Desire Collection: December Books 1 – 4. Elizabeth Bevarly
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of being the one being shepherded and looked after all the time. It made him feel a little on edge. As if this was his one shot to make things change between them. If he screwed it up, that would be it. He’d not only lose any chance they had of genuinely forming a relationship together, but she’d no doubt hightail it out of the workplace, as well. Nothing had ever felt quite so vital to him before.
He couldn’t understand why things had changed between them, but he wasn’t about to question it. He already knew he trusted Faye with everything that was important to him. She’d been his absolute rock when his brother had died, ensuring everything continued to run while he was away dealing with tying up Quin’s estate. Over the three years they’d worked together they’d formed a synchronicity he’d never experienced with anyone else. Did he dare hope that same synchronicity could spread into the personal side of their lives, too? And this snowstorm, their being stranded together—albeit with a miniature chaperone—it all conspired to open his eyes to what they really could be.
Realizing he was allowing himself to get thoroughly lost in his thoughts, he quickly ladled two large servings of the stew into bowls. After a final check of the tray to ensure he had sufficient cutlery and napkins, et cetera, he took the tray through to the main room.
Faye was staring vacantly into the flames. What was she thinking? She didn’t hear him until he put the tray down on the coffee table and sat beside her on the sofa.
She straightened and moved a fraction away from him, which only made him spread himself out a little more, closing the distance between them. He leaned forward, picked up one of the bowls and passed it to her with a fork.
“Dinner is served,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“Bread?”
He offered the bread basket and was relieved when she took a slice. She hardly ate a thing that he could tell, certainly far less than he did. Clearly she needed better looking after. It was a good thing he was just the man to do it. The thought made him feel a rising sense of anticipation build inside.
Some things were best savored slowly, he reminded himself, and together they ate their meal in companionable silence. It was later, when he’d cleared their plates away and tidied the kitchen, that he made his suggestion.
“Come on, let’s dance some of that dinner off,” he coaxed as he rose and held out one hand.
Faye eyed him dubiously. “Dance?”
“Oh, come on, Faye. Relax. I won’t bite.”
Even as he said the words he felt an almost overwhelming urge to lower his mouth to the curve of her neck and do just that, gently bite her fair skin, then pepper it with kisses to soothe away any hurt. The very idea sent a surge of something else coursing through his veins. Desire. Slick and hot and demanding. He clenched his jaw tight on the wave of need that overtook him. And waited.
It felt like forever but, eventually, she placed one small, pale hand in his and allowed him to tug her to her feet. Piers led her to an open area of the main room and pulled her into his arms. It came as no surprise to him that she fit as though she belonged there. He caught a faint whiff of her fragrance as he held her close. Her choice held a subtle suggestion as to the potential sensuality that lay beneath her carefully neutral surface. The sandalwood base note was warm and heady, and totally at odds with the woman he thought he knew. He’d have thought she’d wear something more astringent, sharper. Something more in keeping with her persona in the office—not that he’d ever had that many opportunities to get close enough to her to smell her perfume, he noted silently.
But right now, right here, on what he fervently hoped would not be their last evening together, they were very close. Piers began to move to the music, enjoying the way she moved with him and relishing the brush of their hips, the sensation of her hand in his and the feel of the subtle movement of her back muscles beneath his other hand. And all the while, those delicate hints of her scent teased and tantalized his senses.
The initial resistance he’d felt in her body began to soften. Her steps became more instinctive, losing the stiffness that showed she was overthinking every move. It was hardly as if they were in a dance competition, but to him it felt as though there was a unity to their movements that led his mind to temptingly explore how well they could move together under other circumstances.
He bent his head and kissed the top of hers. Faye pulled back and looked up at him with wide eyes. Did he dare follow through on what he truly wanted—what he suspected that deep down she wanted, too? Of course he did.
When he took Faye’s lips with his, he felt the shock of recognition pulse through his body. As if this woman in his arms was the one he’d been looking for all his adult life. The need that had been simmering under his carefully controlled behavior ever since their first kiss flamed to demanding life as her lips parted beneath his and she began to return his kiss with equal fervor.
This was more than that incident under the mistletoe the night he’d arrived at the lodge. This was incendiary. Consuming. He wanted her so much he had begun to tremble. He raised his hands to her hair and tugged at the pins that confined it into a knot at the back of her head. The pins dropped unheeded to the floor and her hair fell in thick, wavy tresses past her shoulders. He pushed his fingers through the silken length until he cupped the back of her head and angled her ever so slightly so he could deepen their embrace.
That she let him was more speaking than any words they’d ever shared. That her hands had knotted in his sweater at his waist, as if she had to somehow anchor herself to something solid, told him she was as invested in what was happening as he was.
Relief coursed through his veins. He didn’t know how he’d have coped if she’d pulled away from him completely or if she had asked him to stop. Of course he’d stop, but it would probably strip years off his life to have to do so.
She felt so dainty in his arms, so fragile, and yet he knew she had a core of steel that many people never developed. She was tough and strong, yet vulnerable and incredibly precious at the same time.
Her hands released their grip on his sweater and he felt her tug at the garment before sliding her hands underneath it. Then he felt the incredible sensation of her warm palms against his skin. He groaned ever so slightly and lifted his mouth from hers so he could look again in her eyes—to receive confirmation once again that he wasn’t demanding anything from her that she wasn’t willing to give.
The sheen of desire that reflected back in her blue-gray gaze was almost his undoing. The semi-arousal he’d been hoping wouldn’t terrify her into running away stepped up a notch. He couldn’t help it. He flexed his hips against her. Her cheeks flushed in response and her eyelids fluttered as if she were riding her own wave of sensation.
Piers lowered his mouth and kissed her again, this time sweeping her lips with his tongue and teasing past the soft inner flesh to titillate. She was making soft sounds of pleasure and when he pressed his hips against her again, he immediately felt the hitch in her breath. Her fingers tightened on the muscles of his back, her short, practical nails digging into him ever so lightly. His skin, already sensitive to her touch, became even more so, and a thrill tingled through him.
He gently pulled one hand free of her hair and stroked it down her back to the taut globes of her butt. She was so perfect and she felt so right against him. His hand drifted over her hip and up under her sweater. He felt tiny goose bumps rise on the smooth skin of her belly. Felt each indentation between her ribs, then felt the slippery-smooth satin of her bra. His hand slid around to her back and he deftly unfastened the hooks that bound her.
“I want to see you,” he groaned against the side of her throat. “I want to touch you. All of you.”
“Yes,” she whispered shakily.
It was all the encouragement he needed. He moved away from her only enough to tug her sweater up over her head and to slide the straps of her unfastened bra down her arms, freeing her breasts to his hungry gaze. And there they were—those freckles that had so inappropriately tantalized him only a few nights ago.
Piers