The Selkie Enchantress (11 page)

Liam shook his head, his gaze never leaving hers. “I need you to help me.”

Caitlin swallowed when his hand lingered in her hair, his fingers trailing down the side of her neck and sending warm shivers over her skin. “How?”

Liam lowered his mouth to hers, those sensual lips brushing over hers lightly at first, like the first whispered words between two lovers. “The same way they do in fairy tales,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and seductive. “With a kiss.”

A warm desperate yearning grew inside her when his mouth stayed on hers, nibbling, tasting, savoring the flavor of her. But there was still so much they needed to talk about. Pressing her palms to the hard muscles of his chest, she could feel his heart beating through the thin cotton of his shirt. She inched back, looking up into those intense blue-gray eyes. “But this isn’t a fairy tale. This is real life.”

“Is it?” He tugged her closer, fitting her curves to the hard planes of his chest. “Prove it.” He caught her mouth in a searing kiss. Rain pounded against the roof of the cottage. The wind caught the tangled chimes, forcing them into a crazy, chaotic song.

It was a test, she realized, sensing his insistence, his urgency. A test to find out how much he remembered. She could make him remember. She pressed her soft mouth to his, her lips parting when his hands twisted in the back of her sweater, yanking her against him.

***

Caitlin
. He drank in the taste of her, the warmth of her. A soft sound escaped from somewhere deep in her throat and he felt something stir, a ghost of a memory. He molded his hands over her curves, fitting her closer. The images unraveled, one by one, like white thread dripping from a spinning spool.

Caitlin
. Something snapped, coming alive inside him, and the memories,
their
memories came flooding back. He pulled her to him, claiming her mouth in a smoldering kiss. He heard her sharp intake of breath, felt her whole body stiffen.

His lips moved insistently over hers. He was sick of uncertainty. The only thing he was certain of was he wanted her. Now. A low primitive thrumming in his blood grew louder until she started to melt. Until she let out a helpless sigh and her hands inched up his arms, curling around the back of his neck, kneading into the muscles of his shoulders.

He inhaled the scent of vanilla and peat smoke, heard the sizzle and pop from the fire in the next room. He needed more of her. All of her. His fingers dug into her hips, guiding her back, step by step, until her back met the wall, until the soft swell of her breasts pressed into his chest. He wanted his hands on them. On every glorious inch of them.

The rain pounded against the roof. The wind howled through the streets. A soft moan escaped from somewhere deep in her throat and it set off something inside him. Something primal. He’d come for answers. But now that he saw her, all he wanted was release. Sweet, desperate release.

He caught her small wrists in one hand, caging her against the wall. A desperate, pagan need to mate drummed through him and he filled his palm with her throbbing breast. The traitorous tip hardened, pebbling with desire through the thin fabric of her shirt. He groaned, all the blood rushing from his head as he grasped her thighs, yanking her legs up so they caught around his waist.

She hooked her legs around him, clinging to him. His heart pounded in his ears. He could feel the heat radiating out from her. His hands molded the soft curve of her hips. His teeth scraped over her bottom lip and the taste of her shot into him like a drug.

The fire snapped as she peeled the dripping raincoat off his shoulders, pushing it down his arms. It fell with a soft splat on the wet floor and he pulled her off the wall. Caitlin’s hands reached out blindly, grabbing for the doorway as they stumbled through it, bringing a chair crashing to the floor with them as they tumbled to the rug in front of the fire.

He dragged her shirt over her head. He needed her naked. Under him. Now. He unhooked the clasp of her bra, drawing the stretchy waistband of her black cotton pants down her hips in one swift motion. He had her undressed before she could reach for his zipper. Rain smacked against the glass, a breathless steady rhythm. A growl tore from his throat as her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his jeans, as her small hands worked the denim down over his hips and he kicked off his boots, shook off his pants and the boxers that went with them.

He tugged his own wet shirt over his head with one hand, his silver claddagh cross dropping between them, pooling over her breasts. He followed the trail of the silver chain down, dipping his mouth to her swollen bud. She moaned, arching to meet him.

He slid the last thin scrap of material down her legs, circling the taut bud of her nipple with his tongue, separating her legs with his knee and sliding between them. Her breathing grew shallow. The furnace inside him flamed to life. Now. He needed her now.

She reached for him, pulling his mouth back up to hers. The kiss grew desperate. Needy. Her fingernails bit into his back as she moved her hips up to meet him.
Home
, he thought, blindly as he pushed himself inside her in one long desperate stroke.

He swallowed the gasp of pleasure that tore from her throat, covering her mouth with his, claiming her with a blistering, burning kiss as he buried himself deeper inside her. Her wet heat surrounded him, closing around him like a fist.

She shuddered, her head falling back, those rich red curls splaying out over the carpet as he started to move. Long deep strokes all the way in, and all the way out of her. The wind whipped against the cottage in frantic, furious lashes. Outside, the chimes spun wildly. The sound of something tearing, followed by a loud smack and splintering of wood rushed into the room.

She clung to him as the flames licked up the sides of the hearth. The fire grew, heating their tangled limbs as he moved in and out of her. She met him with every stroke, giving herself to him, every soft glorious inch of her melting into him, fitting against him like a lost puzzle piece locking into place.

Caitlin.

He felt the wave crest and build, gathering force as the rain battered the cottage. He moved faster, harder inside her. She clenched under him, her breath catching in needy gasps. “Liam,” she breathed when he stroked his palm over her aching breast, skimming it up over that spot at the base of her throat where her pulse hammered.

Her eyes fluttered open, a sea of emotions swimming into those sapphire pools. His hand curled around the back of her neck, dragged her mouth up to his as the wave crashed, pulling them both under in glorious, splendid release.

***

A restless rain drummed against the roof of the cottage. The scent of roses, sweet and seductive, drifted into the room. Caitlin stirred. Her limbs felt tingly, her body warm and sated despite the cold draft curling down from the chimney. The soft thump of the log breaking and sliding through the grate had her stretching like a cat. Luxuriating in the feel of a warm naked man wrapped around her, oblivious to the scratchy carpet rubbing against her skin.

Carpet? Caitlin’s eyes flew open. Naked man? Her entire body tensed. She tried to sit up. Liam’s arm, resting under the curve of her breasts, tightened around her possessively. No! Her heart pounded in her ears. She had not let this happen again.

She fumbled for her clothes strewn across the floor. She knew better. She’d been down this road before. She caught the hem of her stretchy black pants and clutched onto the damp material like a lifeline. Two years. She’d been avoiding him for two years so this exact situation would not happen. When his lazy hand reached out, catching hers and prying her fingers from the material, she squeezed her eyes shut. How? How could she have let this happen?

“Shhhh,” he murmured, covering her hand in his and tucking it back under them, nestling her back against him. Caitlin’s pulse raced. She stared at the broken log in the hearth. It was the same thing, every time. It was always like this between them. They’d stay up late talking, not even noticing when everyone else went to bed. But as soon as they realized they were alone one thing would lead to another and wham-oh! Can’t-rip-your-clothes-off-fast-enough, can’t-make-it-to-the-bedroom, drag-you-to-the-floor-because-I’ll-die-if-I-can’t-have-you-
right-now
sex.

Once. Just
once
in her life she wanted to make it into the bedroom with him. Was it really that much to ask? She untangled her legs from his, lifting his heavy arm and tossing it off her. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked so damn cute like that, with his hair mussed and his eyes all blue and after-sex dreamy. She glared at him, covering her bare breasts with her arm as she scanned the floor for her shirt. Not that it mattered. Not like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen them
plenty
of times.

She spied her shirt and crawled over him, snatching it off the floor. He grunted when her knee met his stomach. Good. She hoped it hurt. She’d had sex with other men over the years. A few of them were even pretty good at it. And
they
didn’t have trouble making it into the bedroom. It was only Liam. It was like the second his mouth met hers something happened to both of them and they lost all grip on reality.

She spotted her bra and grabbed it, shoving her arms through the straps. She didn’t want to lose her grip on reality anymore. She wanted more than this. She
needed
more than this. She thought he’d changed. That Dominic and Tara settling down had affected him. That maybe he wanted to settle down, too.

But he hadn’t changed. Nothing had changed! She jammed the clasp together behind her back, pulling the straps up and reaching for her shirt. “That was a mistake.”

“Was it?” Liam asked quietly. He sat up, watching her closely—his eyes a quiet pensive gray now rimmed in ocean blue. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Oh, really?” Caitlin shoved her arms into her shirt sleeves, jerking it over her head. “Because you make it a practice of rolling around on the floor with women in the middle of the day?”

“Caitlin.”

“I’m not just another one of your women.”

“My… women?”

“The ones you bring to the island,” Caitlin snapped. “A different woman every summer. Sometimes a different woman every weekend.” They were always the same. Skinny city bimbos who fawned over him. Who sat at the pub all night drinking fruity wine and flirting with the dreamy professor.

Slowly, Liam rose. He snagged the waistband of his jeans, dragging them up over his hips and watching her carefully. “I didn’t know you cared about that.”

Caitlin huffed out a frustrated breath. “Of course I care.”

“Those women mean nothing to me.”

“I know.” She stuffed her feet into her pant legs. “That’s why I don’t want to be one of them.” She jerked the waistband up. “That”—she gestured back to the floor—“should never have happened.”

“It’s not the first time,” Liam said quietly.

Caitlin’s hands stilled on the drawstring. She lifted her eyes to his. She saw the raw emotion in them and she took a step back. “You remember.”

He nodded.

“How much?” Her hands fell to her sides. “How much do you remember?”

“I remember that you’re the one who broke things off between us. And I’m having a hard time understanding why you’re so angry right now.”

Caitlin felt her breath whoosh out of her lungs. He remembered. “What else? What else do you remember?”

“I remember that we had a bit of a scare when we were younger. And I offered to stay here with you. To be with you. But when that scare turned out to be nothing, you said you didn’t have feelings for me. That I should go to university and forget what happened between us.”

His cross winked in the flickering candlelight, illuminating the long scars that seared into the taut muscles of his shoulders and chest. Scars from an awful childhood growing up with an abusive father. A childhood he and Dominic had escaped when they were only boys, when they’d run to this island to seek shelter with their grandparents.

Liam bent down, scooping his shirt off the floor and flipping it right-side out. “I left not too long after that. We
both
left if I remember correctly. But I’m still a little fuzzy on where
you
went.” He tugged the shirt over his head, dipping his hands in his pockets and watching her from across the room. “Care to fill in the gaps?”

“So…” Caitlin swallowed. “You’re only remembering bits and pieces?”

He nodded. “I still can’t remember what happened at the wedding this summer. Or anything about the date. But something happened before that, Caitlin. Something happened between us to make you angry. What was it?”

She lifted her hand slowly, touching her lips where she could still taste him and feel his desire. But it wasn’t real. None of it would be real until he got his memory back. “You need to see a doctor, Liam.”

“I don’t need to see a doctor.” He closed the distance between them. “I need you to tell me what happened.” He reached up, threading his fingers through her hair. “The only time I remember anything is when I’m with you.”

Liam remembered his feelings for her. How much he cared—
still
cared—for her. He didn’t have all the pieces yet, but the puzzle was starting to take shape. And every time a piece of that puzzle clicked into place he was certain of one thing. He wanted more of her.