The Way Home: Winter (Mandrake Falls Series Romance Book 3)

by Catherine Lloyd

  “Says who?” He cupped and kneaded her breasts until she fell against him, her legs too weak to hold her up.

  “Everyone.”

  “Don’t change a thing,” he groaned and dropped to his knees. He pressed his lips to her belly while his hands stroked her buttocks through the thin silk. “You’re perfect.”

  “Oh boy, oh my.” Michael closed her eyes, lost in the sensations his caresses were stirring in her. “That works. Everything you’re doing works.”

  He got to his feet and began nibbling her neck.

  “You’ve been there already,” Michael murmured.

  “I’m going back for a second exploration.” His breath was warm and tickled. His hands moved from her breasts to her back and floated feather light up her spine. Michael was mesmerized. A part of her mind wondered if she should be doing something too. Doing something to him might distract him from what he was doing to her and she wasn’t unselfish enough to cope with that at the moment. Besides, she was too weak from arousal to do anything but stand there and allow the exploration.

  Then he slid the nightie from her shoulders and it floated to the floor. All thought dissolved and her brain shut down entirely as Hudson retraced the path his hands had made over her body with his mouth. He kissed her across her shoulders and down the length of her spine to the hollow just above her buttocks. “Lie down,” he said.

  Michael found her voice. “Here?”

  “Yes. It’s Christmas.”

  She opened her eyes as if waking from a dream and met Hudson’s gaze. His irises were shining steel ringed with black. Michael allowed him to lead her to the sofa. She sank to the cushions, feeling really, really naked. Making love in the open with a real-life man was much more inhibiting than it was on the show. Love scenes were part of her work day. This was entirely different. Hudson was gazing at her with such concentrated awe that he looked almost shy and that helped her relax. Maybe he was feeling as self-conscious as she did.

  “Give me your arm,” he said in a hushed voice. She lifted her arm obediently and watched as he ran his hand along the length of it, rubbing her skin methodically from her wrist to her shoulders and then down her back. It was like being massaged and exfoliated at the same time—the palms of his hands were calloused and rough. She liked the feeling very much. It was relaxing and intimate and made her feel close to him. Like she could trust him.

  He drew her foot to his lap and rubbed each one and then her calves, knees, thighs and buttocks. She expected him to push for more—she was naked after all—but he seemed willing to familiarize himself with her body until she was the one who was impatient.

  “Hudson, I would really, really like to see your body right now.”

  He whipped off his tee-shirt with a speed that made Michael laugh. The flannel pajama bottoms were shucked just as quickly. He stood at the edge of the sofa just as naked as she was. Their eyes found each other and they were transfixed. Michael shivered, nervous. Something told her Hudson was not an ordinary man and this night was going to be more than she could handle.

  “Move down,” he said. She did and he sat behind her settling her between his legs. She leaned her head back, warm and secure as the radio launched into a sweet Christmas carol. The fire glowed on the hearth.

  “This is nice,” she said.

  “It’s not supposed to be nice. It’s supposed to be erotic.” Hudson wrapped his arms about her, hugging her against his chest.

  “Erotic you can have any time. Nice doesn’t happen that often.”

  “I must be slipping. I’m throwing you my best moves and you think they’re nice.”

  Michael twisted slightly to get a better look at his face. “They’re erotic too. Your moves are nice and erotic.”

  “You are so beautiful.” He cupped her face and brought his lips close, “I need to kiss you.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, Mr. Grace.”

  His mouth blended with hers, touching and tasting, building the need between them. She snaked her arms over her head and behind his neck. His hands, rough from his work in the forest, roamed over her breasts and down her belly. When he reached her thighs, Michael gasped and twisted in his arms. She climbed on him, straddling his hips and he moaned and closed his eyes. His restraint was almost as exciting as the man himself and Michael wondered how long he would last before he cracked under it. How long would she?

  His hands moved over her curves, finding every place on her body that drove her wild and some places she didn’t even know she had. Then he began toying with her breasts, kneading and squeezing her nipples. She watched his eyes darken with desire as her nipples hardened to tight firm peaks and she stretched her arms over her head inviting him to do more. Hudson tongued one rosy bud and then the other, very slowly, teasing the sensitive flesh as though it were delicious. Michael flinched and squeezed her eyes shut. This was very different from anything in her experience—almost beyond erotic. Was he this deliberate and focused with all the women he had slept with? If she let herself go, they would be fused, completely joined as one. His mouth and tongue were sensual extensions of the man and her breasts and belly were too eager.

  Michael begged him to stop.

  Hudson obeyed, releasing her and lifted his face to hers. The expression on his handsome face was so open and vulnerable that Michael felt she was looking into his very soul. More powerfully drawn to him in that moment then she’d ever been with any man, she gently pressed her mouth to his, her tongue slipping inside his warmth, until they were fused together.

  “Hudson,” she gasped when they broke apart. “I want you. I want to make love to you. How much longer are you going to make me wait? What’s holding you back?”

  His words garbled in his throat. “You. You’re sitting on my legs.”

  She awkwardly clambered off the sofa, feeling clumsy and out of her depth. Hudson followed her with considerably more grace, even pausing to coolly pick up her nightie and his pajamas.

  “Your room or mine?” she asked.

  Hudson dropped the clothing and scooped her up in his arms. He marched down the hall and kicked open the door of his room for an answer. “We’re back where we started, Miss Shannon.”

  Inside, behind the closed door, the snow-tossed winter night drew around them.

  HUDSON HELD Michael in his arms, suspended in a moment more intimate than he believed was possible between two people. It was so quiet and still that he could hear her breathing. His eyes found hers in the shadows and she met his gaze fully. Hudson set her down on her feet. They stood for several minutes, unwilling to tear themselves away, holding each other in a shared look that was deeper than the deepest kiss.

  He cupped her cheek in his palm and she responded to his caress. It seemed to Hudson that being with her like this ... what was happening between them ... it couldn’t be real. This couldn’t really be happening....

  And then he knew the real reason he couldn’t marry Zoë.

  The words came from somewhere—in his voice. “I’m falling in love with you.”

  “You mustn’t,” she whispered. “The only way I can do this if I know you’re going to be okay when I leave—because I’m in love you too, Hudson. I love you too much to hurt you.”

  Hudson pushed her down on the bed; strangely more aggressive with her than he’d ever had been with a woman. He loved her and she loved him and they were never going to see each other again. She’d go back to New York and he’d go back to the forest. Angry and hot for her, Hudson fastened his lips to hers and kissed her like he was sealing their fate—a deep, hard, take-no-prisoners kiss. Her nails clawed his back and her body wriggled under his. He slid his calloused hand down, feathering over the stiff bush of hair between her thighs. “Is this all we want from each other then?” he asked, fingering the slick, pliable bud between her vulva.

  “No, but—” Michael gasped and arched her back. “It is all we can have.”

  “Then I’m taking it all, Michael. I’m taking every piece of you
tonight. I love you and if I can’t have you, then tonight you are mine.”

  “I love you, Hudson. I know I love you too. My God, you are beautiful,” she breathed.

  Their bodies moved against each other, hard and soft, rough and silky, in perfect union. With his lips fastened on hers, pinning her to the bed, Hudson explored every delicious cove and hollow of her being. His fingers plunged into the hot giving flesh between her thighs until she lifted and he could feel the orgasm shuddering through her body. Fluid gushed from her womb, signaling her readiness to receive his cock. His voice was in her ear, coaxing, instructing, offering praise, and then he was between her legs, inside her. Hudson growled his pleasure with each rhythmic thrust, giving more of his soul to this woman than he ever had before. His thoughts were scrambled, rushed, darting through his consciousness like fireflies, but one feeling shone clear: the moment Hudson entered her, something changed. They were different now. The change was in every look touch, every touch, every caress....

  He controlled himself, determined through sheer force of will to drag out the experience. Michael seemed to melt beneath him, stretching her arms over head to grasp the iron railings of the headboard, more passionate than any woman he’d known. Was she just made this way or was he the cause of this abandonment?

  “I’ve never—!” she gasped, answering his unspoken question. “I’ve never felt this way before—is it always like this? Hudson, I feel like I’m going mad.”

  “Then I’m going with you. Oh sweet hell, Michael ... it’s never been like this before for me either.”

  And then he was lost, driving into her with a fire he couldn’t control, her body taking him stroke for stroke, until he threw his head back, wailing his release. She arched with him, her power and surrender fused in one sharp, ethereal cry.

  Hudson dropped over her, panting, his body shaking with aftershocks until he felt it was safe to move. She held him in silence while they caught their breath. Then he rolled off her, stretching at her side, his hands lingering over her belly and tangling in her hair. Michael’s eyes were closed but the curves around her mouth conveyed bliss. He drew her close to him, wanting to hold her. A new and disturbing feeling. In Hudson Grace’s world the rules of sexual engagement were made clear at the outset. Sex was sex, nothing more, and he just had sex with a woman who not only knew the rules, but probably wrote them. So why spoil it with sentiment?

  Why did he have to ruin their last night together by telling her he was falling in love? He didn’t say it to get her into bed. She was practically racing him here. Michael was the most honest woman he’d ever met. She knew what she wanted and she didn’t play games to get it.

  “Hudson?” she murmured sleepily.

  “Hmm?”

  Her stomach gurgled loudly. “I’m starving.”

  “You can’t be. You ate two sandwiches, a banana, three doughnuts and drank a vat of wine.”

  “Surely not a vat.” Her stomach gurgled again. “I have to keep my strength up. You said you were going to take everything from me tonight. You’re not finished with me yet, are you?”

  Hudson vaulted from the bed. “I’ll be right back.” He made for the kitchen, excited and in hell at the same time. If this is what love felt like, he told himself grimly, it was damn a good thing she was leaving before things got worse.

  There was a sudden tightening in his stomach. The thought of Michael leaving, wrenched a piece of him, deep inside.

  Maybe things were already worse.

  Chapter XI: Eleven Pipers Piping

  MICHAEL WOKE to a brilliant white world blanketed in glittering fresh snow. It was the sound of the plow truck that woke her and not the alarm. They had overslept.

  Michael listened to the arrival of Tuesday morning and the final day of her community service. Hudson moved in the bed beside her, rolling over to meet her eyes. They were silent and solemn with each other. She understood why. Hudson felt as she did—that love was wonderful and they were glad they experienced it at last, but the joke was on them. They had fallen in love with the one person they could not be with. Her life was in New York and Hudson’s was in Mandrake Falls. Last night was a fantasy. But morning had dawned and harsh winter light was streaming into Hudson’s bedroom. And she was leaving tonight.

  “People say love conquers all,” he said, reading her mind. He reached for her and she curled into his arms.

  “We’d need a Christmas miracle to conquer this,” she sighed. “I don’t want to spend our last day together hoping for something that isn’t going to happen. I better go before Simon wakes up. I don’t want to confuse him, okay?”

  Hudson kissed her bruised mouth one final time and released her. She rose from the bed, pulling one of Hudson’s tee-shirts over her naked body and slipped from the room. Their clothing was still in a heap in the hall where Hudson had dropped them last night. Michael scooped them up and scurried to her room, closing the door quietly behind her. Simon was still asleep, judging from the silence in the cabin.

  She leaned against her bedroom door with a sob. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smeared and her body felt pummelled as though she’d been massaged by Vikings. A night of sex with Hudson had rendered her to a puddle of weak flesh. And something she had never experienced before—divine happiness. Michael was happy and the news astonished her considering the reason for her happiness was a man who preferred trees to high society and snowshoes to the stock market. And—and—oh!—there were a host of reasons why it wouldn’t work with Hudson Grace!

  “So get your weak flesh showered and dressed and give Simon his breakfast. The show must go on, Miss Shannon.” Michael pulled on her robe and opened the door with a weary sigh, then slipped down the hall to the bathroom.

  HUDSON LAY in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He’d broken several of his personal rules of engagement last night and he was pretty sure he’d broken a few of the State’s as well. Whether or not he was officially her supervisor, he had no business sleeping with Michael Shannon. He wasn’t worried she would lodge a complaint against him—far from it. But he was bothered that he’d violated his personal code of conduct, troubled that he had lost control of the situation last night. He had no intention of sleeping with her. But that kiss undid him. There was no going back after that kiss.

  There was a tap at his door. Simon was awake. “Come in, buddy.” Hudson sat up as Simon burst into the room. His nephew vaulted onto the bed with a laugh. “Somebody sounds happy,” Hudson said with a grin.

  “Today we go to daycare,” Simon crowed.

  “We go to daycare every day, bud.”

  “No! Kikel is coming wif de snack today!”

  Damn. Hudson forgot Michael was on duty today at Simon’s daycare and then she was off to the theater to oversee the rehearsal. He wouldn’t get a minute alone with her before she returned to New York. Hudson met Simon’s happy blue stare. “What do you say we surprise Michael by getting dressed before she does?”

  Simon scrambled from the bed, his pajamas riding high above his ankles. They were too small for him. Thanks to Michael, he actually noticed stuff like that now.

  It was just one of the many, many things he was going to miss about her.

  ~

  THE DAYCARE was located in the church basement. The vibrant brightly lit space was already filled with children when Michael arrived with Simon in tow. Helen came toward them, enthusiasm radiating from her face. Michael crooked a brow only half believing the woman’s cheer. How could anyone be that enthusiastic about minding a dozen inarticulate tots? But she was also relieved to know Simon spent his days with someone who loved her job.

  “Miss Shannon! You’re here! Isn’t that exciting, children?”

  The room full of avid little faces looked in Michael’s direction and they wailed approval. Simon hugged Michael’s leg. She looked down. “What’s up, Simon?”

  Simon nodded and pressed his finger to his mouth. “You’re my mommy today, wite?”

  His words were garbled eve
n more than usual because of the finger but Michael understood what he was asking and it clutched at her heart. “Yes, today I’m Simon’s mommy.”

  “Okay!” Laughing, Simon took her hand and dragged her to the kitchen. “All de boys help de mommy’s wif snack.”

  “Well, I guess if all the boys do it then you should do it too.”

  Helen smiled. “Go ahead, Miss Shannon. I’ll talk to you about the plan for the day when you get back.”

  Several harried minutes later, Michael had the snack of fruit, and cheese and crackers ready to go. She looked over the tray with misgiving. She had miscalculated how much cheese to bring and had to cut the slices progressively thinner so there was enough to go around. She hoped the kids wouldn’t object. To think some women did this every day! The whole duty parent thing wasn’t as easy as Michael had originally thought, but it was done, with clear plastic film over the platter, and juice and cups standing by, waiting for snack time.

  “What now, Simon?”

  The little boy looked up at her joyously. “We play wif paint!”

  Oh God. Michael ran her hand protectively over the cream Donna Karan shift she was wearing. She had wound her hair into a smooth chignon and donned low heels for the day. This was her sophisticated Teacher Look. She hadn’t factored in painting when she chose it. Surely there was some decorum—a set of rules three-year-old painters had to abide by?

  “Oh good,” said a frazzled and paint-bombed Helen when they returned from the kitchen. “You’re here. I wonder if you would mind taking over at the craft center while I supervise the playhouse.”

  Michael heard a group of kids scream from a large wooden house in the corner of the room. “No problem,” she urged, profoundly grateful that she wasn’t being asked to head in that direction. She turned to the assembled painters. “What are we working on today?”

  “Finger paints!” Simon yelled.