Healing Kiss, page 17
“Tristan, honey, have her lie down. She doesn’t look well,” Brenda said.
Before Lillian could object, Tristan picked her up in his strong arms and carried her to the couch, positioning her among the cushions.
She sighed. “I could get used to this.”
He didn’t answer but propped a pillow under her head. “Take it easy. Lay here and rest a while.”
“I’m okay. I just need a minute.”
His blue eyes seared into hers, his expression stern, and she realized he was angry with her and trying hard not to show it. “Your definition of okay and my definition of okay are obviously different.”
“She’s exhausted. Now’s not the time to get upset with her,” Brenda said. She had come behind Tristan and laid her hand on his shoulder.
Tristan’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. Lillian realized despite what she had told him about being able to heal, he had not quite expected to see such a major improvement in his mom’s condition.
“Mom?”
“Relax, I feel great.” She smiled at Lillian. “You have a magical touch.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Tristan shot a look toward Lillian, wonder in his eyes.
She smiled but shook her head from side to side and sent a silent apology, trying to remind him without words that a total cure was not possible—would never be possible.
He must have understood because he frowned, turning to his mom. “How do you feel?”
“Wonderful. I’ve never been better. Listen, Nancy’s making breakfast; why don’t you both stay?”
Tristan flicked a glance at Lillian, his brows drawn. “Mom, I wish we could, but Zoey isn’t feeling well. I want to get her home and into bed so she can rest.”
“I understand.” She winked at Tristan, and warmth flooded Lillian’s cheeks. “You need to bring her back soon, though. Your Zoey is special.”
“I’ll do that.” Tristan hugged his mom, leaning over to whisper something in her ear. Whatever it was made his mom laugh and kiss him on the cheek.
Lillian didn’t bother telling Brenda she was not her son’s girl, and they wouldn’t have the opportunity to get to know one another better. She was leaving just as soon as she felt well enough to board an airplane.
Tristan must have guessed some of Lillian’s thoughts because a stubborn look flashed across his expressive face. “Do you think you can make it to the car?”
She sat up, and thankfully, the room stopped spinning. “I think so.”
He held out a hand, which she grasped, and he pulled her to her feet.
“I can manage on my own,” she said.
“I’m not taking any chances.” He must have collected her purse where she left it because he held it in one hand and curled his other around Lillian, guiding her toward the front door.
She should resist being this close to him. It would only make it harder when she had to leave. But her knees were weak, and her heart was racing, whether from the healing or being next to Tristan, Lillian wasn’t certain.
His mom followed them, and Tristan turned to hug her when they reached the door. “You seem so much better, Mom. I’ll have Nancy make an appointment with your doctor for an exam.”
His mom must have been used to Tristan making the decisions for her care because she didn’t argue. Instead, she patted Tristan’s arm and smiled. “When will I see you next?”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll see if I can talk Zoey into coming with me.”
Before Lillian could object, Tristan whisked her out the door. “Bye, Mom.”
Tristan kept his thoughts to himself on the way home, but he glanced over at Lillian from time to time to make sure she was resting. She’d closed her eyes as soon as she’d strapped herself into the vehicle, and he witnessed once again how healing took a toll on her physically.
He stepped on the accelerator and pulled onto the highway. The sooner he could get Lillian to his home and in bed, the better. What she had done for his mom was nothing short of a miracle. What would the doctors say when they saw how improved she was? He could hardly believe it himself.
It started to rain, so he turned on the windshield wipers and flicked a glance at Lillian. Right now, he was more worried about her than his mom, which was unusual enough to make him question his own motives. How had she become so important to his personal happiness in such a short space of time?
Her thin arms were tucked into her lap, and her eyes were shut. She looked exhausted, and no wonder. She’d thrown up the meal he’d prepared last night. This morning, she’d only eaten a small portion of her breakfast.
It rained harder now, which matched his mood, and he strained to see through the wiper blades. He’d be damned if he’d let Lillian leave without a decent meal in her. He’d be damned if he’d let her leave without getting her to first acknowledge what was happening between them. The more he thought about it, he’d be damned if he’d let her leave him at all until she’d completely recovered.
Despite the driving rain, in no time at all they had pulled through the gate and into the long driveway and around the back of his house. He parked the car and watched her a moment, the slight up and down movement of her chest confirming she still breathed. He hated to wake Lillian, but she’d sleep better in bed.
“Zoey.” He shook her shoulder gently, careful to use her alias although he’d begun to think of her as Lillian the moment Brian had revealed her given name.
She opened her eyes and blinked. “Are we home already?”
Home. A thrill raced through him at the sound of the word on her tongue. He suspected she hadn’t even realized she’d used it to describe his house. “Yes. Here, let me help you.”
He came around to her side, but she’d unlocked her seatbelt and was stepping out of the car. She didn’t reject his offer of help, though—another clue to how hard the healing process was on her body. He tucked her into his side and guided her through the side door.
She let out a small shriek of surprise when he scooped her up into his arms once they were inside.
“You can’t keep picking me up every time you think I’m going to fall over.” She sounded winded.
He laughed and continued moving. “Is that what I was doing?”
“Yes, put me down. I’m not sick—I’m just tired.”
He ignored her. He wasn’t about to let her walk up the long staircase in her present condition. Not when she was obviously drained and he could easily take the burden from her fragile frame.
She stopped the protests after the first few steps, winding her arms around his neck and laying her head on his shoulder as if she’d exhausted herself. Her hair smelled like a wild strawberry patch, and he had the crazy urge to never let her go. But all too soon they reached her bedroom.
He managed to twist the knob and kick the door open with her in his arms and place her on the bed. He lifted her foot and tugged on one of her shoes.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you undressed so you can crawl under the covers. You need to rest.” He removed the other shoe.
“Tristan…”
“Where are your pajamas?”
“I don’t need them,” she said, but he’d already found her suitcase and unzipped it.
“Found them.” He pulled out what looked to be a pair of sleeping shorts and a T-shirt and offered them to her. “Your PJs, am I right?”
“Yes.” She held the clothing he tossed her way to her chest like a shield.
He couldn’t stop from teasing her. “Would you like me to help you in them?”
She tugged a hand through her hair, and her voice hitched. “I’ve got it.”
Was her real hair short or would it tumble around her shoulders? Hell, he didn’t even know if it were curly or straight.
“Spoil sport.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat.
She shot him a look that managed to convey both exasperation and adorableness at the same time, and he grinned like a damn fool.
He meant to leave her alone to put on her pajamas then, but his fingers reached to caress her cheek, and she placed her hand on his. Their gazes connected, and suddenly, he no longer cared about the secrets she guarded or whether her eyes were brown or blue underneath the contacts or if she would leave him tonight. He cared only about the here and now—this moment—the incredible softness of her skin, her warm strawberry scent, the painful pounding of his heart, which threatened to beat its way out of his chest, and her red, red, lips.
“Zoey, I…” She needed her rest. He should go.
Her eyes were so large in her oval face, he was drowning in them—her irises such a clear green, he could see into her soul, and what he saw left him breathless. What he saw made him believe in happy ever after. His throat scratched, and he cleared it again, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He remained frozen in place, waiting.
She tugged him toward her. “Don’t leave me.”
That was all the signal he needed. He practically dived onto the bed, rolling with her in a tangle of arms and legs and pajamas. He held her close, stunned by her softness and the way her chest moved under his as she drew in air, and the taste of her skin and the fact that she was under him.
“Tristan,” she gasped as his lips kissed every bit of flesh he could find. “Tristan, I…”
He was crushing her, of course. The knowledge crashed in on him with blinding clarity. What a selfish jerk he was. She’d only just recovered and all he could think about was burying himself in her softness.
It practically killed him, but he put a little space between then, propping himself on his elbows.
“I should leave. You’re tired,” he managed, but neither of them moved.
He brushed a piece of blonde hair from her eyes, and there his fingers lingered, seeming to have a will of their own, stroking down the line of her cheek.
She gazed up at him, a shyness in her expression, which tugged at his heart until it was almost painful. He lowered his head slowly, slowly, giving her plenty of opportunity to tell him where to go.
She didn’t, and their lips connected. And then he was drowning in their perfect smoothness and their bowed shape. She moved under him restlessly, and his pulse rocketed when she wound her arms around his neck. He backed off, but she pulled him toward her.
“Please,” she said. “Please.”
Oh, he pleased alright. But his guilty conscious required him to give her one last chance to get away, so he pulled himself up to study her face. What he read in her eyes took his breath away. There was excitement and passion and a warm invitation.
“Zoey? Are you wanting…”
“You,” she said and kissed him.
Chapter Twenty-one
Lillian was quite certain she’d never felt so secure as she did in Tristan’s arms. She’d put up a good fight, but the ending was inevitable. She’d known it the first time he’d touched her, when she felt the rush of his energy and realized he was a burner. She’d known it last night when she’d had to hide in her bedroom. On some fundamental level she needed him, needed the safe haven he provided, and this was what made it impossible to fight the attraction between them any longer.
That was her last rational thought before she was drowning in a sea of sensation.
He tugged on her shirt, slipping it over her head, and then unhooked her bra. She drew in a breath at the intense look in his eyes and the tender way he touched her—like she was fragile and would break.
“Are you sure?” His breath caressed her skin like a warm breeze. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You can still tell me to go, and I will.”
She shivered and silenced his words with a single finger over his lips. She did not want him to go. She did not want to be cautious any longer or have regrets. She’d grown weary of worrying about a future she could not control. She only wanted the here and now and the solid presence of Tristan to relieve the ache of loneliness and fear inside her. She needed to be selfish for once in her life—to take what he offered freely and to not think about the consequences. To touch him and be touched.
“I’ve never been surer of anything,” she whispered.
He scooped her from the bed, rising up so that the room seemed to sway, and all she could do was cling tightly to his neck.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he carried her through the doorway and down the long hallway.
“To my room,” he said, heading through the doorway and laying her down on the biggest bed she’d ever seen. “We’ll have a little more leg room here.”
“I’ll say,” she laughed, spreading her arms wide.
He laid down and pulled her into his arms. “I’ve dreamt of having you here in my bed.”
“You…you have?” The admission had her blushing.
For an answer, he pulled her finger into his mouth and sucked on it, which had the immediate effect of creating a coiling tension inside her. It was a sensual, pleasurable sensation, and made her long for the feel of him moving inside her.
She would have to wait.
He would not be rushed, despite how much she writhed and twisted and rubbed against him. He finished suckling her finger, then moved to her palm and arm and neck before finding her breasts. His teeth nipped and grazed her nipples like he was feasting on a banquet.
She moaned, and he paused before bending to suckle her again, slow and agonizingly attuned to her every reaction. She gasped and gyrated under his touch, running her hands up the broad muscles of his back to wrap around his neck and press him close. Liquid heat spread between her legs, igniting a raging fire inside her.
“Please, Tristan. Please. I need you.”
“Yes,” he said and shrugged out of his shirt, tugged out of his pants with a little help from her. And then he rose above her like some Greek god of old, moving into her, hard and deep and oh so glorious, and she forgot everything except how right they felt together and how much she needed him.
His Lillian lay sprawled across the comforter, gloriously naked and vulnerable. Funny how he thought of her as his after such a short time. There was still so much to learn about her.
He traced the mole on her stomach, the curve of her hip, enjoying the softness of her skin and the contrast between her pale tone and his darker one.
She shivered, and he pulled the blanket up and curled her into his side, throwing one leg over hers and rising up on his elbow to view her expression. “Cold?”
She blinked, granting him a flash of emerald—contacts, he reminded himself—before closing her eyes as if to hide from his gaze. “A little.”
There would be no more hiding from this day forward. No more secrets. He would not allow it. He willed her to confide in him, to trust him with the truth of her situation so he could reassure her he would do everything in his power to protect her.
“What are you thinking?” She watched him, wariness in her expressive eyes.
He decided honesty was the best course of action. “That you’re beautiful. That I’ve been wanting to make love to you since we first met. That although it’s only been a few days since we met, I think I’m falling for a blonde-haired, green-eyed siren who refuses to reveal her whole self to me.”
She lowered her eyes but stayed put, which he took as a promising start.
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” he said.
She raised her gaze to his, some secret emotion swirling in their emerald depths. “I don’t, either.”
He smoothed a hand across her forehead. “I won’t force you to stay, but I’d like you to. Whatever this is that’s happening between us, I don’t ever want it to end.” He placed her hand over his pounding heart. “You must feel it, too.”
“Yes.”
He tugged on a strand of her hair. “Will you remove this and show me what you look like? I don’t want barriers between us. I want to see your whole self.”
“I…I’m not quite ready.”
“Zoey, whatever it is…whatever you’re afraid of revealing, I promise, I won’t run. But I won’t tolerate lies or deception. I need to know I have your trust as you have mine.”
“I know.” A tear trembled at the corner of one of her eyes, and she drew in a breath, her lips parting. He waited in silent expectation for an answer that never came.
Instead, she twisted in his arms and kissed him, cloaking his body in her strawberry scent. He only meant to return the kiss, but she opened her mouth and stretched out her arms, pressing her breasts into him, and he was lost in a sensual haze of pleasure.
He’d learn the secrets of her flesh now. There would be time to learn her other secrets later.
Lillian rested her cheek on Tristan’s chest, enjoying the way it rose and fell as he slept and the long, lean length of him. She loved the way his hairs curled, matted against his skin and how they formed a dark V on his belly and lower. She loved everything about him.
She took a breath, amazed that the ache and haziness in her head she normally felt after a healing had vanished. Was that the effect of making love to a burner?
She moved her gaze down Tristan’s body, toward his muscled thighs and calves and that part of him that gave her pleasure, marveling at his shape and how it had felt earlier to have free access to explore his body. He had watched her with dark-blue eyes glittering with want, and then he’d taken command, turning her over and thrusting deep inside until she couldn’t be sure where he ended and she began.
Did she dare stay here with him? She wanted to…oh, how she wanted to. The longer she lingered, the harder it was to contemplate leaving. Maybe she could find a way.
She untangled her legs from his body, holding her breath when he murmured something unintelligible. When he didn’t open his eyes, she released the air in her lungs. With the smallest movement possible, Lillian scooted to the edge of the bed and stood.
