Pride After Her Fall (9 page)

‘Are you going to kiss me, Lorelei?’ His deep voice teased her.

‘Oui.’
She put a hand to his chest, but instead of giving him a kiss she reached up instinctively and stroked his jaw with the backs of her fingers, wanting to stay the moment.

Nash stilled. The blue of his eyes darkened almost to black as he caught her hand and pressed a hard kiss to her knuckles, then he brought his mouth down on hers. A hot, passionate stamp of possession. He wanted her.

Everything Lorelei had decided, conjured, felt about Nash Blue did a somersault. Everything she’d been holding up to protect herself tumbled away. She had wanted him from the moment she saw him, which was a first for her, but she wanted something else and she wasn’t sure what that was yet...

As his mouth roamed over her face, her throat, her shoulders, she inhaled the scent of spices and soap and man, splaying her fingers in his thick dark brown hair. She reached lower, spreading her hands over his broad back.

Feeling oddly vulnerable, she let her thoughts flicker back to all the female interest in him today. She wondered what would have happened if she wasn’t here. Was this what he did? Found the prettiest girl, scooped her up in his fast car and took her off somewhere...?

‘Nash,’ she said, perturbed by the anxiety she could hear in her own voice, ‘what are we doing here?’

He smiled—a slow, unbelievably beautiful smile she had never seen before. There was an expectant tension in his hard muscled frame as he came over her, and instinctively she lifted her hand to his shoulder. His skin was so warm, his body so solid. She felt as if she could be anything, do anything, if she had this solidity behind her. It was a silly girlhood fantasy, long robbed from her by life and experience, but she was allowed it, wasn’t she? Just for tonight? Tomorrow was soon enough to face cold reality, where she was on her own, but in the moment she had this.

She suddenly didn’t care about all the other women, didn’t care that she’d offered herself up to him at that racetrack. She didn’t care about anything but the feeling of rightness having him here with her gave her.

‘I believe we’re making love,’ he said, in that deep, rich voice that flowed like warm honey through her limbs and made her pliant as she drew his face down to hers.

‘Nash...’ She said his name, pressing her lips to the base of his throat. ‘Nash...’ She said his name as she placed kisses along his jaw, nuzzled him. Wanted him.

She reached down and stroked his erect, heavy penis with her hand. His face so close to hers grew heavy with sensual pleasure, and his eyes beneath those sinfully thick black lashes were hot and sexual. He was so beautiful and so male Lorelei couldn’t stop looking at him. She didn’t want to stop. She felt powerful but also vulnerable at the same time, and never so female.

He took her hand and helped her guide the hard silken length of him to the entrance of the wet, hot heart of her body, his eyes never leaving hers. The head of his penis probed gently, and then he moved into her with one long, slow thrust.

Lorelei moaned, trying to accustom herself to the unfamiliar feeling of fullness.

‘How is it?’ His glittering blue eyes were close to her own as he brought their temples together.

‘Wonderful,’ she whispered, and in that instant she believed him about making love.

Filled by him, she wrapped her legs around him, taking him deeper. The passionate kissing, his mouth riding against hers as he surged inside her, the careful way he held her even as the pressure built for him—all coalesced into an intense emotional experience as she began the steady climb towards a blissful fall.

CHAPTER TEN

L
ORELEI
lay in his arms, her face obscured by the cascade of her pale curls, her delicate beige-tipped breasts rising and falling rapidly as she slept. Faint tear-marks still glistened on her cheeks.

She had wept. She had pressed her face into the curve of his shoulder and wept after the first time they’d come together. Her whole body had quaked in his arms. He told himself sometimes that could happen for a woman, and he felt in Lorelei that her emotions were very close to the surface. But what didn’t happen were the emotions
he
had felt...

Protective. Passionate. And stirred to action. Because those tears, he sensed, were not just a physical reaction to the intensity of what had happened in this bed.

So he had held her as she cried, and soothed her with his body, until somehow he was inside her again—and this time everything was so much slower, as if time itself had altered to fit the rhythm of their entwined bodies and he was giving her what she needed.

Sex he understood. Physical pleasure was one of the necessities of life—like water and sunlight and racing at high speeds around a track.

He wasn’t entirely sure he understood this. What had happened in this bed.

It was nearing dawn. The first fingers of light had come creeping through the shadeless windows and there were pale shadows across the covers. The day was approaching and he didn’t want it to come. He wanted to still time a little longer.

Watching her sleep, he felt almost as if he had captured some wild nymph from the woods and brought her to capitulation in his bed. She was so delicate, almost fey, he realised with a faint smile at the direction of his thoughts. She needed to be handled with care...and that should be sending warning bells off in his head, he thought, even as he stroked the silken curve of her bent arm.

His smile faded. Only hours ago he’d told himself this was merely the slaking of an appetite. He’d reasonably assumed his interest in her was powered by his sexual attraction to her body, as it had been with dozens of other women over the years.

But something else was at play here.

Even now he wanted to mark her so that other men would know she was his and wouldn’t lay claim to her.

What am I doing here?

He didn’t know.

Apart from the obvious, which was pressed against her hip and demanding his attention—or actually hers. It would be too easy to stroke her body to wakefulness and bury himself inside her, allow mindless pleasure to provide answers. But they had been doing that all night and his own stamina in itself had been a surprise. He’d never doubted his sexual prowess, but last night had been...rare.

Like the woman...

Nash touched the cluster of curls falling over one eye, hooking the silky weight behind her small ear, and she smiled sleepily, slowly opening her eyes. She lay there just looking at him and he was happy to let her look her fill. Her smile faded a little as she connected with his eyes, and she reached up and ran her index finger down the sweep of his jaw as if, like him, she was a little baffled by what had occurred.

‘Is it morning yet?’

‘Not yet.’ His voice was rougher than usual, stripped back and raw. He needed coffee to lubricate it, but right now he wasn’t thinking about breakfast.

Yeah, he could just about hammer nails with his erection but for a moment he wanted just to look at her.

Her hair lay about her head on the pillow like a bright halo. Her tip-tilted eyes were sleepy soft, her mouth swollen from his kisses. She appeared so delicate he would be a brute to initiate anything...

She sat up slowly, dislodging his heavy arm, which he obligingly lifted, a little surprised. But she was pushing back the covers, uncovering them both, still smiling, her eyes twinkling at him.

‘Good,’ she said.

Then slowly, silkily, she began to lead a trail of fiery little kisses down the centre of his chest, over his abdomen and lower, until he was gripping the sheet and forgetting everything but this.

* * *

Lorelei examined her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She’d done her best with the comb in her purse, warm water and a fresh toothbrush Nash had on hand in his cabinet. She hesitated as she held her lipstick up to her mouth, because the woman gazing back at her didn’t need any make-up.

She had a glow.

Soft pink colour in her cheeks, a gleam in her eyes. Almost wonderingly she touched her lips. Her mouth looked frankly sensual.

She looked like a woman who had had a very good time indeed.

Smiling softly to herself, she dropped the lipstick back into her handbag and closed it, taking a longer look at the rest of her appearance. There was nothing worse than wearing clothes from the day before, but that couldn’t be helped—and at least she wasn’t in an evening gown.

Lorelei met her own gaze again, this time a little less confidently. This was a first for her, just to go off with a man and spend the night with him outside of a relationship. She knew he probably thought, given the chaos going on around her yesterday, that the walk of shame was hardly a first for her, but it was. She was careful in her romantic life to an almost fanatical degree. Men had to jump endless fences before they landed in her bed. She’d seen too much bed-hopping and sad, needy women growing up as Raymond St James’s daughter to do anything else.

Ça va.
She steadied her chin. She didn’t have to worry. Even if she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing she didn’t regret last night.

The tears, yes. She wished she hadn’t cried. But that couldn’t be helped.

She emerged to find Nash was talking into a cell phone on the balcony, the wind ruffling his hair. She was slightly taken aback by the sight of him in an Italian suit that lay close and faithful to the proportions of his fit body. He looked every inch the powerful and successful sportsman gone corporate, and here she was with damp hair, wearing yesterday’s casual clothes. Talk about heading into the morning after with a disadvantage.

Sighing, Lorelei joined him, her desire to slide her arms under that expensive crease-free jacket, to encircle his hard, lean torso and enjoy the closeness of the moment held in check by the memory that, although last night had been intimate, she was old enough and wise enough in the ways of the world to realise they hadn’t really done any talking of consequence. She didn’t have a clue where she stood with him.

She wasn’t entirely clear on where he stood with her, either. She’d gone into last night telling herself she had her eyes wide open, except this morning that pragmatism was curdled with a lot of fuzzy emotions she couldn’t quite sort out.

So she settled for lifting onto her toes and pressing her lips to his freshly shaven jaw. Nash smiled, but he didn’t make a move to end his conversation.

When he did it was to say, ‘Ready? I’ll run you home.’

Lorelei couldn’t account for the cold trickle of disappointment that ran through her veins. It was perfectly reasonable that he’d be keen to get a move on this morning. It was after eight o’clock. He probably had a busy working day ahead—hence the phone call. She had to be at the equestrian centre at ten herself. They were adults. There were lives to get on with...

Dinner?
Oui,
dinner tonight, and then more...of this.
This
was making her tremble behind the knees and other places where she was tender. But also conversation. They would talk and clear the air and...

But perhaps this was it.

‘Bien.’
She injected a breeziness she suddenly wasn’t feeling into her voice. It wasn’t that difficult—she did it all the time in social situations. ‘Can I drive?’

He pocketed his cell, gave her a wink. ‘No.’

It wasn’t until they were driving out that she fully appreciated she had made a mistake. On their trip last night she had been the centre of his attention. If a meteor had hit the road he would have merely hung a left and driven on, intent only on their mutual destination.

This morning he looked what he was: a busy man with a schedule and not a lot of downtime. Preoccupied, a little tense, blocking her out. She was very clearly being driven home. This was it.

She told herself she was a grown-up. Neither of them had made any promises, and she wasn’t really in any condition to be opening up her life to anyone at the moment...

They were on the corniche when he said, almost casually, ‘I’ve got meetings today and tomorrow. In fact I’ll be held up for the next few days.’ He glanced over at her. ‘How about I call you next week? We can spend some time together.’

Light exploded behind Lorelei’s eyes. It was one thing to tell herself this was the way of the world. It was another to hear him speaking so lightly about the intimacy they had shared...
Spend some time together.

For a moment she didn’t know what to say. What was she supposed to say?
I thought I could handle one night, but I was wrong. Last night overwhelmed me. I’m feeling emotions I know have no place between us and now you’re telling me you’ll call me... It’s not enough.

Her mouth suddenly felt dry, her throat tight.

‘I know it’s not ideal after last night, but—’

No, not ideal. Nothing about this was ideal.

He looked over at her. ‘I’ve got a lot going on, Lorelei. I didn’t expect this.’

No, neither had she.

He sounded annoyed, but also faintly bemused. Memories of him kissing her so slowly and thoroughly, as if the pleasure of it was all he’d wanted in that moment, assailed her unmercifully. Unconsciously she found herself running the tip of her tongue along the rim of her bottom lip.

Nash shifted restlessly beside her.

Why had she thought she could do this and not be hurt?

‘Or you could call me.’

His voice was almost gruff and she glanced over.

No, she couldn’t call him. How could he possibly think she would call him?

‘Will I?’

Nash looked at her sharply. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘Rien.’
Her voice sounded like a rusty gate. ‘What could possibly be the problem?’

He had the temerity to glance at that big silver rock of a watch clinging to his left forearm. ‘Okay,’ he said slowly, like a man navigating a floor suddenly covered in glass shards, ‘I will call you.’

‘You do that.’ She stared stonily out of the window, a thousand angry words jostling for some sort of order of merit on her tongue.

‘What am I missing here?’ he said, probably not unreasonably.

Bastard! What do you think? I’m just going to vanish out of your life?

She’d grown up hearing those sentiments. Every woman her father had disappointed had flung something similar at him—as if he’d cared.

Douleur bonne,
she might never have had a one-night stand before, but she certainly wasn’t going to make a fool of herself by airing her messy female emotions now.

Non,
she was a St James.

She lifted her chin. It had happened. Best to move on. She wasn’t going to create a scene. From the tense silence emanating from Nash he was clearly expecting one.

The turn-off to her villa couldn’t come quickly enough.

Nash barely had the Veyron at a standstill when she was fumbling for the door.

She swore, knowing that if she didn’t get out of there fast she was going to embarrass herself. The door gave and she shot out.

‘Lorelei.’

Nash’s voice was peremptory—the voice she imagined he used on the track, with his pit crew, not a tone you used with a woman you had held in your arms and made love to.

Made love? It had been sex. What else could it be? They didn’t know one another. She was a fool for expecting anything else...

She gave him his moment, not really expecting anything at this point, her hand still on the door.

‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ He actually sounded concerned—which was a joke.

She shook her head in disbelief. ‘What’s the point?’

Lorelei slammed the car door, and then wished she hadn’t as she strode as fast as she could around to the front of the house. She rarely used the front entrance, but anger had blurred her thoughts. It had also blinded her, so she’d almost reached for the lion’s paw front door handle before she saw the large padlock.

What on earth?

She gave it a tug. Was this some sort of joke? She seized hold of it with both hands and rattled. Then she banged even as she knew it was no use. She slammed her palms against the doors and then let them slide down and lowered her head, because it had finally happened.

Almost as an afterthought she noticed the large vellum envelope wedged under the door. She knelt down and picked it up, tore it open. She read slowly, the words like sticky toffee in her head. Was this even legal? The fact she didn’t know was all the more damning. She should have known. She should have researched these possibilities. She should have been
aware.

What had she been doing for the past months?
Rien.
Running around, blocking out reality, not making herself available to the people who could have helped her. Her solicitor, her accountant...her friends. And where had she been yesterday when this was happening? Pursuing a man.
Sleeping with a man who didn’t care a jot for her.
She should have known!

Lorelei found she was trembling.

Non,
she could deal with this on her own. She just needed to think logically.

Terese and Giorgio.

They would have some understanding as to what had happened here.

Fumbling in her bag, she dug out her phone.

The phone she’d been ignoring for days.

Sure enough there were several missed calls from the Verrucis and a message from Terese, she had rescued Fifi. Dialling, she got Terese’s voicemail.

Fine—she’d ring for a taxi. Except she didn’t do that. She dropped her cell into her bag and sank down onto the flags, her back pressed up against the door now bolted against her.

Strangely, she just felt like laughing. But she knew if she started it would end in tears, and crying wasn’t going to change anything.