Maid of Dishonor (8 page)

‘That feels so damn good,' he coaxed, urging her on, guiding her movements, the wild ride racing them both towards oblivion.

She cried out, her nails digging into muscle, her breathing ragged, the exquisite pleasure becoming too close to pain as she hurtled over—with him this time.

* * *

Gina let the blissful fatigue of afterglow wash over her as she collapsed on top of his big body.

Carter Price hadn't been boasting. He'd certainly perfected his technique since their first merry meeting, not to mention his stamina.

‘Damn, woman. That was something else,' he murmured as he swept the curtain of her hair away from his face, and kissed her.

‘Hmm,' she hummed in agreement, rolling off him.

She let out a weary laugh at his heartfelt moan as she crawled up the bed, her arms and legs more than a little shaky.

‘Hey, come back here,' he declared, as he hauled himself up. ‘Where are you going?'

‘Nowhere at the moment,' she replied as she flopped back onto the pillows, her whole body pleasantly numb. ‘You've rendered me senseless.'

‘Then we're even.'

She lay back on the stack of plump pillows, gazed out of the glass wall, and tracked the tiny lights of the tourist boats plying their trade across the bay. How foolish to think that this had ever been about anything other than sex.

Carter joined her, dragging the quilt folded over the foot of the bed up to cover them, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders to draw her to his side.

She would have objected to the possessive gesture. She generally didn't snuggle after sex. But she let it pass for now, because she wasn't entirely sure she was capable of coordinated movement. And he smelt delicious.

She rested her head on his shoulder as his arm tightened. And took in a lungful of that unique scent. Soap and pheromones and man, now layered with the tangy aroma of sex. She squeezed her thighs together, a little disturbed by the renewed pulse of arousal.

No way. She couldn't have another orgasm tonight. Or she'd pass out. Plus she needed to consider leaving soon.

His fingers delved into her hair, lifting and separating the strands and making her scalp tingle. ‘So now we've got proof,' he murmured, the words low and intimate in the dark room.

‘Proof of what?' she asked, around a huge yawn.

‘Proof our first time was no fluke.'

She stiffened, not liking where this might be leading. Or the confidential tone of his voice. ‘It wasn't my first time, remember,' she said. ‘It was yours.'

His hand stilled on the back of her head. ‘Why are you so hung up about that?'

She tapped her fingers on his chest. ‘Hung up about what?'

‘You know what. That you were my first.'

‘That's ridiculous, of course I'm not,' she said, but could hear that telltale hitch in her breathing. Damn, why couldn't she lie around Carter with any conviction? It was as if he had injected her with truth serum.

He remained silent for a while, making her wonder if maybe she'd got away with it, but then he said, ‘It wasn't that big a deal back then, and it sure isn't any kind of deal now.'

She levered herself up, stared down into his handsome face. ‘Then why were you getting all sentimental about “our first time” a minute ago?' She did air quotes.

His lips quirked, the sensual smile making her heart flip over in her chest. Damn it, why did he have to be so ludicrously sexy?

‘You mistake me, Gina.' He bunched her hair at the back of her neck and gave it a tug, forcing her head back and making her breasts more accessible. He covered one with his palm. ‘That wasn't sentiment.' His gaze drifted to her breast as he toyed with the nipple. ‘That was purely an observation about our sexual compatibility.'

‘I see...' The tension coiled in her abdomen as he rose up on his elbow, forcing her back into the pillows. She gasped as he captured the beaded nipple with his lips and drew it into his mouth. The hot flow of lust and endorphins charged into her sex, making her arch off the bed and the still tender spot between her thighs throb painfully. ‘Carter, stop,' she hissed, her hands fisting on the bed sheets. ‘I really can't do it again so soon...'

And how on earth could he?

‘Sure you can,' he countered, before getting back to the business of proving her wrong.

SIX

Gina winced at
the blast of light on her retinas, before awareness of the big body wrapped around hers yanked her the rest of the way out of dreamland. Slow, steady breathing stirred the hair on the back of her head, a heavy forearm lay across her midriff, and something indisputably long and solid nestled against her backside.

Good grief, I'm spooning with Carter Price—and he's hard as a rock. Again!

The memory of the torrid hours they'd spent before dawn came tumbling back. The man had the stamina and fortitude of a prize stallion—and he'd learned a great deal, in the years since she'd popped his cherry. She dismissed the foolish punch of her pulse at the realisation that while she might have been Carter's first, she certainly hadn't been his last.

No wonder she felt limp and sated—she edged across the mattress, testing the tender spot between her thighs—and frankly rather sore.

The heavy forearm tightened as a large hand cupped her breast and gave it a friendly squeeze. ‘Morning, sugar.'

The husky murmur, heavy with sleep, had her shifting round to glance over her shoulder.

‘You're awake?' With his eyes closed, his wavy hair delightfully rumpled, what looked like a two-day shadow on his jaw and his mobile mouth sporting the hint of a smile, it was hard to tell.

One eyelid lifted, the cobalt-blue gleaming in the light from the bay. His lips twisted into the full megawatt smile. ‘Can't you tell?' His erection nudged her bottom.

She laughed, a little nervously. ‘Forget it, Rhett. After the night we had, I'm not going to be operational for at least a week.'

The warm palm strayed from her breast to curl over her hip and stroke. ‘You sure about that?'

She wasn't, not in the slightest, if the heat surging through her was anything to go by, but she didn't plan to negotiate. Because where Carter was concerned, her will power came a very poor second to her libido. And unfortunately he knew it, from the wicked grin as the stroking hand migrated to her backside.

Swiping his hand away, she flung the quilt back and bolted off the bed. ‘I have to get going.' She checked the clock on his bedside table. ‘I'm meeting the Awesomes at a bridal boutique in Brooklyn at eleven for a bridesmaid's fitting and I can't be late.'

‘Now who's the spoilsport?' He propped himself on the pillows.

She scooped her now hopelessly wrinkled dress off the floor and held it over her nakedness, a little too aware of his patient watchful gaze as she hunted up the rest of her clothing.

‘Do you mind if I use your shower?' she asked, ignoring the sizzle in her breasts as he tucked a folded arm behind his head, apparently settling in to enjoy the show.

‘Sure. You want company?'

‘Better not,' she said quickly as the sizzle went into overdrive and she grabbed her bra from its resting place hooked onto the corner of the room's huge plasma TV. ‘I can't imagine sharing a shower with you will be particularly time efficient.' She spotted the remains of her Indian lace knickers and picked them off the satellite console. Heat flushed through her at the memory of Carter ripping them off her the night before.

‘Damn it.'

How on earth was she going to explain a complete absence of underwear to her pals in the changing room? It was already nine-fifty. She didn't have time to get all the way back to her apartment in Red Hook. Maybe she could stop off at a department store on the way to the Manhattan Bridge Overpass District, where Amber's boutique was situated? Or have a quiet word with Reese's friend when she arrived? Did bridal boutiques sell emergency underwear?

‘Will my sister be there?'

She stared at Carter, momentarily confused by the question until he added, ‘Could you get her to give me a call? We need to set up a meet while I'm in town.'

And then the stupidity of what she'd done hit her right between the eyes—like a cold hard slap, knocking the breath out of her lungs and making the back of her neck feel as if someone had yanked out all the small hairs.

The remains of her knickers dropped from her numbed fingers.

After six months of celibacy—and confining herself to the automative delights of Justin, her trusty vibrator—she'd come tumbling off the wagon with the one man guaranteed to screw up the friendship she'd spent most of the summer trying to repair.

Not that she hadn't considered this last night. Fleetingly, and through a haze of hormones.... But now, suddenly, it didn't feel nearly so defensible. Of course it wasn't any of Marnie's business who her brother slept with, especially now that Carter was a free man and no longer bound in matrimony to Marnie's best friend—and she very much doubted that even if Marnie knew about what they'd spent the night doing together she would make a fuss. She was far too mature and pragmatic and, well, polite for that.

But sleeping with Marnie's big brother again suddenly felt hopelessly tacky and immature.

It wasn't exactly a great way to restore Marnie's trust in her as a person and as a friend.... Nor would it do much for Marnie's already rocky relationship with her brother. Which Gina knew had been set on its current course as a result of their first indiscretion ten years ago.

‘What's the matter? Is it the panties?' Carter asked, then reached for the hotel phone. ‘Don't sweat it. I'll order you a new pair.'

‘No, don't, it's not that, it's...' She blinked at the tattered lace now resting on her big toe. Her stomach began to feel tight and achy, the way it always had in the past when she'd gone too far. She put her hand up, to stop him dialling the concierge. ‘Marnie
will
be there, at the boutique.'

‘Yeah, I know.' He didn't look remotely surprised or concerned as he placed the handset back in its cradle. ‘You said the Awesomes. That's what you guys used to call yourselves, right? You and Marnie and Reese and the mousy geek girl.'

‘Cassie's not a geek, she's just brilliant, and, considering she's about to marry Sam “Tuck” Tucker, the football player, I'd say mousy is the new hot.'

And they'd called themselves the Awesome Foursome, because their friendship had been Awesome. Awesome for her at least. Until that year in college, she'd never had any close female friendships—her mother had died when she was so young she didn't remember her and she'd always seen the other girls at school as competition. But during her year at Hillbrook she'd come to realise how important female friendships could be. And then she'd gone and torpedoed it.

But she wanted it to be Awesome again. Truly awesome. And that meant regaining Marnie's trust. But how could she do that, if Marnie found out about her and Carter?

‘The NFL quarterback?' Carter gave a low whistle, sounding impressed. ‘Still waters, huh?'

‘Yes, precisely,' she muttered, gathering her clothes to her breasts again, when Carter's gaze dipped noticeably.

‘Damn, are you sure you've got to run off? How about I text Marnie, tell her you're going to be late?'

‘No!' she yelped, she actually yelped—as all the blood headed out of her brain and exploded into her heart. ‘You can't do that.'

The crease on his brow became a furrow. ‘Why not? I've gotta arrange to meet her some time this week anyhow.' The sexy smile returned as he reached for the hem of her dress, gave it a playful tug. ‘And it'd give me time to order you up some new panties. And help you wash your hair.'

She yanked the dress out of his fingers. Was he completely insane? ‘You're not telling Marnie about this. About us. About last night,' she clarified when he continued to look at her as if she'd just sprouted an extra head. ‘You can't.'

‘Why can't I?'

‘Because I don't want her to know, obviously.'

‘Obviously. my butt. Why don't you want her to know? It's not like she doesn't know I have sex,' he added, apropos to absolutely nothing.

‘Yes, but she doesn't know you've just had sex with me, does she?'

‘Not yet, she doesn't.' He grasped her hand, dragged her back towards the bed. ‘But I don't plan to keep it a secret. Why would I?'

She tugged her hand free, cursing the heat shimmying up her spine. ‘Because Marnie doesn't need to know.'

‘That doesn't answer my question,' he said, an annoyingly astute look crossing his face.

‘Please, as a favour to me, Carter,' she said, trying her best puppy-dog pout. ‘Don't tell Marnie about us. I said some pretty hideous things to her when this happened the first time. And I really don't want to revisit that situation in any shape or form.'

He shrugged. ‘Okay, I guess it's no skin off my—'

‘Pinkie swear,' she begged, keen to get a commitment out of him. But when she demonstrated the technique by crossing her own pinkie over her heart and kissing the tip, his brows lowered ominously.

‘Don't push it, Carrington. I don't do pinkie swears.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because it's girlie and I'm a guy.' His lips lifted into a sly grin. ‘You want me to prove it?'

‘Absolutely not.' She stepped out of his reach, before he could kick off yet more sizzles and shimmies. ‘I have to shower. Alone,' she added for good measure when he chuckled.

She needed to make a quick getaway now—no matter how much she might be tempted to stay. Sleeping with Carter again had been a mistake, on a lot of levels, however great it might have felt at the time. Not least of which was that he was a man she didn't seem to be able to wrap around her finger as easily as every other man she'd ever dated. Getting him to say he wouldn't mention this to Marnie was the best she could hope for. They wouldn't be doing this again. As he would be safely back in Savannah by the end of the week, and she would be steering well clear of him—and his addictive pheromones—until then.

‘Aren't you forgetting something, sugar?'

She swung round at the laconic question. ‘No, I don't think so.'

‘My little sister's not as clueless about carnal relations as she used to be.' His gaze dipped pointedly to her bare bottom. ‘I'm guessing she may well figure out something's up when you show up with no panties on.'

He laughed, obviously enjoying her distress immensely.

‘Oh, go to hell...' she huffed, waltzing back towards the bathroom.

‘Your butt looks real cute when you're mad.'

She shot him the finger and slammed the bathroom door to cut off the sound of his full-bodied laughter. But as she dropped the dress and stepped into the enormous power shower her whole body started to shake.

Last night's activities had the potential to be a disaster.... Not just because Marnie might find out—but because she was going to have to keep well away from Carter for the next seven days. And after the night they'd just shared, that was going to be a very tall order.

‘What were you thinking?' she snapped at herself as the hot water hit her full in the face.

This didn't just have the potential to be a disaster, it already was one. And like every other disaster in her life so far, it was entirely of her own making.

* * *

Carter's laughter subsided as he picked up the hotel phone. ‘Give me the concierge.'

Damn, but she fascinated him. She got worked up about the weirdest things. Marnie wouldn't care about them now. His sister was hardly the starry-eyed little romantic she'd once been, any more than he was the big brother she'd once looked up to. And while he'd always regretted her finding out he wasn't the man she thought he was the way she had—he didn't see why he, or Gina, should have to tiptoe around Marnie's sensibilities now.

His kid sister had been living in New York for five years—making her own way in the big bad Yankee city and steadfastly refusing to let him have any kind of foothold in her life. He was proud of Marnie and what she'd achieved—even though he'd never tell her, because she'd only accuse him of patronising her. But the point was, she'd moved on, made a life for herself away from Savannah, and she sure as hell didn't care about his love life any more. So why was Gina so hung up on Marnie finding out about them?

He shrugged off the thought as he got patched through to the concierge. Women. Who knew why they got hung up on half the stuff they got hung up on?

He made the request to the concierge and included a powerful incentive if it could be fulfilled in the next twenty minutes. He figured if Gina was like all the other women he'd ever dated, it would be a miracle if she was out of the bathroom before then.

Listening to the sound of running water, he imagined that lush body slick with soap suds. Heat pooled in his groin, and his morning erection perked right up.

He had to head off to The Waldorf for a lunch meeting with some Chinese investors, so it was probably a good thing he hadn't been able to persuade Gina to blow off her friends.

Resigned to the fact that he'd have to take a rain check for their next booty call at least until tonight, he hunted up a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt from his suitcase. Dialling room service, he ordered breakfast and coffee and then stood by the glass wall to contemplate the awesome view—and the low-level hum of endorphins still cruising through his system.

He rubbed his palm across his midriff. He hadn't felt this sated and well rested and energised in years. Despite the fact that at a rough estimate he'd totalled about three hours' sleep in the last twenty-four.

And he gave Gina credit for that.

She really was his ideal sexual partner. He'd thought he'd been imagining how good they'd been together that night. But that night had only been a taster.

She was as wild and insatiable in the sack as he was, and even more wary of commitment out of it. He'd heard the caution in her voice when he'd asked any personal questions, felt her discomfort when he hugged her after sex, could tell she'd been reluctant to fall asleep in his arms, until he'd exhausted her—and himself. And he had a feeling this dumb notion about Marnie finding out was just another of her tactics for keeping a safe distance. She might even have persuaded herself her friendship with Marnie was a good excuse to call a halt to things.