[4 Seasons 01] Seducing Summer (14 page)

Callie pushed herself off the dresser, then
lifted her arms as Gene held the bottom of her dress and drew it up her body.
He did it slowly, almost reverently, as if excited to reveal her inch by inch,
feasting his eyes on what lay beneath as the material peeled slowly up her
skin.

Her heart thumped against her ribs as the
dress reached her hips, her waist, skimmed over her breasts, and then she felt
her hair lift as he drew it over her head. He draped it over a nearby chair and
turned back to rest his hands on her hips.

She fought the urge to cover herself up and
instead leaned back against the dresser, her body burning under his heated
gaze.

“Pretty,” he said, running a finger across
the top of her bra. His finger hooked over the lace, brushing her skin. “But
not as pretty as what’s underneath.”

She wore one of Rowan’s creations—a
comfortable but stylish orange-colored set with blush-red lace and golden
embroidery. It always made Callie think of a sunset on a warm February night.

“Why does everything about you remind me of
summer?” he whispered as if reading her mind, sliding his hands around her back
to her bra strap. One neat twist and the clasp opened, her breasts dropping a
little as the elastic released them. Drawing the straps down her arms, his gaze
rested on her breasts as they were gradually revealed.

“Jesus.” He tossed the bra behind him
without looking to see where it landed. She liked that—it was as if he couldn’t
bear to spare the few seconds it would take to look away. Cupping her breasts,
he felt the weight of them on his palms, then stroked his thumbs across her
nipples. “You’re so beautiful.” He circled the pads of each thumb around the
edges of her nipples a few times, watching as they tightened, then took the
resulting beads between his thumbs and forefingers and tugged gently.

“Oh…” Already fired up, Callie gave in to
her need to kiss him and pressed her lips to his, sliding her hands to his
waistcoat. He stepped back, however, undid the buttons of his waistcoat
himself, and let it slip down his arms before tossing it onto the chair. Then
his lips were on hers again, and this time when she removed his tie and started
to unbutton his shirt, he let her.

Suddenly everything became urgent. The
previously gentle presses of his lips turned into a heated and demanding
capture of hers, and Callie welcomed his hot kisses, hungry for him, wanted to
consume and be consumed by him. Her fingers fumbled in their rush to see him
naked, and it took her a few goes to get all the buttons of his shirt undone.
Reaching the bottom, she pushed both sides of the shirt apart and groaned at
the feel of his warm skin beneath her fingertips.

“You’re driving me mad,” he said, his voice
husky with desire.

“I want to.” She slid her hands up under
his shirt, skating across the smooth skin of his back. She felt giddy with
lust, desperate to have his naked skin next to hers. Pushing his shirt off his
shoulders and letting it drop to the floor, she wrapped her arms around his
waist and pressed herself against him. “I want you, Gene. I’m aching for you. I
want you inside me. I haven’t been able to think about anything else all day. I
don’t care if I’m moving too fast or being reckless. Life’s about the here and
now and, here and now, I want you.”

“I want you too. I have since the moment I
walked into your office.” He kissed down her neck, his tongue hot and wet on
her skin, tracing down to her breasts, where he covered a nipple with his
mouth. Callie clenched inside as he sucked, tightening her fingers in his hair
and groaning. He swapped from one nipple to the other, teasing them with his
lips and tongue until they looked like pebbles on the beach, wet from the sea,
hard and shiny.

“Stop,” she said with a gasp as she felt
the first flickers of an orgasm approaching, way off in the distance. “I need
you inside me. Please.”

He straightened, admiring the effect he’d
had on her nipples for a moment before hooking his thumbs in the elastic of her
panties and drawing them down her legs. She stepped out of them and lifted
herself back onto the dresser, parted her knees, then pulled him toward her by
the waistband of his jeans.

“Have you got a condom?” she asked. She had
one in her handbag if he didn’t, but was relieved when he nodded. Her fingers
fumbled at the button of his jeans while he retrieved it from his wallet, and
once he’d found it, he helped her out, undoing the button and sliding down the
zip.

Callie inhaled at the sight of his erection
jutting out from his jeans, encased in thin black cotton briefs. She’d dreamed
about this moment since he’d walked into her office, all smart and
sophisticated, with those sultry, knowing eyes that said,
One day you’ll beg
me to take you, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.

Suddenly, the full realization of what they
were about to do hit her. This wasn’t teasing, or flirting, or making out on
the sofa. This was naked, raw, adult sex. Gene wasn’t a teenager—he wasn’t even
like Jamie, a young man with more hormones than sense. He was a grown man, a
hundred percent XY chromosome—possibly more so than any man she’d ever met.
Once they’d done what they were about to do, there would be no going back.
They’d never be able to undo the memory of his body sliding into hers, of their
baser instincts taking over. Of being locked in ecstasy together.

She swallowed hard as he ripped the packet
off the condom. Was she being foolish? It might be the twenty-first century,
and women had a lot more sexual freedom than they used to have, but that didn’t
mean they should sacrifice their self-worth to achieve it. If it had been up to
him, he would have walked away and returned to his own room. He had principles,
but he was still a man, and she’d pushed him past his limits until nature had
taken over from the civilized soul inside him. Would he regret this in the
morning?

That might indeed be the case, but she
couldn’t stop now. Just as his body had shifted into autopilot, so Callie’s had
become pure sensation. It was like being drunk, even though she’d only had a
couple of glasses of wine, but the thrumming in her blood, the desperate urge
to have him inside her, made everything else fade into the background until the
world consisted only of the man before her, with his hard muscles, his hungry
mouth, and the stiff shaft he was now releasing from his briefs that strained
eagerly toward her.

He hadn’t removed his trousers, and as he
pushed down his briefs, she caught a glimpse of puckered skin on his hip—the
wound he’d received in Afghanistan. She wondered briefly whether he was worried
about her seeing the scar, but then all thoughts fled as he lifted the elastic
of his briefs over his erection.

Callie fought not to pant out loud as he
grasped it and stroked himself a couple of times before rolling on the condom.
Fuck, this guy knew what he was doing, and that was so sexy she nearly melted
into a puddle. She widened her thighs as he moved closer to her and parted her
folds with the tip of his erection.

Then he paused, cupped her chin, and lifted
it so he looked into her eyes.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

“I’m sure.”

He kissed her, and then he pushed his hips
forward and sank slowly into her.

Callie closed her eyes and tipped back her
head as he filled her. He didn’t stop until his hips met her thighs. She
tightened her internal muscles, and she could feel him all the way up, so thick
and hard she nearly came on the spot.

He groaned and began to move with cautious
thrusts at first to make sure he was lubricated. He slipped his hand into her
hair to cup the back of her head, his lips finding hers again with deep,
searching kisses that took her breath away. His fingers were gentle on her hair
and where he held her hip, but firm, and as his thrusts grew bolder, his kisses
harder, she had the blissful feeling of him taking over and guiding them both
toward the ecstasy of fulfilment.

He slid inside her so easily now that she
knew she must be wet and swollen, all her senses turning her on. The feel of
him as she rested a hand on his arm, admiring the movement of his biceps
beneath her fingers, like rock beneath the satin of his skin. The sexy sound of
him inside her, slick and sensual, and the deep murmur of his voice in her ear
as he told her how beautiful she was while he made love to her. The taste of
him, sweet as wine, and the smell of his aftershave mingled with the smell of
sex. And the sheer sight of this gorgeous man taking her, his body painted
silver with starlight.

“Callie,” he whispered, pulling her close,
shifting his stance. He thrust even deeper into her, but clearly it wasn’t
enough, because after a few moments he slid his hands beneath her and lifted
her. She squealed, flinging her arms around his neck, but he held her tightly with
one around her waist, and within seconds she found herself on her back on the
bed with Gene leaning over her, supporting himself on his hands and casting her
in shadow.

She wrapped her legs around his waist,
lifting her hips, and he groaned and thrust forward, burying himself deep
inside her. “Fuck,” he said, and did it again, setting up a fast pace, grinding
against her clit every time he moved.

He bent and captured her mouth with his,
his tongue hot and wet against hers, and Callie felt the world falling away
around her. She moaned against his mouth, and he lifted his head, his gray eyes
glittering in the moonlight.

“Come for me,” he whispered, still moving,
and kissed down her neck to her breast. He swirled his tongue over her nipple
and plucked at it with his lips, and it was enough to tip her over the edge.

“Oh,” she said, half conscious that he’d
lifted his head to watch her as she came. But there was nothing she could do
about it, because the orgasm had her in its grasp, and she could only cry out
and give in to the fierce clenches. They seemed to go on forever, and while her
body pulsed, without thinking she dug her fingernails into his back and scored
down it.

“
Aaahhh
…” Gene shuddered and lifted
up to thrust harder, giving in to his climax just as hers released her. She forced
her eyes open to watch him stiffen, his muscles hardening even more, if that were
possible, as if his body had been turned to stone, a frozen monument of the
perfect moment. His hips jerked and he cried out, pushing forward so hard she
imagined that he would pierce her right through to the mattress.

“Fuck.” He almost yelled the word as his
body finally relented and released him. His breaths came in great gasps, and
when he opened his eyes, Callie was shocked to see them filled with anger.

Moving back, he held the condom as he
withdrew, sat back on his haunches and disposed of it, then flung himself onto
his back and covered his eyes with an arm.

Callie looked up at the ceiling, her own
breathing gradually slowing, and tears pricked her eyelids. He was angry with
her, because now the paroxysm of lovemaking had subsided, his better nature had
returned. He hadn’t wanted to give in to their obvious desire for each other,
but she’d made him, or at least he felt that she’d provoked him until he’d been
unable to say no.

She clenched her jaw until her teeth ached.
Well that was bullshit, because he was a grown man, and at any point he could
have stopped. She might have encouraged him, but she’d hardly stripped naked on
the front step. And even if she had, that didn’t mean he had to take advantage
of the moment. She hadn’t forced him to make this choice. He’d lost control,
and that wasn’t her fault. Like all men, he’d been led astray by his own
desires.

She rolled her head to look at him. His arm
lay over his face, and his chest was still heaving. His other hand rested on
his stomach, clenched into a fist. His body looked like a black-and-white
photograph in the moonlight, all silver muscles and shadowed hollows, and part
of her wished she had the courage to reach for her phone and take a photo of
him to remind herself of this night. He’d tucked himself back into his briefs,
but his trousers still lay open, the top of the scar on his hip just visible.
Would she ever get to see the rest of it? Somehow, she thought not.

Listening to his breathing gradually
leveling out beside her, his arm still over his face, she fought not to let the
tears fall. She might not have forced him into this, but that didn’t mean she
wasn’t foolish. She should have guessed he’d feel this way afterward. Whatever
happened now, she had to bear some of the blame. Men were weak, and she’d been
an idiot not to take that into account.

Gene’s heart was pounding on his ribs as if
it were trying to break through and escape across the room, but after a few
minutes it began to slow and his breathing gradually returned to normal.

Still, he didn’t move. His arm blocked out
the shine of the moon through the window, and also the view of Callie lying
next to him.

He knew he was being rude. He’d just made
passionate love to possibly the most beautiful girl—both inside and out—that
he’d ever met, and since he’d come, he’d done the equivalent of rolling over
and going to sleep. She didn’t deserve that.

The mattress lifted beside him, and he felt
Callie roll off and heard her pad over to the bathroom. The door closed.

He lowered his arm and stared up at the
ceiling, then got to his feet and walked over to the window. The vineyard
rolled away from him in stripes of silver and black. Far above, the Milky Way
looked like spilled milk across the glittering sky.

Leaning on the window, he rested his head
on his forearm.
You fucking idiot.
Getting involved with a client was
number one on the personal protection officer’s What Not To Do list. Being a
bodyguard was about solid concentration, about not getting distracted, and the
worst thing he could have done was give in to his lust. He despised himself for
being so weak. Not only was he risking Callie’s safety, but she deserved so
much more than a one-night stand, especially considering what she’d been
through with her ex. It didn’t matter that he hoped to date her once Kirk was
caught. He’d deceived her by not telling her the truth about his true reason
for being there. Once she learned that, she might not want to see him, and by
seducing her, he’d only served to confuse things more.

No doubt she thought it was her fault for
flirting with him. She wouldn’t understand that even though he’d expressed his
desire to wait, he’d seduced her nevertheless, by having dinner with her,
drinking wine with her, and buying the fucking rose. Why the hell had he done
that? How was that maintaining a business relationship? It was entirely his
fault, and now he could only blame himself if everything went tits up.

The bathroom door opened behind him. He
pushed off the window and turned to see Callie exiting the room. She looked at
the bed first, stopped as she saw it empty, sighed as she presumably thought
he’d left, then inhaled sharply when she saw him standing by the window.

“I thought you’d gone,” she said.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he replied softly.

She walked forward to stand by the window.
The moonlight slanted across her. Her golden hair became a sheet of silver, her
body like a marble statue of a Greek goddess. She crossed her arms over her
breasts, telling him she felt uncomfortable with him because of what he’d done.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He stepped close,
wrapped his arms around her, and turned his back to the window, not liking her
being exposed to anyone lurking in the shadows.
Bit fucking late for that,
he thought, but all he could do now was thank his lucky stars that she was
safe, and make sure he protected her better in the future.

She stayed stiff in his arms, although she
rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Don’t be angry with me,” she whispered.

“With you? Honey, I’m angry with myself,
not with you. I could never be angry with you.” He kissed her hair, stroking
her back.

“I thought you resented me coming on to
you.”

“No.” He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel
of her silky skin beneath his fingertips. “Of course not. I’m flattered. I’m
cross with myself because it’s unprofessional to become involved with you. I
told myself that many times, but I suppose it says something about how
attracted I am to you that I couldn’t keep away.”

She placed her hands on his chest and
pushed back to look up at him. Her face was dry, and her eyes held a touch of
rebellion. “Don’t regret this,” she said. “It’s the best thing that’s happened
to me for months.”

“I won’t,” he said, although he did,
because he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d jeopardized his chance of a
future with her. “But it can’t happen again, Callie.”

“I know.” Her eyes looked like the night
sky, the pupils encompassing almost all of the irises. He couldn’t tell what
she was thinking. Was she just saying what she wanted him to hear? Or did she
truly believe that? Something twisted inside him. What a hopeless situation.

He touched her cheek, and when she didn’t
pull away, he kissed her, long and lingering. Her lips were dry and soft
beneath his. She remained passive, letting him kiss her, but not returning it,
with no sign of the passion that had been evident while they’d been making
love, which had been better than he’d fantasized, and he had a pretty good
imagination. The memory of plunging into her warm, wet body was making him hard
again, and he didn’t want her to be aware of that, so he moved back
reluctantly. “I’d better go to my own room.”

“Okay.”

He released her and slipped his shirt and
then his waistcoat on, and shoved his feet back in his shoes. Finally, he
collected his phone and wallet.

When he turned back to her, he saw that
she’d pulled on the sweatshirt he’d loaned to her in Christchurch. “It’s cozy,”
she protested when he raised an eyebrow. “I’ll give it back to you when we get
to Wellington.”

“Keep it. It looks better on you than it does
on me.” There was something sexy about a woman in a man’s clothes.

She accompanied him to the door and held it
open for him. He hesitated in the doorway. “Thank you,” he said. He was
grateful not just because she’d given herself to him, but because she hadn’t
argued when he’d tried to explain why he was angry. That boded well for the
future, he thought.

She rested her head on the doorjamb. “See
you for breakfast?”

“Of course.” He scratched the back of his
neck. “I know I have no right to ask a favor of you, but can you not tell Neve
about what happened tonight?”

She blinked, her eyes inscrutable. “I won’t
be telling anyone, Gene.” She pushed off the doorjamb. “Sleep well.”

“’Night.”

The door closed.

*

The next morning, as he sipped his coffee
at the breakfast table, Gene glanced at Callie’s face and thought that she
looked as if she’d had even less sleep than he’d had. Her usually flawless
complexion bore a dark smudge beneath each eye.

He was relieved that she’d smiled at him as
they’d walked into the restaurant, but he noticed that she only ordered a bowl
of muesli, and now she was stirring the oats and fruit with her spoon while she
read from her iPad, unusually quiet compared to the bright chatter she usually
exhibited.

“So, off to Nelson today,” he said.

“Yes. The final city on our whistle-stop
tour.” She ate a strawberry, and Gene found himself watching her lips move as
she chewed, his body tightening when her tongue peeked out to catch a drop of
milk from her lip.

He lowered his gaze and concentrated on his
bagel. “Three appointments there, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s right. All in the afternoon.”

They were as polite as strangers. Nobody
listening would have guessed that the night before they’d done the most
intimate thing two people could do together, naked in the heat and the dark.

Well, what had he expected? Had he thought
she wouldn’t be affected by his attitude and the way he’d acted?

I won’t be telling anyone, Gene.
Was she ashamed of what they’d done? Did she wish it hadn’t
happened? And yet she’d also said,
Don’t regret this… It’s the best thing
that’s happened to me for months.
Maybe she just wanted to keep it private.
He hoped she wouldn’t tell Neve anyway. He knew girlfriends often confided in
each other, but he didn’t want the feisty Neve telling Phoebe he’d let them
both down.

He pushed away his plate, the bagel
half-eaten, and Callie did the same, fruit and oats still swimming in the milk.

“Shall we go?” she said.

He nodded, and they left to retrieve their
cases.

As he took the road west out of Blenheim,
he wondered what he could say to make things better, but he couldn’t think of
anything. He’d been so stupid. He didn’t know which part of his actions was
worse—sleeping with someone he’d promised to protect, or rejecting her once
he’d done so.

There was no point in apologizing again—he
was sure that would only irritate or annoy her. He couldn’t say that his
declaration that it couldn’t happen again was wrong, because he had to distance
himself from her now and remain professional. Telling her how wonderful it had
been to take her to bed would be rubbing salt into what was obviously a sore
wound. So what was there to say?

Still, his heart ached as the fields and
vineyards disappeared in his rearview mirror and the countryside became wild
and mountainous. The road wound up thickly forested hillsides and down into
valleys that glistened with deep green rivers.

Gene would have liked to have discussed the
views, but something in Callie’s reserved manner made him keep his mouth shut.
They stopped at a place called the Crab Pot Café for lunch, but in spite of the
glorious food, neither of them ate much, and it wasn’t long before they were on
the road again.

Callie remained quiet, and in the end Gene
put on some classical music and just drove, leaving her to her own thoughts and
cursing his idiocy all the way. Although it was a winding road, it wasn’t long
before the road dipped and turned toward the coast, and suddenly there was
Tasman Bay before them, sparkling a gorgeous blue in the summer sun.

“Oh,” Callie said, the first word she’d
uttered for about thirty minutes.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He couldn’t help but
comment, desperate to get her talking to him again.

“It is. I love Nelson. I could easily live
here.” She sat up straighter in her seat, peering past him to look at the sea.
It couldn’t have been a more beautiful day. “The sun always seems to shine
here.”

“You’re right. It has its own little
micro-climate, and it’s the sunniest place in New Zealand. We’re staying in a
villa near Tahunanui Beach, if you’d like to have a walk along the sands
later.” He tried to keep a pleading note out of his voice, but he wasn’t sure
he’d succeeded.

She nibbled her bottom lip. “I don’t feel
we did lunch justice, either. Maybe we should go to a seafood restaurant tonight.”

He glanced across at her. Her eyes were
guarded, but hopeful. Maybe she was eager for the atmosphere between them to
improve as much as he was. They’d come to enjoy a relaxed camaraderie that he
hoped she was missing too.

“I’d love that,” he said. “A huge bowl of
green-lipped mussels swimming in white wine and cream with garlic bread.”

“Oh… now you’re talking.” Her eyelids
fluttered dreamily, not unlike the way they had when she’d come.

Gene stifled a sigh. Best not to let his
mind wander down memory lane again. He could think about that moment forever
and never get bored.

He navigated the busy roads to the middle
of the city and parked, and they spent the next few hours finishing off the South
Island appointments. Callie was in good spirits by the time she finished.
Again, two of the stores agreed outright to stock the Four Seasons brand, and
the manager of the third hinted the answer might be yes once she’d checked with
her head office.

Gene drove them to the villa, which turned
out to be a cream-colored colonial-style building with a white portico and a
picket fence surrounding neat gardens, only a short walk from the beach.

“Walk first or dinner?” Gene asked. “It’s
nearly six o’clock.”

“Ooh, dinner. I’m starving.”

So they walked a short distance to a
seafood restaurant that jutted out into the ocean, and sat at a table by the
window, looking down at where the sea lapped at the legs of the pier and the
dark shapes of fish slithered beneath the surface.

Callie’s reserved mood seemed to have
passed, and they spent a long while dipping into a huge bowl of mussels,
soaking up the liquid with bread, and then finishing off with strong coffee
while they talked.

She appeared to have forgiven him for the
way he’d acted, and she seemed keen to move on, keeping him talking by asking
lots of questions about his interests, steering clear of the Army and anything
else he supposed she thought might upset him. She was a talented
conversationalist, putting him at ease, and he began to see why she was
obviously doing so well with her business, winning her customers over with her
sheer charm.

Gene knew he should have been delighted.
They were getting on again, and it looked as if the faux pas he’d been
responsible for hadn’t prompted her to end their business relationship, which
meant he didn’t have to tell Phoebe or Neve or anyone else that he’d screwed
up. He’d spoken to Kev that morning, and Kev had said everything was still
quiet, and the STG had reassured him they were hours from finding Kirk.
Everything was going well.