What The Heart Finds (10 page)

“That sounds like
her,” Lena agreed. “What did your dad do?”

“Thank her for her
concern but tell her to mind her own damn business. That is was
important for boys to run amok. That he was raising us to be strong
men, not polite members of society.”

Lena laughed. “He
seemed to succeed.”

Eric looked over at her,
smiling, his eyes amused. “Think I'm a strong man, do ya'?”

“Oh don't read so
much into... what are you doing?” she asked, watching Eric's
hand reach out and toy with her bun.

“How come you never
wear your hair down?” he asked, sinking his fingers between the
plaits and working her hair free.

“I... dunno...”
she said, wincing at how breathless she sounded. “It gets in
the way at work, I guess.”

“You're not at
work,” he added, his breath hot on her neck.

“Habit,” she
said, holding herself rigid, trying not to move so she didn't touch
him. Because just his fingers in her hair was driving her to
distraction. She closed her eyes, the feeling soothing and sensual.

She felt her hair
starting to fall freely around her face, a few strands at a time,
until she felt the full weight of it to one side of her face. Eric's
hands slipped into the strands at the base of her head, pulling
gently so her hair fell more naturally. She felt herself leaning
toward him, wanting more. And not a part of her wanted to fight it.

“Much better,”
Eric said, turning her to face him. “You're beautiful,”
he said and her eyes flew open. He winked at her, smiling devilishly.
“So you like having your hair played with, huh?”

“What? No I don't.
I'm just... tired. It's late,” she objected, fumbling for her
purse to find her phone and realizing she had left it back at the
inn.

“It's barely nine,”
he told her. “Just admit you like being with me. I promise I
wont tell anyone,” he said, smirking. “You can keep your
squeaky clean reputation.”

“I don't have a
squeaky clean reputation,” she objected, but even as she said
it she knew it was true. Regardless of how she saw herself as a
person, she projected a very cautious, very staid persona.

“Want to prove
that?” Eric asked, his fingers suddenly stroking down her
jawbone.

She shouldn't. She knew
she really shouldn't. But what could it hurt? She was going to be
gone in another week or so and she would never have to see him again.
No awkward greetings in work elevators or avoiding eye contact on the
subway. If there ever was a situation where she could let herself go
a little bit, this was it.

She looked up, her hazel
eyes heavy-lidded.

It was all the permission
he needed.

His lips crushed down on
hers, hard and demanding, with none of the gentleness of the first
time. Lena's hands went behind his back, laying on his shoulders and
pulling him closer. Eric's teeth bit into her lower lip once, hard,
drawing a whimper out of the back of her throat. Eric's arms went
around her lower back, crushing for a moment before he pulled her
over and put her down on his lap.

Lena's legs went around
his hips as she slipped her tongue inside Eric's mouth. She felt his
heartbeat against her breast, hard and frantic as her own. She felt
the desire growing, deep in her belly, almost intolerable in its
intensity. Her skirt was hiked up around her upper thighs and she
lowered her hips down on his, feeling his hardness settle against her
heat.

She moaned against Eric's
lips. His fingers dug into her hips, keeping her in place. His lips
pulled away from hers then, watching her for a long moment with his
heavy-lidded eyes. Lena felt the nerves try to surface, the rational
part of herself trying to break through the heavy haze of desire.

Lena moved her hips
against him, all thoughts flying out of her mind as she felt his
hardness press against the juncture of her thighs. Eric's eyes
closed, a low, almost growling sound escaping his hips.

She lowered her face
against his neck. Emboldened, her hips ground against him slowly,
reminding her body of sensations she had been denying it for far too
long.

One of Eric's hands went
up and across her back, holding onto her shoulder as she gently moved
against him. He could feel her heat even through several layers of
material. She was making low, whimpering sounds against his neck,
pleading almost. He held her tighter, thrusting his hips upward
against her as she stroked her heat across him. A gasp escaped her
lips, her hips moving faster. Her breath was coming out in strangled
exhales and he knew she was close. It was taking every bit of his
self-control to keep himself from ripping off her panties and burying
himself deep inside her. Giving her what she was really begging for.

“Cum for me baby,”
he whispered, turning his head and kissing the top of her hair.

Lena closed her eyes, his
cock thrusting against her as she moved, hitting her clit and driving
her almost to the edge.

There was a loud snapping
sound behind them. Lena's eyes flew open, quickly scrambling off of
Eric's lap. “What was that?” she yelped, her voice husky
and foreign.

“Deer,” Eric
said, his own voice deep, as he pointed.

Lena sat down on the log
next to him, looking off into the woods until she found the source of
the noise. A big, round-eyed doe was standing near the edge of the
water, looking over at them as if considering if they were a threat
or not for a long moment before she finally pranced away.

Lena pulled her knees
together with painful pressure to try to ease the chaos that was
going on between her thighs. The aching need that was begging to be
fulfilled. The almost overwhelming urge to climb back on his lap and
finish what they had started. She tried to clear her mind, focus on
slowing her breathing, to think of anything but how close Eric was
and how much she wanted him.

Eric looked over at her,
her eyes far away, guarded. She was breathing deeply, trying to bring
herself out of her own desire, the regret probably starting to settle
in. His arm reached, out, settling his hand on the warm skin of her
thigh just barely above her knee. Grounding, comforting.

Lena looked down at his
hand, his wide palm work hardened and found that reassuring. She
wasn't going to regret it. She knew that would be her normal go-to
emotion. But there was no reason for that. So what... they had dry
humped in the woods like a couple of horny teenagers. No big deal.
Certainly not something she needed to freak out about.

But, she reminded herself
firmly, not something she had any plans on repeating.

She stood up quickly,
Eric's hand falling away, leaving her skin feeling cold. “We
should get back,” Lena said, happy with how strong her voice
sounded.

Eric let out a long
exhale, trying to not laugh at how winded she sounded. She was
putting her walls back up slowly, brick by brick, losing most of the
carefree spirit he had been graced with that evening. A brief glance
into the Lena underneath all the fuss.

“Alright
sweetheart,” he said, standing up and grimacing slightly at the
friction in his pants.

Lena was already moving
back from where they came from, her hands buried in her fair,
furiously trying to set it to rights again.

She had insisted on
slipping into her broken heels as soon as they emerged from the
woods, walking stiffly to keep from knocking the heel completely
loose. She walked a few steps ahead of him, stopping at the top step
of the inn porch like a barrier.

“Thanks for showing
me the stream,” she said formally.

“Yeah baby,”
he said, smiling sardonically. “anytime,” he said and
slowly turned his back and walked away.

Lena walked into the inn,
finding Emily sitting on the top of the reception desk, still in her
dress, as she thumbed through some kind of paperwork.

“Ten o'clock,”
she commented as Lena walked past. “Eric is losing his touch.”

“Yeah,” Lena
tried to smile. “something like that”

Except it was nothing
like that. And she was going to have to take a long, cold bath to try
to forget that fact.

Nine

Lena didn't leave the inn
the next day, spending her time responding to work emails and filling
Elliott in on the bachelor auction, leaving out the bits about her
actually doing any bidding, as well as the concept of the Spring Into
Summer dance she had heard about. The town committees always seemed
to be planning some kind of event for the entire town to enjoy.

She tried to convince
herself that her staying in had everything to do with work and
nothing to do with avoiding running into Eric.

She had taken a bath for
over an hour the night before, the water frigid and punishing. Her
desire for him was at odds with her rational thought. On one hand,
what could a little fling hurt? On the other, she had to face the man
to retrieve the vehicle that would take her back to her life. So if
things went south, she would have one hell of an awkward interaction.
And she really didn't need any distractions either. She was way too
behind on finding out information. If she didn't deliver Elliott some
kind of idea of what the books looked like, she was going to be on
the receiving end of a nasty email, or call, or worse yet... an awful
face-to-face meeting.

Ultimately, rational
thought won out. Which was great except she couldn't seem to control
herself around the man. So her only safe bet was to hide away, get
some distance, build up some kind of defense toward him.

She didn't know what it
was about him. Not even with her first boyfriend did she ever feel
quite so out of control. So drawn in. And she didn't even have any
guards up at back then. But he had been quiet, unassuming. A true
book nerd who was obsessed with silly things she had found
fascinating. Like the names of constellations and the complicated
mythical worlds he lost himself in for days on end. There hadn't been
a charming bone in that guy's body. He didn't paw at her like
teenaged boys were supposed to. He took what was offered in an almost
detached sort of way. It had been easy. She had always been in
control.

It had become a pattern
for her as she went into adulthood. The more she threw herself into
her studies, and later, her work... the more restricted she kept
herself. The more controlling she became. She shot down the men who
showed interest in her and pursued her own conquests instead. Always
the one in power. Always the one to initiate. Always the one to end
things.

Which was ultimately the
problem with Eric O'reilly. He wasn't easily shut down. She had tried
to refuse him. But he had been undeterred. He was resilient and
determined. And she was out of her depths. Because she had never met
a man with such unfair animal magnetism. He was inhumanely good
looking and charming to an absolutely disarming degree.

And he took the lead.

What was that about? All
the men she had met had been tentative, cautious. Afraid of
rejection. They would awkwardly look at her at the end of dates,
their internal struggle clear on their faces. Should I or shouldn't I
kiss her? And they almost never did.

Then there was Eric,
seemingly immune to the discomfort that was rejection from the
opposite sex. Maybe, she thought with a sigh, that was because he had
never really been rejected.

Except with Anna, she
reminded herself. Sam's pretty, sweet wife. He had loved her and she
had chosen someone else. Maybe that had been the breaking point.
Maybe that was when he had decided to just... go for it. Throw
himself in. To hell with the consequences.

But... that didn't make
any sense either. From what it sounded like, he had had a reputation
with women since he was young.

How many had there been?
A dozen? A few dozen? More? Had he kept his exploits exclusively in
Stars Landing? In which case, his options would have been somewhat
limited.

She hadn't ever given a
guy's “number” much thought before. It had always been a
fluid, unimportant thing. She was always safe with her partners and
had very little to no emotional attachment which made caring about
their previous sexual partners silly. She had hardly given her own
number much thought. She had slept with her first boyfriend at the
requisite sixteen and stayed with him until they both went off to
different colleges, the separation had been inevitable and had been
carried out without much emotion.

Then she was at college,
so hellbent on getting and keeping excellent grades so she could keep
her scholarship and make a good life for herself... get herself out
of the slums, that she hadn't made any time for normal college
experiences like friends or dating.

She had had her one and
only one-night stand her junior year after knocking back tequila
shots until she could numb the end-of-the-world sensation she felt at
getting a B for a semester. He had been an opinionated,
whiskey-drinking arts major who spouted bizarre ideas about the
course of evolution thanks to technological advances. She had sat and
listened to him for hours, the tequila making her head light and
swirling. When he had finally sat down next to her, she had turned
her head and kissed him. They had been back to his room a few minutes
later, drunkenly clawing at each other in the most rushed, awkward
sexual encounter she could imagine.