True Love Page 18

  Then she watched his lips curve in a delicious hungry grin when he saw that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She released a trembling sigh when he reached out and filled his palms with her breasts, kneading her flesh with measured caresses. She tilted her head back to look at him and saw the strain of desire, the tension of keeping control bunching his forehead.

  He moved in closer, leaving her breasts and concentrating on removing her boots and socks and then her jeans. Shayla swallowed the sound she made at the back of her throat with the same ease with which he pulled her jeans down her hips.

  The air surrounding them seemed to thicken. The temperature in the room seemed to simmer. Shayla felt as if she were about to go up in flames when he tossed her jeans aside and turned his full attention to her flimsy, lacy, bikini panties.

  They were too flimsy, she thought. Then, with a flick of his wrist he ripped them from her body with strong accomplished hands. He then tossed what was left of them aside.

  “I’ll buy you another pair,” he promised hoarsely, coming closer, looming his body over hers to cover her.

  “Yes, you do that,” she murmured mindlessly as sensations spiraled throughout her and took firm root dead center, between her legs, where the heat of Nicholas gently probed just seconds before he entered her, gripping her hips to hold her still.

  “This is what I want. This is what I need,” he whispered as he pushed himself deeper into her.

  “This is what I want. This is what I need,” she repeated, savoring the feel of him inside her. He was holding her body in place, not yet establishing their rhythm, and not yet feeding the fire between them that was raging out of control. His warmth and scent alone were driving her insane. When she thought she couldn’t stand the torture of not moving another minute, her body went into action. With a smooth gracefulness that was the result of endless hours of dance lessons as a child, she arched her body and pushed upward against the cradle of his thighs, demanding that he move.

  “Shayla…” Her name was spoken barely above a whisper when, his hungry mouth hovering over hers, he slipped his tongue through and began moving with the same rhythm his body had begun inside her.

  Shayla didn’t think anything could be better than the last two times they’d made love, but immediately decided she’d thought wrong. Everything about this had her keyed up in earth-shattering ecstasy. Each long strong stroke was possessive, needy, desperate. The sounds coming from deep within his throat with every thrust were raw and urgent.

  Her mouth protested when moments later his mouth left hers. His eyes, open and starkly aroused, stayed on her, staring deeply into hers, daring her to close hers or look away.

  “Come.”

  He uttered that single command at the same time he drove into her with incredible force. She knew at that moment that somehow, someway, without him even realizing it, he was staking his claim on her forever. And, as if her body had to obey his order, she came, and a turbulent climax slammed into her at the same time she felt it slam into him.

  They trembled in each other’s arms. He gave. She took. She gave. He took. The only thoughts consuming their minds were of each other and the timeless essence of their mating. The connection between them was as breathtaking and as powerful as the sensuous rapture that totally consumed them.

  And just as binding.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  When Nicholas asked that question, Shayla picked up another piece of meat with her fork, closed her eyes, tasted, savored, and moaned. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him. “It’s simply delicious. Who taught you how to cook such mouthwatering steaks?”

  “My mother,” Nicholas replied, smiling, as he sat across the kitchen table from Shayla. With her hair tossed about her face she looked wild, fulfilled, and contented. She resembled someone who had been thoroughly made love to in a most passionate and satisfying way. He knew the feeling. At the moment he felt the same way. Instead of putting her clothes back on she had opted to wear his bathrobe. He thought for the umpteenth time that his robe looked a hell of a lot better on her than it did on him. And it certainly didn’t help matters knowing that she didn’t have a stitch of clothing on underneath it.

  “You and your mother are close, aren’t you?”

  Shayla’s question drew his mind back into the conversation. “Yes, extremely close.”

  “What about your brother, Sterling Hamilton? Are you close to him, as well?”

  Nicholas took a sip of his coffee as he thought about her question. “We’re getting there. I’m sure you’ve read it in all the newspapers like everyone else—the intimate details of my mother’s past, how she abandoned Sterling as a child. It’s something he’s now forgiven her for.”

  Shayla nodded. “How did finding out about your mother’s past affect you, Nicholas?”

  Nicholas stared at Shayla for what felt like an eternity as he tussled with deciding just how open he could be with her. He knew she meant more to him than great sex. At that precise moment, he knew that he cared a lot for her.

  “I’m sorry, Nicholas. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Her softly spoken words of apology reeled him back into their conversation. “You’re not prying. You can ask me anything you want.” He reached across the table and captured her hand in his. “Maybe it’s time I talked to someone about it. At the time it was hard to express my innermost thoughts and feelings to anyone, even to Paul.”

  He stared at her for several seconds before speaking again. “My mother didn’t tell me about Sterling until after she’d discovered she had a brain tumor, until she thought it was necessary. She and my father had been all the family I’d had, and she didn’t want me to be alone if anything happened to her. It was only then that she told me I had a brother.”

  Nicholas released her hand and stood. He walked over to the window and looked out, swamped with emotions and feelings he’d never shared with his mother. It was a few moments later when he turned around. “It was a heavy blow to me, Shayla. A part of me initially felt betrayed and disillusioned when I discovered the truth. As a child, I thought I had the perfect mother. She was loving to me, loving to my father, and loving to all who knew her. I had put her on a pedestal. In my eyes, she could do no wrong, and definitely not something as appalling as abandoning a child, giving up full claims and rights to him.”

  He released a deep long sigh and came back to the table and sat down. “But she had, and once I realized my mother was not Saint Angeline, as I’d always assumed, a part of me resented her for it. To this day she doesn’t know about how I felt the day she told me, and the emotions I had to deal with.”

  “How did you handle your feelings of resentment?” Shayla asked, needing to know because of the resentment she felt toward Thomas Jordache.

  “True love overlooks a multitude of faults, and none of us is perfect. At one time or another we’ve all done something we wish we hadn’t. Something else that helped curtail my resentment was the fact she was dying. I loved her deeply, and wanted our last days together to be filled with all the love a child and parent could possibly share.”

  Which is the same thing Thomas Jordache wants for Trent, Shayla thought after hearing Nicholas’s words. “But she lived,” she felt it necessary to point out. “How do you feel about it now?”

  “I feel blessed that Angeline Chenault is my mother, and that things happened the way they did. There was a reason Sterling was raised by his father, and not by my mother. He and his father shared a deep relationship and a very unique bond, just as I did with my own father. Besides, I can’t and I won’t hold my mother responsible for what she did as an immature seventeen-year-old girl. That was then. I appreciate her for being the woman she is now.”

  “And you say Sterling has forgiven her, too?”

  “Yes, which I’m sure wasn’t an easy thing for him to do. He was on his honeymoon when I got word to him that a blood clot on our mother’s brain had burst. When I sent word to him, I didn’t know if he’d even want to
know, but I felt that he had a right. I certainly didn’t expect him to come see her.”

  “But he did?”

  “Yes. Within twenty-four hours of getting my message he flew into Jacksonville. The first time I set eyes on my brother—except on a movie screen—was when he appeared at the hospital. The connection between us that day was automatic and absolute. We knew, even without speaking, that it might be too late to capture that special bond that exists between brothers. But it would be a start if we could at least become friends. And we have. And I want to believe that the brother thing is slowly developing, as well.”

  Shayla nodded. After listening to Nicholas it seemed that more people than she imagined had some sort of skeleton in their closet. She couldn’t help remembering what she had discovered about her own mother and wanted to share that with Nicholas, but she knew that now wasn’t a good time.

  Getting up from the table, she walked around to him. He automatically pushed his chair back and pulled her down into his lap, holding her tightly. For long moments neither of them said anything, and she placed her head against his chest.

  “Do you have any plans for Easter weekend?” Nicholas asked her, breaking into the silence.

  “No. My aunt and I haven’t made any plans, and I doubt we will. She arranged a trip sometime last year to journey to the Holy Land with a group of friends. After Mama died she was going to cancel it, but I wouldn’t let her.”

  Nicholas nodded. “Is your aunt your only relative?”

  Shayla immediately thought of Thomas Jordache and Trent. “Why do you ask?”

  He looked down at her and regarded her with an intensity that made her pulse rate increase. “My mother and I have been invited to Sterling’s place in the mountains for Easter weekend. I know it’s kind of short notice, since Easter is this coming weekend, but I’d like you to come.”

  Shayla looked up at him, her gaze just as intense. “You want me to spend Easter with you?”

  Nicholas smiled. “Yes, with me, my mother, and anyone else Sterling and his wife, Colby, may be inviting.” He smiled down at her enticingly. “So what about it, Shayla? Will you?”

  Shayla took a deep shaky breath to control the emotions she was feeling. He wanted to take her with him, to meet the people who mattered to him. Could that mean that she mattered greatly to him, too? “Oh, Nicholas,” she whispered, loving him so much. “I’d love to go. You’ve made me feel special just by inviting me.”

  To prove her sincerity, she smoothed her soft fingers across his sensuous mouth and leaned in closer to kiss him, displaying all the love she felt for him in her heart.

  Nicholas fumbled with the belt at Shayla’s waist and untied it as she continued to lavish his mouth with smoldering kisses potent enough to make his insides turn to jelly. Deciding that two could participate, he opened the robe and let his fingers trail down the curve of her breast, then move lower, and then lower still.

  “Want more?” he asked in a forced whisper after she broke off the kiss and collapsed weakly against him. He felt her entire body shudder from the impact of his caresses. He stood with her in his arms.

  “More?” he asked again as he stared down into her flushed features.

  “Yes, more,” she answered with a long sigh that caught in her throat. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her back into his bedroom.

  The last thing Brenna St. James expected to see when she walked into the dining room for breakfast the next morning was Trent Jordache eating alone. Her lips curved into a smile as she tipped her sunglasses, thinking that the brother was pretty good on the eyes.

  She sighed deeply, knowing she needed to get the apology out of the way, and began walking toward him. Before she got halfway, he lifted his gaze and met hers, as if he’d sensed her approach. Sheer panic invaded her, but intense feminine pride kept her walking. The eyes looking at her were dark and all-consuming, and for a brief moment their intensity made her knees go wobbly and a tightness settle in the pit of her stomach.

  Go on, she thought. He’s just a man. But, oh, what a man he is, she couldn’t help but add when he stood. The closer she got to him the more all five of her senses came alive. And then a sixth sense suddenly came out of nowhere when his mouth curled into a mirthless smile—a sense that warned her that he wasn’t going to make her apology an easy one.

  She came to a halt next to his table. “Mr. Jordache.”

  “Ms. St. James.”

  Brenna lifted an eyebrow, wondering how he knew her name. She had not given it to him last night.

  “Was there something you wanted, Ms. St. James?”

  Brenna’s head whirled with his question. She hadn’t noticed last night just how deep, rich, and sexy his voice was. She took a deep breath before saying, “Mr. Jordache, I want to apologize for my behavior last night. I was rude.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  She frowned. He didn’t have to be so quick to agree with her, and she told him so.

  “Why shouldn’t I agree? I didn’t deserve getting sliced into a zillion pieces with your razor-sharp tongue.”

  When he said the word tongue, Brenna’s gaze latched on to his as he casually moistened his top lip with the tip of it. She swallowed, feeling hopelessly ill at ease under the intense dark gaze. “I’m apologizing. That’s the best I can do,” she finally said.

  Trent cocked his brow. “I don’t think so. What you can do is make it up to me by joining me for breakfast.”

  Brenna’s gaze dropped to his plate. “You’re almost finished.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, with the first round. I was about to go for seconds.” He looked at her intently. “So what about it, Ms. St. James? Will you join me for breakfast, or do you prefer eating alone again?”

  Brenna couldn’t help smiling. Trent Jordache was smooth, but in a tolerant sort of way. “Yes, I’ll join you, but only if you call me Brenna.”

  He extended his hand to her, returning her smile. “And I’m Trenton, but I prefer being called Trent.”

  “Care to tell me what had you on the defensive last night?”

  Brenna lifted her head and stared at Trent for a moment before answering. They had finished a rather quiet breakfast and now sat drinking coffee and enjoying the ocean and its breeze.

  After she told him, Trent frowned. As one of the owners of the ship, he didn’t like the idea that one of his passengers had been harassed. Further, he didn’t like it that the passenger had been Brenna. But he could see how any man would want to hit on her. She was a beautiful woman. “Do you think you would recognize those two men if you saw them again?”

  Brenna shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. Really, it’s no big deal. It just annoys me how some men react whenever they see a woman alone. Even while modeling—”

  “You’re a model?”

  “I used to be.”

  Trent nodded, really not surprised. He’d noticed her walk that first day and thought that about her when she’d been walking along the deck. “Are you no longer in the business?”

  “Only as a coordinator. I travel most of the time, going from city to city, putting on shows.”

  “When you were a model men used to hit on you a lot?”

  “Yes. Some men think models are all body and no brains, and that’s not true. I have a bachelor’s degree in history from Grambling and a master’s in African studies from Clark University in Atlanta.” She sighed disgustedly. “It annoys me that sex is the number one thing on most men’s minds.”

  Trent tilted his head and studied her. He smiled. “You have something against sex?” he asked teasingly.

  Brenna’s brows knitted, wondering how they had gotten on this subject, which was a pet peeve of hers. “Yes, I have something against it, if it’s the only thing holding a relationship together. There should be more.”

  Trent’s eyes stayed on hers. “Like marriage?”

  “Or a firm commitment.”

  “Like an engagement?”

  Brenna nodded. “That
’ll work.”

  Maybe for you, but not for me, Trent thought. He’d been there, done that, and didn’t plan to ever go that way again. Luckily he had discovered his fiancée’s true colors before the wedding. She had liked the idea of getting her hands on his money more than she had liked the idea of him getting his hands on her. At first he just assumed she’d had old-fashioned ideas, not wanting to sleep with a man before marriage, and he’d accepted her holding out until the wedding. But he’d soon discovered she’d only been manipulative and had used withholding sex as a means to get him to the altar. In the end, when push came to shove, he decided he wasn’t that hard up and could do without sex—at least from her. After that folly he had made himself a promise never to take the plunge without first testing the waters. In other words, he did not intend to commit himself to a woman he hadn’t slept with first.

  “Most men don’t like ultimatums,” he finally said.

  Brenna arched an elegant brow. “Then it’s a good thing most women aren’t willing to settle on most men. They want that special man, a one-of-a-kind man who will love, honor, and cherish them. With that type of man, a commitment comes easily.”

  Trent lifted the cup of coffee to his lips and took a sip, deciding it would be best to change the subject. “How about if we take a stroll around the ship to walk off breakfast?”

  Brenna smiled. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  “So, what brought you on this cruise?” Brenna asked as she slipped her sunglasses back on, needing protection against the brilliant sun as they walked along the deck.

  “A bit of relaxation, and business.” Trent decided he didn’t know her well enough to tell her that he was one of the owners of the ship. That kind of information would put dollar signs in some women’s eyes. “What about you?”

  “The cruise was a birthday present from my best friend and her husband. They’ll become parents later this month, and I’ll be a godmother. Imagine that.”

  Trent shrugged. He couldn’t imagine it. Growing up with just his father, he’d reached fourteen before he had discovered that his mother, who had died at his birth, had had a brother. His father had never told him about his uncle, Paul, because of the animosity between the two men. As a child he’d been sent to private schools up north, to keep them separated.