Second Chance Girl
Page 47
She’d expected him to say something like, “You were a fool. Did you really think you were going to be a model?” Or “Could your story be less interesting?” Smitten? Smitten? Who used that word? Who meant it?
Ulrich turned back to look at the river. “You don’t have to say anything, Violet. Your silence speaks volumes, as they say. Not to worry. I’ll be gone soon enough.”
He spoke lightly, as if he was perfectly fine with his assessment of her lack of response, only that hadn’t been what she meant.
She spun to face him and grabbed his arm. “No,” she said quickly. “I’m not speaking with my silence. I was surprised by what you said.” She smiled. “Good surprised. I mean that. I’m fairly smitten myself.”
His features relaxed as he smiled back at her. “You are?”
“Yes. Unfortunately that means we find ourselves in quite a pickle.”
His dark blue gaze settled on her face. “Because I’m leaving?”
“That has been made pretty clear. You’re not from around here. I get that—what with the clues. Your accent, the funny clothes.”
He glanced down at his jeans and long-sleeved shirt. “How are my clothes funny?”
They weren’t but she liked teasing him. She had a feeling Ulrich didn’t get a lot of teasing in his life these days. “They’re just so British. And royal.”
“I’m not royal.”
“Sorry. They’re so dukeish.”
“As am I.”
They looked at each other. She read wanting in his eyes. There were other emotions but that was the one she was going with, mostly because she liked it. But when he didn’t move toward her or try to kiss her, she wondered if maybe he wouldn’t...because he was leaving. Because it would be bad form or whatever it was he would say. And because he was, at heart, a gentleman. He’d asked once and she’d refused. She doubted he would ask again.
Yet another pickle, she thought, although this one had a very simple solution.
She rose on tiptoe and lightly brushed her lips against his. The sound of his inhale was audible. His body stiffened, but he didn’t touch her.
“Violet,” he began.
She took his hand in hers. “I’m sure.”
He laced his fingers with hers. They walked back to her car and she drove to her place, then eyed the stairs up to her loft.
“You’ll never make that,” she said. “Let me grab a few things and I’ll take us to your hotel.”
Ulrich got out of the car. “I’m perfectly fine and extremely motivated. I can handle the stairs.”
“But your leg—”
“Is really the least of it,” he assured her. “Trust me.”
He was as good as his word. He climbed the single flight easily, then waited while she opened the front door. Once they were inside, he glanced at the open space, nodded approvingly, then pulled her close.
His kiss claimed her with mastery that left her reeling. She went from interested to take me now, big boy in less than two seconds. As his tongue brushed against hers, his hands moved up and down her back before settling on her hips. Heat burned. Heat and need and some whisper of emotion she dare not name. Not now...maybe not ever.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on as if she would never let go. He was tall and strong. Lean, yet powerful.
They kissed for the longest time. Deep, slow kisses that seemed to tug at her soul. He could have touched her anywhere, but he didn’t—not at first. Finally, when she was ready to complain that she wanted things to move just a little faster, he slid up her sides and lightly stroked her breasts.
Wanting grew as her breathing quickened. She broke the kiss to lead him to her bed at the far end of the loft. She set an unopened box of condoms on her nightstand, then unbuttoned his shirt. He unzipped her dress and let it fall to the ground.
With each article of clothing, they paused to explore, to touch, to taste. The feel of his mouth on her breasts had her moaning. The warmth of his skin against her fingers was its own form of arousal. Every touch, every kiss, every move was a promise.
She slid into bed first and he followed. He touched her everywhere before easing his fingers between her legs. He quickly found her swollen center and pleasured her until she found her release. While she was still lost in the aftermath of her orgasm, he put on a condom and eased inside of her.
She kept her eyes open, wanting to watch him—only he was watching her, as well. Even as he began to move inside of her, their gazes stayed locked, as if neither was going to be the first to look away.
The combination of what he was doing and their intense stares touched more than just her body. It was as if she and Ulrich really were becoming the same being.
He moved slowly, steadily, filling her until she couldn’t help arching her back and drawing him in deeper. The telltale pressure began again and she knew she was close to a second orgasm. He quickened his pace, exciting her further. Her breath turned to pants as her body tensed.
“Come for me, Violet.”
His voice was low and guttural. The words were just enough to push her over the edge. She cried out as her body surrendered. He groaned and pushed in deeper, before thrusting faster and faster until he, too, was lost in his release.
Later, when they lay together, a tangle of arms and legs, her head on his chest, his hand on her side, she wondered what on earth she was supposed to do now. Great sex was one thing and yes, she would think about making love with Ulrich often after he was gone. But there was no danger in that kind of longing.
The bigger problem wasn’t with her body, it was with her heart. Somehow while she hadn’t been paying attention, Ulrich had found his way inside the very essence of her. She’d fallen in love with him and having done so, she had no idea how she was supposed to let him go.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MATHIAS STOOD OUTSIDE his house like a prisoner waiting for execution. He supposed there were those who would say he was being dramatic, but those people hadn’t met Ceallach Mitchell. Nothing about this visit was going to go well—at least not from his perspective. He could only hope that Del and Maya had a great wedding and didn’t sense any of the underlying tension.
Sophie sat at his side, her tail wagging tentatively. She knew something was going to happen and given how happy her life was, surely it would be good, but she had no frame of reference.
“Your mom’s going to be here soon,” he told the dog.
Her tail wagged faster as she responded to his friendly tone, but she didn’t understand the words.
Del came out and joined them. “You could wait inside. We can see the car when it pulls up.”
“Being outside is better.”
Not that he was going to bolt, but if he had to, he was closer to his car.
“You okay?” Del asked.
“Never better.”
“Does lying help?”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
A car rounded the bend. As it got closer, Mathias felt his gut clench, as if in anticipation of a fist. Not that Ceallach would be hitting anyone. He’d stopped doing that when his sons had gotten big enough to hit back. No, he thought grimly. Not his sons. Del.
Del had been the oldest, the first to stand between Ceallach and the younger boys. He’d been the one to tell their father to stop it. Mathias still remembered how surprised he’d been when Ceallach had listened.
“Thanks for getting between us and him,” Mathias told his brother.
Ulrich turned back to look at the river. “You don’t have to say anything, Violet. Your silence speaks volumes, as they say. Not to worry. I’ll be gone soon enough.”
He spoke lightly, as if he was perfectly fine with his assessment of her lack of response, only that hadn’t been what she meant.
She spun to face him and grabbed his arm. “No,” she said quickly. “I’m not speaking with my silence. I was surprised by what you said.” She smiled. “Good surprised. I mean that. I’m fairly smitten myself.”
His features relaxed as he smiled back at her. “You are?”
“Yes. Unfortunately that means we find ourselves in quite a pickle.”
His dark blue gaze settled on her face. “Because I’m leaving?”
“That has been made pretty clear. You’re not from around here. I get that—what with the clues. Your accent, the funny clothes.”
He glanced down at his jeans and long-sleeved shirt. “How are my clothes funny?”
They weren’t but she liked teasing him. She had a feeling Ulrich didn’t get a lot of teasing in his life these days. “They’re just so British. And royal.”
“I’m not royal.”
“Sorry. They’re so dukeish.”
“As am I.”
They looked at each other. She read wanting in his eyes. There were other emotions but that was the one she was going with, mostly because she liked it. But when he didn’t move toward her or try to kiss her, she wondered if maybe he wouldn’t...because he was leaving. Because it would be bad form or whatever it was he would say. And because he was, at heart, a gentleman. He’d asked once and she’d refused. She doubted he would ask again.
Yet another pickle, she thought, although this one had a very simple solution.
She rose on tiptoe and lightly brushed her lips against his. The sound of his inhale was audible. His body stiffened, but he didn’t touch her.
“Violet,” he began.
She took his hand in hers. “I’m sure.”
He laced his fingers with hers. They walked back to her car and she drove to her place, then eyed the stairs up to her loft.
“You’ll never make that,” she said. “Let me grab a few things and I’ll take us to your hotel.”
Ulrich got out of the car. “I’m perfectly fine and extremely motivated. I can handle the stairs.”
“But your leg—”
“Is really the least of it,” he assured her. “Trust me.”
He was as good as his word. He climbed the single flight easily, then waited while she opened the front door. Once they were inside, he glanced at the open space, nodded approvingly, then pulled her close.
His kiss claimed her with mastery that left her reeling. She went from interested to take me now, big boy in less than two seconds. As his tongue brushed against hers, his hands moved up and down her back before settling on her hips. Heat burned. Heat and need and some whisper of emotion she dare not name. Not now...maybe not ever.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on as if she would never let go. He was tall and strong. Lean, yet powerful.
They kissed for the longest time. Deep, slow kisses that seemed to tug at her soul. He could have touched her anywhere, but he didn’t—not at first. Finally, when she was ready to complain that she wanted things to move just a little faster, he slid up her sides and lightly stroked her breasts.
Wanting grew as her breathing quickened. She broke the kiss to lead him to her bed at the far end of the loft. She set an unopened box of condoms on her nightstand, then unbuttoned his shirt. He unzipped her dress and let it fall to the ground.
With each article of clothing, they paused to explore, to touch, to taste. The feel of his mouth on her breasts had her moaning. The warmth of his skin against her fingers was its own form of arousal. Every touch, every kiss, every move was a promise.
She slid into bed first and he followed. He touched her everywhere before easing his fingers between her legs. He quickly found her swollen center and pleasured her until she found her release. While she was still lost in the aftermath of her orgasm, he put on a condom and eased inside of her.
She kept her eyes open, wanting to watch him—only he was watching her, as well. Even as he began to move inside of her, their gazes stayed locked, as if neither was going to be the first to look away.
The combination of what he was doing and their intense stares touched more than just her body. It was as if she and Ulrich really were becoming the same being.
He moved slowly, steadily, filling her until she couldn’t help arching her back and drawing him in deeper. The telltale pressure began again and she knew she was close to a second orgasm. He quickened his pace, exciting her further. Her breath turned to pants as her body tensed.
“Come for me, Violet.”
His voice was low and guttural. The words were just enough to push her over the edge. She cried out as her body surrendered. He groaned and pushed in deeper, before thrusting faster and faster until he, too, was lost in his release.
Later, when they lay together, a tangle of arms and legs, her head on his chest, his hand on her side, she wondered what on earth she was supposed to do now. Great sex was one thing and yes, she would think about making love with Ulrich often after he was gone. But there was no danger in that kind of longing.
The bigger problem wasn’t with her body, it was with her heart. Somehow while she hadn’t been paying attention, Ulrich had found his way inside the very essence of her. She’d fallen in love with him and having done so, she had no idea how she was supposed to let him go.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MATHIAS STOOD OUTSIDE his house like a prisoner waiting for execution. He supposed there were those who would say he was being dramatic, but those people hadn’t met Ceallach Mitchell. Nothing about this visit was going to go well—at least not from his perspective. He could only hope that Del and Maya had a great wedding and didn’t sense any of the underlying tension.
Sophie sat at his side, her tail wagging tentatively. She knew something was going to happen and given how happy her life was, surely it would be good, but she had no frame of reference.
“Your mom’s going to be here soon,” he told the dog.
Her tail wagged faster as she responded to his friendly tone, but she didn’t understand the words.
Del came out and joined them. “You could wait inside. We can see the car when it pulls up.”
“Being outside is better.”
Not that he was going to bolt, but if he had to, he was closer to his car.
“You okay?” Del asked.
“Never better.”
“Does lying help?”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
A car rounded the bend. As it got closer, Mathias felt his gut clench, as if in anticipation of a fist. Not that Ceallach would be hitting anyone. He’d stopped doing that when his sons had gotten big enough to hit back. No, he thought grimly. Not his sons. Del.
Del had been the oldest, the first to stand between Ceallach and the younger boys. He’d been the one to tell their father to stop it. Mathias still remembered how surprised he’d been when Ceallach had listened.
“Thanks for getting between us and him,” Mathias told his brother.
