“Maybe we’re just in lust.”
“I’ve been in lust.” His lips cruised over her jaw. “Is that what this feels like to you?”
“No.” She turned her head so their lips could meet. “Not just.”
“I think about you. How you look, how you sound, how you feel. And here we are.”
She linked her arms around his neck as he lowered her to the bed. His hands glided down, up, then palmed over her breast.
“You are perfect. Perfect, perfect.” He nibbled his way down, then nipped lightly at her nipple through her shirt until she quivered under him.
Then he tugged her shirt down, and took flesh.
More than arousal, she thought even as her body bowed up in response. There was joy fizzing through the excitement, like the bubbles in champagne. He loved her. Harper with the patient hands and ripping temper loved her.
Whatever happened, she was loved. And the love that rose so full and strong inside her was welcomed. There was no gift she treasured more.
To show him, and how she needed to show him, she poured herself into a kiss on a flood of that love.
She surrounded him with it so he felt his heart ache from the brilliance. He loved. It had never come to him before, this stunning surge of emotion that filled heart and soul, gut and mind. This woman, the one who moved with him, merged with him, was the one who sparked it.
He savored the scent and flavor of her skin as the sky deepened to night and a whippoorwill began to sing in the apple tree outside his window.
Inside, the air went soft and thick, throbbing with the sounds of sighs. He felt her rise, tremble, and tremble on the peak, then float down on a moan that was his name. Her skin quivered where he touched and his own warmed as her hands glided over him.
Her lips. He could sink into them until pleasure swirled and shimmered in his mind like mists.
When she rolled over him, rose over him, he could see her face in the candlelight. The glow of it framed by her dark hair, the delicate blue of her eyes deepened with passion.
Her lips reclaimed his, soft, soft even as the kiss deepened. Then the throaty hum as she took him into her. He closed his eyes, riding the sensation as she closed around him.
“This is what you want,” she whispered. “What you all want.”
The change was like a finger snap, the cold like a sheath of ice. He looked at her, and everything inside him stilled.
“No.”
“To penetrate. To bury yourself.”
“Stop.” Even as she rocked, arousal mixing with horror, he gripped her hips to hold her still.
“Tell her anything. Love. Promises. Lies. As long as you get between her legs.” Her thighs clamped him, long, lean vises. Hayley’s body, he knew, but not Hayley. Revulsion rose in his throat.
“Stop.” He reached up, and what was inside her laughed.
“Shall I make you come? Shall I ride you like a pony until you—”
He shoved her back, and she continued to laugh, sprawled naked in the flickering light.
“Leave her alone.” He hauled her back. “You’ve got no right to her.”
“As much as you. More. We’re the same, she and I. The same.”
“No. You’re not. She doesn’t look for the easy way. She’s warm and strong and honest.”
“I could have been.” Something else came into her eyes then. Regret, grief, need. “I can be. And I know better than she does what can be done with this body.” She pressed it to his, began to whisper erotic suggestions in his ear.
With sick panic burning in his belly, he shook her. “Hayley. Damn it, Hayley. You’re stronger than her. Don’t let her do this.” And though it was still something else that looked at him, though her lips were cold, so cold, he kissed her. Gently. “I love you. Hayley, I love you. Come back to me.”
He knew when she did, the instant. And gathered her hard and close while she shivered. “Harper.”
“Ssh. It’s okay.”
“She was—Oh God. It wasn’t me. I didn’t mean those things. Harper—”
Comfort, he thought, wasn’t the answer, not here, not now. “It’s you I want.” His lips skimmed over her face, and his hands began to stroke her warm once more. “Just you, just me. We won’t let her touch this. Look at me.”
He gripped her hands in his, and plunged into her. “Look at me,” he repeated. “Stay with me.”
The cold became heat, the horror became joy. She stayed with him. Linked.
SHE COULDN’T SPEAK, even when his head was pillowed on her belly and the whippoorwill had given way to the cicadas. So much churned inside her she couldn’t separate the shock from the fear, the fear from the shame.
He brushed a kiss over her flesh, then rose.
“I’m going to get us some water, and I’ll look in on Lily.”
She had to choke back words now. Pleas that he not leave her alone, even for a moment. But that was foolish, and impossible. She couldn’t be watched every minute. More, she couldn’t bear the idea that he might feel he had to watch her, waiting for Amelia to use her again.
She sat up, drawing her knees up to rest her brow on them.
She stayed that way when he came back, sat on the bed beside her.
“Harper. I don’t know what to say.”
“It wasn’t your fault, let’s just get that out of the way. And you pushed her out, or pushed through her, whatever the hell.”
“I don’t know how you could stand to touch me after.”
“You think I’d let her win? You think I’d let her beat us?”
The barely restrained fury in his voice had her lifting her head. “You . . . you were inside me when she—It’s so creepy.”
“Here.” He nudged the water on her. “Creepy for both of us,” he agreed. “And a little incestuous for me. Jesus. Nothing like getting really close to your great-great-grandmother.”
“She wasn’t thinking of you that way. I don’t know if that helps.” Fighting off a shudder, she handed the water back to him. “She was . . . I felt like she was seeing him. Reginald. She was—I was—all turned on, you know, then it was like this spit of rage spewing up through that. But the kind that makes it more, sort of more exciting. Darker. Then it was all blurred together. Her and me, him and you. And I was so wound up I couldn’t get a grip on anything. Then you said you loved me, you kissed me and I could hold on to that.”
“I’ve been in lust.” His lips cruised over her jaw. “Is that what this feels like to you?”
“No.” She turned her head so their lips could meet. “Not just.”
“I think about you. How you look, how you sound, how you feel. And here we are.”
She linked her arms around his neck as he lowered her to the bed. His hands glided down, up, then palmed over her breast.
“You are perfect. Perfect, perfect.” He nibbled his way down, then nipped lightly at her nipple through her shirt until she quivered under him.
Then he tugged her shirt down, and took flesh.
More than arousal, she thought even as her body bowed up in response. There was joy fizzing through the excitement, like the bubbles in champagne. He loved her. Harper with the patient hands and ripping temper loved her.
Whatever happened, she was loved. And the love that rose so full and strong inside her was welcomed. There was no gift she treasured more.
To show him, and how she needed to show him, she poured herself into a kiss on a flood of that love.
She surrounded him with it so he felt his heart ache from the brilliance. He loved. It had never come to him before, this stunning surge of emotion that filled heart and soul, gut and mind. This woman, the one who moved with him, merged with him, was the one who sparked it.
He savored the scent and flavor of her skin as the sky deepened to night and a whippoorwill began to sing in the apple tree outside his window.
Inside, the air went soft and thick, throbbing with the sounds of sighs. He felt her rise, tremble, and tremble on the peak, then float down on a moan that was his name. Her skin quivered where he touched and his own warmed as her hands glided over him.
Her lips. He could sink into them until pleasure swirled and shimmered in his mind like mists.
When she rolled over him, rose over him, he could see her face in the candlelight. The glow of it framed by her dark hair, the delicate blue of her eyes deepened with passion.
Her lips reclaimed his, soft, soft even as the kiss deepened. Then the throaty hum as she took him into her. He closed his eyes, riding the sensation as she closed around him.
“This is what you want,” she whispered. “What you all want.”
The change was like a finger snap, the cold like a sheath of ice. He looked at her, and everything inside him stilled.
“No.”
“To penetrate. To bury yourself.”
“Stop.” Even as she rocked, arousal mixing with horror, he gripped her hips to hold her still.
“Tell her anything. Love. Promises. Lies. As long as you get between her legs.” Her thighs clamped him, long, lean vises. Hayley’s body, he knew, but not Hayley. Revulsion rose in his throat.
“Stop.” He reached up, and what was inside her laughed.
“Shall I make you come? Shall I ride you like a pony until you—”
He shoved her back, and she continued to laugh, sprawled naked in the flickering light.
“Leave her alone.” He hauled her back. “You’ve got no right to her.”
“As much as you. More. We’re the same, she and I. The same.”
“No. You’re not. She doesn’t look for the easy way. She’s warm and strong and honest.”
“I could have been.” Something else came into her eyes then. Regret, grief, need. “I can be. And I know better than she does what can be done with this body.” She pressed it to his, began to whisper erotic suggestions in his ear.
With sick panic burning in his belly, he shook her. “Hayley. Damn it, Hayley. You’re stronger than her. Don’t let her do this.” And though it was still something else that looked at him, though her lips were cold, so cold, he kissed her. Gently. “I love you. Hayley, I love you. Come back to me.”
He knew when she did, the instant. And gathered her hard and close while she shivered. “Harper.”
“Ssh. It’s okay.”
“She was—Oh God. It wasn’t me. I didn’t mean those things. Harper—”
Comfort, he thought, wasn’t the answer, not here, not now. “It’s you I want.” His lips skimmed over her face, and his hands began to stroke her warm once more. “Just you, just me. We won’t let her touch this. Look at me.”
He gripped her hands in his, and plunged into her. “Look at me,” he repeated. “Stay with me.”
The cold became heat, the horror became joy. She stayed with him. Linked.
SHE COULDN’T SPEAK, even when his head was pillowed on her belly and the whippoorwill had given way to the cicadas. So much churned inside her she couldn’t separate the shock from the fear, the fear from the shame.
He brushed a kiss over her flesh, then rose.
“I’m going to get us some water, and I’ll look in on Lily.”
She had to choke back words now. Pleas that he not leave her alone, even for a moment. But that was foolish, and impossible. She couldn’t be watched every minute. More, she couldn’t bear the idea that he might feel he had to watch her, waiting for Amelia to use her again.
She sat up, drawing her knees up to rest her brow on them.
She stayed that way when he came back, sat on the bed beside her.
“Harper. I don’t know what to say.”
“It wasn’t your fault, let’s just get that out of the way. And you pushed her out, or pushed through her, whatever the hell.”
“I don’t know how you could stand to touch me after.”
“You think I’d let her win? You think I’d let her beat us?”
The barely restrained fury in his voice had her lifting her head. “You . . . you were inside me when she—It’s so creepy.”
“Here.” He nudged the water on her. “Creepy for both of us,” he agreed. “And a little incestuous for me. Jesus. Nothing like getting really close to your great-great-grandmother.”
“She wasn’t thinking of you that way. I don’t know if that helps.” Fighting off a shudder, she handed the water back to him. “She was . . . I felt like she was seeing him. Reginald. She was—I was—all turned on, you know, then it was like this spit of rage spewing up through that. But the kind that makes it more, sort of more exciting. Darker. Then it was all blurred together. Her and me, him and you. And I was so wound up I couldn’t get a grip on anything. Then you said you loved me, you kissed me and I could hold on to that.”
