Just Kiss Me (19 page)

More to come later.

HENRY UNLOCKED THE
French doors of the pink row house and pushed them open. He couldn’t help but recall the last time he’d walked into the courtyard behind him and found Vivien up to her elbows in mud, searching for something. Her bare legs wet from the rain and streaked with dirt. She’d looked small and vulnerable and gorgeous.

That was part of her appeal. Her charisma. The reason men around the world wanted Vivien Rochet.

God help him. He was one of them.

The sound of his boots heels seemed to bounce off the walls in the silent old home. It had been three days since he’d picked Vivien up from the airport and dropped her off at the carriage house. Three days since he’d looked into her green eyes and seen her confusion. Three days since he’d forced himself to walk away when it would have been so easy to wrap her in his arms instead. Easier still to dip his head and kiss her until she was breathless.

For three days he’d avoided Vivien because he wasn’t so sure he could walk away a second time.

The carriage house smelled of old wood and the new plaster he’d used to repair the wall. He didn’t know what Vivien planned for the historical house, but whether Vivien kept the house or sold it, the renovation had to be completed and inspected before SFN signed off on the project.

Despite the sluggish heat, there was a slight breeze and he left the doors open to chase away the stale air. He inspected the new plaster, then grabbed a flashlight. He got down on his knees and looked up into the chimney. Years of soot smudged the shoulder of his blue T-shirt and the knees of his Levis.

He shined the beam of light at the old bricks, looking for any sign of water. The night he and Spence had supper with Nonnie and the church ladies, she’d volunteered him to pick Vivien up from the airport when he’d had no intention of putting himself anywhere near temptation. Yet just as he and his brother had been preparing to leave, his mother had volunteered him as some sort of preemptive strike out of fear Spence would make the offer first.

If not his mother, he wouldn’t have picked Vivien up at the airport beside a ridiculous pile of overpriced luggage and a beefy security concierge. He wouldn’t have stared at her red lips just beneath the dip of her big straw hat. He wouldn’t have smelled her perfume and been reminded of the night she’d spent in his bed. Okay, he didn’t need her perfume to remind him. His thoughts turned to Vivien whether he wanted them to turn or not.

He slid the beam of light up the flue. He was tired of being the family fix-it-guy. Tired of keeping secrets and the burden of knowing them all. Tired of the guilt.

He slid the light and inspected the bricks on the left. He was almost certain Vivien would sell the house. There really was no reason for her to keep it. She didn’t live in Charleston and there was nothing here for her now that her momma was gone. After she packed up the carriage house, there was nothing more for her to do. Everything else could be handled by realtors and brokers. Two weeks, maybe three, and she’d be gone, too.

All he had to do was avoid her like a plague of chiggers.

“Are you looking for Santa?”

The flashlight slipped from his hand and he smacked his head into the bricks. “God
damn
!” he swore.

“Sorry.”

He ducked from beneath the chimney and his gaze landed on Vivien’s shiny red shoes and bare legs. She wore a black skirt and red blouse and if he looked hard enough, he could see the outline of a red bra. She had a deep green leaf stuck in hair next to her left ear as if she’d ducked under a tree. He smiled. He couldn’t seem to help himself. Must have something to do with the knock to his head.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You startled me.” He stood and brushed soot from his jeans. “It would take someone bigger than you to scare me.”

“I just met with the executor of Momma’s estate.” She set her purse on the sofa covered in a drop cloth. “Everything was fairly easy. There were no surprises.” A frown pulled at her brow. “Except that the carriage house in now mine. I’d have thought she’d leave it to your mother. It was hers before she gave it to Momma.”

He didn’t correct her. “What are your plans for this house?”

She let out a breath and looked around. A breathy little sound like when he’d kissed her neck and behind her ear, and she’d liked it. “Sell it.” She glanced up at the molded ceiling. “It’s a beautiful house. Someone should live here that loves it,” she said.

His gaze slid down her chin and throat to the top button of her blouse resting between her breasts.

“Someone who likes living in a money pit.”

“That someone isn’t you, Henry?” He’d kissed her just above that button too.

“No. I prefer modern plumbing and design.” She returned her gaze to his. “When do you think you’ll be done with the renovations?”

“Your mother had a real fluid timeline and she kept changing her mind about what she wanted done.” He tossed the flashlight next to her purse. “I have to finish the handrails and crown molding in the master bedroom. I should wrap that up in a week, maybe two.” He took several steps toward her before he reminded himself not to. “What do you want to do with the dining-room table and chairs?” He lifted his hand, and his fingers brushed her hair as he pulled the leaf from a soft curl.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head and her cheek brushed his palm.

“This belongs to you,” he said and handed her the leaf.

“Henry?”

He stuck his hands in his pockets before he gave into temptation and ran his fingers through her hair. Vivien was beautiful and he was ridiculously attracted to her. Standing here in the red silky blouse that was almost see-through, and her red shoes that put her lips just beneath his, he fought the temptation to kiss her. To run his hands up and down her back and butt and feel her small hands on him. To catch her soft moan in his mouth, and the taste of desire on his tongue. “Yes?”

She twirled the stem of the leaf between her fingers then looked up at him out of the corners of her green eyes. “I think we should talk about the other night.”

“We should forget the other night happened.”

A frown pulled her brows together. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“Of course.”

“Are you going to able to forget?”

Never.
“Forget what?”

She tilted her head to one side and he should have recognized the look in her eyes, but he was thinking up his next lie when she said, “Do you really think you can forget lifting me on top of your kitchen island?”

“What kitchen island?” He knew what she was doing. He knew her tricks; he was wise to her pushing and provocations. He also knew he couldn’t let her push him into doing something stupid. Like giving in to the desire raging in his pants.

“The granite island where you stripped off my panties and kissed me all over.”

“I didn’t kiss you all over.” There were parts he’d like to kiss. Soft, slick parts that made him so hard he couldn’t stop thoughts of putting his mouth there.

Her eyes got a little squinty. “You kissed me all over then carried me to your bed like a caveman.”

At the moment he felt like a caveman. Like there was a real thin thread keeping him standing upright instead of bending her over and getting primeval.

She poked him in the chest with her finger. “Don’t act like I’m disposable. Like I’m just one more woman in the revolving door of your love life. Like I’m easily forgotten.”

He lowered his gaze to her finger on his chest. She was pushing and he was teetering.

“Henry.”

He lifted his gaze. Teetering at the edge, stretching the thread close to a perilous snap. “What?”

She smiled, a sexy little tilt at the corners of her red lips. “You remember. I can see it in your eyes.”

“What you see is pity. I feel sorry for you on account of you being coyote ugly.”

“Are you about to chew your leg off?”

“Thinking about it, yeah.”

“I hate it when you do that.”

“What?”

Her eyes got serious. “Treat me like I’m doing something bad. It makes me want to poke at you.”

“I know.” Just a kiss. A kiss wasn’t sex. “I know that about you.” He lowered his mouth to hers. “I’ve always known that about you.” Her breath hitched in her chest and she kissed him back, soft and passionate like the other night. And just like the first time, the kiss caught fire and turned carnal. Wet and feeding, sucking out reason. Right and wrong, guilt and consequence turned to ash beneath the scorching need racing across his skin and making him so hard he had to lock his knees to keep from falling. He lifted his face, “Stop me before we can’t stop.”

Her hand slid down his chest to the front of his jeans. “Too late.” She brought his mouth back to hers and the thread keeping him from going caveman snapped. She caressed his erection through the denim as his big fingers fumbled with the tiny buttons closing her shirt. He gave up halfway down and pulled the blouse over her head. The skirt fell to the floor without much effort and she stood before him in her red underwear and tall red heels.

“God Vivien,” he managed as she pulled at his button fly. “You’re killing me with the red bra and panties.”

“You like?”

He hooked a finger beneath a red satin strap. “I love.”

As she pulled at his belt, he lowered his face to the curve of her neck and opened his mouth against her soft skin. She smelled of flowers and he kissed his way across her shoulder. She slid her fingers beneath his boxers and wrapped her hand around his erection.”

“You’re hard, Henry.” She moved her palm down and brushed her thumb across the head of his penis. “You must have a thing for coyote ugly.”

“I have a thing for you.” He grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her. Her back arched and he buried his face in her cleavage. He rubbed his cheek against her breasts and sucked her hard nipples through the slick silky bra. He loved her small breasts. In his hands. Mouth. Against his chest.

“Let go.”

He did as she wanted and she reached for the front of his pants. She pulled and unzipped and shoved her hand inside. Her soft palm wrapped around his dick and he nearly lost control. He loved the touch of her soft hands on him. How she let him know how much she wanted him. He’d been with women who’d wanted to be with him because of his last name and family connections. Vivien wanted neither of those things. She wanted him in spite of his name and he wanted her in every barbaric beat of his heart. In the place deep in his soul that made him want to beat his chest and jump on top of his woman.

He spun her around to face the couch. Then he bent her over and she grabbed the back of the colonial sofa. He pushed her panties down her legs and palmed her smooth behind. He pulled a condom from his wallet as his Levis slid down his legs. The belt buckle hit the floor with a thud as he tossed his wallet on the couch. “Spread your feet a little bit for me,” he said as his underwear joined his pants and he rolled the condom down his shaft.

Her high red shoes brought her to the perfect level and he slid his hand over her bottom and between her legs. She was wet and ready and moaned deep in her throat as he teased her slick flesh. Her back arched as he positioned himself, and his hands grabbed her around the waist as he slid into the hot pleasure of her body. She was incredibly tight around him, and he pulled almost all the way out before he sank so deep her bottom pushed against his thighs. He leaned forward and kissed the side of her neck. “You feel good, Vivien.”

Her response was to push her bottom against him, wanting more. He gave it to her in long powerful thrusts. He drove inside again and again, his pulse pounded in his head, he held himself back until he felt the first tightening pulse of her orgasm. His own orgasm curled and tugged and burned deep in his belly. He wanted more. He wanted her and he thrust hard. A deep guttural moan climbed up his throat as fiery liquid heat surrounded him. The most intense pleasure he’d ever felt in his life ripped through his body and he closed his eyes. It spread fire across his skin, grabbed his insides, and stole his breath. His flesh surrounded by hers. His heart pounded and he could hardly breathe. He should pull out. He couldn’t. Not just yet. The condom broke and he was surrounded by paradise. A hot slick paradise that nearly buckled his knees. The last time he’d touched paradise had put him through hell.

IF PANIC HAD
form, it would look like Henry. He yanked his T-shirt over his head, and Vivien looked down at the covered buttons of her red blouse. When he’d crawled out of the fireplace earlier, he’d given her a smile she’d never seen before. Not like the smile he’d given her the day of her mother’s funeral. The one filled with mega-watt charm and bullshit. The smile he’d given her earlier had touched the corners of his eyes and made her feel as if she was the only woman on the planet, as if she lit up his life when she walked into a room. As if he smiled just for her, but he wasn’t smiling at her now.

“Tell me you’re on birth control.”

Vivien glanced up and left her blouse untucked. “I don’t take birth control.” It made her gain weight and become bloated and she couldn’t fit into her metal bikinis. “I always insist on a condom.”

“Shit.” He put his hands on the sides of his head like he wanted to crack his skull.

Just moments ago, she’d felt wrapped up in warmth and desire. Now he was distant and cold and looked at her like he used to. As if she’d done something wrong, like breaking his condom on purpose.

“I won’t get pregnant.”

He looked at her and dropped his hands. “How can you be sure?”

“I have irregular periods. It kind of runs in my family.”