THE SCENERY from Queens to the Finger Lakes at the beginning of August was breathtaking. Verdant greens and exploding flowers scrolled by as they drove up Route 17. Ordinarily, Aidan would have wanted to stop to take pictures, but the view inside the car was even more pleasing, so he kept driving. Caterina sat next to him, blooming like the wildflowers he’d brought her all those times. It wasn’t only how she was dressed—in white shorts and a peach camisole kind of top that made his hands itch—but her hair was down and fluffy like she’d curled it, skimming lightly tanned shoulders. He detected a hint of color on her cheeks and lips, and she’d even painted her nails a pretty peach. Today, she was all girl.
And not just in looks. Her whole manner had softened, as if once she took off the suit, earpiece, radio, gun and handcuffs of her own free will, she’d shed the agent with them. The transformation mesmerized him.
Trying not to be too sappy about how she looked, about the time they had together, he gave her an appreciative smile. “Okay, your turn to ask a question.”
They’d gotten a half hour into the drive, and he’d suggested they play Twenty Questions. In the guise of passing the time, it was a conspicuous ruse for getting to know things about each other that they hadn’t had the opportunity to find out before today.
Caterina had readily agreed. She’d already answered his queries about her father, Stash Ludzecky. The man had loved his children in his own way, but had been stern and stereotyping. Luke, particularly, had had trouble with him. Caterina recounted his untimely death, and how unresolved issues with him had affected her and Luke the most.
“What about your pa?” she asked. “Tell me about him.”
Aidan’s grip tightened, he hoped unnoticeably, on the wheel. “He was a good father. Provided as well as he could for us, though we weren’t anywhere near well off. But he’s headstrong, as you know, and he and Mama hit a bad patch.”
He went on to explain his parents’ separation, and subsequent reconciliation, but not before Pa had slept with another woman and had a child, Moira. He told Caterina about his half sister’s gang activities and how his mother had taken her in, despite the circumstances.
“That explains Bailey’s gang interest.”
He smiled.
“What?”
“You always call her Ms. O’Neil.”
She laid back against the seat and let another layer peel off. “Not in my head.”
“What do you call me in your head, Caterina?”
Amber eyes glistened in the sunlight streaming through the window. “I don’t use that kind of language in mixed company.”
Laughter bubbled out of him. He hadn’t realized she could be fun, or had any sense of humor, let alone a good one.
“I called you Aidan,” she confessed. “Right from the first.” When he glanced over, he saw a scowl on her face.
“Why the frown? You’re not having second thoughts are you?”
“No. I’m taking this one weekend with you without any recriminations. And without any interruptions.” They’d turned off both their cell phones.
One weekend? They’d see about that. Already she was charming him to the point that he couldn’t fathom ending their relationship after the forty-eight-hour deadline they’d given themselves. At noon on Sunday she planned to be out of his life.
“I scowled because I know about your fight with your father.”
He hadn’t expected that, and the dainty blow came like a left jab to the head. “You do? How?”
“In the chapel, when you were praying that night he was rushed to the hospital. I heard you...talking to God, I guess. I’m sorry I eavesdropped.”
“It’s okay.”
“I wanted you to know, because if we’re going to get close, there shouldn’t be secrets between us.”
“Oh, we’re going to get close.” Now was the time to tell her Luke had called him and encouraged him to come to Queens to see her. “I—”
“Tell me about the argument. What exactly happened?”
He agreed, mostly because he was afraid she’d be pissed about Luke and Aidan being in collusion to get her out of her job. So he recounted the whole, sordid story of his fight with Pa.
After he finished, she squeezed his arm across the gearshift. “Liam was right. Your father’s heart attack isn’t your fault. He had a physical condition that led to his attack. In any case, you should be able to pursue whatever profession you want to.”
“Like you did? Despite your family’s objections.”
“How do you know that about me?”
“From things you let slip. From the expression on your face when you talk about them. And Bailey mentioned that you didn’t see much of them.”
She sighed. “I guess I’m not really the one to give advice on family. “ This time she grabbed his hand and held it. “Why does your father object to your photography?”
“Not a real job, too risky, mostly it’s my family duty to work at the pub with my brothers.”
“He didn’t feel that way about Bailey.”
“She was a girl, and when she was single, she spent a lot of time waitressing, helping out where we needed it. Once Clay came along, my parents pitched a fit about him because he put her in jail years ago.”
She smiled. “I like hearing those stories about them.” She studied him. “There’s more between you and your father, though, isn’t there?”
“Yeah. Pa and I were born on the same day. We’ve had kind of a bond because of that. And because I was the youngest boy, he had more time to spend with me.”
“Would he give his blessing if your brothers wanted to do something else?”
Aidan thought about that. “Probably not. I guess he just assumed we’d all stay on.”
“It’s a shame, Aidan. You’re so good at photography. I hope you don’t give it up.”
“Ah, there’s the rub.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I can’t sleep at three in the morning, I question my talent. Truth be told, I think part of the reason I don’t make the break is Pa’s objection, but the other half is the down and dirty terror that I’m not as talented as I think. It’s a tough profession to sustain.”
“Afraid of failure?”
“Maybe.”
“From what I’ve seen, you’re magic with your camera.
He had to tell her. “I have a confession to make. I took pictures of you when you didn’t know it.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “The yoga ones. I already know about those.”
“There were more.” He shrugged, and nodded to the back seat where his photography gear sat. “Most recently in your backyard. I got some stunning shots of you and your sisters. All beauty pageant material. Don’t worry. I won’t do anything with them.” He grinned. “They’re for my own personal enjoyment.”
A blush crept up her body, starting with her chest and coloring her face. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
He slid his hand off the wheel to rest on her bare knee. The soft skin, the light scent of lotion she used on it apricots—shot sparks straight to his groin. “You feel wonderful.”
Instead of responding, she covered his hand with hers. To keep it there. For a while, they were quiet. It was pleasant, normal, just watching the little towns pass by, anticipating what the weekend held for them.
They stopped for a snack about midafternoon at a small ma-and-pa shop on Route 17. There was a picnic area across the street; it was deserted, so they ate at a table and stretched their legs. The sun shifted through leaves and even the grass gleamed greener than usual. Aidan knew his senses were heightened because of her.
They asked and answered more questions while they nibbled on their food. Background about families: C.J. laughed at stories about Bailey’s childhood antics. College experiences: She had some interesting dorm tales. They shared niece and nephew stories: Aidan’s feelings for Rory, and how he missed the boy. Her attachment to her sisters’ kids, her excitement about Luke’s impending fatherhood.
After they finished eating, the wind picked up; they just sat there, letting the breeze blow over them. “I know you run,” she said. “Is that your favorite kind of exercise?”
With a slow and sexy smile, he stood and took the can of soda out of her hand. Gently, he drew her to her feet. She was still limping some, but her ankle was better and she no longer used the crutches. He pulled her to him. “Ah, darlin’, my favorite kind of exercise takes place in a king-size bed.”
“Aidan,” she said, checking over his shoulder, to the side. She was so used to being wary. “We’re right out in the open.”
“And anonymous. Besides, there’s not a person in sight.”
He moved in further, whispered, “I need to be close to you for a minute,” and slipped his arms around her waist. She was solid and strong, and her scent was like Eve’s. He buried his face in her hair. Breathed her in. “Can I photograph you at the lake?”
“All right.” She was nosing into his shoulder and sniffed him. “You smell so sexy. Right from the beginning I couldn’t get your scent out of my mind.”
“It’s Aramis.”
“No, it’s you.”
He tipped her chin up. “I love your eyes. The shape. Those thick lashes. Their unusual color.”
“Six others have eyes just like mine.”
“No, Caterina, no. Not just like yours. Yours are special.” He anchored his hands at her hips. “You’re special.”
She whispered, “You make me feel that way.”
“Just a taste. For now.” He brushed his lips over hers. She arched into him, tried to increase the pressure. He held back. Teased. “No, no, sweetheart. We’re out in public.”
“I don’t care anymore.”
“We...gotta...take...this...slow.” Each word was punctuated by his mouth finding her cheekbone, her jaw, her neck.
Her arms tightened around him. “We’ve already kissed hotter than this.”
“You thought that first kiss was hot?”
“Oh, yeah.”
In her ear, he said, “When you’re ready, I’ll show you hot like you’ve never seen before.” He drew away. She swayed into him. “Come on. Let’s get to the lake.”
Grumbling about his being a tease, she let him take her hand and they walked back to the car.
After their contact at the picnic table, Aidan decided to push for more intimacy with her. “Tell me about the guys in your life. You’re so pretty, there have to have been a ton.”
C.J. turned her face away to look out the window. The scenery was lovely, but it dulled at Aidan’s question. “I’m not sure I want to get into this.”
“Why?”
“I’ve had some bad experiences with men.”
“They must have been members of some moron club.”
She chuckled.
“Proszè.”
Her heart quickened at his use of the Polish word. Her control over what this man did to her was dissipating by degrees and she felt like a candle melting in Aidan’s sun. “I did the usual stuff in high school. Dated, met a special boy, got busy with him my senior year.”
“Was your hair longer like your sisters’?”
“Yeah, down to my waist. How’d you know?”
“I can picture it, you as a teenager. The guy must have thought he’d died and gone to heaven.”
“I don’t know about that. We saw each other in college, too, since we both went to school in the city. But it fizzled out.”
“Anybody serious after that?”
“A teacher. He was a nice guy. We lived together for a while, but he couldn’t take it when I decided to go for the service.” She recounted other stories of guys who couldn’t handle her job after she’d gotten to be an agent. Though it was painful for her to talk about, she did it for Aidan, to reinforce the idea of how nearly impossible it was to have a long-term relationship with a member of the Secret Service.
“Something’s missing.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You told me at the lake that you’d had bad experiences with men that hurt your career.”
She felt the agent returning. Close off. Don’t share. Be cool.
He must have felt it, too. “It’ll stay with me, Caterina. I won’t tell anybody anything about this weekend. Share this with me. I sense it’s important to us.”
So she told him about David.
His response was hot and quick. “Goddamn fucking son of a bitch.”
She laughed. “Don’t hold back, Aidan.”
“I could track him down in New York, beat him up. My brothers and I can handle the job.”
She could picture the O’Neil posse going after the conservative David Anderson. “Actually, I heard he’s leaving the city for the field office in D.C. Ironic. I loved the work I did in New York. The Intelligence Division there is very busy.”
“What did you do?”
“Mostly analyze threats that come in for the president, vice president or any of the dignitaries at the UN. We take every threat seriously and report our findings to headquarters. There’s a huge database for tracking down people. And since I majored in languages and worked at the UN, I was good at deciphering accents, that kind of thing.”
“You speak different languages?”
She nodded.
“Say something sexy in French.”
“Je veux que m’ils aient touchè.”
He winked at her. “I want you to touch me, too.”
“You shit. You speak French.”
The outrage on her face made him burst out laughing. “From college. I had a knack for it and it stuck, ma jolie femme.”
More moments of comfortable silence.
Then, he said, “Intelligence work sounds less dangerous than protective duty.”
“People think so but the fact is no agent has ever died on protective duty. They’ve been shot, but nothing fatal. There have been deaths in investigation, undercover, going in on the stings and in the field offices, too.”
“Did you do either of those things?”
“Undercover assignments never appealed to me. I worked mostly on running down threats.” She smiled. “I did do protective duty there. Field offices provide UN security when needed.”
He seemed thoughtful. She wondered what he was thinking. Then decided she didn’t want to know. So she said, “Your turn. I want to hear about these redheads.”
Slashes of color accented his cheekbones. “You know about the redhead thing?”
“You and your brothers are open books, O’Neil. You jab each other all the time about your Titian-haired beauties.”
“I didn’t sleep with Sonia that night,” he said abruptly.
“So you said the day of the picnic.”
“Or any night we were at the lake.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“I just wanted you to know that since I met you, there’s been no one. I couldn’t get a certain blond babe out of my mind.”
“Babe? Oh, my God. No one’s ever called me that.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
“You’re changing the subject. Come on. I want the details.”
He told her tales of the women in his life. Some were funny. Some heartbreaking. Some stupid. The whole Twenty Questions thing worked its magic, because by the time they neared the cottage she did feel closer to him.
“We’re almost there. One last question we each have to answer. A personal one.” He cleared his throat and the devil danced in his blue eyes. “Real personal.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“If you had to compare sex to something, what would it be?”
“You first.”
“All right. It’s like a meal to me.” He ran his hand over her bare knee. “The appetizers should be tasty, but not filling. Little bites. Something to arouse the palate.” He sniffed. “And they have to smell great. Right now, apricot sounds appealing.”
“Oh, Lord. Why’d I ask?”
“Hush. Then the wine. I’d drink it in. Taste its lush body and full flavor.”
She swallowed hard.
“Naturally, the main course would take the longest. The different textures. Mouth involved. Tongue. The sensations of each...bite go through your whole body. And when it’s over I’d feel sated. But it would take a long” —he ran his hand over her knee— “long” —he inched up to her thigh— “long time to get there because I’d savor and indulge in every single morsel.”
A moan escaped her. “Stop! I get the message.”
“And then, Caterina, there’s dessert.”
“Oh, God, no please. No dessert. Not now.”
His chuckle was smug. “I guess I can hold off on that particular delicacy until later. Your turn.”
Her competitive side kicked into gear. She had to match his wit, be as clever. Ah yes...
“Sex is like popcorn.”
“There’s a new one.”
“The kind you air pop.”
“I can’t wait to hear this.”
“First, you get the ingredients together. Then you put the kernels in the popper. It takes a lot of heat to get them ready to pop.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“The process starts slow. Real slow. Just a few bursts, here and there. Then, the level rises. Slow...slow...slow...”
“God, not too slow I hope.”
“Shh. But you have to be very careful, because once in a while, the kernels don’t pop like they’re supposed to and the corn doesn’t reach the top. It just simmers there, but sadly, doesn’t go over.”
“You been buyin’ the wrong brand then, baby.”
Biting the inside of her cheek, she went on. “Sometimes, it gets to the top and tumbles over gently. Easily.”
“Easy can be good, as long as it goes over.”
“But sometimes—and this is rare—it bursts right out of the chute and over the top. Fast, furious. Uncontrollable.”
“Oh, Lord, open the window. I can’t stand this.”
“You asked.”
Satisfied she’d turned the tables on him, she lay back against the seat. He was silent, too. Then he said, “Caterina?”
“Yes?”
“You ever have Cracker Jacks?”
The laughter was shared. So was the intimacy.
But when they pulled into the driveway to the cottage, the intimacy waned and C.J. started to feel edgy. When she’d been here before, she was Agent Ludzecky. “What did you tell Bailey about wanting to use the cottage?”
“Just that I was coming back up for a while. I didn’t say I was bringing anyone with me,” he added quickly.
“She can never know about this. Give me your word.”
“I give you my word.”
“Is the cottage still open? I know we left in a hurry and all the agents went back then, too.”
“Yeah. A cleaning service is coming in to clean and close the place down next week. Everything’s still up and running.”
“Good.”
He leaned in toward her. “It will be.”
His comment made her smile. And, because of their blatant sexual teasing on the drive up, she was surprised when they entered the house, that he took only his bags to the room he’d used on their stay in July, and led her to the master bedroom.
She cocked her head. “What’s going on?”
Crossing his arms, he leaned against the doorjamb all cocky and arrogant-looking. His shorts and T-shirt hung with masculine grace on him, and his color was high. “What, did you think I was going to jump you as soon as we got behind a closed door?”
She did. “Maybe.”
“Not my style. We’re going to go for a swim, have a drink, and then go out to dinner and dancing.”
“What if I don’t want to do those things?” she asked, sidling up to him.
“Not gonna happen yet, babe.” He kissed her nose. “Anyway, anticipation is important. Like with the appetizers, remember? Or the popcorn taking its time to get to the top.” His smile was thousand watt. “Now go into the bathroom and put on that bikini one of your sisters gave you while I change these sheets.”
C.J. scowled. She’d been anticipating this all day. Still, she walked into the bathroom and changed.
Into the bikini.
o0o
“WHAT ARE you thinking?” Aidan asked C.J. as he sat across from her at a white linen–covered table at Starlight’s, a restaurant on the tip of the lake close to the Hammonds-port side. They’d both dressed up, him in a blue blazer and light blue shirt, highlighting the color of his eyes. They weren’t cool like the sky tonight, but hot like flame. She knew why. Her body was humming too from the afternoon.
She gave him a siren’s smile. She’d worn the gauzy yellow dress, earrings and had fussed with her hair, so she figured flirting was appropriate. “That you’re a nice guy.”
“Not exactly how I want you to be thinkin’ about me tonight, lass.”
“Oh, man, you’re good.”
“I am.”
God, she loved this cocky side of him. She sipped her merlot and ran her tongue over her lips. His gaze narrowed on the gesture. All right, she was teasing him, too. But he’d been the one to delay the sex. It was kind of fun, though. She took another bite of her lobster and sighed. He was eating the same thing with asparagus and the twice-baked potato, but he showed little interest in the succulent meal. His attention was focused completely on her. That alone was heady.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Why am I nice?”
“I know why we came to this side of the lake.”
He averted his gaze, embarrassed now, by a kind thing he’d done.
“You didn’t want to run into the pretty cop.” She shook her head. “That’s nice, considering how hot she is for you.” The memory made her frown. “She was all over you at the picnic. “
He grasped her hand and brought it to his mouth. Kissed her fingers. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Probably it was the wine. Or the gesture. Or the stunning romanticism of the atmosphere—a table on the terrace overlooking the lake, a warm breeze and stars dotting the sky. But something made her say, “I couldn’t believe how much it hurt.”
“I’ll never do anything to intentionally hurt you. “ At her skeptical look, he added, “You don’t have faith in men, I know. But I can be counted on.”
It was important—for both of them—to say, “This, us, is only for the weekend, Aidan.”
“Then count on me for now. Trust me for the weekend.”
The waiter appeared and removed their plates. They ordered triple chocolate decadence for dessert. The band began to play “When a Man Loves a Woman” and Aidan stood. “We’ve got time for a dance before dessert.”
He came around and helped her out of her chair. “My foot’s okay,” she said.
“I know. This is just another excuse to touch you.”
“Your fault,” she whispered as she rose. “You could have been touching me all this time, but you wanted to wait.”
“Oh, God, I’m dead meat. I had no idea how lethal you could be when you flirted.”
C.J. crossed to the dance floor with him. This, too, was outdoors, under the canopy of sky. He took one of her hands in his and slid his other around her waist. She nestled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Silently they swayed, listening to the soulful tune.
He inched closer to her.
She hooked her arm tighter around his neck.
His mouth glazed her ear.
She tangled her legs with his.
When the music ended, Aidan drew back and stared down at her with a look so profound it made her throat tight. “It’s time, love.”
She smiled. “I think so, too.” She glanced at the table. “What about dessert?”
He said into her ear, “We didn’t get that far in our conversation today. As I said, I’ll have to show you.”
“The chocolate decadence we ordered?”
“Oh. We’ll take that with us.”
“Fine by me.”
They didn’t talk as they waited for the dessert—which seemed to take forever—and the check. He led her out of the restaurant and helped her into the front seat. He stole a kiss as he leaned in and buckled her seat belt. In the process, his knuckles grazed her breasts and she sucked in a breath. Once inside, silence again. He held her hand as he drove. His face was taut in the light from the oncoming cars, and she realized the teasing, flirty man was gone. He was trying to control what was building inside him during the day.
So was she. She didn’t speak, just held on to him.
Five minutes...
Ten...
Fifteen by the time they finally pulled up to the house. He swerved into the driveway a little too fast and stopped on a dime, making her pitch forward. He got out of the car and slammed the door. His urgency sent an embarrassing thrill through her. Dragging open the passenger door, he unclasped her belt and drew her out. He walked ahead of her to the front door, opened it, shut that hard, too.
Then he shocked her by sliding an arm beneath her knees, one around her waist and lifting her to his chest.
“Aidan, what are you doing?”
“Be still.”
“I’m too heavy.”
He disproved her words by taking the steps two at a time. She had no idea he was so strong. At the top of the stairway, he took her mouth ravenously, and she felt the primitive possessiveness of it, the way he carried her, his whole manner, in every nerve ending. “Hurry,” she said against his lips.
He strode down the hall, kicked open the master bedroom door and went inside. Standing her by the bed, he cupped her face in his hands. She just watched him.
“Mine,” he whispered roughly. “All mine.”
o0o
HIS HANDS were shaking. Roiling inside him were emotions he didn’t know he could feel. He’d made a mistake stringing this out, teasing her, giving her time to get used to the intimacy that was about to happen. Still, he tried to be gentle.
“This is so soft,” he said, slipping one strap of the gauzy yellow sundress off her shoulder and running his fingertips over her skin. It was warm to the touch. He kissed his way across her collarbone. “Soft and supple.”
At his words, her body melted even more, as if it was readying itself for him. He nosed the other strap off. Pressed his lips to her skin to feel her heat with his mouth. The straps gone, the front of the dress was supported only by her breasts, so he tugged it down, revealing cleavage...a swell and curve...her nipples. Now, she was bare to the waist. She’d worn no bra, he knew that from watching her all night. She was lovely, lovely flesh, which the moonlight caressed through the open doors to the deck and skylights. He raised his hands and cupped her. Her breasts were firm and toned, befitting her. He massaged her with his palms, watching her gorgeous amber eyes close, watching her bathe in the sensations he was causing. A smile flirted with her lips; he took her nipples between his fingers.
Her back arched. “Aidan.”
He lowered his head and let his mouth replace his hands. She startled and made a throaty sound. It sent desire whipping through him. His words of praise, of need, of what he was going to do to her were a harsh whisper.
One quick yank brought the dress to the floor; he knelt before her like a servant and drew off the yellow lace panties that covered her. When she was fully bared to him, his hands shook even more. His legs got weak. He stayed on his knees and kissed her stomach, brushed his lips over her curls. She jolted into him and said, “I’ll never last.”
“No, you won’t.” Mercilessly, he increased the pressure with his mouth.
She came on one long, glorious groan of pleasure.
When she was done, she gripped his shoulders, her breathing ragged. He stood. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining brighter than the stars. Reaching out, she undid the buttons of his dress shirt, disposed of that, and slid her fingers to his belt.
The jangle of his buckle.
The rasp of his zipper.
The thump of his shoes.
Wordlessly, she pushed the clothes down, knelt, too, in front of him, and rid him of everything he wore.
Then she took her turn, kissing his abs, running her mouth along one hip, then another. She murmured words that he couldn’t grasp, so steeped he was in what she was doing to him. She bit one hip lightly; he jerked and grew harder. His body bucked when she took his penis in her hands, then her mouth.
He gasped for breath. Began to sweat. Blood rushed to his center, and he had to hold on to her shoulders for support. His world dimmed.
On the brink, he heard her say something, but again, couldn’t make out the words. The interruption did give him one moment of sanity. “Get up.”
“No.”
So he bent down and forced her away, to her feet, then drew her onto the bed, stretched her out. He fumbled for the condoms in the dresser drawer, where he’d put them earlier. He winced as he sheathed himself too fast, too rough, but his heart had begun to thud, almost painfully. And he was clumsy. Kneeling on the bed, he gave her a searing kiss, then covered her body with his. At the meeting of skin, bone, every part of their bodies possible, his pulse beat wildly.
“I don’t know how you like it.”
She pulled him close.
“What position...”
Her hands clasped his butt.
“What makes you...”
“Aidan, please. Just come inside me!”
He did. With one long thrust.
She arched into him. For a brief second he bemoaned his lack of finesse, of originality, of pretty words. Then, he couldn’t think at all. He simply plunged and plunged and plunged. He heard her cry out, his head filled with the scent and feel of her, and he lost himself in all of it.
o0o
“THIS IS WHY they call it chocolate decadence,” she murmured as she lay back into the pillows while Aidan did sinful things with the gooey confection.
“Oh, yeah.”
Eyes closed, she enjoyed the sensation of his tongue licking the sweetness off her breasts. Suckling, just for good measure. “You’re so beautifully formed, here.”
A dot of cold on her navel, his tongue lapping it up. More on her hipbone, with the same method of removal.
“I’m going to be a sticky mess.”
“We can take a shower together. Better yet a Jacuzzi. There’s one in the master bath.”
She knew about the tub, of course, from her sweep of the place when the Secret Service came up here with Bailey, but she’d forgotten that. She forgot the very fact that she was an agent. Before she could fret, he said, “Grasp the headboard with your hands.
“Why?”
“I want to see you like that.”
She did what he asked. After he worked his way down and back up her body, he said, “Keep hold, and turn over.”
“We’ll get the sheets...Oh!”
“Just say, ‘Yes, Aidan.’”
“Yes, Aidan.”
Her face in the pillows, she learned everything there was to know about his special brand of dessert.
o0o
HE TOOK the snapshots quickly, before she could change her mind...
Caterina in the tub, flaky bubbles keeping her decent. Her hair was piled on her head, a few tendrils escaping. She held a glass of champagne in her hand, from a bottle he’d found in Bailey’s small fridge, so he didn’t even have to go downstairs to fetch it.
Caterina back in bed, wearing a baby-pink slip of a thing she said her sisters gave her to take up here. God bless sisters! The camera’s eye caught the folds of silk that flowed like water over her body, which had been sculpted by years of working out. Her breasts strained against the fabric, making the photo even more sensual.
Caterina at the dressing table, taking down her hair, brushing it in long, graceful strokes. He was entranced by the totally feminine ritual.
Caterina asleep, exhausted from what they’d done together. It was the first time he’d seen her so relaxed. Her lips bore the evidence of his ardor, a bit swollen and red. There were a few bruises on her arms.
He switched off the camera, kissed her on the forehead, climbed into bed and turned off the lights.
o0o
“FAIR IS FAIR,” she said, picking up Aidan’s digital camera from where he’d left it on the night table. “I’m taking some pictures, though I won’t make you come alive, like you do with this thing.”
“You make me come alive, babe, with just a look.”
She smiled when he drew back, zoomed in and took a close-up of his face. His blue eyes were filled with satisfaction and his smile was almost a smirk.
Shrugging into a robe, he brought his coffee out on the bedroom deck. There she caught the wind ruffling his hair, the indolent way he leaned against the railing, facing her with a Cheshire cat grin. “Why not?” he said wickedly. “I got the cream. “
Another face shot, up close, tracking the dark growth of beard on his jaw. She shivered, remembering the abrasion of it brushing her inner thigh...
He made a naughty comment for the camera, then took it from her hands and led her to the chaise in a corner of the deck that even the prying eyes of Rachel Scott couldn’t see if she’d still been around. It was private.
Wonderfully private.
Simply wonderful.