Summer in Eclipse Bay (10 page)

“Somehow that doesn't surprise me.”

He put out his hands and gripped the tiled counter edge on either side of her body. In the shadows she was intensely aware of the heat of his body so close to hers. There was suddenly so much electricity being generated both outside and inside the cottage that she was amazed the lights did not come back on. Probably ought to get her hands out of the dishwater, she thought. A woman could have a major household accident in a situation like this.

Nick put his lips very close to her ear. “I was a Boy Scout. You know what that means?”

“Something to do with being thrifty and neat?”

“Wrong.” He grazed her earlobe with his teeth.

“Something to do with getting to wear a cute uniform?”

“Try again.” He touched his mouth to her throat.

“Something to do with always keeping spare batteries on hand?”

“You're getting closer. Much closer.” He kissed her throat. “Something to do with always being prepared.”

“Oh, yeah.” She yanked her hands out of the sudsy water and grabbed a dishtowel. “I've heard about the always being prepared thing.”

He tightened the cage of his body around her so that her backside was nestled snugly into his thighs. She realized at once that he was aroused. Her senses registered that information and responded with a shot of adrenaline. Her pulse raced. There was a faint trembling in her fingertips. Not fear, she thought. Excitement.

“I take the motto seriously.” He brushed his lips along the curve of her throat just below her earlobe. “And not just when it comes to things like flashlight batteries.”

She was abruptly grateful for the inky shadows of the kitchen. At least he could not see the flush of heat that was surely setting fire to her cheeks.

“You taste good,” he whispered. “Better than those little raspberry things we had for dessert.”

There was a new, rougher edge in his voice and she was the cause. All that was female in her rejoiced. Outside, the wind howled. Here in the dark kitchen, power flowed.

He kissed her throat again, his mouth gliding up along the underside of her jaw. She reveled in the intense pleasure and the heady rush of anticipation.

This was why she had tried to keep her distance, she remembered. This was precisely the reason she had been so careful these past few weeks, why she had worked so hard to find so many excuses to decline his invitations. She had known it would be like this: dangerous and unpredictable and very high risk.

And also incredibly exhilarating and intoxicating.

He must have felt her body's response because he shifted again, pressing closer still until she could feel him, hard and muscled, along the full length of her own much softer frame. The contrast thrilled her senses. The mysteries of yin and yang in action.

There was no room to move now inside the cage he had made for her. He had enclosed her in a seductive snare she had no desire to escape.

An urgent, drawing sensation traveled up the insides of her legs and pooled in her lower body. She dropped the dishtowel and clutched at the counter edge for support. Her head tipped back against his shoulder. She savored the strength and power in him and told herself that she would not give in to the almost overwhelming urge to purr.

“I don't think we're going to need that flashlight for a while,” he whispered. “We can do this in the dark.”

He let go of the counter and put his hands on her at last. His fingers closed around her, spinning her toward him. He pulled her fiercely into his arms. His mouth closed over hers with the inevitability of the steel door of a bank vault slamming shut.

The wild chaos of the storm outside was suddenly swirling here in her tiny kitchen. One glorious rush after another swept through her, leaving her trembling with need and anticipation. She wanted him, she thought. She needed this night with Nick. She owed this to herself.

She almost laughed aloud. Was she good at rationalizing, or what?

“Going to let me in on the joke?” he asked into her hair.

“Trust me, this is no joke.”

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him with all of the searing, pent-up hunger and desire that had been making her so restless these past few weeks.

He picked her up and carried her into the living room. The glowing embers of the fire cast an enchanted golden light on the scene. Her head spun a little and her feet left the earth. The next thing she knew, she was lying flat on her back on the rug in front of the hearth.

He followed her down onto the floor, sprawling across her, anchoring her beneath him with one heavy leg flung across hers, his weight pushing her into the thick wool. She pushed her hands up under his pullover until she touched bare skin.

He undid the long row of buttons that closed her white linen blouse and then he unfastened the next set, the ones that sealed her long, white skirt.

“This is like opening a birthday present,” he said when he reached her waist. “I've got this nearly overpowering urge to just rip into it.”

“I know just how you feel,” she said, struggling to free him of his sweater.

He laughed a little and sat up briefly beside her. Crossing his arms at his waist, he grasped the hem of the garment and hauled it off over his head in a single fluid movement.

“Much better.” She smiled appreciatively at the sight of his firelit shoulders. “Much, much better.”

Deeply intrigued by the ripple of skin over muscle, she reached out one hand and threaded her fingers through the crisp hair that covered his chest. He sucked in his breath and groaned.

He went back to work, unfastening buttons one by one until he reached the hem of her skirt.

“Best present I've had in a long, long time.” He put one hand on her bare skin just above the band of her white lace panties. He flexed his fingers gently. “Definitely worth the wait.”

The touch of his big, warm palm on her midsection sent shock waves through her. She stirred, feeling sinuous and incredibly sexy beneath his touch.

He leaned over her to take her mouth again. His fingers moved, sliding up her rib cage to rest just beneath her breasts. By the time the kiss had ended she was no longer wearing her bra.

He moved his lips to one nipple and tugged. She gasped and sank her nails into the contoured muscles of his back.

Time became meaningless. The wild night flowed around them, closing them off from the outside world. She was vaguely aware of the winds raging outside the cottage, but here in this intimate, magical place there was another reality, a world where every move brought new wonders and new discoveries.

When Nick found the tight, throbbing nub that was the epicenter of the small storm taking place inside her, he stroked lightly with fingers he had dampened in her own dew. At the same time he slid two more fingers just inside and probed gently.

Without warning, the gathering energy that had created such a delicious tension exploded. She barely had time to cry out in surprise before she tumbled headlong into a bottomless pool.

When she eventually surfaced, she was breathless and joyous with the pure pleasure of it all.

Nick looked bemused by her reaction. His mouth curved slightly. “You okay?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, indeed, I am very okay.” She drew her fingertips slowly down his chest and belly until she could cup his heavy erection. “Never better. Yourself?”

He grinned slowly, a sexy, anticipatory smile that sent little sparkling shards of excitement through her.

“Going to be okay real soon,” he promised.

He settled heavily between her thighs. In the firelight his face was tight and hard with the effort he was exerting to maintain his control. He used one hand to guide himself carefully into her.

He was larger than she had anticipated. In spite of the unbearable sense of urgency and readiness, she was startled by the tight, full feeling.

“Nick.”

He paused midway.

“Don't you dare stop now.” She grabbed his head in both hands, spearing her fingers into his hair, and lifted herself against him.

He plunged the rest of the way, filling her completely. When they were locked together he levered himself up on his elbows and looked down at her. His expression was one of desire and passion and other forces too strange and wondrous for her to label with words. But she knew the power of those driving, elemental waves of raw energy. She knew them in her heart and soul because they were sweeping through her, too.

Nick began to move, gliding cautiously at first. But when she tightened her legs around his waist, he made a hoarse, husky sound and drove himself into her in a series of fierce, swift thrusts that seemed beyond his control.

She felt the intensity of his climax in every muscle of his body, heard it in his guttural shout of satisfaction.

When he collapsed on top of her she could barely breathe. She stroked his back from shoulder to hip. He was slick with perspiration. He was giving off so much heat you'd have thought that he was in the grip of a raging fever.

All in all, she thought, it was a wonderful way to go.

A cold draft woke her sometime later. She realized it was coming from the front door. Nick was leaving.

The shock of it brought her wide awake. She scrambled to her feet, clutching the chenille throw around herself.

“Nick?”

“Right here.” He closed the door. “I just brought the flashlight in from the car. I'll leave it here on the hall table.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Maybe she'd been a bit hasty in assuming that he was running out on her already.

“No problem.” He glanced at his watch. “It's after midnight. I'd better be going.”

He
was
leaving. Couldn't wait to be on his way. Outrage and pain knifed through her. Well? What had she expected? This was Nick Harte, after all. He wasn't exactly famous for hanging around until breakfast. It wasn't as if she hadn't known exactly what she was getting into when she went into his arms earlier.

But it still hurt far more than it should. This was why she preferred to avoid risks, she thought. There were good, solid reasons for not opening yourself up to this kind of pain.

Nick crossed the small space that separated them and kissed her lightly.

“Carson and I will stop in at the gallery when we come into town to pick up the mail.”

He turned without waiting for a response, slung his jacket over his shoulder, and went back toward the door.

“That would be nice,” she mumbled.

He paused, one hand on the doorknob. “Is there a problem here?”

“Aren't you forgetting something?” she asked evenly.

“Such as?”

“The Talk.”

A terrible stillness came over him.

“You know about The Talk?” he asked carefully.

She was beginning to wish that she had kept her mouth shut. Maybe she would have had the sense to do just that if she hadn't been jolted out of her very pleasant dreams to find him already dressed and headed for the door.

“Everyone knows about The Talk,” she said crossly.

“Is that so?” He sounded irritated. “You shouldn't believe every bit of gossip you hear about me.”

“You mean it's not true about The Talk?”

He opened the door, letting in another gust of wet air. “I've got no intention of discussing the details of my private life at this particular moment.”

“Why not?” Her chin came up. “None of my business?”

“No,” he said grimly. “It isn't. But just so we're clear on this subject, I'd like to point out that we've already had The Talk.”

“Is that so?” she asked in icy accents. “I don't recall it.”

“Then you've got a short-term memory problem, lady.”

“Don't you dare try to wriggle out of this.” She strode forward, clutching the chenille throw to her throat, and came to a halt directly in front of him. She jabbed a fore-finger against his chest. “You did
not
give me The Talk. I wouldn't have forgotten something like that.”

“No,” he agreed coolly. “I didn't deliver it. You did.”

That stopped her cold.

She stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don't you remember?” He moved out onto the shadowy porch. “You made it clear that you're a free spirit and that you'll be leaving at the end of the summer. Sounded to me like you weren't looking for anything other than a short-term affair.”

“Hang on here, I never said anything of the kind. You're putting words in my mouth.”

“Trust me.” He flicked on a little penlight and started down the front steps. “I know The Talk when I hear it.”

She was too dumbfounded to speak for a moment. By the time she had recovered, he was in the car, driving away into the night.