Midnight (McKenna Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

I dare to open the
corner of one eye and the white light streams through an open window. I didn’t
close the curtains the night before in my haste to get into bed. Tentatively I
open the other eye, curiosity winning over the pulsating headache. The room is
familiar, as it’s very similar to the one I stayed in the night before last,
the browns and beige color scheme replicated with a touch more sophistication.

I wonder where
Colin is. If I slept in his bed, where did he sleep? I peek at the space next
to me. It’s empty, the cover smooth and untouched. The suite is quiet and I
suspect he’s either still sleeping somewhere or has already left, his schedule
leaving little time for lazy mornings.

Slowly I sit up,
testing the pulsating pushes against my skull. Slipping out of bed I head into
the bathroom for a shower and to take an Advil to ease the throbbing beat
keeping time in my head.

The bathroom is a
maze of white and gray marble with a large multi-head shower pushed into the
corner. Turning on the water, I let it heat to hot while taking a look in the
mirror, grateful there aren’t any visible signs of injury. Stripping off my bra
and underwear, I slide into the shower. The hot water stings and shocks my
chilled skin, but it feels wonderful. The welcome water flows heavenly over my
aching and bruised muscles. Long minutes pass before I begin to wash the prior
day’s misfortunes away.

Memories
of Colin invade my thoughts: his compelling stare, his extreme confidence
and passion for America, his smoking hot body . . . I can’t help my smile.
Colin McKenna is a fine specimen of male virility—and apparently he has the
hots for me.

I’m
not sure how I feel about this. There's no denying I’m attracted to him, but it
all comes back to my past. I'll never get beyond that. No, I take that back. I
might be able to forgive myself, but I’m confident no one else could. Certainly
not Colin, Mr. Perfect in every way.

Ali
would tell me to forget it, that the past won’t affect my future. Enjoy what’s
before me and stop worrying about a history I can’t change. It’s a philosophy
that has worked very well for her, but one I never allowed myself to adopt,
struggling over the years between forgiving myself and self-deprecating
punishment. Sighing, I turn off the water and lean my head against the marble
shower wall, the internal struggle waging war in my already battered head.

There
is a part of my brain screaming to run. Run far away from Colin and don’t look
back. It’s a compelling argument: my past, Colin’s complications and our
disparate lives have very little chance of successfully merging. Then there is
another part of my brain and a frighteningly large part of my heart that’s
insistent I stay, remain here with him to follow the unknown road ahead. That’s
what scares me the most: the unknown. I revel in the odd magnetic pull, the
exciting sexual attraction, and the ease and comfort simply
there
between us. It’s all very exciting, but at the same time the path we’re taking
is blurred. How is it possible anything between us can end well? That frightens
me, but I know without a doubt I’m not strong enough to walk away; not now.
This part of me is winning the battle, so I’ll focus on the present. One day at
a time.

Colin’s
bath has deliciously soft, large towels. I wrap one around myself, enjoying the
supple feeling. The steam from the shower significantly lessened the pounding
in my head and I’m confident that with a few Advil it will be gone altogether.
There are some stowed in a neat basket full of hotel-provided amenities on the
counter, along with a toothbrush. I use both.

Opening
the door to the bedroom, I stumble to a stop at the sight of Colin standing in
the doorway. Neither of us moves, nor do we say a word. I’m sure he can hear
the frantic beat of my heart from where he stands, staring at me.

“Charlie.”

I
shudder at the sound of my name on his lips. His voice is so sensual; my body
thrills at the sound. Suddenly the fabric of the towel is rough against my
skin, coarse against the growing taut buds of my nipples, and my blood pulses
strong, weighing heavy in my groin. Oh, my. A blush steals slowly up my chest
and into my cheeks from the innate longing to run my hands through his soft
hair and pull his face to mine.

“Colin.
Good morning.”

He’s
not so subtle as he pores over every inch of my figure, stalling when his gaze
meets my chest wrapped snuggly in the towel, the flush of my skin contrasting
against the white of the soft terry cloth. When he has his fill, his eyes move
to mine, a small smile touching the corners of his mouth.

“I
had your things brought up from your room so you have fresh clothes.” He waves
toward my bag tucked next to the bed.

“Thank
you.” I’m glued to him, his eyes steaming hotter than the shower, a deep
gray-blue tornado. Seeming as if he’s not sure what direction to take, he moves
a step toward me, but after a brief hesitation he disappointingly changes his
mind and closes the door as he exits the room.

Collapsing
on the bed with a hand over my heart, I take deep calming breaths to clear my
head and get my blood pulsing at a normal pace. After a few minutes I stand to
gather fresh clothes and dress. I’m going to work at the hotel this morning
while Colin and Evan meet with an old friend from college who owns a local
business. Later in the day we’re headed to upstate New York and then ending the
week in New York City.

I
slip into a snug V-neck cream cashmere sweater and a pair of dark jeans. My
hair is painstaking to dry with the travel-size blow-dryer attached to the
wall. I create a mass of waves and loose curls that I tame by twisting and
pinning in an easy bun at the nape of my neck. With bare feet, I walk into the
living room of the suite.

Colin's
on the phone, looking out the window toward the river bending behind the hotel.
He doesn’t notice me at first, deep in conversation. He’s wearing a pair of
well-worn faded jeans that sit low on his hips, and a button-up white shirt
open at the collar, loosely tucked in. I know now this is his casual look, and
it looks good on him—really, really good. Turning as he continues his debate,
he catches my uninhibited gawk.

A
slow smirk lifts the corner of his mouth and his eyes regain the tornado
effect. I wonder if there's a law against causing a person's heart to race
uncontrollably, because if there is, he should be arrested and convicted. Talk
about a health hazard.  Waving a hand to offer up the coffee on the
buffet. His eyes follow me as I make my way across the room, not waiting for
further invitation and practically diving for a cup.

While
I’m stirring the contents, his conversation ends.

“How
do you feel?” His voice is warm, seductive even.

“Very
well, thanks. I took a couple of painkillers and now I’m perfect.”

His
sultry eyes are trained on mine. “Yes, you are.”

I
still, coffee halfway to my mouth. I’m entranced, unable to move, as if he has
placed a spell on me. Regaining a semblance of thought, I put my cup down.
“Colin, what are we doing?”

I
need to know. His constant heated stare drives me wild. I want him.

He
walks toward me, and an easy answer falls from his lips when he reaches his
destination. “Kissing you is what I’m doing.”

His
eyes are dark, sharpened with determination. He wants me. Before I can redirect
him, one arm snakes around my lower back, the other stealing into my coiled
hair, pulling me against his chest. Closing my eyes in anticipation, I focus on
his long, hard body against my breasts and belly. In a heartbeat his soft, full
mouth brushes over my lips. His tongue tastes, barely caressing my lower lip as
he nips it gently between his teeth and then sucks on it gently. A shiver runs
straight through me, an inadvertent moan escaping my now parted lips and he
pounces in response.

From
sweet to urgent his mouth claims mine, passionately, his intentions now
forceful, hungry. His tongue finds mine in a carnal duel.

I
slide my hands up his arms, at first to steady myself and then to learn the
contours of his body. I feel my way over his hard, muscled biceps and shoulders
and my fingers finally rest in the soft curls of his hair.

Colin’s
hand is pressed into my lower back, kneading through the light knit of my
sweater. His breathing heavy, he works his hand lower, exploring my butt,
squeezing and pulling my body even closer into him. His erection presses into
my belly, eliciting a pulsing need directly in my groin that causes my heart to
pound uncontrollably.

I
can’t think; I can only feel. He’s everywhere. His body and mouth are claiming,
taking, insisting I respond and I do, eagerly. His lips break from mine,
nipping his way down my cheek and neck. “You're delicious, Charlie,” he
whispers.

Another
shiver spreads slowly through my body as his tongue and lips follow the opening
of my sweater. Tipping my head back, I groan when his mouth closes over the
skin at the swell of my breast. My nipples lengthen from pure desire, but he
moves in the wrong direction, slowly kissing his way back up my neck until his
lips claim mine again—sensual and slow once more.

In
a moment he pulls away, eyes dark with longing. I can’t break our gaze,
completely entranced with his beauty and his hunger. Drawing in a deep gulp of
air, I try to recover a semblance of coherency. Colin’s hands remain fastened
in my hair and lower back, holding me tightly against him. We stand like this
for minutes, neither willing nor capable of breaking away.

Finally
he smiles a sweet, shy smile, pulling himself to his full height and leaving me
wanting more. Still smiling, he grabs my hand, pulling me gently to a plush
couch in the middle of the room where I fall unceremoniously on the cushions,
sitting on one leg to face him.

“So,
you were asking me something?” he says, with a wicked gleam in his eye, a smirk
marking his mouth. Oh, he's devilishly handsome, a rogue.

It
takes me a moment longer to gather my wits. It really ought to be illegal for
one man to be so hot. It’s impossible to think straight when Mr. McPerfect is
sitting next to me.

“Colin,”
I say slowly, garnering time to put thoughts together. “I . . .” The words fail
to come. His expression is amused, a gentle lift to one side of his mouth.
Softly, but firmly he squeezes my hand—an offering of support.

“What
the hell is going on with us, Colin?” I ask forcefully, with a hint of
irritation. He throws his head back and laughs a good hearty, belly laugh. When
he gains composure, he brings his hand to my cheek, running it softly from my
temple to chin; an involuntary flutter spreads languidly through my entire
body. Maybe I should stand on the other side of the room so we can engage in
normal conversation.

“I
don’t know, Charlie.” My eyes narrow in suspicion.

“You
have to be a bit more decisive. Not knowing isn’t working for me.” My voice
holds an ounce of bitterness. I need him to give me a little insight. “I don’t
have a lot of experience with relationships, or with men in general, for that
matter.” I sigh, embarrassed now. Turning away, I pull my leg out from under
me, putting both feet on the floor. I remove my hand from his grip to find
independence.

Colin
looks none too pleased by the separation, but I continue. “You’re brilliant,
insanely gorgeous, vying to be the most powerful man in the world. You can have
any woman you want; why me?” There. I’ve asked the million-dollar question. Why
Charlie Carter?

He
looks at me like I’ve grown a second head, his smirk never leaving his face.
“Charlie, you’re right. There's a distinct possibility I could choose from any
number of women,” he says. “But I haven’t come across many that tease and
challenge me, make me laugh and take me away from the pressures in my life.”
His tone gentles. He pulls my chin so I’m facing him again. “You’re beautiful,”
he says slowly. “I feel alive with you, something I haven’t felt in a very long
time. I’ve been a robot for so long and with you, I’m not. There's a natural
ease about me when we’re together; it feels right. It’s as simple as that.”

I
shiver at his words, overwhelmed by their meaning. Remaining silent, I wonder
if it can really be that simple.

“I
don’t have much to offer you,” he says.

My
mouth literally falls open; I stare at him like
he
has a second and
third
head. “That makes absolutely no sense. We’ve just gone over a small list of
your attributes, are you asking for more? Does your ego need some padding?” I
tease.

Very
seriously, he says, “You misunderstand me. Yes, I have money and stability, and
I want very badly to be the president of the United States because I’d be a
hell of a good leader to this Country. But Charlie, that’s it. That’s all I’ve
got. I have nothing else to give you,” he says slowly, his face now hard, eyes
unmoving. He’s distant; gone is the lighthearted Colin. Here is a peek at the
man behind the presidential façade. “My heart died years ago.” His voice is so
low I can barely hear him. He pauses for just a minute. “I’m a shell, the
lasting remains of the man I once was. I have no heart to give.”

My
heart breaks for him. Before I can say anything, he continues. “I meant what I
said, Charlie. I enjoy being with you. It
is
that simple. But that’s all
it is. I can only give you one moment, one day at a time. There is no future
with me.” My eyes are wide. I never expected this soliloquy. “I told you I
would always be honest with you and to that I hold true. I will not lie to you,
so believe me when I say this: I want you. I want to be with you. I want to
touch you and feel you next to me. I want very badly to be inside you.” His
eyes close momentarily, and a chill runs down my spine. He continues sadly,
“But it’s all I can offer: my body, a physical connection.” He finishes, eyes
beseeching.