Melting Into You (Due South Book 2) (27 page)

“I’m not. Unpleasant side effects.” She offered a tight smile. “You don’t need to apologize. I forgot too.”

Dammit, why had he been so careless? Condoms weren’t perfect—otherwise, hello, he wouldn’t have a daughter—but he wasn’t a horny teenager, hell-bent on his own pleasure. He always made sure his partner was protected.

“I’m still sorry,
Kez. I haven’t had unprotected sex before, and I’m up to date with regular check-ups.”

He never, ever lost control with a woman. Kezia had changed him, done something witchy-spooky so he fell into her eyes and drowned before he could spot the danger. Bewitched. Enthralled. Totally under her spell. The only logical explanation for his urgency to possess her. The reason he yearned to hear her cries of pleasure and release. Why his chest felt filled with bubbles when he heard her laugh. Why he tried to be the reason for that laughter.

Her hands petted his chest in consoling circles. “You wouldn’t have made love to me if you thought there was any risk you’d hurt me.”

Ben swallowed hard, throat locked up tighter than a bank vault. “Yeah.” He paused, gaze flicking to a spot beyond her shoulder. “And if there are, ah, complic
ations later…I’ll take care of it.”

As soon as the words were out, he wanted to clock himself in his big, fat mouth. Kezia’s internal muscles clenched. This time the sensation didn’t bring a wave of pleasure. She removed her hands from his chest.

“Complications?” Her voice stretched hard and thin like fishing line. “You mean, as an example, our weekend fling resulting in me falling pregnant?”

He stiffened at her tone. Words weren’t his deal. And words meant to soothe the feminine sex were as foreign to him as Latin.
How else could he phrase such a loaded statement? Of course, he’d take care of the situation—take care of her—if their mind-blowingly amazing sex resulted in pregnancy. He didn’t want to overthink that scenario because it scared the shit out of him.

“Kezia—”

She grabbed the banister and eased herself upright. Without making eye contact, she walked down the stairs and picked up her dress.

Like hell would he apologize a third time. Ben stood, jamming himself into his pants, zipping his fly so aggressively he was lucky not to lose a vital part of his anatomy.

“What did I say?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, pinned him with a patented female stare that said:
Really? You’re that frickin’ dumb?
Then, giving him a lovely view of her naked back—which he appreciated because he wasn’t dead—she slithered into her dress.

“I’m tired.” Her ass shook as she wriggled the dress’s zipper partway up. “I think it’s best if I sleep in the guest room tonight.”

Ben folded his arms across his chest, pushing down the jagged lump behind his breastbone. “Fine.”

Now he even sounded like a
pissy female. She could sleep wherever she liked.

A pulse beat in his temple, and his brain ached. She looked so vulnerable with her hair in wild spirals, her shoulders slightly folded in as she collected her lacy bra off the floor. He’d hurt her—they’d somehow hurt each other—and he didn’t have a fucking clue what to say to make it right again.

Kezia paused after snatching up the second high-heeled shoe, shooting him a sidelong glance as she clutched her gear. The look speared him down to the balls; she was hesitating, waiting for him to move so she wouldn’t have to brush past him.

“You take the main room since you’ve already got your stuff spread all over the en-suite bathroom. I’ll grab my ba
g and sleep in the guest room.”

He stalked up the stairs before she guessed how much he wanted to curl around her for the rest of the night. How much he’d started to want to curl around her
every
night.

***

Kezia woke to a cry of a night bird hunting. Goose pimples pebbled her arms and legs. In her restless sleep, she’d kicked off the thick duvet covering the empty, king-sized bed.

Not
how she’d envisioned spending the night—alone, cold, and fighting tears. She fumbled in the darkness for her phone to check the time. A little after four in the morning.

So she’d managed
to sleep for a couple of hours.

She rolled out of bed and felt for the mohair throw she’d used instead of a robe. No need to pack a robe when a sexy, hot-water-bottle of a man would k
eep her warm. So she’d thought.

The silky fabric of her brand new nightdress swished around her thighs as she crossed to the heavy black-out drapes. She’d closed them earlier, not wanting Ben to walk by and glance in, should he be out for a stroll.

What would he have seen if he’d stepped out for some air and peeked into the master bedroom? A woman sharing the mattress space with a roll of toilet paper in lieu of tissues, curled into a self-pitying ball, clamping her lips together so her sobs wouldn’t wake him.

She tugged the drapes apart and cold pewter moo
nlight spilled in through the huge windows. The glass was cool beneath her fingers, and she leaned closer. No one was on the deck or seated in the pair of Adirondack chairs positioned to enjoy the scenery. Pulling back, she glimpsed her reflection.

She sighed and let the drapes fall shut, the inky blackness hiding her puffy eyes and sleep-creased
face.

Gesù
, what a mess they’d made of things.

Bolting into her room earlier, she’d spent an hour vacillating between indignant fuming, panic, and hurt. Finally, she’d swept the snotty toilet paper balls off her bed and sat up. After she’d told him about her mother-in-law’s reaction to her pregnancy with Zoe, she’d bet her last dollar Ben’s inference was innocent. But being male, he suffered from foot-in-mouth disease on a reg
ular basis. Not only was he male, he was Ben. Not a surgeon when it came to dissecting and naming his emotions. She should’ve given him more leeway before cutting him off at the knees.

Above all else, she craved him. Craved his touch, his earthy smell, his big, sexy body that simultaneously drove her wild and provided comfort. They’d agreed to one night together, so dammit—he owed her one night in his arms.

Kezia had padded down the hallway, lifting her fist to knock on his door. The settled silence of the rest of the house amplified the soft snores inside the guest room.

He was asleep?
She’d been tearing her heart out—wanting him, needing him, imploring him to come to her bed so she could explain that she’d been too quick to judge—and the man had fallen asleep.
Merda
.

Stalking back to her room, she was tempted to slam the door and wake the
stronzo
up. But then he’d know who was really upset by their sleeping arrangements. That she was so needy she’d come crawling, even though she suggested sleeping apart.

Now hours later? Awake
again
. And still wanting him, still needing him, and still broadcasting telepathic commands for him to come to her bed. He wouldn’t, though. His stubbornness rivaled hers. But she possessed the blood of Italian fisher folk. Ben was stubborn, but a woman on a mission? An
Italian
woman on a mission? Someone stick a fork in his sexy butt—he was
done
. They would have their night together, because she needed their night together.

Then they’d shake hands as friends after they d
eparted the plane in Oban. Her scolding inner voice didn’t sound convinced. Tugging the mohair throw tighter around her, she stepped into the hallway before she could chicken out.

Hah! A coward she wasn’t. But a chicken? Well, her belly certainly felt stuffed with tickly feathers.

She stopped by Ben’s room—heart thudding painfully, and the skin across her shoulders feeling two sizes too small. This time, no soft snores or rustles from behind the door. Not bothering to knock, Kezia eased inside.

Ben hadn’t drawn the drapes. Shafts of moonlight speared the white-sheeted bed and highlighted the man sprawled in it. He lay on his stomach, dead center of the mattress, face turned away and resting on the crook of one arm. The duvet puddled at the bed’s foot, and a top sheet draped over his legs and the swell of his butt. And oh—she could almost guarantee he didn’t have on a stitch of clothing.

She edged closer, the tickly belly feathers spreading into her throat. What if he woke and ordered her out of his bed? Her toes curled on the cold floor.

Two choices, deceptively simple. Get into his bed—her presence admitting she couldn’t be with
out him. Or return to her room.

Decision made, she let the throw fall away and crawled onto the bed. Ben didn’t stir as she slipped u
nder the top sheet and snuggled into his side, draping an arm over his lower back. Nose to the curve of his shoulder, she inhaled the pure male delight of him.

“A
re you sniffing or kissing me?”

Busted.

He didn’t sound tetchy, only curious. His voice also didn’t contain the stickiness of sleep. Had he heard her creep into his room like a timid cat-burglar, fidgeting while she wrestled with going or staying?

“Kissing.” She pressed her lips to smooth, warm skin. Tested him with her tongue.
Delizioso
. “Maybe a little sniffing, you smell delicious.”

He rose up and rolled onto his side so they were face to face, tugging on a curl of her hair. “
Kez—”

She held a finger to his mouth, wriggled closer, and kissed him. Firm lips met hers and parted with a rough groan, his mouth tasting faintly of mint. He brushed hot kisses down her jaw, late-night stubble grazing her skin. Drawn, as if by super-strength magnets, her fingers se
ttled on his chest. The rapid punch of his heartbeat told her Ben wasn’t as relaxed as his posture portrayed, though he hadn’t moved to touch her.

One hand closed over hers, the other cupped her chin, keeping their mouths at a distance. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re here.” His thumb caressed her throat and she very nearly purred. “But we need to talk.”

It felt like someone picked a glass of iced water off the nightstand and dumped it down her spine. So. This was what men felt like when women spoke those double-edged words. She dug in her toes and tensed to shove herself backward, but he was too fast, letting go of her face and wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her still.

Ben reeled her in closer, fitting his big body close to hers, trapping her knee between his thighs. The heat of his leg warmed her chilled skin. It took every ounce of willpower not to burrow into his arms.

“You don’t like to talk.” Her voice came out a little breathy.

“Wrong. I like to talk with
you
.” His fingers splayed on the small of her back. Hot fingers that threatened to singe through the thin fabric of her nightdress. “Now, about before.”

Not the best time for conversation—as his interest nudged against her stomach. Kezia inhaled to tell him so when eau-de-aroused-male filled her nose. She rocked forward, breathing out something like, “
Wha-for-ohh…”

Ben’s Adam’s apple bobbed in the silvery light as he swallowed hard, gripping her hip to stop her grinding against him. And oh, how she wanted to grind on every lovely inch of him.

“Sweetheart, work with me here.” Humor warmed his voice, layered over a rougher edge of desire.

“I’m trying,” she gasped. “You’re not cooperating.”

“Kezia.”

The way he said her name tamped down the
fireball careening through her.

Fine.

“About before, then.” She sighed and ceased wriggling as if her lady-bits were on fire for him. Which they were. “You hit a sore spot. I over-reacted and I’m sorry.”

“I would’ve preferred you punch me than walk away.”

Normally, she would’ve come out swinging—verbally, anyway. She didn’t often walk away from confrontation. Getting things out in the open, talking, debating, shouting, compromising, kissing, and making up were the cornerstone of her childhood and then her marriage. The first few years of married life, anyway. How she’d hated Callum freezing her out of arguments after Zoe got sick.

“I wouldn’t hit you.”

Fingers tightened fractionally on her. “And I wouldn’t let you deal with an unplanned pregnancy alone.”

“I know.
I know you’d do what’s right.”

The very reason she’d been too scared to call him out on the stairs. Because what could she say?
I don’t want you to just do the right thing by me, the noble, responsible thing. I want more from you than incredible orgasms and that’s terrifying.

“But it’s not something we should get all twisted up about. Callum and I tried to have another child. It didn’t happen, even though the doctor said there was no med
ical reason why.” She shook her head. “Anyway, we shouldn’t worry about complications as there probably won’t be any.”

“Things are already complicated between us,
Kez.” His deep voice shimmered over her skin.

“No, they’re simple. We have tonight and tomorrow morning, then we go home.”