Reckless in Love by Bella Andre
Sebastian had just failed Charlie, failed her mother. Even with a billion dollars, he couldn't fix this, couldn't make things better for Francine.
Yet--amazingly--Charlie loved him anyway.
No one had ever loved him for his failures and it left him speechless. All he could do was follow the woman of his dreams out of the nursing home, her words playing like a musical refrain in his head.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
He wanted to grab Charlie, ask her if she really meant it. Ask her how she could love him when he hadn't come through for her mother. But with Francine watching them, a knowing smile on her face, he simply stowed her belongings in the spacious trunk of his luxury vehicle and helped her into the front seat like a queen.
Once they arrived at Magnolia Gardens, she oohed and aahed over the front entry, the carpeted lobby lined with cushioned chairs, the lounge with sofas, card tables, and two big-screen TVs for movie nights, the dining room with white tablecloths and colored cloth napkins. "It's just like a real restaurant," Francine enthused.
Sebastian barely noticed the details at first, given that his entire world had just shifted on its axis with three little words. Momentous words. Unbelievable words. When he finally focused on Francine's new nursing home, he had to admit it was far better than Shady Lane. Magnolia Gardens was more like a large hotel complex than a nursing home. But it still wasn't the Ritz. Francine didn't seem to mind at all, however. She gasped at the beautiful flowers in the gardens and was near tears at the bouquet of roses he'd sent to her room.
"You are such a dear boy, Sebastian."
Her living room featured a postage-stamp sized flat-panel TV and utilitarian furniture. The chairs seemed comfortable enough, though still institutional. French doors opened onto a balcony with a small table and a plastic chair.
"I'll bring you a nice new comforter for the bed, Mom. Something with a flower print." Charlie unpacked the porcelain cups and plates, stowing them in a cabinet over a counter with a wet-bar sized sink and a dorm-room fridge. "And we'll get an electric kettle for your tea."
Every time Charlie spoke, he could hear her saying it again. The very best thing anyone had ever said to him. I love you. And also, in many ways, the most unbelievable. It would be one thing if she'd said it when he'd landed her a new commission. But to say the words after he'd come up with nothing but blanks for her mother?
Belatedly realizing that Francine was trying to sit in the chair, he hurried to help her into it. "Oh my. This is so wonderful." She picked up a card that said they had free Wi-Fi for the residents and shook her head. "I'm overwhelmed."
Yet Sebastian still wanted more for her. So much more.
"Are you going to stay for dinner?" she asked brightly.
"I would love to." He wanted to see if the food was up to snuff. If it wasn't, he'd have to consider how to break it to Charlie.
After her meager belongings had been put away, they headed to the dining room. Francine stared goggle-eyed at the posted dining menu as though she'd never had a choice between grilled tilapia and Irish stew before. They parked her walker outside the dining room in a long line of wheeled conveyances, and Sebastian ushered her in on his arm. At the buffet, Charlie put a little of everything on Francine's plate. In addition to hot food in warming trays, the salad bar sported an impressive array of cut vegetables, and along the back wall, various desserts decorated the countertop. When Charlie wasn't visiting, a waiter would assemble Francine's meal for her.
"If you don't feel like eating the buffet," Charlie said once she returned to the table, "you can order off this standard menu." She held up a small display stand. "Fish and chips. Crab cakes. Grilled ham and cheese. Hamburger. Garden burger. And steamed broccoli."
"Oh, I love broccoli." Francine daintily attacked the Irish stew. "Mmm. Very good."
It wasn't filet mignon. It wasn't even gourmet. But thankfully, it wasn't plastic cafeteria food either.
"Isn't this marvelous, Sebastian?"
Francine damn near glowed, and it really hit home what her life had been like at Shady Lane. Both Francine and Charlie were so delighted and excited. Was he jaded by five-star hotels and first-rate service? Or was he just trying to make up for not being able to cure Francine of her illness?
Under the table, he put his hand on Charlie's thigh. Though he'd tried to hold back while they were with Francine--he didn't want the dear lady to think he was always pawing her daughter--he had to touch Charlie, craving the connection, brief as it was. She laid her fingers over his, keeping him close for a moment. Nowhere near long enough. Forever wouldn't be long enough.
They were on to dessert when Francine asked Charlie, "How are your class plans coming together for the fall? Any new, exciting projects on tap?"
Charlie suddenly became engrossed in stirring her coffee. But he was glad Francine had asked. He'd been wondering the same thing. Charlie hadn't mentioned her classes in a while. Was she planning to teach again this fall or take a quarter off while she worked on new commissions? The last thing he wanted was for her to wear herself down.
"I've been so busy with the chariot and horses that I haven't really had time to think much about my teaching schedule."
Francine turned her bright gaze to Sebastian. "I've sat in on her classes several times and she's such a gifted teacher. She always describes what her students need to do in such clear terms that even I was tempted to pick up a welding torch. Her students absolutely love her. But I'm sure you understand that, don't you?"
"Yes." He couldn't take his eyes off Charlie, couldn't even begin to hide what he felt for her. "She's very easy to love."
Francine beamed at the two of them while Charlie flushed at the compliments. "She certainly is."
A short while later, they said their good-byes, leaving Francine sitting happily in the lounge meeting other residents and already making new friends. Sebastian and Charlie were still in the middle of the parking lot when he crowded her up against a parked car, cupped her face in his hands, and bent to take her mouth.
She tasted sweet and fresh and perfect. More perfect than anything he'd ever known, anything he'd ever dreamed of. His heart beat in a wild frenzy of need--and love. Endless, boundless love. Her lips parted beneath his on a cry of pleasure, then his gentle kiss turned savage. Possessive. So damned erotic that they could have started a fire right there in public.
When he finally let her up for air, he needed her to know how he felt. "I love you, Charlie Ballard."
"I know you do. I could hear you saying the words when you were holding my mother's hand, telling her all you wanted to do was help her." Her eyes were slightly dilated as she looked up at him, her lips still gorgeously damp from his tongue. "And I could also hear it in your kiss."
"Then get ready to hear me say it all night long," he murmured before he took her mouth again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Three little words. They changed everything. Because Charlie had said them. To him.
Sebastian had wanted her right there against the door of the car, was already half crazy with desire and need. Those words. Her kiss.
He was head over heels.
The moment he got her home, he scooped her up in his arms.
She laughed. Her sexy, throaty laughter always turned up the heat inside him. "What are you doing, you crazy man?"
"Crazy for you." He carried her off to his bedroom, her body soft, warm, and yielding against his.
He needed her lips, now, her mouth under his. Her kiss seared him, burning straight to his heart. In the bedroom, he let her feet slip to the carpet as he buried his fingers in her lush curves and steeped his senses in her taste.
"Charlie," he whispered. "I need you." He needed her skin branding his flesh, her taste on his lips, her scent filling his head.
"I'm right here," she promised.
Desperate to get to her skin, he tugged on her blouse and the buttons seemed to pop off. "Too many clothes," he growled.
"T
He went wild. Crazy. Totally reckless. The cloth tore, fabric flew across the room, hitting a wall, falling into a corner. Until he could worship her gorgeous, naked skin.
This was what he wanted--to worship her, to give her everything, to be the man who made all her dreams come true.
She wore the laciest of lingerie, her bra almost see-through, her panties a mere wisp. And she stole his breath. He couldn't move. He could only trace her body with his gaze, the sweet pearls of her nipples dusky through the lace, the strong muscles of her arms that could hold him so tightly, the smooth belly he'd kissed.
"You are so beautiful." He felt like a caveman kneeling before a princess.
And she'd said she was his. I love you. The beautiful princess was all his. He would never believe it, never truly accept it. He was terrified he'd wake up and find her gone. Terrified he'd screw up with her one too many times. And yet she'd said she loved him right after his biggest failure. She'd forgiven him. She was so damned unique and special.
"You have too many clothes on," she whispered. And with seductive sweeps of her hand, she unbuttoned his shirt, his pants. The fleeting touch of her fingers was electric. She stripped him down and set his skin on fire, made his body burn for her.
Saturday at the Regent had been momentous, but this was beyond anything. This was Charlie loving him.
"Come here." Taking his hand, she backed up to the bed, pulling him with her.
The balcony doors were open, the evening breeze fluttering like fingers through her hair. Her skin was bathed in the last golden rays of the sun before it fell behind the distant coastal mountains, and her hair was lit by fire, a red-gold halo.
She pushed him down on the cool sheets. Moments before, he'd been desperate with need, dying to be inside her. Now he craved her slow seduction.
"You're the beautiful one." Her lips curved in a sensuous smile. She climbed on top of him, straddling him, the feel of her so sweet, so good, so hot that his body rose, tensed, caressed her. His hands on her hips, he held her tightly to him, exulting in the slip-slide of their bodies. She was so soft, so wet already, and he was so hard, he could have rolled her over and taken everything right now.
The fever in his blood begged for it.
But Charlie bit her lip and smiled. She rocked, driving him mad, then slowly she sidled down his body, leaning to kiss her way over his chest. "Not so fast," she said, licking his nipple, then biting it lightly. "I've got plans before that." She slipped a hand between them, wrapped him in her palm, and squeezed until he groaned.
"Do you like that?"
"Yes." He loved everything she did, loved that she dressed herself up like a princess, held court with her subjects, then brought them all, including him, to their knees. Yet in his bed, she was also the sexy, gorgeous, seductive tomboy, her hands all over him, driving him crazy.
"I want to taste you again," she whispered.
He was seduced. Completely. In love. Irrevocably. There was only Charlie. There would only ever be Charlie. She was his gift. How or why he deserved her, he had no clue. But he would give her anything she wanted.
"Taste me," he begged.
She drove him wild with licks and kisses before she took all of him, so deeply that his body arched and he threw his head back against the mattress, crying out her name.
"Charlie." Always Charlie. Only Charlie. Forever Charlie. There'd never been a woman like her, and there would never be another.
She took his pleasure, took the thick growl in his throat, pushed him higher with her mouth, her lips, her tongue, her hands. She set his blood on fire, a conflagration burning through his veins.
"I need you. Inside you. Please. Love. I love you." The words fell from his lips. He had no control.
The effort was Herculean, but he pulled her up, rolled with her, flattened her to his bed, all her curves a perfect match for his, her skin a fiery brand against his. He held her face framed in his hands for one long moment, her eyes pulling him into their depths, as if he were a part of her and she him.
"I love you." The words were just a breath on her lips and yet they reached up inside him all over again. This beautiful, incredible woman loved him.
He slipped his hand down between the softness of her thighs and she moaned, low and sweet. Her pleasure was all that existed. Her breath fanned his cheek, her gasps and her little moans fueling him. He found every hollow, every sensitive spot, learned her curves inside and out, until finally she cried his name. Her body shivered and shimmied, then she wrapped him tightly with her limbs, riding out her storm.
A heartbeat later he had on protection and entered her before she came out the other side. "God, I love you." His voice was hoarse, his words harsh with his emotion.
One arm around his shoulder, she shoved a hand into his hair and pulled his head down. She kissed him with her heart, with her soul, her cheeks wet with her pleasure.
Then she let him go, just to breathe, to whisper his name. And one little demand. "Don't stop. Don't ever stop."
She drew him in, fit him as though her body had been tailored for him, only him. He'd wanted to keep it slow, drive her crazy with short, sweet strokes over all her special, sensitive places. But with Charlie, there was no holding back.
"Jesus." He moaned into the sweet, hot pleasure of her body around him. "I love you."
He could never say it enough, never hear it enough.
She said his name, and he went deep and high inside her. Harder, faster, deeper, until there was just her skin against his, her sweet and sexy scent floating in the air around him, her luscious taste on his lips, her body convulsing around him, pushing him to the edge right along with her.
All his emotions broke free. All his pleasure. All his love as he tumbled with her right into the eye of the hurricane. "I love you, Charlie. I've never loved anyone the way I love you. Never knew I could love like this."
"I did." Her whispered words came on a gasp of pleasure a beat before bliss took them over completely. "I knew."
*
The full moon shining through the balcony doors lit up the room, and a cool wind blew in off the Bay, but Charlie was wrapped in the sweet, warm cocoon of Sebastian's arms in the king-sized bed. She loved curling up next to him, loved falling asleep to the sound of his breathing, loved waking to the feel of his hands doing delicious things to her.
Loved him.
And he loved her too.
Sharing those words had been earth-shattering, making her dream of a different future than she'd ever imagined for herself. Especially with the way he'd been so kind to her mother today. Her heart was still touched each time she remembered him at her mother's feet, holding her hands, his emotion spilling over.
She didn't want to move. She wanted to drench herself in his scent, snuggle into all his hard muscles, and sleep beneath the comforting weight of his arm over her. But she hadn't been in her workshop since the morning of the gala, hadn't welded a single horse's joint in three days. If she stayed in Sebastian's house and his bed, she'd never finish anything.
She knew she should go. Work. At least think about work. Or be independent in some way about something. But, oh, it was difficult to even think of leaving Sebastian's bed, to willingly give up all the pleasure that was only a kiss, only a caress away.
As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, he stirred, then began to slowly slide his hand over her stomach. So slowly that by the time he reached the vee between her legs, she was arching into his touch.
"I know I've taken you too many times already--"
She rolled to face him, her naked breasts pressed against his broad chest. "There could never be too many times."
He kissed her hard and hot, devouring her. "Never," he echoed against her mouth. "I'll never be able to get enough of you."
She wound her arms around his neck and rubbed sinuously against him. "You said you like it when I'm greedy, and right now, I want more." More and more. Sebastian was right--there would neve
He pulled her on top, and she nuzzled his chest as he slid his hand between them.
"I love the way you do that," she said against his salty skin and the light fur of hair.
"What?" he murmured against her ear.
"The way you like to touch me. Always kissing me, putting your hands on me." She sighed out her pleasure, gently rocking on him. "Making me crazy."
"I love the silk of your hair against my skin." Her hair was a mess, its tendrils all over him. And she loved that he loved it. "What do you want?" he whispered.
"You." She rolled her face against his chest, her hips creating a rhythm against his hand. "Now," she added, her voice a breathy plea.
He donned protection, then rolled with her almost lazily until they were wrapped around each other in the most beautiful way possible. "Mmm." It was all she could manage.
He was slow and sweet, building the sensations, his body surrounding her, the covers warm against the chill of the night wind off the Bay. She could almost be dreaming, almost be asleep, her eyes fluttering their pleasure beneath heavy lids. The explosion when it came was pure bliss as they shuddered together, the pulse of their pleasure simultaneous.
And then she fell down into something like sleep, holding him inside a few moments longer. She would always want and need a few moments more, she thought dreamily. She would always want more of him...
*
An idea for the horses came to Charlie in the middle of the night. One so vivid that it woke her up.
She used to make the mistake of thinking she'd remember her middle-of-the-night thoughts, but come morning they were always lost to the darkness. Unless she wrote them down.
It had never been this difficult to get out of bed at three a.m. before. Given that she was sleeping with the most gorgeous man on the planet, curled in his strong arms, it was no wonder she hadn't been able to rouse herself to do some work earlier. No one would have been able to resist Sebastian's touch, his kisses.
Fully awake now--and he was dead asleep this time--she took care to slip soundlessly from the bed. She had no idea where he'd tossed any of her clothing in their mad rush to tumble into his bed earlier that evening, so she pulled his shirt over her bare skin. It smelled mouthwateringly of him, all male, all sexy, yummy... Stop dreaming, Charlie. She needed paper, a pencil. Not seeing any, she followed the moonlit path across the thick Persian rug to a small study. Stepping inside, she found a chair and a side table stacked with books and a bunch of sketchbooks.