Since I Saw You (11 page)

He jerked up her hips and ass and drove into her.
“C’est si bon,”
he hissed in pleasure as he fucked her at the divine new angle. He paused after a moment and grimaced at the halt of the intense friction. “Put your shoulders and head down on the cloak, baby. That’s right,” he praised, once again enthralled by the vision of her. Holding her hips up to his raging cock, he withdrew up and sunk into her again and again, his actions deliberate.

Perhaps a little ruthless.

Distantly, he became aware that he was likely putting too much pressure on her knees, but it felt
so
damn good. His only saving grace was hearing her sharp cry and feeling her muscular walls squeeze his driving cock as she climaxed a moment later. Her warmth rushed around him.

He saw red.

He rose to his feet, crouching over her. By lifting her hips to his thrusting cock and controlling her weight with his straining arm and legs muscles, he took some of the pressure off her knees while creating an optimal friction. He let go, fucking her in a frenzy of blind lust. The sound of their slapping skin outpaced his heartbeat in his ears. Nothing could have stopped him in that moment. He grasped for nirvana, taking one last savage thrust.

He crashed into her, holding tight. Orgasm hit, brutal and blistering, sparing neither of them. He wasn’t sure later if he’d continued to move, fucking her as he ejaculated, or if he’d been frozen in a rushing overdose of pleasure.

He only knew that as his orgy of need quieted, and his lust was appeased, regret began to worm its way into his awareness.

She kept her head lowered a minute later when he stood and helped her to her feet, the long, dark drape of her hair hiding her face. She started to turn away and lift her dress up over her breasts, but he stopped her.

“Lin?”

She didn’t move, her beautiful, thrusting bare breasts still rising and falling irregularly following their shared storm of lust. He used his free hand to push back her silky hair so he could see her face. She jerked her head away, but not before he saw what she tried to hide. Two tracks of tears shone on her flushed cheeks. Dread swept through him.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She swiped at the dampness and turned, finishing pulling up her dress. “Of course you didn’t hurt me. You must have . . . realized how much . . . I liked it,” she faltered.

It alarmed him, the strained quality of her voice. She was typically so controlled. True, she’d lost her temper with him this morning—deservedly so—but this break in her armor was much more alarming. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he demanded, sounding harsher than he intended, out of concern. He wouldn’t apologize for taking her under these circumstances. In his opinion, it was a natural conclusion to all the heat they’d been generating all day, as normal a progression as a storm breaking after the buildup of a hot, sultry day. But he did feel guilty for how forcefully he’d made love to her . . . how savagely . . .

“I just had sex with you on the cloakroom floor of a hotel—”

“There’s no one around—”

“With my boss dining just down the hallway,” she finished without pause. His mouth snapped shut. She stared up at him wildly. Desperately. He couldn’t say which. One thing was for certain: He’d run up against her walls again.

He dropped his hands. “So. Here we are. Back to Ian.”

She turned abruptly and began fastening the collar of her dress around her neck. She found her discarded panties. Unable to think of anything else to say to make her feel better, he removed the condom, found a place to dispose of it and grabbed his discarded clothing. The atmosphere in the small cloakroom seemed to take on a heavy, stifling weight as they both gathered themselves. Their separation and silence seemed especially glaring following their raw, uninhibited joining just now. It seemed a little bizarre that they’d both been frantically in the grips of lust only moments ago. He finished dressing first, seething as he watched her smooth her hair and apply some lipstick from her purse, her back turned to him the whole time.

She finally turned and met his stare calmly. His irritation mounted, but then disappeared in an instant when he looked down over her.

“Damn it. Your knees,” he muttered. Her delicate hosiery hadn’t torn, but the color of it was so sheer that he could see the skin of her knees was red and abraded.

Merde.
You rode her like a fucking animal.

“I’m going home,” she said quietly. His eyes widened with alarm as he studied her impassive, beautiful face. Her cheeks were still flushed from arousal and orgasm, but her skin looked especially pale beneath it. “Will you please tell Ian, Lucien, and Francesca that I felt a little unwell?”

“But—”

“Tell them. Please. I can’t show up looking like this.”

“I’m sorry about your . . .” He glanced down at her knees, regret swamping him. “I tried to take the pressure off them by standing, but—”

“I
know
you did,” she said. “I’m not blaming you. It’s my fault. I’m the one who let it happen.”

He made a disbelieving sound at that. “You make it sound like you agreed to a crime. We didn’t commit murder together,” he added darkly.

She closed her eyes. He flinched inwardly, seeing her discomposure. “You don’t understand. I don’t do things like this.”

“You obviously do now,” he said before he could stop himself. “Why is that such a problem?” She shot him an anxious glance and draped her wrap over her shoulders, covering herself.

“Lin, wait—” he called out when she moved past him. She unlocked the door. “We still need to talk.”

“I know. We still need to discuss the details of the Klinf meeting this weekend. I also need you to tell me all that you require for the first demonstration of your device for the Gersbachs. I’ll call,” she said.

And she was gone.

For several seconds, he just stared blindly up at the ceiling, replaying the last half hour of his life and trying to make sense of it, with not a modicum of success. They’d gone from combustible lust to uncontrollable, wild, blistering sex to Lin saying the only thing they had to discuss was business.

“C’est vraiment des conneries,”
he cursed bitterly before he stalked out of the cloakroom and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

•   •   •

The Coffee Boutique was hopping with customers when he arrived. He understood from Lucien that while Elise’s heralded new restaurant was the soul of their hotel, the coffeehouse was the heart of the thriving microcommunity. It was the comfortable living room of the luxurious establishment, a place where travelers, locals, and tourists alike lounged on deep couches and chairs and sipped premium coffees that had been individually prepared with chicory-roasted beans. They devoured mouthwatering confections made by Elise’s pastry chef. Some of the patrons read books and magazines they’d bought at the attached bookstore that specialized in first editions, rare books, and antiquities. Lucien must have spent about what Kam survived off of annually on the two space-age coffee makers behind the bar.

Not that Kam was focused on any of these niceties. His purpose was single-minded as he stalked into the energetic room. He saw Lucien exiting the coffee bar at the same time he was entering. He gave Kam a bland look as they met, and paused.

“What happened to you?” Lucien asked.

“What?”
Kam demanded sourly.

“You look like you’re about to kick someone’s ass. And your shirttail is hanging out,” Lucien added calmly under his breath as several patrons passed them.

“Merde,”
Kam muttered, shoving his shirt down into his pants. He never wanted to dress like this to begin with. He wouldn’t be trussed up in this damn suit if it weren’t for Lin.

“Did something happen with Gersbach?” Lucien asked.

“No. It went well with the Gersbachs.”

“Was Lin pleased?” Lucien asked, glancing in the direction of the lobby as if in search of her.

“What, my opinion isn’t good enough?” Kam growled.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed on him. “Trying to pick a fight?” he asked levelly, gray eyes as cool and sharp as a driving ice pick. “Pick a better target. I’ve got too much work to do at the moment. If you still feel like a spar tomorrow, give me a call and we’ll go a couple rounds at the gym.”

Kam rolled his eyes in mounting frustration when Lucien walked past him. His eldest brother was intimidating and tough, but it was his control that was already growing legendary in Kam’s mind.

He’d apologize to Lucien for his rudeness tomorrow. Tonight, he was done being a polite, powdered good boy. Lucien was right. He did feel like kicking someone’s ass just for the satisfaction of hearing his victim thump to the floor.

“Lin didn’t feel well and had to leave,” Kam said to Ian without any preamble when he approached the seating area where Ian and Francesca lounged. “She wanted me to tell you.”

“Oh no,” Francesca said, concerned. “Was she all right to go home by herself?”

“She seemed to think so.”

Francesca glanced at Ian with arched brows at Kam’s curt reply. She cleared her throat and stood. “If you two will just excuse me for a moment? I’ve decided that the baby’s favorite room is going to be the bathroom, as much time as he wants me to spend in there.”

“Have a seat,” Ian said quietly when Francesca walked away, nodding at the chair across from him.

Kam gave his brother a sidelong glare. “I’m not really in the mood for—”

“Sit down, Kam,” Ian repeated more succinctly.

“I said I’m not in the mood,” Kam repeated through a clenched jaw. “I’m not in the mood for any of this crap,” he said, waving in a frustrated manner around the luxurious, crowded coffeehouse.

Ian stood, his mouth set in a hard line. “Will you just sit down and talk to me for five minutes? Is it really that hard?”

“No, it’s not that
hard
,” Kam snarled. “I just don’t want to fucking
do
it.” Ian glanced aside and Kam noticed several people looking their way. They’d both raised their voices.

“Just for a moment?” Ian persisted in a level but determined tone. “Please?”

Kam sat, feeling cornered. He didn’t feel like being still. He had a wild urge to go back to the gym at his hotel and punish his body with a rigorous workout, or maybe go running for miles and miles on the lakefront—

“Did something happen with the Gersbachs?” Ian began, brows slanted dangerously.

“No.”

“Everything seemed to be going well. Francesca said everyone seemed mellow during the showing. From the little I glimpsed as you left the restaurant, I’d say Otto looked pleased. I thought you seemed all right as well. Lin certainly seemed happy. She must have gotten sick soon after that.”

Kam just stared at his brother, all signs of irritation gone from his face, all traces of
anything
vanished. Ian looked down at the coffee table between them and idly began flipping a sugar packet with his long fingers.

“I’m going to try to be careful about saying this, Kam. I hope you understand that I’m coming from a . . . sensitive place?” Kam didn’t reply, but he grew tenser in his chair. “Lin isn’t just an invaluable member of my staff. She’s a very good friend. I’ve known her since she was seventeen years old, you know.”

It wasn’t really a question, so Kam still didn’t reply.

“Lin hasn’t been all that fortunate with the men she’s dated in the past.”

He sensed the electrical thread in Ian’s seemingly neutral comment. He leaned forward in his chair. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, gaze narrowing.

“Just that. Very few men seem to have the ability to appreciate her character. Her refinements. Her sensitivities.”

“You make her sound like some kind of inbred show poodle,” Kam stated bluntly. He glanced impatiently around the confines of the coffeehouse, despising walls at that moment. “She’s a lot hardier than you make her out to be. Maybe you don’t know her all that well.”

“And you do?” Ian challenged, his quiet voice like steel. “Because I’d hate to see you put Lin in the same category as say . . . some of those
hardy
women you kept company with at Aurore, for instance.”

Kam’s gaze zoomed to meet his brother’s. Ian’s stare didn’t waver.

“Don’t get all holier-than-thou with me,” Kam seethed, shocked and infuriated at Ian’s reference. His brother had accidentally walked in on Kam engaging in the midst of some spontaneous recreation with two women last summer at Aurore. Ian had been circumspect enough not to mention the uncomfortable moment. That he brought it up now in association with Lin pissed off Kam royally. “Don’t try to convince me you led a monk’s existence before you met Francesca, because that’s just offensive. And Lin doesn’t have
anything, whatsoever
to do with that situation,” he emphasized by aggressively tapping his fingertips on the tabletop.

Ian’s gaze narrowed. Kam glared back. Finally, Ian exhaled.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said frankly.

Kam took his fisted hand off the table.
Merde
. He really didn’t want to fight with Ian. But dammit, why did he have to be so smug at times?

Because he usually knows exactly what he’s talking about, that’s why. He’s never given me bad advice before, and for whatever fucked-up reason, he seems to actually care.

And if he were in Ian’s shoes, wouldn’t he think of warning a guy like himself away from Lin? It was just common sense, wasn’t it? A woman like Lin would never find much worth for a man like Kam except for sex, and after tonight, she probably was second-guessing even that.

Kam heaved a sigh as well, feeling defeated, but not by Ian. The mounting tension between them had broken, although Kam wasn’t sure exactly why.

“Don’t bring Lin into this. It’s my fault. I’m the one that’s struggling with being here . . . this whole damn thing,” he mumbled, sinking back in his chair. “I’m a fish out of water.”

“If this particular line of business is unsuited to you, Kam, that’s something we can deal with,” Ian said quietly. “I don’t want that to be your sole focus here. This is your first visit to the States—to the city where Lucien and I have made our homes. Let’s make
that
the focus.”