Unbreak My Heart (24 page)

"A glass of sherry."

He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights, so they had nothing but the faint light from the hallway, but she could see the concern in his expression.

"And you had two and a half glasses of wine with dinner."

Had she? She hadn't kept track, was surprised to find that he had. "I'm not drunk, Stephen."

His thumb brushed the darkened skin below her eyes. "You're tired."

She nodded. Tired, deliriously warm and aroused, her head spinning just a bit, but that was more from him than the wine.

"I'm not drunk," she said again, lifting her hand to his face and pulling him to her. He kissed her again, those sweet, deep, drugging kisses that had her tingling all over and deliriously warm once again. "Stay with me tonight, Stephen."

He groaned.

"Would that be so wrong?" she asked. "I have to admit, I'm not very good at this. I'm not sure of the proper procedures here..."

"Procedures?"

"Of two people who don't know each other that well going to bed together."

"There's no reason you should be," he said, sounding thoroughly irritated. "And it's certainly not something I'm going to explain to you."

"You want me," she said, but somehow it came out like a question.

"God, yes," he said. "But I'm not going to take you to bed with me tonight."

Still, he leaned over her and kissed her slowly, soothingly. His hand skimmed down her throat. He palmed her breast for a moment, his fingers spread wide, his touch as gentle as it was arousing. She put her hand over his, to keep it there, to keep him close.

"Allie," he said raggedly. "It's going to be hard enough to walk away from you, as is."

"Then don't," she urged, ready to plead with him if that's what it took.

"You need to think about what you want."

"I've done nothing but think and worry since I got here," she said. "I don't want to do that anymore."

"This morning you hated me, and God knows, you had the right."

"I don't hate you," she said. "I can't."

"But you don't know me. Not well enough for this."

Her face burned at that. She couldn't quite believe he was calling a halt to this. In her admittedly meager experience with men, they took what was offered, took it eagerly and without any twinge of conscience.

"I'll still be here tomorrow and the day after. I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I want you to be sure, Allie."

She groaned and turned her face away, humiliation soaking through her.

He sat there beside her for a long time. She hoped he'd change his mind, that he'd stay, but all he said was, "Will you be all right here?"

"Of course I will," she lied.

He stood up, looked around the darkened room, then back to her. "Allie, why are you sleeping down here?"

Damn.
He saw too much.

"It's comfortable," she lied.

"There are five bedrooms in this house, and I assume five beds. Are you telling me there isn't a comfortable one in the bunch?"

She waited there in the darkness, not wanting to admit how foolish she'd been, coming here for answers and then finding herself afraid to look for them.

"Why do you want me to stay so badly?" he asked.

"I thought it was obvious...."

She wanted to die. Her pleasantly warm buzz from the wine was gone, and she wasn't so sleepy anymore, just mortified. He'd come frighteningly close to figuring out her motivations in calling him this afternoon and asking him to spend the evening with her. But somewhere along the way this evening, she'd known she didn't simply want to lose herself in a man. She wanted to lose herself in
him.
Allie wasn't the kind of woman to go to bed with a man just because she was feeling lonely and afraid. She was too reserved to use sex as a substitute for companionship.

"Don't lie to me. Not about this." He turned back to her, pinning to the spot with the look in his eyes. "Has something else happened here? In this house? Something that frightened you?"

"No."

"You're afraid to be here. God, I didn't know it was that bad."

"It isn't. I'm being silly," she lied.
Damn.

"Why did you want me to stay?"

"I thought it's what you wanted," she said because she needed to hear him say it so she could believe it herself.

"It is, but this isn't just about me and what I want. This is about you, too, and I think you really don't want to be here by yourself. Enough that you'd go to bed with me?" He looked pained by the idea. "So you wouldn't have to be alone?"

"I don't sleep in the bed, remember?" she said bitterly, humiliated beyond belief, then forced herself to go on. "And you're right. I didn't want to be alone tonight. But I haven't been with anyone in a long time. It's not something I take lightly."

"I didn't think you did," he said.

"And I would never..." She broke off, heat infusing her cheeks at the mere suggestion that she'd have sex with a man so casually. Intimacy was right up there on the same plane with trust in her book, and he knew all about her trust issues. Which should have told him everything he needed to know. Just in case it didn't, she forced herself to say the words. "I wanted you."

"Oh, Allie." He could make her name sound like a painful thing, as if he hurt for her. He made it sound as if he would take her pain and make it his to bear if he could. "I'm sorry. You tried to tell me this morning, and I just didn't realize. If I had known it was this hard for you to be here, I never would have left you here by yourself for the last five days."

"I can handle it," she said. "I just don't like the stairs. Or the bedrooms."

He turned away and swore softly again and again, shaking his head.

She reached for him, pressing her palms against his chest, feeling the heat and the reassuring beat of his heart. "Stephen, it's okay. I'm dealing with it. Maybe not well, but..."

"No. It's my fault. I'm rushing you. I know everything's a little crazy for you right now. I shouldn't push."

"You're not. Tonight... it just happened, and it was what I wanted, too."

"Too soon," he insisted. "But it won't always be like this, Allie. Things will calm down, and I'll be right here. We'll figure all of this out. Everything that's between us. I promise."

She felt hot tears pooling in her eyes and rushing down her cheeks. He had no idea how much she wanted to believe him. He sat down beside her and hauled her into his arms, holding her gently and stroking her hair, warming her with his body, reassuring her with his presence.

A long moment later he took her face in his hands, and said, "This is silly. You don't have to be here. Come home with me. I have five bedrooms, too. You can take your pick. Or you can sleep with me if you want. I won't touch you. Or, I will, but I won't do anything else. I can handle that, I think."

"Stephen... No."

"This place frightens you, and I'm not leaving you here."

"If I leave now, I may never come back."

"You can come back tomorrow, in the daylight," he said.

"Like a little girl? Afraid of the dark?" Allie thought of the loathsome, spineless creature she'd always been, the one who went along with everything, who always took the easy way out. She never wanted anyone to see her that way again, especially not Stephen.

"You're one of the most determined women I've ever met," he said.

"No, I'm not."

"You are. This place scares you to death, but you're still here. You're still fighting it, and I admire that about you, Allie."

"Stephen, I'm a coward. I've been one my whole life."

"A coward wouldn't have come here. She wouldn't have stayed," he said. "And you've got to stop beating yourself up over what you've done in the past. You did the best you could. And you're not the only one who's ever made a mistake. God knows I've made my share of them."

"You? You're perfect. And you're always right."

"No, I'm not."

"I think you're one of the best people I've ever known," she whispered.

"You don't know me that well, remember?"

"So tell me. Tell me all about the Stephen Whittaker I don't know."

"Tomorrow, all right?" He sighed. "I'm tired. You're tired. Come with me. Come to my house."

"I can t."

"Of course you can. It's a hundred yards away. We'll be there in two minutes. I'll carry you to the bed of your choice."

"I'm staying here, Stephen. I have to."

"Okay. I'll stay here with you. Invite me to stay."

"I feel so foolish."

"What if I want to stay? What if I want you curled up beside me, your body touching mine all over? What if I want to wake up here with you?"

"Well, when you put it that way..."

He was already loosening his tie, pulling off his belt, then his shoes.

It was a tight fit, the two of them curled onto the sofa this way. He shifted her around until she was practically lying on top of him, his body all hard muscles and heat, and the kind of strength she'd never known. She felt absolutely safe here with him and still terribly aware of him, of every rise and fall of his chest, every stroke of his hands along her back.

She knew he was still keeping something from her. But she needed him, and this felt so right. She'd taken so little on faith in her life, had missed out on so much. She didn't want to miss this, didn't want to miss him.

He shifted once again, and one of her legs fell between his, his thighs warm and hard. Her left leg shifted higher into the notch made by his thighs. He sucked in a breath when she realized he was still fully aroused, the hard length of him now nestled against her thigh. She was just as aroused, she realized. That quickly, that unmistakably.

Stephen groaned and pressed her head against his chest. "You're not an easy woman to resist."

She thought he'd done an admirable job of it so far, but if she told him that, they'd argue again, and she liked this spot too much to surrender it to an argument she wouldn't win anyway. So she stayed where she was and didn't contradict him.

"This is nice," she said instead, feeling sleepy and strangely content, just to know he wanted her, too, just to have him here.

"Go to sleep, Allie. I'll be right here."

And she drifted off in his arms.

Chapter 12

Allie woke in the wonderfully warm cocoon made by his body and hers. There was an afghan pulled over them both. She was sprawled on top of him, had hardly moved all night, and she hadn't been afraid. If this was what two glasses of wine, a bit of sherry, and a man could do for her, she'd keep him and a bottle on hand for the duration of her stay.

Lifting her head off his chest, she saw the shadow of morning whiskers covering his jaw, saw his dark hair tousled in sleep, his eyes still closed. She nuzzled her cheek against his, liking the unfamiliar, rough sensations, wondering what it would be like to kiss him this way, wondering if he'd turn her away this morning as easily as he turned her away last night.

She went to lift herself off of him, but his arms tightened around her in what seemed a reflexive action.

"Don't," he whispered.

One hand pressed her hips to his, the other pulled her mouth to his mouth. Her lips parted automatically, fitting themselves to his. His jaw was indeed rough, the feel unexpected and erotic as well. She could just imagine him kissing her all over, his rough jaw tickling her skin, his lips soothing.

Allie opened herself up to the kiss, to the magic that was Stephen. Their legs were scissored together, his, hers, his, hers, in an erotic combination of hardness and softness, insistent pressure and aching emptiness. Just like that, she thought. A kiss, the brush of his hand, the feel of his lips, and she was right there, right back on the edge, as she had been last night when he pressed her up against the wall outside the restaurant.

He kissed her hungrily, greedily, his erection throbbing between them. He was so close to being inside of her, where she wanted him, needed him. His hands expertly brushed her clothes aside, finding her breasts, taking them into his hands, his mouth. The way he was kissing her breasts and sucking on them created a hard tugging sensation between her legs, as if there were a direct line running between the two. Her whole body started to tremble, to soften, to open to his. Her hands clutched at his shoulders. She took in great gulps of air between wicked, greedy kisses, as he stripped her of her panties and rolled her to her side. His hand slid between her legs, his fingers slipped inside of her, and she gasped.

His eyes shot open. Sleepy-eyed, he looked at her—truly saw her—then groaned, his forehead coming down against hers. "Dammit, Allie."

But he kissed her again. The urgency of her need sneaked up on her. She felt herself suspended in midair, thinking she might come crashing down or she might go soaring instead. It was a heady kind of heat, the kind that came with being so high and so free. She arched into his touch, his fingers moving inside her, sending her splintering over the edge. She cried out his name, felt as if she did indeed go soaring up and over.

He caught her hard against him, his breathing as unsteady as hers, his heart pounding, too. She felt her body quiver, convulsing around his fingers, which were still teasing and tormenting her, and she wanted him desperately.