There was some reason she shouldn’t be doing this, she thought vaguely, hesitating for a second as he deepened the kiss. It was something to do with Hannah… No, Hannah was married now, on her honeymoon. She was here in this dimly lit romantic haven, snow falling outside, the whisper of winter swirling around them, and Seth was hot…so hot. And so tender.
They fell to the bed in a tangle of arms and legs and heated moans. Mimi had never felt such a pull to be close to someone. Seth cupped her face and gazed into her eyes. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“I know.”
His hands pulled her closer, stroked her inner thigh. “It’s probably not a good idea.”
“But it feels so good, Seth, so right.” She traced a finger along his jaw, mesmerized by the moonlight spilling onto his face, shading his broad jaw with sharp angles and planes, darkening his eyes to black. Eyes that whispered their yearning in the quiet of the night. She slid the gown down and dropped it to the floor. A smile curved her mouth when she saw the appreciation in his gaze. His skin, translucent and glowing with the faint hint of excitement, felt warm to her fingertips as he stripped his shirt off.
He held her face between his hands. “You are beautiful, Mimi. God, I can’t believe I’m here like this with you.”
“And I take back what I said. You’re not dull at all.” She lifted her hand and swept it through his hair, her heart pounding as he lowered his head and dropped kisses along her neck, then lower. His breath bathed her body, his whispered words of desire stoked the fire between them, and his hands drove her over the edge. The flames sizzled, chasing away the earlier chill from the snowstorm, the lingering embers of hesitation dying with each breath and kiss. And when he joined his body with hers, they rode the crest of the wave together and found ecstasy in each other’s arms.
SOMETIME AFTER his internal clock would have woken him in the morning, Seth awoke from the most satisfying dream he’d ever had to find a delicious, tantalizing body draped across him. Long, wild, curly auburn hair lay across his chest, and a pair of long, sexy legs were wedged between his own. Although his muscles were sore from his fall, his body stirred to life again and he sighed with bliss, unable to believe he still had the energy to want this woman. After all, they’d already made love countless times.
Countless?
He mentally ticked off the different places they’d found pleasure—the bed, the shower, the bed, the Jacuzzi, the bed again.
His heart thundered in his chest as he took another mental count of the number of condoms he’d had in his wallet—the ones he’d carried for two years just to be prepared in case he and Hannah ever…
No, he couldn’t think about Hannah while lying in bed with her sister.
Dear God. The math didn’t add up. He’d had four condoms. They’d made love five times. And sometime during the night, he remembered Mimi saying she wasn’t on the pill.
He slapped his forehead, pride for his male prowess and foreboding for the possible consequences warring within his chest. One eye darted toward the vixen who’d stirred his blood and passion to life. Her long eyelashes fluttered, and a sweet little smile curved her lips. Beautiful was too blasé a word for Mimi.
Other words came to mind—ravenous, sensational, creative, exciting, impulsive…off-limits.
He groaned and tried to lift her from his body, gritting his teeth when his body swelled, aching for her again. Ethics, common sense and his friendship with Hannah aside, it had been a cataclysmic night. But a huge mistake.
Sure, they’d had great sex, but that could have been the liquor talking. Except he’d only had one drink. And if he remembered correctly, so had Mimi.
What had possessed them? The wedding, getting stranded, the heat in the car, all that damn dancing?
He’d never go dancing again.
How would he face Hannah at the hospital? Worse, what would Mimi expect now? One night with her was great, but a relationship… No, they were too different.
Their career paths were on very different courses. They didn’t associate with the same type of people. He was practical, conservative; she was impractical, showy. He owned a traditional home, worked with scholarly types, had to live up to his family’s expectations and their place in society. Mimi was anything but traditional, cavorted with a wild crowd, often appeared on her father’s wacky commercials. Good God, they’d only wound up together because of Hannah. And if Hannah found out he’d slept with her sister, she might think he’d used Mimi to get over her.
No, he and Mimi were disastrous together. Their earlier conversation rose to haunt him. The only thing they had in common was that neither wanted marriage or kids. At least not now.
But what if she was pregnant?
MIMI SQUEEZED her eyes shut, pretending sleep as she wrestled with the awkward morning after. She knew Seth was awake, had felt his heart start pounding double time and his muscles tense, as if he, too, didn’t know quite how to handle things. His lower body didn’t seem to be listening to his brain, though. If she moved an inch to either side, they would have a repeat of the night before—only now, in the light of day, it didn’t seem like such a great idea.
When would she learn not to be so impetuous?
Seth gently pulled her arms from around his neck, and she allowed him to roll her to the side. She emitted a little moan as if she might be stirring from slumber to make the act seem more real—after all, she was an actress. She could pretend nothing had happened and blow the whole night off with a shrug if he really weirded out on her.
She curled on her side, dragging the satin sheets over her as he padded barefoot to the bathroom. But she couldn’t resist peeking through a slitted eye to admire his firm, muscular backside. Good grief, the man had great buns and a broad back, and corded muscles she hadn’t expected. Why did he hide them under those boring gray suits?
Because he was a psychiatrist, she reminded herself, crashing back to reality. The very reason the two of them did not belong together. She was the impulsive, middle-class, college-dropout child of wacky Wiley Hartwell; he was the genius-doctor son of the upper-class Broadhursts.
She heard the shower kick on, remembered the two of them and all the naughty things they’d done beneath the water, the look on Seth’s face when she’d gotten inventive with strawberries—they’d tasted sinful wedged in his navel with a dash of lime juice—and felt an odd kind of loneliness. The night had been spectacular. He had held her and loved her more tenderly than any man ever had. Did it really have to end? Maybe she’d shortchanged herself into thinking she didn’t deserve someone as sophisticated as Seth.
Then she noticed the rumpled bridesmaid dress, and desire drained from her faster than dishwater drained from a sink. She’d stooped lower than ever—she had broken the unspoken rule about not dating a sister’s former boyfriend. Disgust filled her. She’d always walked in Hannah’s shadow, and she’d never really minded. Hadn’t minded wearing her hand-me-down clothes or shoes or even sharing a room with her when she was growing up.
But she absolutely drew the line at taking her leftover men.
SETH EMERGED from the steamy bathroom and hissed in frustration at his torn pants. Then he saw Mimi.
Gut-wrenchingly beautiful, Mimi jumped from the bed, twisting the sheet around her naked body. The satin fabric molded to every curve and peak, accentuating her lush figure so he could almost see her skin through the thin layer of cloth. Her wild hair spiraled around her bare shoulders in a tangle, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded with sleep, her makeup faded. But tousled and freshly loved, she looked more appealing than ever.
Only, where passion and ecstasy had glistened in her eyes last night, turmoil now stretched across her features. She looked miserable, which made him feel even more miserable. Hadn’t she enjoyed their night together? He’d certainly thought so.