man. She tried to remember the last time she’d been aroused. A lifetime ago. Before Christie had come into her life.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer still. She could feel his arousal pressing against her belly. Her panties were damp, her nipples hard.
She slipped her hands up to his shoulders and clung to him. He cupped her face, holding her still as he plunged inside her mouth. He imitated the act of love. The power she felt in his quivering muscles made her weak with desire. He pressed kisses to her cheeks, her chin, her jaw. He bit her left earlobe, then rested his face against her neck and breathed her name.
Every part of her was ready for him. Every cell in her body ached for his touch, for the release that would follow. His arousal flexed once against her belly. She moaned and pressed closer.
Parker straightened. He tucked her hair behind her ears. She searched his face but it was too dark to see what he was thinking. The occasional flashes of lightning didn’t provide enough light and the glow of the lamp didn’t reach this far.
“I’m shaking,” he said huskily.
“Me, too.”
“I can’t do this.”
“I know.” She’d always known. He wasn’t for her. He wasn’t the one. He still loved Robin. Stacey confused things. Erin wasn’t ready to claim her turn.
He pressed a quick kiss on her forehead, then left her. She listened to the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. When she was alone, she touched her fingers to her throbbing mouth and told herself it was for the best. Getting involved with him would be silly. This was a temporary situation. At the end of the summer, she would return to her own life. It was enough to know, at least for tonight, he’d wanted her. Because wanting was so much safer than doing.
That’s what Stacey had never learned. Erin knew better. She wasn’t going to be Stacey all over again.
Chapter Nine
Parker quickly climbed the stairs to the second floor and headed for his room. He didn’t want to think about what had just happened. He couldn’t not.
He’d kissed her. More than that, he’d devoured her as if he were a man facing sustenance for the first time in years. Perhaps that
He walked to his window and stared out at the storm. Lightning continued to flash, but it had moved away. Now the glimmering bolts came from a distance. He raised his hand to press it against the pane of glass, then noticed his fingers trembling. His whole body was shaking. Still. The desire threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to go back downstairs, haul her into his arms and pick up where they’d left off. He wanted to love every inch of her body, starting at the bottom, working his way up, only to start over when he reached the top.
His need frightened him as much as the vivid images of what Erin would look like in his bed. And it was Erin he wanted there, not Stacey. God forgive him, not even Robin.
He closed his eyes against the storm and the night, against the tactile sensations still lingering in the memory of his body. Why now? Why with her? In the past five years he’d avoided any kind of emotional relationship. It hadn’t been difficult. After the first year, he’d felt a stirring of some physical need. He’d dated a couple of women, had even had sex with them. But that had been about finding release, not making love. It had been about being naked, not being intimate.
With Erin, he could imagine being both.
Self-loathing and guilt rose in his throat like bile. How could he have done that? How could he have confessed his attraction to her? Of course she had to have known, but she’d been polite and had pretended not to notice. He had to bring it out in the open. She must think he was the biggest jerk she’d ever met. Some role model for Christie.
He ignored the voice that whispered she hadn’t kissed him like a woman who was appalled or disgusted by his confession. She’d gone willingly into his arms. He just wasn’t sure why.
He swore under his breath. The desire had stunned him with its intensity. He hadn’t expected to ever feel it again. He’d wanted to take Erin right there, on the floor. He hadn’t cared about anything but being with her.
He pushed off the windows and walked to the dresser. Robin’s picture was there. He picked it up, moved to the bed and sat down. He stared at the likeness, at the familiar lines of her face, at the shape of her mouth. He forced himself to remember what it had been like when they were together. Then he waited for the pain.
He braced himself against the inevitable longing, against the memories that would crash in around him. He knew that while he had that, he had her.
He closed his eyes, sucked in a breath…and felt only bittersweet sadness. The love was there, the memories. He could recall a thousand different moments with her. He could imagine her smile, the sound of her voice, even a silly joke she’d told. The corner of his mouth turned up as he recalled how she’d insisted he turn his back if he was in the bathroom when she got out of the shower. They could spend an afternoon in bed together, but she wouldn’t let him watch her step out of the shower stall naked.
The memories were good. Intellectually he knew they might even be better than the marriage had been. He didn’t recall the fights or her stubbornness. He almost never remembered the times she’d turned away from his touch because she was tired or not in the mood. Held in his memories, their marriage was forever perfect.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there staring at the photograph. He touched his fingertip to her face, as if he could trace her cheek. Instead of warm skin, he felt only glass. She was gone, and with her, the pain.
Instead of relief, he felt empty, as if a familiar companion had moved on without him. Now what? How did he remember? The sharp edges of hurt had kept him close to her. He loved her; he would always love her. Was that going to be enough? What would become of her if he let her go?
He lay back on the bed and rested the photograph facedown on his chest. Perhaps this is what Robin had wanted all along. After all it was his fault that she was gone. She’d died because of him.
Stacey had died because of him. Because of what he’d said to her. Because he’d let her go without a thought. Did Erin ever think of that? In the blackness of night, did she rail at him for what he’d stolen. Not only her sister, a twin so much like herself that they were nearly halves of the same whole, but he had also stolen her dreams. Whatever Erin had wanted after college had been snatched away by the day-to-day grind of looking after an infant.
He was dangerous to anyone who loved him. That put Christie in danger. He closed his eyes and swore he would die before he would let anything happen to his child. Somehow he would break the curse.
He also couldn’t take a chance on Erin. He couldn’t let her know that she was the first one to get through the barricade he’d built around himself. He couldn’t let her know that she was slowly bringing him back to the land of the feeling. He would have to resist the life she offered and the passion he felt. If he didn’t, she would be at risk, too.
The storm continued to rage for another thirty-six hours. When it was finally done, the sun made a watery appearance over the ocean.
Parker was at his computer when he first noticed a finger of light creeping across his desk. He glanced out the window and saw that the clouds had broken up and nearly blown away. Erin and Christie were in the second-floor library, going through books. Without stopping to consider that it might be best for everyone if he tried harder to stay away from Erin, he saved what he was working on, then left his office and started down the hall.
He paused in the doorway of the library. Books were in tall, teetering piles. Erin sat cross-legged on the floor with Christie curled up next to her.
“What’s that one about, Mommy?” Christie asked, pointing at the book Erin had just picked up from a stack next to her.
“I’m not sure. Let’s see. Hmm, it seems to be about elephants.”
“Lelephants?”
“You’ve seen them in the zoo and on television.”
