Secret Nights at Nine Oaks (9 page)

He kept tasting and the feelings magnified and blossomed.

She let him have what he wanted, loving the fierceness of his touch, the gentleness of his embrace. She crossed her arms, pulling her shirt off and dropping it to the floor. The bra followed. She straightened and worked her slacks off.

Cain was treated to the erotic sight of peeling fabric and flawless flesh. It left him incapable of moving, his gaze ripping over her. She wore only a black thong. She moved closer, unfastening his shirt buttons, but Cain couldn't be bothered and tore off his shirt, popping buttons in his eagerness to feel her skin next to his.

Phoebe was almost stunned by the sight of his body. The muscles molded his frame like sculptured ropes of power, flexing as he tossed aside the shirt.

“What?” he said when she stared.

“You don't sit behind a desk all the time.”

“I have a lot of time on my hands.”

Now he was hers. He was her prisoner, and she explored him, her hands gliding delicately over his skin. The simple act tightened his grip on her waist. Then she slicked her tongue across his nipple and he trembled for her.

She pulled his belt free, swinging it once before she dropped it, then sent his zipper down. His hands curled
into fists, knuckles popping, and she could taste the tension in him, see it in the flex of his jaw. He was hard perfection and this would be fast and heated, she knew. There was nothing stopping their first taste of each other and she planned on it going on for a while.

Forever, if she had a choice. The thought made her still for a second.

“Phoebe.”

“There are no rules, Cain. Not with us.”

Then her hand dipped inside his trousers, and she enfolded him. He slammed his eyes shut, throwing his head back with a deep growl of male pleasure. His throat worked, his arousal flexed in her hand.

She stroked him, pushing his trousers down and he looked at her, pulling her hand free.

“I won't make it,” he said honestly and was surprised he had any control left.

He kissed her, his hands sweeping her ripe body, teasing her with a dip and stroke, then slipping inside her panties and toying with her center. Her breathing increased, and Cain wanted more of her, needed her so desperately and for a moment, he wondered how he'd survived all these years without her.

Then he gripped the delicate thong, and tugged. It popped and he tossed it aside.

“Oh, you enjoyed that.”

“Every man's fantasy? You betcha.”

He moved forward till her back was braced on the bedpost, the giant Rice bed looming beyond, tempting them with wild play. But Cain wanted to have his fantasy with Phoebe, to play out the dreams that had been torturing him since she walked through the door again. His hands on her waist slid upward, coasting under her arms and pushing them high. Then he wrapped her hands around the carved post. “Hold on.”

“I'll need to?”

“Yeah.” His look was savagely erotic with promise. “Don't let go.”

She smiled, and he bent and took her nipple deep into the hot suck of his mouth. She inhaled and moaned, arching and with his knee, he spread her thighs, his fingers sliding warmly and smoothly, teasing her with light pressure. She was vocal, telling him how good that felt, wanting more, deeper, longer strokes, and her hips thrust into his touch. But he wouldn't give her what she wanted, not enough to satisfy her, and she was panting, begging him.

It was exactly what he wanted. She was a strong woman, candid and outspoken, and Cain had little power. Here he did.

He discovered her, what made her squirm, what brought her closer to the edge of a climax. His mouth found the sweet under-curve of her breast, the ticklish
spot on her ribs, and he heard her gasp when he dragged his tongue down the line of muscle to her navel.

He swirled and licked, and her legs softened. She gripped the post. “Cain. Oh Cain.”

He ran his hand over her behind, pausing to dip into her and stroke her liquid center, then he curled his long fingers around her knee, and lifted it to his shoulder.

“Oh my sweet heaven,” she gasped.

He left nothing to chance, no inch of her delectable skin untouched. His broad hands splayed her hips, thumbs teasing her center. He looked up, met her stormy gaze, then peeled her open.

He tasted her.

She slammed her eyes shut, her breath tumbling as he pleasured her. Years alone had not dimmed his expertise, but made him precise and intense. In seconds, she was close, and he possessed the bead of her sex in every way. He brought her near and receded, chuckling when she demanded, when she told him this was divine and he'd get his.

“You first,” he growled when she was shivering, till her breathing was fast and hot. Till her body glistened with sweat.

Then he plunged two fingers inside and pushed her over the edge of rapture.

She climaxed beautifully, a ribbon of feminin
ity bending, her body flexing and pawing beneath his touch.

“Cain. Cain!”

He didn't answer, silent in his assault, loving how she spoke of her feelings, of what he did to her body, her heart. And the cries, oh yes, the cries were like music to his ears.

She'd yet to settle past the pulse of her climax, was still in the throes of it when Cain stood, sweeping an arm around her and pulling her with him onto the bed. He shucked his trousers, his erection fiercely hard, and she curled toward him, her hand sliding over his body, pulling him onto her.

“Cain. Now.”

He produced a condom and she applied it deftly, quickly, watching his eyes flare, feeling him elongate for her. Her throat went tight again, and she kissed him.

“Now,” she said. “Please.”

“Yes, now.” He plunged deeply, filling her in one smooth stroke.

She felt his trembling all the way to her spine.

He slammed his eyes shut, the pulse of her body trapping him more than he could bear.

When he opened his eyes she was staring at him, then pressed her forehead to his, rasping her thumb over his lips as she said, “I feel like I've waited an eternity for this.”

Shock and pleasure riddled him. “Me, too.”

The need to move took them, stole her breath as she rose and came back to him.

Gone was the tortured emotion he hid. With each plunge came a new man, the one she knew before life was cruel to his heart. He braced a hand on the headboard and held her gaze as he left her and pushed home. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and pulled him deeper, wanting him harder, faster, but he was intent on her pleasure, on satisfying her when she knew he was ready to explode.

The wet slide of him pulsed with savage desire. Their pace quickened. The bed shook, their climax rushing ahead of them.

Cain wanted to slow down but it was impossible. He thirsted, his need to claim her, if only this way, was rooted in his being. Not in sex.

His hips pistoned, her body a slick glove pulling pleasure from him. She splayed her hands on his chest, taunting him with words, with her hands.

She hid nothing from him, open and bare, and for a moment, they watched him disappear into her. He met her gaze, loving that she was not timid, that she was herself in all aspects. Her boldness was part of her, her need to find freedom in everything, and Cain clutched her close to his heart, hoping to know it, share it. Even when he knew he would not.

Their gazes locked, the searing heat destroying his reservations about himself, her, his life.

“This will never be enough,” he said. “Never.”

“I know. I know.”

And he lowered onto her, cupping her buttocks and rolling to his back with her locked to him.

She rose up, smiling, knowing she had the power and he gave it to her.

On a mound of pillows, Cain enjoyed the splendor of her, leaning up to capture her nipple. Her hips shot forward, her body sliding slickly onto his. She gripped his shoulders, holding his gaze, her quick breaths, her tender pleas to join her were enough to destroy him. He was there, sheer will keeping the explosion back and he dribbled his hands down her body and touched the bead of her sex with infinite care. She slammed down onto him and found rapture.

The eruption tore through them with bone-racking power. The pound of bodies tore passion from its cage and Cain gripped her, grinding her to him and she answered the push, equal in her pleasure, her need, her demand.

He cried out her name.

She cupped his face, and thrust, experiencing his pleasure, watched it darken his eyes, turn them liquid wild, releasing all he kept banked from the world.

Feminine muscles tightened, and his shattering pulse made him buck. She held on, suspended and fused with him, and they clutched for long breathless moments, riding the wave of their pleasure.

Phoebe collapsed on him, breathing hard, and Cain held her, silent, his chest aching with emotions he didn't want to examine. He kissed her hair, her cheek, and when she lifted her head to look at him, there was a tear in her eye.

“Phoebe?”

“I knew it would be like this, you know.”

He stared for a moment, thinking of lies he might tell, ways to keep his heart out of this, but right now, he couldn't. “Yeah, I think, so did I.”

She laid her head down and sighed, and Cain felt at once free and chained tighter to his past.

C
ain stood on the balcony outside the master suite, staring at the moon glistening on the river. The view was spectacular, despite the shifting storm clouds threatening to unleash again. Yet a gale raged inside him and he glanced back at the bed.

The air-conditioning stirred the drapes, revealing the tiny beauty sprawled in his bed. The last few hours bloomed in his mind with the power to leave him hungry for more of her.

What have I done?

Cain didn't regret the last hours; the passion be
tween them was unlike anything he'd experienced before with any woman.

But then, he knew it would be.

It was the reason he'd avoided her since that first kiss under the stairs. She consumed him, and he felt almost obsessed with having her again. Always. He could spend a lifetime with her, and he'd never have enough of her sweet, vibrant energy.

But morning would bring reality, he thought, and when she stirred on the sheets, he was reluctant to speak to her.

To end it.

He forced himself to move toward her, tugging the sash of his robe. She rolled to her back, her bare body seductively draped in sheets.

“I'm hungry. Feed me.”

He chuckled to himself and settled on the edge of the bed. She sat up and scooted close, her slender arms sliding around his neck. She kissed him, the heat gathering and stealing Cain's will. With a groan, he deepened the kiss and drew her across his lap, running his hand upward from her thigh till he cupped her bare breast. He rolled her nipple under his thumb, feeling it peak deliciously for him.

She arched into his touch, gasping for air. “I'm
really
hungry.”

“So am I.”

He pushed her to her back, his warm mouth laving over her breast, drawing on her nipple. She curled toward him, as if all her nerves were locked between his lips.

“Cain, Cain.” Frantically, she searched the bedsheets for a condom packet.

His hand slipped between her thighs, fingers sliding and teasing. “You're so beautiful when you're like this.” She was spread wide and uninhibited, letting him see every curve, feel every sensation he created in her.

“Now,” was all she said, tearing at his sash. She enfolded him, sheathing him as he moved between her thighs.

“Phoebe.” He hadn't meant for it to go this far.

He thrust, burying himself in her, and she arched passionately, then jerked back till he left her completely. He plunged again. And again.

And she coaxed him faster, her hands taunting his restraint, and braced above her, Cain withdrew and answered the rushing passion.

They were savage, flesh meeting flesh and melting into one stream of heat and desire. He was afraid he'd hurt her yet she answered him, wild and erotic. The clash pushed them across the bed till she was gripping the headboard and begging him to let go. He gripped her hips bringing her to him, a passion
ate command quickly taking them over the edge of passion and into a spine-tingling climax.

His gaze never left hers. Her eyes expressed her desire, and something more. Something he'd longed to see in a woman—in Phoebe.

It slayed him.

Because even as they collapsed onto the bed, Cain knew he couldn't have her. Not the way he wanted. Completely. Phoebe would want the same from him, and he could not give it.

Ever.

Sheltering the feelings in his heart was far better than seeing loathing in her eyes.

 

Cain stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at her as he buttoned his shirt. She'd slept all night without waking. Probably for the first time since Kreeg had ruined her life. While it pleased him, Cain knew they'd made a mistake.

He'd
made the mistake.

He should have shown more willpower, he should have kept his distance. But with her, he had no will and he'd only himself to blame.

But Phoebe would be hurt. He hated himself for it already, yet she'd expect him to leave Nine Oaks and return to the life he had before Lily died.

He wouldn't. In that, nothing had changed.

His chest tightened, a knot locking around his heart. When she rolled to her side and smiled at him, Cain savored it for a moment, memorizing the look of pure contentment on her face.

“Good morning.” She rose to her knees, naked and rosy and the temptation to have her again nearly stole his breath. He would never have enough of her and without asking, he knew she'd want more than he could give.

“You're dressed already?”

“I have work to do.”

“Could I interest you in taking another day off?” On her knees, she reached, her fingertips dipping beneath his belt and tugging him closer.

“Phoebe, last night—”

“Was great.”

“It was magnificent, however—”

Frowning, Phoebe let go and eased back, a horrible feeling skating over her spine. “However what?” She could feel the blow coming before it struck.

“I think this was a mistake.”

Tension leaped into her and she snatched up the sheet, pulling it with her as she left the bed. “How can you say that?”

“Passion isn't everything.”

“It's a damn good start and who says that's all there is? Don't you know how I feel about you?”

Please don't say more,
he thought.
Please don't.
“It wouldn't matter.”

“Oh really? Why?”

“I won't leave Nine Oaks, Phoebe, and I know you're expecting me to now.”

Angry heat flamed her face. “Don't tell me what I'm thinking or what I want, and yes, I do want you to leave here, but for your sake, not mine! Good God, you are so dense sometimes.” She threw the sheet around her like a toga. “I want you to come back to the real world, Cain, for you. You're not happy and you won't be till you face what's out there.” She gestured to the balcony. “And making love with you has nothing to do with it. You've hidden long enough. I know Lily did something to make you this way, and right now, I hate her for it.”

Cain said nothing.

Phoebe felt it, that door slamming, the emotional shield closing him off from her.

And it hurt.

God, it hurt.

Her heart burned, her eyes seared and she blinked. “Damn you, Cain. It doesn't need to be like this.”

Her tears destroyed him, each one cutting him to ribbons down to his soul. Cain wanted things to be different, wished to God that he'd followed his heart nine years ago and not his head. But right now, his
head was clear. Staring into her teary eyes, he knew—his heart was breaking.

She moved toward the door.

“Phoebe.”

“Go to hell, Cain.” She stepped out the door and shut it behind herself.

I don't need to go to hell, Cain thought, staring at the empty room.
I'm in it.

And he'd made it himself.

 

Phoebe hurried toward her rooms, covering her mouth, and wanting to scream
why!
Inside her room, she shut the door and fell back against it. The tears came, hard and mean, and she crumpled to the floor in a heap, and let them fall. She cried for the man Cain once was, for the one she'd glimpsed this week, and last night, for the passion they'd shared and never would share again.

He couldn't see a future, refused to see anything beyond the walls of Nine Oaks. Drawing him out had changed nothing and Phoebe told herself she had to face the fact that the past few days were merely a vacation from reality.

He's still in a damn cave, she thought.

 

Cain heard the chink of china and looked up as Benson deposited the tray on his desk with more force than necessary.

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

Cain frowned at his bitter tone. “No, Benson. Thank you.” Yet Benson didn't move, staring down at him as if looking down his nose in disgust. “Have you something to say?” Cain asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“And?”

“You're an ass, sir.”

Cain's brows shot up.

“You have allowed that witch Lily to ruin your life yet again, and now you are also letting her ruin Miss Phoebe's.”

“You've seen her?” Cain hadn't seen Phoebe in two days. They'd avoided each other when Cain wanted nothing more than to go to her. But he had nothing to say.

“Yes, I have. At present she is in the gym, sir, beating the stuffing out of a punching bag.”

Cain scowled darkly. “Anything else, Benson, since you seem to be airing your feelings today?”

“Not anything I'd want repeated in civilized company,
sir.
” Benson spun around and left, shutting the door hard.

Cain threw down his pen and mashed a hand over his face. Great. He left his offices and headed to the gym where, as Benson said, she was going to town on a punching bag.

The instant he drew near, she stopped, met his gaze, then went back to pounding.

“Phoebe.”

“I'd stand clear if I were you.”

“I took advantage of you, and I'm sor—”

She stilled, glaring at him and cut him off with, “If you try to apologize for making love to me, I'm going to break something
very
expensive. And we took advantage of each other. And you know what?” She walked up to him breathing hard, sweating, and he wondered if he should duck. “I loved it. Every second of it. And I don't regret it.”

“Neither do I!”

“Then why are you apologizing?” The pain and hurt in her eyes stung him again. He was right in doing this, he knew. She would not stay here, locked away, and he'd never expect her to. Cain could face Phoebe, but not the world beyond Nine Oaks. Not the crimes he'd committed.

“I've hurt you.”

“You're hurting yourself and you're lying to yourself. Big, strong, rich and powerful Cain Blackmon, and you let some ghost haunt you?”

“And you're letting Kreeg haunt you,” he threw back.

“Kreeg is not stopping me from enjoying life. He's stopping me from a good night's sleep.” She
lifted her gloved hand to her mouth and used her teeth to free the knots. Cain came to her, holding the glove and helping her.

“You're wasting your life.”

“It's mine to waste.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “And what about me, Cain? Do I mean nothing to you?”

His eyes flared. “You mean everything to me.”

Somwhere in her heart, a spark lit. “Then tell me about Lily, about the rotting boat on the shore.”

Cain went still as glass, his gaze riveted to her, but not seing her. “No.”

“Why?”

“No!” He turned and left.

Phoebe sagged and threw the gloves across the room and snatched up a towel, wiping her face. She'd had free access to everything except the boats. Lily had died in a boating accident.

Refusing to let this go, she left the gym, listening for the sound of his voice, his footsteps. She found him on the back veranda, his hands on the stone rail, his shoulders stiff. His head was low, as if a great weight pushed it down.

“I understand your need to shut out the world, Cain. I did that. But now it's time to get back in and fight.”

“Leave it alone, Phoebe. Please.”

“Don't leave me, Cain,” she said softly. He lifted
his gaze to hers. “You left me nine years ago. Don't do it again.” Tears choked her throat, fracturing her voice.

She loved him. In that splintered moment, she knew it without a doubt.

“Phoebe, I can't. You don't know what I've done.”

“Then tell me and let's work past it.”

His ugly past pressured him to cut the ties and go back to the way things were before she entered his life again. He didn't want to. God, he wanted her to stay, to be a part of his life, just as she was a part of his heart.

She was the breath that moved each day along, he thought.

“Cain, talk to me.”

“It's no use, Phoebe.” She'd despise him and be gone anyway, he thought. “I can't give you what you want. I won't leave here and I won't ask you to stay.

“And if you did? What do you think I'd say?”

“It would be cruel to you, sweetheart.” He passed a hand over her hair, cupped her jaw. “You're so vibrant and alive.”

“And you were last night, too.”

His lip twitched, and Cain gazed into her soulful eyes, and wanted to end his seclusion. “I will not leave here.”

Her expression fell and she stepped back. “Then I will.”

“What?”

“I'm leaving. In the morning.”

“It's your choice.” The heart-wrenching pain in his chest made his words soft, and as she turned away, Cain knew he was watching his one chance at something wonderful slip through his fingers.

She won't be here every day, a voice said. Cain wondered how he'd survive. How he'd breathe without her near.

 

Phoebe hung up the phone, old fear skating through her. She hugged herself, walking through the house without any direction. Beyond the walls a storm raged in tandem with her feelings.

“Who was on the phone?”

She stopped, refusing to look at Cain. “No one.”

“Phoebe.”

“Leave it alone. I don't need your help.”

“I want to help.” He reached for her, touching her shoulder and she flinched and whipped around to glare at him.

And Cain saw fear. He frowned. “Phoebe, tell me what's wrong? What's happened?”

“That was my lawyer. Or rather the one you hired. The trial starts tomorrow.”

“That's good then. It will be over soon.”

“He'll get off and it will never be over!”

She rushed away from him, leaving him standing in the foyer, watching her race up the stairs. Cain spun on his heels and went to his offices, dialing the lawyers. Phoebe refused to testify.

If she didn't, then Kreeg walked.

She'd spend her life looking over her shoulder in fear and want to hide from the world.
She'd become him.
He couldn't let that happen and he hurried to her suite, opening the doors without knocking.