How To Host a Seduction, page 20
If only she’d let herself believe in them.
He’d use every trick in the book to convince her.
Rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, he smiled when she squirmed, scooted forward on the bench to press her breasts into his hands. He continued smiling while trailing his mouth upward, tasting, exploring her neck in a way he hadn’t thought to when her hair had been long.
He made his way all the way up to her delicate, very sensitive ear…and exhaled. Her breath hitched audibly, her breasts rose and fell beneath his hands.
Then she tipped her face to his, brushed her lips across his. “I love you, Christopher.”
Her words filtered through him, blocking out all the night sounds, stunning in their intensity, in their honesty.
She loved him.
He’d known it, but knowing was so different from knowing she knew it, worlds away from hearing her admit it and having her prove it by stripping in a boat in the middle of the bayou to arouse him.
She loved him.
“I know.”
He claimed her mouth in a kiss that proved he’d never doubted her love for an instant. No matter how much she’d denied him, and herself, no matter how far she’d run, no matter how hard she’d fought, he loved her and had believed she loved him.
Christopher kissed her with an urgency he could barely control. She’d thrown caution to the wind—for a little while, at least—and seemed to be testing her limits, their passion. He wanted nothing more than to help her explore.
His hands restlessly kneaded her breasts, itched to coax those soft sighs from her lips. He wanted to plunge deep inside her, prove that what they shared was unique, worth believing in.
But he’d already done a thorough job of exploring what terrain he could.
“Christopher, you’ve got to get us to the island.” Her voice was breathless, just the right combination of urgency and need to make his heartbeat stumble over itself.
With a final flick of his tongue against her kiss-swollen lips, he sat back. “To the island, hmm?”
“Anywhere we can make love will work.”
He recognized the desire in her beautiful face, desire she didn’t hide. Touched, he lifted his hand to her cheek, was rewarded when her lashes fluttered shut over those incredible eyes and she pressed her cheek into his palm as though she longed for his touch.
She loved him.
“This boat won’t work, love?” he said softly. “Afraid we’ll capsize and get eaten by the gators? I thought you brought marshmallows.”
Her eyes opened, her gaze alight with golden sparks, with pleasure. “I don’t think marshmallows will work if we’re in the water. I nicked myself in the shower this morning so I’ll probably smell like a midnight snack.”
“I’d eat you over a marshmallow any day.”
Her smile made his heart pound harder, and he couldn’t help but be amazed by the excitement building between them.
Ellen wasn’t holding back. She’d given over to the moment, given over to him, and he wasn’t about to miss a second of this remarkable transformation.
Unfortunately, the consequences of taking his attention off the boat had translated into their drifting off course. He had to work hard with only one oar to get to the island, but the tender expression on Ellen’s face promised he’d be well rewarded.
The gazebo was in a sorry state of disrepair. Though it had been restored periodically throughout its history—even rebuilt once after a hurricane—the previous owners of Félicie Allée hadn’t wanted the liability of shuttling guests to and from the island to see a crumbling structure that while historical, wasn’t particularly significant.
“This what you had in mind?” he asked, extending his hand to Ellen to help her climb out of the boat.
She reached for her bag and then swept her gaze over the island that wasn’t much larger than Félicie Allée from one shore to the other.
“It’ll do,” she said.
But the wooden steps had rotted in places, and Christopher didn’t trust them to support even Ellen’s weight.
“Here, let me.” Grabbing her around the waist, he hoisted her over the steps onto the solid stone foundation.
She reached down, took his hand and helped him launch himself up, too.
“Sure you don’t want to put a border of marshmallows around the perimeter so the gators will have something to eat before they get to us?” he suggested.
“Silly man. I think we’ll be quite safe up here.” But her bravado was exactly that, because she darted a glance around, as if having second thoughts. “Don’t you?”
“Very safe. I told you I’d protect you. Trust me.”
“I do.”
He slid her bag down her shoulder and dropped it onto the ground, moving all evidence of marshmallows and alligators out of sight. Ellen wound her arms around his waist and nuzzled against him, every barely clad inch of her long curves making him long to get naked.
But she clearly had her own agenda for what was going to happen next, because she pulled his shirt up, forced him to lift his arms to help her drag it over his head. It landed on top of her bag. The night air hit his bare skin in a burst of moist heat that was nothing compared to the sight of Ellen dropping down to her knees, taking his shorts along with her.
He barely had time to savor the sight of her dark head poised against his crotch or even to register the fact that she really wasn’t playing by the rules tonight, before she left his shorts around his ankles and zeroed in on his erection.
She drew him inside her mouth with one long wet pull.
Christopher’s hips buck hard. His moan echoed through the night, a strangled sound that frightened whatever wildlife had been slumbering in the branches overhead, judging by the rapid fluttering of wings and rustling leaves that startled the quiet.
Ellen didn’t seem to notice, or care. She had a lip-lock on him that was coiling his muscles so tight that the lightest brush of her soft hair against his thigh made him shake.
Her fingers sliding beneath his balls did a lot more than make him shake. He full-fledged rocked this time, driving his erection into her hot satin mouth.
Ellen was in control of herself, and of him. She weighted him in her palm, fondled him with her gentle fingers, just the right amount of pressure to earn another strangled gasp.
He should stop her, and soon. There was no way in hell he would last long under this sort of determined assault, against the skilled touches of her mouth and fingers that were going to make him explode.
But Christopher’s fingers had mutinied against his brain’s command because they were suddenly threading through her soft hair, pulling her toward him…and his hips were swaying gently…and her tongue was rolling around his deliciously aching flesh and driving him out of his mind.
“Damn, Ellen.” Cupping her face in his hands, he forced her to stop the rhythm that would push him right over the edge.
She replied with another long draw that made his knees buckle.
“Damn.” He sank back against the decaying header, felt the rough wood scratch his back. When Ellen sank back on her haunches, drawing her mouth away and leaving his wet erection exposed to the air, he groaned.
The sound of her throaty chuckle promised greater things to come, which did much to restore Christopher’s equilibrium.
He had Ellen up on her feet before she had time to gasp.
The filmy nothing she wore shimmered over her body in the darkness, but his eyes had long ago adjusted to the lack of light and he could see her every curve, the way her breasts quivered with each rise and fall of her chest. He wanted to bury himself inside her, desperately.
He was going to make love to her. No question. The only question was where?
Urging her around, Christopher came to stand behind her, sliding his hands down the length of her slender arms to guide her toward the railing. “Put your hands here and hang on.”
Ellen didn’t say a word. She braced herself and pressed her sweet bottom back against him to cradle his erection between her silk-clad cheeks.
Christopher maneuvered aside the wispy silk, wound up ripping apart snaps in his haste. Worked for him. Now there was nothing to stop him from being where he wanted to be….
Taking aim, he found her wet and ready and he sank inside, one hot stroke that dragged a groan from his depths. Her moan filled his ears and for a moment he couldn’t move, could only stand there and absorb the feel of her body melting around him.
Standing as they were, he could reach all her intimate places while still protecting her soft skin from the threat of splinters, or worse. He slipped his hands around her, down between her thighs. He rolled that nub with his fingertips, was gratified when she shuddered, a full-bodied shiver that wedged her against him even more.
He dragged his mouth against her neck, infinitely grateful for her new short style that allowed him to access her smooth skin so easily. She tipped her head to the side and suddenly he could catch her mouth with his—the side of her mouth, anyway. But it was enough. Their tongues tangled, warm velvet and tasting of sex, a taste that made him ache to draw out so he could sink inside her again, to thrust and thrust until he satisfied his need for this woman that only grew stronger each time they made love.
But he didn’t move until Ellen rolled her hips and pressed against him, the signal he’d been waiting for. Christopher pulled back, then plunged inside, all wet heat and softness.
Again, and again.
His body gathered and tightened, built with the amazing, gut-wrenching intensity he felt only with her, each stroke making his control slip a little farther from his grasp.
Ellen’s breath clashed with his, her low moans—or maybe they were his—mingling with their kisses, as she levered herself with her arms, raised up on tiptoes to meet his thrusts, her sweet bottom slapping softly against him, the erotic sound echoing through the misty night. Then her sex seized up around him as she reached climax. His body exploded.
Grasping for the railing, Christopher used his arms to bracket her before he inadvertently collapsed and sent them both sprawling to the ground. His heart thudded. His thighs shook. He breathed harder than if he’d swum across the bayou, dragging Ellen and the boat behind him.
He’d never felt so damn good.
“Christopher?” Leaning back, she arched her neck until they stood cheek to cheek. “Can we see each other again after we get home? It’s not marriage, but will you let it be enough?”
He laughed, a broken sound. “It’s enough, love.”
14
Louis Armstrong Airport
ELLEN HOISTED HER GARMENT BAG over her shoulder, waved goodbye to Olaf.
“Take care.” He shot her a dazzling smile and Ellen decided he’d make the perfect hero for Susanna. “You’re sure you don’t want me to tell you how the mystery wraps up?”
“No, thank you,” she said, for the fourth time since they’d left Félicie Allée. “If you do, you’ll rob Lennon and me of a perfectly good reason to spend four hours on the telephone.”
Christopher and Lennon had both insisted on driving her to the airport, but Ellen had refused their offer, a combination of guilt for making them miss valuable sleuthing time and a need to avoid prolonging the goodbyes. She’d intended to call a taxi, but when Miss Q had pulled rank and offered Olaf’s services, she’d had no choice but to accept. The woman simply didn’t know the meaning of the words “no, thank you.”
With a final wave, she moved with the traffic inside the airport to begin her long wait to the ticketing counter. Her dad had finagled a last-minute commercial flight, and Ellen was almost sorry. Private travel arrangements to Washington, D.C., would have expedited her passage through the airport security process. She’d likely have been in the air in less than half the time.
Which would have given her less time to brood about leaving.
She was brooding all right, big-time. She wasn’t ready for her vacation to be over. Not yet. She’d gotten caught up in the mystery and the missing pieces still nagged at her. She and Christopher were so close, she could feel it.
Maybe she should have just let Olaf tell her how the story resolved and put an end to her suspense. But that would have meant accepting that her part in solving the mystery with Christopher was over. She wasn’t there yet, either.
Denial, a truly amazing thing.
Stepping into the long line at her airline counter, she inclined her head in greeting to the mom with the spiky red hair in front of her, opening a bag filled with coloring books, handheld video games and other items to entertain her two girls during the wait.
Propping her garment bag by her side, Ellen decided the fact that the captain and Felicity weren’t getting a happily-ever-after only exacerbated her need to solve the mystery. After all, they’d been in love. Those letters…that sort of passion deserved a happily ever after.
She and Christopher deserved it, too.
Maybe that was the real source of her discontent. She’d counted on vacationing until Monday morning, which meant they should still have two full nights to make love before giving up the sort of round-the-clock closeness they’d shared at Félicie Allée. Two nights to prove how much she loved him, before she was back to paying close attention to her comings and goings and how they might be interpreted.
Unless, of course, she married him….
But marriage after six months—three of which they hadn’t even spent together? Ellen shook her head. She had to abide by the conventions. Or face the consequences of which her whole family would partake.
She had to play by the rules.
Just like she had to leave today. Her mother was receiving a presidential award, a huge honor…
Mom has received other awards.…it was understandable that she wanted her family around her…
Would Mom really miss her this once?…but the press would comment on the missing daughter…
So what? She deserved a life, didn’t she?
Yes!
Ellen stared absently through the crowd surrounding her, discontent building as she came face-to-face again with the unpleasant fact that she was the only one holding herself back.
If any of her authors ever put a manuscript on her desk with a heroine who didn’t believe in romance heroes and always played it safe, Ellen would have deemed the heroine unworthy of the hero’s love, probably unworthy of revisions, too.
Who wanted to read about a heroine who was too scared to take risks? A heroine who let the one get away?
Better yet, who wanted to live that way?
Okay, technically she wasn’t letting Christopher get away. She’d hear from him as soon as he returned to New York. They’d work out some sort of timetable….
But romances were supposed to have happy endings, damn it.
She didn’t want a timetable. She wanted to fall asleep tonight in Christopher’s arms. She wanted to wake up to his hot kisses or to him serving espresso and beignets with those dimples flashing.
She wanted a damn happy ending.
I let myself believe it would all work out, and it did.
“Come on, lady. Move it!”
The irritated voice jolted Ellen from her thoughts and she gazed at the scowling man behind her.
He pointed at the ticketing counter. “Your turn.”
Ellen issued an automatic apology, which did nothing to erase his scowl, before she moved to the counter. The clerk smiled, a rather pleasant smile, she thought, given the sort of nonstop chaos the tighter airport security measures inspired.
“Your ticket, please.”
As she handed over her ticket, the poster above the clerk’s head caught her eye.
A sleek white cruise ship cutting through turquoise water.
“Ma’am?” the clerk asked, but Ellen didn’t reply.
She was too busy remembering the article about a cruise ship heiress in the office at Félicie Allée.
“Ma’am? Is there a problem?”
No problem at all.
Ellen had just found the missing piece to the mystery.
“I’m sorry,” she said, lifting her garment bag from the floor. “I’ve changed my mind. I won’t be making this flight.”
The ticketing clerk stared as if she might be a bomb about to detonate, but before she could comment, Ellen slipped away from the counter and headed back toward the drop-off area.
Finding a reasonably quiet corner to hide from the flow of noisy arrivals, she dug through her bag for her cell phone, pressed the speed dial.
Her dad picked up on the second ring. “Hello, honey, what’s up? Not a problem with the flight, I hope.”
“No, the flight’s fine, Dad. But I won’t be able to make it home for Mom’s award.” The declaration came surprisingly easy, which could only mean she’d made the right choice. “Nothing’s wrong, so please don’t worry. It’s just that I’m right in the middle of something important right now. I really can’t cut my trip short. Not even for two days.”
“What’s this all about? You’re sure everything’s all right?”
“I promise. I’ll explain everything when I get back to town. I just have a commitment to fulfill. I hate missing Mom’s acceptance, but I hope you’ll both understand, and trust me. Everything’s fine. It’s better than fine, in fact. It’s great. Please just kiss Mom, tell her I’m very proud of her and not to worry. I’ll be home in two days.”
“Does this have something to do with Christopher?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause on the other end, then he asked, “Are you happy?”
He was worrying, anyway. She could hear it in his voice. And she loved him for it.
“Yes.”
“He’s a very good man, honey. You know how we feel. Nothing has changed.”
“I do know. Thank you.”
“Well, I’ll see you at home on Monday,” he said. “We’ll talk then. In the meantime, enjoy the rest of your trip.”
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too, honey.”
That was it. He’d obviously known she hadn’t reached this decision lightly, and while he might not yet understand all that her decision entailed, he trusted her to work things out.
