Drawing in a deep breath, he caught the back of her neck and sealed his mouth over hers. She moaned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Leaning down, he lowered her with him to the bed.
His body fell over hers and she coiled her legs around him. It had been so long since a woman kissed him like this. Her mouth tasted spectacular, lips still salty with the flavor of popcorn. He braced his weight on his knees.
She arched into him and he felt the press of her soft breasts against his chest. His hand went to the waist of her sweatshirt and lifted the baggy material. Satin skin met his fingertips as he traveled upward. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
He cupped her breast, dragging his thumb over the tight tip. “Alec,” she moaned and he deepened the kiss.
His other hand went to her face, brushing her hair out of the way. Jesus, her lips were soft. Her fingers pulled at his hair and chills raced up his spine. His hand moved to her other breast and she arched into his touch.
“Take this off,” he said against her lips.
She broke the kiss and a moment later she was topless beneath him. The dim flashes of the television played over her ivory skin and he was grateful for the light coming from the kitchen. She was breathtaking. Her breasts lifted as she breathed. The tips were the same burgundy tone as her lips. He swallowed hard.
“Kiss me, Alec. Here.” Her narrow finger traveled slowly to her breasts.
He lowered his head and kissed the soft flesh. She arched and he found her nipple. Her knees tightened on his hips as he pulled one tight bud into his mouth. He nibbled the sensitive point and she cried out.
His palms cupped her curves and he moved to the other nipple. How far could he go? He wanted all of her. He released her breasts and slipped a hand down her loose fitting pants. She was soaked through her panties.
He rubbed her there and she cried out, “Yes, please, Alec.”
He grabbed hold of her sweats and jerked them down. Soft lily-white thighs stretched before him. Her pale blue panties showed a patch of wetness. He could smell her sweet arousal and growled, he plucked the fabric away and replaced it with his mouth.
She nearly came off the bed as he slid his tongue into her. She tasted incredible, clean, spicy. His mouth opened over her as he pierced her slit with sharp jabbing motions of his tongue. His thumb found her clit and he strummed her.
Her voice filled the room as her nails scratched at his head, her fingers pulling at his hair, pressing him against her. He slipped a long finger into her and she moaned. His mouth moved to her little bud, lips closing over the sensitive tip as he plunged his finger deep.
He added another finger. She was small and he stretched her. Her breaths came quickly as he fingered her hard. Her body clamped down on his digits and she cried out, her climax tightening her sheath around his fingers. He plunged them in and out, fucking her hard with his hand.
Her clit pulsed under his lips. “One more, Sheilagh, give me one more.”
He sucked her clit, pressing his fingers quickly in and out as she arched, her spine bowing and pressing her sex into his mouth. He drank her up and licked her clean, until she lay boneless beneath him.
Sitting up he undid his pants, glanced at her, and froze. Her hair was a copper cloud beneath her pale face. She smiled softly at him, lashes lowered in an expression of complete satisfaction. It should have made him feel like a king, but it made him feel like a wretch.
Fuck! None of this was supposed to happen. He stood abruptly and she gasped. “Where are you going?”
He zipped up his pants. “I have to go.”
“What? You’re leaving? Now?”
He wiped his palm over his face and growled. “Shit. Sheilagh, this isn’t why I came here.”
She scowled at him. He had to turn away. She was completely naked aside from her mismatched socks and apparently not fazed by her nudity. “You’re really fucking leaving?”
“I have to!” he practically snarled. “This is insane. We can’t do this.”
Her lips thinned and her chin quivered. He wanted to go to her, but knew if he got too close he’d never leave. She was too reckless, too alluring. Never before had he wanted a woman with the intensity he wanted her. “I’m sorry.”
Her chin lifted, a show of pride belied by the glassiness of her eyes. He was such a prick.
“Bye,” she said snidely.
“Sheilagh, don’t be like that. I’m doing the right thing.”
“Which is what, getting me naked and abandoning me two minutes after the most incredible orgasm I’ve ever had in my life?”
His head shot up. “In your life?”
She groaned and threw a sock at him. “God, get out!”
“Please try to understand, Sheilagh. I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman. I don’t know what it is about you, but I lose all control in your presence. I have to leave. If we cross that line we’re only inviting trouble we don’t need into our lives. I can’t do that to you.”
She looked away and he needed to make sure she’d be okay.
“Please don’t be upset.”
Her hand reached for the blanket and she pulled it over her chest. He shut his eyes.
“Don’t come back, Alec. I can’t deal with you anymore. You send me all sorts of mixed signals, but—no matter what—every time I leave you, I feel the sting of rejection all over again. And I feel a little more dirty.”
“Jesus, Sheilagh, that’s not what I want.”
“Well, whatever you want, I’m once again, inadequate at providing it.”
“Sweetheart…”
She rolled to her side and pulled the blanket to her shoulders, her eyes closed and face turned to the wall. He stepped close and collected his coat. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss into her silky hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. And he was. Truly and utterly sorry.
Chapter Six
Sometimes there’s so much frustration and disgust built up inside of me, I’m amazed I don’t explode. It’s there, seething inside of me like an active volcano and somehow I manage to keep the illusion of a tranquil foothill on the outside. I’m not strong. I’m afraid of my own shadow and anything else having to do with myself. Every ounce of disgust festering inside of me is for the person I’ve become. I hate her. She’s dirty and no one wants her. Not even Alec and he’s the first person that actually made me feel anything real since…
The day before spring break should have been exciting, but it was mostly annoying. Cars appeared from everywhere. People were hyper and rude and racing around shouting to friends, trying to start their holiday as fast as possible.
Sheilagh wasn’t leaving until Saturday morning. Her apartment was clean—for once—and she had a suitcase sitting by the door. She needed to drop off a few returns at the library and then the week belonged to her.
By Friday at four, she sensed the emptiness of the campus. Parking lots were vacant and buildings were barren. As she walked to the library she was surprised she didn’t see tumbleweeds rolling by.
She carried her bag of books to the counter. “Hi. I need to return these. Two are overdue.”
The girl behind the counter scanned the books and Sheilagh put her ID on the counter to clear up the balance. Once that was handled, she walked over to the literature section to find something new to read.
As she perused the selection—steering clear of romance—she pulled out a copy of an old favorite and skimmed the last chapter.
“That’s cheating.”
She stilled and shut the book. Why did he always show up at the most inopportune moments? She returned the book to the shelf and took a deep breath. “I’ve read it over a dozen times. I like the end.”
He glanced at the binding. “He dies at the end.”
“And so he should. He broke her heart.”
He was wearing his teaching clothes, a white button down, rolled at the sleeves, black dress slacks. “How have you been?”
Awful. “Fine.”
“Are you
going home for break?”
She nodded. “Saturday.”
“That should be nice.”
It should be, but she was strangely hesitant to return home after months of homesickness. “Are you doing anything special?”
“Just enjoying the peace and quiet.”
“Will you see your son?”
“He’s gone on holiday with some friends.”
“Oh.”
“Sheilagh, I…”
She stepped back. They couldn’t keep doing this. When he left her weeks ago she wasn’t sure what to make of their predicament. She’d been hurt, angry, and ashamed—none of those emotions were pleasant. She hadn’t been the same since.
She kept her voice at a low whisper, aware others were still in the library. “It was nice seeing you, Dr. Devereux.”
He caught her arm gently. “Are you okay? I feel terrible about what happened.”
More shame. “I’ll be fine.”
He stood close and his rich scent invaded every breath she took. His eyes searched hers and, finally, he stepped back. “I was hoping to see you, but I wasn’t sure how to find you.”
“You know where I live and have my number.”
“Right.”
She shifted her feet. It was painful to see him. He was yet another person she wanted and couldn’t have. “I have to go.”
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
She stilled. Her lips parted in surprise. “Alec…”
“Please. Everyone’s gone. You can come to my place. I’ll cook.”
“What about everything you said?”
“It still stands. Have dinner with me as a friend.”
“You know we aren’t friends.”
“Aren’t we?” His hazel eyes studied her.
“No.”
His gaze dropped. What did he expect? Turning on her heel, she left him there in the literature section and walked home.
When she reached her apartment, she carried her suitcase to her SUV and wondered why she didn’t leave then. She didn’t want to make the drive in the dark. She’d leave the next morning as planned and that was that.
She watched some television and was ready to crawl out of her skin by eight. Finally, going against her better judgment, she grabbed her keys and left.
She pulled into his driveway and parked beside his BMW. As she climbed out of her car, the back door of the house opened. His expression showed complete surprise. They both stilled, separated by twenty feet and a decision that would change everything.
He’d changed into lounge pants and a faded T-shirt. He didn’t look like a professor. He looked like Alec. Handsome, patient, everything she suddenly wanted.
“You came.”
“I was hungry,” she answered plainly.
His mouth curved upward, but the expression failed. He glanced at the ground. “I would have gone to the market if I knew you were coming.”
Silly man. “Not that kind of hunger.”
His chest lifted as he drew in a slow breath. Was he going to invite her in or what? His gaze met hers and she trembled. Or perhaps he’d only recite all the reasons she wasn’t right for him. This was a mistake. Yes, she definitely wanted him—stupid or not—but she wasn’t sure she could handle more rejection.
It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t supposed to want him like that. She’d spent years wanting only one man while all the rest came up short. When Alec touched her the other night, she actually felt something. It felt…right.
It was scary, because she had no other experiences to compare it too. Part of her clung too easily and didn’t want to face whatever this thing Alec presented was. But another part of her wanted to say fuck it and face the light, no matter how badly it burned.
Her feet slowly carried her forward, each step weighted with consequence. Perhaps it would just be tonight. Another night lost like a raindrop in a puddle, but she couldn’t resist the fall.
Her legs trembled as she stepped onto the small porch. Something about him drew her in. Was it that he challenged her? Saw her? There was no explanation justifying the way he made her feel.
He exposed her, pushed her, sometimes he cracked her open so wide it hurt to see the mess inside.
Nothing had ever felt so complicated and so simple. It was him. Her past read like a blurred oil painting, nothing but smudged lines and wavy truths. He was concise, sharp edges of black on white, no gray.
Circumstances made him unattainable, and perhaps that was the draw. He was her own little form of torture, another thing she wanted, but couldn’t have. Why did she do this to herself?
If he could just touch her tonight, hold her so she could fight back the tears, perhaps it would be enough to get her through the next few lonely years. Just tonight.
Stilling as she closed the last foot of distance between them, she shut her eyes and waited. She was tired of looking in from the outside. His scent closed around her and as he softly took her into his arms, everything that was missing seemed to reappear.
Her cheek pressed to his chest, warm and strong. All her rough edges and jagged pieces slipped into place and peace filled her mind. He did that to her. It took her a while to understand he could do such a thing, but he forced her to be real with him and never balked at the Sheilagh he got.
The black faded away to soft amber tones. He was autumn. The winter would return, but for now, she breathed in the radiant burst of color his presence made her feel.
His lips found hers in a slow dance and his kiss was so convincing that she could breathe again. Her arms circled him and he lifted her. She was weightless. She was beautiful. He made her so. He let the color back in, chased out the darkness.
The door shut as his mouth awakened her. His hand brushed over her hair, the presence of its gentle pull reached her soul. Only he did this to her. Only he brought her to life again.
Their bodies wrapped in each other as their kiss erased all others. There were no firsts. There were no terrible seconds. It was only them in that moment in time trapped for as long as they could hold it. They were a bubble floating in the air that would eventually pop and become just another drop falling in the puddle.
He carried her up the narrow stairs and she lay in the soft cushion of his bed. His chest lifted as he breathed looking down at her. “Are you sure?” he asked.
She hadn’t been sure of anything in so long. She’d been sleeping through life, walking and making the motions like a shell flits over the sand as the waves of time beat on.
Alec wasn’t safe. He wasn’t easy. He was the tidal wave that could wash away the last fleck of reality she held. But if he washed her away, away would go all the sadness trapped inside.
Her fingers went to her blouse and slowly released the buttons. His eyes followed each button and his expression remained tense, yet unreadable. Slowly she eased onto her knees and held out a hand to him.
His palm weighed in hers and she drew it close, pressing it between the lapels of her shirt and holding it to her chest. “You make me real. You make me feel, Alec. Please help me.”
His weight eased onto the bed, his eyes sad. The hand on her heart slowly traveled over the curve of her shoulder, tickling the tiny hairs at the back of her neck as he brushed the wisps away from her ear.
His breath was a welcome chill over the shell of her ear. He whispered, “I don’t have all the answers, Sheilagh, but since meeting you, for the first time, I want to try again.”
Her head turned and his mouth caught hers. Easing her back, he crawled on top. Their lips twisted over each other’s. His hands found places on her no one had ever touched. No man had ever taken the time he took to learn her in such a way.
Her eyes shut and it wasn’t scary, because he was there. His fingertips kept her in the now, anchored her to what was real. It hurt, feeling the bleak emptiness slip away, because she first had to admit it existed in order to let it go.
His mouth teased over her pulse and her chest tightened at the weight crushing down
on her mind, the realization she wasn’t normal, that she was broken for reasons and by things she couldn’t understand.
A tear trickled past her lashes and wet the soft hairs by her temple. He eased up and looked into her eyes. She knew he saw her, saw all the ugly parts she’d been running from for years.
“Do you always cry when you make love?” he whispered, stroking away her tears and combing them through her hair.
She met his gaze, determined to give him honesty. “No. I usually don’t feel. You make me feel, Alec. I want to feel it with you.”
He nodded. Did he know? Did he know how sick she really was inside where no one else saw?
“No more illusions, Sheilagh. Show me who you are and I promise I won’t run scared.”
“I’m glass waiting to fall,” she whispered.
“I won’t let you break.”
His lips found hers and she gave over to the press of his lips, the weight of his body.
He removed her bra and she stretched beneath him. He could have been the first. No one had ever touched her with such tenderness. As his mouth closed over her nipple she held him to her, knowing he likely heard the rapid beating of her heart.
She pulled at his shirt and he sat up, lifting it over his head. He was beautiful. Regardless of his age, Alec was in impeccable shape. His chest was dusted with dark hair and his skin was dark in contrast to hers. Her fingertips dragged over his tapered abdomen. She’d never seen a man quite like him.
He slowly stood and reached for the buttons of her jeans. She kicked off her shoes and toed off her socks as he lowered her pants. As the denim peeled off her legs she waited, waited for the emptiness to seep in, waited for the darkness to return and blank her mind, but it didn’t and all she saw was him.
He bent and when he stood he was naked. Her breath sucked tight, filling her lungs. He was different, older, handsome in a distinguished sense she’d never seen before.
The mattress dipped as he crawled beside her. He didn’t just get to it. He held her, touched her. It was sexual, but on so many levels it wasn’t. His hand traced over her ribs, her hips, her jaw. She was there, ready, but he was in no rush.
Faking It (McCullough Mountain) Page 8
