After Midnight (20 page)

“Then let me.” He closed the distance between them. “You were going to say I haven’t fallen for you, weren’t you? You actually believe him? That you’re nothing more to me than convenient?”

Her pulse throbbed thick and hard. Heat radiated off his body. The scent of him filled her head. She wanted, more than anything, to press herself against him and relive the pleasure of his mouth against hers. Instead, she lifted her chin. “Maybe.”

He leaned in close. So close his breath brushed across her lips. “You believe him, but not me?”

“You are here only temporarily.”

“Yes.”

“And I am just down the street.”

“I suppose.”

She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “So the whole thing does seem rather—”

“Don’t say it.”

“—convenient.”

Something dangerous came and went in his eyes. “Now I’m getting angry.”

His hands skimmed down her sides, slipped under her shirt and settled on her lace-covered bottom. Her breath went uneven. Searing need swarmed her.

“You want something to believe, believe this.” He pulled her into the solid ridge of his erection. She lost her concentration. “There is nothing convenient about the way I feel about you.”

“I…no?”

“You think you’re not the type to draw a man’s attention, think again. I can’t stand in the same room as you without wanting to taste you. I can’t taste you without wanting to taste all of you.”

Oh, God. Her knees turned to jelly. A hot, wet pulse came to life between her legs.

“If you can’t see in yourself what it is that I see, feel what you do to me.” Taking hold of her wrist, he placed her hand in the center of his chest.

His heart was racing. She tipped her head back and looked into his eyes. Her bones began to liquefy.

“The way you’re looking at me,” she whispered.

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m important.”

“You are.”

She swallowed hard, wanting to believe him. “Like I’m beautiful.”

His lips brushed across her temple and her eyes drifted shut. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Then you would know how beautiful you are.”

Her eyes snapped open as he spun her in his arms. His hands settled on her shoulders, drawing her back against his chest. She gasped at their image reflected in the trio of mirrors that hung on her wall. When had this become a seduction?

He leaned in and put his mouth to her ear. “You have eyes like fog.” The lilting baritone of his voice washed over her and she let out a little helpless moan. “Truly amazing eyes that change color with your mood. Right now they are blue. Can you see that?”

He skimmed his hands down her arms, trailed his fingers over the backs of her hands. The shock of pleasure stole her breath. Every nerve ending in her body quivered.

“Your mouth is so sexy.” The sound that rumbled in his throat had something curling hard in her stomach. “I imagine the things you could do with that mouth.”

The mouth he spoke of dropped open as he nipped the back of her neck.

“The first time you smiled at me you stole my breath. I spent weeks trying to get you to do it again, struggling to understand what I’d done to stop you from gifting me with your smile. What was it, Isa?”

“You…noticed me.”

“I noticed you? How couldn’t I? Your hair, your skin.” Nimble fingers worked down the front of her shirt, revealing a little more of her skin with every button that slipped free. “I can’t stop touching you. Reaching for you. I imagine my hands on you, light against your dark. Here, on your stomach.”

Isabeau sucked air greedily into her lungs when his hand pressed against her stomach. She stared, mesmerized by the contrast of his pale hand against her darker, golden tones.

“Look at my hands on you.”

His growl was nearly as exciting as those long-fingered hands caressing her skin. The trembling started in her knees and crept up her body. She leaned back into his arms, using his body for support. Against her lower back, his erection pulsed.

She quivered. His name tumbled from her lips as his left hand joined his right on her stomach. Her blood hummed, her body jolted in anticipation. She didn’t realize she’d moved her own hands until denim scraped across her palms. Her fingers dug into his hips, pulled him solidly against her.

“Isabeau.” His mouth skimmed her cheek, her jaw, all while his hands kept moving, caressing. He brushed his thumb along the underside of her nipple once, twice, before his hand closed possessively over her breast. The pulse between her legs became a throbbing ache. “You’re beautiful, Isabeau.”

This time she believed him.

His breathing grew ragged as his mouth moved over her temple. Sensations washed over her, paralyzing her.

Seducing her.

The fingers of his left hand rolled, kneaded her nipple into a tight aching bud. Her fingernails dug into his hips. His free hand slid down the pale line of her scar, lower and lower until it slipped into her panties and cupped her heat. She moaned softly and pressed herself into his hand.

“Look at yourself, Isa. Do you see what I see?”

She saw him, only him. What he was doing to her body became second to what the experience did for him. His whole being seemed to be focused on her and he was lost. Lost in her.

Unbelievable.

She looked at his reflection, gasping as he slid his hand lower, slipping first one finger and then another into her hot slick depths.

She went off like a rocket. Her orgasm ripped through her with the strength of never before. Her body convulsed—a symphony exploded behind her eyes. His name slipped from her on a moan that he caught with his mouth as she tipped her head up to meet his kiss.

A sudden ringing sliced the room’s stillness like a knife. Noah went utterly still, then pressed his forehead to hers. “Bloody hell..”

She turned in his arms, pressed her hand in the center of his chest. “What is that?”

“My mobile.”

Ignoring the phone, he took her face in his hands as he dipped his head and plundered her mouth once more.

She loved it. Loved everything about it; the heat, the little bit of desperation. Closing her eyes, she kissed him back. Her hand moved, slid down his chest, over his abdominals, and then lower still.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist like a manacle. “I have to go.”

What?

His hot gaze moved across her exposed flesh like a physical touch. “The guys are looking for me.”

“Noah.”

“I’ve been gone too long already.” A mix of regret and need colored his features as he released her and stepped back.

Her legs were weak. Her hands shook as she worked the buttons of the shirt back through their corresponding holes. “Will you come back?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied, his voice full of raw hunger. “Plan on me staying the night.”

****

Although she slept better than she had in ages, Isabeau awoke the next morning with a pounding headache. She rolled over, brushed the hair out of her eyes and focused on the ceiling. For a moment, she thought about crawling out of bed, choking down an aspirin and going for her morning run. That moment lasted about two point eight seconds.

The aspirin she needed. The jarring pain her daily run would cause her was a different story.

God, her head hurt. Hurt so bad she couldn’t think straight. What day was it? Was it her turn to open the bar, or Clint’s?

Saturday. Clint’s day to open.

She sighed with relief.

Wait a minute. Saturday was the day she’d agreed to join the guys for soccer.

She groaned.

Ignoring the rich, heady scent that emanated from her programmable coffeemaker, Isabeau closed her eyes against the throbbing ache. She utilized the same techniques she’d used so many times as a young girl to distance herself from the pain. She closed her mind to the sounds around her, her worries and her discomfort. She shut out everything that caused her stress and pictured instead something that brought her peace.

Immediately Noah’s image jumped to the forefront of her mind. Without any effort at all, she recalled the sight of him leaning against her mantel, his green eyes displaying a mix of irritation and arousal. Pressing her fingertips against her forehead, she remembered the feel of his hands in her hair as his thumbs massaged her temples. But that memory was quickly exchanged for another, the one where his hands moved over her body—cupping and caressing—setting every nerve ending on fire.

She settled her hand against her stomach as her body recalled the moment with a bit more enthusiasm than expected. Her limbs began to tingle. A warm sensation pulsed through her blood. A tiny shiver skittered down her spine.

The relentless rhythm returned to join the throbbing behind her eyes.

Isabeau threw back the covers with another groan. She eased to a seated position and slipped her arms into the shirt she’d left at the foot of the bed—Noah’s shirt. His scent enveloped her. The pain behind her eyes intensified.

With a sigh of acceptance, she walked to the coffeemaker and poured herself a mug of coffee. Pulling the bottle of aspirin out of the cabinet above the sink, she choked down two, then carried the mug with her across the room.

When she stepped into the bathroom, she switched on the faucet in her antique claw-foot bathtub and waited for the water to heat up. She had enough time, before she met the guys, for a shower and a trip across town. There was no use denying it any longer. Not if she wanted to avoid debilitating pain. She had no other choice.

The music had taken over.

****

An hour later, Isabeau took a deep breath and pushed through the door of Brown’s Music Emporium. For a moment, no more than a few seconds, the sights and smells once so familiar washed over her, sending her back in time. The moment faded, replaced by the cold reality that her life wasn’t what it used to be. She was no longer a happy child that looked forward to visiting the store, but an adult who wished more than anything that she could have gone the rest of her life without returning.

No matter how many memories assaulted her, she pushed them aside. She didn’t want to recall how much pleasure she’d once derived from the music that flowed so effortlessly from her brain to her fingers. Today wasn’t about pleasure, it was about survival. She couldn’t continue the way she had. The act of blocking her thoughts and the melodies that moved through her mind was getting to be too much for her. She wasn’t sleeping well, lost her appetite, and no amount of aspirin seemed to combat the ache in her skull.

Curling her right hand around the strap of her black leather tote, she turned right. She kept her eyes averted as she moved with purpose to the spot were her purchase used to be stocked. As each step took her deeper into the store, and farther into her past, she prayed they hadn’t reorganized over the years. The last thing she wanted was to run into anyone. She couldn’t spend anymore time in the store than was absolutely necessary.

At the end of the aisle, she turned left.

“Can I help you find something?”

Today was not a good day.

Grimacing, she shifted her gaze from the floor to the middle-aged man blocking the aisle. Frank. She recognized him immediately. He’d been working here as long as she could remember.