The Wrong Sister (12 page)

Then he brushed the nightdress off her shoulders and it slid down the length of her body with his eyes following it. In seconds, it had puddled around her feet, soaking wet.

He bent and pushed it out of the way. Although she was bruised and grazed, the fire in his eyes told her she was beautiful. He kissed his way reverently up to her lips again.

“And you,” she insisted, sliding her thumbs into the waistband of his shorts to lower them.

Christian covered her pale hands with his own much darker ones. “Leave them.”
 

“Skin to skin you said. I want your skin against mine. All of it. Take them off.”

With a slight grimace, he eased the shorts down until he could kick them sideways.

And stood in front of her.
 

Immensely masculine.
 

Fiona’s senses soared into fevered overload. Her eyes roamed over his naked body. Everything she’d only imagined until then was finally displayed for her. She raised one hand to stroke his face, but her arm gave a sharp twinge and she settled for his chest instead. Her fingernails traced through the crisp hair covering his hot skin, dislodging the water-diamonds still sparkling there.
 

She rubbed a tender thumb over one of his small dark nipples, smiling as she felt it harden at her caress. Then stepped closer and laid her face against his shoulder—smoothing her cheek against silk-covered sinew, breathing in his scent.

Christian stood like stone, allowing her exploration. “You’re completely forbidden to me,” he said huskily. “We need to stop right now.”
 

“I can’t,” she said, shooting him a guilty glance. She drew a little away and limped around him, trailing a hand over his hipbone, dropping a soft kiss against his spine and feeling his big body tremble.

“We mustn’t do this, Fee.” His tone was desperate.

“No,” she agreed, still stroking his skin, sliding lower to scrape her fingernails down to his groin. “No—we certainly mustn’t. This is not permissible.” She closed her hand around his hard swaying cock.

Christian swore.

“And,” she whispered, “I couldn’t stop myself right now, if my life depended on it.”

He gathered her against him, trapping her hand between them, and pressing her face against his chest again.

“I just want to hold you,” he murmured, running the other hand down the smooth length of her back and splaying his fingers around her bottom. He reversed the caress for the pleasure of repeating it, and traced the line of her spine downwards again.

Fiona’s fingers clenched around him. She parted her legs a little, inviting exploration.

“We’re not going to do this,” he rasped, trying so hard to convince himself. Trying even harder to keep his fingers decently away from where they itched to wander—and losing the battle.
 

“Mmmm...”
 

“I have wanted you,” he whispered, “probably since the moment I set eyes on you, although I was so in love with Jan I didn’t know it then. You can’t imagine how bad that makes me feel...”

“You loved Jan.”

“Of course I did. I
adored
Jan. She was my perfect wife. And on the day I married her, you appeared.” He dropped a small kiss onto Fiona’s damp hair. “I still remember that strapless dress. Your hair pinned up to show your lovely neck and shoulders.” He bent his head and dragged his lips down her neck, stopping to nip lightly when he felt her pulse pounding. “You were everything that Jan was, and more besides.”

His fingers explored, caressed, stroked her toward flash-point. “For years now I’ve wanted that extra ‘something’ you had, but had the sense to know the only option was to stay well away. Each time I knew you were coming home I had to find an excuse to leave—when I really wanted to be alone with you, talk with you, get to know you.”
 

“Christian…”

“Yeah. Sad, huh?” He nuzzled her neck again. “But I barely trusted myself to keep my hands off you.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, remembering the years of frustration.
 

“You hid it well,” Fiona whispered. “And you’ve got your hands on me now.”

“The timing is hopelessly wrong. Fee, you’re beautiful. You attract me more than you can possibly believe. There’s nothing I want more in this world than to make love to you.” Again he kissed her neck, working slowly up to the sensitive edge of her ear. “But not like this. It’s far too soon. Jan’s memory is way too strong. And you’re not in any shape for it anyway.” He kissed her with deep regret. His other arm wrapped more securely around her.

“So we’ll have to be content with just a hug?”

“Does this feel like ‘just a hug’ to you?”

Her hand flexed around him. His fingers teased her in return.

“We could just...do this for each other...that wouldn’t count as ‘unfaithful’ would it?” Fiona felt ashamed of herself the instant the words left her lips.

“This?” he asked, still caressing her moist flesh with exquisite care.

She dragged her eyes up to his, and saw the guilt in their dark depths.
 

“Go back to bed, you poor girl,” he whispered. “You’re not up for this. You can barely stand.”
 

“But you, on the other hand, are wonderfully ‘up for it’,” she suggested, gently squeezing him and sending him a small smile.
 

And he released her.

She felt a fast-flowing torrent of disappointment and disbelief wash through her as he pulled away. She allowed herself to be helped back into the bedroom and assisted onto the bed. Her heart had been hammering with excitement and longing—now she sensed it starting to lurch with loss.
 

She collapsed against the pillows, stricken with regret, as he returned silently to the
en suite
. She’d been so close to paradise...finally in his arms...but now he’d ripped himself away. Cool shadows flooded in and invaded the bedroom, floating over her as though he’d been bright warm sunshine which was now engulfed by choking cloud.

With great difficulty she raised her aching arms to cover her eyes, trying to hide the searing disappointment that must surely be showing on her woebegone face.

A few seconds later she heard him moving about again, and slid a couple of fingers aside to watch.
 

Her heart hitched as Christian strode across to the bedroom door, locked it, and turned toward the huge bed, rubbing himself dry with one of the big white towels.

She registered the locked door only seconds later. Was he...? Would he...?

Her eyes slid all over him, appreciating his lean strength and beauty...the breadth of his chest and shoulders...his taut belly bisected by the arrogant jut of his long cock.

He’s locked the door?

All the breath left her body as she thought about that. He’d locked the door because he didn’t want them to be discovered. So what was he planning?
 

She lay waiting and watching as he approached the tumbled bed. She let her hands fall from her face. Christian bent and blotted the towel gently over her bruised shoulders and breasts, her waist, her belly-button—and followed with his lips.
 

He ran tender fingers over the inflamed graze on her hip, and dropped the softest of kisses there. Cradled her bandaged knee in both his big hands. And kissed her thigh next to the bandage.
 

Her breath drifted out in a long soft sigh.

“Christian,” she murmured, feeling the frantic pulse of her blood under his lips. She could barely stay still. Every instinct was to grasp his hair and pull him closer.

He dragged his mouth over her skin just a little lower. And lower. As his lips slid along her thigh, his big hands pressed her legs ever more open until he could settle his face between them.
 

Fiona moaned as his bristled cheek rasped down and his hot mouth trailed small kisses over her yearning skin. Then she arched off the pillows with an astounded gasp as his tongue began to flick and lick over thousands of closely-packed nerve-endings.

Slowly she lay back and buried her hands in his inky hair, loving the soft caress of it past her fingers. Her fingertips trailed down his neck and out over his shoulders. And then, as spasms of pleasure-pain started to surge through her, her hands grabbed with hunger, and her nails dug into his flesh.
 

She whispered his name, over and over, as he hovered above her. For long intense minutes he licked and softly suckled, murmuring against her slick flesh, taking her to the very brink of orgasm and then retreating again, over and over.
 

As she writhed against the pillows, her eyes feasted on his engorged dark cock in the shadow beneath his body. It moved with a will of its own—pulsing, flexing, for all the world like a dog scenting prey.

Hunting for me.

And as that thought hit home, so did a great wave of ecstasy...rolling up from somewhere so deep that an animal howl of pleasure was wrenched from her, and repeated and repeated ever more softly with each contraction of her body.
 

CHAPTER TEN

Fiona lay boneless, drugged, stranded, as Christian repositioned himself to rest with his cheek on her inner thigh. He kissed the soft skin there and waited for her to return to him.

Eventually she stirred, and he glanced up with a raised eyebrow and an enquiring smile.

“Yes?”

“Oh God, Christian...”

“Quite a
definite
yes, then?”

“Total yes. Totally fantastic. Yes, you’re wonderful. Yes, we shouldn’t have done it, but...” She tried to lever herself off the pillows and he stopped her by laying a long arm the length of her body and pressing her down again.

“Lie still.”

“But it’s your turn.”

“Your turn was my turn.” His eyes held hers and his smile flashed white.

“What...?”

“Lie down—you’re in no shape for anything more.”
 

She watched as he uncoiled himself until he stretched above her like a living cage. His long shaft brushed against her thigh.
 

He flicked his tongue out, quick as a snake’s, and ran it over her nipple. A sudden flash of his tongue wrapping around one of yesterday’s strawberries came unbidden to her brain. She’d watched it slide over the rosy fruit... then seen his teeth bite down.

“Hurt me, Christian,” she implored. “Punish me for wanting you so much.”

He parted his lips and closed them around her; then his teeth followed. She felt firm suction followed by delicious near-pain as he nipped and worried at her, and couldn’t hold back a soft grunt of satisfaction.
 

He released her and smiled before moving to her other breast in a progression of small soft kisses down one pale slope and up the next. This time he held her eyes with his as he settled his teeth into her more firmly, drawing his lips back and letting her see the source of her pleasure.

“There is
no way
that should feel so good,” she whispered, reaching down between their bodies to wrap her hand around him and return the favor.

She watched as he closed his lips around her and suckled deeply.
   

What’s done is done. There’s no point regretting it.

However much they’d both fought against the attraction, they’d ended up like this. Far too soon. Unacceptably fast by anyone’s standards.
 

Jan, I’m so sorry.
 

Mom and Dad, I’m truly ashamed.
 

Christian, I did
not
expect this to happen.

“We need to get your hair dry,” he eventually said.

“Leave drying my hair. Let me play with you.”
 

He shook his head. “That’s as far as we go.”
 

“As far as
you
go. I haven’t gone anywhere yet.”

“I thought I took you somewhere rather nice?”

“Exactly. I want to take you somewhere nice as well.”

He drew a deep serious breath. “We stop right now, Fiona. I kissed you. I can live with that—almost.”

“You kissed me in some interesting places...”

“Just kisses. However much I might want you, I can’t have you. Not so soon after Jan. Not while you’re injured. You’re still stitched and taped together, for God’s sake.” He touched the dressing at her temple to reinforce his argument. “Not with you working on the other side of the world, either. Thank God we can cool things down while I’m in Japan.”

The words registered dimly in Fiona’s mind.
 

Cool things
down...
 

Already he wants to get away from me? This meant so little to him?
 

A cold tide of dread rushed in, sending drifts of ice skittering across her skin, even as Christian lay resting against her, smoothing his fingers up and down from her belly-button to her breastbone...from her breastbone to her belly-button…in a hypnotic caress.
 

Even as her hand held him like treasure.
 

“Probably for the best then,” she said stiffly, brain flooding with pictures of him at exclusive business dinners attended by geishas. And sitting next to glamorous passengers in the luxurious first-class seats of his flights high above the Pacific Ocean. Being fussed over by beautiful confident flight attendants.
 

Slowly she unwrapped her hand.
 

She knew he’d attract women the way fragrant flowers attracted bees. Surely he wouldn’t resist them all? He’d foisted her off, but maybe not others...

“I should get my hair finished, I suppose.”

His fingers left her skin. He rose from the bed.

“Over there,” she said, indicating the hair drier, and sitting up with much less speed and grace than Christian had. She reached for her black silk robe and wrapped it around herself like a sheet—a token defense. Then she lurched across to the chest of drawers with its big mirror.