Undone by His Touch Page 8

  Her third kiss brushed the scar that scored his thigh.

  ‘Don’t!’ Strong hands reached for her but she resisted their pull. ‘You don’t have to. Not there.’

  ‘My turn, Declan.’ She didn’t even care that he’d hear the breathless excitement in her strangled voice. She pressed another kiss, higher this time, to the heavy muscle of his thigh. It jumped beneath her lips and his fingers tunnelled into her hair, grasping and tangling.

  ‘Like silk,’ he murmured, and Chloe knew a flash of triumph that the sound was an uneven gasp. This desperate magic was shared. He was as unravelled by it as she.

  She nuzzled his inner thigh and he froze. The hiss of his breath was loud in her ears.

  Chloe smiled as she centred herself over him. ‘Not so bossy now, are you?’ Then her hand was on him, smoothing hot satin over iron-hard arousal. Her mouth followed, a gentle kiss at first, before she let her tongue lave the full, impressive length of him.

  Fire ignited at her core and the hungry pulse between her legs clenched hard and tight.

  She wanted …

  ‘No.’ Declan grabbed her shoulders and yanked her up high. ‘You can’t.’

  Chloe revelled in the hard weight of his hands on her flesh, the heat of him beneath her, and the stark tension in his face. All for her.

  ‘I can, Declan. I want to.’ It was true. One taste and she craved more. She licked her lips, savouring the salt-and-spice taste of him.

  But his grip firmed as he shook his head.

  ‘No.’ It was a hoarse whisper. ‘I can’t last if you do that.’

  His face was taut, skin stretched across strong bones. He looked to be in pain. Tenderness welled within her and she cupped his jaw. The rasp of tiny bristles sensitised her skin.

  Leaning forward, she whispered, ‘Do you need to last?’ The notion of Declan Carstairs yielding utterly to the magic of the moment filled her with heady excitement. ‘I want you to lose control.’

  She slid her hand down and curled her fingers around him.

  He pulsed in her hold. Excitement blasted through her at his latent power and the fact that the pair of them together felt so right.

  ‘Wait!’ The order came through clenched teeth as he rolled on his side and reached for the bedside table. Reluctantly she released him. When he turned back he was sheathed and her heart gave a quick jump. She could scarcely believe she was giving herself to a man for the first time in six years. The only man since …

  But there could be no second thoughts. Sharing herself with Declan was as inevitable as the sun rising in the morning.

  She pressed her lips to his jaw, needing his scent in her nostrils, his taste on her tongue.

  He tugged her down onto his body. His erection nudged her entrance, hot and thick, and a shiver of heat ripped through her. Chloe eased back as Declan rose beneath her and in slow motion the moment went on and on. Carefully, almost gently, he filled her aching void till she trembled on the brink of an awareness she’d never before known.

  She quivered around him, her hands unsteady as she gripped his hard shoulders for balance.

  ‘Chloe.’ The word was a whisper. He sounded as stupefied as she felt. Nothing in her memory could match the word-stealing beauty of the moment.

  Internal muscles clenched and abruptly the breathless moment shattered. Declan clamped his hands at her hips, surging high, and she gasped at the exquisite pleasure of his possession.

  At his urging she sat back, knees spread around him. His hands went unerringly to her breasts, evoking ecstasy with the brush of hard fingers on crested nipples.

  This floodtide of sensation, of desperate need and eager response was overwhelming. Declan urged her higher, faster, and she complied eagerly, fingers curling over his as he held her.

  The pressure built with each thrust of his hips, each hungry slide of body on body. Chloe felt branded, possessed, yet cherished. Declan’s powerful hands caressed her tenderly even as he pumped into her body with an urgent desperation that matched her own.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he gasped. ‘I can’t … wait.’ His pulsing length filled her and the fire exploded within, toppling her over the edge into ecstasy.

  ‘Kiss me.’ Her voice in the darkness roused him from the stupor of bliss that left him boneless. ‘Please.’

  She didn’t sound like his crisply efficient housekeeper. She sounded … like he felt: drowsy, sated and stunned. As if the world had tilted on its axis and not returned to normal. For a moment he almost believed he saw shadow and light shimmer in his long-dead vision.

  Then her hands cupped his shoulders and long, soft tresses spilled around his neck and shoulders. Instantly nerve endings that had all but been obliterated by that cataclysmic orgasm tingled into life. Declan’s hands slid from her hips to her waist, closing there as if they belonged.

  ‘I love your hair,’ he whispered. ‘You should wear it down all the time.’ Then he could run his fingers through it at will, tangle his fist in it and draw her close whenever he desired.

  He desired her continually. Working with her, not touching her, had been torture.

  He heard the smile in her voice as she leaned near, her breath a tantalising puff of air on his face. ‘It would get in the way.’

  ‘I don’t care.’ Unable to resist, he caught long locks in one hand. ‘I like it.’

  ‘And what you want goes, is that it? I—’

  ‘You talk too much,’ he growled, tugging her to him. Unerringly her lips, petal-soft and delicious, met his.

  A tremor shook him. Her mouth accommodated his, opening eagerly as he thrust his tongue in to delve between her sweet lips. It struck him abruptly that kissing Chloe was unlike anything he’d shared before.

  Her taste was addictive. He anchored her head to him with one hand and plunged deep.

  Their kiss was lush, slow and thorough. A mating of mouths that sent thoughts spiralling out of control and senses tumbling.

  Women enjoyed kissing, so Declan had mastered the art early, learning to seduce and please in the lead up to the physical gratification that was his goal. Yet now this easy skill, a way of pleasing a woman and pandering to her desire for closeness, became something else.

  A groan of hunger escaped him. Declan needed this kiss as much as she. He clutched her close, savouring the sheer pleasure of Chloe’s lips on his, their breaths mingling. Joy rose, full and heavy in his chest.

  In the dark, surrounded by her scent and taste, Declan experienced a closeness he’d never before known. As if his secret yearnings were made real.

  Determination solidified in him. She would be his. Not just for one night.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHLOE woke to grey skies and the sound of drumming rain. It was late, far too late to lie in bed.

  Vaguely she remembered surfacing early, replete and warm in Declan’s arms, only to find passion awakening as he feathered kisses over her face and throat.

  Her pulse throbbed at the memory of their dawn love-making. Declan had been intent, his movements slow and devastatingly thorough, till she’d screamed her release, clutching him close. She’d fallen into blissful sleep moments after his climax made him slump, spent, in her arms.

  She’d never slept as soundly as she had in Declan’s bed.

  But it must be mid-morning. She slid cautiously towards the side of the bed, trying not to wake him.

  A hand on her upper arm stopped her.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Even drowsy, his voice held a deep, commanding timbre that tickled every sense.

  ‘It’s time I got up. It’s late.’

  ‘Don’t go.’ He hauled her back, wrapped his arm around her and turned her towards him.

  She loved being cocooned against him, safe in his strong embrace. Her body relaxed like a cat cuddling into warmth. At the brush of wiry chest hair against sensitised breasts a jolt of response arrowed to her pelvis.

  Chloe shook her head. How many times had they made love? Still her body melted whenever they
touched. Surely that compulsion should have eased? This was all too new and unfamiliar. She needed time to find her balance.

  Even as she thought it, he moved and the hot slide of his erection stroked her thigh.

  ‘You’re incorrigible!’

  ‘Is that a complaint?’ She loved the lazy chuckle in his voice, even though it turned her insides to mush. It was wonderful to hear him smile.

  ‘No, but I need to get up. I can’t stay here all day.’ Though the idea was tempting.

  ‘Why? What’s so important?’

  ‘The usual chores—cleaning, cooking, a trip to the shops. All the things a housekeeper does.’

  ‘Nothing that can’t wait.’ He stroked a finger down her cheek and she almost purred aloud. She was so attuned to him, physically as well as emotionally. ‘Except the shops. We’ll go later; I’ve almost run out of condoms.’

  Chloe choked on a gasp of laughter. The pulse between her legs quickened, shocking her anew.

  For years she’d forgotten physical passion existed. Now she was at its mercy because of Declan.

  She looked into his wickedly amused face, noting again how he seemed to meet her gaze though he couldn’t see her. It was as if, even blind, he sensed so much about her.

  Did he sense that, despite the stunning sex, for her this wasn’t just about the physical? That what she felt for him grew perilously close to true caring?

  ‘I really should get up.’ She tried for crisp and decisive, but her voice came out wobbly.

  ‘Why? Is your ogre of a boss going to give you the third degree over why you’re late?’

  One side of his mouth tilted up in a smile that tugged her chest tight. It was so rare, so precious, she wanted to savour it.

  ‘My ogre of a boss probably has a stack of new emails for me to check. After I’ve cooked our breakfast.’

  ‘Mmm, breakfast. Now you mention it, I am hungry.’ He lowered his head to her breast, sucking at the nipple till it stood erect, then nipping it with a gentle bite that sent every nerve ending into shivering overdrive.

  ‘Declan.’ Half-heartedly she pushed at his shoulders, distracted by the sensations he evoked. Finally he pulled back, heat simmering in the depths of his dark eyes.

  ‘Maybe you’re right about breakfast. What food is there on that tray you brought last night?’

  ‘Fruit. You’ll need something more substantial. I’ll go and—’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere, Chloe. Not yet.’ He tightened his hold. ‘Are you always this dedicated to your job or are you looking for a reason to escape?’ The humour left his voice and his brows drew down in a familiar frown. She wanted to reach up and smooth it away. It reminded her of his raw reaction last night when he’d thought himself the object of pity. What they shared was so fragile.

  ‘Of course I don’t want to escape.’ Couldn’t he tell by the way her body curled into his, her fingers threading through his thick, dark locks?

  Slowly she released her hold and let her hand slide away. What she felt was so intense, so confusing. These weeks had been an emotional roller coaster that had thrown them closer with each sweeping turn. If she was sensible she’d find time away from him to sort out her feelings.

  But she didn’t want to be sensible. Didn’t want to consider the barriers between them—his status and power or her role as his employee.

  ‘It’s just that I’ve got a job to do.’

  ‘Take the day off. Boss’s orders.’ He stroked a finger across her lips to silence her protest. He lay back and pulled her close, settling her head on his shoulder and wrapping his other hand possessively around her waist.

  He wanted her company as much as her body, she realised, remembering how he sought her out even when he didn’t have work for her. Trembling excitement flared. Perhaps some of what she felt was shared.

  ‘How did you come to be a housekeeper, anyway? Aren’t you a bit young?’

  ‘Old housekeepers must have been young once.’

  He shrugged and the movement drew her closer. Chloe breathed deep, addicted to the spicy scent of his skin.

  ‘Most of them come to the job after keeping house for their husbands and families.’

  She’d shared a flat with Mark, but that wasn’t what Declan meant, nor did she plan to reveal that part of her past yet. Her feelings for Declan were too raw.

  ‘You know a lot about housekeepers? You’ve seduced plenty?’ Chloe tried to keep the conversation light.

  ‘Never. You’re the first.’ His voice rumbled up from beneath her ear and she snuggled closer. ‘And I’m not sure I’d call it a seduction. More like a mutual explosion.’

  He paused, as if waiting for her to say something but she kept her lips closed, afraid of what might slip out.

  ‘Yes, I grew up with housekeepers, here and in the family home in Sydney. My grandparents had them too. Worthy women with aprons and no-nonsense attitudes.’

  Declan’s hand stroked her waist. ‘You don’t fit the mould, Chloe Daniels.’

  She shrugged, trying to ignore the tremors raying out from his touch. ‘Nevertheless, it’s what I do.’

  ‘Did you always want to keep house?’

  Chloe shook her head. ‘I never knew what I wanted. Except as a teenager when all I wanted was to rebel.’

  ‘That’s normal. I was only eighteen, wet behind the ears, when I broke out on my own rather than follow in any of the family businesses.’

  ‘That sounds very … commendable.’

  He shifted as if turning to watch her, though of course that was impossible. ‘How did you rebel?’

  Chloe smiled wistfully. Strange how good it felt to share her past with the man who’d had her on edge for ages. She wrapped her arm tighter round his chest and was rewarded with a throaty murmur of approval.

  ‘I was on the other side of the railway tracks from you, literally. By twelve I’d joined a graffiti gang and spent most of my nights in back alleys and on deserted railway sidings wielding spray cans.’

  Declan shook his head. ‘You never cease to intrigue me. That’s so far from the image you project.’

  ‘Which is?’

  His hand stroked her side and she shivered as waves of delicious pleasure spread from his touch.

  ‘Competent, no nonsense, reliable.’ His caress changed, slid up towards her breasts. ‘Delectable, sexy …’

  ‘Enough!’ Chloe grabbed his marauding hand. Tempted as she was, every time she gave herself to him it felt as if she lost a little more of her precious self-possession.

  ‘You must have given your parents a few grey hairs.’

  ‘I didn’t live with my parents. I was fostered out.’ Her lips firmed on memories of being shunted between foster homes. Of the desperate uncertainty, the hope, fear and distress of yet another move when things didn’t work out. She rarely spoke of her childhood.

  ‘That must have been tough.’

  She shrugged, remembering the pressure to fit in, to be cute and compliant, undemanding and above all helpful, no matter how stressful the new placement. It had been a struggle for a lanky kid with bright hair and freckles whose smart mouth had hidden desperate self-doubt.

  ‘I got by. After school I got a job as a chamber maid in a hotel and from there sort of fell into housekeeping.’

  No need to explain that was the only job she’d been able to get with her poor school results. She and school hadn’t got on, not till right at the end when she’d been placed with her foster parents Ted and Martha. Then she’d begun to blossom under their loving kindness.

  ‘How do you go from that to running a place like Carinya?’

  Chloe paused. Her past and Declan’s were so different. His, a success story from birth. Hers, almost the opposite, until Ted and Martha, and then Mark. Declan worked not because he needed the cash but because he loved the cut-and-thrust world of business. For her work was a necessity. She needed every cent of her generous wage to cover Ted’s expensive private rehabilitation facility. Then one day, wh
en she’d saved enough, she’d open a catering business.

  ‘Hard work. I was determined to make a success of myself. Lots of training—I did so many hospitality and catering courses I could whip up a cordon bleu meal for twenty if you needed it. Or a multi-tiered wedding cake.’

  She halted, her pulse hammering as nausea rose at the idea of organising a wedding breakfast for Declan and some society darling. She hurried on. ‘And there was luck too.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  She looked up at him, trying to gauge his interest. His damaged face, so familiar to her now, still had the power to make her chest squeeze tight.

  ‘Why? It’s not particularly interesting.’ Chloe wasn’t used to talking about herself. Was she afraid telling him would reinforce the social chasm between them? Was she such a coward?

  ‘I’m interested, Chloe.’

  He pressed a kiss to her lips and something inside melted. The tension that had risen thinking of her disastrous childhood eased. Even her anxiety about this fragile new relationship ebbed in the face of the well-being she felt in Declan’s embrace.

  Was there anything more important now than sharing with him? Building on this closeness? She’d already laid herself open, letting him in. She needed the courage to go further. She shivered, acknowledging she wanted the chance to have him in her life, not just for a short fling.

  ‘I was working at an upmarket hotel in Sydney when Damon Ives came to stay.’

  ‘The actor?’

  Chloe nodded, remembering the excitement among the staff when his visit had coincided with his first Oscar nomination. ‘Yes. I was one of the staff rostered to look after his suite. He got to know me over the month he stayed and at the end he offered me a job.’

  ‘Really?’ The rhythmic stroke of Declan’s hand stopped abruptly and she was sure she detected disapproval in his tone.

  ‘Yes, really.’ She stiffened. It wasn’t the first time she’d encountered suspicion about her relationship with one of the country’s most handsome and charismatic stars. ‘And before you jump to conclusions, Declan Carstairs, let me say I impressed him with my willingness to help out when he needed extra assistance. That’s all.’ She didn’t say more. Damon had a right to privacy.