She was a strong woman, candid and outspoken, and Cain had little power. Here he did.

  He discovered her, what made her squirm, what brought her closer to the edge of a climax. His mouth found the sweet under-curve of her breast, the ticklish spot on her ribs, and he heard her gasp when he dragge
d his tongue down the line of muscle to her navel.

  He swirled and licked, and her legs softened. She gripped the post. “Cain. Oh Cain.”

  He ran his hand over her behind, pausing to dip into her and stroke her liquid center, then he curled his long fingers around her knee, and lifted it to his shoulder.

  “Oh my sweet heaven,” she gasped.

  He left nothing to chance, no inch of her delectable skin untouched. His broad hands splayed her hips, thumbs teasing her center. He looked up, met her stormy gaze, then peeled her open.

  He tasted her.

  She slammed her eyes shut, her breath tumbling as he pleasured her. Years alone had not dimmed his expertise, but made him precise and intense. In seconds, she was close, and he possessed the bead of her sex in every way. He brought her near and receded, chuckling when she demanded, when she told him this was divine and he’d get his.

  “You first,” he growled when she was shivering, till her breathing was fast and hot. Till her body glistened with sweat.

  Then he plunged two fingers inside and pushed her over the edge of rapture.

  She climaxed beautifully, a ribbon of femininity bending, her body flexing and pawing beneath his touch.

  “Cain. Cain!”

  He didn’t answer, silent in his assault, loving how she spoke of her feelings, of what he did to her body, her heart. And the cries, oh yes, the cries were like music to his ears.

  She’d yet to settle past the pulse of her climax, was still in the throes of it when Cain stood, sweeping an arm around her and pulling her with him onto the bed. He shucked his trousers, his erection fiercely hard, and she curled toward him, her hand sliding over his body, pulling him onto her.

  “Cain. Now.”

  He produced a condom and she applied it deftly, quickly, watching his eyes flare, feeling him elongate for her. Her throat went tight again, and she kissed him.

  “Now,” she said. “Please.”

  “Yes, now.” He plunged deeply, filling her in one smooth stroke.

  She felt his trembling all the way to her spine.

  He slammed his eyes shut, the pulse of her body trapping him more than he could bear.

  When he opened his eyes she was staring at him, then pressed her forehead to his, rasping her thumb over his lips as she said, “I feel like I’ve waited an eternity for this.”

  Shock and pleasure riddled him. “Me, too.”

  The need to move took them, stole her breath as she rose and came back to him.

  Gone was the tortured emotion he hid. With each plunge came a new man, the one she knew before life was cruel to his heart. He braced a hand on the headboard and held her gaze as he left her and pushed home. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and pulled him deeper, wanting him harder, faster, but he was intent on her pleasure, on satisfying her when she knew he was ready to explode.

  The wet slide of him pulsed with savage desire. Their pace quickened. The bed shook, their climax rushing ahead of them.

  Cain wanted to slow down but it was impossible. He thirsted, his need to claim her, if only this way, was rooted in his being. Not in sex.

  His hips pistoned, her body a slick glove pulling pleasure from him. She splayed her hands on his chest, taunting him with words, with her hands.

  She hid nothing from him, open and bare, and for a moment, they watched him disappear into her. He met her gaze, loving that she was not timid, that she was herself in all aspects. Her boldness was part of her, her need to find freedom in everything, and Cain clutched her close to his heart, hoping to know it, share it. Even when he knew he would not.

  Their gazes locked, the searing heat destroying his reservations about himself, her, his life.

  “This will never be enough,” he said. “Never.”

  “I know. I know.”

  And he lowered onto her, cupping her buttocks and rolling to his back with her locked to him.

  She rose up, smiling, knowing she had the power and he gave it to her.

  On a mound of pillows, Cain enjoyed the splendor of her, leaning up to capture her nipple. Her hips shot forward, her body sliding slickly onto his. She gripped his shoulders, holding his gaze, her quick breaths, her tender pleas to join her were enough to destroy him. He was there, sheer will keeping the explosion back and he dribbled his hands down her body and touched the bead of her sex with infinite care. She slammed down onto him and found rapture.

  The eruption tore through them with bone-racking power. The pound of bodies tore passion from its cage and Cain gripped her, grinding her to him and she answered the push, equal in her pleasure, her need, her demand.

  He cried out her name.

  She cupped his face, and thrust, experiencing his pleasure, watched it darken his eyes, turn them liquid wild, releasing all he kept banked from the world.

  Feminine muscles tightened, and his shattering pulse made him buck. She held on, suspended and fused with him, and they clutched for long breathless moments, riding the wave of their pleasure.

  Phoebe collapsed on him, breathing hard, and Cain held her, silent, his chest aching with emotions he didn’t want to examine. He kissed her hair, her cheek, and when she lifted her head to look at him, there was a tear in her eye.

  “Phoebe?”

  “I knew it would be like this, you know.”

  He stared for a moment, thinking of lies he might tell, ways to keep his heart out of this, but right now, he couldn’t. “Yeah, I think, so did I.”

  She laid her head down and sighed, and Cain felt at once free and chained tighter to his past.

  Nine

  Cain stood on the balcony outside the master suite, staring at the moon glistening on the river. The view was spectacular, despite the shifting storm clouds threatening to unleash again. Yet a gale raged inside him and he glanced back at the bed.

  The air-conditioning stirred the drapes, revealing the tiny beauty sprawled in his bed. The last few hours bloomed in his mind with the power to leave him hungry for more of her.

  What have I done?

  Cain didn’t regret the last hours; the passion between them was unlike anything he’d experienced before with any woman.

  But then, he knew it would be.

  It was the reason he’d avoided her since that first kiss under the stairs. She consumed him, and he felt almost obsessed with having her again. Always. He could spend a lifetime with her, and he’d never have enough of her sweet, vibrant energy.

  But morning would bring reality, he thought, and when she stirred on the sheets, he was reluctant to speak to her.

  To end it.

  He forced himself to move toward her, tugging the sash of his robe. She rolled to her back, her bare body seductively draped in sheets.

  “I’m hungry. Feed me.”

  He chuckled to himself and settled on the edge of the bed. She sat up and scooted close, her slender arms sliding around his neck. She kissed him, the heat gathering and stealing Cain’s will. With a groan, he deepened the kiss and drew her across his lap, running his hand upward from her thigh till he cupped her bare breast. He rolled her nipple under his thumb, feeling it peak deliciously for him.

  She arched into his touch, gasping for air. “I’m really hungry.”

  “So am I.”

  He pushed her to her back, his warm mouth laving over her breast, drawing on her nipple. She curled toward him, as if all her nerves were locked between his lips.

  “Cain, Cain.” Frantically, she searched the bedsheets for a condom packet.

  His hand slipped between her thighs, fingers sliding and teasing. “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.” She was spread wide and uninhibited, letting him see every curve, feel every sensation he created in her.

  “Now,” was all she said, tearing at his sash. She enfolded him, sheathing him as he moved between her thighs.

  “Phoebe.” He hadn’t meant for it to go this far.

  He thrust, burying himself in her, and she arched passionately, then jerked back t
ill he left her completely. He plunged again. And again.

  And she coaxed him faster, her hands taunting his restraint, and braced above her, Cain withdrew and answered the rushing passion.

  They were savage, flesh meeting flesh and melting into one stream of heat and desire. He was afraid he’d hurt her yet she answered him, wild and erotic. The clash pushed them across the bed till she was gripping the headboard and begging him to let go. He gripped her hips bringing her to him, a passionate command quickly taking them over the edge of passion and into a spine-tingling climax.

  His gaze never left hers. Her eyes expressed her desire, and something more. Something he’d longed to see in a woman—in Phoebe.

  It slayed him.

  Because even as they collapsed onto the bed, Cain knew he couldn’t have her. Not the way he wanted. Completely. Phoebe would want the same from him, and he could not give it.

  Ever.

  Sheltering the feelings in his heart was far better than seeing loathing in her eyes.

  Cain stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at her as he buttoned his shirt. She’d slept all night without waking. Probably for the first time since Kreeg had ruined her life. While it pleased him, Cain knew they’d made a mistake.

  He’d made the mistake.

  He should have shown more willpower, he should have kept his distance. But with her, he had no will and he’d only himself to blame.

  But Phoebe would be hurt. He hated himself for it already, yet she’d expect him to leave Nine Oaks and return to the life he had before Lily died.

  He wouldn’t. In that, nothing had changed.

  His chest tightened, a knot locking around his heart. When she rolled to her side and smiled at him, Cain savored it for a moment, memorizing the look of pure contentment on her face.

  “Good morning.” She rose to her knees, naked and rosy and the temptation to have her again nearly stole his breath. He would never have enough of her and without asking, he knew she’d want more than he could give.

  “You’re dressed already?”

  “I have work to do.”

  “Could I interest you in taking another day off?” On her knees, she reached, her fingertips dipping beneath his belt and tugging him closer.