Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(31)

Connor flipped on the radio, turned the dial until he found some classic blues. "Change it if you want."

"This is fine." That was all she managed to say to him.

She just sat there, squeezing her quivering thighs tightly around the hot ache. Her panties were wet. She wanted to stop at the first hotel, drag him into it, and make him finish what he'd started. She wanted to jump out of the car and run screaming. She'd been split into pieces, and each piece wanted something different.

She peeked at his grim profile, and the images that rose up in her mind made her blush again. Herself naked against his long, hard body, limbs entwined. She thought of the unyielding bulk of his erection pressing against her panties. Imagined him penetrating her. Her breath hitched in her chest. She felt almost faint, her heart raced so hard.

She was so sick of celibacy. She was almost twenty-seven, away from home, and climbing the walls. No one would ever know if she did something so crazy as to have sex with Connor McCloud.

At least she wasn't a virgin, although Bradley hardly counted. Ironically enough, the main reason she'd been attracted to Bradley in the first place was because he bore a superficial resemblance to Connor. He was tall, lean, blond. Just graduated from Princeton, already accepted at Harvard Law. He'd been sharp and witty, had made her laugh. And he had persuaded her that he was the perfect stud to relieve her of the crushing burden of her virginity.

The memory unrolled in her mind no matter how she pushed it away. She had felt absolutely nothing when they finally did the deed. Just embarrassment, at the appraising comments he had made about her body, and in bed, an uncomfortable sense of being invaded. A powerful urge to shove him off, which she had controlled. After all, she had agreed to all that intimacy. Bradley didn't deserve to be shoved.

But she had felt so bleak and alone staring up at his face. His eyes squeezed shut, his teeth clenched in a grimace, lost in his own world as his hips pumped into her more or less numb body.

Afterwards he'd been so pleased with himself. Don't worry, he told her. She'd get the hang of it soon, and he'd give her lots of opportunities to practice. First item on the lesson plan: fellatio. Bradley thought it was a huge joke that she'd reached the ripe old age of twenty-one without ever having given head. "It's time, babe, it's definitely time," he'd said. "Let's get some pizza. As soon as I recover you can embark on your maiden voyage. I'm a great teacher, believe me."

She had excused herself and gone home before he recovered, afflicted by lingering sadness. After all the buildup, that was all?

She knew objectively, both from Bradley's own proud assertions as well as what she had read in romance novels and erotica, that Bradley wasn't technically a bad lover. He'd done everything he could think of to give her an orgasm; he'd paid careful attention to her breasts, which just felt irritated and ticklish at his touch, though she had feigned enjoyment. He'd stimulated her between her legs. But he hadn't concealed his impatience when she was slow to respond.

Finally one night, he'd flopped over onto his back and told her that if even he couldn't get her off, then she was one hurting puppy. Sorry, babe. Face the facts. The truth will set you free. She was a lousy lay. A tab of Ecstasy might loosen her up. Did she want to give it a try?

She hadn't. He'd gone off to Harvard and never called her again, to her relief. And her mother's disappointment.

Knowing for a fact that she was bad at sex had made it hard to contemplate trying again. She cringed at the thought of risking that empty, shamed sense of failure again. It was easier to throw herself into her research. That was something she knew for sure she was good at.

She'd almost convinced herself that she was fine alone when she found out about the deadly trap that Connor had fallen into. He and Jesse had been following a lead on Novak. Connor had been boarding a boat when it blew up and flung him into the icy waters of the Sound. He'd been burned, his leg smashed. By the time help arrived and fished him out, he was in a coma. And Jesse had been murdered.

She'd faced the truth, then, in one hard, horrible blow. She loved Connor McCloud. She wanted him, and only him. It had been no hardship to go to the clinic to read to him. The hard part had been to leave him every day, so still and quiet.

When he woke up, she'd been dizzy with joy, but she'd still hesitated to declare herself. It seemed hardly fair to inflict her adolescent yearnings on a man who was dazed with shock and grief, in severe physical pain. Weeks had gone by. Her resolve had faltered. The weeks had turned to months, and then Crystal Mountain had happened. Novak, Georg, Dad, and Connor, and a violent tornado of revenge and betrayal that had blown her whole life to pieces.

She'd been trying ever since to put it behind her, but she hadn't anticipated getting a chance like this, to find out once and for all if her erotic fantasies about Connor had any basis in reality. No one would ever know unless she told them, and she would never tell. She would hug this secret close to herself, precious and painful to the same degree. The one time that busy, sensible, practical Erin Riggs gave in to folly and did something wild and crazy.

She sneaked a glance at his profile again. He caught her doing it, and she looked away, color flaring in her face.

Connor's kisses alone turned her on more than anything that Bradley had ever done.

Her life felt so cold and bleak. His heat was irresistible.



Connor checked the directions before he pulled off the highway. He didn't trust himself at all today, not even his ironclad memory. He wasn't sure what scared him more: losing control and jumping all over a woman uninvited, or her response. She'd grabbed him, kissed him. Melted against him, red-hot and willing, just like his wildest fantasies.