by Meg Benjamin
Not yet, anyway.
He slipped his thumbs through the belt loops on her jeans, pulling her toward him until her breasts were pressed against the warm wall of his chest. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist, taking her lips in a hungry kiss that made her dizzy all over again.
Without thinking, she moved her hands to the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping, then pulling down until she felt the swell of his arousal against her belly. He pushed his jeans to the floor, kicking them out of the way.
“Now you.” He made fast work of the button and zipper, pulling her jeans below her hips so she could push them off herself.
She leaned against him again, resting her forehead on his shoulder, feeling his cock pulse against her.
This is it, kid. This is going to happen.
Hallelujah. She took a deep breath and reached for him.
…
Liam had been trying to force his addled brain to slow down. It was true that Ruth had suggested they move to the bedroom without any particular pressure on his part. But he didn’t want to fall upon her like some ravening beast. Surely he had a little more control than that.
Surely he did.
He was just about to turn her toward the bed when her fingers tightened around his cock. Immediately, she had his full attention.
One hand moved slowly up and down the shaft, tightening ever so slightly as she did. The other hand cupped his sac, squeezing in time with the movement on his cock.
He tried desperately to run through anything that would take his mind off the immediate sensation in his groin. He had a feeling he might lose it if he didn’t. He didn’t try the Gettysburg Address this time, but the recipe for saison helped him hold out for a few minutes. It wasn’t going to work for long.
“Sweet Jesus, that feels good,” he muttered, moving his hands to her belly and down. He rubbed his thumbs along the soft skin at the joining of her legs and her body. His own body was rapidly approaching the point of no return. He slid his fingers into the warmth of her folds, one finger moving into her opening while his thumb flicked across her clit.
Ruth gasped, her body tightening around him. She leaned forward until her forehead touched his chest, her hands dropping away from his arousal. It was a good time to move to the bed, but he wanted to feel her come apart in his hands, to see her step off into the void as he held her.
Her body tightened again, and he pulled his head back, staring down as her luminous dark eyes began to close. “No. Watch me. Watch as it happens.”
Her breath caught, and then she was convulsing against him, whimpering as the climax took her. Another moment and he pulled her hips tight, leaning forward to smell the slight vanilla fragrance of her hair.
“Okay?” The question seemed needless, but he had to ask.
She shook her head. “No. I want you inside me. Now.”
His body immediately returned to high alert. He took hold of her hips, pulling her up so that her legs wrapped around him, then turned to the bed. It was only a couple of feet, but it seemed to take a lot longer to stumble there than it should have.
He fumbled in the drawer of his nightstand, too aroused to be even slightly suave. She pulled the condom from his trembling fingers, tearing open the foil packet and positioning it over him.
He closed his eyes. The recipe for saison definitely wouldn’t be enough distraction at the rate they were going. The Gettysburg Address was out of the question.
“Watch me.” She grinned. “I want to watch your face when you come.”
He blinked. He’d never believed that words alone could be enough to push him over the edge, but she’d almost proved that wrong. “Smart-ass.”
“Damn straight.” She guided him toward her opening, bending her knees to bring her hips up to meet him.
He wasn’t sure how long he could last, but he definitely intended to go as long as he could. A matter of honor, more or less.
The first stroke was almost enough, but he pulled himself back from the edge, moving slowly. Hang on, hang on, hang on. She moaned beneath him, moving one heel along his hip. He increased the stroke, moving deeper, letting himself slide closer to the edge.
She pressed her heels against his ass, pushing him deeper as he fought to keep his breath. It wasn’t going to be long, but it was going to be hard—he couldn’t help it. He plunged deeper still and her body tightened around him again. “Oh, sweet,” she whispered. “So…sweet.”
Another stroke, and she broke again. She cried out, grasping his shoulders tight as her body shuddered. And then she was bringing him with her, the rhythmic tremor of her body pulling him along. He groaned, losing control, losing rhythm, losing everything inside her, bodies merging for one ecstatic moment that left him limp and panting.
After a moment, he tried to move to the side so he wouldn’t be crushing her with his weight. But she tightened her arms around his shoulders, holding him fast. “Wait a minute,” she murmured. “Let me catch my breath.”
His breath was one of several things he was trying to hang on to. His sanity was right up there, too, along with his control. Several dangerous phrases were dancing through his mind. Incredible. Mind-blowing. Best ever.
None of those were words he should be repeating right now. Not when they were both in a state of post-coital vulnerability. If they were still in his mind in an hour, he might—might—repeat them.
Who are you kidding? It was mind-blowing, and incredible, and, yes, the best sex ever.
He moved slightly, and this time she let him roll to his side. He didn’t let go of her, even then. He wouldn’t let go of her for the rest of the evening if he had his way. He turned slightly to watch her—the spread of dark lashes against her cheek, the slight flush that still showed along her throat.
Beautiful. So beautiful.
Her eyes opened and she stared back, those dark eyes miles deep, way beyond him. “What’s up, Dempsey?”
“Just thinking how lovely you are.” He tried for a smile and didn’t make it. The words sounded tinny in his ears, even though he meant every syllable.
She smiled and turned away, as if she knew he wasn’t serious.
Was he?
“We didn’t have much dinner. One slice of pizza apiece.”
“Are you hungry?” He rested his head on his arm. “I could bring the pizza in here.”
“Pizza in bed?” She frowned. “Sounds a little messy.”
“We could go back in the kitchen,” he said doubtfully. He didn’t want to leave the bed just yet. In fact, he’d be perfectly happy to spend the rest of the evening here, assuming Ruth was willing.
She turned her head, staring up at him from beneath those wonderful dark lashes. Then her lips moved up in a smile. “On the other hand, a little mess never hurt anybody.”
“Nope. Pizza and beer, coming up.” He slid out of bed quickly. The faster he headed for the kitchen, the faster he’d be back. But then he paused. Even a few minutes was a long time, now that he thought about it.
He leaned down, cupping her cheek in his hand, and gave her the best kiss he could manage, considering that she was lying down and he wasn’t.
She turned onto her side, smiling up at him. “Hurry back.”
“Oh, lady, you have no idea how fast I can move when I’m motivated.” Trotting was safest, but a dead run wasn’t out of the question.
…
A few hours later, Ruth lay in the darkness, warm and sated. Well-fed, well-loved.
Of course, loved was maybe the more romantic way of putting it. They’d had a lot of sex and it was terrific. But she wasn’t sure she should think much beyond that.
She was beginning to think her judgment wasn’t all that great where Liam was concerned. He’d been sweet and gentle and very, very skilled when it counted. And he hadn’t sounded like he was trying to slide by on charm when they talked.
He was a charming guy. That was a fact. But charm wasn’t necessarily bad. Just because she’d had a lousy expe
rience with a lying good-for-nothing in the past didn’t mean she was going to fall into the same trap again.
A sudden chill moved down her backbone. Why exactly was she thinking about David just now? It wasn’t like there was anything about Liam that reminded her of her ex-husband.
Except there sort of was. The whole charm thing. David’s was all on the surface and all for effect. All to get women to want him, to go to bed with him. That trait of his had ultimately made her life miserable. She didn’t think she’d have the same experience with Liam, but she couldn’t be sure.
As if he knew she was thinking about him, Liam turned to look at her. “You look very solemn all of a sudden. What’s going on?” He ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face.
“Just…stuff. Family.” Given that there was no way on God’s green earth she’d admit she’d been thinking about her ex-husband.
He raised an eyebrow. “Carol?”
“Yeah, sort of. We’ve got some issues to take care of when she comes back from Brett’s place. And I need to buy her some new clothes for school.” And this time she’d also buy herself a few things. Just because she spent a lot of time in her cheesemaker overalls didn’t mean she didn’t need a few nice things, too.
Especially if she went out with Liam again.
“When’s she due back?”
Ruth sighed. “No telling. She’ll come back when she’s tired of being at Brett’s or when Ginger decides she’s not that lonesome for her sons anymore. That could be any time from tomorrow up until next week.”
Liam’s lips moved into a sly grin. “Which means you might be free during the evening at least until next week, right?”
She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, maybe.”
“So we could have dinner again?”
“Sure. I guess.” Although she was pretty sure dinner would be the least of the evening’s activities.
“And breakfast?” His grin was broader now.
Ruth’s cheeks flushed again. Dammit. “Sure. Breakfast, too.”
Liam turned on his back, folding his arms behind his head. “I can’t offer you too much in the way of breakfast tomorrow, much as I’d like to impress you. I’ve got cereal, and I might have a couple of eggs, although I can’t promise that. I haven’t had time to hit City Market for a week or so.”
Ruth narrowed her eyes. “You’re talking to someone who owns a deli that does some of the best breakfast pastries in town, courtesy of your friend Peaches. If you can supply enough coffee to wake us up, I can supply a much better breakfast than cereal or even eggs.”
“Ah, Peaches.” Liam sighed. “I’d forgotten about her. And her scones. And her muffins.”
“How do you know about her scones and her muffins? I thought she couldn’t bake at Black Mountain Tavern?”
He turned toward her again, raising his hand to count off. “She managed to bake at her place, even when she couldn’t bake at the tavern. She’d bring stuff in the morning. It was enough to make everybody show up at work early, believe me. Yet another reason Stanton is pissed about losing her. Also, Bec has been sneaking me Peaches’s discards for the past week. The ones she doesn’t eat herself or save for Wyatt, that is.”
“I didn’t know we had any discards. There can’t be many. Peaches doesn’t make that many mistakes, so far as I can tell.”
“She has high standards. She also likes Bec. And me. They may not be discards so much as set-asides.” His forehead furrowed. “You won’t make her stop doing it, will you? That would definitely ruin my morning.”
“As long as Peaches goes on turning out the best pastries in town, I don’t care who gets her seconds. Of course, I’ll need her to save a couple for me, too.” She stretched her arms over her head, feeling warm and luxurious and faintly guilty. “I should probably head home.”
Liam’s smile faded. “Why? We were just talking about breakfast, remember? That requires you to be here when we wake up.”
She bit her lip. “I guess I’m not used to waking up anywhere but my own bed. I don’t even have a toothbrush.”
“Believe it or not, I have extra toothbrushes. The dentist gives me one every time I get my teeth cleaned.” He ran the back of his hand along her cheek. “Stay, Ruth. Please.”
She took a breath. Big step here, Ruth. Are you ready?
Yeah, she was. “Okay. Coffee and a toothbrush. How can I refuse?”
Chapter Fourteen
As a general rule, Liam wasn’t a morning person. Given that he didn’t leave work until after one a.m. several nights a week, that wasn’t surprising. Breakfast was usually brunch or maybe even lunch, depending on whether he got up at ten or eleven. He seldom saw much of Antero before noon, and he seldom wanted to see it much earlier than that.
Right now, he was strolling down Main Street a little after seven in the morning and thoroughly enjoying it. The fact that Ruth was walking beside him had a lot to do with that enjoyment. The cool July air was almost like the end of summer. He could smell the willows from the nearby creek and hear the sound of water trickling over the stones. He felt a little like shouting, but he wasn’t sure why exactly. Maybe just so that everybody else could wake up and see this, too.
Since the town was in the shadow of Black Mountain, the sun didn’t fully reach Main until after seven, but he found that he liked the slightly shadowy, early morning light, particularly the way it emphasized Ruth’s cheekbones and the luminous quality of her eyes.
She’d complained about not having any makeup with her after her morning shower, but from Liam’s point of view, she still looked lovely. He knew the difference between wearing makeup that was designed to look nonexistent and actually wearing no makeup at all, and Ruth looked great no matter which she had on. But he suspected Ruth always looked great, no matter what. Or anyway, he’d think so.
Careful there, Dempsey. Keep your head.
He was trying to, but it wasn’t easy. Everything about Ruth this morning made him smile. He couldn’t stop looking at her.
She glanced back at him with a shy grin, and he realized he was staring. He managed a quick smile in return. Not a stalker, ma’am. Honest.
She ran a hand through her hair, feathering it quickly. “Sorry you had to wake up so early to get any breakfast. I forget other people don’t start their business at the crack of dawn.”
“I’m enjoying the novelty. Who knows when I’ll see seven a.m. again?” Although he suspected it would be soon, particularly if he managed to entice Ruth into his bed again in the near future. Who cared if it meant less sleep? He could operate on a few hours if they could spend more time together.
She cut down a side street, heading for the back door of the Salty Goat. He’d forgotten the place wouldn’t be open yet, although Peaches would probably be in there baking. Technically, the Salty Goat was a coffee break place where people went to grab a pastry at mid-morning. But those mid-morning pastries had to be baked before they got there, and today he got to have the benefit of that early morning labor.
Ruth pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked the back door. Already, he could smell sweet spice and sugar, along with a scent he could only describe as brown. Whatever it was, his mouth was watering, and he suspected he’d be willing to eat cardboard if it had been frosted in whatever Peaches was stirring up.
“Have a seat,” Ruth said. “I’ve got to get the coffee started before I change into my cheese-making clothes. I’ll see what Peaches has in the oven.” She turned toward the kitchen door, dropping her purse on a counter.
As he settled down at one of the café tables, he could hear Peaches humming in the kitchen, some song he didn’t know. He’d forgotten how she hummed when she worked—her voice made everything a little brighter. Yet another reason the tavern seemed sort of dismal right now.
Nobody wanted McCullough to sing. In fact, having him shut up altogether would be a blessing. The muttered curses were bringing everybody down.
The door to the kitchen
swung open and Peaches emerged with a tray of something that smelled delectable. She held it with a pair of checkered potholders. She paused when she saw Liam. “Oh, hello. How are you? I’ve missed seeing you every day.” She gave him a glowing smile and headed for the pastry display case. “Did you come in with Ruth?”
He paused. If he admitted to being with Ruth, would that be a compromising statement? Did Ruth mind being compromised? Overthinking it.
“Yeah, I was promised breakfast. What’s on the tray?”
Peaches glanced down as if she needed to remind herself. “It’s the first bunch of muffins—apricot almond. I’ve got some cinnamon buns rising, but I won’t put them in the oven until it’s closer to the time we open. They taste best hot.”
Predictably, his mouth began watering again. Cinnamon buns. When was the last time he’d tasted a home-baked cinnamon bun? Probably a few weeks ago when Peaches had brought some in to work with her. “Could I take a muffin? I’ll pay you whatever you want.”
Peaches grinned again, shaking her head. “If you’re having breakfast with Ruth, they’re free. She owns the place, you know.”
He nodded. “I know. Believe me, I know.”
Ruth pushed back through the kitchen door carrying a couple of coffee mugs. “I didn’t know how you took your coffee, so it’s black. There’s cream in the kitchen if you want it.”
“Black’s fine.” He picked up a plate from a stack on the counter, then took the muffin Peaches handed him. It was still warm.
He closed his eyes, letting that sink in. A warm muffin. Hot coffee. A beautiful woman who’d been in bed with him not that long ago. If this wasn’t the perfect morning, it was pretty damn close.
Ruth dropped into the chair across from him, then turned back to Peaches. “You want to join us? Take a break and have some coffee.”
Peaches shook her head, sighing. “Thanks anyway. I’ve got more muffins ready to come out and some batter that’s ready to go into the tins. I’ll grab some coffee when I get a minute.”
Ruth frowned. “Don’t work too hard. We’ll sell whatever you put in the case. Take some time for yourself.”