Velvet, Leather & Lace Read online

  Jamie rolled, trying to reverse their positions. The move brought a stab of pain—and sank them lower. They weren’t going to make it to the surface unless he could break her grip, but she had him in some kind of headlock.

  He kicked hard and pulled her under, turning her into his arms. His only goal was to get her the hell out of there, but she didn’t seem to want to go with him. She tussled with him, and they rolled and writhed like two underwater lovers. Their arms and legs got entangled. Their bodies bumped in the most intimate ways.

  Her breasts were all over him. Buoyed by the water, they bobbed and shivered like pale moons in the darkness. They brushed up against his chest. They caressed his arms and his face. They did everything but call out to him “Fondle me!” He’d never seen anything so erotic as this woman’s body. It amazed him that she could arouse him at a time like this, when his entire being was riveted on getting her to safety.

  As he pinned her to his side and swam for the surface, he realized that she had on nothing but panties. Skimpy black panties. Otherwise, she was naked in his arms, and that awareness nearly sapped his strength. He could feel himself surrendering to the mindless pleasure of her nakedness, and his body responded. Inside him a depth charge had been detonated, and it was heading due south.

  He held her close as they burst through the water. She gasped for air, spluttering and cursing. “You could’ve drowned me!”

  “You could’ve drowned us both,” he said as he swam with her toward the ladder. “Now relax. I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go.”

  She was quiet only for a moment. “I thought you were having a heart attack,” she accused.

  “I did, too, but the pain is gone.”

  “It was a cramp, silly. Not your heart.”

  “Shh,” he told her, “save your strength.”

  Ignoring him, she continued to speak, even as he helped her out of the pool. He went up the ladder first and then guided her, lifting her into his arms as she climbed. He was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t have to give her mouth-to-mouth. Anyone who could talk that much wasn’t having any trouble breathing.

  “Let me help you to a chair,” he said, sheltering her with his body.

  “I can do it.” She refused his help, but the minute he stepped away from her, she was exposed.

  And to his everlasting shame, he took full advantage of it. He didn’t get her a towel the way a gentleman would have. He just gazed at her, silently shaking his head and totally knocked out by what a vision she was.

  He took another step back and said softly, “My God, Lorna, you’re beautiful.”

  She made an attempt to cover herself, but as she met his gaze, there was an almost audible click between them. Her hands dropped to her sides. “No, I’m not. I’m too—”

  “You’re not too anything, except beautiful.” He cleared the fire from his throat, which seemed to be one of the hazards of being anywhere near her. Fire. She was the source of his glorious turmoil, and he would have sworn that she wasn’t unaware of it. She seemed suspiciously fascinated by his struggle.

  He couldn’t stop himself. Just as he’d had to gaze at her and tell her how beautiful he was, he now had to move. He had to walk to her, touch her.

  She made no attempt to stop him as he stroked her cheek and moved close to whisper how desirable she was. She even let him kiss her lightly on the mouth. But she gasped with surprise when he bent to her breast. He dragged his lips over the areola, nuzzling her, and then he drew the nipple into his mouth, giving it a sensual tug.

  Her moan of appreciation made him instantly hard. It hit a switch and sent a bolt of current through him. His swim trunks had been loose a moment ago. Now, a pounding erection had taken up the slack. Oh, that ache. It was so wild and sweet.

  Her fingers combed into his damp hair. “Not again,” she whispered. “We’re not going to do this again, are we?”

  Her voice was choked with sweet despair. She was pleading for reason, for deliverance, but she wasn’t going to get it. And neither was he. No relief in sight from this insanity. She was crazy with desire, crazy in heat, just as he was.

  “How can we not?” He left her breast to sprinkle kisses all over her face. Her naked flesh made him ache, but the bewilderment in her expression called to him like a siren from the rocks. He understood the fear brightening her eyes. Her heart was pounding out of control. The beats radiated through him, inciting his own heart. This was crazy, contagious. People got hurt when they gave in to these impulses.

  But how could they not?

  He slowed it down. The plan was to let her vital signs return to normal, but she looked up at him instantly, and their gazes connected with irresistible force. The silence deepened. The only sound that could be heard was the soft rush of the canal waters. He brushed her lips with the back of his thumb and stroked her cheek.

  “I was wondering if you were ever going to kiss me,” she said.

  “I’ve been doing nothing but kiss you,” he protested.

  “My mouth.” She tipped her chin, offering soft, full lips.

  Another jolt to the groin. She killed him, this woman. She knew right where it hurt, and she went there. Didn’t spare him a thought. He breathed a warm kiss to each of her eyebrows and lashes, to her cheeks and chin. Little kisses everywhere but her waiting mouth. He wondered if she understood the trap that she was baiting for both of them.

  “You taste like the county fair,” he said, “like cotton candy and ice cream bars with sprinkles.”

  His diversion seemed to work because she almost smiled. “Then you must be one of those frozen bananas.”

  “Pretty well thawed by now, young lady.”

  “Really?” She bumped her pelvis up against his erection, and her eyes widened at the size of him. His eyes got narrow, he was sure. She was playing with fire. Did she know that? He’d obviously emboldened her by slowing things down, but she was still naked, and he was still painfully aroused.

  “I did love those bananas,” she said.

  “I’d be happy to share.”

  He must have sounded sarcastic, but he longed to drag her into his arms and crush the breath out of her. Just holding her would release some of this maddening pressure. Instead, he stepped back.

  She made a little sound of discontent, but didn’t attempt to hide herself from him this time. She seemed to be offering up every gorgeous, shivery inch for his inspection. A fertility goddess. Moonlit. Moonstruck? He should be so lucky. It pleased him that he wasn’t twitching and salivating like a wolf that had spotted its prey.

  She touched her breasts, just a pinky finger drifting along the swollen outside curve. Her exploration was slow and curious, as if she was trying to understand something.

  “Is it my breasts that make you hot?” she asked.

  The words weren’t out of her sweet mouth before he felt another surge of heat to his shaft. He was a bull on a chain. Worse, she was still touching herself. Against his will, he watched her fingers glide over her own nipple and tickle it to hardness. They were hesitant, exploratory. Was she trying to stimulate herself? It was certainly working on him.

  He called her on her question. “You seem pretty sure that I’m hot—and you’re the reason why.”

  “Well, yes, unless you’re selling tents these days. Look at you.”

  He gave it his best innocent-bystander shrug. “It’s these shorts I’m wearing. They bunch up.”

  “These shorts?” She reached down and stroked him through the cotton. “The ones made of tent material?”

  The urgency of her touch hit him like a hammer. It didn’t matter that she was slow and languid in everything she did. His heart was a rocket. It took off at the speed of light, and so did his imagination.

  “Does this make you hot, too?” She asked the question with a straight face, but she was playing dirty. Her fingers slid down his engorged shaft to his sacs, and she sidled close enough to cup them in her hand. “How about this?”

  Her firm g
rasp took his breath away. “I think we’re done taking my temperature.” He gripped her wrist and held her away from him. He intended to be gentle, but he needed distance. Her, at arm’s length. His control was as thin as thread, and another touch would snap it.

  However, he wasn’t done with Nurse Sutton. She might be a goddess, according to the notes in his black book, but he wasn’t a god. He was all too human and prey to the sins of the flesh.

  “How did it feel when you touched yourself?” he asked her.

  She didn’t seem to know how to answer. “Wonderful,” she got out.

  “Wonderful, like this?” He brushed his mouth to the delicate outer curve of her breast, where she’d caressed herself. She shuddered with pleasure, and he ached to give her more. But he held off, waiting for her to come to him. He enjoyed the temporary reversal of power. It was good to have her on the ropes, breathing hard. And he loved every second of this wickedness she elicited in him. Or maybe he’d elicited it in her. He didn’t know anymore. It was all good.

  “Not fair,” she whispered. “Exquisite, but not fair.”

  “All’s fair.” He teased her with his tongue, flicking it gently.

  “Oh, Lord, don’t make me do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Come apart right here in your arms. Don’t make me do something crazy like that.”

  She arched her spine, filling his mouth with her soft flesh. His reaction was instinctive. He clamped down on her nipple and sucked. His hands found the heat of her buttocks and everything inside him tightened with pleasure. He gave her breast another deep pull.

  “Don’t make me…come…apart…”

  Little guttural sounds swam in her throat, and she began to undulate. He moved to the breast he hadn’t kissed, which set off a chain reaction of sighs, every one of which thrilled him. She thrilled him, the crazy woman. She tossed her head, moaning and thrusting. And all at once, she emitted a harsh little cry that sounded as if she were on the brink of the orgasm she didn’t want.

  “Jamie,” she gasped, “I think you should stop. No, wait, don’t!”

  Don’t stop. That was what he heard.

  He dropped to one knee and breathed a kiss of tribute to the mound between her thighs. As his hot breath penetrated her black silk panties, she sighed and squirmed against him. It was one of the sexiest caresses his mouth had ever known. Lord, how he wanted to slide his fingers inside those panties and stroke her to completion. If she was going to heaven, he wanted to make sure she got there and back.

  Her whimper sent blood pounding through the chambers of his heart, his loins. He could hardly tell one sensation from another anymore as he seduced her through the silk, tracing her soft curves and watching her quiver. When he delved inside, she was already wet. Drenched in sweetness.

  He pulled aside the black triangle to admire her blazing red curls. She looked like a birthday ribbon, all satin loops and ruffles. And beneath the bow was a gift, a secret portal containing drops of ambrosia that could intoxicate a man and nearly kill him with pleasure. A gift, waiting to be opened.

  His tongue found the nectar. And she found some kind of nirvana in every wet, delicate stroke. He could hear it in her throaty cries.

  “This is wrong,” she whispered. “It’s just wrong.”

  “It must be,” he said. “Anything this incredible has to be wrong.”

  He glanced up at her anguished expression—and at the same time caught the rich scent of her female excitement—fiery body heat and sweet juices flooded out of her, the perfume of a goddess.

  “You’re wet,” he told her, “gushing.”

  “Don’t rub it in.” She looked almost angry as she sank her hands into his hair and drew him back to her. “Oh, dammit, do. Do rub it in.”

  He gathered her to him, his fingers luxuriating in her beautiful bottom. But the instant he sought out her secrets, she went rigid. Her hands curled into his hair, forming fists, and he wondered what could be happening to make her legs quake so violently.

  “Lorna, are you all right?”

  WAS SHE ALL RIGHT?

  No. Lorna most definitely was not. She was about to collapse. Her body was building to a crescendo beyond anything she’d experienced, and her legs shook uncontrollably. They didn’t want to hold her another minute, but at the same time, she was frozen, fed by the soaring pleasure he gave her. She’d locked her hands in his hair because she was disintegrating, and she had nothing else to hold on to, but his every caress sent a shock wave through her. A sweet shock wave.

  “Jamie!” She tried to step back and lost her balance, falling against him as he rose. Maybe he planned it this way?

  He whisked her up in his arms, whispering in her ear. “You taste like bliss,” he told her, “and I need to know how bliss feels. I need to be inside you.”

  She knew what was going to happen, and she didn’t have the strength to defend against it. Her body had not finished what it started, and it was crying out for him. They would do it in the chaise lounge, in the bushes, maybe in the pool itself. Once it began, it would never stop. There was no holding back this tidal wave they’d created.

  One realization hit her after another. Jamie Baird touched needs in her that no other man ever had, and as much as that thrilled her, it wasn’t why she was here. She was supposed to be teaching him a lesson about women, and this was no way to go about it. If she made love with him now, he might even think that women were fatally attracted to rogues, and they weren’t. She wasn’t.

  Her last awareness was a revelation about him. He wasn’t turned off by her size, not the least little bit. But if that wasn’t the reason he’d backed away all those months ago, then what was?

  Hunger fired his kisses and burned through his low growls of desire. The sounds were harsh and thrilling, and she hoped they meant that he was as desperate as she was. He had better not be getting off scot-free when she was suffering this agony of ecstasies. He had better not be getting off at all. If she had any willpower, she would end this craziness, tell him never to touch her breasts again—and mean it. Call it sexual aversion therapy, which was just about what Jamie Baird deserved.

  But then again, if she did have sex with him, he wouldn’t be able to run out on her this time. She was his houseguest, and he needed her for the interview. That might be even more painful for an intimacy phobic like him. Watching him panic the next morning over pancakes and eggs, and knowing it wasn’t about her inadequacies, would be sweet justice. Squirm, you gorgeous weasel.

  If only it didn’t require that they have mad, passionate, out-of-control sex first. Her body began to quiver at the thought and she could feel the tremors all the way through to her spine. She couldn’t do it.

  “Put me down,” she said. “Please, just put me down.”

  He searched her face. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, yes!”

  He made a valiant attempt to do as she asked, but there was something in the way, Lorna realized. His erection. It was like a safety net, stopping all things from falling. There was no way not to come into contact with it, no matter which way he turned her body, or twisted his.

  “Sorry,” he said, rocking her forward.

  Lorna had begun to wonder if he was purposely rubbing her bottom against the damn thing to arouse her—because it was working. She was melting inside and out, turning to steam everywhere his hardness touched her. Each little slide and bump weakened her will, and she knew in her heart that nothing could save her. She clenched her legs, but he felt like a branding iron against the back of her thighs, and by the time he’d penetrated the barrier, she’d already lost the battle.

  Desire lit her up like a flare. She gasped softly, and suddenly nothing else mattered. Who cared about teaching him lessons? She wanted this man. In the chaise lounge, on the terrace, in the pool, wherever.

  When her feet touched the ground, she fell into his arms and kissed him so passionately they both lost their balance. He grabbed her, but they were already tumbling ba
ckward, and nothing could stop them, not even his massive efforts.

  Lorna’s foot came down on the edge of the pool—and then there was nothing. She dangled in thin air for a millisecond, clinging to Jamie before she tipped over backward—and took him with her. They both plunged into the water, and a part of Lorna went into shock, unable to grasp what was happening. She was still clinging to Jamie, still crazy to make love with him and lose herself in that ecstasy. She didn’t want to let go. She wouldn’t.

  But another part of her had been shocked awake. The reasoning part of her was already whispering, warning her of the danger she had narrowly averted. That part of her was talking common sense. It was reminding her that she was not as strong and self-contained as she might have thought, not as resolved—and it was telling her to be grateful for accidents.

  As she and Jamie spiraled into the cool black depths, Lorna realized that it might be the only way to put out the flames that neither of them could extinguish. She’d already been in this pool tonight, and that dip had nearly drowned her. Maybe this dip would save her.

  Grateful? Yes, maybe she was. And very wet. But at least this drenching might bring her to her senses. She’d written off as a fluke that one crazy night with him, but she’d been wrong. He was a challenge beyond her wildest imaginings, a challenge to everything she knew and understood, mostly about herself, and she would need every bit of help she could get to deal with him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NOON? LORNA COULDN’T believe it. That’s what the clock radio said, and the sun flooding through the French doors was so bright she had to peek at the digital display through her fingers. Had she really slept that late? Half the day was gone.

  She threw off the black satin sheets that still smelled hauntingly of mint and pine forests, and sat up, wondering why Jamie hadn’t awakened her. He might be sleeping, too. They’d had quite a night. The swimming pool had doused the flames, but it didn’t get the embers. Her mind had burned most of the rest of the night away—and she imagined that his had, too.