Private Affairs. Tori Carrington

IT WAS A PROBLEM for Penelope. A monumental dilemma. Because whereas Palmer seemed glad to be feeling the way he had way back then, she was heartbroken to find herself in a place she never expected to be again.

      So much time had passed …

      Yet it amounted to a little more than a drop in a bucket …

      She tried to think of Barnaby. To hold desperately onto all of the reasons why she shouldn’t let Palmer kiss her. But as he leaned even closer to her, all reason fled, leaving only acute awareness in its wake.

      When his lips finally met hers, a moan years in the making wound up and around her throat, exiting softly. She released his hands and snaked her arms over his shoulders. How could he taste the same? How could his hair still be thick and coarse against her fingers? How could that longing that she hadn’t experienced since he’d left emerge as if he had never disappeared?

      Palmer groaned, his freed hands sliding even further up under her dress. When the back of his fingers skimmed the front of her damp panties, she nearly jumped from the seat.

      “God, I’d forgotten how responsive you were.” He kissed her long and hard. “I could always count on knowing exactly how you felt about me, Penelope. That you wanted me as much as I wanted you.”

      She bit her bottom lip, hating the hot tears that flooded her eyes.

      That’s not true, she wanted to say. If you’d wanted me as much as I’d wanted you, you would never have left.

      But before she could truly consider the weight of her words, he was shifting her weight from the other side of the gazebo to across his lap. Penelope gasped and held onto his shoulders for balance, surprised by the move. Before she could regain her balance both physically and emotionally, he cupped the side of her face, holding her still while he launched a fresh assault on her trembling mouth.

      Having him this close, his heat permeating her every cell, his chest against her side, his lap under her bottom, it was impossible to think about anything beyond her growing need. As his breathing grew more ragged, hers did, too. And her hands seemed to have taken on a life of their own. They tunneled into his hair, dove down his back, exploring the long, hard length, then circled to press against the hard wall of his chest. He felt good. Solid. A far sight better than what she’d experienced in her dreams. He was there. Present. And she intended to take every advantage of that fact.

      Shifting around, she straddled him, adjusting her skirt so that the only things separating them were the thin wall of her panties and his slacks.

      She stilled. Not because she knew a moment of hesitancy. But because she cherished the white hot heat flashing through her.

      She’d forgotten what it felt like to think nothing at all. To give herself over to sheer emotion. To surrender to something that was bigger than her.

      “Christ, you’re even more beautiful now than you were then,” Palmer murmured.

      Penelope pressed a finger against his lips. “Shh. Please. Don’t speak …”

      At least not with words. She wanted him to communicate with his body. Wanted him to touch her. Everywhere.

      And he did.

      Penelope gasped when he fanned his hands against her bottom and then budged them ever so slowly downward until his fingers were under the hem of her bunched up dress. Skin met skin, sending shivers down her back, causing her to arch her body, seeking a more intimate meeting.

      And he gave it to her …

      His fingers burrowed under the elastic of her panties and cupped her bottom. Then his fingertips followed the shallow crevice inward until they pressed against her swollen folds.

      Penelope tugged her mouth away from his, breathing heavily against his cheek as his fingers found their target.

      Yes …

      She heard Palmer mumble something then curse.

      “I don’t have protection,” he said into her ear.

      Penelope’s throat refused the swallow she tried to force down it, his words too familiar.

      She went still for long moments, trying to gather her scattered emotions into some sort of order. Then she slowly drew away from him, forcing him to release his hold on her both literally and figuratively. Moments later, she sat with her legs tightly closed, her dress back in place, next to him.

      “I wasn’t expecting … this,” he said quietly.

      Neither had she. Not that she usually traveled with condoms anyway. But it was somewhat reassuring that he hadn’t whipped a ready one out of his back pocket.

      Reassuring and disquieting.

      He skimmed the back of his knuckles along her jaw and kissed her again, long and hard, stretching open the gulf of sensation that she was trying desperately to close.

      He cursed once more.

      She smiled.

      “Tell me we’ll be here again, Penelope.” He stared into her eyes.

      She looked away and bit hard on her bottom lip, unable to answer.

      “I didn’t expect to be here now,” she whispered.

      He drew away and sat back against the cushions. “That sounds a little too much like a no to me.”

      “No,” she said. “It sounds like a maybe.”

       4

      “SHH, YOU’LL WAKE HER.”

      “Shush, yourself. You’re the one making all the noise.”

      Penelope easily identified the two voices coming from her open bedroom door even as she fought to hold onto sleep. She’d gotten so little of it. Hadn’t she just finally dropped off? She pried open one eye and read the clock. After eight a.m. The last time she’d looked, it had been after four. And her mind had still been racing with images from the night before. Her ears still filled with the sounds. Her body still reeling from the shock of emotions.

      “Can you tell whether or not he was in there with her?” Her grandmother’s stage whisper was louder than her regular speaking voice. It was a well-known fact, but no one seemed to have the heart to tell her.

      “How would I know?” her great-aunt asked, just slightly quieter.

      “Come on, let’s go before she wakes up.”

      Penelope rolled over and eyed the two busybodies who were also her roommates. “Too late.”

      Her grandmother made a face even as she sharply elbowed Irene. “I told you you’d wake her.”

      Her aunt gave her a long look and then entered the room fully. “That’s all right. Now that she’s up, we can ask her.”

      Penelope’s right arm was still curled around the guest pillow on the double bed. Her great-aunt tugged it from her grip and gave it a thorough inspection.

      “What are you looking for?” Penelope rose up on her elbows.

      Irene plucked at something and then held up what appeared to be a single hair. She frowned. “What color is his hair?”

      “Blond.”

      “This is dark.”

      Penelope gave an exasperated eye roll. “Probably it’s Thor’s.”

      Her aunt sighed and then dropped the hair, brushing her hands together.

      “Well, whose did you expect it to be?” Penelope asked with a raised brow.

      Her grandmother came up the other side of the bed. “Don’t play coy with me, little girl. You know perfectly well who. I changed the sheets yesterday special for the occasion.” She considered Penelope through narrow