Christmas at the Castello(5)

"Then, why do you avoid me? You've been systematically ensuring our  paths don't cross for the past year." He lifted a brow. "How do I know  this? Because every time I'm unable to make something, I hear afterward  you were miraculously able to attend. That's a lot of trouble to go to  to avoid someone whose presence doesn't affect you."

She swallowed hard, studying the play of light over his achingly  familiar face. She had been avoiding him, of course, but it wasn't  something she was ever going to admit.

"So I ask again," he demanded roughly, "why show up tonight? What purpose did this serve?"         

     



 

Standing this close to him, inhaling his spicy aftershave mixed with a  fresh citrus lime that had always made her weak in the knees, she  suffered the horrifying realization that maybe it was closure she had  wanted. One more chance to see him before she signed those papers. One  more chance to put this demon to rest before she put her life behind her  for a future that was a complete unknown. To convince herself she was  doing the right thing by walking away from him. Instead, all she could  think about was his horrible, hurtful comment to Rory.

I'm not twenty-five anymore. An amazing body and a smart mouth don't do it for me any longer.

Was that all she'd ever been to him?

She tilted her head back and looked up at him. "You didn't mean what you said to Rory."

His mouth compressed into a straight line. "Oh, but I did, Diana. I may  still want you because you have an undeniably sweet body I could spend  my life sinking myself into. But as for any emotion beyond that?  History, sweetheart. You made sure of that."

The hollow feeling that consumed her then was frightening in its  intensity. She could not sign those papers tomorrow, could not step on  that plane knowing that was what he thought of her. That she wasn't any  different from all of his other women. That what they had had meant  nothing.

She moved closer until the tips of her breasts brushed against the fine  material of his shirt and her hips were cradled in the wide breadth of  his. His heat moved through her, reminding her just how good it felt to  be held against him.

"What were those women to you?" she asked, tracing a finger over the  groove at the side of his mouth that seemed to have grown deeper. "A  salve for your embittered soul? A way to prove I meant so little to  you?"

He captured her hand in his. "I just told you, Di, I'm over you. Don't give yourself so much credit."

But she could feel his arousal stirring to life against her. Feel the  rigidness of his powerful body with every contact point it shared with  hers. Sex had never just been about the physical between them-it had  transcended that, branded them with a truth they couldn't deny. And she  wanted it. Now. Then she could walk away.

She ran her free hand up the hard muscles of his thigh until she found  the essence of his virility. His rough intake of breath sent a surge of  satisfaction through her.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She lifted her gaze to his. "Maybe I came tonight for this. Maybe we should finish it like we started..."

Hot color stained his cheeks, the cords of his muscular neck standing out in stark definition. "I think that's a bad idea."

Her fingers traced the hard ridge of him along the zipper of his pants.  His response was instantaneous, his flesh swelling beneath her touch.  It set her blood on fire to prove she could still affect him like this.

He arched his hips to press himself into her hand. "This is just sex."

She closed her fingers more firmly around him. "Whatever you say."

"Diana." His fingers captured her jaw, tilting her face up to his. "This means nothing. Know that if I take you now."

But she saw the emotion raging in his eyes. Knew it from their navy  blue color so dark now his pupils blended with their inky depths. He was  lying.

She reached for his belt buckle. His big body tensed beneath her  fingers and for a long excruciating moment, she thought he would reject  her. Then he dropped his hands, his gaze sinking into hers.

"You want one more night, Di? I can do that."

A wave of adrenaline rolled through her, so strong, so powerful she was  incapable of resisting it. It was so wrong but so right to be with him  like this, but the right was, oh, so much stronger. Her hands worked his  belt out of the buckle and yanked it free. His zipper accommodated her  downward movement with a sharp hiss that made her stomach clench. Then  there was only his hard, hot flesh to rediscover. He was silk over iron  power, thick and unforgiving, and he knew exactly how to use it.

His groan split the night air. "There is a party going on thirty feet away."         

     



 

She squeezed her fingers around his burgeoning flesh. "I thought you liked to walk on the wild side..."

"Not with people I pass on the street every day."

But his protest was halfhearted. His back was to the railing, shielding  him from the revelers. His body was tense, expectant beneath her  fingers, his flesh responding to her touch, pulsing, growing under her  caress until he lay erect against his abdomen.

If he didn't touch her soon, she was going to scream.

A hand clamped over hers. His face when she looked up at him was full  of such heated intent it stopped her heart in her chest. "You know I'm  not a taker like that."

She did. She knew what a thorough, giving, wildly erotic lover he was,  and maybe that had been half the problem tonight. She wanted that-soul  destroying or otherwise.

She dropped her hands to her sides as he peeled the straps of her dress  from her shoulders and cupped her naked flesh. It felt so good to have  his hands on her after so long, she let out a low moan and arched into  him. He bent and closed his mouth over a taut peak and sucked hard, his  sudden assault on her body thrilling. His lips and teeth were insistent,  unrelenting, demanding a response from the very core of her. "You like  that," he muttered against her flesh. "You always liked that."

She moaned something like a response. He worked the nipple between his  fingers as he transferred his attention to the other, sucking and  pulling at her until the ache in her abdomen was so acute she thought he  might bring her to orgasm with this alone. Her hips moved restlessly  against him, demanding more. He moved his palm to her buttock, cupped  her and held her in place against his arousal. For a long moment, she  was suspended in a starry corridor that promised heaven. Then he gave it  to her, the rhythmic pull of his mouth on her nipple sending a sweet  surge of pleasure through her limbs that pulled a cry from her lips.

This, this was why it had only ever been Coburn.



Coburn watched his wife come down from her orgasm, her delicate face  flushed with pleasure. The fact that he could make her come with just  his mouth and the right amount of friction satisfied him on a level he  couldn't even begin to understand. This was when his wife was his. When  they were perfect together.

He ran his hands up the inside of her filmy party dress and found her  thong. The thin side ripped easily, pulling away from her skin like the  unwanted impediment it was. Diana's eyes rounded.

"That's right, wife," he growled. "You have me in a particular kind of mood."

She didn't resist as he turned her around so her back was against the  railing, her body shielding him from the partygoers. His mouth settled  against the shell of her ear. "Spread your legs."

She resisted for a moment at the authoritative tone behind the command.  Then her muscles relaxed beneath his hands as he moved her thighs apart  and found what he was looking for. Hot responsive silk that had the  ability to make him forget every rational thought he'd ever had.

She went rigid beneath his touch but not to stop him. She threw her  head back, exposing her irresistible long, slim neck, and reveled in it.  He buried his lips in her floral scent and moved his fingers against  her in a slow, languid caress.

"Oh, God."

His wife had always been responsive, but this time he savored every  sigh, every moan, every delicate whimper as he brushed his thumb against  the nub at the center of her. Worked it slowly, deliberately until she  was moving against his hand, his name a whispered plea that did  something to his battered soul.

"You have always been mine. Always."

She didn't respond. She didn't have to. He knew the truth, knew the  power they held over each other. It pushed him forward, goaded him on as  he slid a finger inside her in a caress he knew she loved. Her eyes  closed; her hips worked against his hand. Her breathing was fractured,  hitched in the night air, her body trembling beneath his hands as she  stood poised to shatter into another release. But he wasn't going to  give it to her that way.

He withdrew his fingers from her. Her eyes flew open. "There will be no audience," he said roughly.