Emilie Rose - The Jarrods - Inheritance

He’d spent a restless night, getting up every couple of hours to check on a sleeping Samantha in the bedroom next door. Of course it was easy for her to sleep so peacefully. She didn’t have to stand over an attractive member of the opposite sex who wore satin pajamas and looked deliciously alluring in bed. And she didn’t have to reach out to touch that person’s shoulder to shake them awake, nor rigidly ignore the urge to slide into bed next to her warm body and pleasure her senseless.

He would have done it, too—if he hadn’t had to wake her and ask questions to make sure she wasn’t suffering any sort of confusion. Even now the thought of her having any sort of aftereffects from the head injury still managed to clench his gut tight. He’d hated seeing her hurt. If he hadn’t been so focused on getting her away from that Ralph, then none of this would have happened.

Not even the kiss.

No, that kiss would have happened—if not there, then somewhere else. There was something going on between them now. It had started happening the night she’d handed him her resignation and it hadn’t let up.

And it wasn’t one-sided either. She’d dissolved in his arms so quickly yesterday he’d thought the marrow had melted in her bones. No woman had ever reacted quite like that for him before. It certainly made a man feel good.

Remembering the feel of her lips beneath his, he was tempted to just lie there and think about her, but he knew he’d never get out of bed if he did. And then Samantha would be bringing him breakfast in bed. The thought was more than pleasurable.

Giving a low groan, he tossed back the covers and shoved off the mattress in his pajama bottoms, then headed for the bathroom to take a shower. But as he opened the door and went to reach for the light switch, the light flicked on anyway and Samantha came through the connecting door.

She jumped back with a gasp. “Blake!”

A lick of fire sizzled through his veins as his eyes slid down over her slim contours, registering that what he thought had been green satin pajamas was an emerald midthigh nightshirt. It looked so sexy on her, suiting her complexion and rich brown hair.

He lifted his eyes back up to her face. “How’s the head?” he asked huskily.

She seemed to become flustered. “Er … it doesn’t feel too bad.” Awkwardly she spun to face the mirrored wall, going up on her toes to stare at her reflection. “I came to see if it was okay.” She lifted her long tousled strands to check the injury. “Yes, it looks fine,” she chattered. “There’s a bit of a bump and no sign of bleeding.”

He appreciated that she was okay, but did she know that stretching up over the sink like she was, the side split of her nightshirt was showing him more of her long silken legs than he’d ever seen before? All the way up her thigh to the line of her panties.

Suddenly she seemed to freeze in position as she stretched up at the mirror like that, and he realized right then she was looking at him in the mirror, with a hungry look that drifted down over his bare chest and the pajama bottoms he’d worn last night for her benefit. He tensed with arousal and she must have noticed. Their eyes locked together in the glass.

And then she slowly pushed back from the sink and turned to face him with her body, her chin tilting provocatively, her eyes inviting him to take her. Caught off-guard by such an unfamiliar look from her, he swallowed hard. His assistant was certainly showing him a new side of herself lately.

“Samantha,” he said thickly, galvanized into taking a step toward her. “Do you know what you’re—”

“Yes, Blake, I do.”

He reached her and she tumbled against him, her hands flattening against his chest, her mouth seeking his, her lips parting beneath his without any pressure at all.

Their kiss was hot and urgent and demanding, their bodies pressing closer and closer together, reveling in each other. Then a soft moan of hers breathed into him, and in a haze of desire, he deepened the kiss until he finally had to break away to suck in air.

But only for a moment, until he began planting quick, soft kisses down that creamy throat, before coming back up again to her lips, needing to be inside her mouth once more, needing to breathe her in once more.

He pulled her harder against him, running his hands hungrily over the satin material and feminine curves. She quivered all over from head to toe, wildly gripping his shoulders like she needed to hold on to him.

Mouth to mouth, he backed her to the full-length sink and lifted her up onto a folded fluffy towel. Her thighs fell open and he heard a button pop from the front of her nightshirt. He gave a groan of approval and wedged himself between her legs ….

And the coldness of the marble touched his erection through his pajamas.

The shock of it made him still. Heaven knew he could do with cooling down … slowing down … but Samantha sat in front of him with her head tilted back and her eyes closed. Her cheeks were overheated, her breathing unsteady, and despite that come-to-me look she’d given him a short while ago, she appeared to be about to lose control. God knows he’d felt the instantaneous spiral of desire himself, but this was more and he really had to wonder just how inexperienced she actually was. He swallowed hard. Could she even be a virgin?

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he did know he couldn’t continue this right now. His previous lovers knew the score but this woman may not. And if he was playing with more than her body … if her emotions were more than involved … he could cause her a lot of heartache. He didn’t want to do that to Samantha.

Yet this wasn’t the moment to talk about it, with her looking all sexy and ready for the taking. There was too much hunger in the air in here. It would only confuse things. He liked her too much to do this to her.

Unwrapping her arms from around his neck, he lifted her down off the bench, hating that he had to walk away from her. “I’m sorry, Samantha.”

Bewilderment spread over her face. “What’s the—”

“I just can’t do it,” he rasped. “Not like this.” As hard as it was to leave her side, he turned and went back to his room.

He badly wanted to turn right back around, sweep her up in his arms and carry her to his bed. He shuddered as he closed the door between them.

They would talk later and perhaps it would turn out that he’d have to keep the door closed permanently between them. Maybe she would be his road not taken. But he had to think what was best for Samantha. She deserved better than becoming his temporary mistress.

Samantha didn’t know how she made it back to her own room. Humiliation scorched through her. She’d done exactly what she’d wanted to do and given Blake a come-on. She hadn’t deliberately gone into the bathroom to entice him in there, but the opportunity had presented itself and she’d thought it had worked. Then he’d just upped and walked away and, despite his obvious arousal, he said he couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t make love with her .

She knew it had nothing to do with her having a minor head injury this time. He might say it was, but she knew this was about him not wanting her enough. His body had automatically responded to a female in his arms, but his mind had been elsewhere. As he’d said the evening before, any woman with the right equipment could attract a man. Unfortunately the attraction he felt for her hadn’t been enough. Not for him.

It was Carl all over again.

She plopped down on her bed as her legs gave way. Had she unwittingly done something wrong back there? Something to annoy him physically? Clearly he hadn’t been invested in the moment like she’d been. It had been wonderful in his arms but she hadn’t realized he’d been feeling different. She thought he’d felt the same way. It was obvious now that he could turn himself on and off at a whim—just like he had after their kiss on the mountain.