Fall from India Place (On Dublin Street 4)

“Lin?” he asked quietly, his fingers brushing her jaw. Slowly, warily, she lifted her head. She met his stare for the first time since they’d quivered in fused ecstasy. His gaze ran over her face. His brows slanted.

“What is it?” he demanded.

She shook her head, unable to put these chaotic, new feelings into words. What had been happening to her ever since she’d walked into that restaurant and saw Kam sitting at that bar? She hardly recognized herself anymore.

“It was . . . unbelievable,” she finally said inadequately.

His confusion faded as he stroked her cheek. “It was amazing. You are.”

Then he was pulling her down to his mouth, and his kiss made her forget her anxiety.

For a moment.

When he finally sealed their kiss and studied her with quicksilver eyes, she found she couldn’t take this feeling swelling in her breast anymore. She couldn’t breathe.

“I’m just going to go wash up.” She nodded toward a door she assumed was the suite’s bathroom. He nodded and released his hold, but he wore a guarded look as he studied her face. She snagged her new nightgown on the way to the bathroom. She felt his stare on her naked back the whole way. After she’d washed and gathered herself, she returned to the bedroom now wearing the nightgown. Kam had turned down the bedside lamp to a dim setting. He lay propped up on the pillows, the sheet down around his hips, hair mussed, all lean, muscular, beautiful male.

“Do you want me to go?” she asked him quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“No. I want you to take off that gown and get in here with me.”

She arched her brows at his steadfastness. “For another hour or two?”

“Until morning,” he said.

“Are you sure, Kam?”

“Of course I’m sure. Why do you say it like that?” he asked, scowling slightly.

She hesitated. “Something Phoebe Cane said to Maria gave the impression you don’t like spending an entire night with a woman,” Lin said, studying her hand on the dark blue silk duvet. “And then last night—”

“I was being stupid last night. I want you to stay,” he said. Her gaze leapt to his face. He looked fierce and very beautiful to her.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He took her hand and pulled, so that she slid up the duvet closer to him, still in a sitting position. He slipped the straps off her shoulders and lowered the gown over her breasts. He pushed the silk down into her lap and palmed her hips. She experienced that melting, heavy feeling in her lower belly. He not only turned her body into a syrupy mush with his touch, but her brain.

“I also want you to spend the rest of the weekend with me. Until Monday morning.” One hand feathered up her rib cage. She inhaled sharply. He cupped a breast in his hand and ran the pad of his thumb over the nipple.

“I’m not sure those are fair tactics for convincing me,” she said softly.

His gray eyes flickered up to meet hers. “I wasn’t aware there were any rules.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” she whispered when he lifted his other hand and cupped both her breasts at once. He finessed both nipples with his thumb and forefinger. She bit off a moan. Her breasts were still very sensitive, but the gentle pressure felt good. “No rules. No right or wrong. Only pleasure.”

He paused in his caresses. “That’s a problem?”

For a few seconds, she didn’t respond, just studied his handsome, rugged features. His gaze narrowed as he peered at her closely.

“I thought it wasn’t,” she admitted shakily. “But as it turns out, I’m not built like you, Kam.”

Her low voice, and all it implied, seemed to reverberate in her ears in the silence that followed. Slowly, he released her breasts. She missed his warmth. She missed it sorely.

“You mean you’re not built for a casual affair?” he clarified.

She nodded, holding his gaze.

He seemed to consider. “So I would be a real bastard if I insisted you stay after you told me that?”

She smiled. “I don’t know if you’d be a real bastard, but—”

He placed his hand along her jaw. “I’m not a bastard. Not when it comes to you. Stay.”

Her heart seemed to stall in her chest. Not when it comes to you.

“You’re sure?” she asked, her voice sounding a little shaky.

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her over his body. When she landed, she was next to him, her breasts pressed against the side of his chest. She stretched along his length. His mouth covered hers, firm and insistent. Her toes curled against the duvet as that delicious sensation unfurled and spread at her core like a flower made of heat. A dazed moment later, he sealed their kiss, laid her back against the pillows and leaned down over her.

“Do I look sure?” he asked.

She searched his face in the dim light. “You do.”

A small smile shaped his mouth. “You don’t have to look so surprised. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t serious about it. So you’re mine until Monday?”

She smiled and nodded her head. For a heady few seconds, they just grinned at each other.

“So what are you going to tell Ian?”

She blinked, a sudden alarm sounding in her brain. “Tell Ian about what?”

“What’s your excuse for skiving off that brunch meeting tomorrow? Ian mentioned something about it when we talked on Friday. I remember, because he gave me quite a look when I told him he overworked you,” Kam said, the hint of amusement in his tone saying loud and clear that he wasn’t overly concerned by Ian’s annoyance at his observance.