“I try to keep apprised of the news. I told you, I read some of your mom’s stuff. She’s a well-known author. I never heard their names connected with that train derailment, though.”
She just nodded, her throat too tight to speak for a few seconds. Finally, she inhaled with a hitching breath, and forced a smile.
“It probably sounds stupid, that I’m still grieving them so much, a thirty-two-year-old woman. It’s just . . . I was an only child. And we were close, even though we lived on opposite coasts.” She swallowed thickly. Why was she telling him all this? It was inappropriate. Her thoughts couldn’t stop her from continuing. “I could have been with them, at the end.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had a ticket,” she said hoarsely. “That was part of Mom’s dream, for it to be a family vacation. But another reporter had to go in for surgery, and I had to take over his beat. I was forced to cancel the trip.”
“Thank God.”
“You don’t understand. I mean . . . I wouldn’t have chosen to die with them. It’s not that. I just regret . . .”
“That you couldn’t have spent those last days and hours with them. No one can put a price on that.”
Her gaze jumped to his. He had understood. He stood so close. She found herself sinking into his eyes.
“Even though I lived so far away from them, I never realized until after they were gone—”
“What?” he asked when she broke off.
“That I’d never felt alone before, even though I’d lived on my own since I finished college. They were always there, somehow, with me in some intangible way that I’d never bothered to consider before.”
He leaned forward, his lips brushing against her temple. “Until they weren’t anymore,” she finished shakily, her head tilting back.
Suddenly, he was kissing her.
A shock of pleasure went through her at the contact. His mouth was as firm as it looked, but surprisingly warm and gentle. He plucked at her lower lip seductively, sandwiching her fle
sh to his, until a shaky moan vibrated her throat. The kiss was a little cautious at first, as though he was testing the waters . . .
No, more like he was coaxing her to be with him, asking her to connect with him.
But as the spark ignited in her—in both of them, apparently—his kiss turned dark and demanding. He gripped her upper arms tighter, bringing her closer to him, and penetrated her mouth with his tongue.
It was as if he drugged her. A haze of lust overcame her brain. His scent and taste pervaded her. He felt big and hard, so solid next to her. So fantastically male. His tongue pierced and stroked her mouth, discovering her with patient yet total possession. She could feel the contours of his body, the sensation of his hardening cock deepening her trance of harsh, unexpected need.
His hands swept over the bare skin of her back. Her nerves leapt at his touch. She pressed her breasts tighter against his torso, instinctively using his hardness to ease the ache at the crests. She felt his cock swell higher against her. His fingers raked into her hair. He gently fisted a bunch of it and tugged. Her neck stretched back, and suddenly his mouth was on her pulse, hot and greedy. He inhaled and gave a low growl, the feral sound thrilling her. She whimpered as he kissed her neck and shivers of pleasure rippled through her. He found her mouth again unerringly.
She felt herself go wet . . . ready for him so quickly. So completely.
He lifted his mouth from hers. Her eyes drifted closed at the heady sensation of his warm, firm lips caressing the corner of her mouth. The realization that he avidly kissed the small scar there jolted through her. She flinched. Her eyes sprang open. She’d caught herself, just as she was about to spin out of control. It was akin to not realizing how strong an alcoholic drink was until you tried to stand, and couldn’t.
She stepped back, breaking his hold. She clamped her teeth hard at the abrupt deprivation, but forced herself to put three feet between them. He didn’t move. He appeared strained, as if he’d been chained into place. His eyes seemed to burn in an otherwise frozen face. Was that anger that tightened his features? Was he pissed off that she’d stopped him?
“I’m going,” she said simply.
She thought he remained in place. She couldn’t know for certain, though, because she didn’t look back as she rushed out the door.
• • •
The valet was just returning with a couple’s car when she reached the front entrance. Harper waited impatiently as he alighted, glancing back toward the path through the woods. But Latimer hadn’t followed her. Perhaps he’d taken another path back toward the main house. He probably wouldn’t think twice about her, once she’d refused him.
Don’t be such a bitch, she scolded herself. For the most part, he was nothing but kind toward you all night.
Although, why he was so attentive remains a mystery.
I acted like a sixteen-year-old, running away just because he kissed me.