STORM: A Standalone Romance (5 page)

              "You can't have had long to imagine it," Cara noted quietly.

              "Since I first laid eyes on you," he said. "I've wanted absolutely nothing else. I barely slept at all last night, and that was before I'd even spoken to you. The thought of your body beneath the sheets that I owned… It seemed cruel that I shouldn't be beneath them with you. I don't think I've ever met someone as exquisitely and effortlessly sexy as you are. And that
fire…"
Simon breathed in suddenly, and Cara realized he wasn't talking about the one burning in the hearth beside them. "What a temptation you are."

              "Just let yourself be tempted, then." Cara pushed back against him, and now it was Simon's turn to shudder. "Come on," she egged him. The fire in her, the fire that enflamed Simon, made it sound almost as if she had just issued a challenge. "I promise I won't think you're a bad host if you take advantage of your position."

              Simon had risen to kneel before her in the chair. Cara uncurled her legs, and was pleasantly startled when the man grasped her thighs and yanked her against him. Seeing him momentarily lose control of his urges for her was an incredible aphrodisiac. Cara threaded her arms around his neck to keep herself upright, moving in for a kiss in the same instant she ground her hips against his.

              Simon moaned deeply, and Cara took advantage of his helplessly parted lips to return the kiss he had given her back in the pool. Their tongues met in a hot tangle, and she slowly undulated against him all the while, relishing the pelvic friction. She felt Simon's hand come up beneath her ass to grip it, completely oblivious to the obstruction of her skirt; his fingers pressed against the tissue-thin fabric of her underwear from behind as he grasped her rear, dictating the rhythm of her movements. It wasn't long at all before Cara felt the telltale bulge in the front of his pants that told her she was doing an excellent job. She aligned it for her next upward sweep, and was rewarded for her efforts when they both gasped aloud into the kiss; were they not wearing clothes, they would already be fucking. The thought sent a dark thrill through her, and she insistently thrust her hips against him again. The hands on her waist pushed her to an immediate stop, and she could see that Simon was breathing raggedly.

              "I can't," he said. "This is a mistake, with you. I'm your host, and…you shouldn't feel as if you owe me anything, Cara. It's best if I don't let myself get into this position with you again."

              Simon rose, and Cara shifted forward in the chair, pulling her skirt back down. She was too aroused to feel properly angry this time; there was confusion, certainly, but also a vague sort of amusement felt at Simon's expense. The Englishman who had proved himself so adept at seduction looked ruffled, torn between his duties as a host and his desires as a man. His auburn hair, still just a bit too long, fell in his face, and he pushed it back distractedly.

              She watched him leave the room, still aching for him, but she didn't follow after him. She took satisfaction in the fact that there was only one place he could escape to with an erection like that, and that there could only be one thought on his mind as he took care of the inconvenience himself.

That night Cara dreamed that Simon entered her room.

              In the dream she sat up expectantly. She was unsurprised to see him, had even been anticipating that he would come. A low knock, and then the door eased open before him. He stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light of the hall. Cara shifted the blankets aside eagerly, about to stand to go meet him, but Simon was already entering the room.

              He showed no hesitation in advancing on her. That's how she knew it was a dream. She knew it, also, because he was shirtless, and she could see that the scars she had observed on his back now extended to his neck and chest.

              She didn't care—it was her brain's way of telling her that she needed to focus more on solving the puzzle of the man's accident, when all she really wanted to do in that moment was solve the puzzle of how they fit together. Simon came to her, and she threw her arms around him as he mounted the bed and forced her down beneath him, moving himself with urgency between her thighs. Suddenly they were naked and entwined, sweating, rocking and moaning and calling out each other's names into the night…

              Cara awoke the next morning in a tangle of sheets and matted blond hair. Her heart was hammering in her throat, and she ached all over with unreleased desire. She couldn't take much more of this. She needed to leave today, or she risked devolving into a complete sexual deviant. In the aftermath of her scorching hot dream, she could scarcely think of anything else.

              She took a very long, very cold shower, and allowed the fantasy events from last night to fade away beneath the sobering sting of the water. Her struggle to cast the dream aside left her thinking on the very real events of yesterday, which weren't much better by comparison. There was no denying that Cara and Simon were
extremely
attracted to each other, to the point that they were willing to forego their usual reservations to give into their passions completely… Well, almost completely. Not completely enough. It was disappointing to think about, but maybe an ultimate union between them really was better left to dreams.

              Cara stepped out of the shower, feeling slightly guilty for subconsciously using Simon like that. Her embarrassment only increased as the day wore on, until she could scarcely look her host in the eye without blushing at the thought of what he had been unknowingly doing to her all night long. Simon, too, seemed to have some difficulty looking at her directly, but this may have only been due to the memory of where his hands had been—repeatedly—the day before.

              "I was going to go down to the road and have a look at your car," he mentioned over their late breakfast together. "If you'd like to come with me."

              "Probably a good idea," Cara agreed, and the two of them set off together into the morning. A rare break in the weather allowed for their journey off the property, but they dressed appropriately: sweaters, rain slickers, and galoshes that easily extended over the top of Cara's knees. There was nothing her size stocked in the closet, so she was once more forced to wear his. They slogged together through the mud as they made their way down the driveway.

              Her car was parked along the side of the road where she had left it. The ditch beside it was filled almost to brimming with rushing, clay-colored water—Cara really didn't like the look of it, but it seemed a while yet before it was liable to spill over into the road. She checked all four doors for any sign of a leak as Simon stooped to examine the black mud below the undercarriage.

              "Somehow, I thought I'd be able to solve this for you," he apologized. "The servants already gave me a full report of the damage, but I wanted to have a look myself. It looks like you're completely bogged down. We might be able to get you out if everyone on staff spent the day out here with shovels and boards, but that unfortunately wouldn't solve the situation with your back tire. It's…"

              "Completely blown," Cara finished for him. "I know. I guess I was hoping you might have a spare somewhere in your garage."

              "Nothing that would fit this model, unfortunately."

              She thought she didn't need to ask what kind of car Simon drove. She was sure it was something expensive, something he wouldn't want to risk out on the open road. She was sure that he…

              "There's the potential that I could drive you into town," he mused. His offer took her by complete surprise. Cara stood up from where she had been rummaging through her glove compartment, blinking in astonishment. Simon still wasn't looking at her, but he was gazing back down the long stretch of road this time, musing on his idea as if he could see it coming toward them in the distance. He was wearing a knit winter hat to keep the chill wind off; it pulled his shaggy hair back from his face, and she could see his expression with striking clarity. It took her a moment to recover from how handsome he looked.

              "I have it on good authority that the road south is blocked," Simon continued. "That's on the authority of Gerald and Melinda, anyway, who've scarcely been away from their radio in the kitchen. It's possible I could take you up north into the next town. It would be a few hours' drive to get there, and it would be in the direction opposite of where you're trying to head. But you might stand a better chance of convincing someone face-to-face to drive back out here with you and help you."

              "You personally?" Cara inquired, before realizing that the standalone question didn't make any sense. "I mean,
you
would take me into town?"

              Simon ducked his chin quickly, appearing to regret his words. "One of the servants would take you," he said eventually. "I have a professional driver residing on the property that I can vouch for personally. He would be happy to finally be put to some use."

              "I'd like it better if you drove me, though." Cara closed the passenger side door and circled back around behind the car. Simon still wouldn't look at her.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "But trust me when I say it's better for everyone this way."

"But I
don't
trust you," Cara pointed. "I think you're sneaky. I think you seduce unsuspecting young women you find broken down along the road, and that you listen in on peoples' phone calls."

Simon glanced up sharply at this, but Cara was smiling victoriously. He hadn't let himself look at her all morning, but now she had his full attention.

The man immediately saw what her game had been, and smiled sheepishly in response. "You don't want me to drive you, Cara," he said finally. "I don't have a license to drive here in America, and I'm certainly not going to let
you
behind the wheel of my car while I ride shotgun. Judging from the state of your own vehicle, it would be far too expensive a risk."

"So I guess I'm stuck here," Cara concluded as they walked back up the road to the mansion together. It was certainly not the outcome she had been hoping for when she woke up that morning—at least, not the outcome she was willing to
admit
she had been hoping for. Regardless, she tried not to sound too giddy at the prospect of one last night spent in Simon's company. A sly look his way caught the tail end of a smile, before the Englishmen glanced off in the opposite direction.

"That would be a good guess," he mused.

"Shall we go swimming again?" Cara suggested innocently. The man immediately froze on the path beside her, but she kept walking as if she hadn't noticed. A few quick strides carried him back abreast of her.

"Absolutely
not,"
he whispered harshly, as if they were in danger of being overheard. Cara's eyebrow tugged upward in amusement, but she made no remark as they continued up the driveway. "Rather, I mean…you are more than welcome to use the facility as you wish. I've had…quite enough swimming for the week."

He was making it too easy to tease him this morning, and Cara wondered at the flustered change. She hadn't noticed him drinking over breakfast—maybe that had something to do with it? Or maybe it was something else that now triggered his easy embarrassment. Something like a dream…

They had barely made it halfway up the hill before the clouds converged once more overhead. The sunlight waned, and they simultaneously glanced up to watch it vanish completely. Cara felt a first drop of rain splash down on her nose, and scrunched her expression in distaste.

"Won't it ever let up?" she exclaimed as they started to run for shelter. "Even for a moment?"

In response, she felt Simon grasp her hand. Her heart thrilled at the unexpected contact, but she lost it in the next moment when the sole of her boot slipped in the freshly churned mud and she fell elbows first onto the ground. The splash back of her fall seemed absurd by comparison; it burst upward, completely painting the front of her jeans, jacket, and, worst of all, face. Cara's mouth fell open in a gasp of horror. It was as if time froze as she picked herself back up again, running similarly drenched fingers along the crease of her eyes in an effort to clear holes in the mud mask. She was dimly aware of Simon's uproarious laughter—so much for being a
gentleman
—and then was made more immediately aware of the fact that the man had slipped on his way back to her. He went down backwards in another eruption of mud, but the angle of his fall didn't save him from a fate similar to Cara's own; the mud collapsed back down in a wave on top of him, covering him completely.

Cara raised herself up victoriously from the stew and laughed. "Karma!" she exclaimed.

"I was coming back to
get
you!" Simon yelled miserably, but she could hear the helpless laugh in his own voice. The rain ran in twisting rivulets down through the filth that covered him. It might have been in their best interest to stay out there and let the rain wash them clean, but it was colder now that the clouds had eclipsed the New England sun completely.

Cara struggled through the mud back toward him and held out her hand. "Come on," she invited. As soon as Simon had grasped her and started to haul himself up, she pretended to lose her grip; she let the man's hand slip between her fingers, and turned her head aside at the last minute to avoid getting splashed with more mud from his fall.

"Cheeky
girl!"
he exclaimed. Cara tried not to let another laugh at his expense give away her game, but it failed. She had just bent to offer her hand again, when she felt a leg sweep hers out from beneath her. She had time to emit a very colorful curse before she fell forward. Thankfully, rather than face-plant in the mud, it was the body of a very filthy Englishman that caught her fall.

Then they were kissing, and through the mess and the driving rain, Cara felt her feelings for the man surge unchecked to the forefront once more. She didn't care about the dirt or the grit or the swampy consistency of his driveway; all she cared about was how familiar the press of his lips felt now against hers. All she could think was that it had been too long already since their last session, and that she was determined to make up for lost time.

Simon reared up into a sitting position beneath her, carrying her out of the worst of the mud astride his lap. Cara never broke from him; her lips roved against his firmly, desperately, and Simon returned her energy with an eagerness all his own. She felt his hands push up beneath the back of her shirt, painting the arched incline of her bare skin with mud as he kissed her with abandon. The rain washed their faces clean, and made each joining of their lips more slippery and sensuous than the last.

His other hand cradled the back of her head as he kissed her, and Cara felt herself melt against him. The heat of her attraction to Simon burned almost unbearably hot, it was true, but this felt different than their previous encounters. This felt deeply passionate, and Cara sensed something tremble within her at the realization that her feelings for the man extended much further than just needing sexual satisfaction. He was
interesting,
and
funny,
and more than a little mysterious…and God, the way he kissed her, alternating sides and tonguing his way to the roof of her mouth, as if kissing was the filthiest and most fulfilling thing that a man and a woman could do to each other…

A booming crack of thunder overhead broke them apart. Cara gasped and turned her head up. She regretted the move instantly. Rain flooded down her face, and she took in another startled, slightly choked breath. The noise resolved into a laugh of disbelief at their circumstances. She felt Simon's hand cup the back of her neck, and glanced down to see the man smiling fondly at her. His smile receded some with the next boom of thunder.

"We had better get inside," he said. "Melinda will not be happy with me, but I'd rather face her rage than that of the oncoming storm."

"I think the storm has arrived," Cara mentioned as they got to their feet; no tricks this time. "Thank you for letting me stay another night." It was getting harder and harder to assume the role of the indebted guest when her host insisted on kissing her senseless every chance he got. Simon nodded, studying her a moment longer, before seeming to arrive at some private conclusion about her. He raised his hand to her face, sweeping his thumb through a patch of mud on her cheek, but there was no hope for it: he was right. They needed to head back inside.