Текст книги "All of Me"

Автор книги: Kelly Moran

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

chapter

twenty

It seemed she didn’t belong anywhere. A party full of people and she was still so alone. Most of the guests were having a great time, which was good. Faith was hoping to drum up enough courage to go introduce herself, but then Alec’s text came, throwing her off.

He missed her? She didn’t know how to feel about that, or if she should believe it. If he missed her, he had a funny way of showing it.

His parents were nice people. His dad was a little too outspoken, but his mother was warm and friendly. Faith got the impression Alec’s dad was just nervous. After all, he used to be the Covingtons’ gardener and now he was invited to beach parties on the estate and his son was marrying the Covingtons’ daughter. Hope used to talk a lot when she was nervous. Endless chatter with no filter.

She opened the back door to the guesthouse and stepped inside. Not bothering with the kitchen light, she made her way to the stove to start the kettle. While she waited for the water to heat, she glanced out the window over the sink. The bonfire created enough illumination for her to move about, but she didn’t want anyone to know she’d slunk off like a coward, so she kept the lights off. The party had been too much stimulation. Most people didn’t understand that, and it was too hard to explain.

She doubted anyone would notice she was gone anyway, which was fine.

The kettle whistled, shaking her away from her thoughts. She poured the water into a mug and set the tea bag to steep. After locking the kitchen door, just in case a wandering guest should approach, she decided to grab a book and read until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Perhaps then she’d get out of this pattern of interrupted sleep that had haunted her all week.

“You left the party pretty early.”

Hot tea sloshed over her hand when she whirled. She shook the sting away.

The deep tone of Alec’s familiar voice infiltrated the quiet serenity of the guesthouse. She’d thought she was alone. Assumed, rather. He hadn’t come inside without knocking first any other time.

He leaned against the living room wall by the front door, arms folded over his impressive chest and ankles crossed. No flip-flops or sandals. The sight of his bare feet sent some kind of electrical current to her knees, causing them to weaken. Why was that so sexy? Board shorts in a blue tropical pattern covered his strong thighs and narrow hips. His tee was plain white, but stretched across the muscles in his biceps and broad chest, making her want to be that shirt.

He looked casual, until she caught the tension tightening his shoulders and the wariness in his eyes. Tufts of his black hair stood up on his head, like he’d run his hands through it a half dozen times. It was windy tonight, though. Perhaps nature was the culprit for the bedhead.

She tried to swallow and failed. What was he doing here? He didn’t want complications or romantic entanglements. He’d called things off. Didn’t he realize how hard it was for her to be near him?

The sting in her hand where the tea had spilled intensified to a throb. It was turning red already. She shook her hand again and set the mug aside.

He shoved off the wall and strode into the kitchen. “Did you burn yourself? Let me see.”

This was silly. It was fine. “I’m . . .”

The thought died away. He brought her hand to his lips and gently blew on the burn, keeping his gray-blue eyes trained to hers. A head-to-toe shiver tore through her body. She made some kind of sound in her throat—a determined whine of surrender or a plea to stop. Either. Both.

He stilled, all but his thumb, which brushed over the rampant pulse in her wrist. “Never, never stop making that noise, Faith. It’s the sexiest thing. You make the same sound when you come.”

Air forced its way into her lungs. Heat pooled between her thighs. Her head got more than a little light.

With a gentle tug, he drew her against him. “I missed you.”

Yeah, but . . . why?

“You said that. In your text. I’m confused.” And incoherent.

“As am I.” Several emotions shifted over his face in the span of a few seconds. He dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers. Moaned. He drew away and mumbled something about a mermaid before he plunged into the kiss.

She fisted her hands in his shirt and yanked him closer, even as her brain screamed at her to back away. This was maddening, the need and fervor he could evoke. And when he left at the end of summer, if she didn’t die from bewilderment first, she’d succumb to a massive broken heart. But this was what she’d wanted. Experience. Passion. To live.

His arms tightened around her back when he ended the kiss and nuzzled her neck. He sighed heavily. “Mermaids and cupcakes.”

She chewed on her lower lip where she could still taste him. “I wasn’t joking when I said I’m confused.”

He chuckled against the skin below her ear. “I’d explain, but you’d think I’m nuts.”

“Already there.”

He laughed again, sounding rough and sexy. The shadow of his beard scraped her cheek as he drew back to look into her eyes. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What did you say to my father to make him laugh?”

She stared over his shoulder, trying to remember the brief conversation they’d had on the beach. “He jokingly asked if the brownies were safe to eat. I said Ginny and I made them, so the sugar coma was his risk to take.”

A smile lit his eyes, infused his whole face. He shook his head and cupped her cheek. “I got my sweet tooth from him. At least there’s something we have in common.”

They had more than that in common, but that was a conversation for a later time. “Why are you here, Alec?”

The first boom of the fireworks exploded outside, lighting her tiny kitchen in red hues.

He dropped his forehead to hers. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

Because she was naive and tempted to believe him, and because the end result wouldn’t change no matter what he was starting to feel, she slid her hands down his arms and linked their fingers. “Come on. The fireworks are starting.”

His mouth thinned with an exhale. “Fireworks.”

“Yes, fireworks,” she said. A good distraction.

She tugged him by the arm outside, then dropped his hand. The humidity slammed into her at once, dulled only by a soft breeze off the water. The air was scented heavily with brine and salt, a smell she’d grown quite fond of these past weeks.

Leaning against the deck railing, she watched the sky explode with color. The ocean made the sound bounce and echo, but the water reflected the display in panoramic glory. Faith couldn’t tell exactly where they were setting the fireworks off, but judging by the smoke, she figured it was one of the tiny inlet islands to the south.

Alec came up behind her, sliding his arms under hers and trapping her to the railing. The solid feel of him behind her brought sparks of her own and a strange sense of ease. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and held her close.

At the last boom of the finale, he kissed her hair. “We could go make our own fireworks.” He winced and turned her around. “That was awful. You’d think a writer could come up with something better.”

She smiled through a sigh. “I won’t think less of you.”

He widened his stance to bring her closer. “You don’t think less of anyone.” His brows furrowed as he studied her in the dark, with only the moon for light. “I haven’t written one word all week.”

Writer’s block again. Or still. That’s why he was here. She tried to erase the disappointment from her tone. “Do you want to tell me about it? Maybe I can help. Or do you not like to discuss a work in progress?”

His chest expanded with a breath as he glanced over her shoulder. “I never talk about my books until they’re turned in to my editor, not even with my agent. I’m paranoid about leaks. Other than an approved story idea, my publisher doesn’t know what I’m working on.” Returning his gaze to hers, he brushed the top of her nose with the pad of his thumb. “Your freckles are adorable. My main character has them, too.”

So did he or did he not want to discuss the manuscript? “What’s the character’s name?”

“Amy.”

“A female lead?” All his books had male main characters.

He swallowed. Nodded. “Yes. She has wavy brown hair, about this long.” He touched the ends of her hair, his gaze watching the movement. “Her eyes are amber, but turn honey when confronted. She’s just shy of frail in frame, with a voice that sounds like a mermaid call and skin that smells like cupcakes.”

Her hands settled on his forearms and may have gripped a little too tight. “Mermaids and cupcakes?”

Offering a barely perceptible nod, he smiled. “Don’t forget the amber eyes. They’re one of my favorite parts.” He shrugged, suddenly looking shy. “What can I say? You inspire me.”

She fisted her pendant and slid it back and forth on the chain. “I’m really confused. What are you doing here, Alec?” Besides breaking her heart and making her desire things she couldn’t have. Why did the one person who had noticed her in twenty-seven years have to be emotionally and physically unavailable?

The smile slipped. “I told you, I missed you.” His gaze ran over her face and hair. “I know I shouldn’t. I should just end it like we tried to do in New York, but I can’t.”

Her heart pounded so loud she was shocked the partygoers on the beach didn’t hear. Things were changing between them faster than the roll of the tide, but with the same force. All the complications and scenarios played out in her head until she could only draw one conclusion.

Why waste time and energy denying the pull? If Hope’s death and Faith’s recent move away from all she knew had taught her nothing else, it was that you only get one chance to live before it flutters away.

She cupped his cheek and smiled. “I offered you the summer. I promise when it’s over and it’s time for you to leave, I won’t make it difficult for you. But you’re the one who called things off, so you’ll have to decide.” She could see the moment her words sank in.

He leaned in as if to kiss her, but hovered over her lips instead, until they shared the same breath. “Faith?”

“Yes?”

“Hold on.”

In a blur of motion, he picked her up, strode through the patio door, and kicked it shut with his foot. Without breaking stride, he wove through the kitchen and down the short hall to her room. He kicked this door shut, too, and set her on her feet.

Then his mouth crashed over hers and her back was pinned to the door. His hands spread over her ribs and around to her back. The hard, lean length of him pressed against her, so she could feel every delicious ridge beneath her palms.

“Condom?” he breathed.

“In the nightstand.” Where they’d stayed since New York.

The arms around her back shifted as he lifted her and walked to the other side of the room, her toes dragging on the floor. He broke contact for a millisecond to search through her drawer and come up with a foil packet, and then his mouth was crushing hers again. Bruising. Desperate.

Her shirt was gone. The bra, capris, and panties next.

He stared at her, hands flat against the wall on either side of her shoulders. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head and reached behind his neck to tug off his tee. The shorts followed. He kept his gaze trained on hers when he rolled a condom down his generous length.

“I’ll be thorough next time.”

“Okay,” she breathed. Thorough didn’t really matter to her right now. Him, inside of her, did.

She reached for his hips and brought him to her. Smooth, soft skin over hard muscle. The heat of his body melted her, his kiss drugging. He checked her readiness with one stroke of his finger, and moaned when he found her wet. Aching for more, she ran her hands up his abs, over his nipples, and drew a shudder out of him. Learning what he liked as she went along, she slid her arms around his waist, then lower, to cup his backside.

He inhaled sharply. Dropped his forehead to her shoulder and nipped. Feeling a little more brazen, she worked her hand between their bodies and palmed his erection. He let out a half cry, half moan, and his mouth opened wide against her sensitive skin. He licked, sucked, and elicited a tremor out of her. She closed her fingers around his shaft and thumbed the tip, urgent for him to claim her body again.

It was like a piano wire snapping. With his knees, he spread her thighs. His hands gripped her hips and lifted. His chest held her in place against the wall as his fingers threaded through hers and trapped her hands above her head. Instinct kicked in, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was much taller than she was, so her body was stretched taut, breasts jutting out and chest heaving in excitement.

He kept her hands pinned with one of his and aligned himself with the other. Just before he entered her, he paused and stared into her eyes. Something connected, fused, between them, something more powerful than their physical bodies. Then he slid home.

It was like coming undone. Every fiber unraveled until her brain shut down and there was only the fullness of him inside of her, the slick friction of their skin and the sound of their mingled breathing. His hands found hers once more, lacing their fingers together above her head and straining the beautiful muscles of his biceps.

“That noise, Faith. That one right there. It drives me out of my damn mind.” He kissed her hard, reared back, and drove deep inside. “Yes. Do it again. Again and again.”

“Alec . . .” Explosion loomed. Her muscles coiled.

He groaned into her ear. Thrust harder, more urgent. “Again. Say my name again.”

Right now, probably at any given time, she’d give him whatever he wanted, any time he asked. Because no one had ever made it like this. Life, companionship, friends . . . sex. Never before. “Alec.”

“Faith.”

That pushed her off the edge of the cliff. Him saying her name with need through gritted teeth, barely holding on himself. She tumbled off into sweet, sweet oblivion. He tensed against her while the aftershocks trembled, rocked, and finally settled.

Alec let go of her hands and cupped her bottom to spin around and slide to the floor. He stretched his legs out and leaned against the wall. The back of his head landed with a thud.

She straddled his thighs and rested her cheek on his shoulder. They stayed like that, him stroking her back and her toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, until the air-conditioning kicked in with a whirl and she shivered.

“Alec?”

“Hmm?”

She sighed happily. “You can make your own fireworks anytime.”

He laughed in that rusty, rough sound she loved and wrapped her deeper into his embrace. “You got it.”

chapter

twenty-one

Alec opened his eyes and winced at the sunlight streaming through the window. The edges of sleep drained away as he ran his hand down Faith’s back. Warm, supple female. Waking up and having her curled against his side, the scent of her and their lovemaking still in his nose, caused the knots in his chest to loosen.

He hadn’t slept with a woman—actually slept—since Laura was still around. This was different, waking up with Faith. Though not needy by any means, Faith was more giving. Laura had never wanted to cuddle. When they were done having sex, Laura would roll to her side of the bed and Alec to his.

He and Faith were still in the middle of the bed, legs and arms entwined, their breathing the only sound. He hadn’t had anything or nearly anyone to hold on to in . . . well, ever. Yet instead of panic and uncertainty, a sense of rightness settled over him.

Faith had so much passion and possibility bottled up inside, just waiting for someone to uncork it. She’d come undone in his arms. Exploded. She’d managed to uncork him, too, and he hadn’t even realized he’d been shelved. He wondered why no man before him had seen her openness, her true gift of healing. By his estimation, no one had ever seen her at all.

The knowledge made him want to show her how wonderful she was. She was real. More real than the majority of the population. Faith didn’t live by agenda or gain. She just, quite simply, felt. She claimed she hadn’t lived, and maybe she hadn’t by certain standards, but there was more to the road of life than bucket lists and accumulating friends. She saw the wonder in little things. It was the most beautiful quality about her, the biggest draw. In a society of technology and fast tracks, she accumulated moments, almost as if storing them in her fascinating head to reflect on later. Nothing escaped her notice.

He’d been wondering from day one what about Faith was different, what had him coming back to her time and time again when it had always been so easy to just walk away before. She was the first person to actually see him. Not the author or the money or the man who screwed up by breaking everything he touched. Him. What was buried beneath.

Beside him, she started to stir. He stared at the dusting of freckles on her nose against her pale skin, her sleep-flushed cheeks and pink mouth, wondering how to avoid fucking up this gorgeous creature.

She stretched her slim body before she buried her face in his chest, all without even opening her eyes. “You’re still here,” she murmured against his skin.

It pissed him off how she never expected attention. Or anyone to stick around. He reined in the anger because that wasn’t her fault. “I am.” Right here where he wanted to be—however much that scared the shit out of him.

She lifted her head and offered a sleepy smile.

His heart turned over in his chest. He cupped her jaw and kissed her. A long, deep, soul-searing kiss that had more than his dick stirring. Her fingers drove into his hair, holding him there as if anticipating he’d pull away. Yeah, that was the problem. He couldn’t pull away from her. Hadn’t been able to for weeks now. Hell, he’d tried.

Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, he sheathed himself and rolled her beneath him. They’d made love sitting up and against the wall, but having her under him, pliant and ready with her brown hair spread over the white sheets and looking at him through those amber eyes, was the equivalent of a maelstrom. Heady, powerful lust coursed through him, making him quake.

She cupped his jaw and brushed her thumbs across his lips. Parting her thighs, she rubbed her sweet heat against the underside of his dick. “What are you thinking about?” She put the tip of her finger between his brows, smoothing a wrinkle.

“The absence of thought, actually. Whenever you’re around me, even when you’re not, you seem to . . .” He broke off and looked down at her, unable to finish what he’d started. It wasn’t fair to her to do this, to throw any more emotion into the already heady mix.

He kissed her until there was no air, aligned himself, and thrust inside. He stilled to give her a minute, although his body screamed at him to move. To claim. Her heat gripped him in a tight fist and all he could do was whisper her name and pinch his eyes closed.

A warm kiss pressed to one eyelid and then the other before her lips drifted across his cheek to his ear. “You’re my only thought, too.”

“Faith . . .”

“Not now, Alec. Just make love to me. The rest comes later.”

The sentiment bothered him, ate away at his gut. So he moved inside her because doing that brought peace. He made love to her slow and languid, with passion he didn’t know existed. And when they collapsed on the bed, a sweaty, tangled mass of limbs, he didn’t know if they were even two separate people anymore.

Eventually, Faith got up and padded to the bathroom. He shoved on his shorts and went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. She came in moments later, wearing a T-shirt—his shirt—and nothing else. He drew in a sharp inhale that did nothing to stop his rapid pulse.

She stilled after seeing his expression and looked down at herself. “I’ll put on something else in a minute. I didn’t want to walk around naked.”

“Leave it on.”

“Are you sure? I—”

“Yes. Leave it on.”

He’d just had her moments ago, but he wanted her again. In theory, the desire for her should be fading by now. That’s how it had always been. Once he’d had a woman, the craving for a repeat was gone. But his desire for Faith only grew.

Shaking his head, he handed her a cup of tea and poured himself some coffee. When he turned back, she was staring at him. “What?”

“You made me tea.”

So he had. Until she’d pointed it out, he hadn’t really noticed. He shrugged.

She took a sip and lifted her brows. “With one spoonful of honey.”

Where the hell was she going with this? “That’s how you drink it, right?”

“Yes.” As if unable to stand any longer, she made her way to a chair and collapsed into it. Something like shock laced with grief spread over her face as she rubbed her temples. Her face drained of color. “Excuse me a minute, please.” She fled from the room.

He stared at her cup abandoned on the table and then the empty doorway. Stood there for several minutes, in fact. And then, like a smack upside the head, he understood.

He set down his cup and strode after her, finding her dressed and perched at the edge of the bed, holding her cell phone with shaking hands.

“Twenty-seven years and they can’t remember I hate broccoli. Six weeks and you know how I drink my tea.” She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears. “What’s wrong with me?”

He wanted to hold her and soothe those tears away, but he remained just inside the doorway. “Nothing’s wrong with you. They’re the idiots, Faith.” And if he ever met her parents face-to-face, he’d say that and much more.

“Maybe today will be the day I can have a real conversation with them.” Desperation radiated in her voice.

He wouldn’t even bet his coffee on it. Today seemed more urgent to her, though.

“Surely they wouldn’t brush me off so easily today,” she whispered to herself.

A few thoughts pounded inside his skull. Today possibly being the anniversary of her sister’s death was at the forefront, but he had no idea if that was what she meant or if it was even the case. He had no clue when Hope had died. And since it was Sunday, Faith didn’t have to work. In case his assumption was correct, he’d just keep her busy doing other things to help her get through.

“Why don’t we go out and get some breakfast?”

She looked up at him. Through him. “I’m not very hungry.” She grabbed the pendant around her neck, but instead of sliding it back and forth on the chain like he’d seen her do so often, she pressed her fist to her chest. “What part of the book are you stuck on?”

“What?”

“Your book. Last night you said you were stuck. At what part?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had whiplash from the abrupt topic change. “It’s a little hard to explain, since you haven’t read it.”

“Just give me a condensed version of the—”

“Do you want to read it?” That would keep her mind off whatever was bothering her and maybe help him in the process.

“But you don’t let anyone read your manuscripts.”

She wasn’t just anyone.

Shit. He almost swallowed his tongue. “I’ll let you.”

“Why? I mean, what about leaks? That’s what you said last night. Aren’t you afraid I might tell someone?”

He laughed.

A look of insult marred her brow before it morphed to shame.

Figuring he’d hurt her feelings somehow, he cleared the air. “I trust you, and you’ve helped me so far. If not for you, the book would still be a blank document.” She still seemed hesitant. “Do you have anything else pressing to do today?”

Her eyes drifted shut and her lower lip trembled.

Without knowing how or why, he’d hurt her again. If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him. And she didn’t. Feeling like the lowest form of pond scum, he walked to the bed and sat next to her. But then he didn’t know how to console her, so he didn’t.

“I have nothing else to do today.” Her voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear her.

He cleared his throat. “What would you like to do?”

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, staring at her phone. “If I read your manuscript, I’ll just want to read the ending you haven’t written yet. Tell me about the plot and where you’re stuck.”

Her careful avoidance of the question only heightened his curiosity, but he let it drop. Flopping back on the bed, he gave her a rundown of the story line. Halfway through, she laid next to him on her side and propped her head in her hand.

He draped his arm over his eyes. “So Amy escaped the Nightmare demon, but he took her brother for leverage. She’s connecting with the other two souls for book two and three, but I just can’t decide where to go from there. Too much closure and there’s not enough for the other books, too little and the readers get pissed.”

“And the idea is that the three souls need to come together, fight their own fears, to defeat Nightmare, right?”

“Yes.”

She chewed on her lip. “Why is Amy so important to Nightmare? What makes her special?”

He gave her a condensed version of the backstory involving the death of her parents and that night he first visited young Amy.

“But that’s what Nightmare does. Finds people at their lowest and makes even sleep hell for them. Why Amy? What’s the motivation? It’s almost like he . . . loves her or something. As much as a demon can, anyway.”

Alec stilled. His brain fired on all cylinders and in every direction.

Christ. Faith had nailed it. The demon lacked motive. And if he went with Faith’s suggestion, the readers would feel a smidgen of pity for Nightmare. Would understand how much Amy could destroy not only the physical part of him, but whatever residual part of his human side remained.

It was goddamn brilliant.

He rolled over, straddled her hips, cupped her cheeks, and smacked a kiss on her mouth. “I have to go. I need to plot this out. Go punch out more pages . . .”

He stopped when her smile grew wistful. Sad. The corners of her eyes turned down and her eyebrows furrowed, even as she maintained the curve of her lips. And he remembered that she’d been upset about something, something specific to today.

“I’ll get to work on it tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Go. Write the masterpiece that’s in your head. You’ll go nuts if you don’t.”

It shook him how well she understood. His fingers were itching to type. But damn, he couldn’t, not with her in this state. “Come with me.”

“To your place?”

“Yes. You being there will be encouragement to finish faster so I can devour you. Plus, if I get stuck again, you’ll be there.” He ignored the warning bells inside his head. Shoved aside that it wasn’t just her body he was needing anymore.

Her gaze darted over his face. Then she grinned. “I have an idea.”