by Rachel Lee
“Aw hell.” He crossed the room and pulled her up against him, the skin of his chest warm and smooth against her cheek. “You please me. Already you please me. Are you sure?”
She managed a jerky nod. She was sure she needed this experience. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it tomorrow, but she had to know if she could make a man happy in bed. Porter had stripped that from her, and damn it, she wanted it back.
And she wanted Rory. More than anything else she wanted Rory. Just once. It was like a child’s plea. Let me just once.
But it was no child leaning into him, lifting her arms to wrap them around his narrow waist. It was a woman trying to be born again.
* * *
Rory had had his share of sexual encounters in his life before Regina. Not something he was proud of, and he supposed if anyone ever asked him for an accounting he probably wouldn’t remember half of them. But things had changed since Regina and fatherhood, and he felt as nervous in some ways as a young boy.
This woman was strong and fragile at once. He’d gotten a measure of her strength in the way she’d started putting herself back together after Porter, but she was a long way from recovery and the last thing, the absolute last thing, he wanted to do was add to her scars. How would he know what kind of lover he was? Most of the women he’d bedded had been more interested in adding a notch to their belts than in him. He’d been a prize, a trophy for them.
This woman was looking for no trophies, unless he’d totally misjudged her. She needed reassurance as much as anything, and he honestly wondered if he was the man to provide it.
But he’d set this ball in motion, and now she was here under her own steam. The absolute worst thing he could do would be to back away now because he feared for her.
He was a damn fool and knew it, but he also knew how much he’d come to crave her. For weeks it had been building, held in check for lots of good reasons ranging from the fact that she worked for him to his daughter.
But Regina wasn’t in the house, wouldn’t be again until tomorrow. So that left the other reasons, all of them, rapidly turning to dust as he held Abby.
For a while he just kept hugging her, giving her time and space to change her mind. Holding her as if this filled some kind of hole in him and told him just how much he’d been missing this most simple and important form of human contact: a hug.
But desire was rising in him again as he held her, feeling her soft curves. It wasn’t enough to have her pressed to him. He wanted to fill his eyes, his mind, his hands, his mouth with every inch of her. He wanted to feel her tremble and shudder under his ministrations until she cried out for joy.
He wanted to bury himself deep within her and take flight to the stars. To find release in her and give her the same.
His heart was thudding with hunger now, his erection stiffening until it felt almost painful. He could have swept her onto that bed and made love to her in a New York minute. But she needed more than that.
And frankly, so did he.
He ran his hands over the curve of her back, encouraging her to relax even more. He heard a gentle sigh escape her and she burrowed more deeply into his embrace.
“I want to see you,” he murmured. Fevered imaginings for the last few weeks were no substitute. She probably had no idea how much she revealed when she donned her fleece and didn’t wear a bra. He already knew she had full breasts and rounded hips but those hints weren’t the same and definitely weren’t enough.
She drew a shaky breath, then eased her hold on his waist. Stepping back, her eyes closed, she started to lift her sweatshirt over her head.
He touched her hands. “Let me.”
Her move to undress herself reiterated her decision, but he still moved slowly as he lifted the material, giving her another chance to change her mind. He wished she’d open those lovely golden eyes of hers, but he could understand her shyness.
Beneath the shirt he found smooth skin and more softness. No ribs poking out. As he raised the shirt higher, he found her breasts, as full as he’d thought, with nipples already pebbled and begging for a man’s touch and kiss.
“Man, you’re beautiful,” he murmured sincerely as he tossed the shirt away.
A little shake of her head told him she still wasn’t believing it. Maybe couldn’t believe it. He grew determined to convince her otherwise. He cupped her breasts in his hands. Firm. Soft. Real. And yeah, he could tell the difference.
“Abby. Open your eyes.”
“No...”
“Please. I’m admiring you. You shouldn’t hide from that.” In a few more minutes he doubted he’d be able to talk at all. The throbbing in his loins was beginning to reach his brain, a primitive drumbeat that wanted to overcome reason. He fought it back. For now.
Her eyelids fluttered, then at last they opened a little.
“Look down,” he said.
Hesitantly she did.
“See how beautiful your breasts are? I’m holding them, and love the way they look and feel. Woman, you are perfectly endowed.”
She surprised him then with a wry comeback. “You’d know.”
At first he felt a flicker of anger, but it was quickly swamped in other realizations. “Yes, I would,” he said. “This ain’t my first rodeo. Keep that in mind.”
Then he brushed his thumbs over her engorged nipples and heard her sharp intake of breath. “Responsive, too,” he said, aware that his voice was thickening. This was torture, but torture of the best kind.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss on her lips, just a light one because there was another place he wanted to kiss more. Lowering his head, he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then more strongly. When she grabbed his shoulders for support, he knew a very real sense of male triumph.
Abby was his, for tonight at least, and she was filling other holes inside him, empty places left by the winds of fame, the ugliness of divorce and the battle for his daughter. Yes, they’d find forgetfulness tonight, but even as the yearning swamped him, he hoped there’d be more than that.
She shivered as he sucked her nipple, then her fingers dug into him as he withdrew his mouth and moved to her other breast. As he sucked, he felt as if the rhythm of his pull matched the rhythmic pounding in his loins. With each passing second, his entire body was growing heavier until he felt he could barely stand.
At last he pulled his mouth from her breast, blowing lightly on her damp nipple, listening with delight to the groan that escaped her. Gently he urged her onto the bed and slipped off her jogging pants, underwear and socks. At last she lay naked in front of him, illumined only by the dim light from the bedside lamp and the little bit of light the storm allowed through one tall window. A contrast of cool and hot in the light, outlining her every charm.
And she had plenty of them. She watched almost sleepily as he stripped the rest of his clothes, then knelt naked between her legs. She reached up at once, running her palms over him as if she wanted to touch every inch of him. Her hips began a gentle rocking, a come-hither that called to him as strongly as any siren’s sound.
Spreading her legs even wider, he looked down at her most private place, surrounded by a thick brown thatch that barely concealed the warm cleft in the center. Bending, he ran his tongue over her, tasting her sensitive nub. She cried out, but didn’t push him away. Instead she tried to pull him closer.
Her hands ran over his chest, then she stunned him by reaching down and grabbing his erection. The sensation electrified him, driving everything else from his mind. He pumped in her hand, not sure how long he’d be able to hang on to his self-control. Long enough to dig a condom out of the bedside table, but no longer. Her hands fumbled with his as she helped roll it on, the sexiest thing ever except for her.
Her eagerness matched his. Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself, taking care as he entered
her, aware it had been a while. She gasped, her eyes closing, and her whole body reached up to meet him.
Buried at last deep within her, he kissed her, this time driving his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the movements of his hips until it felt as if they were rocking themselves up a huge pinnacle of need.
He felt explosions throughout his body, nerve endings crackled with excitement, his loins ached with need. Rising on one elbow he put his hand between them and found her sensitive nub of nerves, determined that she come with him.
And come with him she did. Higher and higher until her soft cries seemed to meld with all the pounding sensations inside of him, goading him, satisfying him all at once. Then he heard the cry and heard her stiffen, arching up into him.
With one more thrust he followed her over the top into the glory beyond.
* * *
Abby felt as if she’d entered a new universe. Her release had been so strong that it almost hurt. She lay beneath Rory, exhausted, joyful, sated. One thing she knew for sure, Porter had never made her feel like this. His lovemaking had been perfunctory, more about his enjoyment than hers.
Which had made it so much easier to believe the criticisms he had hurled at her.
Rory groaned and lifted his head. “Be right back.”
He withdrew from her carefully, then disappeared into his bathroom. A short while later he returned and literally hopped into the bed with her, grinning.
She had to smile back, although she was sure she couldn’t move a muscle. The torpor that filled her was delicious, and she didn’t want to lose it.
He threw the covers back, and cold air drifted across her heated skin. “You are so beautiful,” he said. As if to prove it, he ran his palm over her from her shoulders to her knees, then followed up with a light sprinkling of kisses, before pulling the comforter over them again and drawing her into his arms.
“You’re pretty beautiful yourself,” she offered, finding it hard to talk.
“Is this the point where I ask if it was as good for me as it was for you?”
As his reversal of words struck her, a laugh escaped her. “Silly.”
“Well, it’s more entertaining than the right way. Personally, I thought it was fabulous, and if you don’t object, I want you again.”
Of course she didn’t object. The thought that he wanted her again made her toes curl with delight. “It was wonderful. Totally wonderful.”
And totally unlike her previous experience. She expected him to roll over and go to sleep the way Porter always had, but instead he continued to lie beside her, gazing at her and smiling. In all the weeks she had known him, she had seldom seen him looking this relaxed.
But to be fair, it had been months since she had felt this relaxed.
“I hope,” he said, “that you feel as beautiful as you are.”
She colored faintly. “Don’t embarrass me.”
“The truth shouldn’t embarrass you. I think you’re beautiful. And since I already got what I wanted, I don’t need to lie.”
She drew a sharp breath, astonished, then giggled and pushed his shoulder lightly. “You’ll go to my head.”
“There are other places I’d like to go, as well.”
She ducked her head into his shoulder, inhaling his wonderful, musky scent and wondered how she could have missed this. With Porter there had been little foreplay, and certainly no afterplay. He’d have been snoozing by now.
Maybe it was time to stop making comparisons. Maybe it was time to just appreciate the moment in hand. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
He tilted his head a little. “It sounds like the wind is dying down. And I guess I should take care of Rally. Do you want to wait for me here or come down with me?”
She wanted to stay in his bed forever, but decided it might be best to carry on as if nothing had changed. Because it probably hadn’t, except for the wonderful seeds of warmth he’d planted deep inside her frozen heart.
“I’ll come.”
Oddly, she felt no embarrassment as she climbed out of bed and put her clothes on, even though Rory made no secret of the pleasure he took in watching her dress. His admiring gaze really did make her feel beautiful.
They walked downstairs hand in hand to find the dog waiting patiently beside his empty bowls. He looked as if he’d endured his separation from them out of good manners, but he was running out of patience. It was enough to make her grin.
As soon as Rory headed for the back door, the Great Dane scrambled to his feet and hurried along. While Rory took care of the walk, Abby filled the water bowl. That animal could sure drink.
Beyond the windows, the blowing snow had settled. The day was still steely gray, but the world, far from being buried in white, looked as if it had received only a light dusting of snow. Most of it, she surmised, had blown to places where it could blow no farther, in gullies and up against buildings. And, apparently, across the roads, to judge by what Nancy Nash had said.
She popped over to the small TV over the counter and turned on the weather. More snow to come, a list of roads closed by drifting snow, possibility of school cancellation.
Wow!
Rory and the dog drifted back in just in time to catch the last of the forecast.
“Well, that doesn’t sound good. Nancy may get awfully tired of having both girls if this goes on another day.”
“I don’t know,” Abby answered. “When I was that age, my girlfriends and I pretty much were self-entertaining. We’d hide in a bedroom so nobody would bother us.”
“Maybe I should call anyway.”
He picked up the phone and dialed. Moments later he was clearly being assured by Nancy Nash that the girls weren’t any trouble at all. When he hung up, he was smiling.
“Nancy says they’re less trouble together than Betsy is on her own.”
Abby had no trouble believing that. All of a sudden, she felt a little awkward. Her role as housekeeper no longer fit exactly, but she wasn’t sure what other role she had. She turned back to the coffeepot as if it fascinated her.
She heard Rory move, then strong arms encircled her waist and he kissed the nape of her neck. “You love that coffeepot?”
Shivers of desire rippled through her. She leaned back against him, marveling at his strength and the hardness of his muscles. “It’s a strong urge, you know,” she managed lightly. “When I first saw it I was overwhelmed. Now I figure it’s the best coffeepot ever invented. I don’t even have to be fully awake to use it.”
“My mom used to make it on the stove in a tin pot that must have been a hundred years old. Well, probably not, but it was battered enough. When I discovered drip coffee, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
Her laugh came out a bit breathless and ragged. “Yeah.”
“You said you used to help in your family’s business. What was it?”
“Do you remembered the catalog store over on First?”
“Do I ever.” He turned, keeping his arms loosely around her so that they were face-to-face. Her hands settled on his narrow waist. “Trips to the catalog store were among my favorite things. That was your parents’? What happened?”
“The internet and online buying. Good for delivery services, not good for catalog stores.”
He nodded, frowning faintly. “I hadn’t thought about that, but yeah, I can see it. So they had to shut down?”
“About five years ago. Couldn’t meet the bills anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “Times change.”
“Unfortunately, sometimes.” He released her and went to sit at the table. “Yeah, I remember the catalogs. Mom loved to pore over them. I hadn’t really thought about it, but those big old catalogs were a staple of ranch life at one time. Lots of folks called them wishbooks.”
&
nbsp; “A staple of a lot of lives. Anyway, it kept getting worse, and then they couldn’t afford any help, so I worked for them for a few years. After that...well, I think I told you my dad found a job in Colorado Springs.”
“Are they doing okay?”
“Dad can’t work anymore. Heart condition. He’s on disability and Mom works at some big box store for a little extra. Otherwise they’re fine.”
“How come you didn’t go with them?”
She shook her head and turned back to the coffeepot. “They wanted me to go to college. By the time they moved I was old enough to be a resident on my own here, and I could get in-state tuition. They helped as much as they could.”
“Then Porter.”
“Then Porter.” The coffee had finished brewing and she pulled down two mugs. “Coffee cake?”
“The only thing I’m hungry for is you.”
Her heart nearly stopped in her breast.
“But I’ll give you a break. Coffee cake will be nice. Let me get it out.”
They sat together at the table, but she all of a sudden found it hard to meet his gaze. Had he really meant that? Would he have said it if he hadn’t? But then Porter had made vows to her that hadn’t even survived a whole year, from what she gathered. And why should she need a break? Was he just kindly brushing her off?
Agonizing thoughts ran through her mind and emotions, primary among them: had she just been the world’s worst fool?
“Abby?” His hand suddenly rested over hers on the table. “I can feel that shell closing around you again. Did I do something?”
“No,” she murmured. How much of her fear came from her imagination? This man hadn’t made any promises, but would she have believed them if he had? No, the trouble rested all inside her.
“I find that hard to believe.”
Astonished, she finally forgot herself enough to look at him.
“What do you want from me, Abby?”
“I don’t...”
“Maybe you do.” His voice had taken on an edge. “Everyone wants something. Why should you be any different?”