Forgotten Sea

He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers.

*

*

*

Lara woke, the warmth on her lips seducing her into opening her eyes. 162

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Iestyn.

The shock of connection caught her unprepared.

Sunstreaked hair, sun-bronzed skin, sun god face.

Something hot and liquid gleamed in his eyes and pooled deep inside her. The tug of need left her dizzy, dazzled, and uncertain.

Her face flushed.

“What can I do for you this morning?” he asked with easy warmth.

She had no idea how to respond.

Last night she’d talked him—talked herself—into having sex. She’d told him she wanted to. She’d told herself it would be enough. But his question this morning made her feel more needy than needed, unsure of her moves and his motives. “What can I do for you?”

What was she supposed to say? Rock my world? Tell me you want me? Say that you love me?

Her pulse jumped. No.

She drew an unsteady breath. “Not a thing,” she said cool y.

His eyes narrowed. For a moment she waited, her heart beating wildly, for him to . . . What? Take her back in his arms to that safe place in the heart of the storm, that place where she could fly.

“Fine.” He dropped a hard, brief kiss on her mouth. “I’l grab a shower, then.”

Naked, he rol ed away from her and strol ed into the bathroom.

She refused to acknowledge her sinking feeling as disappointment. She’d had a lover. She’d even had an orgasm before. Sort of.

Sex was not that big a deal.

A memory of Iestyn’s glinting eyes came back and stole her breath. “It is if you do it right.”

Wel .

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Maybe.

She listened to the sound of running water from the bathroom. Last night in the dark, she’d felt safe with him, safe and solid and right. Relaxed enough to let go, grounded enough to fly.

Of course, it was possible he hadn’t felt the same. In the clear light of morning, she recognized that safe sex was an oxymoron. Sex was never safe. There was always a risk of being hurt physical y or emotional y, the danger of disease.

Pregnancy.

Rejection.

The shower hissed. A cold finger traced down her spine.

Iestyn hadn’t hurt her. He’d taken care to wear a condom both times. He’d satisfied her sexual y beyond her wildest dreams. Twice.

But his consideration had only put her at greater risk.

She was in real danger now of losing her perspective.

Her chest squeezed. Or her heart.

A tap creaked. Iestyn swore.

Lara got out of bed, tugging her T-shirt down her thighs.

She felt better prepared to deal with an annoyed male than a playful one.

She stopped in the bathroom door, momentarily transfixed by the sight of his very bare, very fine ass as he bent over the tub. “What’s the problem?”

He glanced over his shoulder. She thought his gaze lingered on her legs before he said, “Something’s wrong with the water temperature.”

“It’s an old motel,” she pointed out reasonably, trying to ignore her dry-mouthed response to that look. To al that warm male flesh a few feet away. “Maybe you need to let the water run to get hot.”

His brows pul ed together. “That’s what I thought. But 16 4

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when I turn on the tap . . .” He suited his action to his words, and a flood of scalding water burst from the faucet.

Steam boiled to the ceiling.