Led into Temptation Page 11

Dane stared at her. What in the world could Naomi Brightman want to confess to him?

  9

  “YOU WANT ME TO HEAR your confession?”

  “Yes.” She glanced around. “It’s very private here. I thought it would be the perfect place.”

  The wind had picked up enough to push her hair across her face. She tucked the loose strands behind her ear, wishing she could settle her nerves just as easily. “Maybe we could find a more sheltered place to sit.”

  Leading the way, she chose a wide flat rock. Its position behind a boulder gave them some protection from the breeze blowing in off the water. They sat next to each other, not touching, and Naomi folded her hands in her lap in the same way she had many times when she’d gone to confession. But this time she clasped them together to keep them from trembling. Then she turned slightly to face him.

  “Anything I tell you is protected by the seal of confession, right?”

  “Yes.” His gaze searched her face. “Does this have something to do with Michael Davenport?”

  It was concern she read in his face, and that was so not what she wanted to see. “This has to do with me.” She’d had quite enough of Michael influencing her life. She was never going back to the old Naomi who would let herself be used as a pawn. Or who would take no or “we can’t” for an answer.

  “Go ahead then,” Dane said.

  Naomi drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m attracted to you. I was from the first moment I saw you.” When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. “And that’s just for starters, Father. I also know that you’re attracted to me. Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  Just that one word set her pulse pounding. But even if he hadn’t admitted it out loud, the concern in his eyes had changed to something hotter and much more reckless.

  “But—” he began.

  She held up her hand again. “I’m not finished with my confession. If you interrupt me, I might not get it all out.”

  This time he merely nodded his head.

  “I was attracted to you when I saw you standing in the courtyard. Then I saw the Roman collar. Discovering that you were a priest—for most women that should have been the end of it. He’s a priest. Vow of celibacy. Hands off.”

  He hadn’t moved. Neither of them had since they’d sat down. But his eyes had grown even darker, and tension radiated off him in waves.

  Her heart was pounding so loud that she could hear it above the noise of the surf. “When I learned you were a priest, I only wanted you more.” She unfolded her hands long enough to wave one of them. “You’re going to say it has to do with the whole forbidden-fruit thing. But it’s more than that.”

  Then she told him everything about her crush on Father Bouchard and the fantasies she’d created in her mind and in her diaries.

  When she finished, he said, “Why have you told me all this, Naomi? If you want absolution, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Lifting her chin, she locked her gaze on his. “I’ve certainly entertained some very impure thoughts.”

  “You haven’t acted on them.”

  “Not yet.” She rose, paced a few steps away, then turned to walk back. “I want to act on them. I’m not fourteen anymore. And I’m not willing to relegate what I’m feeling for you to the world of fantasy. I want to make love with you.”

  There. She’d said it. When he opened his mouth, fear and panic bubbled up inside of her. He couldn’t say no. She simply wasn’t going to let him. “Hear me out.”

  She felt as if she were in court arguing the most important case of her career. Except she was winging it. “I’m improvising here. Usually I have a plan that I’ve worked on for days. I always know exactly what to do next. With you it’s different.” She strode toward him. “I know it’s a bad thing I’m asking you to do. I know I’m trying to tempt you into sin. But I’m tired of being a role model. Fed up with being someone’s pawn.”

  Realizing that she was on the brink of babbling again, she pulled herself back. “This is the first thing I want to do for myself. So if lightning doesn’t strike me dead, I have a proposition for you. I just want to make love with you once.”

  When she paused, he said nothing. But what she saw in his eyes had her heart leaping and her throat going bone dry. “I can promise you discretion. No one will ever have to know. And there are no strings attached. You can cancel your plans for using Haworth House, leave, and we never have—”

  The rest of her sentence faded when he rose and took one step to close the distance between them.

  “Can I speak now?”

  Panic bubbled up again. This was it. He’d say no, and she’d have to come up with Plan B. And C if need be. She sent up a little plea to Hattie that she’d figure them out. Then she nodded at Dane.

  “You had me at ‘I want to make love to you.’”

  “I did?” Surprise and disbelief led the feelings that flooded her. The confession strategy had worked. Should she have known it would be that easy?

  When he framed her face with his hands, everything else faded in the heated pleasure of his touch, in the anticipation of what was to come. If his fingers hadn’t been holding her up, she would have simply melted into the sand.

  Dane didn’t say anything else for a moment. He was surprised that he’d been as articulate as he had. Any brain cells still in working order had started to click off the instant she’d said that she was attracted to him.

  There was something very powerful about words, and he’d told her nothing less than the truth. Once she’d given voice to the words I want you, he’d known that he wouldn’t leave the beach without having her. The story of her adolescent crush on the French priest had worked on him, too. He’d actually felt a flash of jealousy, and the one coherent thought that had registered in his mind was that if anyone was going to fulfill her fantasy, it was him.

  He traced her lips with the pad of his thumb. “I hope you don’t regret this, Naomi.”

  “I won’t.” She put her hands on his shoulders, rose on her toes. “I hope you don’t, either.”

  He would. But the regrets would come later. For now, he had this time with her. And his only thought was to make it count.

  Her arms were already around him, pulling him closer. “Kiss me.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers. He thought he was prepared. After all, he’d spent a lot of time imagining what it would be like to kiss her. But he found himself in uncharted territory. They were standing well away from the shore, but the instant they were mouth-to-mouth, he could have sworn the sand shifted under his feet. He was certain the sound of the waves grew in volume until it thundered around them.

  Her taste—he couldn’t seem to get enough of it. He’d expected sweetness, and there was a layer of that. But as her tongue tangled with his, he discovered a banquet of other flavors—heat and spice and something darker that lingered just out of reach. He dove deeper, dragging her with him until he was drowning in her.

  Her surrender. He’d lain awake nights dreaming about it, but he hadn’t imagined the intensity of her response, the greedy, avid way her tongue danced with his, seeking, searching, demanding. The way her fingers plunged into his hair or the way she was trying to crawl up his body.

  More.

  Naomi wasn’t sure who said it. But she wanted to scream it as she shoved her hands into his hair. Someone moaned as she dragged him closer. She felt her breasts yield against the hardness of his chest, and a compelling urgency took control of her. This was more than hunger; it bordered on obsession. She wanted nothing but him. Only him.

  A gull screamed overhead. Then suddenly, he grasped her wrists, pulled them from around his neck and stepped back from her.

  Naomi stared at him. When she tried to step forward, she found that his grip on her wrists allowed him to keep her at arm’s length. “Kiss me again.”

  “I will.” He was breathing as hard as she was. “I’m just giving us an intermission. If we’re only going to have this one time toge
ther, I want to make it count.”

  “Count?” Staring at him, still overwhelmed by the heat and the needs he’d aroused, she was having trouble focusing.

  “You told me that you had fantasies about making love to the French priest—Bouchard. I want to know if you had any fantasies about making love to me.”

  Fantasies? All she could think of was that anything, everything she’d imagined was becoming a pale shadow of what he’d just begun to show her.

  “Did you?” he asked.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I thought we could act them out.”

  “Couldn’t we just improvise?”

  His lips curved a little. “We’ll get to that. But first tell me about your fantasy? What did you imagine me doing to you?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What I imagined was you doing me.” Hard, fast, now.

  “We’ll get to that, too. But I want to stretch out the time we have together. Tell me what else you created in your fantasy.”

  His idea was beginning to make sense. Perhaps the synapses in her brain were reconnecting. The one thing that she could agree with was that she did want to spin out the time they had.

  Since it was all they’d ever have.

  “When I was in the dressing room at Discoveries this morning, I thought about stripping for you.”

  He released her wrists, backed up a few steps and sat down on the flat rock ledge. “Why don’t you do that for me?”

  She considered for a moment. Clearly, he had more control than she did. He hadn’t kissed her on their climb down the cliff face, and he’d been able to back off just now. She wouldn’t have objected if he’d just thrown her to the ground and taken her. What would it take to make him lose control?

  She raised her hands, tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ears. Then, keeping her eyes on his, she slowly pulled the string on her halter top. In the confines of the dressing room, she’d played to herself. She hadn’t been able to fully imagine what it would feel like to have a man watching her while she took off her clothes.

  To have Dane MacFarland watching her.

  Slowly, she lowered the red halter top, inch by inch. When she slipped it down to reveal her breasts, the heat of his gaze seared her nipples and she felt them harden in response. Encouraged, she let the top pool at her waist, then raised her hands to cup her breasts and lift them. “What if I told you that I imagined you in the dressing room, touching me like this?”

  “I’d say that my fantasy was running pretty much in line with yours.”

  “How about this?” Knowing that he was watching her every movement, she pinched first one nipple and then the other between her thumb and forefinger. His groan brought more pleasure than the way she was touching herself.

  “You’re more beautiful than I imagined.”

  The words were nearly enough to break her concentration, more than enough to have her fingers trembling as she ran them lightly down her torso to the red shirt at her waist. She tugged it down over the shorts, then with a wiggle let it slide to the sand. Her fingers fumbled with the snap of her shorts.

  “Need some help with those?”

  Meeting his eyes, she shot out a hand. “No. The whole idea of a striptease is that you can watch but you can’t touch.”

  “Those are the rules? Sorry, I haven’t had a lot of experience with strippers.”

  “If you’re such an old movie buff, you must have seen Gypsy.”

  The struggle she was having with her shorts was sorely tempting Dane to put an end to the little fantasy he’d requested.

  “Besides, it was your idea to stretch out the time.”

  She had him there. In fact she had him completely. He hadn’t expected how tantalizing the stripping fantasy would be. Her breasts were so small. He wanted to feel them in the palm of his hands. He wanted very much to touch her as she’d touched herself.

  But she’d captivated him with her fantasy even before that. The whole concept of seducing a priest, with all its illicit overtones of forbidden lust and sin, held a certain appeal. He’d never done any sexual role playing before, but he had to admit that the fact she thought he was a priest and she’d once entertained fantasies about making love to one added an extra element of excitement.

  And this one afternoon of forbidden pleasure was all they would ever have. It had occurred to him while she was giving him her confession that seize the day had never seemed more real to him.

  Once she discovered the truth about him…

  Dane pushed the thought away. If one afternoon was all they would ever have, then he wanted to make the most of it for both their sakes. The piper could be paid later.

  She’d won her battle with the shorts, but as they slid down her legs, Dane’s gaze remained riveted to the swatch of red lace that remained. He hadn’t thought it was possible for him to grow any harder, but he’d been wrong. He found himself in the same precarious position he’d been in that morning when he’d been afraid to make any quick move in the coffee shop.

  And then he’d only had to deal with what it might be like to see her naked. Now she was here. In the flesh. When she hooked her thumbs into the thin red strips that crossed her hips, Dane took a risk by rising and moving toward her.

  “You’re breaking the rules,” she said.

  “Once you take that off, I’m going to be inside you.”

  “Oh.” Her pulse pounded at the hollow of her throat, but her hands stilled. “If that’s the direction your thoughts are headed, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

  Keeping his eyes on hers, Dane first took off the Roman collar, then rid himself of the T-shirt and shorts.

  Her eyes had become riveted to his black briefs. Her hands were at his waistband before he grabbed her wrists.

  But before he trusted himself to move again, he asked the question that needed to be asked. “Speaking of being inside of you, are you protected?”

  “I’m on the pill, and I have condoms in the pocket of my shorts.”

  “Good to know.” He had some, too, but it would be better if he didn’t have to explain why a priest might be Boy Scout prepared.

  Then she met his eyes. “Since my fantasy is over, I’m going to take these panties off now. Then I’m going to take off yours.”

  “Don’t you want to hear about my fantasy?”

  She blinked. “You had a fantasy?”

  “Several. All about you.” He was pretty sure they wouldn’t be his last. He scooped up the shorts, then took her hand and led her over to the boulder he’d been sitting on. “I was in the coffee shop across the street when you selected those items of lingerie out of the display window at Discoveries. Imagining you trying them on fueled my fantasies for quite a while. I’ll show you.”

  Over time, the boulder had been worn glassy smooth by wind and water. He lifted her up on the rock ledge and then stepped up behind her.

  “I imagined joining you in that dressing room.” Turning her so that she was facing the rock, he took her hands and pressed them against the smooth surface. “Keep them there.” Then gripping her hips, he eased her back a foot so that she was leaning forward against the boulder.

  “I’m going to touch you now.”

  The tremor that ran through her had his hand trembling as he trailed his fingers from her nape down the length of her spine. He paused just where the strap of the red lace thong intruded. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since you came out of the hotel wearing that halter top.”

  Her breath hitched. “What about your fantasy about the two of us in the dressing room?”

  “I’ll get to that.” At least he hoped he would. But the way he’d positioned her against the boulder had another tempting fantasy springing into his mind.

  Because he couldn’t help himself, he ran his fingers down her spine again, but this time when he reached the waistband of her thong, he continued on to trace the crease of her buttocks, then slide his fingers between her legs. He stopped only when he reached the entrance to her wet heat.


  Her breath hitched and another tremor ran through her. “Please.” She pushed against his fingers until the tip of one of them slipped into her.

  “Shhhh.” He caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth and clamped down on his control. It would be so easy to put on the condom, push aside that thong and bury himself inside of her. But he’d heard the note of surprise in her voice when he’d admitted to fantasizing about her. And there was more he wanted to show her. He withdrew his hand.

  When she whimpered, he said, “Soon. First, I want you to just feel.”

  Feel? What choice did she have? Her whole body was throbbing with sensations. The image he’d planted in her mind of him standing in that dressing room with her was so erotic. If he hadn’t slipped his hands around her to cup her breasts, she wouldn’t have been able to remain standing.

  “Look down and watch me touch you, Naomi.”

  She hadn’t believed she could get any hotter, but the sight of those large hands rubbing against her nipples and then moving lower and lower down her torso had her wondering why she didn’t just evaporate into steam and blow away.

  When he reached the red lace of the thong, he stopped.

  Disappointment flooded her. “You said you were going to touch me.”

  “Oh, I intend to.” But one hand remained where it was while the other disappeared from her sight. She watched the fingers of the hand she could still see slip beneath the red lace and into her fold to capture her clitoris. Just as quickly the fingers of his other hand were pushing into her heat.

  She shot straight to the brink of a climax. For a moment, he held her there, not moving, not allowing her to move.

  Then using both hands at once, he said, “Come for me, Naomi.”

  She cried out as the climax swept through her with the violence of a riptide, first dragging her over and under in wave after wave of pleasure, then tossing her up and over an airless peak.

  10

  WHEN SHE COULD THINK AGAIN, she discovered that she was straddling his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. He sat in the sand, leaning against the rock ledge they’d both stood on moments ago. Or had it been longer? Their breathing had evened. And she could feel that their heartbeats had slowed.