The Red Diary (17 page)

''You didn't use one the last time."

"I know, I forgot-wasn't prepared. Wasn't really expecting things to happen that fast."

As he ripped into it, she grabbed his wrist. "Don't." He met her gaze. "What?"

She felt desperate and needy and wild, and she wasn't about to stop and analyze it now. "I ... I've only been with a few guys, and I know I'm all right. And I'm on the pill. Have you ... have you ... ?"

"I've always been careful," he said. And she believed him.

"'Then don't," she pleaded. "I want to feel you, like the last time. I want to feel it when you come in me."

He released a sharp breath as he let the condom fall from his fingers. She was pleased to have shocked him and wanted to shock him further. "Now," she said, parting her legs wide.

He lowered his gaze there, and she clenched her teeth in frustration, wanting him inside her, but she also liked the heat in his eyes, so she didn't rush him again.

"You're incredible," he whispered in her ear as he pushed into her moist flesh.

"Oh, yes," she moaned at the perfect intrusion.

He thrust with hard, even strokes, and she met each with a tiny groan.

Nick loosed one hand from her bottom to reach inside her bikini top, freeing her breasts from the stretchy halter, and she pushed up his white, paint-speckled shirt so her chest would rub against his. She wrapped her arms around his wide back, savoring the feel of him, the smell of his skin, and they worked together in a smooth, unbroken rhythm for a long while, the only sound that of their breathing.

The hot friction soon built inside her, and she knew soon it would happen again, that sweet release would crash down over her like a tidal wave, covering her, drowning her, for a few, long, glorious seconds. And then she was crying, "Nick, I'm coming," and he was whispering, "Ab, yeah, baby," as she clung to him like he was a life preserver and she adrift at sea. When the waves had finally passed and the world began to seem normal again, she quickly realized it really wasn't, because Nick was still inside her, still pumping into her, each powerful stroke reverberating through her. "Come," she whispered without even considering her words. "Come in me."

"Pull me into you," he breathed hot near her ear.

"Hard."

She lowered her hands to his butt, wishing he wasn't wearing pants, wishing she could feel his bare flesh in her hands, and she pulled him against her as hard and deep as she could, then heard him moan and knew he was emptying. She stayed motionless in order to feel the small. warm bursts inside her.

He went still, too, and his arms closed around her, and they stayed that way for a long minute that she wanted to cling to, grab on to somehow, keep from ending. Just like the last time they'd reached this part. His heart beat against her breast. But then, just like the last time, he drew back, not looking at her as he pulled down his shirt and zipped up his pants. Her heart went hollow watching, seeing how quickly she'd fallen from the center of his attention. She felt even worse than she had the other night-this time she'd known how things would end, and she'd let it happen anyway.

And as he took a step toward the door, a jolting idea struck her. "Is that what this is about?"

He stopped, looked back. "What?"

"You being who you are, our fathers being who they are." The possibility had just hit her. "Is that why this is happening?" Nick made sure he never let his expression change, then shrugged. "Don't be so dramatic, Princess. We aren't exactly Romeo and Juliet."

"My point precisely." She pulled her bikini top back into place, then reached down for her shorts. "Are you just here to use me, Nick?"

Shit, he thought. He shouldn't have told her who he was. He felt transparent. ''No,'' he said, wondering if it were a lie or the truth. "That's not the kind of guy I am."

"What kind of guy are you?" she asked, zipping her shorts, then peering accusingly into his eyes. She looked beautiful, evená with anger shimmering in her gaze. And he had a fleeting urge to go back to her, take her in his arms-more than a fleeting urge-but he had to ignore it. It hadn't been easy to pull away, but she was Henry Ash's daughter. He'd done pretty well his whole life not caring for anyone particular woman, not getting bogged down in relationships, and this was definitely the last woman he could truly start caring about. She'd made him want to matter to her, and God knew there were complicated feelings for her swirling around the back of his head, but he still didn't believe anything real could ever be between two people from such different worlds.

"Look, I knew who you were when Sadie called me with this job, but I'm here to make money, that's it. The fact that you and I are hot for each other has nothing to do with that. I know you told me on the beach you're not into casual sex, but ... I'm afraid it's all I can give you."

She looked away from him, toward the wall, and he feared she might cry. Something in his heart twisted miserably and he turned and walked out, heading for the stairs, so he wouldn't have to know whether or not she did. He was an asshole and he knew it.

As he reached the foot of the stairs, her white cat came trotting up with a meow. "Don't you start with me, too," he muttered. Once back outside, he stopped on the patio and let out a large sigh. Damn, he was shaken up. Being inside her was so ... he didn't even know a word for it, but it was heat and perfection and roughness and ... something sweet, all combined. It would be a good idea to leave. Immediately.

He packed his stuff as quickly as he could, throwing it haphazardly into his van, and trying not to think about how he'd held her afterward, how he really hadn't wanted to pull away. Holding her had been so easy. Carrying her to her bed would have been easy, too. But pulling away had been the only move he knew to make.

As he backed out of her driveway, he looked up at the windows, thinking he might catch some glimpse of her looking out, but he didn't. Pressing his foot to the gas pedal and leaving the princess's mansion behind, he felt lousy, and not just because he'd acted like a jerk almost always acted like a jerk with her-but because deep inside he knew he'd rather be back there with her than driving home alone.

Chapter Ten

Nick went through the closet in the spare bedroom. looking for shades of blue. He came up with azure cloud, aqua ice, Jamaica blue, Havana lake, cornflower, and summer night. It was hours until sunset, and the natural light cascading through the floor-to-ceiling windows couldn't be matched by anything artificial. Plus the view of the ocean inspired him as he turned toward the blank canvas propped on an old easel.

Elaine had bought the canvases for him as a Christmas gift years ago, back when they were both in high school. Though he'd never used them, it was the kind of thing they'd kept; they never threw anything away that could possibly have a use someday, even if they had no idea what that use might be.

Dipping a brush into the blob of Jamaica blue on his pallet, he started with bold brushstrokes that gave instant life to the white canvas and sent an old, familiar thrill shooting through his veins. And that thrill would have to be enough-he wasn't having sex with Lauren Ash anymore.

He would finish the job at her house, and that was it.

He'd go back to being her house painter and nothing more, just like she'd wanted, and he'd take out his frustrations with the paintbrush and canvas when he came home at night.

He couldn't let himself be close to her any longer, because it made him want to stay close to her. He hadn't liked hurting her today, hadn't liked seeing the pain in her eyes when he walked away, hadn't liked the pain he'd felt himself. But staying had been impossible. Their families' history stood between them and, as before, it had driven him away.

He'd seduced her once to prove his worthiness, and yes-maybe even to hurt her. But twice-well, what happened this afternoon hadn't been planned. It'd just happened in the dim lighting of the little room, the result of all those intimate touches involved in caring for her cut. He'd looked at her in the mirror, and blood had surged to his groin. After that, he hadn't thought. just acted, just done what his body told him and soon got lost in her. I want to feel you. like the last time. I want to feel it when you come in me. Nick stilled his brush as her words washed over him again, his body tingling at the hot memory. But you can't have any more of that. No matter how hot, no matter how nice. Stick to painting, the one thing you're good at. Paint her house, paint the ocean, paint whatever it takes to get her out of your mind.

And that's just what he intended to do. No more fooling around with the Princess of Ash Builders. Somewhere along the way, she'd dulled the edges on his resentment, but nothing real could ever exist between them. Now he just wanted to look the other way, just wanted to go back to the life he'd carved out in spite of Henry Ash and before Lauren Ash. Reaching for another brush, he blended Havana lake with the cerulean strokes already stretching across the white expanse. And he thought of Lauren's ocean fantasy and regretted not kissing her between her thighs when he'd had the chance.

Lauren moved through the next day in a haze. She ran errands-to the bank, the office, the dry cleaners-and worked diligently on a spending analysis due at the end of the month. She kept busy at times when she might normally have slowed down or taken a break, all in a desperate attempt to keep from thinking about what had happened in her bathroom yesterday. Now, as she peeked in the oven to check the small pan of lasagna she'd put in for dinner, she found it hard to keep her mind occupied elsewhere. Or maybe she'd not really succeeded at all. She'd stayed busy, but hadn't Nick and memories of his hands, his body. been flirting around the edges of her head and heart all day anyway?

The intense pleasure during the blissful moments of their coupling had made her forget about the hurt that would come after. And it had come-Lord, had it come. He might have said all he had to give was casual sex, but it hadn't been casual to her. In fact, it had been the most profound sexual gratification she'd ever experienced with a man, and it was making her ... care for him. Need him. Not just for those few minutes, but in her life, in some way that mattered, lasted, counted for something. That sounded insane to her, given how little she really knew him, but that didn't stop the emotions coursing through her.

At least the first time, she'd felt she was the center of his world for a little while. And he'd brought her a rose-the rose-and despite the suddenness of it, and the abrupt way he'd left, there'd been something about it she could call romantic. But yesterday he'd just made her feel like something to be used and tossed aside when he was done. Again she wondered how many women he'd had such fifteen-minute liaisons with on the job. She remembered now that he usually painted new construction. but there were still women around sometimes, weren't there? She suddenly wondered if he'd slept with Karen or Melody, the pretty Ash sales reps who often toured sites with clients during the painting phase. She thought of the countless female real estate brokers who staked out under-construction condos in order to stir up early interest in buyers. "Damn it," she said, stomping her foot on the ceramic tile. What difference did it make who Nick slept with? She knew she was one of many, just a nameless, faceless woman in the crowd.

But no, she couldn't quite believe that. Not when she remembered the way he looked at her. He saw her then, really and truly saw into her soul-she knew it. And there was the rose from her fantasy; how could that be explained? And the replies he'd given her when they'd talked-about the horse, about the ocean-how could she write them off as things that didn't matter? They always lingered in the back of her mind now, adding just a hint of strength to their tenuous connection. She'd even added another fantasy to her sex journal.

It had started as an attempt to write something that had nothing to do with him. something that took place far away in a whole different world. She bit her lip and peered absently out the kitchen window, trying to recall the words she'd used to attempt transporting herself up and out of her situation with Nick.

I swim in a lagoon off a secluded Polynesian island. In shallow water, I approach a lush island bank, lined with large rocks and draped with leafy foliage. Resting my back against the boulders, I close my eyes and relax in the shady hideaway spot. When a butterfly-soft touch skims up my shoulder and onto my neck, I know I should be alarmed, yet I am not-- innately know the touch comes from a man intent on having his way with me, and the isle s isolation has instilled in me a freedom both foreign and welcome.

I peer over my shoulder to find a darkly tanned island boy, who reaches down to untie the top of my bathing suit behind my neck. When the top falls away, baring my breasts, the sun fights down through the trees to warm them. He reaches down from behind to caress them with work-roughened hands as he kisses my neck, the hard and soft of his affections meeting in the middle to create a delectable pleasure.

By the time he dives into the water and comes to the surface, he is flashing a feral expression, again reminding me he will take whatever he pleases, and I am more than willing to give it.

Moving in to where I wait at the rocks, he braces his hands on either side of my shoulders, then bends to suckle first one breast, then the other, with rough urgency. The sun grows hotter, shining more intensely as he draws roughly on my flesh. The deeper he sucks, the more heat blasts down from above.

Below the water, he pulls on the tie at my hip until my bikini bottom falls away as well. and without hesitation, he pushes two fingers up inside me. moving them in and out. in and out. while his mouth pulls on my breast and I stretch out beneath the burning glow of the sun, which matches the heat inside me now.

Without warning, he plunges his arousal between my legs-just as hard as everything else about his lovemaking -but his untamed behavior brings out the animal in me, too, making me groan and purr and yell with each thrust.

Hard, hard, hard, he drives his erection into my welcoming body. I extend my arms, gripping on to the rocks on either side of me for dear life as he delivers his brutal affection. The scorching sun blazes hotter and brighter with each hard stroke until I am lost in both kinds of heat, my eyes shut, my body responding to my island lover. And in the very moment I cease to think, allowing myself only to feel, to experience, a raging climax soars through me. making me cry out, clutch at his shoulders. cling to him, tight, tight-and then he comes, too, his last thrusts just as intense, but slower now, and I know he is feeling each just as completely as I am.