Whose Bed Is It Anyway? (15 page)

Her lips parted, her head thrust back. He licked her again and again. He reached one hand up to her breast, strumming her nipple. The other hand working between her legs moved faster. One finger, two, three. He filled her while sucking and licking and kissing. Until she was rocking her hips like an animal, wildly running her hands through his hair.

She drew a deep, burning breath. Held it. Releasing it harshly as the sensations tumbled through her. Roughened breathing was not screaming. She'd done it.

‘Not bad,' he said matter of factly, as if he were judging a cake contest. ‘But I like it most when you've completely lost control.'

He stood from the bed, roughly removing his clothes as quickly as possible, rolling on a condom he'd pulled from his trouser pocket. And then he pinned her.

His hands gripped hers, pushing them to the mattress, his full weight on her body. His legs pushed hers wider apart as he plunged to the hilt.

She clamped her mouth shut, barely able to hold back the moan. He kissed down her neck, across the vulnerable skin over her throat.

‘I can feel the vibrations of your silent sighs,' he teased.

He shifted position so his pelvic bone ground harder against hers, creating intense friction. Sensations hammered her as he made use of her. She was his to do with as he wished. Whatever he wished so long as it was like this. He was so strong, his sensuality so powerful. Her head thrashed side to side as she tried to hold back. But he escalated his onslaught, surging forward, thrusting fierce and fast.

‘You like it when I'm inside you,' he commented hoarsely.

She'd never felt anything so good in her life.

‘James,' she panted desperately. ‘I'm going to scream.'

He slammed his mouth over hers, muffling the high, keening noise as she came. And in return, she thirstily swallowed his uncontrolled, animal growls.

* * *

James was late to breakfast. He'd peeled himself away from Caitlin's side early in the morning and gone for a long run. Now they were all there at the table—Caitlin as well, looking like butter wouldn't melt. He couldn't help but give her a quick grin. But then he glanced at the food laid out on the table. His post-run warmth chilled instantly. He picked up one of the small, golden breads and glanced at the other pastries. He knew them so well. Could even taste them already.

‘These are Aimee's?' he forced himself to ask, hoping his voice didn't sound as husky to everyone else as it did to him.

The conversation stopped. Even Jack tore his gaze from his phone.

‘Yes,' his mother answered quietly.

‘How is she?' James carefully put down the brioche.

‘She's well. The bakery is doing brilliantly. Your father picked these up from there first thing. She's away at the moment though—Malibu.'

So he wouldn't have to see her—face her this trip. But that didn't change anything. And he didn't want this conversation. He didn't take a seat. ‘I just need to go and—'

He didn't bother trying to think of a reason. He was out of the room already. He'd be able to breathe again in a bit.

* * *

Caitlin sat at the table, unsure of what to do or say.

‘I knew that was a bad way to go about it.' James' mother sighed and left the room through another door—his father following closely.

Caitlin chewed on her one bit of brioche for a really long time. Go about what? Who was Aimee? Why had the mention of her name sent James into such an obvious lockdown—and spiked the tension in the family? Jack was back staring at his phone, only George was apparently still in ‘good host' role—giving her a quick smile and offering her the plate of pastries and starting up a conversation on a completely unrelated topic. He was so damn determinedly cheerful and polite and easy-going that Caitlin knew it was all defence. She'd get nothing out of George. He was loyal.

‘I'm going for a run.' George finally wrapped up his chat effort five minutes later. ‘Why don't you check out the pool?'

‘That sounds a great idea. Thanks.' She smiled at him gratefully.

She walked out onto the deck, thinking she'd check the pool temperature before committing herself. She paused. James was in there, furiously pulling through length after length after length as if he had Jaws on his tail. She walked over to dip in a toe, then bent to sit on the edge, letting her feet dangle in the cool water.

She knew he'd seen her. But he did another three lengths before coming over. Caitlin reached into her pocket and pulled out the small block she had in there. ‘You want some?' She waved it in front of him.

‘
My
chocolate?' He wiped the streaming water from his face. ‘Give.'

Caitlin shook her head and tried not to ogle his gleaming body. ‘Mine. I always keep some on me. It's a great travel tip I learned from this guy once.'

He grinned appreciatively and opened his mouth for her to put the piece in, keeping his wet hands away.

‘You haven't had breakfast,' she said. ‘And you've almost done like a triathlon or something this morning.'

He said nothing, just opened his mouth for another piece. She fed an extra large chunk to him.

‘You can't relax here?' she asked. How the hell could he not relax?

‘I like to stay fit.' He chomped and swallowed.

That wasn't all it was and she
wasn't
afraid to ask. Much. ‘So who's Aimee?' She tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible. ‘An ex-girlfriend or something?'

‘What?' He looked utterly startled. ‘No.' He shook his head, a slight grin appearing for an even slighter second. ‘She was our housekeeper for years.'

‘Oh.' Caitlin frowned. She was so missing something huge. Why would James get so awkward at the mention of their old housekeeper?

He stood waist deep in the water, watching her. A low, reluctant chuckle left his lips. ‘I can see you clamping down on all those questions.'

She shrugged, making light of it. ‘You don't want to talk? I'm not going to make you.'

He reached out and took the last of the chocolate from her fingers. He devoured the last bit in a gulp; she could see the small sustenance having an effect already. His smile was almost back. ‘Thanks,' he said.

Thanks for the chocolate, or for not pushing him? She guessed both.

Of course now her curiosity burned brighter still.

* * *

James spent most of the morning deflecting conversation by engaging both Jack and George in another tennis round. Caitlin hadn't asked more about Aimee or what the connection was with him and his family, but it felt as if she'd withdrawn. She hardly looked at him. Logically he knew it was because she was too busy smiling and charming his family, not because she was bothered about him shutting her out. But even so, prickles pushed under his skin.

He whacked the ball hard and aced Jack. Was he shutting her out? He knew he was shutting his family out. He always had over this. There was nothing anyone could say to make it better or ease his guilt. Not even Aimee could say anything. And she'd tried to in the past—told him it wasn't his fault. That accidents happened. That people made their own choices. None of that made him feel any better. But he damn well refused to dwell and mope and stew. He stayed busy for very good reasons.

He didn't have to tell Caitlin. Didn't have to tell anyone. He'd acknowledged his actions, accepted the ramifications. The responsibility. And he'd moved forward with his life—on a far better course than he'd been before. He couldn't change the past, couldn't forget it, but it was better to make a difference and move forward.

But ironically, Caitlin
not
asking made him want to tell her. He wanted her to understand. He knew that she, of all people, wouldn't tell, certainly wouldn't judge. His lips twisted. Because she already knew he wasn't perfect, right? From the moment she'd met him, she'd had his number.

He was a fake.

TEN

‘Come walk along
the beach with me,' James said to Caitlin. It wasn't really an invitation, more a command. Because suddenly, it seemed vital that she did know it all. Why he'd suddenly morphed into a hyperactive sports freak. Why he couldn't sit still. Why he struggled to say anything particularly personal to his parents. Why he needed his life to stay the way it was.

She didn't hesitate. Didn't even answer. She just stood and followed him.

‘Aimee was our housekeeper. She was married to Pete, our odd-jobs man,' he said roughly, as soon as they were out of earshot of the house. He didn't look at her as he spoke, but he felt her eyes on him.

‘They lived with you?' she asked.

‘They had a cottage at the other boundary. Kind of like the gate house, yeah.' He shrugged his shoulder, wincing at the obvious wealth. ‘Louis was their only child. He was a couple years younger than us, smaller for his age. But we hung out all the time.'

They'd played together. Sometimes he and George had ganged up and played tricks. Other times the team would change and it'd be him and Louis against George and Jack. Looking back now he knew Louis had hero worshipped him a bit. Had been closer to him than the others.

‘We were spoilt. We had everything. We were expected to be able to do everything. But sometimes kids don't make sensible decisions.' He let the waves wash over his feet. ‘I thought I was invincible.'

She walked near him, her feet splashing softly. But she said nothing.

‘We'd gone on a holiday to the Caribbean. A real “holiday” as opposed to serious “travelling”. I was sixteen, living the life with all the toys. Yachts, jet skis...' It had been a playground for the rich and powerful and he'd been such an idiot. ‘I told Louis I could handle it. I made him come out with me. Even though he didn't really want to. But I was filled with it—showing off. All arrogance.' He bent his head. ‘I lost control of the jet ski, we flipped. Pete came out to help us. But he drowned saving the both of us.' James would never forget that horror as long as he lived. ‘Louis lost his father and it was my fault.'

‘What happened to Louis?'

‘He'd lost his father.' James looked down. ‘And he lost his way. Over the next few years it got worse and worse. He went off the rails, right into a fast, dangerous lifestyle.' The bright-eyed kid with the wide smile had become a pale, pimpled wreck of a youth with vapid eyes and the shakes. James' parents had tried. They'd all tried. But no amount of intervention was able to stop that downward spiral. ‘In the end he died of an overdose.'

‘Oh, James.'

‘They said it was accidental.' He pressed his lips together.

James' guilt had grown. He'd gone the opposite way to Louis—pouring himself into his studies. Being perfect. Keeping himself so buried in textbooks and training there was no room for any other mistakes of that kind. He sobered up. Straightened out. Taking nothing for granted again. He'd made little time for fun. Yes he'd done the travel thing—the component required of all Wolves—but he'd done it tougher and with purpose. He'd chosen to study abroad and in his study, his work, he'd found salvation.

But at the end of the day, he'd been the cause of not one, but two people's deaths. Responsible for the devastation of a family. ‘Pete had been a hero. He'd rescued us. I have to make something more of my life. He gave his life up for us. And then seeing Louis fall like that?'

‘Louis might have gone off the rails even if the accident hadn't happened,' Caitlin said quietly. ‘Even if his father had been around, it still might have happened. It happens in other families.'

James frowned. ‘No. You should have seen how it hurt him.' He bent his head. ‘I owe them. And I owe it to myself to make something more of my life.'

‘That's fair enough. I can understand that.' She stopped walking. ‘But not at the cost of your own happiness.'

‘I'm not unhappy,' he denied, looking sharply at her. ‘I love my work.'

‘I know,' she said. ‘But you've cut yourself off from your family.'

‘I haven't.' Only a very little.

‘No?' She grasped his arm when he went to turn away. ‘You have limited interaction with them. With
all
relationships. You only have a woman when you can get it on a “firm boundaries” basis. And then you work. You put yourself at risk for others—for strangers—all of the rest of the time.'

‘I
like
being busy.' He looked into her eyes. ‘I know I made mistakes in the past. I can't ever change what happened. But I accept what I did and I've moved on.' He sighed. ‘The only problem now is that my mother cries when I leave. I think it's easier on her not to visit.'

Caitlin vehemently shook her head. ‘She's your
mother
. That's the way it's going to be. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she saw you
more
often. You can't stop your family loving you. Any more than you can stop loving them.' She stared up at him. ‘Don't deny them the pleasure of having your company. Don't deny yourself. You still deserve to have a nice time, James. It's okay to take a holiday.'

‘You care about me having a nice time?' he asked quietly.

Her alarm bells rang at the searching quality in his eyes. Because she
did
care—too much to be able to admit to herself, let alone to him. So she stepped back, hiding in the tease talk. ‘Yeah, well, I find you perform better in bed when you're in a good mood.'

He burst out laughing. ‘Shoot me down, why don't you, right when I've poured out my soul.'

It was because he
had
poured out his soul that she'd joked again. Because she knew he didn't like feeling vulnerable. And nor did she. Because she knew this thing between them couldn't go any further than it had already. ‘I aim to please.'

‘Actually—' he traced a finger down her jaw ‘—I think you do.' He added, ‘I don't think you're all that bad at all.'

‘Just misunderstood?' she drawled softly, trying to keep up the carelessness of her banter.

‘Yes,' he answered, quite seriously. ‘Misunderstood. Lonely. Lovely.'

She shook her head, tried to turn the conversation back on him. ‘How come this never came up in any of those articles about you?'

‘It was kept quiet.' His lips twisted and he cupped her face with a gentle hand. ‘Ironic, isn't it, that you're accused of all kinds of things in the press that aren't true, while the truth about what an idiot I was has never been reported. It doesn't seem fair.'

‘Life isn't fair.' Caitlin tilted her chin free of his hold. ‘We all know that.'

She turned and walked back along the edge of the water. ‘So where's Aimee now?'

‘She set up her own bakery. She's an amazing cook.'

‘And it's doing well?'

He nodded.

‘Good for her,' Caitlin said softly.

‘Yeah.'

Three hours later Caitlin was still mulling over what he'd told her. They'd spent the afternoon in a mini badminton tournament. She'd never played badminton before and had no idea she was so crap at it. But all the Wolfe boys were brilliant—and gallantly took turns teaming up with her, all still determined to beat their brothers despite having her handicap them. They'd made her laugh. Made her feel welcome.

Made her feel liked.

George flirted with her incessantly, Jack more intermittently. But it was the look in James' eyes that brought the colour to her cheeks. It wasn't lust.

She didn't know what it was.

* * *

‘Come on, Caitlin.' George stood after the dinner plates had been cleared. ‘Jack, James and I will show you some local nightlife.'

‘We will?' Jack glanced up.

Irene laughed. ‘Go on, then.'

‘Um.' Caitlin avoided looking at James. She was sure he wouldn't want to. She sensed the restless energy in him. ‘I really don't—'

‘Yes, you do. Let's go.' James turned a brilliant smile on her.

Now she really wasn't sure this was a good idea. Because that smile had an edge. For all the intimacy they'd had earlier—the part of his history he'd shared—he seemed in a more mercurial mood than ever. More edgy and unsatisfied.

The second they got to the lively bar James left his brothers to order drinks and gripped Caitlin's hand, leading her to the middle of the dance floor and pulling her indecently close.

‘What happened to no PDA?' Caitlin gasped, breathless at the predatory expression in his eye.

‘Hmm?' James answered vaguely, too busy staring at her cleavage.

She tugged at the top of her dress. ‘Stop it. Your thoughts are written all over your face.'

‘They are?' He looked up, his eyes almost black. ‘Read them.'

He still thought he could win a dare with her?

She thought of the most explicit, crudest thing she could. Then found the courage to whisper it aloud in his ear.

His jaw dropped. Then he laughed. ‘Damn, you're a vixen.'

She lifted her brows. ‘You can be as naughty as you like with me. As bad as you get.'

His eyes glinted. ‘That's what you really want?'

‘It always has been.'

He tugged a swathe of her hair, so she tilted her head back. His words brushed over her lips. ‘You act all sexy, demanding siren. But the thing is...' he leaned close ‘...that I know you'd let me do that and more. You might have been provoking, but there's a part of you that wants exactly that. You like it when I can't control myself.'

Well, that was true.

‘A tease must be prepared to take the same,' he warned.

He'd broken her control time and time again already. And he knew it. But now he kept a firm grasp on her hair and kissed her.

‘I thought we were keeping this under wraps,' she squeaked when he lifted his head. Hell, no one would be left in any doubt as to how well they knew each other if they'd seen that kiss.

‘That was until you thought you could say something like that to me out in public. You thought wrong.' He slid his open palm all the way up her stomach, lifting higher to pluck her taut nipple.

‘What are you doing?' She gasped.

‘Turning you on.'

He already knew she was on.

‘Here? Now?' In public?

‘Absolutely. It's your punishment.'

It didn't feel much like a punishment.

In the crowded club, the music thumped. In no way were they the only couple doing the bump and grind. It looked like dancing. It was dancing. Except he was expertly rubbing her just the way he knew she liked to be rubbed. And in less than thirty seconds she was hurtling to the place only he could send her.

She stumbled. His grip tightened.

Heat enveloped her. Her mind a haze. She no longer cared about who could see them. What his family or anyone else would think. She was with James. He was all that mattered. And she was burning up for him. He knew it. She saw the smile and satisfaction in his eyes—the blind, glazed look of escape into physical pleasure. All that did was stoke her higher. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted to give him the relief that he brought her.

‘Take me home,' she begged.

He kissed her. Bending her back so she had to cling to him, pushing her hips right into his, thrusting his hungry tongue deep into her mouth.

His eyes glittered as he lifted his head and looked down at her. ‘Yes.'

James didn't care what Jack or George or anyone thought as he walked out of the club with Caitlin clamped to his side. But Jack, true brother that he was, didn't ask, he just walked with them outside, flagged a cab and held the door open.

‘George and I'll come home later.' He closed it on them.

In the cab, James turned towards Caitlin, needing her kiss more than he needed air. His thoughts went chaotic as she kissed him back. This was crazy. He
knew
this was crazy. But he needed her more than he'd ever needed any woman. He ached to find release in her arms. Since he'd told her about Louis and Pete this morning, the need had burned even more out of control.

He'd seen people thrown together in drastic circumstances, who'd believed they'd forged a relationship so strong nothing could ever break it. But things did. Ordinary life did.

This thing with Caitlin was too soon. Too built on
sex
. It was nothing more than an affair—like a schoolboy crush. His inability to think of anything other than her was symptomatic of that. A fixation that wouldn't stand the test of time. It would fade. He couldn't believe in it, couldn't start to dream of all the things he'd long ago sworn to deny himself.

But there wasn't just lust in her eyes. Not only lascivious hunger. There was tease, yes, but also tenderness. Passion, but also patience. She was generous and gentle.

He held her hand tightly as he walked through the quiet, dark house, taking her to his bedroom. She belonged in his bed.

Her skin glowed, her shoulders creamy and smooth. She bared herself, touching him, offering herself—for him to use her as he wanted. He didn't want to use her. Didn't want to take up the dare she'd made on the dance floor. Because he wanted to touch her too, wanted to see her smile. Wanted to see her happy. More than anything.

He shuddered as she touched him. Closed his eyes against the overwhelming burst of emotion that flared within him.
Damn it
.

For an instant he tried to deny it. He didn't want the intensity that was beginning to override their time together. He just wanted sex, right? The fun, meaningless kind. He sought nothing but satisfaction. Not any kind of connection, none of this ‘opening up'. They weren't sharing on that level. He'd been wrong to tell her about Louis.

He kept his eyes closed, so she was only curves and heat and softness. But there was no denying it was Caitlin. Caitlin's sighs, Caitlin arching against him. Welcoming him. Accepting him. Holding nothing back from him—offering it all. And he couldn't resist taking it.