Sold to the Highest Bidder (8 page)

“Maybe I was,” he agreed, but it didn’t quite ring of the truth.

“And then too much time had passed…” she prompted.

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking there. “Yes. Time. And now you’re going back tomorrow.”

“I have to,” she acknowledged, and was surprised at the wistful note in her voice. Was it regret? No, she couldn’t possibly want to stay longer, to prolong the ending. It was already proving to be harder than she expected to say goodbye.

She had her home and life back in Denver to look forward to. She had theater tickets for Thursday. She was covering the Victorian Ball next month. She had her apartment downtown and lunches with her friends to look forward to. She had to remember all those things, remember what she’d built for herself. The life she truly wanted. In time Dev would see it too.

“Then I guess tonight is it, isn’t it.”

Was that invitation she heard in his voice?

“It for what?” The question came out on a breath and seemed to hover between them.

Dev scraped back his chair and got up, the sound deafening in the tight quiet around them. He walked over to her chair, took her hand and gently tugged her to standing.

His hands cradled her face, his thumbs rubbed against her cheekbones, wiping away the remnants of moisture from her tears. She was helpless to push him away, prisoner to the tenderness in his touch, so at odds with the anger she’d witnessed only moments before. The gentle gesture made her want to cry all over again, made her want to weep for the memories of how completely they’d loved each other once upon a time.

“The last night I get to do this,” he murmured, just before he dipped his head and consumed her with a kiss.

His lips were warm and supple and tasted of the merlot. Ella’s eyes drifted closed as she let herself feel his kiss. His hands rested on the tops of her arms, holding her firmly while his tongue plundered her mouth. Sweet, and sad, and oh so final.

She felt a moan rise in her throat and let it escape. The sound echoed through the silent kitchen, adding fuel to the fire.

His lips broke away from hers and he reached behind her head, undoing the clip that anchored her hair, sending it tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. His blue eyes burned into hers, sending jolts of memory straight to her core.
Remember?
they said.
Yes, I remember
, hers answered back. She did remember. How this was only the beginning. How he could consume all of her with the slightest touch. And she wanted him to do it again. One last time.

She worried her lip with her teeth and his grin was lightning fast, sexy, teasing. “You’re thinking, Ell.”

Her breath came in shallow pants as his laughing mouth touched the side of her neck, suckled on her earlobe. “Don’t think. For the love of God, don’t think.”

“Occupational hazard,” she responded, her lashes fluttering. His tongue swirled around her earlobe and that one simple action nearly had her writhing in his hands. My God. The man could patent his tongue as a sex toy. Every nerve ending in her body was standing on edge, and they were both still fully clothed.

“What do you want?” His breath was hot in her ear and she shivered.

What did she want? Him, most certainly. And with his mouth doing naughty things to her neck and his hands sliding over her bottom, she couldn’t think any deeper than that. She wanted him. Inside her. Right now. So badly she could almost feel it by memory alone.

“One for old times’ sake?” she breathed, dropped her head back while his strong hand supported her neck.

“Oh, I like the sound of that, Ella McQuade,” he agreed, his voice devilishly rich.

His tongue teased the hollow of her throat and she couldn’t even bring herself to correct him.

He nibbled on her collarbone and her knees wobbled.

“Dev?” It came out as a breathless gasp and she didn’t care. “I’m not going to be able to stand much more of this.”

Slowly, painfully slowly, he slid his tongue up the column of her neck and along the underside of her lip while she went into complete and utter meltdown.

His mouth left her skin, the trails where it had been suddenly cool in the air. Her tongue darted out and wet her lips. Devin reached down to the table and retrieved her wine glass, handing it to her before reaching for his own.

She drank, the dark seduction of the red wine flavoring her tongue. He drank from his glass as well, his gaze steady on hers while the world seemed to hum around them.

“Are you trying to get me drunk again, McQuade?”

A slow smile crept up his cheek. “Not a chance, McQuade. I want you fully aware of what we’re doing.”

Her grin faltered as her stomach did somersaults of anticipation, knowing exactly what was in store. It had been so long since he’d last touched her, but with him only inches from her body it seemed like yesterday. She knew in her head that they had been different people then, but it ceased to matter now. Their hearts were the same. Their chemistry was the same—incendiary. And if she were going to walk away tomorrow, then tonight she was going to give herself one hell of a memory to take with her.

With trembling fingers, she put her glass back on the table and reached for the buttons of his shirt.

One by one she slipped them from their holes until his shirt gaped open, revealing again the chest she’d touched last night, the one she’d wanted to taste this afternoon. She didn’t hesitate this time. Her hands slid the shirt out of the way and she touched her lips to the warm, firm skin beneath it, feeling it rise and fall heavily as his breathing grew ragged. She kissed her way down his sternum and then over, running her tongue over a hardened nipple.

“Ell,” he murmured roughly.

She ran her fingers down a cotton-clad arm until she got to the wrist and released the button there before moving to the opposite wrist and doing the same. She slid her hands up over his chest and over his shoulders, pushing the shirt off and down his arms. He stood painfully still, frozen in the moment, waiting while she took her time reacquainting herself with his hard, muscled body. She traced her fingertips down the long length of one arm, across the waistband of his jeans, smiling a little as he instinctively sucked in his belly at her touch. Her fingers trailed over to the other arm. Down the middle of his chest, until she finally looked up and saw his eyes were closed, his jaw quivering, and he swallowed thickly.

The little dent in her heart, the one put there when she’d left him, got a little bit bigger. He was holding himself back, letting her take her time. Tears pricked the backs of her lids. He had always been an unselfish lover. She willed the stinging away. It would be so easy to love him again. But loving him and living with him were different. She was smart enough to know that. Too much time had passed for them to pretend they could go back. So she’d love him for this one night. One last time. Tonight she wouldn’t be the coward he accused her of being. Tonight she’d give of herself. And when they said goodbye—as they must—it would be without their last memory being one of bitterness.

“Dev.”

His eyes opened, startlingly blue in the paling light of the kitchen. Her fingers toyed with the button on his jeans. “Take me to bed, Dev.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. In a movement that stole her breath, he slid an arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms.

Her heart trembled. For a flash of a moment, she was transported back twelve years, to Dev carrying her over the threshold and not stopping until they reached the bedroom. She’d felt the same thrum of excitement, the same throbbing pulse knowing what was ahead. Only now it was different.

She wasn’t as innocent. Time had taken that away from her. She knew how life worked. And as Dev took purposeful strides to the bedroom at the end of the hall, she knew this had to be the final goodbye they’d never had. They couldn’t turn back the clock. But they could maybe, just maybe, close the book without bitterness. If she could wish for one thing, that would be it. Maybe that was why she’d never come back to end it in person. She’d been so afraid of facing his disappointment, his censure. Having to accept the fact that she’d let down the one person who had loved her best.

Dev laid her gently on top of the covers of the bed. The light coming through the windows was fading, casting half of his face in shadow, accentuating the curves and planes of his muscles. Ella found herself thankful for once for the requirements of manual labor as he braced his strong body over her, his face only inches from hers, his breath warming her cheek, the zipper of his jeans pressed firmly against her core. She let out a breath, shaky with nerves and excitement. Inch by agonizing inch, Dev lowered his body, the muscles in his arms bunching beneath her fingers. His tongue swept into her mouth at the same time as his erection pressed against her. Her hips instinctively rose to meet it, seeking to release the pressure building within her body. Right now it was all centering at the exact point where he was pressed against her.

“Turn on the light,” she whispered, her blood singing in her veins with each passing second. If she could only have tonight, she wanted to imprint all of it on her memory, a montage she could play over and over in her mind. Especially how he looked when they made love.

“I want to see you, Dev.” She met his gaze in the dimness. “I want to see your face when you’re inside me.”

He reached over and flicked on a small bedside lamp, casting the room in warm, pinky glow. She made a cradle with her legs and he settled against her, while she fought the feeling that he was back home where he belonged. He wasn’t, but the familiarity was enough to shake her to the soul. Then he marked her with a rhythm there that took her breath, even through their layers of clothing.

“Too many clothes,” he murmured as the rubbing was no longer enough, breaking off his assault of her mouth and sitting back on his knees. His gaze raked across her and anticipation rippled over her skin. She arched her back as his fingers released her buttons, parting the sides of her blouse. He ran a single finger down her cleavage, straight to her navel, then moved back up to flick open the front clasp on her bra. It fell away from her breasts, leaving them exposed…to his eyes, to his hands—she closed her eyes as they cupped her, molding them in his fingers—and then… Oh glory. To his mouth. His tongue laved over the first crest, pulling it into his mouth while darts of
something
shot straight to her core, ripping a groan from her throat. Oh God. He smiled against her flesh and she could hardly breathe. She heard a soft chuckle, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her. She didn’t care. If anything, it made the air seem hotter. And when he moved to the other breast and ran his tongue over the nipple there, she cried out with the thrill of it.

His mouth found hers again, briefly stamping it with possession. “God Ell, you’re still so sweet,” he whispered hotly in her ear. “Are you this sweet…everywhere?”

He slid down her body, stopping for a moment to kiss her navel, and she felt his breath, hot against her jeans. He reached for the button and slid the zipper down with a minimum of fuss. He pulled the whole lot down her legs—jeans and the scrap of fabric that could just be termed underwear in the tiniest, most miniscule sense. Dropping them on the floor, he took a moment to simply look at her. Her muscles tensed almost painfully in response to the path of his gaze.

At the first touch of his mouth to her flesh, she twisted on the bed, driven crazy by the sensation of his smooth tongue against her. Memories slammed into her, one after another, mixing with tantalizing sensations from the here and now. The soft ruffles of his hair tickled the insides of her thighs as his gentle assault undid her inch by inch. Her fingers slid down her body to tangle with his hair as she pressed her feet into the mattress, lifting herself higher in response to the waves of pleasure rocking through her. Waves that turned to a pounding surf of intense need as with one long, delectable stroke of his tongue he sent her crashing over the edge. The spasms drew a long, keening cry from her lips, ending with his name as her legs went utterly limp.

Dev looked up at her face as she melted in his hands. Her blonde curls were spread in a tangle on the pillow, her lashes lay on her cheeks as, with eyes closed, she fought for breath. Her breasts rose and fell with each tortured rhythm, her blouse still gaping open—the only scrap of clothing on the bed. The lamplight glowed off the sheen of her skin, the peaks of her breasts erect, tempting. He closed his eyes, fighting the need to take her right here and now, roughly.

He’d wanted to hear his name on her lips, and he had. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted it to last.

He slid off the bed, slowly undid his zipper and stripped off his jeans and shorts. Ella’s eyes opened, heavy lidded, and she smiled like a cat that had got the cream. Never had she been more beautiful, except perhaps when she’d looked at him with the same sort of exhausted wonder on their wedding night.

She reached out and circled him with her hand, and he lost the ability to think. All he knew was that he wanted her. Needed her. And tonight he’d have her. The rest he’d deal with later.

Her fingers felt so damn good. Firmly yet slowly, she stroked. But there was only so much a man could take. He pressed her back into the pillows, parting her legs and sliding inside her with one sure stroke.

And froze as their gazes caught, and the gravity of what had just happened struck them both. His arms trembled not from his weight but from fear, emotion, need. He’d nearly given up that he’d be here again, buried inside her, feeling the warmth of her surrounding him. It was as close to heaven as he was ever going to get. It was more than a meeting of bodies. It always had been. And yet the primal, physical need raged through him.