by Jill Shalvis
“Dammit.” Apparently unwilling to wait, Sean shoved her hands away and tugged the zipper down, parting the sweater, exposing her pale skin to his gaze for the first time. Ever. One more tug, and the water-soaked weight fell off her arms. As he already knew, her silky white bra had a front clasp. It was also wet, which left the material so sheer she might have been wearing nothing.
Jaw clenched, Sean opened that, too, and with a deep, ragged breath, peeled it away from her skin.
Her nipples were two hard, aching peaks. He closed his eyes but didn’t say anything. She thought she heard a soft moan escape his lips, but she couldn’t be sure. “Sean—”
“Don’t.”
Her skirt came off next and, kneeling on the floor, he went after her boots, leaving her in thick tights and panties.
The tights had to be peeled away one leg at a time. The feel of his fingers on her, the way his dark head bent to his task, the way he held his breath, all combined to string her so tight she thought she might snap. Her heart certainly hadn’t gotten the message that he would never again touch her the way he had on the beach, because it was racing in anticipation. Her every nerve had done the same, so that a simple stroke of his hand down her leg caused her to tremble all the more.
Finally, he slid his hands up her thighs and hooked his thumbs in the sides of her panties.
She stared at him, not breathing.
He stared at her, his breathing rough and uneven.
As the air danced over her wet, chilled body, she really did get cold.
But his hot gaze warmed everywhere it landed, and it landed plenty. No matter what he wanted to feel, he still desired her. He couldn’t hide that.
He wasn’t immune! It gave her a surge of hope, because he couldn’t both hate her and want her, too, could he? No, she decided, he couldn’t. Maybe it would have to start from physical release, his forgiving her. She’d appeal to him on an emotional level after, when he was ready.
Slowly he skimmed the panties down her legs, and if she’d expected him to avert his gaze, he didn’t. He looked right at her, all over her, and along with her trembling came a need she’d never known before.
He couldn’t have missed how aroused she was, not from his vantage point with her breasts just above his head, nipples thrust out, hard as stones. Between her legs she felt her own creamy wetness, which had absolutely nothing to do with the rain.
Standing there, completely exposed to his hot, hungry, angry gaze, she felt yet another powerful shudder go through her.
Suddenly, he surged up, pulled off her black wig and dropped it to the floor. She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t for him to slip his fingers into her real hair. He massaged her head for a moment. She let out a soft sigh. Then, with hard eyes and grim mouth, he stepped back and opened the shower door.
He was going to shove her into the shower and pretend none of this existed between them. He was going to shut the door on her and walk away. She couldn’t let him, so she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed close.
Swearing again, he slipped his hands around her waist, lifted her and turned toward the open shower door.
And for that one second, when she was plastered against him, she closed her eyes and savored the feeling. Her thighs, her belly, her breasts were all smashed against his wet, cold clothes, but the sensation of being so open and vulnerable, of being completely naked to his fully clothed body, was startlingly arousing.
His eyes were tightly closed, as if he was trying not to feel her.
So she wriggled. A lot. Wrenching another curse from him.
“Be still, dammit.” But he couldn’t deposit her in the stall without getting into the shower himself, so they hovered there.
“Sean—”
“Quiet.”
“There’s only one way to make me quiet,” she whispered, and brazenly slid herself over the bulge straining the fly of his pants.
A strangled sound escaped him. “I am absolutely not having sex with you.”
Sex. That’s what it had been to him.
To her, it had been much, much more. And she might have had a chance at making him think so, too, except for her deceit.
Swallowing hard, she leaned forward, pressed her bare breasts to his chest and was gratified to see his jaw clench. “I hurt you, Sean. I’m sorry. Please, let me tell you about it.”
“I knew something was off,” he said with a shake of his head. “I just kept excusing it, excusing you.” A mirthless laugh escaped him as he looked into the spray of water. “Joke’s on me. Again.”
“I reminded you of Tina. Mrs. Trykowski told me what she did to you,” Carlyne said when his head whipped toward her in angry surprise. “She told me you locked your heart up after that, and—”
“Not good enough, I didn’t.” He gave a cynical smirk.
She’d have to show him how good it could be, if he’d just give them a chance. Gently, she nibbled at a corner of his mouth. Then the other corner.
“No,” he said, much less convincingly, and she tilted her head to the side to deepen the kiss, using her lips, her tongue, her heart and soul to tell him what he had to know—that no matter what she’d done, she still loved him, she’d always love him. He moaned and gripped her body tight as if he meant to pull away.
She softened their connection, tender and gentle, because she knew that was the true way to his heart, not aggression or heated passion, which he could have gotten from anyone.
He moaned again, then again when she used her hands, dancing them over his shoulders, his arms, anything she could reach, until finally he stepped with her into the shower fully dressed.
Wrapping her arms tighter around his neck, she breathed his name, but his eyes were tightly closed, his face a mask of agony and indecision.
He was still going to change his mind.
So she kissed him again, kissed him and slid down his body so she could start on the buttons of his shirt. He resisted, standing still and rigid as she kissed every inch of skin she revealed when she tugged his shirt down his shoulders, letting it fall to the shower floor, until he let out a helpless sound of pleasure and lent his fingers to the cause. His pants came next, and she went to her knees to drag them down his legs. Again, she kissed what she exposed, starting with a lean hip, a tense thigh, the spot between the two…
She’d barely gotten started when he lifted her, pressed her back against the wall and slid a hand between her thighs. Already he knew her, knew exactly where to touch to make her insides burn and her bones dissolve.
He opened his eyes, lifted his head and watched her with dark intensity as he slowly and purposely brought her to the very edge.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
“No,” he said in a rough whisper. “Don’t you hide from me, not ever again. Open your green eyes and look at me, dammit. Show me you, the real you this time.”
“It is me,” she gasped, because his touch was her world at the moment. “It’s always been me.”
“But I’ve never seen you. Not like this.”
His fingers never changed their rhythm. On the very verge of coming, she could hardly hear or see past the roaring in her head, past the raging need. “I…I can’t stand, Sean.”
Still stroking her, he wrapped his other arm around her waist and lifted her up, bracing her between the wall and his body, completely supporting her weight. “Do you want me?”
“Yes!”
She barely had time to spread her thighs wide when he thrust inside her with a single powerful stroke.
Instant orgasm.
When she could breathe, she blinked him into focus, his wet body, dark hair and those direct, intense eyes.
Still buried deep inside her, filling her to near bursting with his hot, throbbing length, he demanded, “What the hell do I call you?”
Spread wide, open to the touch of his body and his gaze, she couldn’t recover. Little aftershocks were still rocking her body. “What?”
“Your n
ame,” he said roughly. “What do I call you?”
Oh. Oh.
Carly.
Carlyne.
Her deception, his pain.
Her own pain.
If she stopped to think about what would happen after tonight, she’d lose it, but she still had this, she had right now. And right now he was deep inside her, pulsing, hard as steel, with his hands all over her.
“Carly,” she whispered, choking back a sob. “I want to be Carly.”
“Carly,” he said thickly, withdrawing from her slowly only to plunge back inside.
He kept touching her, everywhere, and her insides started a deep trembling she couldn’t control. Unbelievably, she was going to come again. Her eyelids fluttered, but she forced them open so she could meet his gaze and see everything he felt, let him see everything she felt.
Another slow, purposeful stroke, and she was lost. She was always lost with him.
And when she was with him, she was found.
12
SHE WENT TO BED alone and woke up alone.
Princess Carlyne Fortier had definitely outstayed her welcome. Maybe Carly Fortune never would have, but that was a moot point now, wasn’t it?
Sean had learned the truth, and he’d clearly decided that not only couldn’t she be trusted, but she was far more trouble than she was worth.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise. After all, no one in her life had ever wanted her just for her. Why should now be any different?
Getting out of bed and back into the shower reminded her of Sean. In fact, she thought, gliding the soap over her body, she might never have another shower without remembering how he’d taken her the night before, how he’d touched and kissed her as if his life depended on it.
Hers certainly had.
But afterward, he’d still refused to talk. He’d sent her to bed and hadn’t come back to her.
Carly hadn’t expected to sleep, but she had. And now the house was awfully quiet. Too quiet.
She threw on clothes, raced down the hallway and came to a skidding halt in the kitchen. At the back door, with a big bag on one shoulder and Melissa in his other arm, stood Sean.
“You changed your hair!” Melissa cried, pointing. “It’s yellow and all cut off!”
Sean said nothing, his eyes cool and distant.
Carly fingered her short blond bob. She’d never colored her hair and always went for the low-maintenance type of cut, because fussing with it was a low priority. Not to mention she hated wasting time at the salon.
Most would be shocked at that fact, expecting her to enjoy the pampering.
“Pretty,” Melissa said. “You coming?”
“Where are you going?”
“Work,” Sean said curtly.
One more minute upstairs and she would have missed them.
“I get to go today.” Melissa beamed. “If I don’t touch anything.”
“I thought you’d be going back,” Sean said. “So I’ll take her with me.”
Her heart had dropped to her toes. “Back?”
“To your life,” he said. “After all, the game is over, isn’t it?”
She struggled with her composure and failed. “It was never a game. You’d know that if you would let me talk to you.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got to go.” He opened the door, but at the last minute turned back.
Her heart returned to its proper place because he was going to change his mind. They were going to talk.
“Bye, Carlyne,” he said quietly.
“Carly,” she whispered, but he was gone.
As always, she was left alone, all because of who she was.
When would she learn?
Lifting her chin, she went to her room for her purse. She didn’t want Carly’s things. They could stay. She’d come to prove she could make it in the real world, but instead she’d learned an important life lesson.
She was on her own.
And she’d survive.
NIKKI STARED at Melissa as Sean walked into his office. “Where’s the sexpot nanny?”
“Watch your language,” Sean said, and set down the wriggling Melissa. “And she wasn’t a sexpot.”
“Uh-huh.”
Sean looked at Nikki in exasperation. “She wore huge, baggy, shapeless clothing, long hair that hid her face and too much makeup. How is that a sexpot?”
“Because you couldn’t keep your eyes off her.”
Hard to argue the truth, so he turned away from his too-knowing assistant and looked for Melissa, who for a little thing had disappeared awfully quickly.
“Quick,” Nikki warned, pointing at the blond head bobbing its way across the room. “Never mind, I’ve got her.”
Melissa was zeroing in on the candy jar on Nikki’s desk.
Nikki beat her to it. With a triumphant smile, she set the jar in her desk drawer and turned the lock. “Not anywhere near my desk, you don’t.”
Melissa folded her arms and stuck out her lower lip.
“Try it on someone who falls for the act, kid. So…” Nikki looked at Sean. “Where is she? Parking the car, right? She’ll be here any second to take over—”
When Sean shook his head, Nikki groaned. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Everything,” he added miserably.
“See?” she cried. “This is why messing around with co-workers is such a bad idea.”
“Tell me about it.”
Nikki put her hands on her hips. “Just answer me one question. Why? Why did you have to blow it with her before your sister got back? You only had, like, what? A few days left?”
“How do you know I blew it?”
“Because you’re the guy, slick. Guys are always the one to blow it.” She sighed loudly and looked at the still-pouting Melissa. “Okay, missy, listen up. No candy. No feeding the CD player. No touching any buttons on anything, especially the telephone. Keep that in mind, and we’ll all get along. Got it?”
Melissa thought about that. “How about all those pretty colored pens in your desk?”
“The Hi-Liters? Consider them yours, if you color only on the paper I give you. Deal?”
Melissa smiled her killer four-year-old bargaining smile. “Ice cream?”
“You haven’t had lunch yet.”
“We could have ice cream for lunch.”
“Nope.”
“For dessert?”
“If the ice cream truck comes by.”
Melissa’s smile spread. “’Kay.”
With some relief, Sean went into his office, determined to keep himself so busy he couldn’t think.
It turned out to be impossible. Oh, he could keep busy, no problem. Melissa was helpful in that area, running both Nikki and himself ragged with terrifying ease.
But the thinking part…he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
And busybody Nikki was no help.
After awhile, she popped her head into his office. “I’ve got Melissa counting paper clips.” Getting comfortable, she leaned against his desk. “So…what did you do to Carly?”
Other than take her three times on the dark beach, then yet again in his steamy shower, all in ways that were going to fill his dreams with heat and longing for years to come? “Nothing.”
“Melissa said you fired her because she changed her hair color.”
“I didn’t fire her.”
“But she changed her hair color?”
“Nikki.”
Ignoring his warning tone, she sank into a chair and looked at him expectantly.
He sighed. “She’s Princess Carlyne Fortier.”
Nikki’s eyes widened. “Wow, this is better than my soap opera. I thought she was at a retreat or something.”
“Or something.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “For whatever reason, she was hiding out here. With me. Playing at being a nanny.”
Nikki frowned. “I don’t think she was playing, Sean. She seemed really into Melissa. And you,” she added. “I don’t think she could have faked th
at. So why did she do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she say when you asked her?” At his silence, she groaned. “You didn’t ask her.”
“No.”
“Sean!”
“Well, why the hell would she have wanted to be a nanny, anyway?” She was hot. Beautiful. Sexy. Intelligent. It made no sense at all.
And why did he even care? She’d lied. Used him.
Hurt him.
“Maybe she wanted a break from her life,” Nikki suggested.
“Yeah, all that money must be tiresome.” He thought of what he’d paid her and was embarrassed. It had been a very fair salary, but he hadn’t known she was a damn princess. To her, it would have been pocket change. “Look, she lied, Nikki.”
“Ah.”
There was a volume of knowledge in that ah. “What does that mean?”
“Sean,” she said gently. “Not all women lie just to screw with you. Carly is different than Tina. Tina hurt you just because she could. That was the kind of woman she was. I think Carly, on the other hand, probably has a good reason.”
Maybe. But regardless, he’d really fallen for her. And when they’d made love, he’d felt the earth move.
Hell, he was so confused. And more hurt than he could have believed possible, especially when he’d promised himself never to get hurt again. “Whatever her reason, she’s gone.”
“She just…left?”
“Well…”
“Sean!”
“Okay, so maybe I told her she’d be wanting to go back now.”
“You kicked her out? You poor, stupid idiot. Did she even hesitate?”
No, he wanted to say, but that would be a lie of his own making. Truth was, she had hesitated. The look she’d given him when he told her to go home had twisted his heart before he’d managed to harden himself. “She might have hesitated. A little.”
She shook her head. “And now you’ll never know what could have been.”
Now he’d never know. He’d never know if what they’d shared had been real or fake. He’d never know if she might have wanted to stay. He’d never know how she might have reacted if he’d told his truth, that he’d fallen in love with her.
