by Helen Lacey
Holly stared up at him, met his gaze and smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”
His hand moved to her nape, his fingers curling against her skin, and then he pulled her close and kissed her. His tongue was in her mouth, his body was hard, his breathing was ragged and a complete turn on.
She gripped his hips and pulled him closer, feeling his erection through the fabric between them, and a heavy heat settled in her loins. Desire, rampant and consuming, surged through her blood. His tongue was hot and demanding, dancing with hers in a way that was so erotic she could barely suck air into her lungs.
Holly sighed against his mouth and dug her fingers into his back, while his one hand stayed at her nape and his other hand settled on her hip. And he continued to kiss her, angling his mouth one way, and then the other, driving her wild, making her want him with a kind of surging intensity she’d never felt before.
Finally, he wrenched his mouth from hers and looked down into her face.
“Holly…Holly…you drive me crazy.”
She reached up and touched his jaw, felt his hot skin and knew he was as deep into her as she was into him. “Is that a good thing?”
He nodded. “Absolutely.”
She sighed. “Then make love to me.”
They were on the bed in seconds and Marshall was stripping off her underwear. His hands were at her breasts, and then his mouth, toying and teasing her nipples until they were pebble hard and aching for more. His tongue laved her aching flesh and his hand moved lower, caressing her intimately. She was wet and ready for him and impatiently tugged at his zipper, eager to feel his hardness in her hand. But he gently eased her to lay back and trailed his mouth downwards, past her surging breasts, down her ribcage and belly, lingering for a moment at her navel, circling his tongue around the spot in a way that was intensely erotic and almost more than she could stand.
Holly flung her head back and gripped the sheets, knowing his intention as he settled between her thighs and spent the following half an hour bestowing on her the most mind-blowing and intense pleasure she had ever experienced in her life. She writhed, she moaned, she waited again and again as he brought her to the brink and then eased back, teasing her with his tongue and hands until she was gasping his name, begging for release. When it came, when her orgasm shuddered through her, Holly felt as though she was having an out of body experience. It was too much feeling. Too much pleasure.
I love you…
The words rattled on the edge of her tongue, torturing her, but before she could say what was in her heart, his mouth was against her again, tasting, caressing, teasing her in ways she hadn’t known existed.
“Tell me that it’s never been like this for you,” he whispered as he moved up her body, trailing kisses along her abdomen as one hand lingered between her thighs.
Holly groaned at the sensation his fingers created. “Never.”
“For me either, Holly,” he muttered against her skin, sounding half aroused, half agonized. “For me either.”
Holly pushed his trousers and briefs over his hips and he quickly got rid of them the rest of the way. She openly admired him in between gasps and moans of pleasure, reaching for him, encircling his erection with a steady hand. He felt so good and as she rubbed the head with her thumb he moaned low in his throat.
“You kill me, Holly,” he admitted raggedly against her throat.
He moved over her, resting his weight on his forearms, his dark eyes never leaving hers as his erection nudged against her entrance.
“Ditto,” she whispered.
“I guess we don’t have to worry about contraception?”
Holly shook her head. “Not for the foreseeable future.”
He smiled. “Is this okay? You’re not uncomfortable? I’m not hurting you?”
“Not one bit,” she replied.
And then he was inside her. She gripped his hips, driving him closer, waiting for him to move, waiting for the erotic rhythm she knew would shatter them both. He kissed her, his tongue going in deep, and she met every kiss with all the feeling that was in her heart. He moved slowly, thrusting gently, kissing her, his hands in her hair, his mouth and tongue asking and taking and giving such pleasure she felt herself being driven higher and higher. When she climaxed again, the sensation was acute, like stars exploding throughout her entire body. She said his name over and over, felt his back tense, enraptured as his shoulders tightened and his strong body shuddered. He came as he kissed her, his thrusts quickening right before his release ripped through him and then he collapsed against her, breathing hard, his face buried in her neck.
“Holly…” He said her name on a ragged whisper. “Just…hang on to me.”
Her hands settled on his shoulders and she gripped him hard. “I won’t let you go.”
The moment was fraught with intimacy. With vulnerability. With surrender. And in all her life, she had never felt so close to another human being. She stroked his back, tracing her fingernails up and down his spine, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. He eased away from her and rolled a fraction, taking her with him so they were side by side. Mesmerized, Holly stared into his eyes, feeling heat plump at the corners of her own and she blinked a couple of times.
He reached up and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, saying nothing, just creating an intense visual connection that defied belief. After everything they had been through, all the angry words, the resistance, the things that were unsaid, the moment was achingly raw.
“That was incredible,” he said softly.
She nodded, not breaking her gaze. “It certainly was. Amazing.”
“I’m sorry, you know,” he said and swallowed hard. “If the last time we did this, it wasn’t so…I don’t know…” His words trailed off and he sighed. “Intimate. I was done and gone within three hours. What a schmuck.”
Holly smiled and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I like this much better.”
“Me too,” he admitted.
“In your defense,” she said and gently raked her nails over his skin. “You did hold me for a while afterwards.”
His eyes closed for a moment. “You talked about you father. Your brothers.”
She sighed. “I talked to my Dad last week. He wants me to come home.”
His lids sprang back open. “And what do you want to do?”
“I want to stay here,” she replied. “In Mulhany Crossing. I like the small-town life and sense of community. But my father…he’ll never understand and never approve. He’s city through and through.”
“Do you need his approval?” he asked gently.
“No,” she replied. “But I hate disappointing him. I’ve been doing it all my life.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
She shrugged lightly. “My mother left and—”
“Her leaving was not your fault, Holly,” he said and touched her cheek. “Whatever her reasons, they were her own. And maybe the only way you’ll ever know is if you try and find her.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to do that.”
“Then you have to accept that she made a mistake,” he said and stroked her jaw. “But it was hers and hers alone. Perhaps she had depression that wasn’t diagnosed. Or maybe she and you father had problems he’s never acknowledged. Whatever the reason…it’s not your fault.”
“It feels like my fault,” she admitted.
He kissed her deeply. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered again against her mouth.
Her mouth lingered by his. “Thank you. I mean, for trying to protect me and—”
“I always will, Holly,” he said raggedly, his lips hovering over hers. “You’re having my baby…so, that’s my job.”
It was a lovely notion, and in the part of her mind that was filled with love for him, Holly longed to believe him. Longed to romanticize and imagine that he meant every word, and he wasn’t just drowsy and relaxed and experiencing a kind of post-orgasmic lethargy that made him feel emotionally clo
ser to her than he actually was.
“Kiss me,” she muttered, desperate to say something before she did something foolish—like admit that she loved him.
*****
At two o’clock in the morning, Marshall was sitting in Holly’s kitchen, staring at the glass of water cradled between his linked fingers, thinking about how he’d had the most incredible and mind-blowing sex of his life—and wondering how the hell he was supposed to feel about it!
He was confused. Stupidly so. And guilty. And something else…a feeling he couldn’t define…something that had everything to do with the pleasure and joy he’d experienced having sex with Holly. And the fact was, that he didn’t want the night to end. The other thing was, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t compartmentalize his feelings, he couldn’t explain why his head and heart were at such odds. He desired Holly. He longed for her touch, her kiss. And sex with her was intense and at the same time, achingly intimate. Being inside her, feeling her shudder and burn beneath him, hearing her gasp his name as she came apart, was unlike anything he’d experienced.
Yeah…sex with Holly was amazing.
Sex with Holly was like tonic for his shattered soul.
Making love with Holly…
He made the correction in his head and sighed heavily. Because he knew, in his heart, that the connection they had was more than simple physical release. It couldn’t be faked, couldn’t be analyzed and turned into something less than what it was. Which meant one thing. As hard as he’d tried to fight it…as much as the notion twisted him up inside…Marshall knew he had feelings for Holly. Real feelings. Ones that had nothing to do with great sex or the fact she was carrying his child.
“Hey.”
Her voice. He looked up and spotted her in the doorway, wearing his shirt. She was so damned sexy his heart skipped a beat. She rocked his world. Everything about her affected him deep down. Every time she moved, every time she spoke, every time she tossed her hair and smiled. Holly Berrigan was in his blood. And his soul.
“Hi,” he said and held out a hand.
She moved across the room and stood in front of him, taking his hand, before she slipped onto his lap, facing him, her legs wrapping around his thighs. Marshall hardened instantly, feeling her soft body pressed against his, her breasts pushing upward, the valley between them visible where the shirt gaped at the front, the scent of her a powerful aphrodisiac. He kissed her throat, her ear lobe, the sensitive spot at her nape. Then she grasped his chin and tilted his head up.
“Are you alright?” she asked earnestly, her eyes never seeming bluer.
“I’m fine,” he assured her.
“I woke up and you were gone…I thought you’d left.”
He twirled a lock of her hair between his fingertips. “I told you I would stay. Besides,” he said and traced a thumb between her breasts, “you’re wearing my shirt and it’s too cold outside for me to be leaving half-naked.”
She smiled and touched his bare chest. “I like wearing it. And I’m glad you stayed.”
Arousal coursed through his blood as she wriggled against him. She was naked beneath the shirt and it took only seconds for him to free himself from his briefs and position himself inside her. She moaned his name, kissing him hotly as she moved, the rhythm of her hips creating an erotic ride for them both. Marshall gripped her bottom and steadied her, kissing her mouth, feeling the pressure rise with each thrust. She matched his movements, urging him, whispering words into his ear that were so insanely erotic he thought he’d stepped into another dimension. They were words that were for lovers, words that urged and demanded, and he came apart, quickly, agonizingly, barely able to breath, his chest so tight he thought he might pass out for a moment. But she held him, her hands on his shoulders, her mouth against his, her breasts flattened to his chest, and as he climaxed her name left his lips in a ragged groan. It was too much release. Too much feeling. Too much everything. More than he could stand.
“My god, Holly…”
Her hands were in his hair, at his neck, on his back. “I’ve got you,” she whispered.
He gently fisted a handful of her hair and tilted her head back, staring into her eyes, trying to draw breath into his lungs. Her eyes were slumberous, intoxicating, as though she knew exactly what she did to him.
“I’m not sure that much intensity is good for my heart,” he said and managed a wry smile.
She chuckled and placed a palm on his chest. “Oh, but what a way to go.”
He laughed. It felt good. He couldn’t actually remember a time when he’d felt so good. Despite the turmoil running through his head, despite the conflict and guilt, despite the fact they drove each other crazy, she made him smile. She made him…feel.
“We should get some sleep,” he suggested, running his hands down her back.
“We should,” she mused and smiled wickedly. “Or we could take a shower?”
Marshall grinned and got to his feet and held her close, and her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. He walked her back to the bedroom and within minutes they were together in the small shower cubicle, soaping each other, and laughing. She kissed him, he kissed her in return. She caressed him, he did the same to her. They stayed there until the water turned cool and their ribs ached from laughing.
It was good loving, he thought a little while later, once they were dried off and back in bed and she was doing all kinds of things to him with her sweet and seductive mouth. There wasn’t any way for him to describe it other than rapturous torture. He was at her mercy, lost amid a sensual voyage of give and take. Hers, and her alone in that moment. Marshall hadn’t ever imagined he could feel that kind of unadulterated sexual gratification. Holly made love as she lived—with pure passion and honest and raw emotion. It both scared and thrilled him. Because as obtuse as he knew he could be, there was no mistaking what he saw in her eyes when he possessed her again just as the sun rose and a sliver of light appeared through the curtain.
He’d suspected, of course, that she had real feelings for him, even though the acknowledgment made him feel like a conceited ass. But as he’d held her, as she gasped his name over and over, as she shuddered and reached the peak of pleasure, Marshall knew. He just knew.
She’s in love with me…
And as she drifted off to sleep, as her breathing slowed and her beautiful body relaxed, spoon fashion, against him, he knew there was only one thing he could do.
Only one way to make things right.
He closed his eyes, thinking, dreaming, imagining his life like it used to be. Uncomplicated. Regular. Rudimentary. Before Holly. Before he’d been dragged into her world. He dreamed about Lynette. About how she made everything right. About how she relaxed him and didn’t work him up inside. How she knew exactly how to make everything easy. And as he dreamed he felt loss and guilt and shame and every emotion he could possibly feel, because that’s what thinking about Holly did to him.
When he woke up, he was alone.
The sheet beside him was cool and had obviously been vacant for some time. He glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. Ten-fifteen.
Shit.
He’d been asleep for hours. And in Holly’s bed. He pulled himself up and quickly realized he ached all over. His legs. His back. His arms. Even his tongue hurt. He dragged himself into the bathroom and grimaced at the stubble, bleary eyes and rumpled hair. And there were two marks on his neck that looked suspiciously like hickeys.
Marshall groaned, quickly washed his face and pulled on his trousers, shoes and shirt and then headed from the room.
Holly was in the kitchen. Humming. And baking.
She wore a pink apron over cut-off jeans and a bright blue T-shirt. Her hair was up in a ponytail and her feet were bare. She looked young and vibrant and refreshed. Unlike Marshall, who felt about eighty years old and haggard. She was making a cake. Chocolate, by the look of things.
She glanced up when he entered the room, spatula in hand, and smiled. “’Mo
rning sleepyhead.”
“Hi.”
She grabbed a mug. “Coffee?”
He nodded and propped onto one of the counter stools. “You let me sleep?”
She smiled and passed him a steaming mug. “You seemed to need it. I checked on you earlier, but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” She offered a wicked grin. “And you did expend a lot of energy last night. Several times.”
Marshall drank some coffee and prayed for a quick caffeine hit. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“But you’re in good shape.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I really need to get going.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I don’t want to,” he said and sipped his coffee. “But Sam and Levi are coming over to help me with that tree stump in the backyard.” As soon as he spoke, his phone beeped. He pulled it from his pocket and stared at the screen. It was from Levi.
Where the hell are you?
Marshall quickly texted back and said he’d be there in fifteen minutes.
“I gotta’ run,” he said and stood, coming around the counter.
She sucked in a breath and nodded. “Sure, whatever.”
Marshall grasped her chin and tilted her face upwards. “I’ll come back later, okay?”
She licked her lips. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” he assured her and kissed her softly. “Tonight. I want some cake, after all.”
She smiled beneath his mouth. “Who said I’m making it for you?”
“You got some other boyfriend I don’t know about?” he teased, nibbling her ear a little.
He didn’t miss the way she tensed at the casual way he’d used the word boyfriend, and then pulled back and looked directly into her eyes.
She shook her head, her beautiful blue eyes glittering brilliantly. “No.”
Marshall kissed her again for good measure, then again gently on the forehead. “I’ll see you tonight. We need to talk, Holly…I think we both know what about.”