He had her. Alone. At last.
With a sigh of relief he unbuttoned the double row of buttons and pushed the chef’s jacket from her shoulders. His shirt, trousers, underpants and her sinful dress all followed, then he tumbled back onto the bed, taking her with him. She landed sprawled, all soft skin and tousled curls against his nakedness.
A moan of satisfaction shook him. “Kiss me, Miranda.”
She obliged, and her hair caressed him, tresses scented with the vanilla that teased his dreams. He played his hands over her shoulders, along her back, and his fingers encountered her bra strap. He undid the clasp. She lifted her torso, and as the halter-neck bra fell away she wriggled free.
Callum gasped.
Her breasts hung above him. Full, ripe curves that tempted him to touch…to taste.
He reached out reverently and caressed the berry nubs with gentle fingers. She arched sharply, and a keening sound broke from her throat. Seeking to taste her, he closed his mouth around the dark tip and sucked it. It hardened further, and he knew she was as desperate for him as he for her.
Keeping his mouth on her breast, he slid a hand down over the swell of her stomach and dipped between her legs-and found her moist and ready.
Before he could take the next step, her legs wrapped around his hips and she pushed herself upright, breaking the contact of his mouth on her.
Miranda rubbed herself along the rigid length of his erection. Callum nearly came apart. Only a brief bit of satin separated them from the final sweet connection they both sought. Impatiently he pushed the thin thong of her panties aside and, the delicate barrier gone, she sank down on him.
Pure ecstasy.
He growled in delight. Miranda moved above him and heat consumed him in a bright white flash. Clasping his hands over her hips, he fought to control the pace. But when she bent forward and outlined his mouth with her tongue, laving his lips, Callum moaned, his resolve crumbling. Then she sealed the caress with a kiss. And all the while he drove fiercely, desperately upward into her.
Callum shuddered, his body full of tension. She fell forward, boneless, breathless, on top of his chest, her hair silky against his cheeks, her fragrance embracing him.
And the heat exploded around them, tumbling them into the hot vortex of desire.
Eleven
Callum woke to a sense of supreme satisfaction.
Miranda lay curled up beside him under the covers, one hand resting on his bare chest, spreading warmth through him. It felt so right. Her hand belonged there, against his skin. Over his heart. He wanted to wake every morning to her touch, to the softness of her body tucked against his, her golden hair tousled around her face.
She was his.
The strength of emotion that surged through him awed him. Reaching out, he brushed a silky curl away from her cheek. She stirred.
Her eyes opened, and in the pale morning light that spilled through his bedroom window Callum saw something warm and wonderful in their golden-brown depths. Then alarm took over, chasing the glow out and filling her eyes with shadows.
She was about to withdraw from him. He couldn’t-wouldn’t-allow that to happen. Not after last night.
“Don’t move,” he demanded.
She blinked up at him. “Why?”
“Because I want to look at you.”
Miranda gave a breathy laugh and shifted away, leaving a cold space in the bed beside him.
“You’re making me feel uncomfortable.”
“Don’t feel uncomfortable.” He rolled closer and cupped his hand under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You better get used to it. I’ll never tire of looking at you.”
Something flickered in the caramel eyes that melted his heart. “Oh, yes, you will.”
He shook his head. “No, I won’t.” Not ever. But he wasn’t ready to confess that yet. Instead he let his fingertips caress the soft skin of her cheek. “What we had last night…I want more.”
Yet he couldn’t put the unfamiliar emotions and desires that churned inside him into words. All he knew was that he wanted to savor this…thing…that bound them together. Driven by an impulse, he leaned forward and pressed his lips fiercely against hers, determined to make her acknowledge the power of his need.
Last night’s wild heat returned in a rush. Swirling through him, racing through his bloodstream, quickening the passion that had ignited at the first touch of his lips to hers. Her lips parted, his tongue plundered the warm depths of her mouth.
And words became unnecessary.
It was the sound of the dogs barking, a shout from Hunter and the lilt of feminine laughter outside that brought Callum abruptly back to his senses. He stared down at the woman who had made him forget everything. His family. His work. He caught sight of the clock on the bed stand. Even the time.
He gave a husky laugh. “My God, I was ready to take you again.”
She was breathing quickly, and her eyes had gone dark with desire. The covers had shifted, revealing a pale, creamy shoulder and the slope of one breast. Want surged through him, and he hauled in a ragged breath.
“We better get up.” With heavy reluctance he sat up and shrugged the bedclothes off. “Breakfast will be ready-and I don’t want anyone coming searching for us.” He wanted to keep the intimate joy he’d found with Miranda a secret from the world.
“No, we don’t want that.”
Miranda moved away, and this time he let her. Her cheeks were stained a rosy pink from the kiss they’d shared, and she took care to keep her nakedness covered. “Your mother told me she was old-fashioned, and didn’t approve of us sharing rooms. I feel like I’ve abused her trust.”
There was a strange expression in her eyes.
Callum resisted the impulse to pull her back into his arms, tumble her against the rumpled sheets and possess her with the desire that burned so hotly within him. Instead he said, “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. My mother will be only too pleased that I’ve found someone.”
Uncertainty glimmered in her eyes. “I don’t want to deceive your mother-your family-any further.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
Her shoulders stiffened, and her eyes grew wary. “So what are you asking?”
Callum hesitated. Hell, what was he asking? For a moment fear closed around him. He shook it away. This was no time to get cold feet. But he tempered what he meant to say. “I want to make this fake relationship real.”
He thought he glimpsed joy in the gold-brown eyes. Too quickly it was gone. For a moment he thought she was going to object. Then she smiled. “I’d like that, too.”
An overwhelming relief settled over him. Miranda hadn’t refused outright as he’d half expected. She had said yes.
And he had no intention of letting her escape.
Miranda floated downstairs after a quick stop at her room to pull on something more suitable than the red halter-neck dress she’d been wearing last night. She was unable to suppress the silly smile that curved her lips, all too conscious of the man padding down the stairs beside her, his fingers loosely linked with hers.
No doubt she was heading for heartbreak, falling for Callum. It was stupid. Totally insane. Yet she couldn’t help herself.
And she would allow herself no regrets.
This was her last chance to seize a slice of happiness for herself. It wouldn’t last. But she would enjoy it while it did. Because it would be over too soon-she knew that. As surely as she knew that Callum Ironstone would not fall in love with someone like her. He would find someone with the class and the social connections he needed. Not an embezzler’s daughter living under the fog of her father’s notoriety.
They entered the dining room, and her gaze settled on Petra. Someone like Petra Harris.