“Is that a challenge?” he asked, starting up the first flight.
“Of course it’s not a challenge. It’s a reasonable statement and a legitimate concern for your physical well-being.”
“I promise, I won’t be too tired when we reach the bed to remember why we’re there.”
“I wasn’t—” She huffed out a breath. “Never mind.”
If he was determined to carry her, why should she object to the ride? And truthfully, she quite enjoyed being held in strong arms, cradled against the hard muscles of his hot body.
Despite her extensive dating history, she’d never known another man who made her insides quiver with just a look. Who made her knees weak with the flash of a smile.
It had been a purely physical attraction in the beginning—she hadn’t known Liam well enough for it to be anything more. But working in close proximity with him over the past few weeks, she’d been pleased to discover that she also liked and respected the man who was her boss.
“Fifty-two,” he announced, as he unlocked the door.
The room was dark, but he was familiar enough with the layout to navigate it without turning on a light. He carried her through the sitting room and past the bathroom to the bedroom before setting her on her feet. He bypassed the lamps in favor of the fireplace, creating light, heat and ambiance with the press of a button. Then he located the box of long wooden matches and turned his attention to the fat pillar candles lined up in a row along the mantel. Candles he’d bought when he went with her to the antique and craft market.
She wouldn’t have thought he was the type to waste time with such romantic trappings. She certainly didn’t want or need romance. She didn’t want or need to pretend this night was anything more than two people succumbing to their long-denied attraction.
While he finished lighting the candles, she lowered herself onto the edge of the mattress, her hands folded in her lap. She was admittedly a little nervous and uncertain. Not about making love with Liam. She had no doubt that was what she wanted, but it was the details that eluded her.
What to do next.
Apparently he didn’t suffer from the same uncertainty. He knelt on the floor between her knees and lifted one of her booted feet into his hands. “All night, I’ve been wondering what you’d look like wearing these boots and nothing else.”
“I can’t imagine how I’d look—”
“Sexy,” he interjected.
“—but I’d probably feel ridiculous.”
“We’ll take them off, then,” he decided, tugging on the zipper pull.
She was wearing tights, of course, because it was early spring in northern Nevada and the nights were still frigidly cold. But the slow, sensual glide of his knuckle along the inside of her calf as he dragged the pull downward made her skin heat, burn.
He drew the first boot off her foot and set it aside, then repeated the same shockingly sensuous process with the second. Then he lifted both feet into his hands. His thumbs stroked the sensitive inside arches, then skimmed over the tops to her ankles.
“Do you have a foot fetish?” she asked, a little breathlessly.
He chuckled softly. “I have a Macy fetish. I want to touch and see and taste every inch of you tonight.”
While he spoke, those clever hands continued their exploration, over her knees and under her skirt, along the insides of her thighs.
He eased down the waistband of her tights. She lifted up off the bed to assist him, though her muscles, already quivering from his touch, trembled with the effort.
“Maybe I should help with some of your clothes,” she offered.
“Let’s just focus on you right now.”
“As I recall, this was my idea,” she pointed out to him. “So I don’t see why you get to call all the shots.”
“This might have seemed like your idea tonight,” he acknowledged. “But it’s been my fantasy for weeks, months. Since the first time I saw you.”
“Maybe I’ve been fantasizing about this, too.”
“Have you?”
She realized she’d backed herself into a corner. If she confessed that she had, he’d no doubt want to hear about her fantasies in explicit detail. If she denied that she had, he’d take that as justification to control every step of their lovemaking.
So she only responded by kissing him—long and slow and deep. Teasing him with her lips and tongue and teeth.
“You make me crazy.” He muttered the confession into her mouth as his hands traced the curves of her body over her dress. “I want you naked, now, and I can’t find a zipper anywhere on this damn dress.”
She laughed softly, though the sound was a little strained by her own desperation. “There is no zipper.”
“Then how the hell did you get it on? And, far more important right now, how the hell am I supposed to get it off?”
She stood up, praying that her wobbly legs would support her, and reached for the hem of her skirt.
“I wish I’d thought to put on music,” Liam said. “Because watching you wiggle is just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She finished drawing the garment over her head and let it fall to the floor.
“Correction,” he said, his eyes moving over her body in a slow visual caress. “The second sexiest thing.”
She blushed at the implication that she was the sexiest, grateful that the muted light from the fire didn’t spotlight her stretchmarks or scar.
He finally yanked off his own boots and jacket, then added his jeans and shirt to the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor. As they tumbled onto the mattress together, their mouths met, mated. Their bodies arched, yearned.
His hands stroked her skin, stoked her desire. He cupped her breasts in his palms, his thumbs circling the aching peaks through the silky fabric of her bra. She’d wondered if nursing her babies would decrease the sensitivity of her nipples. It appeared the answer was a clear and resounding no. Because, when he finally brushed his thumbs over the peaks, sharp, shocking arrows of pleasure speared from the tips to her core.
When he lowered his head to replace his hand with his mouth, suckling her through the fabric barrier, she nearly came apart right then and there. When he pushed the strap of her bra off her shoulder and freed her breast from the constraint, the sensation of his mouth, hot and wet, on her bare skin, did make her come apart.
As she continued to shudder with the aftershocks of her release, he made his way down her body. Kissing and licking, nibbling and sucking. He paused at her navel, his fingertip tracing along the horizontal line a few inches below it.
“My C-section scar,” she confided.
“Does it hurt?”
She shook her head. “No.”
He pressed his lips to her belly button, then the scar, then continued his downward trajectory.
She felt anticipation building inside her again, and when his tongue brushed against the ultrasensitive nub, she found herself teetering on the brink of another climax. But she wanted him with her this time, so she reached between their bodies and wrapped her hand around him. His groan vibrated through her.
“I’m not finished down here yet,” he protested.
“I want you inside me.”
He started to rise up, over her, then paused. “I didn’t plan for this to happen tonight, so please tell me the basket of amenities in the bathroom has been checked and restocked.”
“Every day,” she assured him.
“In that case—” he pressed a quick kiss to her lips “—I’ll be right back.”
He slipped away, and Macy knew that if she was going to change her mind, this was her best chance to do it.
But she didn’t want to change her mind.
She wanted this.
Wanted him.
Sure, she had some reservations, because she knew that
once they were intimate, everything would change. Or maybe everything had already changed. Already she knew that she’d never felt about anyone the way she felt about Liam.
Working side by side with him over the past few weeks, her feelings had continued to deepen and grow. She’d observed many of his different moods: happy, annoyed, frustrated, amused. She’d seen him with his family, noted the obvious bond he shared with each of his siblings, the easy affection that characterized his relationship with his grandparents, his evident adoration of his young niece. And though he tried to pretend otherwise, she could tell that he was deeply troubled by the tension that had grown between him and his father. He was a man of many facets and every single one of them appealed to her.
“Now...where was I?” he asked, returning to the bedroom with two foil packets in hand.
“You were going to open one of those, put it on you and then put you in me.”
His lips curved in response to her concise instructions. “So you want me to climb on top and get right to it?”
“Did you hear what I said downstairs? It’s been a really long time for me, so there’s no need to waste any more time on foreplay.”
“Do you feel as if I’ve been wasting your time?” he asked, sounding more amused than insulted as his hands continued to move over her, making her sigh with pleasure, squirm with need. “Are you suggesting that you’re not enjoying this?”
“You know I am.”
“Then relax and let yourself enjoy,” he suggested, just before he captured her nipple in his mouth again, swirling his tongue around the peak, making her moan.
He took her to the precipice again, and left her teetering on the edge while he rose up over her, spreading her knees farther apart and positioning himself between them. He nudged at her opening, testing, teasing. She lifted her hips, a wordless plea that he answered by burying himself deep inside her.
She gasped with shock, with pleasure, as the glorious friction of his invasion created a storm of sensation, enormous waves of pleasure crashing down on her again...and again...and again.
Finally, when she was certain she couldn’t survive the barrage any longer, he linked their hands together and let the waves carry him away with her.
* * *
It was a long time later before she became aware of the weight of his body sprawled over hers, pinning her against the luxurious mattress. She knew her body would probably feel stiff and achy in the morning, but she didn’t care. Because every muscle twinge tomorrow would be a reminder of the incredible pleasure he’d given her tonight.
Liam finally gathered up the strength to roll off her, though he didn’t move away. After another minute, he broke the silence to ask, “Are there any guests below this room?”
“Not tonight,” she told him.
“That’s good. I wouldn’t want my manager to have to field noise complaints about the wild guests in Wild Bill’s Suite.”
Heat rose up her neck and into her cheeks. “I’m not usually... I mean, I never...well, not never but...okay, I’m going to shut up now.”
He chuckled softly and brushed his lips against hers. “No, don’t. I want to hear what you were going to say.”
“I’ll bet you do.”
“You never...” he prompted.
“I’ve never...been particularly vocal before,” she confided. “I’ve never...really lost control—certainly not like that—before.”
His smile was satisfied. “I liked watching you lose control,” he told her. “Whoever would have imagined that the tidy, efficient and organized Macy Clayton would be so uninhibited in the throes of passion?”
“Not me,” she admitted. “I wasn’t sure I believed the throes of passion even existed.”
“Are you a believer now?”
“I think I might need just a little more convincing.”
“Well, we do have one condom left,” he said.
She felt a spark of arousal flicker through her body. “That would be a good start.”
* * *
Macy knew she’d never be able to walk through the doors of this suite again without a smile curving her lips and erotic memories flooding her mind and teasing her body. The hours she’d spent here with Liam had been a perfect fantasy in so many ways, but now it was time to get back to reality—and her reality wasn’t a sexy man and a luxurious hotel room but a basement apartment where three babies waited for her.
This brief interlude from the reality of her life had been fun, but it was only an interlude.
She nudged her elbow into Liam’s ribs.
He grunted in protest.
“You can’t fall asleep,” she told him.
“I’m pretty sure I can,” he countered in a drowsy voice.
“Let me rephrase,” she said. “I don’t want you to fall asleep.”
“I’m flattered, but I’m definitely going to need some time to recuperate before we go another round.”
She elbowed him again, a little harder this time.
His eyes stayed closed, but his lips curved as he wrapped his arm around her and drew her back against his body, nuzzling her throat, making her shiver.
“I can’t stay,” she told him, sincerely regretful.
“I know.”
“And since Uber hasn’t yet found its way to Haven, I’m going to need a ride home.”
“I know,” he said again. “But I’m not ready to let go of you just yet.”
Whether she cuddled with him for another minute or two or ten, this night was only a stolen moment out of her ordinary life, and it was already over.
She hadn’t expected that getting naked with him would magically transform their relationship. They were at completely different stages in their lives, looking for different things. Except that tonight they’d wanted the same thing. And that want had proven stronger than everything else.
She wouldn’t trade Ava, Max and Sam for anything in the world, but she couldn’t deny that she’d enjoyed feeling like a woman instead of a mom for a brief while. But she’d told her parents that she wouldn’t be late, and she’d already been gone a lot longer than she’d intended. Plus, Max would inevitably be up early, wanting some cuddle time with his mom before his siblings woke up to demand their breakfast and—
“You’re thinking about your kids, aren’t you?” he guessed.
“Sorry. Occupational hazard.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” he said, but he released her now to climb out of bed and gather up his clothes.
She did the same, more than a little sorry that the night was already at an end.
“How are we going to explain the tangled sheets to housekeeping?” he wondered aloud.
“I’m housekeeping tomorrow,” she reminded him. “And I’ll change the bed first thing.”
“Or I could do it when I get back,” he offered.
“You could try,” she acknowledged. “But the result wouldn’t fool anybody.”
“True enough,” he agreed.
Macy took a quick look around to ensure they hadn’t left anything while he blew out the candles and turned off the fire.
They were mostly silent as they made their way down the stairs to the main lobby, where they’d left their coats. He held hers while she slid her arms into the sleeves. When she lifted her hair to pull it out of the collar of her coat, he touched a hand to the side of her throat.
“You’ve got marks from my beard,” he told her.
She suspected the marks weren’t only on her throat, though she didn’t worry that those other places would be visible to anyone else. “Hopefully they’ll fade before morning.”
“I’m hoping they don’t,” he said, as he led her out to his truck. “Then, when you see them in the mirror, you’ll remember tonight.”
“I don’t think I’m going to forget anytime soon,” she assured
him.
The journey back to her parents’ house was short and silent.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said when he pulled into the driveway. “And...everything.”
“Thank you for everything,” he said, as he killed the engine.
“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” she told him.
“How else am I going to steal a goodbye kiss?”
She knew that she should protest, that despite Bev’s assertion that she wouldn’t wait up, it was entirely possible that her mother wasn’t just awake but watching through her bedroom window. But if Liam walked her to the side door, no one would be able to see him kiss her—and just the thought of one more kiss was enough to make her insides quiver.
The kiss itself liquified her bones and turned her brain to mush. Even after making love with him twice already tonight, her body ached for more, yearned for the fulfillment only he could give her.
“Do me a favor?” He whispered the words close to her ear.
She had to moisten her lips with her tongue before she could respond. “What’s that?”
He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, tracing the plump curve. “Think about me.”
Then he stepped back and waited for her to open the door.
As she slipped inside, Macy knew that she would.
She could hardly do anything else.
Chapter Twelve
Macy’s former supervisor in Las Vegas had often commented on her professionalism. Even when she was confronted by unruly and obnoxious guests, she never lost her cool or raised her voice. She was always a consummate professional.
Until last night—when she’d slept with her boss.
That had been an admittedly unprofessional move, but she wasn’t going to compound it by letting anyone at work know she’d slept with the boss.
Liam gave her a brief nod of acknowledgment when he walked through the door. She hadn’t expected anything more, and yet she found herself wondering what his impersonal greeting meant. Of course, it was possible that it didn’t mean anything, especially as she was busy with Mrs. Hemingway and her daughter, helping to plan their local activities for the day.
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