Читать книгу Married Till Christmas - Christine Rimmer - Страница 10

Chapter Three

He led her into the sitting area. “Drink?”

“No, thanks.” She set her wrap over the back of the sofa and smoothed it with nervous hands. Everything felt strange suddenly. She shouldn’t be here.

There was no excuse for her to be here, to give in to him in this massive, impossible, stupid way.

He took off his suit jacket, tossed it over a chair and loosened his beautiful blue tie. His shirt was a gorgeous, lustrous light gray and his watch was a Blancpain. She knew because her father used to have one and she had wanted that watch so bad. She would have worn it proudly if he’d only left it to her. He hadn’t. He’d left it to her half brother Darius, the oldest of the nine of them, which she’d eventually let herself admit was fair.

“What?” He gazed at her with equal parts desire and impatience.

She kept the sofa between them, resting her hands on the back of it. “I need your agreement that this isn’t going anywhere, that it’s just for now, for while we’re here in Vegas.”

He dropped into a big white chair. Spreading his knees wide, he rested his arms on the chair arms, like some barbarian king holding court. “How many times do we have to go over this?”

“Until I’m sure that you agree and understand my, er, terms.”

“Your terms.” He seemed to taste the words and to find them not the least to his liking. “We don’t need terms. Just do what you think you have to do. I’ll do the same.”

She was suddenly absurdly glad for the fat sofa between them, as if it was any kind of real barrier, as if it could actually protect her from what she would do with him here tonight. “I just don’t want you to get any ideas about how things could change when we go home. They won’t. When we’re home, I’m not getting near you. I’m going to pretend that tonight never happened.” She waited, expecting some sort of response from him.

Sprawled back in the chair, he just stared at her. She felt her skin heating, her resolve weakening. It was absurd—she was absurd. But something had happened since last night, when she’d given in enough to have a drink and dinner with him. Something had happened as she’d spent the afternoon and evening with him today. She’d had the advantage before.

But that advantage was gone. She really ought to miss it more.

And still he said nothing.

Oldest tactic in the book: the one who speaks first loses.

She spoke. “Yeah, okay. I want you, Deck. I want you a lot. And I’m starting to get that this is something we just need to do. We need to get it out of our systems, find closure between us once and for all...”

Dear God. What was the matter with her, spouting all this tired psychobabble? Talking about “getting it out of our systems,” like sex was a juice cleanse. And “finding closure,” as though closure was something a person could misplace.

Those phrases were meaningless, really. Just the stuff people said when they were about to do something stupid.

And facing him now across the nonbarrier of the sofa, she knew absolutely that having a Vegas fling with Deck was a giant bowl of stupid with several spoonfuls of trouble sprinkled on top.

But she was going to do it anyway, whether she could get him to agree to her terms or not. She was going to do it because she couldn’t bear not to. Because she was almost thirty and he was the only man she’d ever been in love with. Because one thing had not changed: when he touched her, it all felt perfectly, exactly right.

He said, “I want you, too, Nellie. I always have.”

Bitterness rose in her. Too bad that didn’t stop you from throwing me away.

Then he held out his hand to her. His eyes were soft and yearning, wanting her the way she wanted him.

And in the space of an instant, her bitterness turned achingly sweet. She couldn’t scoot around that sofa and grab on to him fast enough.

His fingers closed around hers and he gave a tug, bringing her up flush between his spread knees. Already, he was hard for her, the ridge of his arousal obvious beneath his fly. The sight of it thrilled her, almost had her dropping to her knees to get closer, to make short work of his belt and his zipper, set him free to her eager touch, her hungry mouth.

He brought her hand to his lips, licked the bumps of her knuckles, causing havoc inside her, bringing up goose bumps along her arms. “I have a request.”

“Yeah?” It came out on a hungry hitch of breath.

“Take everything off. I want to see all of you. I’ve waited so long...”

* * *

Breathless moments later, she stood before him wearing nothing but the rhinestone comb.

“Nellie,” he said, low and dark and wonderfully rough. “You are more beautiful even than I remember. That shouldn’t be possible. But you are.” He commanded, “Bend down here.”

She bent from the waist. It felt like heaven, to bend to him, to give in to him. For now, for tonight and tomorrow, she had no need to resist him. She would have this night and tomorrow. Then on Monday, she would go home and set about pretending that none of it had happened.

Did that make her a liar and a coward and a fool?

Absolutely.

Her hair brushed his cheek. He framed her face with his strong hands. “Kiss me.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. Their lips met in a kiss that burned her down to her core. His tongue came invading. She welcomed the tender assault on her senses. He made her belly quiver. Without even touching them, he made her nipples ache and tighten.

As he kissed her, he slid the comb from her hair and dropped it to the little table by the chair. Freed, the red waves fell around them. He speared his spread fingers up into the thick mass of it, rubbing it into her scalp as though bringing up a lather, then closing those big fingers into fists, pulling a little, drawing her mouth even closer, sealing their lips together hard and fast, dipping his tongue in deeper.

When he finally loosened his hold on her, she had to remind herself to breathe. Lifting away a little, she stared down him, dazed with want. He gazed back at her, pupils dilated, black holes she could get lost in, never to be found.

They were both breathing hard. She felt herself falling into him, wrapping herself in his heat and his hunger that so perfectly matched her own, vanishing into him, though neither of them had moved.

“You won’t get away, Nellie,” he whispered. “I won’t blow it this time. You and me. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“Don’t go there.” She made her voice as low and rough as his. “Or I am leaving.”

They glared at each other, a battle of wills.

And then he gave her that slow, dangerous grin.

Suddenly, they were both laughing.

His hands clasped her waist and he came up out of the chair. She gasped at the speed of the move, canting back, making room for him—and let out a shriek of surprise as he boosted her high and laid her over his shoulder. “Deck!”

But he wasn’t listening. He put his hand on her bare bottom, spreading his fingers, holding her where he wanted her. “Steady. I’ve got you.”

And then he was moving, headed for the open bedroom door.

* * *

He laid her down on the turned-back bed. “Don’t you dare move.”

She only chuckled, grinning up at him, bringing her arms up and sliding them under the pillow beneath her head.

His eyes blazed down at her and he muttered a string of dark, delicious promises—of what he would do to her, how much he wanted her, all the ways he was going to drive her wonderfully, totally insane. And then he got out of his clothes, tossing them every which way, over a shoulder, in the general direction of the bedside chair. He threw that fancy watch at the nightstand. It dropped to the carpet. He just left it there.

When he came down to her she grabbed him close, her mind and heart and body ready, so ready, to be with him. There was no past or future tonight.

There was only right now.

And then he was kissing her, a thousand kisses or maybe a million. He said he needed to put his mouth on every single inch of her body.

She indulged him that. Gleefully, eagerly, she braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed him lower, murmuring huskily, “Wait. I think you missed a spot. Oh! Yes. There...”

Was it as good as she’d imagined it might be in her forbidden, delicious fantasies?

Better. So much better.

There was time for teasing. And there was time for overwhelming, intense kisses, for his big fingers inside her, playing her so well that she shattered in the space between two ragged breaths.

And, after that, he only played her some more, adding his wonderful mouth to the equation, until she was crying out, clutching his head, begging him, “Please, please, Deck. Please make it now. Oh, yes. Like that...”

After the third time he carried her to the peak, tumbling over, she took charge, pushing him to his back, worshipping every hard, glorious inch of his body the way he’d done to hers. She traced the tendons and veins on those big arms of his, bit the hard, high bulge of his biceps, followed the crisp trail of hair across his broad chest.

And on down.

She wrapped both hands around him and lowered her mouth to him. Somehow, for a little while, he held his natural inclination to take control in check. She savored every second of having all the power, taking him deep, relaxing her throat.

Taking him deeper still.

In the end, he couldn’t help himself. He had to take the lead, even in her pleasuring of him. He cradled her head between his big hands, holding her still for him.

She relaxed into it, letting him do what he wanted with her. It was glorious, so good. And at the last second he did let go, he let it happen, let himself go over. She looked up at him on his knees above her, his big head thrown back, a long, deep groan rolling from his throat.

She drank every drop of him. He tasted like the ocean, salty and rich.

Then he pulled her up to him, into his arms, settling her close to him in the tangle of sheets and blankets. He stroked her hair, traced the bumps of her spine, rested his broad hand in the naked curve of her waist.

Did she sleep for a little? It seemed she must have.

There were dreams, of the two of them, in the good times, years ago. Laughing together by a campfire, sharing a whole conversation in a glance across a classroom, walking the hallways at Justice Creek High, his arm across her shoulders, his body pressed just right along her side.

Invincible. That was how she’d felt with him. That as long as they were together, nothing could beat them. They ruled their private world of two.

He never knew what might happen at home. His father always had some big plan in the works that never seemed to pan out. Deck had never talked about it much, but Nell knew things hadn’t been easy for him and Marty. The way Nell understood it, Keith McGrath loved his family, but he was just always distracted. He couldn’t seem to get a job and hold on to it. The McGrath family struggled constantly just to get by.

Nell’s issues weren’t nearly so bad. But it was no fun, what went on in her family. When her dad’s first wife died, he’d married her mother and moved Willow into the house he’d built for wife number one. Nell had still been living at home then, so she’d moved, too. It was awful, going home to the house that had belonged to her father’s first wife, to her resentful half sister Elise and Elise’s best friend, Tracy, who had been taken in by Elise’s mom years before, when Tracy’s parents died suddenly. Elise always acted so prissy and ladylike. However, being ladylike didn’t stop her from coming up with new ways to torture Nell. It was a war in the Bravo mansion back in those days, a war in which Nell fought just as dirty as Elise.

But sometimes, even though you don’t believe it could ever happen when life is crappy, things do get better. It had for Elise and Nell. Now, she and Elise were tight. They would do anything for each other. Too bad they didn’t know back then how it would all work out.

It was the same with loving Deck, really. She’d been so happy with him in high school. Looking back, she was glad she hadn’t known how it would turn out with him. She’d had no clue that he would shatter her poor heart and that it would take her forever to recover from losing him.

Like that ancient Garth Brooks song that her mother used to love, where life was a dance and if you’d known ahead of time how bad a loss was going to be, you might have just said no to whatever was destined to break your heart.

But if you said no to love, you would miss the dance.

And, really, now that she was over it, over him, she could let herself admit that the dance of their young love had been pretty damn spectacular.

She could honestly say now, at last, after all these years, that she wouldn’t have missed loving Deck for the world.

As for this brief, thoroughly magical reunion they were sharing? No way would she have wanted to miss this, either.

She tipped her head back to look at him.

His eyes were open, watching, waiting.

She offered her mouth and he took it.

The magic began again.

And when he got the condom from the bedside drawer, she took it from him, rolling it down over him. He rose above her, his eyes gleaming almost golden in the light from the lamp.

He came into her and she took him, deep and true. She wrapped her whole body around him and they moved together, in perfect rhythm, all the way to the top of the world and over into free fall.

She called his name, among other things. She had no idea what crazy words came out of her mouth as her body pulsed around him.

All she knew was that it was perfect, this moment. This last dance together with the boy she’d once loved beyond all reason.

He wasn’t that boy anymore. And she was no longer the girl who had given her heart and trusted him not to break it.

Which was fine. As it should be.

And this, tonight, was just what she’d needed, a Las Vegas fling with the grown-up Deck McGrath.

* * *

In the gray light of the next morning, he reached for her. She melted into him. They made love, sweet and slow.

After the loving, they ordered room service. They had breakfast in bed and then made love again. They took a long bath. Together.

And made love again.

More than half the day had passed and all they’d done was eat breakfast and take a bath—oh, and the lovemaking. Lots and lots of lovemaking. She was dizzy with it, swept away into a beautiful, sensual dream, a private fantasy, a lush, secret world containing just the two of them.

By late afternoon, he let her go down to her room. But only long enough to shower, put on a little makeup and get dressed. He was at her door a half an hour after she’d left his suite.

He started kissing her. No surprise where that led.

Finally, they both agreed they needed to get out, have some dinner. The big bed would be right there waiting for them when they returned.

She put her dress back on. He ordered a car and off they went to an Italian place he knew about. The food was wonderful and there was a really nice Chianti. Maybe she had a little more of that than she should have.

They got back in the limo.

Deck shut the privacy screen between them and the driver. They glided up and down the strip, making love. Even through the tinted windows, the bright lights reached them and played a symphony of color across their naked skin.

There was champagne. Dom Pérignon.

“When did you order champagne?” she asked, sitting there naked, feeling satisfied, shimmery all over, somehow. It was really quite wonderful.

He said, “You are so beautiful, Sparky. Bold and strong and so damn smart. More than any man deserves in this life. There is no one, no one, like you.”

His words poured over her. They made her feel special. Treasured. Loved.

He never did answer about the champagne, not that she really cared. He popped the cork and gently pushed her down onto the seat so he could pour the bubbly treat on her belly. He sipped it from her navel. She wove her fingers in his hair and sighed in delight.

He said more thrilling things, lots of them, whispering them against her bare skin—that he loved her, that she was and always had been the only woman for him.

She took what he said as part of the fantasy he was weaving around her. No, they weren’t real, his vows of love and forever. She didn’t believe them.

But they sure sounded good. They went down just right with the champagne, with the feel of his hot, hard body pressing close, with the endless pleasure he gave.

It was paradise, pure and simple, to be held in his arms.

When the limo slowed and glided to a stop, she opened her eyes and asked, “Where are we?”

He chuckled. “Put your dress back on. We’ll go check it out.”

“An adventure?” That sounded delightful.

“That’s right. Nell and Deck’s big adventure.” He helped her back into her clothes. Once she was dressed again, she sat there grinning like a fool as he put on his shirt, his boxer briefs and his pants. She wasn’t really drunk, just...kind of high. High on pure pleasure, on sexual satisfaction.

He was fully dressed now. He held up her coat and she put it on.

Dazed, happy, glowing all over, she let him help her from the car.

They were at the Clark County Marriage License Bureau, of all things. That made her laugh. “Oh, you are kidding me.”

He took her hand. “Come on, let’s go inside, just for fun.”

“But...it’s nine o’clock on Sunday night.”

“Sparky, this is Vegas. They almost never close.” He gazed down at her expectantly.

She thought about how much she was loving this, every minute of this night, the two of them together, kind of hazy from the alcohol, loose and easy all over from the beautiful lovemaking. What a great way to feel. She was ready for anything.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s go inside.”

She followed him in.

After that, well, whatever he suggested, she couldn’t say yes fast enough. She let him take a number and when their turn came, she whipped out her driver’s license and signed where the clerk pointed. It was all very simple. Smooth and easy as you please.

When they returned to the limo, they had a marriage license.

Really, why was she doing this? She wasn’t that drunk. She didn’t understand herself. She ought to...

But then he started kissing her again. And it was a game they were playing. Delicious. Thrilling. In a way, the whole thing was like a dream, her dream, from so long ago, the dream that didn’t come true.

Somehow, impossibly, it was coming true tonight.

It wasn’t that far to the wedding chapel—well, it was more of a wedding complex, really, a series of pink stucco buildings and a parking lot dotted with palm trees and spiky succulents. The limo slid to a stop and Deck pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.

Inside was a gorgeous ring. He slipped it on her finger, a perfect fit, and she thought, He’s got this all planned.

That should have alarmed her, right?

Definitely.

But the ring was so beautiful, with a large square-cut diamond, smaller diamonds glittering along the platinum band. And everything just felt...right somehow. Tonight, she was living the teenage fantasy she’d once believed in so passionately—the fantasy of her and Deck and happily-ever-after.

The years between then and now had somehow folded in on themselves. He’d never taken a buzz saw to her heart, never married someone else.

Her life with him, the love he’d always promised her. Their own personal forever...

It was coming true at last.

The chapel complex had it all, everything two people needed to say “I do,” Vegas style.

The woman in the lobby area greeted Deck by name. “Mr. McGrath.” She practically cooed at him. “Welcome to Now and Forever.” She aimed a thousand-watt smile at Nell. “And it’s a delight to meet your beautiful bride.” The woman took Deck’s black credit card and sent him to the men’s boutique to rent a tux.

Another woman came for Nell. “I’m Anita. And I’m so glad you’ve come to us for your special night. Follow me.”

In the bride’s boutique, Nell chose her dress. It was perfect, that dress, with a low back and lace sleeves—a mermaid dress, clinging to her body all the way to her knees and then opening out in a fishtail of lace and glittering beads. A seamstress quickly pinned and tucked at the waist and down over her hips, creating a perfect fit. And then she whisked the dress away to alter it on the spot.