Drowning (16 page)

“Don’t stop…” I managed, breathlessly, but he released my nipple, leaving it tight and hard.

He kissed his way down my body, his lips moving tenderly over my stomach and his tongue exploring my navel before trailing lower, and I caught my breath as he gently parted my legs to move between them. My clitoris throbbed so hard that I tensed, anticipating some discomfort when he touched it. I should have known better from the man who seemed to be able to read my mind… and my body.

He caressed it so softly and tenderly with his tongue that within moments I melted into the mattress. The exquisite, liquid stimulation this offered me was intensified when he slid two fingers into me, their tips gently massaging my G-spot. I was paralyzed by these caresses, a prisoner to my own delight, able only to clutch the sheet in my fingers as a storm of sensation brewed inside me.

I was breathing hard, my heart banging audibly, feeling myself quivering around him as the heat inside me overflowed. I came with an intensity that made me cry out, and his fingers stroked over the erogenous zones inside me to prolong and enhance my spasms of ecstasy.

What we were sharing was deeply, intensely sexual, but at the same time it was something more. I sensed there was a tenderness in his actions; an intimacy between us, that had not been present before.

“Erin,” he breathed, moving over me to look into my eyes. His own pale eyes were wide and I could not read the expression in them, although I could feel the gentleness with which he kissed me. Now his cock was sliding deliciously over my wet, swollen outer lips and I wrapped my legs around him, angling myself to receive him.

“Are you okay with this?” he whispered, as the wide head of his cock touched my entrance, the caress causing me to catch my breath. He was asking, I knew, because this would be unprotected sex… and truly it felt like it, in more ways than one. I didn’t have any defenses left against Nicholas. He had stripped them all away.

“I need you inside me,” I told him. “I need to—to make love with you.”

“I need to make love with you, too,” he groaned. He cupped a hand under my buttocks and, in a series of deepening and utterly sensual thrusts, he entered me. All the while he stared into my eyes. I could not conceal the helpless pleasure that this full, naked penetration offered. He was pushing me wide open, filling me up with his hardness.

“You feel so good, Erin. My God, I’m touching you, inside you, naked.” His voice was husky, filled with emotion.

I wrapped my arms around him, pressing myself close to him, feeling his powerfully muscled back and the rhythmic flexing of his buttocks as he drove himself into me. Slowing his rhythm, he eased himself out before pushing in slowly again and again, letting his thickness glide over all my most sensitive points so that I moaned with the pleasure of it. I felt so in harmony with him, as if we were truly one… the closeness was astonishing and I found myself having to bite back words that I could not risk saying aloud.

Better to think of the sex—to focus on the sheer, raw physical pleasure of this act. Every nerve ending in my body was sparking with delight at his slow, deliberate movements. My eyes were locked with his and I felt as if I was drowning in his gaze.

“And now we go harder,” he whispered, angling his pelvis and withdrawing almost all the way before spearing into me so brutally deep and hard that my eyes widened and I braced myself, anticipating that this would be painful. But as he reached the deepest point, he slowed, easing himself in to fill me completely, so that his engorged head softly kissed my most tender depths.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, his fingers stroking and teasing my throbbing nipples. “I don’t ever want to hurt you. I want to take you. To become one with you. No resistance… no boundaries.”

“Oh, God, that’s good,” I gasped, as he pushed into me again and again. The sensation was incredible. With me totally relaxed, completely trusting, he was able to slowly increase the tempo and vigor of his deep thrusts while offering me one of the most erotic and intimate experiences I had ever had.

I was opened to him, vulnerable to him, completely possessed by him, and it was so astonishingly sexy. I’d never believed I could orgasm in this position, in this way, but my body knew better. I felt my pleasure ratcheting up to a level that was making me breathe fast and thrust my hips toward him. In his eyes, I saw my own amazed delight reflected.

“Yes,” he encouraged me. His fast, powerful movements were filling me up, I was taking him all, as deep as he could go, and the sensation was exquisite. I was gasping, sweat suddenly turning my
skin warm and slick, and suddenly it was too much. The friction was so unbearably delicious it was sending me into a place I’d never been before.

Wild with need, I clawed my fingers into his shoulders, shoving my pelvis into his, bruising my clitoris against him as I greedily devoured the ravishment I needed to reach the final summit. God, his thrusts were turning my G-spot into a liquid hot erogenous zone. I was tightening, quivering, I could not help crying out. I saw his eyes narrow, his face slacken, as he watched me come undone.

My orgasm shook me to my foundations. I came painfully hard, digging my nails into his skin as the convulsions of delight shook my body. And then, as if he’d only just been able to retain the control he needed to see me satisfied, he rammed himself into me once more with a breathless groan. Deep inside, I could feel every powerful spurt that he pumped into me.

My heart was pounding; my body trembling. I did not think I would be able to move for a long while—years, perhaps. Nicholas was still inside me, holding me tightly, soothing my rapid breathing with gentle kisses and whispered endearments so loving they tore at my heart.

Even as I held him in my arms, tasting his skin with my lips and feeling the liquid heat of him inside me, I was doing my best to break free from these wicked tendrils of longing that were drawing me to him again.

After all, this lovemaking could well have been our last. As phenomenal a lover as Nicholas was, and as tender as his words to me were, by the time I was able to leave I was sure he would be tiring of me, ready for some more solitude before his next depraved foray into the world of married women.

And it was best I did not think of where I would be going, or what I would be doing.

It was fully dark
by the time we got up. We dressed by the light of a gas lamp, and Nicholas shone a flashlight out of the doorway, helping me down the steep ladder-like staircase and back to the car. We drove back to the lodge in companionable silence, going slowly, with the window half open and the orchestra of night sounds filtering into the car.

“Let’s see what Miriam left for us,” Nicholas said, slamming the car door and waiting for me to get out before we headed through to the kitchen. “I don’t know about you, Erin, but I’m absolutely starving. And it’s all your fault.” He shot me an unapologetic grin.

The clock on the wall told me it was eight-thirty p.m. and I realized I too was famished.

“We’re in luck,” he announced from behind the open refrigerator door. “There’s a venison pie here, and coleslaw. Do you want a glass of wine?”

A few minutes later we’d assembled our meal at the kitchen table and placed the pie in the oven to heat up. We sat at the table and I downed a full glass of water in a few gulps, realizing I was as thirsty as I was hungry. Nicholas refilled it, and I drank the next one more slowly before starting on my wine.

Nicholas checked his phone, which he’d left in the truck for the day, and listened to his messages. While he was doing that, I took the opportunity to check mine.

Vince had called three times and left no messages. Still, three phone calls was a lot for a man whose most recent words to me had been that he wanted a trial separation. I could only pray he’d reconsidered. I would call him first thing tomorrow, I decided.

Nicholas disconnected and put his phone away.

“They’ve repaired the dam,” he told me. “Joshua says that by the day after tomorrow the new temporary bridge will definitely be passable for pedestrians, possibly even for vehicles. And the police called to say they’re wrapping up the search and rescue operation tomorrow—the one they were using my helicopter to help with. They’ve been able to restore the community’s access to the outside world and transport the survivors safely to hospital.”

“I’m so relieved to hear that.”

The kitchen was filling with the delicious aroma of warming gravy and crisping pastry. Nicholas took the pie out of the oven and cut us each an enormous slice, while I heaped coleslaw onto the plates. This, then, was the second to last night I would ever spend in his company, conversing with him, making love, eating the food carefully prepared by knowledgeable staff.

“I can’t thank you enough for everything,” I said.

He frowned at me, genuinely puzzled. “For what?”

“For putting me up here—hell, for putting up with me here.” I laughed, and he gave a rather reluctant smile. “For making this time so special. Oh, and not least, for saving my life.”

He didn’t look pleased at that, but instead gave a small shrug and began eating.

I felt there was more to be said about what we’d discussed earlier that afternoon, and now seemed like a good time for me to broach a sensitive topic.

“Thank you for telling me about your home life when you were younger,” I said. “It’s helped me understand you better.

“I’m glad it has.”

It was true. Knowing that Nicholas came from an abusive background had helped me figure out a lot about him. His decision to become a paramedic, to help other people in need. His desire to
protect people and animals in his care. His need to safely channel his own anger into intense physical exertion.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course you can.” He sounded wary, though.

“What was he like? Your dad, I mean. What made him do what he did?”

Nicholas took a long time to think about his answer.

“If you’d met him on the street or in the boardroom you’d never have known the real person,” he said. “He was a well-educated man, and he could be very charming. Deep down, though, he was a bastard. A cold-hearted bastard with a terrible temper. He had no conscience, either in business or at home. He was psychopathic, I think, although he hid it well.”

“I’d imagined him as—as somehow being less educated.”

Nicholas’ grim head-shake told me how wrong I was. “It’s not only uneducated people who are abusive. Although it made it worse, in a way, that he wasn’t just some dumb redneck who’d drink his salary every week and then come home and cause hell. My father was a highly qualified man and he became a billionaire through his own cunning, even though I did not approve of his methods.”

“What did he do?” I asked.

Nicholas piled a second helping onto both our plates and refilled our wineglasses.

“My father made his money by loaning capital to struggling companies, buying a controlling interest in them, and basically raping them with crippling interest rates and payback terms for as many years as he could. They often ended up going under after he’d made a massive profit. If they survived, he’d sell them to their competitors.”

“That’s so destructive!”

He nodded. “He toasted their suffering with Tanqueray. And my mother just wouldn’t leave him, Erin. She was too damned traditional, or loyal, for her own good. No matter how hard I tried to persuade her, no matter how many times he threatened her with divorce, she would not walk out of that marriage.”

I stared at Nicholas, and saw sadness in his eyes. I understood now his preference for no-strings-attached relationships.

“Are they still married?”

“They’re both dead,” Nicholas replied baldly. “My mother died first. Until her death, my father continued to beat and abuse her, so to escape her situation, she began drinking heavily. That habit started while I was still at boarding school. In the end, she passed away from liver cancer.”

I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say to that. We continued eating in silence, and I felt a heavy depression descending on me. I felt as if I was only just beginning to know the truth of this man—now, too late, when I was about to leave. Nicholas de Lanoy was no longer the womanizing rogue I’d thought him to be when we first met. I now understood he was a far more complicated human being, a loner, a man who had been afraid to put down roots. Nicholas was a courageous person who had fought his own personal battles and still, from time to time, was forced to conquer his inner demons.

With a sense of unreality, I realized that, fundamentally, Nicholas was far more like me than I’d first presumed.

Our meal finished, he reached across the table and took my hand.

“Will you spend the night with me, Erin?”

It was odd how that single, simple request captured my emotions. After all, it might be the only remaining chance to be with him.

“Of course I will.”

“Come on, then.”

We took a long shower together, kissing deeply under the steaming cascade of water and soaping each other’s bodies before stepping out into the embrace of his enormous fluffy towels. A few minutes later, we were in bed, with music playing softly in the background and a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates on the pillow between us. We
each had a book in our hand, but interrupted our reading from time to time to speak about whatever topics came to mind. My legs were draped over Nicholas’s, and he was stroking my thighs lightly with his fingers while he read.

“I could get used to doing this,” he remarked. “Erin, I don’t think I’m going to be able to let you go. Bridge or no bridge, you’re going to have to stay with me.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, keeping my voice deliberately light.

“It’s more than that.”

“Do you…?” I asked, looking up from my book, and then suddenly wished I hadn’t broached such a personal subject.

“Do I what?”

“Do you do this with all your lovers?”

“What, this? Like we are now?”

“Yes.”

“No,” he said shortly. And then, as if trying to explain himself, “I’ve had quite an isolated life so far, Erin, in terms of personal relationships at least. Partly due to my family life growing up, and partly due to my choice of career.”

“Tell me about your career,” I said, suddenly needing to know about this piece in the puzzle of Nicholas’ past.

“I trained as a paramedic when I’d finished school. My father wanted me to go to university but instead I joined the army, and later worked for other organizations, doing assignments in high risk areas and war zones.”

“Oh.” I nodded, understanding his loner lifestyle.

“I’ve made good money, more than enough to live comfortably, although you couldn’t ever compare my earnings to my father’s rotten billions. But then, three years ago, he died, and I found he’d left every penny of his inheritance to me. I never expected it. I was working up in Libya at the time. I came home and found myself the owner of a fortune I didn’t want.”

“What about your brother?”

Nicholas’s lips tightened. “My father wasn’t the only vicious bastard in our family. My brother grew up worse than him. He’s in prison now, serving a life sentence. And trust me, you don’t want to know what it’s for.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” I said, feeling suddenly cold.

“My immediate family members are, or were, a violent psychopath, an alcoholic, and a cold-blooded criminal. I might have managed to escape those flawed genes by some miracle, but I am certainly not risking passing them on. Not ever. The de Lanoy family name will die with me. I will never have children of my own—and I consider that my service to humanity.”

His voice was as hard as his face. I did not doubt the sincerity of his words. For a moment I reflected on the strange coincidence that he did not want children while I could not have them.

Perhaps, in another lifetime… if fate had brought us together… but that was seductive thinking and I must not pursue it. It was hard enough for me to cope with the painful reality that, one day, some other woman—I now realized, some extremely lucky woman—would be Nicholas’s life partner when he was finally ready to settle down.

Choosing a safer line of questioning, I asked, “Did you buy this place when you inherited your father’s money?”

“Yes. I needed somewhere to live and this was on the market, complete with all its furnishings and fittings as well as its staff. I thought it would be a good place to stay while I decided what to do with the inheritance.”

“And what did you do?”

“At first I wanted to give all of it away—I believed it was blood money, earned through destructive means. But after some consideration, I decided instead to put it to better use.”

“What use?”

“I have put the entire capital sum in a high yield portfolio. Then the interest—which is about a quarter of a billion each year—I’ve been using to start up and grow businesses that make a difference. I’ve invested in ventures that help people to help others, and teach people skills. I want to try to make up for what my father destroyed. I
didn’t know much about business and still don’t, but I’ve taken some good advice from experts, and hired a financial manager who knows what he’s doing, and so far most of the projects I’ve supported have shown growth. At worst, they’ve enabled people to earn a good living and become self-sufficient, and that makes me feel better about keeping the inheritance.”

“That’s awesome,” I said, and he smiled.

“I’m glad you think so.” He stroked my face tenderly before returning his attention to his book.

Let me not be clingy or tearful when the time comes
, I caught my breath.
Let me be able to turn my back on this beautiful man and see this love affair for what it is.

After all, what was it, really? A week of sinful pleasure that served to teach me that my moral standards were nowhere near as high as I had believed them to be.

And, please, let me not end up falling in love with him
, I prayed, although I feared my prayers were already too late.

Much later I woke, disoriented, from a deep slumber. Tangled in the residue of forgotten dreams, I took a moment to remember where I was. In Nicholas’s bed—but after making love and falling asleep in his arms, I now sensed that I was alone.

A quick exploration with my left hand confirmed the fact that the other side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool, the covers rumpled.

Puzzled, and now awake, I sat up, wondering where Nicholas had gone. Straining my ears, I thought I could hear the low murmur of his voice. For some reason, thinking of him having a whispered, night time conversation sent a chill of unease through me. Was something wrong?