Creative License (4 page)

With care, he pulled back the duvet and slipped into the bed. Cool sheets caressed his body and he couldn’t help but think of Lily’s warmth just a reach away. He turned onto his side, his back to her. Lily’s body might be in his bed, but Lily, the girl he thought he knew, was a dream he’d left in Vegas.

Chapter Four

Lily ran one hand over the hard muscled flesh of Caleb’s chest, the skin silky smooth beneath her touch. Her body tingled. It was as though her fingertips had become hyper-sensitive or her nerve-endings doubled, or maybe his flesh really was infused with electricity.

His warmth spread through her palm and up her arm to stoke the fire building in her core. The action was addictive. She wanted to explore every inch of the body lying next to her. She wanted it feel his hands on her. Flesh against flesh.

“Caleb.” It was only a whisper, but his muscles shivered beneath her fingers. Soft lips nuzzled her neck, sending chills of pleasure down her spine as desire warmed her belly.
Why was I denying myself this again?

His lips moved down her body, trailing kisses over the hollow of her neck to her collarbone, leaving a fire in their wake. His tongue darted out to lick the rise of one breast and she arched her back, surrendering to his ministrations. Her fingers tightened, pressing into the firm muscles of his back. Caleb didn’t hesitate. His hot breath blew against her nipple, hardening its pink crest until it ached. “Oh lick them, taste them, please.” A groan escaped her throat as his mouth descended, his lips soft, nibbling at the swell of her breast, trailing to its crest. He expertly licked her nipple before he took the tightened peak into his mouth and suckled.

Liquid fire spread through her body. His hands traced lower, over her waist, down her hips to tease her inner thighs while his lips abandoned the first nipple to torment the other. Lily drifted, lost in a world of pleasure and yearning for more. She pressed her hips toward his hand, wanting him to touch her, to take her over the edge…

The alarm went off.

Lily bolted upright, blinking away the images in the dream. She touched the still-warm, but empty, bed. It had been a dream, right? She glared at the alarm clock. Ten more minutes was all she’d needed to—

Oh, God. What am I thinking?
Taking a deep breath, she attempted to dispel the desire burning through every nerve. Her heart still beat staccato against her ribs when Caleb walked into the room, a thin towel hung low over his hips and his hair wet from the shower

“So you’re up.”

Lily fought not to stare, but her gaze lingered on his abdomen, following the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the towel to the bulge of his sex.

“Are you okay?” Caleb asked.

Lily shook her head and met his eyes as heat warmed her body. Her fingertips remembered the feel of his skin. Her sex throbbed and need blazed in her core. “Uh, yeah. Strange dream is all.”

He shrugged and walked to the dresser, bending over from the waist to rummage in a drawer. Lily followed his movement with a hungry gaze as the towel rode up the back of his thighs. The muscles under the towel moved like well-oiled machinery.

She fought a sudden urge to walk across the room, yank the towel off and relive the dream.

“You were mumbling in your sleep.”

Cold dread partially doused her burning hunger. “I what?”

Caleb turned. “Mumbled. In your sleep.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” She swung her legs out of bed and almost tripped as her feet caught on the sheet. “What did I say?” Her attempt at casual came out more as a challenge.

“How should I know? You were mumbling.”

Lily took a deep breath. “Any hot water left?”

“Sure.”

Good. Not that I’ll need any.
Nope, it was a cold shower she’d be having or her name wasn’t Lily McPherson…or was it?
Oh my God, was it?
“Did I, um, keep my last name?”

Caleb turned to her, his green eyes puzzled, and then he chuckled, low and would-you-do-that-again sexy. The sound sent ripples of desire through Lily’s body.

“Nope. Lily Anderson. Has a nice ring. You can keep it if you want.”

“No thanks,” she mumbled, staring at the water droplets beaded on his chest. She licked her lips before she was aware of the action. It was a poor substitute for licking the water off his skin. She glanced up and met his gaze. His eyes had darkened and he was looking at her, she imagined, the same way she’d been looking at him a moment ago, like something good to eat.

She swallowed. “I’d better get in the shower now.” She spun and headed toward the bathroom before she changed her mind.

Caleb leaned against the dresser, struggling to catch his breath. He watched her back as it retreated down the hall, but interposed on that image was Lily sitting in bed, the sheets pooled around her body, hair tousled from sleep and brown eyes glazed with desire. Had she woken up like that in Vegas three years ago, he’d never have let her out of the room. Hell, he’d never have let her leave the bed.

His erection pushed against the towel, urging him to go after her. The thought of Lily in the shower, her body slick and wet with water, slammed into him and he gripped the edge of the dresser, his knuckles whitening with strain. He’d lick the water off her shoulders, take those beautiful breasts into his mouth and suckle, driving her crazy with need before he dipped lower. He could almost feel her hips under his palms, taste her juices as he licked those slick folds, the memory of the honeyed flavor vivid in his mind.

He closed his eyes, then opened them to stare at his reflection in the mirror. God damn if he was going to go through the next few days with a permanent hard-on. She’d wanted him, he was certain, but how would she react if he did just walk into the bathroom and step into the shower with her?

Hands shaking, Caleb grabbed a clean pair of briefs and put them on. One thing he knew for certain, he couldn’t take another rejection. It wasn’t shock and horror he wanted to see in those liquid brown eyes. He stepped into a clean pair of jeans and took a deep breath. Self control. He could do this; it was only until Sunday morning. Piece of cake. He glanced in the mirror again, wondering when he’d started lying to himself.

Lily stared into her coffee cup and sighed.

“Is something wrong?” Caleb asked from across the small dinette table.

“No. It’s good coffee.” She took a sip and averted her gaze. Those kissable lips were just too close. She couldn’t help but stare. How could one man exude so much raw sexuality? Not only that, she’d come out of the shower to find fresh coffee and breakfast. She’d married a domestic sex-god.
Business, Lily.

“We have lunch with Mrs. Patterson on Saturday. I leave at ten on Sunday, so what’s on the agenda for today?” She had a sudden thought. “What kind of lunch is it?”

Caleb stared over Lily’s shoulder.

“Caleb.”

He blinked and then focused on her. “Sorry.”

“What kind of lunch?” she repeated. He’d shaved and left his hair to down to frame his face. Her fingers itched to run through the silky tresses.

“The kind with food.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Are you going to eat that?” He pointed his fork toward her half-eaten pancake.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Concentrate.
“There are many types of lunch. Do you have the invitation?”

“Um, yes.” Caleb stood, walked to the refrigerator, reached around the side, and came back with a wrinkled piece of cardstock and a magnet in his hand. He handed it to Lily before he sat back down.

The paper felt satiny under her fingers. This was some expensive card stock. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“It wouldn’t stick. Too heavy. So I ripped the picture off. Figured all I needed was the details.”

Lily shook her head and read the details. “Intimate lunch.” She closed her eyes, mentally reviewing the dresses she’d brought with her.

“That’s good right?”

She shook her head. “Intimate could mean just us or twenty of her closest friends. I might need to go shopping.”

“Why?”

“I think I forgot my black sling-backs.”

“I can’t believe you forgot anything.” He smiled, dimples softening the planes of his face.

“You want me to look nice, right?”

“Baby, you look good in anything.”

Lily fought the blush. “Thank you, but I don’t think the black flats will cut it. The only other dress shoes I brought are gold and I’m thinking silver jewelry.”

“Black sling-backs.” Caleb smiled over his coffee cup and forked the uneaten bite of pancake off her plate. “Doesn’t sound too hard.”

“Hey, stop that. I’m not done.” She swatted away his fork with hers and the tines clinked, knocking the disputed morsel back on her plate.

“Oh ’tis a fight she wants? Unguard.” He held his fork before him like rapier and put one hand behind his back.

Lily raised a single eyebrow. “For my pancake?”

“For country and pancake, yes.”

“It’s
en garde
, silly.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what they say? They don’t teach fencing in public school.”

“They don’t teach it in most private schools either. Lucky for you, I’ve had lessons.” Their forks clicked in staccato rhythm. Lily laughed. “You’re not half bad.”

“Fork champion of the west.” Caleb laughed.

“Ouch.” Lily dropped the utensil as the tip of Caleb’s fork pricked her finger.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Caleb was around the table and holding Lily’s hand before she could blink. The scent of him washed over her, pinning her to the spot better than if he’d had a saber.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He knelt beside her chair, his green eyes worried.

“It…it’s okay. It’s not even bleeding.”

He picked up her hand and kissed the wounded finger. Their eyes met and he froze. Lily swallowed. Her body ached with need, for his warm, soft lips to kiss her again. “I was done anyway.” Her voice lacked strength.

Caleb didn’t move.

“The pancake. I was done anyway. Forfeit to the winner.” She extricated her fingers. “I’ll, um, go get ready.”

Caleb stood and backed up a step giving Lily room. She tried not to run into the bathroom, but her heart beat against her chest as though she had.

Once inside, she leaned against the door and took a deep breath. How could he make her feel so much with a single touch? Her fingers still tingled where his lips pressed against them. A surge of cream dampened her thong at the thought. Was it so bad that she wanted to have sex with Caleb? He was her husband. They couldn’t get any more entangled than that. She groaned as an image of tangled sheets magnified the throbbing between her legs. Oh, yes, they could. While in the shower, the memories of Vegas had begun to flash through her mind with aching clarity.

He’d slid onto the stool next to her, ordered a whiskey, no ice and then turned to ask, “What’s a nice girl like you doing in Las Vegas?” She’d laughed at such a corny line but it worked. They’d sat and talked deep into the night about everything. She’d never told anyone else about her dreams to sing, about her desire to see Paris, not as a tourist, but to prowl the side streets, to live there like a native. It had been more than talking, they’d bared their souls.

Caleb had said his father was a teacher and his mother owned a daycare. She was the blueblood daughter of an investment banker and a socialite. But it hadn’t seemed to matter.

He’d even convinced her to go on the Ferris wheel on the Vegas strip, something she never would have done on her own. She closed her eyes to feel again the breeze from the warm Nevada night, the dizzying height as the ride paused at its apex, the colorful lights spread out below and then her stomach dropped as they descended, Caleb’s arm tightening around her shoulder.

She could still remember watching the fountain at the Bellagio and listening to the music, his arms wrapping her from behind, his chin resting on her head and his warmth enveloping her. It was more than enchanting. It was magic.

They’d had dinner and more drinks. He knew more about classical music than she did and his knowledge was experiential, hers from a history of music class she’d been forced to take as a teen. He’d managed to awaken her to the passion in the music better than her professor. They’d decided to gamble and had more drinks, and then he’d taken her to his hotel room.

She slid down the door and sat on the cold tile floor. The sex had been incredible. It had been like he’d claimed her, somehow touched her soul. She’d flown to heights she’d never known.

Afterward, suddenly ravenous, they’d called room service. From that point her memory blurred—champagne-laced kisses, laughter, the warmth of his body. Then she awoke with a ring on her finger and panicked. She’d just graduated from law school and was set to start work the next Monday for her boyfriend’s father.

But Caleb had felt so right. Still felt so right.

Sharon would kill me for being so sentimental.
The thought of her sister reminded her that she hadn’t heard from Sharon since they’d exchanged a brief text message after Lily landed in San Francisco the day before. That was so unlike her sister, a wave of concern altered the dangerous direction her thoughts had taken. Her sister had seemed distracted recently, as though something was going on just below the surface. Lily closed her eyes. What made her think she could help her sister with anything when she was hiding in a bathroom on the floor?

Lily took a deep breath and stood to face her reflection in the mirror. Her life had been planned out since she was sixteen. Sure there had been the occasional fantasy and maybe, after she established herself as a lawyer, some of those things she’d always dreamed about doing could be considered.

Leaning against the cold counter, she examined herself with a critical eye. Flushed cheeks, pupils dilated until they almost enveloped her pale brown eyes and long strands of dark hair had escaped from a messy bun to trail down her neck. Hardly the put-together business woman. Nope, she looked like a wanton female. Was Caleb still attracted to her? To the person inside, or did he see a convenient lay? She didn’t know him at all.
So why does it feel like we picked up right where we left off?