He tried to let her stay as the lead on their kiss, but he wanted her too much to follow through with that plan. Seconds later, he had his hands threaded through her hair so that he could tilt her head back and move his mouth from hers to the hollow beneath her chin.
"Listen," she said softly. He was so lost in the deliciously decadent task of learning the taste of her skin, it took him a few seconds to realize what she was saying. "The thumping stopped. I think our kissing is making the ghost happy."
He wasn't a man who kissed and laughed at the same time. But he couldn't contain it as he said, "Forget about the ghost. Kissing you makes me happy."
"I like making you happy," she said, before proving it with another sweet kiss.
But although he wanted nothing more than to pick her up and carry her into her bedroom, her words hit way too close to home. "I want you to be happy too. And maybe here, tonight, we can make each other happy. But not in the long run." Because he could never make the mistake of trusting anyone completely. Not even her.
She stroked her fingers down from his face to his shoulders and chest as though she couldn't resist touching him now that she finally had the chance. Through his T-shirt and jeans, he could feel the heat of her. He wanted to feel so much more, wanted to get so much closer, with nothing between them, but he couldn't let it happen with a lie. With deception.
He could practically see her mind working as her brows moved together and her eyes focused on an imaginary point. For all that it seemed she was just blurting things out all the time, she could be extremely thoughtful. She simply hated to hide the truth of her feelings from people. He'd never known anyone like her.
At last, she said, "It keeps occurring to me that a smart woman would be playing games to try to keep your interest. But I've never had the heart for games."
"I don't either," he agreed. "But I'm worried about you getting hurt. And I would hate myself for causing your tears."
"Aren't you worried about yourself too?"
Though they'd agreed to tell each other the truth, he tried to be gentle as he said, "I'm not the one looking for someone to love me."
"Are you sure about that?"
Her whispered question made his chest clench. Clench so tightly, in fact, that he couldn't stop himself from pushing back just as hard as she was pushing him. "You were right in the parking lot. We aren't going to end up like one of those fairy tales. You're beautiful, and I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone, but your love isn't going to make me a new man."
Now she'd have to back down. Give up. She'd tell him to go. And even though it was the last thing he wanted, he'd make himself leave.
But she remained in his arms as she said, "You don't need to become a new man, Liam."
It killed him to have to hurt her feelings now so that he wouldn't crush them later. "Maybe not, but your love isn't going to turn the Kanes into one big, happy family either."
He watched for a flinch. Was certain that this time she would.
Instead, her eyes flashed with determination--and something that looked, strangely, like humor. "And here I was thinking that sleeping with you tonight would do just that."
"Christie." Her name was a warning on his lips. He was trying to be careful with her, and she was bound and determined to foil him at every turn. Didn't she know that just the words sleeping with you were the proverbial straw that was going to break his vow to do right by her?
"Liam." She mimicked his warning tone well. "I know what you want me to say. That I'm going into tonight with my eyes wide open. That making love with you won't change anything. That I won't hold you to more than a few sinful hours between the sheets when morning comes. But I just don't have it in me to tell you the dozen different lies that I know you want to hear."
"I don't want you ever to lie to me," he insisted.
"Good, because here's the unvarnished truth: I can't promise you I'm not going to get hurt. And I definitely can't promise you I'm not going to fall head over heels in love with you, even if you never let yourself love me back. But I am absolutely certain that I want to make love with you tonight. Please, Liam, stay with me."
No other woman had ever talked to him like this. No one had ever had the courage to be so honest with her emotions. So up front about the mistakes she might make.
On a groan, he captured her mouth with his and lifted her into his arms. Seconds later, she was lying on her bed beneath him. He didn't ask for her pleasure, he stole it. But he knew that she was stealing just as much from him as she slicked her tongue over his.
Only, they weren't taking anything from each other tonight--they were giving each other exactly what they needed. Not just pleasure, not just the chance to let wild take free rein...but one perfect night to spin their attraction into something so much bigger than merely pleasure.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
No one had ever kissed her like this, with such desire, with such heat, with so much need. And she needed him just as badly.
He was hard everywhere she was soft, and the things he knew how to do with his mouth to hers--my God. She could kiss him all night long and still not know how he did it. How he made every part of her come alive with nothing more than the brush of his lips over hers. How every cell in her body heated with need as he tangled his tongue with hers. How the nip of his teeth there, and then there, and then--oh yes--there, made her nearly shatter into a million breathless pieces.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him to take anything--everything--he wanted from her. But instead of answering her body's plea, he lifted himself up on his forearms to stare down at her.
"You're so beautiful."
"Thank you."
"Thank you?" He ran his fingertip gently along her hairline. Little tingles met his touch, and she almost whimpered at the pleasure of it. "I don't think you understand quite what I'm saying." His eyes were just as dark, just as unfathomable as ever. But his tone was richer, filled with a depth of emotion he'd never let her hear before.
"I do." Her voice sounded breathless. "You think I'm pretty."
His smile was tinged with heat. "You're so much more than pretty, Christie." He pressed a kiss to the spot on her forehead that he'd been lightly caressing. "Gorgeous. Stunning. Perfect. None of those words do you justice."
She'd expected heat, pleasure. She cared enough for Liam to find emotion in their kisses and caresses. But she hadn't thought there'd be such heartfelt words from a man who was so cautious with them.
He kissed her then, a kiss that echoed his words. A kiss that made her believe what he was saying was real.
"Something happens when you kiss me," she admitted. "I feel beautiful."
"Never doubt that you are, not for one single second."
She felt as though he was seeing all the way into her soul, into the hidden part where she'd tried to ignore the hurt from every man who had rejected her for not being exciting enough. For not being a risk taker, or knowing how to say the right thing at the right time. Even with Wesley--especially with Wesley--she'd lost sight of herself as a sensual woman.
One kiss at a time, Liam was giving that feminine power back to her.
She still had her robe on, and she wanted nothing more than to be naked beneath Liam, his powerful body pressing hers into the mattress. She reached for the sash, but before she could untie it, his hands were over hers, stopping her.
"Undressing you for the first time is a pleasure I don't want to miss."
She actually whimpered at the sensuality of his words. "Okay. But could you hurry?"
That smile she loved to see so much played around his mouth. "No."
She groaned with disappointment even as her body heated up with increased anticipation. "Pretty please?"
"So sweet." She watched his long, strong fingers slowly untie her sash. "And usually so good at getting what you want with that sweetness."
She was about to protest the usually when his fingertips grazed the bare skin of her belly. Words fled as
she sucked in a breath, her muscles trembling beneath his touch.
"Such lovely skin." He shifted on the bed so that he could press a kiss to that bare patch. "And so beautifully sensitive."
Another kiss followed the first, but before she could thread her hands into his hair, he was moving away again, taking the lapels of her robe and sliding it off her shoulders.
With every inch of skin he uncovered, there was another kiss. Places that had never been sensitive before responded to his slightest touch, to the brush of his lips followed by his fingertips grazing the new spot he'd marked. Until finally, he slid the robe all the way off her arms.
He'd seen her in fairly skimpy pajamas before, but though there'd been attraction between them a week ago, it hadn't been this red hot. And neither of them had had any intention of acting on it. But oh, were they ever acting on it now as Liam slowly ran his fingertips down over the straps of her top.
"Just take it off, already!"
"All this time, I thought you were so patient," he said, a heated chuckle underlying his words.
"In case you didn't hear me earlier," she said in a far more petulant tone than she could believe was coming out of her mouth, "I said I want you." She waited until his gaze met hers. "Really, really, really want."
That won her a kiss, one that seared them both. With the few brain cells she had left, she tried to wriggle out of the rest of her clothes. But Liam's hands were there before she could.
"Not yet." He ran kisses over every inch of her newly bared skin, then said, "Lift your arms for me, sweetheart."
She was so bowled over by the endearment that she actually froze. Maybe she should have let it slip by, should have silently locked it away in her heart for cold winter nights, but how could she? "You called me sweetheart."
"Arms up," he said again, and as she did as he asked, she knew he was uncomfortable with what he'd just said. But she still needed him to know, "No one's ever said that to me before. I liked it. Say it again. Please."
For a long moment, she thought he might ignore her request. But then he lowered his mouth back to hers, and the word came against her lips so softly that she might not have heard it if she hadn't been able to feel it too.
"Sweetheart."
And when he kissed her again, Christie realized she wasn't in danger of falling anymore. Because despite every warning he'd given her--and despite every warning she'd given herself--she'd already gone and done it.
*
Liam wasn't a man who spouted poetry to the women he bedded. Sex had always been about taking care of physical needs. Sex had never been about laughter, or teasing. Definitely not about emotion.
And yet, Christie was drawing all three from him.
He knew what he should be doing, knew what was smart. Pulling away from her. Telling her he was sorry he'd come to her tonight. Saying this was a mistake.
The problem was, his brain was no longer in charge. Although, if that were the only problem, he might still have been able to dig into his self-control and leave before things went any further. Only, something else was leading tonight with Christie. Not simply a body that desired her.
But a heart he didn't have the first clue how to control.
How could he when what he saw in her eyes humbled him? Pleasure. Freedom. Joy. And so much emotion it made his chest clench with longing.
Longing to be worthy of her.
So when she reached for him again, he vowed to give her as much ecstasy, as much bliss, as she could bear. He kissed his way down her body, from her forehead, to her cheekbones, to the sensitive curve where her jaw met her neck. He tasted the hollow of her collarbone, then her shoulder and upper arm, then a spot on her inner elbow that made her shiver, then down to her hand so that he could kiss each fingertip one at a time. And then he did it all over again on her other side, leaving no part of her unearthed, untasted, unadorned.
Because every inch of her was a miracle. One that he'd never thought to deserve.
She was begging, pleading, by the time he found the swells of her breasts with his tongue. She arched into him, and it was an invitation he couldn't deny as he cupped her sweet flesh in his hand and took first one taut peak between his lips, and then the other. Over and over, until her hands were threaded in his hair. Until she was tugging him even closer. Until she was begging him again--to take more, to take everything.
He'd never wanted anyone this much, never knew desire could be so sharp, so overwhelming, so goddamned good. And still, his need for her continued to peak, to grow bigger and bigger with every kiss he ran down from her breasts to her rib cage and then her stomach. Her muscles quivered just beneath her skin as he devoured her, but she wasn't the only one shaking. He was too, his hands nowhere close to steady as he tried to memorize her every curve and hollow.
He wanted to go slowly, to wring every ounce of pleasure from her before morning, but when he gripped her hips and she lifted herself into his mouth, there was nothing in the world that could have stopped him from taking more.
She was so damned hot. So damned sweet. And so beautifully unashamed of her sensuality as she rocked against him to drive his tongue deeper against her sex, into her core.
Nothing had ever been this good before. Nothing had ever come anywhere close to being as beautiful as the scent, the sounds, the feel of Christie as her climax took her over. For the rest of his life, he'd be replaying the way she called out his name, her voice drenched not only with pleasure, but also with rich, heady emotion.
When she finally stilled beneath him, he ran kisses back up her body, over the curves that he wanted to keep exploring--in the water, on the beach, in the woods, in the shower, in his own bed. Anywhere and everywhere he could have her.
When he was finally levered back over her again, she cupped his jaw and kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him. Until everything inside his brain had turned to mush, so that the next thing he knew she had reversed their positions and was lying on top of him.
"Now."
The one word fell from her lips like nectar, and he had to drink from her lips again as she made surprisingly short work of his clothes and putting on protection. And then, in one seamless move, she was taking all of him inside of her, right where he longed to be.
Wrapped up in Christie, in her sweetness, in her warmth. And in deeper, truer pleasure--and peace--than he'd ever thought possible, as their bodies moved together as one.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Many times throughout the early-morning hours, Liam had wanted to wake Christie and make love to her again. But he hadn't had the heart to disturb her when he knew how badly she needed the rest. And the truth was that it had been a revelation just how much he'd enjoyed holding her in the dark, feeling her breathe deeply and evenly against him as he finally let himself relax for a few hours. Only now that the sun was rising over the lake was she slowly waking in his arms.
Her hips were pressed to his front as they both lay on their sides. She was using one of his arms as a pillow behind her head, but his other hand was free. Free to roam slowly, gently, over her bare curves.
The little hitches he could hear in her breath as she came fully awake and arched so that her hips were pressed even closer to his, took him from aroused to desperate for her within seconds.
Thankfully, he wasn't the only one with no self-control, because when he slid his hand from her breasts down to the vee between her legs, she opened for him on a soft moan. She was so hot, so ready, so perfectly made for pleasure, that he'd only barely stroked over her sex when she was coming apart for him with a shudder and his name on her lips.
After putting on protection, he lowered his lips to the bare curve of her neck at the same time that he came into her. And just like the night before, as they moved together so that pleasure peaked, then jumped higher still as they found release together, it was as though they were made for each other.
Only for each other.
They lay panting in each other's arms when she said, "Good m
orning." Her first words of the day were husky. Lazy with fulfilled pleasure.
But he could hear the uncertainty in them too.
He couldn't give her the words she needed to push that uncertainty away, but he could kiss her again, just the two of them safe beneath the sheets even as the rest of the world waited outside her door. A world full of people who would eventually find out about the two of them, no matter how hard they tried to hide what was between them.
If he'd had any control around her, Liam would have felt confident in his ability to keep his feelings for Christie to himself. But given that he couldn't so much as look at her without wanting to touch her, kiss her--or keep from smiling whenever she was near--he knew there'd be talk. Questions.
This morning, the easiest thing would be to pull her back into his arms and make that flush of desire spread all the way across her skin. And it was tempting, so damned tempting, to do just that. But for all the pleasure it would bring, he'd learned long ago that the longer one waited to have a difficult conversation, the more difficult it was to have it. Until the day came when they could no longer talk at all.
That was why he forced himself to say, "I've never been with anyone from town before. But as soon as people see us together, there's no way we'll be able to hide our relationship." Because he was utterly incapable of pretending she hadn't rocked his world.
She reacted as though his statement were a bucket of icy water poured over them both--and he understood why. Reality had never been harder to face than after their night of perfect pleasure. Her muscles immediately went from loose to stiff, and she scooted from his arms, pulling the sheet over her naked skin.
Did she have any idea how tempting she looked sitting there, her silky hair tumbling across her shoulders, her mouth rosy from his kisses, her eyes big and so green there was no emerald that could outshine them?
"Liam?"