Christmas at the Cove. Rachel Brimble
heart beat fast and her mind whirled. How could she not go? Every nerve in her body screamed for this man; every second that passed felt wasted. She waited for the rush of her returning sanity, but instead, relief swam through her. Relief he’d suggested they leave together first, that this madness was his idea, not hers. Could she do this? Just go with him and to hell with the consequences?
“Do you do this often?” She lifted an eyebrow, going for the breezy rather than the terrified. “Approach women in bars and ask them to leave with you?”
“Never. You’re the first.”
She looked into his eyes and nothing but sincerity shone back. God, she wanted to go with him. Desperately. “You could be an axe-murderer for all I know.”
She said the words, but no part of her was afraid of this man. Instead, she wanted to comfort him, to soothe the deep frustration emanating from him. The look in his eyes wasn’t full of male ego but intense inquiry, mixed with a hint of disbelief that she understood only too well in that moment.
He exhaled. “I could be, but I’m not. I’ll look after you, Carrie. I promise.” He raised his hand. “Scott’s honor.”
Her stomach knotted and laughter bubbled in her throat once more. “Well, in that case...” She smiled, still apprehensive. “I’ll grab my purse.”
For the first time since he’d left his barstool, he smiled. A smile so soft, she sensed his mutual relief. Sensed he was as unsure about what he was doing as she was. On shaking legs, Carrie approached her friends and glanced at each of them in turn, desperate for the words to explain she had to make love to this stranger or regret it for the rest of her life. She wanted him to take her and feel the weight of his body pressed down on hers. She wanted to smell him, touch him and hear him groan.
She focused on Michaela, her best friend and only hope of being understood.
Michaela frowned. “Carrie?”
Carrie smiled, even though nerves and doubt danced in her stomach. “I have to go with him.”
She moved to walk away, but Michaela gripped her wrist. “You don’t know this guy.”
Aware of Scott watching, Carrie pulled back her shoulders. “But I will.”
“Carrie—”
“I have to do this.” She eased her arm from her friend’s grip. “I’ll call you. If you don’t hear from me in a couple of hours, call the police.” She winked and pushed away the seriousness of the implication.
“That’s not funny.” Michaela glanced toward Scott before facing Carrie again. “If you want to go, I can’t stop you, but for God’s sake, call me later so I know you’re okay.”
Carrie smiled even as unease rippled through her. Michaela’s concern was justified. Wouldn’t she have been saying the same things to her friend if the roles were reversed? She squeezed Michaela’s hand. “I will. I promise.”
After a final worried look in Scott’s direction, Michaela smiled and raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. Then get out of here.”
Grinning, Carrie faced Scott. “Ready?”
He nodded. Her heart stuttered, but still Carrie slipped her hand into his and led him from the bar.
* * *
HER SKIN WAS like smoldering silk beneath his hands. Scott relished his exploration over her back and along the bumps of her spine and ribs as she lay facedown on the hotel bed. Her body delicately quivered and a soft mew whispered from her lips. He burned it all into his memory because there was every chance this would be their single time together. An event never to be repeated.
The tension in her shoulders when he smoothed his fingers across them and the way her toes remained curled against the mattress spoke of a woman doing something alien to her. The thought he’d never see her again sent panic ricocheting through him, but he had no right to expect more. He’d approached her. He was the one who’d been pulled from his barstool as though hypnotized.
He was no angel. He enjoyed the chase and the conquer. This was neither. He was hers for the taking. The feeling was unwanted...and scary as hell. For the first time in his life, it was important he found a way for a woman to entirely trust him...to understand he’d take care of her. That he wouldn’t walk away from her as he had others.
A crack of summer lightning lit the peach-and-cream hotel room and she stiffened beneath his fingers. He smiled. “Shh.”
Her body relaxed into the mattress. The drapes lifted as the wind gathered ferocity and washed into the room through the open window. When the sun had burned hot that afternoon, he wouldn’t have believed they’d need to seek shelter from this seemingly impenetrable storm. He swallowed. How could he have imagined any of this?
He didn’t pick women up in bars and sleep with them. He dated them, romanced them and ensured they had a good time whenever they were with him. He didn’t understand nor need the unspoken seriousness of his reaction to Carrie. She mattered. Something in her eyes spoke to his heart. It was as though he already knew her...and she possessed the power to change his life in the blink of an eye. He laughed, joked, played pool and hung with the boys. He didn’t fall in love.
He’d been struck; caught in her invisible snare.
Yet despite the emotional risks to his heart, he didn’t leave her bed. He didn’t gather his discarded clothes and escape the room in a bid to salvage what was left of his sanity. He continued to touch her. Adore every damn inch of her.
She’d shaken her long, blond hair from its clip the moment they stepped inside, her brown eyes boring into his, dark with desire. Carrie. The urge to say her name over and over rose to his tongue and he swallowed it down. He wanted to know where she came from...and, more important, would she stay with him.
But he wouldn’t push her. Her need to be in control permeated the room. If he didn’t let her lead this moment, it could be over before it began and he couldn’t allow that to happen.
He sensed her tension, her confusion and it was equally as potent as his. His heart hammered and his cock hardened as he smoothed his hand lower over the dimples at the base of her spine to the soft curve of her ass. She stretched beneath his touch, languishing like a panther against the stroke of his fingers. Scott clenched his jaw. He sensed one wrong move on his part and the spell would be broken.
But for now she was his.
Something had gripped them both, and its claws dug deep. Her hair was thick and long, almost reaching to her waist, her figure the hourglass perfection akin to Marilyn Monroe. Unbelievable curves in all the right places. She had the sexiest body he’d ever had the honor to touch. He didn’t need to question if doing something like this, with him, was in any way the norm for her. Her insecurity showed over and over in the flashes of doubt that whipped across her gaze, before she blinked and they were replaced with determination.
He didn’t dare question her reasoning for fear he wouldn’t like the answer. The moment he laid eyes on her, fate had reached in and gripped his damn heart.
She turned over and his gaze dropped to her full, creamy white breasts. He smoothed his thumb across one pink nipple and then the other. They instantly hardened. He smiled softly and met her huge eyes in the semidarkness. They were wide with wonderment, yet confident and sexy as hell.
“I want to make love with you.” She reached up and smoothed the fallen hair from his brow. “Then you leave. Can you do that?”
No. I can’t leave. I can’t not look at you or touch you again. He looked deep into her eyes, desperate to understand her. “Why?”
“It has to be this way. I have things I want, things I need to do. I can’t give or promise you anything.” She closed her eyes. “I need to hear you’re okay with that. Otherwise this stops now.”
What the hell was going on here? It was usually he who laid the ground rules so a woman