Temptation's Kiss (4 page)

“That’s funny… It’s almost exactly like my bed at home.” She turned to him, catching his grin. “Wait a minute.
You
did this?”

He shrugged, setting the suitcase on the luggage rack against the wall. “I just asked if they had a canopied bed. I thought you’d be more at home. It’s no big deal.”

She looked at him long and hard. “It’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stood there, eyes locked, the air thickening between them. Inside, Kane was at war with himself. He could cross the space between them, have her in his arms in less than ten seconds, finally feel her body pressed against his.

But nothing had changed. She was still Lily Montgomery. Still too good and pure for someone like him. For the life he could give her.

“Well, I better be going,” he said. “Give me a call when you’re ready to come back to the house tomorrow. I’ll come get you.”

“Thank you, Kane. I appreciate all you’ve done for me,” she said softly.

“It’s nothing.” His voice was gruff as he turned away, his throat thick with unspoken words.

“Kane.” Her voice came from behind him.

He turned. “Yeah?”

She opened her mouth, seemed to want to say something more, then shook her head. “Nothing. Thank you again.”

He hurried into the hall, not sure whether he’d made a narrow escape—or the worst mistake of his life.

Ten

The room felt empty with him gone. Lily stood there, arms crossed over her chest, wondering when she’d gotten so used to his presence. When their friendship had become physical attraction, their physical attraction something even more.

She sighed and opened the suitcase, her gaze falling on the silky purple concoction from La Perla. Bringing it had been impulsive. Maybe she just wanted to feel sexy. To feel like a woman instead of some delicate figurine meant to be seen and not touched. If she could only do it in the privacy of her own room, so be it.

She stripped off the navy dress she’d thrown on after the flood, letting the blue silk fall to the floor. Then she took off her bra and panties, a delicate ivory set from one of her favorite lingerie boutiques in the city.

She slid the purple thong up her legs and slipped her arms into the dainty spaghetti straps of the bra, hooking it in the front. Then she went to the full-length mirror and surveyed her reflection, turning this way and that to get a view from all angles.

It was gorgeous. The deep purple set off her milky skin and contrasted with her blonde hair. The bra, so low cut only a filmy piece of violet tulle prevented her nipples from showing, pushed her breasts up and out.

She turned around, marveling at the way the thong—together with the black heels she’d been wearing with the navy dress—made her legs look a mile long despite her barely 5’2” height.

But the velvet bow was the crowning touch. Tied right above her ass, it was an extravagant punctuation mark to the firm roundness of her body.

It was a bow begging to be undone.

She sighed, stifling a wave of loneliness. She didn’t need a man to feel sexy. She was in a beautiful hotel room wearing luxurious, opulent lingerie, a giant curtained bed awaiting her. She would enjoy every minute.

Making a sudden decision, she threw on the matching robe and went to the hotel phone and ordered a bottle of champagne. What was it Scarlet sometimes said? Go hard or go home.

While she waited for room service, she went to the bed, looking for the train case that held her hairbrush.

Which was right about the time she realized the case was missing.

She went into the bathroom to see if Kane had left it there. No such luck. She thought back to when they’d left the house. He’d definitely had it in his hand. It had to be in the back of the Land Rover.

She sat on the bed, debating her options. She could call Kane to come back with it. He would bring it to her. She knew he would.

But it had taken every ounce of willpower to let him go the first time. Could she trust herself to let him go again? To do what was best for him, even if he didn’t know it yet?

On the other hand, she felt crippled without the train case. It held her brush and her make-up, even her cleanser and toothbrush. The hotel was probably too small to have a gift shop. Did they have a concierge who could run to a drugstore and pick up some supplies for her?

A knock prevented her from answering the question. It was room service with her champagne, and she stood back as the waiter wheeled a curtained table, complete with a pink rose next to the bottle in the ice bucket, into the room. She signed the receipt and waited for him to leave before pouring herself a glass, taking a moment to savor the bubbles that tickled her nose before she took a drink. Then, on second thought, she finished the glass in one long swallow.

Go hard or go home, indeed.

She was pouring a second glass when another knock came from the door. Had she not given the waiter the receipt? She set the glass on the bedside table and went to the door, feeling a little silly in the heels. The guy probably thought she had some kind of hot date.

But when she opened the door, it wasn’t the waiter on the other side of it.

It was Kane, holding her train case, a look of torment in his blue eyes.

Eleven

He’d considered not coming back. Had driven miles, the train case visible in the backseat, counting the ways he could avoid returning to the hotel.

He could send someone else back with it.

He could hire a messenger service to take it back.

Hell, he could just lie. Say he didn’t notice it.

Anything to avoid facing Lily again. To avoid walking away from her again.

But in the end, he’d been pulled back to her like a bee to honey. He didn’t even pretend that he was going back to deliver the train case. One clean getaway for the night was lucky. He didn’t delude himself that it would happen again.

And even if he had, it would have been over the second she answered the door, the silk robe tied around her waist, the lacy purple bra peeking out from the gap, her mouth half-open in an expression of surprise.

Had she been expecting someone else? The thought made him see red, and for a minute, it was like paint, pouring down the sides of his brain, obscuring everything but his need to pummel anyone who might see her like this.

Anyone but him.

“Kane?”

He crossed the threshold and dropped the train case on the floor. Then he turned and shut the door.

He stood there for a minute, his back to her, telling himself to move slowly, to be gentle despite the hunger already moving through his veins at the sight of her.

He felt her hands on his back a moment later. They moved slowly up his spine, separating at his shoulder blades as she ran her palms over his biceps. Her body was an enticing fire against his back.

“Look at me, Kane,” she said.

He turned to face her. She was so close, her silk robe brushing his denim-clad leg, her breath moist against his chest, her eyes tidal pools promising a thousand mysteries.

She took his hand and placed it inside her robe. The swell of her breast under the lace of her bra made him instantly hard.

“Don’t you want me?” she asked softly.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t I …” He moved closer, pulling her against him so she could feel his erection.

She gasped, and he ran his fingers through the hair at the back of her neck, tipping her head back to reveal the milky flesh of her throat.

“I want you, Lily. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

He lowered his face to hers. Stopping just short of her mouth, he closed his eyes and breathed her in, her scent combining with the arousal that seemed to permeate the air. Her chest, rising and falling against his body as her breath came short and fast, sent him over the edge.

He lowered his mouth to hers, chastely as first, wanting to memorize the feel of her velvety lips.

But it couldn’t last long. The contact sparked a flame that had been building for weeks, and lust moved through his body like a shock wave as she pressed against him, every curve and swell of her molded to him like a leather glove.

He parted her lips, exploring her hot, moist mouth, dipping and sweeping, running the tip of his tongue along the slick inside of her cheek, teasing and flirting as she met him parry for parry.

He reached down without pulling his mouth from hers and untied the robe, pushing it off her shoulders until it fell to the floor in a silken puddle. Then her smooth, creamy body was against him, his erection pressing painfully against his jeans.

He backed her up against the wall, more forcefully than he’d intended, his need for her blurring what little reason he had left. He tried to back up a little, wanting to be careful, but she pulled his head down to hers, wrapping a leg around his waist, making it clear that careful wasn’t what she had in mind.

It was all the encouragement he needed, and he wrapped her other leg around his waist, lifting her off the ground, pushing her up against the wall. His mouth found hers again, his hardness meeting the soft spot between her spread legs, only the satiny fabric of her thong and the denim of his jeans between them.

“Take me, Kane,” she gasped. “Take me now.”

The wonton words almost obliterated the last of his restraint. But he wouldn’t take her. Not like this. He would first worship at the temple of her body, learn every inch of her with his hands, his mouth.

He carried her to the bed, their kisses hot and frantic, her legs still wrapped around his waist. When he got her to the big curtained bed, he peeled her arms from around his neck and laid her gently on the mattress.

She lifted her arms to him, her eyes cloudy with desire he still couldn’t believe was there.

“Hurry, Kane.” She writhed on the bed, her hips lifting off the coverlet until he could almost feel himself sliding into her.

He tugged off his shirt and kicked off his shoes, pausing to pull a condom from his wallet. He tossed it on the nightstand and peeled the denim from his legs, pleasure and pain flooding his body as his throbbing erection was released.

Then he was next to her, her female softness finally against him.

Twelve

She was on fire, every inch of her body alive in a way it had never been before, her nerve endings crackling with heat and energy.

His body was magnificent. She had caught sight of the ink on his back when he’d taken off his shirt, had found surprisingly erotic the Guard symbol etched between his shoulder blades.

Then he was facing her again, massive biceps and a sculpted chest narrowing to a tight waist, a trail of dark hair traveling from his navel to his significant erection. The sight of it, hard for her, made her even wetter than she already was, her core throbbing with the need to feel him push into her, fill her with his manhood.

He lay next to her, his lips leaving sparks as he moved from her mouth to her ear, sucking and nipping at her earlobe, branding the sensitive skin at the side of her neck as his tongue moved to her collarbone, the hollow of her throat.

She was out of her mind, no longer in control of her body as she writhed against him, running her hands along his chest and arms, reaching down to wrap her fingers around his hard, smooth shaft.

He moaned, letting her touch him for only a few seconds before he gently removed her hand.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered.

He shook his head, his blue eyes swimming with equal parts torment and pleasure. “You have no idea how much I want your hands on me, Lily. But if you keep touching me like that, I might not be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

He lowered his head to her chest. “Not stopping. Savoring.”

He kissed his way to her breasts, pushing back the lace and tulle of her bra until her nipples were revealed, pink and rigid, above the fabric.

“Oh, Jesus, Lily …” he breathed.

He took one of her nipples in his mouth and something ignited between her legs. She thought her whole body might catch fire, the sensation so foreign, so overwhelming, she could hardly stand it.

He licked and lapped, alternately sucking on the pink bud and circling it with his tongue. Her body moved of its own accord, her back arching, hips rising off the bed. He reached behind her, lifting the small of her back as his mouth made its way to the other breast, as if he couldn’t have it in his mouth fast enough. As if he couldn’t get close enough to her.

She knew the feeling, and she moaned as he fastened his mouth on her before moving down the flat of her stomach, trailing kisses until he pulled back the thong, sliding it down her legs and tossing it aside.

He paused, gazing at her like he was trying to memorize every inch of her body before he gently parted her legs. She heard the intake of his breath as her womanhood was revealed.

He lowered his head, tenderly kissing the inside of her thighs, slowly moving upward from the space near her knee until she could feel his hot breath on her center. Lightening shot through her veins as his tongue found her, hot and wet.

He lapped at her core, exploring every inch of her until she was moaning without shame, without restraint, dying for him to fill her with his hardness.

She touched his hair, silky under her fingers, as he tongued her hot center. He circled her tiny blossom with his tongue, drawing it up and out over and over, a volcano of passion building and building until it was finally let loose, an explosion of pleasure rocking her body.

She cried out, lost to everything but the inferno inside her, the feel of his mouth against her wet womanhood as she came against his mouth.

She was trembling when he rose, sliding up and over her, pausing to grab the condom from the nightstand, tearing it open and throwing the wrapper aside, his eyes wild with desire. He paused between her legs, and she grabbed his hips, looking into his eyes.

“I’ll die if I don’t feel you inside me, Kane.”

He groaned, positioning his tip against her slickness until she gasped. She didn’t take her eyes off him as he slid into her, stopping only when he reached resistance.