By Virtue Fall (The Shakespeare Sisters Book 4) Read online

  ‘I’m not worried.’

  She reached up to trace the lines in his brow. ‘You’re frowning,’ she murmured, running her finger along the skin to his temple.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. Even the briefest touch from her was enough to fire up the need he’d tried to keep buried. His fists were so tight his nails were digging into his palms.

  When he opened his eyes, she’d closed the gap between them completely. She was on her tiptoes, staring at him, her eyes soft and yet deep.

  ‘Ryan,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  What was he thinking? Was she crazy? With her so close he could barely conjure up a lucid thought at all. ‘I’m thinking you’re awfully close.’

  ‘You want me to move away?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You want to know what I’m thinking?’ she asked him. He could feel the warmth of her breath when she spoke.

  ‘There’s nothing I want to know more.’

  His answer elicited another smile. ‘I’m thinking about that kiss. The one in my kitchen. And I’m thinking about what might have happened if the children hadn’t been there.’

  ‘Like now you mean?’

  ‘Yeah. Exactly like now.’ Her finger traced down from his temple to his jawline. ‘Because I can’t get it out of my head. Haven’t been able to since that night. I keep remembering how warm your lips were, how hard your body was. How I wanted more.’

  ‘More?’ His voice cracked.

  ‘So much more.’ She ran her finger along his bottom lip. He was standing as still as was possible on a moored-up boat. He was too entranced by this version of Juliet to do anything but stand and admire her. ‘Ryan?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do you want to kiss me again?’

  In that moment, he couldn’t think of anything else. Yet still he waited, keeping his desire curled up tightly inside him, his eyes staring right into hers. ‘Yeah, I want to kiss you.’

  ‘So why don’t you?’ She was flirting with him. He could tell by the look in her eyes and the sound of her voice. Damn if he didn’t love it, didn’t love the way she could be so vulnerable and yet so strong. It was touching him in places he didn’t know he had.

  ‘Because I want you to kiss me first.’

  The smile that had been playing hide and seek on her face broke out into a full grin. Her shoulders relaxed, her cheeks plumped up, and she looked more desirable than ever.

  ‘Why didn’t you say so?’

  16

  Why then, can one desire too

  much of a good thing?

  – As You Like It

  It was just a kiss, right? A simple press of one mouth against another. It wasn’t even a first kiss – that honour went to the kitchen clinch, that delicious embrace against the hard wood worktop. But that had been a spur of the moment impulse, a kiss without agenda. Free of prior planning or deep meaning.

  But not this kiss. She’d been thinking about this one all morning. Been wondering when – not if – it would happen. Wondering if it would feel as good as it did that night in her bungalow.

  The fact was it already felt better and she hadn’t even done it yet. Even the hesitation was delicious, thick with need and meaning, and it pulsed through her body until her skin felt raw with desire.

  It meant something, because it was her choice. Her decision. She wasn’t just letting things happen any more, she was making them happen. She was laying claim to her own desires, unafraid where they might take her. For the first time in forever she was living for the moment, knowing that might be all they had.

  And she was loving it.

  She tightened her hold on his neck, placing the flat of her other palm against his chest to stop herself from falling forward. She could feel the planes of his muscles beneath his thin sweater, hard and unyielding.

  She was still smiling when she kissed him, the elation of their connection making her want to laugh out loud. But then her lips softened, melted into his, moved against him with a demand she didn’t need to speak. It was as if she had flicked a switch, and the lights had come flooding on. Ryan kissed her back, his hands sliding around her back and pressing against the curve of her spine.

  This wasn’t a fight for domination. They were two people – different yet equal – with needs and desires that matched each other’s. She wasn’t sure who opened their lips first, or whose tongue slid against whose, because they were both aching for the same thing.

  When they pulled apart to grab a breath of air, she let her head fall back, exposing her neck. She didn’t have to ask for him to kiss her throat – he just knew.

  When did she last feel like this? He’d only touched her with his lips and yet she was on fire. She moved the hand resting on his chest, tracing his pectoral muscles down to his abdomen, letting her fingers rise and fall over the taut ridges.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered against her ear, the sensation of his breath making her shiver. ‘So beautiful.’

  He wasn’t the first man to say it, and yet it felt so new. As though he was seeing something deeper inside her, not just the attractiveness of her face.

  ‘So are you.’ She moved her head to the side, capturing his lips again. Letting out a moan, he kissed her back, lifting a hand to run it through her hair. Above them, another goose swooped down to the riverbank, letting out a loud call as he made it to the grass.

  ‘Ryan,’ she said against his lips, unwilling to break the kiss.

  ‘Mmmhmm?’

  ‘I think you better take me to bed.’

  ‘London?’

  She rolled over, feeling the warm blankets enveloping her. Her mind was teetering on the edge of consciousness, still half-cloaked in dreams. There was a rocking sensation she couldn’t quite place. For a moment she almost plunged back into sleep, not wanting to let go of its soft embrace.

  ‘London? You need to wake up.’

  Her eyes flew open. Ryan was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs encased in denim, his torso bare. His hair was wet, slicked back from his head, and his skin glowed as though freshly scrubbed clean.

  ‘What’s going on?’ She sat up, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to focus them. Looking around, she took everything in. Where was she?

  The cabin.

  Of his boat.

  Naked.

  Oh holy hell.

  Without thinking, she pulled the blankets up to cover her bare chest. Ryan watched her, a smirk playing at his lips, as though everything about her amused him.

  ‘What time is it?’ she asked, glancing around for her phone.

  ‘Just after four.’

  ‘Four? What the heck?’ She scrambled to her knees, still trying to cover her modesty. Her frantic movements were making him laugh, as he watched her, his eyes soft.

  ‘We should head back to the wharf soon, before it starts to get dark. It gets pretty cold on the water when the sun goes down, and I haven’t brought enough blankets.’

  She rolled her lip between her teeth. ‘I didn’t realise it was so late. I must have slept for hours.’

  ‘About five. But who’s counting?’

  Her spine straightened. ‘I’m counting. I can’t believe I was out for so long. You must have been bored out of your mind.’

  ‘On the contrary, I had a lot of fun. You’re interesting when you sleep.’ Ryan grinned. ‘Did you know you talk a lot when you’re dreaming?’

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘Oh, yeah you do. I’d tell you what you said but most of it was X-rated. Let’s just say that my name was one of the most used words.’

  ‘Stop it.’ Forgetting about her naked body, she scooted across the bed and hit him on the side of his arm. ‘You’re making it up.’

  He caught her wrist, pulling her towards him. The covers fell from her body, revealing her flushed breasts and pale abdomen. The smile slid from his face, replaced by a longing that moulded his lips and narrowed his eyes. Reflecting the n
eed she felt for him.

  ‘Damn, London,’ he said, still holding to her tight. ‘My control’s about as strong as your punches right now, and we need to get back to the mooring. You want to hit me, save it for when we’re home.’

  She opened her mouth to point out that they didn’t share a home. That when they got back to Shaw Haven, he’d be back in his house and she’d be back in hers. But as soon as she saw the warning in his eyes, she closed it again, her lips smacking together like a fish blowing bubbles.

  Ryan kissed her softly on her brow. She could barely feel the pressure. Releasing her wrist, he ran his hands down her hair, twisting the strands through his fingers. ‘You should probably get dressed before I lose it altogether,’ he said, moving back and pulling a T-shirt over his wet hair.

  ‘What if I want you to lose it?’ She smiled at him.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘You want to see me out of control?’

  She licked her dry lips. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Then get dressed, London, and get your sweet little behind back on deck. We’ll sail back to the wharf and drive home. As soon as we walk through my front door I’ll show you exactly what I’m like when I lose it.’

  She wasn’t sure whether it was a threat or a promise. Either way his words made her skin tingle and her heart race. The thought of Ryan Sutherland losing control in front of her was more tantalising than she could say. She couldn’t wait to see it.

  The sun was almost setting by the time they’d tied the boat up on the jetty, casting a fiery glow over Chesapeake Bay as it slowly slid beneath the horizon. Ryan helped Juliet climb down from the deck, the rubber of her soles squeaking against the wooden planks of the boardwalk, her muscles complaining about the sudden jolt.

  She was aching all over, from the delicious combination of sailing and sex. Unlike Ryan, she hadn’t had a chance to stand under the tiny showerhead in the cabin bathroom, and she still felt sweaty and slick from all their afternoon exertions.

  She watched as he made his final checks on the deck, coiling up the rope and lowering the sail. He locked the door to the cabin, sliding the key and its cork key ring into his pocket, then climbed down to join her on the jetty.

  ‘You ready?’

  They were almost at the car when he stopped short, frowning as he read a sign that had been fixed to the fence.

  For Sale, all enquiries to Within and Cross Realtors.

  Nine words that made anger flash in his eyes.

  ‘What the hell?’ His frown deepened as he looked across to the wooden hut, where they’d seen Stan only that morning. It was locked up now, wooden shutters firmly closed across the windows. For some reason that made Ryan even angrier.

  ‘What is it?’

  He reached out to touch the sign, then pulled his hand back, fingers curled into a fist. ‘They should’ve told me this was for sale.’

  ‘Maybe Stan didn’t know.’ Juliet kept her voice quiet. Something about the fire in Ryan’s eyes made her feel edgy.

  ‘I don’t mean Stan. I meant my parents. My mom at least should have let me know about this.’

  ‘Your family own the wharf?’ She didn’t know why she was so surprised. It was no secret that the Sutherlands owned half of Shaw Haven, and the Marshalls owned the rest. Two families with such power – and both she and Ryan seemed to be the black sheep.

  ‘They do. And so do I.’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘You do?’

  ‘I’m a shareholder.’

  ‘I didn’t realise. I thought … ’ She trailed off. What did she think? Of course he had shares and money – the kind of money only a Sutherland or Marshall would have around here. Thomas had told her as much, after all.

  He was one of them, even if he pretended not to be.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked him.

  He looked around at the deserted wharf. ‘Nothing right now, I guess.’ He rolled his shoulders, as if to relieve the tension. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’ He grabbed her hand, and they walked over to his car, feet crunching as they made their way across the gravelled lot. His muscles were stiff, his body unbending, and she knew that the For Sale sign they’d seen had affected him. More than once on the journey home she opened her mouth to ask him about it, but the thin line of his lips and furrowed brow had frozen the question on her tongue. It was as though he’d drawn an invisible boundary around himself. She had no idea how to breach it.

  By the time he pulled up on his driveway, she was unsure what to do. Maybe he wanted to be alone to think about the wharf. And though she definitely didn’t want to be alone, she could give him that at least.

  ‘I’ll head on home,’ she said, climbing out of the passenger seat, as he held the door open. ‘Thank you for a lovely day.’

  He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I thought I was taking you home?’

  ‘I am home. That’s where I’m going.’

  ‘To my home. That’s where I meant. I don’t want you to leave.’ His face softened, some of the tension leaving his jaw. ‘I was distant on the way home, I know. I was shocked by the sign, I wasn’t expecting it. I’m trying to take it all in.’

  She let out a lungful of air, her muscles relaxing at his words. ‘Don’t you want to be alone, make some phone calls or something? I guess that place means a lot to you, huh?’

  ‘You could say that. But no, I don’t want to be alone. I want to take you home, and have you all over again, but this time on dry land. And when you go to sleep, I want it to be in my arms, not over there on your own.’ He put his hand out, offering it to her, his fingers outstretched.

  It didn’t take longer than a second to decide. She took Ryan’s hand, her warm palm resting against his, and let him fold his fingers around hers. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, then he led her up his front steps and across his wooden deck, to the front door. He slid his key into the lock, and as he turned it, she felt as though something was turning inside her, too. Unlocking her emotions, laying her bare, opening her up in a way she hadn’t been for the longest time. Her chest felt full with the knowledge of it.

  ‘Come inside, please,’ he said softly. Still holding his hand, she followed him in. She’d never been in his hallway before. She usually came into his kitchen by the back door.

  The walls were covered in framed prints. Images of people, of destinations, of Charlie posing on beaches and in cities. As well as the photographs there were mementos from all over the world. Old masks and brightly covered dream catchers were hung next to tribal artwork and framed silken fabrics. It was like stepping into a living museum.

  ‘Wow,’ she breathed, looking around, trying to take it all in.

  ‘What?’ A perplexed smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he stared at her. ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘It’s just this.’ She gestured at his walls. ‘I wasn’t expecting it. I don’t know why, I mean you’ve been to so many places, it’s natural you’d want to remember them. But I always took you as the kind of guy who travelled light.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Then how did you bring all these things back with you? There are enough souvenirs to fill a trailer.’

  ‘I don’t carry all this stuff around with me. I just find things I love and send them to my storage unit. When we came here, I decided the walls looked a little bare, needed some decoration.’

  She stepped towards the wooden mask, its face painted in greens, reds and blues. ‘Can I touch it?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  She slid her finger across the surface, feeling the oily paint, the rough wood, her path rising and falling with the undulations of the face. ‘Where’s this from?’

  ‘Bonsaaso, in Ghana. It’s a small village in the rainforest.’ His voice was louder than she expected. He was standing right behind her. ‘We spent a few weeks there taking photographs for a magazine.’

  ‘What about this?’ She pointed at a wooden shield.

  ‘That’s from the Philippines. It’s called a kalasag. Th
ey were traditionally used in battles by Filipino warriors.’

  Juliet felt his breath on her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. He was so close she only had to turn for their bodies to be touching. She breathed in, smelling the mixture of fresh water and soap that was becoming familiar. Everything about him was enticing.

  ‘They’re all so beautiful,’ she breathed, unable to take her eyes away. ‘No wonder you had to have them here.’

  She turned to face him, and he was staring at her. This time it was Ryan who reached out and feathered his fingers along her jawline, gently tipping her chin up as he leaned down to kiss her. ‘I’ve got something else to show you, too,’ he murmured, his lips curling up against hers as he spoke.

  ‘I bet you have.’ Her smile matched his. When he took her hand and led her to the stairs, she wasn’t sure who was more eager to get to his bedroom.

  In the end it was a dead heat. But really, they both won.

  17

  Parting is such sweet sorrow,

  That I shall say good night till it be morrow

  – Romeo and Juliet

  Juliet lay curled up on his bed, her body illuminated by a shaft of moonlight. He stared at her face, following the curves of her profile with his eyes, imagining capturing them in a photograph, one that was only meant for him. They were both naked. He’d cranked the heating up enough for neither of them to feel the chill they’d had on the boat.

  She mumbled in her sleep, turning over, and he glanced at the clock beside his bed. The illuminated numbers told him it was almost one in the morning. If only he could stop his mind from racing and join her in sleep. Instead thoughts were rushing through him like a river down a waterfall, crashing against his skull until he acknowledged their existence.

  Good thoughts – ones about Juliet, the way she’d kissed him on the boat, and the lightness in her smile when she’d teased him. He’d seen a different side of her today, and he’d been so damn pleased that she’d finally made a move.

  But there were darker thoughts, too. He blinked, trying to take the memory of that For Sale sign out of his mind, but it stubbornly remained. His stomach dropped at the thought of it. Of what the money men would do to that piece of real estate once they got their hands on it.