Page 115 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

in and suffering for those she’d cared about. Had she gone to Josh’s house that night? And what? Brought back buckets of blood? Had, as he’d accused, been negligent with their child? Mother of God, no . . . She shivered. Had she climbed the steps to her mother’s bedroom on the evening she’d taken ill and, while no one was looking, replaced the nitroglycerin pills with placebos, and when that attempt on Berneda’s life had failed, had she snuck into the hospital and finished the job? Images, faint, teasing and oh, so deadly, darted in front of her eyes, and though she didn’t realize it, she began to shake. Had she, during those periods of her life she couldn’t remember, have become a killer? Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? No . . . please . . . no . . .

“Caitlyn?”

Adam’s voice brought her up short. Back to this room with its fading flowers and familiar wallpaper, to the cold grate of the marble fireplace and the piano with Jamie’s picture upon its polished surface. To the man staring at her with concerned eyes.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, but he must not have believed her for he pulled her into his arms and drew her near. They were half lying on the couch, she atop him, snuggling close. “Things will be better.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead and she melted inside. His arms were strong. She let her head fall against his chest and heard the steady, comforting beat of his heart, smelled a faint scent of some aftershave.

“How do you know?”

“I know.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” she teased.

“Trust me.” He kissed the top of her crown. “Some things have to be taken on faith.”

She chuckled at the irony of it. “You’re a good one to talk. You don’t even believe me about my sister.”

“I’m trying,” he said and she wanted to believe him, turned to look into his eyes and couldn’t help brushing a kiss against his lips. He tasted of whiskey and wine and all things male. Groaning, he kissed her hard, his hands coming up to tangle in her hair, his eyes closing.

Don’t do this, Caitlyn, use your head.

But she disregarded the horrid little voice in her head and gave in to the need for human touch, the yearning to be wanted. Her lips parted and his tongue slid into her, caressing the ridges of the roof of her mouth as he held her firmly against him. Her breasts tingled, her skin was on fire and through their clothes, pressed hard against the juncture of her legs, she felt his erection, harder as their kiss deepened. He found the zipper of her dress and she didn’t object, let the fabric part until her bare back was exposed. His fingers moved lightly down her spine, tracing its ridge, sliding between her buttocks.

She felt her heart kick into double time, sensed the first dusky stirrings deep within, of want that yawned and begged for more.

“Caitlyn—” he said, his voice low and husky, sweat beading on his forehead. “We shouldn’t.”

“I know.” But she didn’t believe him, just kissed the side of his mouth.

“This could be trouble.”

“Only if we let it,” she whispered, kissing him again, feeling his heat, his need, so much like her own, pulsing in the thick air between them, throbbing in their blood. She moved against him, her long dress bunching, and he seemed to let go.

“God help me,” he ground out as his hands grabbed the dress’s hem and he pulled it upward, the tips of his fingers grazing her thighs, his need evident. She got lost in the smell and taste of him, kissing his lips, his eyes, his nose as he stripped them both, yanked her dress over her head, unhooked her bra and pulled off his shirt and slacks. There was no more talk of denial, no more worry about propriety. He kissed her as if he never intended to stop, stripping away her bra and panties as her heart pounded and her blood thundered in her ears. He pulled her atop him and lifted his hips, thrusting into her from below, claiming her while she was straddling him, caressing her breasts as she moved.

His eyes were closed as they kissed long and hard, the air between them dense, the heat palpable. Her pulse raced, lightning quick, moving her to that dark, dangerous beyond.

Faster and faster they moved and the room spun crazily . . . wildly. Her nipples hardened beneath his touch, and when he curled up to take one in his mouth, she cried out. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, her thoughts losing connection. Electricity seemed to crackle around them and she closed her eyes, feeling the need building within her, the great swelling that was as consuming as it was pleasurable. He knew just where to touch her, just how to . . . .

“Oh . . . oh . . . oh, God, Adam!” she cried as the first spasm hit. Jolting her. Catapulting her into another time and space. Her eyes closed and for the moment she was lost. Couldn’t find herself, couldn’t breathe.

Beneath her, every muscle in his body contracted.

He cried out, his voice raw, his fingers digging into her buttocks.

He lost himself in her and she opened her eyes, stared down at this stranger who was still inside her. Shivering, she blinked hard. Then Kelly realized what had happened.

Caitlyn, the fool, had made love to this man . . . her shrink. God, what a mess, Kelly thought, still straddling him. Oh, he was good enough looking, chiseled male and all. A damned Adonis with his square jaw, intelligent eyes and honed body. Just the kind of physical specimen Kelly liked. Caitlyn sure could pick ’em, that much was certain. She wiggled a bit and he groaned. Oh, she liked that. The ultimate power of sex over a man.

What a trip.

“Caitlyn?” he said, and she smiled naughtily.

If he only knew. Caitlyn was long gone . . . wouldn’t be back for hours. Maybe days. “Ummm.”

“Come here,” he said, his voice low, as he motioned for her to lie against him, to cuddle in afterglow. Jesus, he was predictable. She hesitated, then lowered herself, tangling her fingers in his chest hair and getting off on the fact that he had no idea that she’d switched, that her personality had taken over wimpy, whining, always-the-victim Caitlyn’s. She cooed against his skin and felt his fingers caressing her shoulders, holding her close, his breath whispering in her hair. So romantic. And so damned foolish. But she could play along and he’d never know.

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