“Why?”
“Because you tried to persuade my sister not to have Rhett.”
His long fingers curved over her shoulder. “As my father’s right-hand man, it was my job to carry out his wishes. He asked me to make sure Marlene understood he was too old to raise another child—especially with a woman he didn’t love.”
Carly winced. “Marlene loved him.”
Or at least she’d told Carly she did. And she’d been very convincing.
But what about Marlene’s notebook? What about her plan to force Everett to marry her?
“Then I’m sorry for her. His not wanting to share his life or parenthood with her must have hurt.” His thumb circled with mesmerizing, breath-snatching effect beneath her clavicle. “Is Rhett down for the count?”
“Yes. I’m glad you were driving so I could keep him awake on the ride home. If he takes a five-minute nap in the car then he won’t go back to sleep when we get to his crib, and he’d be seriously cranky by dinnertime.” She was babbling, but that was because if she quit talking she’d start moaning.
She couldn’t do this again. Another one of his kisses and she’d be a goner.
Get up. Get out of here. At least until you’re certain Marlene fibbed about him being a jerk.
Mitch’s other hand settled on her opposite shoulder. His long fingers dug into the tense muscles in the back of her neck and massaged with mind-and willpower-melting results. By the time his thumbs traced the sensitive underside of her jaw, her reasons for resisting the intense attraction between them were getting pretty darn fuzzy. Her head and eyelids grew heavy.
“Give us a chance, Carly.”
Before she could dredge up an answer from the sludge he’d made of her brain, he leaned forward and kissed her.
Seven
C arly made a decision she was almost certain she’d regret.
She kissed Mitch back.But she couldn’t help herself. Today, this entire week actually, she’d seen a different side of him. One she liked. A lot. One that, when combined with the shocking contents of Marlene’s journal, made her wonder if her twin hadn’t altered the facts to suit her purposes. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
Mitch didn’t touch her anywhere except for his lips and the thigh pressed against hers. It wasn’t enough. She lifted a hand and cradled his face, loving the prickly warmth in her palm. She stroked his jaw. The slight roughness of his beard abraded her fingertips in a delicious way.
His growl of approval filled her mouth, and the echoes resounded deep inside her. His lips parted and his tongue sought and tangled with hers. The pressure of his mouth increased, tilting her head back for a deeper kiss. She adored his taste, his slick, wet heat, his scent.
But still, he didn’t take her into his arms.
Carly moved her other hand to his knee below the hem of his shorts. The crisp curls tickled her palm. She kneaded the hot skin of his thigh and hunger seeped over her like a rising tide, pulling her deeper under his spell.
Mitch’s hands flattened over both of hers, halting her movements. He lifted his head. Desire burned in his eyes and darkened his face. His fingers threaded through hers and returned her hands to her lap.
“We need to take this upstairs. But before we do, you need to be damned sure you know where this is headed.”
She bit her lip and tasted him. “Where is it headed?”
“I want you, Carly. I think we have a shot at something good together. But I can’t make guarantees of forever.”
Her heart raced and her palms moistened. Did she want something long-term with him? Maybe. She’d certainly never experienced passion this strong before.
Getting involved again—and so soon—was a gamble. She’d taken several of those in her life and lost everything. But Mitch understood how much walking away from a child hurt. He’d been there. And he’d made the unselfish choice for the children. That fact alone made him more appealing than either of the men she’d thought she’d loved. Surely Mitch could understand and pardon her decision to give her daughter up for adoption?
And then there was Rhett. As Mitch had pointed out, they both had the child’s best interest at heart.
She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I’m willing to risk it.”
Mitch’s nostrils flared. He rose, pulling Carly to her feet. With their fingers still intertwined, he yanked her forward and their bodies slammed together, soft against hard in shocking, exhilarating contact. He pressed a quick, firm kiss on her lips, then released one hand and led her out of the room and into the foyer. He ascended the stairs without haste.
She wanted him to race. To do this before second thoughts overtook her. She hadn’t known him long, and it wasn’t like her to tumble into bed so quickly, so impetuously.
As if he sensed her encroaching doubts, he stopped on the first landing, backed her against the banister and lowered his head. Hot and hungry and slightly rough, his mouth devoured hers, stealing her breath, her defenses and her doubts.
Her back arched over the rail. The potential danger of falling to the hard marble floor below only intensified the adrenaline rush. She clung to his lean waist.
Just as quickly as he had begun the kiss, he ended it and resumed climbing, but faster this time. His long stride rushed her down the hall—not that she minded—past hers and Rhett’s rooms and into Mitch’s suite. He shut the doors and backed her against them. She had a brief impression of the bedroom behind him as huge, painted in the palest sage and flooded with sunlight from windows on both the front and back sides of the house.
“Last chance to change your mind.” But already his hands reached for the hem of her shirt. The yellow cotton swished over her head in a blur and landed on the floor.
She answered by mimicking his movements and tugging his shirttail up and over his head to reveal those barbell-wide shoulders, the dark hair spattering in a Y across his torso and his amazing, muscle-ripped physique. For a moment she stood motionless, surveying the territory she had revealed. He did the same. His jaw muscles clenched and his pectorals rose on a deep inhalation.
His hands moved to the button and zip of her skirt. The rasp of his knuckles from her navel to her mound weakened her knees and sent a swirl of want to her abdomen. The skirt fell to her ankles, leaving her in a white bra, matching bikini panties and her sandals. For an instant she wished she’d worn something sexier than plain cotton, but the rapid expansion of his pupils smote the thought.
She kicked off her shoes and reached for the waistband of his shorts. The fastening gave way and the khaki fabric dropped down the length of his legs. She had a scant second to appreciate the long, thick bulge tenting his black boxers. The minute his pants hit the floor he kicked them and his shoes aside and swept her into his arms. The radiator warmth of his body pressed her side. She tangled her arms around his neck and scanned the room as his long stride ate up the floor between the entry and his bed.
A sea of glossy hardwood floors surrounded an island-size bed draped in a dark green spread. Matching tall stainless floor lamps arched like palm fronds over each side of the mattress, and pillows piled high against the tall scrolled wooden headboard. She didn’t need to see the hardback thriller on the nightstand to know Mitch spent time reading in bed. Something else they had in common.
He set her on her feet and flipped back the covers, revealing sheets in the same sage as the walls. And then his thumbs hooked in his boxers and he bent to shove the silk to his ankles. He straightened, and her lungs and her womb contracted.
Oh, mama! Her fingers curled in anticipation of touching him, stroking him, taking him deep inside. She reached for her prize, but he brushed her hands aside to flick open the front catch of her bra. He caught her br**sts as they spilled out, enclosing her sensitive flesh in the warmth of his hands. He thumbed the tips and a moan bubbled in her throat.
Briskly, with sudden impatience, he released her, rushed her bra over her arms and her panties down her legs and then backed her onto the bed. Her bottom bounced on the firm mattress and cool sheets met her back. He turned away briefly, yanked open the bedside drawer, retrieved and swiftly donned a condom and then returned to her. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and his thighs separated hers. He planted his palms on the pillow beside her head.
She pressed her hands to his chest, halting his descent. She wanted to savor this, to make it last. “Wait. Slow down.”
Even his eyebrows went rigid. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled. The veins in his throat and one in his temple pulsed wildly. When he lifted his lids she could see he’d reined himself in. As if in slow motion, his elbows bent and he lowered himself, stopping short of full body contact. His lips touched down, hovered and touched hers again, like a hummingbird on a feeder.
His kisses traced her cheekbone, her jaw, the cords of her neck, sipping and laving. His teeth scraped ever so lightly on her skin, and she shivered with need. The mattress quaked beneath her, telecasting the depth with which Mitch fought for control. She slid her hands from the supple skin of his chest to the bunched muscles of his shoulders and then into his soft hair. Cradling his head, she brought his mouth back to hers. His ravenous kiss slayed her. She thought her lungs would burst. The rest of her wasn’t far behind.
He lifted his head, stretched out beside her and propped himself up on his elbow. The scalding length of him, of his torso, his erection, his legs, blanketed her from shoulder to ankle. His gaze greedily gorged on her nak*dness. His hand stroked and caressed, plucked and glided over her br**sts, her waist and her belly, sweeping her into a tornado of sensation. And then his lips followed the same path.
His mouth found her center, and an approaching orgasm coalesced deep inside her. Hunger and passion consumed her, making her forget all about going slow. Her h*ps arched off the bed. She wound her arms around him, urging him on. “Now.”
He lifted his head and leaned back, leaving her hanging on the verge of release. She whimpered in disappointment. He grasped her knee and hiked it over his hip, rolling her to her side, leaving her most intimate parts opened and exposed. His gaze held hers as he kneaded the curve of her bottom and then slipped his hand between them to her slick center.
She loved the dark, passionate look in his eyes, as if he were as close to losing control as her. His fingers slid deep and then withdrew. That single thrust pushed her back to the edge, but left her aching and empty and yearning for more. He cut short her frustrated groan by painting a mind-twisting circular pattern over her flesh. Her lids fluttered closed as intense pleasure arrowed through her. She forced them back open to watch the intense concentration on his face.
Her thoughts, her senses centered on those dexterous digits and on the intense green eyes holding hers captive. Pressure built until it bordered on pain. Once again, he let it subside. Wanting, needing more, she lifted her h*ps in invitation, pressing against the heel of his hand. “Mitch, please.”
His breath hissed. “Not yet.”
She was so close her back arched in anticipation and tremors racked her body. She dug her nails into his shoulders and clung, teetering on the brink. She nipped his jaw, his neck, his collarbone because she couldn’t reach his mouth. Mitch removed his hand, and she sobbed in frustration. Before she could voice her complaint, he pushed her onto her back and rose above her.