A matter of heart, p.38
A Matter of Heart, page 38
And, more importantly, I trust him with my life. So I nod, closing my eyes.
“No peeking, okay?”
I nod again.
I hear him get out of the Jeep; gravel crunches before my door opens. His warm hand takes my arm and he guides me out, not letting me stumble once as my feet hit the ground. We walk what feels like a good distance, before there’s a slight slope, one I don’t remember seeing. Had there been a slant in the buildings?
Voices sound nearby, but they quiet down the closer we get. Suddenly we head up a slope. “Take a really large step forwards.”
I do as he asks. The ground under me shifts.
I grip him much more tightly. “Is it me or did the ground just move?”
He chuckles. “Step down.” Then he leads me a little further, the ground below me rocking. “Okay, open your eyes.”
And I gasp, because we’re standing on the deck of a beautiful white boat. Two men nearby begin untying it from the dock as another two jump on board and head towards the bow.
I clap my hands like a little girl and squeal. “Kellan, do you have a boat in addition to a zillion houses?”
“This is a rental. And it’s a yacht.”
“I can’t believe we’re on a boat!” I’m still squealing as he leads me to a cushioned bench curving around the back.
“Yacht,” he clarifies again. “And you said you wanted to see the Nā Pali coast either by boat or helicopter. I just figured it would be easier to have dinner at sea. This okay?”
“Is this okay?” I’m bouncing in my seat. “Of course it’s okay! This is awesome!”
The yacht cruises the entire length of the Nā Pali coastline; from this vantage, it’s even more spectacular. Then we come back part way, lowering anchor in front of a gorgeous valley. The very same valley, I believe, that Kellan introduced me to just hours before.
One of the men brings up a small table and two chairs to set up on the deck. “I had really, really short notice,” Kellan says, pushing my chair in for me, “so I just ordered chicken. I hope you don’t mind.”
I can’t even answer that as I’m still so stunned we’re on a yacht. In the Pacific. In front of one of the most gorgeous sights ever.
As soon as they determine we’re okay and don’t need anything at the moment, the two men on board retreat below the deck, leaving Kellan and I alone.
“You are the best Kellan,” I sigh happily after taking a tiny bite.
He doesn’t hide the wistfulness that flashes across his face fast enough. “I’m glad you like it.”
It’s only around five o’clock, still sunny on the island, but there’s a shadow falling across the coastline. A set of twinkling Christmas lights flare to life above us. Music floats over the deck, soft, dreamy, and perfect for dancing.
It’s unbearably romantic. How can a girl handle such things? First Tahiti, now this?
“I’m really glad I ran into you today.”
He fiddles with his fork. “All the girls say just that when I take them out on yachts.”
I know he meant it as a joke, but I can’t find it funny. Jealousy rears its ugly head once more. “So you do this often?”
He gives me a look. “No, C.”
Even still, I can’t help but feel bitter at all the nameless, faceless girls that get his time when I don’t. “Do you ever bring them anywhere?” When he looks confused, I clarify, “You know, to any of your exotic homes?”
“No.” He’s clearly uncomfortable, shifting in his chair. “I never got around to telling any of them that I own any.”
Got. Not get. It shouldn’t make a difference to me, but it does. “What about Sophie?”
There’s that look again. “No.”
“You told me.”
“That’s different. Besides,” he murmurs, “technically they’re yours now, too.”
For both our sakes, I need to change the subject, stat. Thinking about the weird sounds I’d heard earlier, I ask, “What were you getting in your bedroom?”
He blushes and tugs at his collar, quadrupling his charming quotient. “Joey always insisted we keep some local money in each of the houses, just in case it was needed. I don’t have a lot of dollars on me right now, considering when I left my apartment this morning, I didn’t know I was coming to Hawaii.”
My fork clinks against the plate. “You have a box of money in your house? Where anyone could get it?”
“Not anyone.” He refolds his napkin on his lap. “It’s hidden in a secret compartment. Only my brother and I know how to get into it. I’ll show you before we leave tonight, just in case the next time you decide to run away, you won’t starve like the last time.”
Ouch. “I’m too impulsive for my own good,” I joke.
“I know we agreed to live in the moment earlier,” he says much more seriously, “but I really hope if you decide to bolt again, you’ll let me know where you are.”
“I was stupid to run,” I admit. He doesn’t argue with me. I shove the chicken around my plate. Shave ice is one thing, poultry is another. Time for another subject changer. I’m on a roll tonight. “Did you like snorkeling? You said you and Callie snorkeled here?”
“It was fun.” He chuckles. “Cal freaked out, though. She thought she was going to drown the whole time.”
It’s seriously hard to imagine Callie freaking out over something as mundane as snorkeling, especially since she admitted to also being an adrenaline junkie recently. “Is that something you guys do a lot?”
“First and last time, I’m afraid.”
“And you excelled at it, right?” I give him a winning smile. “Is there anything you don’t automatically excel at?”
“I haven’t been particularly good at getting you to love me.”
My heart sinks. I hate that he thinks this. “That’s not true at all.”
It’s his turn to rearrange the chicken on his plate.
“Kellan.” I reach out and cover one his hands. “I love you. You know that.”
It’s heartfelt, but he pulls away so he can go lean against the railing. After a few minutes, he drops into one of the lounge chairs on the main deck. “We shouldn’t talk about this.”
I’m a fool. He gives me the perfect out, and yet, I still come over and sit on the arm of his chair. “Why not?”
“You know why.”
I do. And he’s absolutely right. But, as always when it comes to Kellan, I can’t think clearly for an extended amount of time. I love him, and I’ve missed him, and sometimes it’s too much of a struggle to stay away, especially when the pull to him feels as strongly as it does right now.
I wish I were as strong as he apparently is, but I’m not. Because, as I stare down at him, my heart squeezes hard, and all my willpower and decisions made over the last few weeks are hidden in the twilight around us.
When we give in and kiss, there’s nothing to indicate that just a few minutes earlier, he’d urged caution. I shift into the chair, bringing a leg on either side of him so that I’m straddling his torso. He slides back in the chair, bringing me down with him as we keep kissing. My heart is racing so fast that it’s hard to catch my breath, but I just don’t care, because each time we kiss, there’s always the belief it could be the last.
So I kiss him desperately, like my life depends on it. And it’s thrilling that he kisses me back the exact same way. His mouth is magic, his hands are bliss, and every inch of me that’s touching him is buzzing and humming with so much pleasure that it’s astounding my bones haven’t liquefied yet.
I want him so much that it feels like I’ll die if I don’t let him consume me.
There are a thousand things I want to tell him, about how he makes me feel when he touches me, what his kisses do to my insides, how I get woozy when I smell him, like right now, how I’m so lightheaded I feel like I’m flying. His hands and body are the only things grounding me. But I can’t say any of these things because I’m no longer capable of speech. So I show him, instead.
I love him, need him so much it hurts.
I’m working on the buttons to his shorts when he gasps, “Wait.”
Why do men have so many buttons on their pants? What happened to zippers?
“Maybe,” he murmurs, breath heavy against my mouth, “we . . . should . . . stop?”
My fingers pause. “Stop?”
He groans, his fingers gripping my sides underneath my dress. “Maybe . . . slow down?”
But then his mouth is against mine once more, his tongue stroking mine until I swear I see stars in my closed eyelids and hear bells around us. Slow down? Yeah, right. His hands slip under my sundress and up my back until they reach my bra.
Yes, yes, yes, I think. But his fingers still right as they are about to undo the clasp. “Chloe . . .”
He shifts below me, enough to leave no doubt in my mind just how turned on he is. I sink down against his hardness and he closes his eyes and moans quietly. “Less talk,” I whisper against his neck. I’m so tempted to leave another mark, like the one I gave him in Costa Rica. “More action.”
But his hands retreat from my bra until they’re no longer underneath fabric at all.
I sit up. He opens his eyes and stares up at me; they’re glazed—he’s not hiding his desire from me one bit in them.
Except, his hands have stilled. And, I’m not down with that. He wants slow? I’ll give him slow. Slowly, oh so slowly, I lift my dress over my head and toss it on the ground next to us.
Now his hands are moving, up my belly until they skim the bottom of my bra. “You’re killing me here,” he says, voice hoarse. Thank goodness I wore a matching bra and panty set.
I shiver when his hands travel higher, curving around the sides of my breasts. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
He blinks slowly. “You need to stop moving.” When I arch an eyebrow, he says, blushing for the second time tonight, “I’m . . . I’m having a hard time controlling myself right now.”
Don’t control yourself, I want to say. I want to lose myself in this moment, in you. I press down against him again. Gods, he’s so hard, and it feels so good against me.
He laughs under his breath, his hands suddenly gripping my hips, fingers teasing the lacy edges of my panties. “You think I’m joking. I . . . Don’t make me embarrass myself. Please. I’m begging you.”
I lean down and bite his earlobe, which makes him groan quietly. I’m more than okay if he so-called embarrasses himself. Actually, it’d be way sexy and a total turn-on, knowing I can make him come by just kissing him. So I connect my mouth with his once more until I’m nearly delirious with wantneedwant.
His fingers slide slowly into my panties, barely skimming my burning skin. I arch against him, wiggle even, desperate to get the pressure I need. There’s a build-up threatening to disintegrate my body, which is crazy, because we’re barely doing much more than kissing and touching, and he’s still dressed, and I’ve still got my bra and panties on, and—
Wait. He’s stopped again.
“You’re the one killing me,” I whisper in his mouth.
He groans again when I slowly, purposely twist my hips, and then his tongue is back in my mouth, tracing mine. Gods, kissing this man is so damn addictive. So are his quiet groans that let me know he’s getting close. I continue gyrating small circles against him, reveling in these sounds and the way his kisses deepen.
Finally, finally, he unclasps my bra and slides the purple silk and lace off my shoulders. Cool ocean air hits my breasts, but with the way he’s looking at me, there’s no part of my body that isn’t on fire. “Gorgeous,” he whispers, and it sounds like both a curse and a prayer coming off his lips.
I retaliate by removing his shirt just as slowly as he removed my bra. He called me gorgeous, but in all honestly, the man whom I’m touching right now is that and more.
I can only hope that the crew stays below, since the moan that comes out of me when his mouth closes around my breast is ridiculously loud. I’m not embarrassed, though. How could I be? Not with him, not in this moment. My fingers dig into his hair, and the tension inside me builds-up so strongly that I know I’m going to lose control and explode any moment. Screw trying to get him to come through just kissing. We can experiment with that one later. I need him in me right now. I want to feel this, I want us to be one when it happens.
My hands are back on his shorts, palming his need until his head drops back. Gods, he’s so beautiful when he’s like this, totally taken over by what he feels for me. It’s one of the best rushes in the worlds. What he makes me feel is beautiful. This is beauti—
A gasp, followed by a hoarse, “Wait.”
—ful, and . . . what? Again? Is he seriously trying to torture me?
But when I open my eyes and look down at him, I know right away something is wrong. Kellan’s breathing hard, eyes are closed so tight he looks like he’s in pain.
Which, of course, makes me pull up again. Kellan’s hands reach out and clamp down around my waist, effectively stopping me from moving any further.
I don’t know what he wants. Me closer? Further? Faster? Slower?
“I just . . .” He’s still gasping. “I’m having a lot of trouble thinking about this logically right now.”
Forget logic. I finally manage to unbutton his pants, yet just as my hand goes to stroke him, his eyes open. And I’m nearly bowled over by the amount of ache in them. It’s like a bucket of ice water, forcing me to be the one to freeze.
“I don’t want you . . . to do anything you’re going to . . .”
I hunt for my voice to ask, “Going to?” after he falls silent for too long.
His voice is barely a whisper. “Regret.”
I choke out, “Are you saying you’d regret having sex with me?”
His eyes widen dramatically. “No! I absolutely did not say that.”
“What are you saying then?” Goddamn him for being so logical at a moment like this. I’m not, though. I’m completely irrational and know it. “Is that one of your lines, Kellan? Is it because I’m . . .” Hysterical Chloe, coming right up. “Not as desirable as your other girls? Like Sophie?”
I didn’t think it possible, but his eyes widen even further. “What?”
I jerk out of his grip and sit up. “Am I to understand that you have no scruples when it comes to having sex with other women but somehow or other, you . . . you . . .”
“Wait,” he says, reaching out for me again. But I evade, instead grabbing my bra, fortunately dangling nearby off the chair arm. “You’re misunderstanding—”
I yank the bra on and scramble out of the chair to find my dress. I feel so incredibly stupid. “You could’ve fooled me.”
He’s out of the chair, too, his loose shorts falling down, still so hard he must be in physical pain. “Chloe—”
I’m perilously close to crying as I tug the dress over my head. “Why is it so easy to be with everyone but me?”
Shorts now partially buttoned, he clamps a hand over my mouth. “You need to listen to me without talking, okay? Please, just . . . just let me explain.” I nod and his hand lowers. “Look. If you somehow think what I’m trying to say to you is that I don’t want to make love to you, then you’re horribly mistaken. I do, desperately so. I dream about it every night. I’m not ashamed to admit I fantasize about it all the time, even when I shouldn’t be. Like at work. And class. And when I’m out with friends. And when you’re with your goddamn fiancé. I love you. I adore you. Being with you is everything to me. I want you so much right now that I am this close,” he holds up two fingers, barely spaced apart, “to throwing everything we’ve worked hard to build away. But Chloe, when it comes to you, I have to think about more than just my urges and wants. I have to think about what’s best for you.”
“You think . . . that us . . . not doing anything is best for me?”
“Yes.” His forehead drops against mine. More quietly, “You’re going to marry my brother.”
Reality slaps me straight in the face. Oh. My. Gods. What just happened here? I almost—I almost—we almost had sex.
“If the situation were reversed,” he continues, “and it were me you were marrying, then I would take extreme exception knowing you’d made love to him first. Or at all. Scratch that. I’d go insane knowing it. I’d probably kill him over it.”
Is my virginity so obvious? My cheeks blaze. “And you don’t think that he and I . . .?”
“He can block lots of things from me, but if you two were to have sex, he wouldn’t be able to block it fast enough. Actually, I know that one for sure.”
I hate to ask it, but I do. “What do you mean?”
“Because it’s happened before. I know, well, I’m assuming you haven’t actually . . .” He rubs at his forehead. “But, I know other things have happened. Like all of the . . .” He clears his throat. “Like whenever you give him an orgasm. It’s too much for him to hide immediately.”
I. Can’t. Even.
“Let’s just say that when he’s completely overcome physically, blocking me is the furthest thing from his mind, even though afterwards, he kicks himself for not being able to do so. And it’d be the same for me, I have no doubt.”
All of the lust consuming me just minutes before is gone without a trace. “But . . . I thought? That you two automatically blocked that sort of . . .?”
“We normally do. If it’s anyone other than you, yes. Another one of those Connection things, I guess.”
Something comes to me. I whisper, “What about when we merge?”
“No.” His fingers against my cheek are gentle and reassuring. “I don’t know why, but that one never comes through. Maybe because it’s part of our souls that’s being affected, as opposed to our bodies. I don’t know. Just . . . don’t worry about that one.”
I can barely speak now, but not for the same reasons as earlier. “But . . . you’ve . . . you’ve known that he and I . . .?” The pain in his eyes is a kick to my gut. I have to look away. “So, um . . . you think he knows about . . . this . . .?”
“No.” He winces slightly. “I’ve made sure I’ve blocked it. But that’s why I had to stop, because I was about to completely lose control in more ways than one.” He cups my cheek. “I’m going to be honest. So much of me wants to say fuck it, and make love to you until you can’t speak or think, until you’re mine and no one else’s, but, C . . . I’m selfish. If we make love, it’s going to be because you picked me. I told you before. I want you to want us. Even more, I want you to be sure of it. I refuse to accept anything else.”
