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She smiled. “You are, too.”
He laughed softly. “Men aren’t beautiful, sweetheart. Handsome. Magnificent. Muscular and altogether fantastic, yes, but not—”
Jessie grabbed his hair and dragged his mouth to hers. “I’ll give you all the compliments you want, later. But first…” She sat up, tugged the sweatshirt over her head and tossed it aside. “Look at me, Liam,” she said, “and tell me you like what you see.”
Like? There were no words to describe what he felt, looking at her. Her body was as beautiful as her face, her skin all flushed, her breasts high and rounded, the tips already beaded with excitement.
“I love what I see,” he said softly.
“Touch me, then.” She reached up, stroked her finger gently over his mouth. “Kiss me. Make love to me.”
He was on fire for her. Liam stripped off his jeans and shorts, and went into Jessie’s arms. He’d dreamed of this, but the reality was better than any dream. The sweetness of her breasts, of her belly, the startled little sound she made when he opened her to him, found the secret flower that was the essence of her femininity and kissed it.
Her cry of shocked pleasure combined with her taste and rocketed through his blood. When she began to tremble, to convulse under the sweet torment of his mouth, he moved quickly up her body and, on one long, possessive stroke, sheathed himself in her satin heat.
“Jessie,” he whispered, and when her lashes fluttered open, he bent to her, cupped her face and kissed her deeply. “Look at me, sweetheart, and say my name.”
“Liam. My Liam.” A long, keening cry burst from her throat.
“Jessie,” he said, and then he let go of everything, the years of loneliness and of doubt, and exploded deep within the welcoming warmth of the woman he loved.
CHAPTER SIX
JESSIE SAT on the sun-drenched patio, wearing a white, fluffy robe provided by the hotel and drinking coffee while she waited for Liam to return from what he’d smugly referred to as a “secret mission.”
She smiled over the rim of her cup. It didn’t take much effort to figure out what that “secret mission” was. She’d made a face when she’d started to dress, teased him about only men not shuddering at the thought of putting on yesterday’s clothes, and he’d gotten a glint in his eyes. Suddenly he’d wanted to know her favorite colors, whether she liked short summer skirts or long ones, if she preferred bikinis or what he’d referred to as “you know, those clingy, one-piece jobs.”
She put down her cup, stretched her arms high overhead, then lay back on the chaise longue.
He’d gone to buy her something to wear, she was sure of it. Still, she’d act surprised when he turned up with a swimsuit and a T-shirt and shorts and, yes, she’d stop being silly about it and accept them as gifts because it was pointless to stand on ceremony with the man who was your lover.
Her lover. She rolled over on her stomach and closed her eyes. It was such a lovely word. The only bit of darkness came when she let herself think about the emptiness she’d face when their days here ended.
And the pain she’d caused William.
“No,” she said aloud.
She wasn’t going to think about that, not yet. It was too soon to think about what lay ahead. She was happy, happier than she’d ever imagined possible, and she wasn’t going to spoil her joy for anything.
She sat up, stretched again and took her coffee cup into the villa and rinsed it in the sink. The serving cart, bearing the remnants of the gargantuan breakfast Liam had ordered earlier, sat waiting in the corner. She thought of the waiter’s smile when he’d delivered it, all that food for only two people, and how she’d felt herself blushing, knowing what he must have been thinking, that only a man and woman who’d spent hours making love could possibly be hungry enough to tackle waffles and eggs and a hundred other things.
And she thought of how Liam had taken her in his arms after the door closed, how they’d laughed while she fed him strips of bacon and he’d licked her fingers clean until laughter turned to sighs and sighs to passion.
She thought about how much she loved him.
There wasn’t any point in trying to pretend she didn’t, not to herself. It was impossible to fall in love with a man you hardly knew, especially when that man wasn’t the kind she’d ever imagined wanting, but there it was. She loved Liam the way she’d wanted to love William, and what good would it do her?
“None,” she said softly as she sank down on the edge of the bed.
Liam loved making love with her. He loved holding her, and he even seemed to love being with her. But he didn’t love her. He’d never love just one woman. That was just the way they were, the Liam Malones of this world. Her mother had told her once, probably in a moment of desperation, that she’d made a terrible mistake thinking she didn’t have to hear her man say those simple words, and thinking she could be happy with one who preferred wandering the world to making a real home.
Not that she’d have to be concerned about any of that with Liam. Even if a miracle occurred, which it wouldn’t, but even if it did, and Liam looked at her and said those magical words, “Jessie, I love you…”
Even if that happened, he could never be hers because the shadow of William, and what they’d done, would always be there, chilling their happiness.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and wasn’t that ridiculous? Here she sat, weeping because there wouldn’t be a forever-after when that was exactly what she’d walked away from, choosing, instead, a few short, sweet days in Liam’s arms.
Jessie sat up straight, scrubbed her knuckles over her eyes. Liam would be back soon and she didn’t want him to see that she’d been crying, didn’t want to waste whatever little time they had left on tears or recriminations or—
