Tattooed Hearts (12 page)

For ten years she’d
tried to deny the desire, the emptiness, and the hole in her heart. But
standing in the doorway, she became lost in Forrest, in the feeling of wanting
to connect with him. Comfort hi
m. Electricity sparked
every cell in her body.
She
stood frozen and wanting nothing more than to kiss him.

He stepped back. She
walked past him into the entryway. His familiar scent teased her senses. Fresh
and woodsy tones mixed with citrus, pine, cashmer
e
wood, and leather that screamed athletic.
Sexy.
Her body drummed with emotions buried
for way too long.

Lust.

Longing.

Need.

A need to ease his
grief, give him all that she could and never be the cause of his pain again.

His graphite eyes
swept over her
with unabashed lust. “Claire, don’t
test me. I’m not that strong right now.” His voice was raw and sensual, a
perfect combination of passion and pent-up anger.

She pushed aside any
doubts and closed the space between them. Under normal circumstances, he pr
obably would have walked away from her. She was temporary
after all. Tonight none of that mattered. She touched his face, the stubble on
his jaw scraping her palm.

“Forrest,” she started
but he caught her wrist and pulled her to him. Silence floated around
them, everything frozen in mid-air. She met the smoky
steel of his gray eyes. For a beat, they stayed like that, looking at each
other with mutual intensity, until he cupped her chin in his hands
.

 
With a tortured sound, his lips crashed
onto hers, burnin
g her with his mouth. The kiss was
demanding, urgent, with no hint of that deep heady emotional connection he once
freely gave her. She was in his arms for one purpose only, to be used as a
shock absorber, a cushion. That much was clear. But because her he
art was tattooed with his name, Claire wrapped her arms
around his neck and pressed full length against him, giving all of
herself
to the man who forever owned her.

“I’m not going to be
gentle,” he said thickly against her lips, leaving no room to mistake
where his mind was going.

“I don’t care.” She
found his mouth once again, desperate to give him the one thing she
could….herself.

They devoured each
other with lips and hands.
Their tongues dueled. Passion flared. She moaned against
his mouth, wanting mor
e.
Claire wasn’t sure for how long they kissed or touched,
until Forrest pulled away. She held on to his jacket, not wanting him to stop.
Not ever. Slowly she opened her eyes, ready to beg if need be. “Don’t stop.”

He lowered himself to
his knees
,
her gaze
followed.
Her heart stuttered at the sight of Forrest kneeling in front of her.

“Taking
off your shoes.”

He didn’t have to. She
kicked them off and stepped onto the plank wood floor.

“And tights.”

Claire’s hands
immediately went to her dress
.
A
ll
she
had
to do was scoot up the hem and wriggle out of the
thick black tights.

Forrest caught her
hands. “Let me.”

Steady hands caught
the skirt of her dress and bunched it to her thighs. Forrest smoothly striped
off her stockings and black lacy underwear. All the
while
his fathomless eyes held hers captive. She sucked in a breath. No turning back
now. When he came back to his feet, he gently spun her around so that she was
facing the foyer desk. Taking her hands in his, he pinned them out on the
table, forcing her
to bend over.

“Don’t move,” he said
in a thrillingly rough voice and gently squeezed her hand. Not that she had any
intention of moving. She was here for him—to do as he pleased. She closed her
eyes and let herself go.

“Watch.”
His voice was quiet and gruf
f against her ear, leaving her no choice but to surrender
to his demand.

Claire opened her eyes
and saw herself in the oversized natural wood mirror on the wall above the
table. The sight of her bent over the table, dress pushed up to her thighs,
hair spil
ling from its rhinestone ponytail holder,
lips parted, sent a thrill through her middle. She looked rumpled, conquered.

She met his gaze in
the mirror. He stripped off his jacket, undid his belt, and unzipped. They were
both half-dressed and there was some
thing so sexy
about the way he stood behind her like a caged tiger—big, silently angry with
contained rage ready to pounce on an overconfident attacker.

They looked…hot.

They stood like that
for a long moment, staring at each other in the mirror. Slow
burn of desire crackled. Then he leaned forward and cupped
her breasts over the cotton material of her dress, gently squeezing. Hunger
flamed in his eyes. Hunger for her. The thought made her head spin and scorch
her body from the inside out. He glided one
hand
lower, between her legs. A tremor ran through her as he dipped one finger
between her thighs.

“Oh…” she whispered
then spread her legs for him.

From behind her,
Forrest let out a very low, sexy male sound, and then he was exploring her most
sensitive
spot for the first time in a decade. His
fingers trailed her own moisture over her, exploring every dip and crevice,
until she was ebbing and flowing. Claire gripped the desk edges for support,
eyes closed, and her head back against his chest, she gave in
to the wave of ecstasy sweeping over her.

“Watch, Claire,” he
reminded her again.

He slid another finger
deep inside her, filling her, and she let out an incomprehensible little cry.
“Please, now,” she begged.

“Look at me.” He
cupped her ass tightly in hi
s hands and spread her
open, exposing her most guarded place. One long finger glided across her
swollen clit, making her buck forward. Her eyes flew open and locked with his.

“Tonight we fuck.” His
voice carried a cool, even authority of command.

This was
the first time she was seeing this side of him. Ten years
ago, they’d been inexperienced and blindly in love. Tonight Forrest was in
complete control. Excitement coursed through her veins. Her heart beat faster,
blood rushed to her face, and ah, down there
.
Pulsating with need, she longed to pull him toward
her,
to put some part of him between her—in
her—and fill that unfilled space. With his thighs, he nudged her legs apart
a little more then plunged inches
of perfection into her, causing a split
second of
pain. She gasped and let out a little
whimper.

He stopped. Hot, hard
flesh buried deep inside her core.

“Good?” he murmured.

Oh God, yes.
So good.
She nodded and writhed against him,
silently letting him know she was up for whatever he was willing to give
. Then he was thrusting inside her, deep and borderline
rough, burying his suffering in her with every tumultuous stroke. His gaze,
dark and hooded, never wavered from hers as he
hammered away his pain
, crushing down walls of her body until
she was able to
accommodate every inch of his hard
perfection.

Her shoulders dropped
back. Her lips parted. She took each thrust, arching her back for more, letting
him use her. And so he did. He continued to pummel, sinking deeper and deeper.
With each stroke, Claire go
t another jolt, another
zap.

Their bodies became
reacquainted with the perfection of their chemistry. Together they fell into a
rhythm and began to move simultaneously. “Forrest,” she cried out his name, her
muscles constricting.

“Right there with
you.”

Th
eir bodies collided, powered only by the need to get off,
to have it rough and hard and fast while reaching for the pinnacle. One hand
moved to her hair and dug into her scalp as they fell in the abyss of their
desire until she shuddered and her legs buckl
ed.

Strong arms were quick
around her waist. He pressed her back against the wall of his chest, holding
her steady. “I got you.”

She wanted to tell him
how much of her he got, possessed. But his breath was hot in her ear, making
her shake and clouding her
mind.

“Okay?” His voice
carried a tenderness she hadn’t felt from him in a long time.

“Yes.”

He slipped out of her,
breaking their connection. “Come on, you’re staying the night.”

Chapter Ten

“There are many things in life that will
catch your eye,
but only a few will catch your
heart...pursue those.”

Michael Nolan

Claire slowly rose
from the depths of oblivion and became aware of three things. One, her neck and
the muscles between her legs ached. Two, the reason for the soreness, she’d
slept with
Forrest–okay, they had wild animal sex,
over and over again. And three, she was alone on his sofa, where they
eventually collapsed and fell asleep.

Images from last night
trundled through her brain. Forrest bending her over in the entryway and once
more in
the living room, until his legs had been the
ones to give way to the madness. The fiery chemistry had not waned with the
years
.
L
ast
night had
been…intense. She went to him and he took—a lot of deep penetration, in and
out, super-fast and hard.
A total
ac
t of lust without a drop of any emotional
connection.
Pure, uncontrolled
sex
.
Nothing more.
Sure, he held her in his arms and
kissed her goodnight but through it all, something had been missing.

Love.

That wonderful,
powerful bond where the heart and soul
connected and
the emotions were so heightened that they could fly. They had that once before
and she wasn’t surprised to realize she missed the feeling. Truth was she’d
been in denial all along, running away from what her heart craved.

The sex had been inv
igorating. But now in his living room alone, emptiness
swallowed her. They hadn’t made it to his bedroom, the reason was obvious. He
hadn’t wanted that intimacy from her. Not that she blamed him. He’d been hurt
and grieving. But deep down, she wished she h
ad woken
up in his arms. Groaning, she lifted the mocha knit thrown casually over her
and assessed her current state.
Still
in her dress.
Another
barrier.
No need to get completely naked. She offered. He took. End of story. Shame
flooded her veins from hea
d to toe. With a sigh, she
pulled herself to a sitting position and looked out of the window. Outside was
picturesque, a bright, sunny day with white covering the yard.

The snow had stopped,
which meant she could totally escape and deal with facing Forrest
later. Tossing the throw aside, she rose from the sofa.
All she had to do was find her shoes and quietly slip out. Her gaze toured the
living room floor. No shoes.
The
foyer.
She’d kicked them off there by the door. Perfect.

“Looking for these?”

He caught
her right smack in the middle of her exit strategy. Biting
her lip, she gave herself one of those silent pep talks similar to the ones
she’d done before facing thousands of screaming faces,
then
turned to face her tormentor. Her
breath caught.

He stood by
the doorway with her shoes
dangling in one hand and her purse in
another,
looking so handsome she had to suck in a breath.
Freshly showered with his hair slicked
back from the water so his features were more prominent—icy
gr
a
y
eyes tinted to classic light
blue, stubble accentuating soft, kissable lips, chiseled
jaw, and a hint of a frown on his face.
He was the epitome of masculine
strength and beauty. The faded jeans hanging low on his hips and the olive
cashmere Henley hoodie didn’t help either. Her firs
t
instinct was to touch him or maybe drag him back to the sofa…this time they’d
be naked. Instead, Claire crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

“Why are you always
looking to run, Claire?” he asked as he closed the space between them and
handing her the sh
oes.

Because that’s what I do.
I run because your hold on me is too firm.
Illicit images of Forrest standing
behind her in the entryway scrambled themselves to the surface. Panic set in.
The shoes slipped through her fingers as he passed them over and clun
ked to the floor. She bent down to pick them up just as he
did and their heads bumped.

She released a sudden
sigh and tried to speak. But no words came. Gulp. Then with a little more
strength she said, “Sorry.” But it came out hoarse, barely audible.

After
placing her purse on the coffee table by his phone, he
walked over to the fireplace and propped her shoes next to the stack of
firewood. His eyes met hers. “We should talk.”

Claire always prided
herself for being strong and able to deal with pretty much
anything…well, except for the man standing here with her.
He was a mighty force. He haunted her. But other than that one little weakness,
she was an impregnable fort. She did after all manage to achieve her goal as a
singer. Oh, and let’s not forget a pret
ty well-known
wedding gown designer. She was tenacious, determined, focused. But the one
thing she couldn’t take, especially from Forrest, was regret. And right now,
she could smell it a mile away. “I came to you last night. I knew what I was
getting into.
”

He continued to look
through her. “I wasn’t going to apologize for having sex with you.”

Oh, okay. What then?
She waited.

Forrest’s phone
chirped,
the modern day cricket. She lowered her
gaze to the glowing screen. “It’s Jason.”

“Let it go to voice
mail.
”

The coolness in his
voice drew her attention back to his face. He rolled the sleeves of the Henley
to his elbows, muscles flexing during the act. For the first time in her
twenty-eight years, she caught a hint of familiarity between Forrest, Charles,
and
Jason. Proud and stubborn just like his father
and brother. Even the blue flecks in his eyes were like theirs.

He ran a hand over his
face. “We didn’t use any protection.”

Claire rubbed the
inside of her left wrist. She had been caught up in the rapturou
s moment and forgot caution.

His eyes were fixed on
hers, brows bunched into a line across his forehead. “I wasn’t thinking
straight.”

She was smart enough
to read between the lines. What he didn’t say was the last thing he needed was
an unwanted pregnancy
.

“Don’t worry, I’m on
the pill. And I’m not on antibiotics,” she added since that’s how Lily and
Adam’s mishap happened.
“So we’re good.”

“Good to know.” He
continued to watch her with those mesmerizing eyes of his. “I think you should
know the last time
I had unprotected sex was with you
ten years ago.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And it’s been awhile, so we’re
good on my part.”

Awhile as in ten years
. She wanted to ask but didn’t dare. It
was silly of her to hope he actually had been abstinent until
last night. She knew he dated and probably had his share
of fun while in medical school. On the island, while he was discreet and
private, four months ago she witnessed one of his dates at West Chop.

Reality dawned. His
concern ran beyond pregnancy. Of co
urse the
Vineyard’s favorite doctor would be thinking about STDs and all. Well, he had
nothing to worry about there. Considering the last time she had sex with an
actual person, her deluxe silicone boyfriend not included, was two years ago.
Any past lovers
had been failed attempts to replace
Forrest, including the only two other men who could be labeled as boyfriends.
In the end, no one measured up, so she stopped trying.
“Same here.”

He continued to hold
her gaze as if he was processing her admission. “You
r
car won’t make it out.”

Forever polite, but
the message was loud and clear.
Time
to leave
.
H
er
presence was no longer
needed. “I’m sure I can manage. I got here last night.”

“Your
panties is
in your purse.”

She nodded. Both of
their gazes went to the pu
rse then back to each
other. N
either
made an attempt to
move. Another vision of sexed-up Forrest standing behind her popped in her
mind’s eye, she pursed her lips. His jaw ticked. Something flickered in his
eyes.
Heat.
His mind had gone there too.

“I’ll d
rive you to Martha’s Way.” He started to walk past her,
stopped, and gave her
a
once-over. “Thank you for staying till
the funeral. As it turned out I needed you after all.”

* * * *

About two hours later
from a drive that typically took twenty minutes,
Forrest
pulled his Jeep in front of Martha’s Way, tucked away amidst seven acres of
lawn, garden and woods. The drive had been eerily silent. With his eyes hidden
behind the black-rimmed aviator glasses, his expression etched in stone, Claire
had nearly ru
n out of the Jeep into the sanctuary of
the inn. Not that he made any attempt to stop her. The word goodbye had barely
slipped out of her mouth, when he drove off. Tires peeling through the snow,
powder flying as he hit the banks.

Once inside, she gave
her
body a little shake and tried to snap herself out
of her fog. What better place to relax than Martha’s Way?

No matter how many
times she stayed there, the simplicity and elegance always held her attention.
Artfully blending the hushed privacy of a boutiqu
e
hotel with the intimacy of a romantic bed and breakfast, Jason had managed to
create a haven of tranquility with an emphasis on guest comfort.

For three consecutive
years, it was voted by the
Massachusetts Gazette
as the number one place to stay when on
the island. Since going back to work with his father, he’d
relinquished the everyday managerial duties to Nora, but he still stayed close
enough. This place was his baby. A smile touched Claire’s lips as she made her
way down to hall to one of the sitting
rooms. The
familiar feel of the inn slowly began to sink into her bones.
 

She entered the
smaller of the sitting rooms and was not surprised to find Minka, Lily, and
Keely sitting at the nearby table eating what appeared to be a late breakfast.
She had s
potted their respective cars in the parking
area when Forrest dropped her off.

Claire groaned. She
didn’t want to think about Forrest, especially how hurt or sexy he was. He’d
literally kicked her out of his house. Not with words, he was too polite for
tha
t. The emotional distance spoke volumes.

The three women
focused on her. Keely, fork in hand, signaled for her to join them.

“It’s all right, I’ll
just sit here.” She waved at the walnut-colored armchair by the
fireplace.
She was in a crappy mood and wante
d to sulk alone.

Minka shook her head.
“We’ll invade your space either way, so might as well join us.”

The
power of friendship.
By the sound of her voice they were able to detect her
mood. Knowing she had lost this battle, Claire made her way to the round
table and flopped into the empty chair between Lily and
Keely.