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She bit down on her lip. “Do you think so?”
“I know so.” And he did. He’d bought several pieces by a top photojournalist a couple of years ago. Veronica, despite a dislike for anything cerebral, had demanded them in the divorce, so he no longer had them in his possession. But he would have sworn Katie’s had something extra. An emotion, or style, that was totally her.
“You should be doing this for a living. This should be your life.”
She smiled, over-brightly, to hide the lump of raw emotion that was clogging her throat. “And maybe I will.”
She pointed toward the bottom picture, a photo she’d snapped of the two of them one night, after Maxie had gone to bed and they’d set up to play a game of scrabble. It was disbanded once he began making words of a distinctly suggestive nature, and she’d decided wordplay was not as fun as foreplay. “You will be able to picture me, anyway.”
He frowned, and shuffled the pictures, pushing them aside a little carelessly. But her words were piercing the shield of resolve that he’d pulled into place. And he couldn’t afford to change tack now. Katie Collins had a dangerous way about her. She could get under his skin like no other woman ever had, and he simply had to conquer this feeling. If leaving her behind was the only way to do it…well, it was a shame, but he was not going to become some love-sick fool for the next week.
His eyes were cool once more, when they met hers, full of the reserve that Marcus Harris was renowned for. “It’s a lovely gift. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” She wouldn’t let him see that his casual gratitude hurt her. Tonight was not about anything except racking up memories.
“Have you suffered from claustrophobia for long?” She asked out of nowhere, raising her champagne and taking another sip to ease the parched sensation in her throat.
“No.” He shook his head. “Not long.”
“When did you first realize…”
“About a month ago.”
“Wow, that is sudden.” She tilted her head to one side, watching him from beneath her long lashes. “I think I read somewhere that it can be a result of trauma. A memory. Or an event. Do you know why…”
“No.” He stood up quickly, his chair scraping the tiled floor as he pushed it back. “Ready for your gourmet dinner?” His voice might have sounded mirthful but Katie wasn’t fooled.
She expelled an angry sigh. “You’re never going to see me again after tonight. Why not tell me the truth?”
He froze midway to the sandwiches. Could she know? Had she discovered his identity?
“The truth?” He asked noncommittally, busying himself with slicing the sandwiches into triangles and arranging them on a plate, so that he didn’t have to look at her questioning face.
“David, don’t forget who you’re talking to. We might have only known each other a little while, but we made short work of it. I’ve told you things I’ve never shared with another soul. Would it kill you to be frank with me?”
“But I’m not Frank,” he joked weakly, wiping his hands on a red gingham tea towel.
“You’re infuriating,” she said with a roll of her ice blue eyes, watching his naturally long stride as he crossed back towards her.
He put the sandwiches on the table and then came to stand over here, a leg on either side of her seat, his butt propped on the edge of the table. “Katie Collins, you are seeing mystery where there is none. Can’t you just take me at face value?” He knew he was the worst kind of bastard, but now that he’d already spread this fiction, he had to see it through.
He pressed his lips on hers, knowing she was as incapable as he was to think of anything when their bodies were touching. Her low moan deep in her throat was all the proof he needed that she’d forgotten her quest for knowledge. And yet, he couldn’t break the kiss. He deepened it, pulling her to her feet and pressing her into the void between his legs, holding her tight and wishing there was some way things could be different for them.
“I’m suddenly not hungry…” she said against his mouth and he felt his heart soar. He’d got himself into the biggest
bloody mess of his life, but he was going to ignore that for now.
He scooped her up and then laid her down on the cold, kitchen floor, laughing as she crumpled her beautiful face despite the sexual hunger flowing between them. “You’ll warm up,” he promised throatily, lifting her jumper over her head and quickly discarding her jeans. “I promise.”
They’d made love so many times over the last week, he’d lost count. He now knew her body almost as well as his own and he delighted in rediscovering all of the buttons he could push to make her reach fever pitch. Her big toe that he knew he could drive her wild by sucking. Her inner thigh, the most sensitive flesh on her body – when he kissed her there, she bucked in pleasure. As he worked his way up her body, he knew he wasn’t prepared to put a stop to his pilgrimage of pleasure.
“Wait, wait,” she whispered, pulling up to a kneeling position. “I want to see you, too,” she said sexily. His pupils dilated as he watched her undress him, her hands unsteady but determined, working their way over his tanned skin. They stilled as she cupped his erection, holding the length of him in her palms and enjoying the way his face flushed with desire.
“You’ve driven me wild this week, David,” she whispered, “and I want to do something I’ve never done before.” And though she was nervous, she was also incredibly excited. The last thing she saw before dipping her head was his face, etched with disbelief. It was a completely different feeling, to take the length of him in her mouth, but she reveled in the feel of his smooth shaft in her warm, moist mouth. He made a low sound of pleasure and she felt happiness crescendo inside of her. He’d kissed her intimately from that first night, right here in the kitchen. This felt like a fitting thing to do on their last night. And it was making her crazy with need.
She could feel him tensing and suddenly, his firm hands were on her shoulders, pushing her back. “Katie,” he groaned, “you don’t know how close I am. I need to be with you.”
A thrill of ancient pride ran through her and she pushed him gently, so that he rocked back from his haunches into a sitting position. She paused only to sheath him in a condom and then she took his length inside her, crying out as he thrust deep inside. How was she ever going to live without this pleasure?
