Connor polished off the juice and dropped the carton into the recycle bin. When the container hit the bottom of the bin, he realized something better had come along. Faith had come along.
“Have a seat. I’ll be right out!” she called from the bedroom.
No stopping the smile that inched across his face, so he didn’t bother trying. He moved through the kitchen to his small living room, but before he could collapse into his recliner, he froze solid.
The bedroom doorway was directly across from the living room, and since she had just opened the door, he could see what she’d been up to.
She strolled out of his bedroom wrapped head to toe in two things: red lace and multicolored lights. When he managed to drag his eyes from her see-through bra, to the scrap of panties barely covering her, he spotted the pair of tall, black high-heeled shoes. Those long legs got longer as she took steps to meet him. Then stood eye to eye with him. Eye to fucking eye. No need to move his head down even the few inches that normally separated them. Just her navy blues and the glow of red, green, and white bulbs against the surface of her very smooth skin, highlighting every inch of her perfectly toned, slim body.
She grinned at him, pleased with herself. She should be. He was going to have to excuse himself to pick his jaw off the floor. She’d tied her hair into a braid, and the length of it lay over her shoulder like a rope. The end of it was decorated with a red ribbon. He lifted the end of the braid and fiddled with the strands.
“I wanted you to associate the holiday with something positive,” she said, her voice husky. “So…”
“So.” It was the only syllable he could get out of his clogged throat. He dropped the braid and palmed her back. Instantly, she put her arms around his neck. He liked that. Liked that she liked to touch him. That she’d done this for him. That she was here and had decorated his drab apartment—and herself—like a Macy’s department store window. He was a lucky guy.
Softly, her lips brushed his and his eyes sank closed. Then he pushed her a few inches away from him. “Much as I wanna touch you, Cupcake, you gotta let me look.” His voice was gravelly and low.
She backed up a step and held out her arms. Draped in light, nipples peaked and nearly punching through the scant amount of material that made up her bra…God. Gorgeous.
He shook his head. All he wanted to do was look at her. Well, look at her and touch her. Touch her and feel her undulate beneath him like silk in the wind. Come together the way they always did, in a crush of expelled breath and unrivaled intensity.
But first. The lace. His eyes returned to her bra.
“I like you in red.”
“Yeah?” She beamed, and not just because she was dressed head to toe in Christmas lights.
“Yeah. Come here.”
Obeying, she clipped over to him and suddenly the setting was wrong. His apartment, a cold backdrop for the warmth he felt for her. Well, they’d have to make their own heat. Raising her arm, he began uncoiling the strands she’d worn for him.
“I decorated your bedroom.”
He kissed the inside of her wrist and, for the first time, looked past her into his room. His bed was made, his black comforter pulled over the sheets. The headboard was strewn with white twinkle lights bound with red ribbon at the posts.
That was where she belonged. Beneath those lights. Spread across the blanket, the darkness a contrast to her beautiful pale skin and fair hair. Careful not to tangle her more, he pulled the strands of lights from her arm, from around her slim waist, from around the small swells of her thighs. He bent to his knees to slip the lights from around her legs and pull off her tall shoes. When she lifted one foot, he kissed the inside of her knee, teased the delicate flesh behind her knee with his tongue.
She sucked a breath through her teeth, sensitive to his touch.
“Ribbon on the bed’s giving me ideas,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.
“Me too. But I don’t guess you’d let me tie you down.”
He stood, skimming his palms up her silken legs the entire way. Heaven help him. They went all the way to her throat. “No, Cupcake, I tie you down, not the other way around.”
She clamped on to his shirt and tugged his mouth to hers. “Kinky.” She gave him a kiss, hard, forcing her tongue into his mouth. He accepted, spearing his fingers into her hair and destroying the braid she’d bound it in.
“Later,” he managed, pulling her mouth from his. “Tonight, I want your hands on me. Cupcake, what I’m about to do to you…”
Her eyes went dark and wide, her mouth dropped open, not in shock, but in thrill. She wanted that. Wanted him. He scooped her into his arms, tossing the remainder of the lights to the floor and carrying her to his bed. He dropped her onto the bed with a bounce. She laughed, head tossed back, cheeks rosy, lips pink.
Damn. How’d he get so lucky?
Without removing a single piece of her clothing, he sank onto the bed, pressed his lips to hers, and kissed her long and slow. Kissed her until her fingernails abraded the back of his neck, until her breathy moans filled his mouth, until her hands began tugging at his shirt.
She wrestled with his belt buckle next as he continued torturing them both with deep, slow, wet kisses. On a breath, she whispered his name.
“Yeah, Cupcake,” he said, giving her a break from his assault.
Fingertips slid down his jaw. “You’re teasing me.”
“Yeah. We’re not rushing.” He slid a finger over her bra and traced her nipple through the lace. Her back arched, eyebrows pinching as she squeezed her eyes closed. “You’re my present,” he told her, tracing the nipple again. She emitted a soft “ooh.” He grinned and whispered against her lips. “I’m taking my time unwrapping you.”
Those navy eyes popped open, something undeniably sweet in their depths. Like he’d flattered her by suggesting she was a gift. Rather than say more, he put his face against her neck and began his descent there.
Licking, nipping, and kissing every inch of her until she squirmed and begged and pleaded. Even then, he didn’t stop.
* * *
She might hyperventilate and die. Yes. Possibly die.
The word “please” had left her lips about twelve times. Her body was damp, her skin chilled from the open-mouthed kisses Connor had left on every inch of her body. From the trail he’d forged from collarbone to pelvic bone with his mouth. He shoved her panties to the side and delighted her with his tongue, sweeping it along her center and making her claw at the comforter and beg some more.
This would not do.
“How many you want?” Mouth at the sensitive flesh on her inner thigh, his breath was hot, his voice muffled.
“I want you inside me.”
“Not what I asked.”
Dragging his lips over the lace panties, he bit the material and let it go. She was so ready, so swollen with need, even that slight snap made her buck. His fingers clasped onto the skinny straps at the side of her panties and dragged them over her hips, past her thighs, to her knees. He unhooked one leg and dropped the other over his shoulder, leaving the scrap of material dangling from her ankle.
“Mmm,” he said, close, so close now to touching her. She was utterly bared to him. Open. And she wanted his mouth on her, wanted the release he promised. “How many?” He slicked his tongue over her center in the softest way.
She cried out, unable to keep from lifting her hips. He released her and she managed, “One. One is fine. Please.”
What had he done to her? She had never in her life begged for a man to be between her legs, but Connor, who prided himself in his abilities—and good night, nurse, did he have a lot of bedroom abilities—was so good at taking her up and over, she’d become shameless.
“Connor, please, I’m dying.” See? Shameless.
His chuckle reverberated over her and she squirmed again. “Not yet you’re not.”
Just as she was about to argue again, he buried his face in her most personal place and tore an orgasm out of
her in record time. The release felt so good, she opened wider to him. When she did, he devoured her with renewed commitment, dragging a second, then a third climax from the depths.
As she pulsed and twisted beneath him, his lips left her. He climbed her body and, before she could open her eyes, sank his cock in to the hilt. Nothing felt better than him inside her. Nothing. Wrapping her legs around his back, she admired his bare chest, unsure when he’d taken his shirt off. She ran her fingers around the tat on his bicep, grasped the sheer strength of his arms, his muscles popping as he held himself over her and slid out and in again, deeper than before.
The man was a god. Therefore, she cried out the name.
He kissed her neck, suckling the sensitive flesh there and driving into her with so much force, she pulsed again immediately. This time when she came, it rocketed through each of her limbs, causing her to pinch her brows together and scream out, mouth open, breath ragged.
Screaming orgasm. A first for her.
His release was on the cusp of hers, and he wasn’t much quieter than she’d been. Low, guttural, sexy male groans sounded in her ear and were drowned in her hair. When he stopped moving, he dragged his mouth down her chest, yanked back the bra she was still wearing, and pulled a nipple onto his tongue.
Her hands went to stop him, unable to take another attack on her very sensitive nerve endings, but he stayed inside her, continued suckling, then reached up and pinched her other nipple. Unable to keep a last orgasm at bay, her cries overtook her. He plunged deeper, suckling, pinching.
Voice lost, she gasped, shuddered so much she feared she might fall apart. Only then did he let up, did he move that hand from her nipple to her throat, where he tugged her neck to his waiting lips. Their breaths eased, mingling in the silence of the room.
He kissed her skin one last time, nipped her earlobe, and spoke. “Say it with me, Cupcake.”
When he pulled out, they emitted a moan in tandem. Every time he entered her, every time he exited her, they were together. Right there. On the same wavelength, bodies and souls intertwined. Shared breath, shared everything.
Like the world stopped and started on their marks.
Propped on his forearms over her, he stayed in that position for a long while—lips resting on her neck, fingers stroking her hair at the temples. He raised his head finally and watched her. She picked out the flecks of green and gold in his eyes, glinting in the twinkle lights over her head.
With a gentle shake of his head and a twitch of his mouth that might have been a small smile, he left her and wandered down the hallway to the bathroom.
Faith rolled to her side, put a fingernail into her mouth, and chewed.
Something happened just now.
Something big.
Something she was not ready for.
CHAPTER 18
I know I’m supposed to be your calming force in the face of the pressure of the toy drive at your house but I’m not very calm right now and I kind of need you.” Faith said the words in one long breath as she blew into the library office at the mansion.
Sofie, with barely any time to react, lifted her head as her pen halted over her desk calendar. Her mouth formed a perfect “O.” After several seconds, she blinked. “Honey, what happened?”
Faith stuck her head out of the doorway of the library, saw no sexy men traipsing through the foyer, and shut the door. She wrung her hands and collapsed on the red velvet couch in the center of the room. Sofie joined her.
“This is not normal sex,” Faith whispered. “Sex should be like…like…like any other body function. Like breathing. Inhale, exhale. Or…or, like that runner’s high people who exercise say they feel.”
Sofie quirked her lips. “I never feel that. Though, I don’t run.”
“Me neither.” Head leaning back on the sofa, Faith turned to face her friend. “But you know what I mean. Your body is meant to act, then react. It should act, then react appropriately. Sex is a physical act. It should be limited to your body’s physical presence.” She sat up, put her elbows on her knees, and dropped her face into her hands. Her next words came out slightly garbled since she was pressing her palms to her cheeks. “He makes me feel things in parts other than my physical parts.”
Sofie’s hand landed on her back and begin to circle. Rubbing, consoling.
Faith lifted her head. “Don’t tell me what I think you’re going to tell me.”
“Okay. I won’t tell you I think you are falling in love with the sexiest landscaper I’ve ever met.”
“I can’t, Sofe. I cannot even.” Faith felt her chest hollow out at the words. She stood and held her arms around her waist, pacing in front of the crackling fireplace, the flames low but warm. “You know Michael destroyed me. You know what believing in a future did to me.”
The only way to safeguard against that kind of bone-deep hurt was to live in the now, not the future. Being independent meant counting on no one other than herself. At one point, she’d had a vision of her future. Not just the wedding, but growing old with someone at her side. She was determined to live in the “now,” but Connor was making it difficult to stay in the present. If Faith let herself, she could easily start having all those future thoughts about him.
Sofe shook her head. “I don’t see a woman who looks destroyed, honey. I see a woman in a great pantsuit—Ann Taylor?”
“Calvin Klein.”
“Nice.” After a nod of appreciation, her friend continued. “I think he makes you happy. And I think he is probably as gone for you as you are for him and neither of you will admit it.”
That couldn’t be true. Faith couldn’t let it be true. “It’s the holiday. Or the fact that he’s really good in bed.”
“How good?”
She delivered the truth like it was bad news. “Unparalleled.”
Sofie pursed her lips. “Hmm. Well, okay…you know what?” She stood from the couch with such determination, Faith knew she had a solution she wouldn’t strangle her for offering.
“What?” She clasped her hands together so tight her fingertips went numb. “Tell me. What?”
“Enjoy it, Faith. You said he told you to be ‘all in’ while you’re together. So stay in the present. Be ‘all in’ in the moment. Doesn’t mean you have to move in together or get married or have babies.”
“That’s essentially what he said.” Faith’s laugh was a little weak, but she’d admit to relief.
“Remember what you told me last year? You told me the power to walk away is all the power I needed.”
With a sigh, she reminded Sofie: “You didn’t stay away.”
“No. I didn’t. But I could have.”
Back at her apartment, Faith thought about what Sofie said as she got ready for the toy drive. The same hollow-chest sensation returned. The power to walk away. Was that what she had? She wasn’t feeling all that powerful at the moment.
Standing in her bathroom, she was digging for a bottle of perfume in the linen closet when she knocked over a box of tampons. While scooping them back into the box and cursing herself for being clumsy, that’s when it hit her. When was her last period? She frowned as she stood, closed the linen closet door, and bit her lip.
A…while.
A little while.
Nothing to be overly concerned about—her cycle wasn’t like clockwork anyway. She pushed the thought to the back of her head and continued getting ready for the massive soiree that was the toy drive tonight.
Her new black dress awaited, and a new coat and scarf. And new lingerie. Also in black. Black lace. Though she did opt for padding in her bra tonight. She knew Connor didn’t care either way, but for the dress to work, she needed the help.
Yep. That’s all she was going to think about the rest of the evening. Her sexy underwear, her hot date who would be wearing a tuxedo tonight, and the fact that she was living in the now. In the moment.
Not in the past, where she may have missed her period. Not in the future, where she’d probably start anyw
ay and not have to worry.
Only now.
* * *
The First Annual Evergreen Cove Toy Drive was just about to begin. Connor had not seen Faith yet, and he’d been here for about half an hour. The majority of the Cove’s upper crust was in attendance and had congregated in the ballroom.
Donovan strolled into the foyer from that direction, eyes wide with alarm. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, similar to Connor’s, a bow tie knotted at his neck. “Did you know Mayor Thompson is here? The mayor. In my house.”
“You’ve come a long way, man.” He thumped his buddy’s shoulder solidly. Donny had once toilet-papered the man’s house. “Hey, where is Sofe? I haven’t seen Faith yet. I assume they’re together.”
“They disappeared upstairs an hour ago. I haven’t seen her since. She left me in charge of all of the bigwigs.” He shook his head. “Not a good idea. I’m not exactly a people person.”
Connor repressed a chuckle. His friend may not have been much of a people person before he reunited with Sofie, but as the owner of a thirty-five-room historical mansion that was often the site of charity functions as well as an annual summer campout for abused kids, Donovan was starting to look a lot like a guy who was the very definition of “a people person.”
“I need a beer,” Donovan said. “Only thing in there is champagne. Nasty.”
“No whiskey shooters being served?”
“Too highfalutin for that.”
Connor opened his mouth to say what, he didn’t even know, because a flash of bright pink drew his attention to the top of the stairs. And to Faith—the one who was dripping in a sea of pink. She looked…God.
Sexy. Elegant. Incredible.
“It’s not too much. You look beautiful.” Sofie’s voice echoed down the stairs.
“I just don’t know what I was thinking when I bought it,” Faith replied, her hushed tone drifting down the stairs. “It’s like a prom dress or a—”
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