His thrusts became longer, harder, more amazingly powerful. He came with a guttural shout and with the sensation of hot, thick, liquid jets filling her full.
Huffing and puffing, his chest expanding, struggling for air, he finally rolled them to their sides. Still joined, but at least all that muscle mass wasn't crushing her.
"Jesus, Share, are you all right?" his murmur barely above a whisper.
"Oh, God, yes, mmm." She choked with the surprised emotion of her love for him, the longing for the returning of that love.
"I can't move," he added.
"Mm mm. No."
He slid the side of his robe over her body and snuggled her up close to his chest.
She wanted to giggle, cry, or howl with the unutterable pleasure of being with this man. His heat and breath buffeting her face, his hard arm against her back, pulling her into him. There was nowhere else on earth she'd rather be.
Chapter Twelve
Pete stood at the front of the chapel next to his friend and partner, Hank Crossman. He angled his stance so he could watch Sharon during the ceremony. She outshone the bride. The shimmering golden dress displayed every one of her considerable attributes in a very classy way. Her stunning profile shown to advantage by her hairdo—a sophisticated knot on top of her head, little tendrils curling around her ears and nape. He looked forward to shaking all the pins out later, in the privacy of the penthouse.
This best man thing was going to be a piece of cake. Stand with his friend, hand him the wedding rings, and toast the happy couple at the reception. However, his scalp prickled with the emotion of the occasion. Hank had fought his feelings for Nickie, had to be chased down in the next state, and then convinced by his father not to let the golden opportunity of the love of a woman like Nickie get away.
...your life will be full of peace and joy...
Pete filled his lungs with a shuddery, uneven breath at the sight of Sharon's rapt face. The setting sun through the stained glass window above the altar dappled her skin with a golden light.
...comfort her, honor and keep...
She was uncertain about him. From what he could figure out, other men had used her insecurities, loneliness, and beauty for their own purposes. He found he had this great need inside him to protect her, to reassure her he loved...
...wherever you go, you will always return to one another.
...her. Oh, God. His mother always told him it would hit him in the gut when it happened. Some of his siblings were in loving relationships, but after all these years he'd been afraid he was immune. Sharon was special. He'd known that all along. He was now beginning to understand how special.
Silence. She returned his gaze, her lips parted. She raised her hand to her neck, gave him the finger. Huh? He frowned.
She waggled her finger.
The ring. She was signaling him? The ring! Oh, Christ, I mean cripes. He was in a church, after all. He glanced at Hank, who waited patiently, his hand out palm up, a distinctly non-religious smirk on his face. Shi...shoot. He rustled in his jacket pocket for the rings, flop sweat popping out above his upper lip. Here, here they are. No worries. Crisis averted.
He got through the rest of the ceremony without further embarrassment.
Whom love has joined, let none put asunder.
His heart pounded. You don't discover you're in love every day, especially in a place as momentous as your friend's wedding. Hank and Nickie had flown back down the short aisle, and guests already clustered around them. His job was over—except for the toast, and he had that down pat.
She stood at her place in the chapel, obviously waiting for him. Would she believe it when he told her he was in love with her? The grin on her face told him she hadn't forgotten his gaffe with the ring. Well, he'd been distracted big time, looking at her.
***
Pete Rayne sporting a tux set her heart to tripping and turned her body to kindling. Six foot two of broad shoulders, long legs, and tousled hair. The man was amazing. Sharon felt so proud walking into the banquet room on his arm. He was everything she'd ever wanted in a man. She wasn't going to wallow in the let down she'd undoubtedly have soon, once their affair was over. They were having fantastic sex, but there were no promises for the future. She only had him for now.
He snagged two glasses of champagne and led her straight to the dance floor. The number was fast, but he slid his arm around her waist as if it was slow dancing, the cold of the goblet resting on her back.
"You look beautiful, sweetheart," he murmured as he nuzzled her cheek. "Did you buy this dress in Parkersburg?"
"Thank you, my dear," she replied in a singsong rhythm. "Actually, I did see a couple of things I liked at home, but I drove into Des Moines and found this one." He noticed. Both the ice blue dress from last night and this one, cost much more than she usually spent, but she wanted him to be proud of her. She felt like a princess in the amber sheath with the kicky little ruffle around her knees. The matching beaded silk sweater didn't warm her as much as cover the spaghetti straps during the chapel service.
"Well, your dress looks very fine, young lady. And I'm not just saying that because I want to get you out of it ASAP." He gazed down at her, his hazel eyes warm, his smile sensual and provocative.
"Whew," she purred, leaning against him. "I need something to cool me down."
"On my account, I hope."
"Oh, yeah."
After all the guests took their seats, it was his province to offer the wedding toast. She had no idea what he'd say, but he liked his partner Hank a lot. He said he'd given toasts at his brothers' weddings back in Arizona before he moved to Iowa, so it was no sweat.
Clinking a champagne goblet with a fork, he held the glass out. "Well, what can I say about this outgoing, fun-loving guy?"
Most of the assembled crowd, including her, burst out laughing at this hyperbole.
Hank narrowed his eyes and glared at Pete.
"Oh, wait, that's a whole other speech about someone else." He beamed, pretending to dig through the inside breast pocket of his jacket. "Seriously, I've known Hank Crossman for over three years and have been his partner for most of that time. He sincerely loves his job and is a great investigator." He raised his glass to his lips, as if finished. Just when everyone followed suit, Pete lowered the glass and held it out again.
Groans abounded.
"I know for a fact he fell for Nickie Grace the minute he laid eyes on her. I was there. But I'm not sure she did the same."
A smiling Nickie looked up at Pete and shook her head slightly.
"Okay," he went on, his lips quirking in a huge smile. "She didn't."
Hank scowled, waving his hand in a let's speed it up sign.
"Just hold it up a minute, buddy," he said with a laugh then let his voice get serious. "I am very happy Hank and Nickie found each other and the warmth of their extended families." He tipped his glass in the direction of Nickie's parents and sister, then turned to acknowledge Hank's dad. "May they have many happy years and many beautiful children together. And thank you, guys, it's been an honor being your best man."
He held up his glass again. "To love and its reward."
"To love!" echoed around the room.
Surreptitiously dabbing at her tears, Sharon said, "That was lovely." They clinked glasses and sipped.
"Thank you, honey." He bent to her and brushed his lips over a wet drop set to roll down her cheek.
His warm breath bathed the side of her face, and she felt suspended in time. The moment was sweet, even though her feelings jumbled. They seemed so close to something wonderful, but would a day like this ever come for her? Pete cared about her, but did he care enough or was he still looking around? She silently repeated what was becoming her mantra. Enjoy it while you've got it.
After dinner, the music began, and Pete and Hank goofed around. It was hysterical to see the two big, strapping hunk-o-ramas dancing with each other, clowning around, certainly not unsure about their sexuality.
> The bride approached her.
"You look gorgeous, Nickie." And she did. Her wedding gown was a strapless, narrow fitting sheath to her ankles. She had a terrific figure, but Sharon wondered about the little pooch of her stomach. Just thinking of Hank as a father made her smile. He'd been a wild man until Nickie came to town. Since then, he hadn't looked at another woman.
"Thank you, Sharon. I hope you're having a good time."
"Oh, yes. Pete's making sure of that."
They both turned toward the still dancing men and rolled their eyes, laughing so hard they cried. "If we didn't know better, I'd say they made a cute couple." Nickie had to shout, since the crowd had started cheering the idiots on. Then she motioned Sharon back to the table, where she sat with a palm over her belly.
That's when Sharon was sure Nickie was pregnant.
"You know, I love him so much."
"I know. I see how you are together," Sharon responded. Nickie's fair skin flushed and layered with sheen of sweat. "Are you all right? Do you want me to get him?"
"I'm really fine. You can probably guess what's going on." Nickie lightly patted her tummy. "He's so happy. I think he's really surprised at how happy."
"Nickie, he needs you. He always has. He just didn't know you until now." Sharon gave Nickie's arm a reassuring pat, telling her with more than words alone that she wasn't jealous or angry Hank was with Nickie now. "Now, let's go get those guys before they run off on the honeymoon together."
"Good idea. After all, I want to dance with my husband." Nickie charged onto the dance floor to claim him.
Sharon, right behind her, tapped Pete's shoulder. "May we cut in?"
Chapter Thirteen
"I'd like a dance with Sharon, if you don't mind." Before anyone could object, Hank swept her away with an arm around her waist and grasped her hand in the traditional waltz position.
She glanced toward Nickie, who smiled and nodded at them as she took Pete's arm. Their heads tipped together. She saw Nickie say something to him, saw him look back at her. He didn't look jealous, just thoughtful.
This was the first time she'd been alone with Hank since their breakup. Even that had only consisted of his uncomfortable announcement to her that he had feelings for Nickie. "Congratulations, Hank."
"Sharon, I'm going to say one more time I'm sorry about us. I hope you're not still too mad at me."
"I'm not mad." They hadn't moved far. Hank was kind of like Pete in the dancing department. Sway and shuffle. "I knew we were just dating. I don't think I ever expected it to last."
He raised an eyebrow in mock dismay.
"Oh, come on, Hank, you know you weren't a one-woman man. You played the field big time," she laughed good-naturedly. She could afford to be generous.
"Yeah, I guess I did."
"But the night I saw you chase Nickie out of Nook's, I knew something was different for you. You never would have chased another woman like that. You didn't need to."
He had the grace to keep silent. They shuffled around in a circle.
"Nickie's pregnant." He couldn't keep his smile down, white teeth gleaming against his tan.
"I guessed." She laughed out loud. "God, you look pleased with yourself."
"Yeah."
"Nickie's good for you. You're so in love with each other."
"Yeah," he mumbled. "I love her. I can't believe I'm actually saying this out loud to another human being."
"It's all right." She patted his shoulder. He was taller than Pete, by a couple of inches, and she couldn't believe she'd once thought they fit together perfectly. With Pete's height, it was much easier to put her arms around his shoulders. Oh, she was so over Hank. "Just love both of them."
"Pete's crazy about you."
She closed her eyes a moment, savoring that possibility, fighting and failing to keep a smile off her face. "I really hope so."
"I wish you everything good, Sharon." Hank's voice took on a husky seriousness. "He's a great guy."
"Yeah, I think so."
"Lousy dancer…"
They were still laughing when they separated. "Congratulations, you two," she said to Hank. "Have a wonderful honeymoon." She headed to the ladies' room, needing some alone time, away from the crowd. Lots to think about. Pete. Maybe a future with Pete? Maybe her luck was changing, and she had Hank and Nickie to thank for that.
Leaving the ladies' room, she decided she wasn't quite ready to return to the reception. She detoured to the hotel bar, finding an empty stool at the end. This had been a gorgeous day, a gorgeous wedding, and she wore a gorgeous dress. Oh, and she was with the most gorgeous man alive. She closed her eyes and listened to the soft jazz strains from the little group in the bar. Suddenly, strong arms enclosed her on each side, large hands balancing on the bar. Silky lapels, and little shirt studs imprinted on her back. Scented with the very lightest of colognes, warmed by the heat of dancing, it all combined to create his personal Pete aroma.
"I've been looking for you, darlin'." His whispered breath wafted over her shoulder. He dipped his head and nipped at her ear.
She tipped back, to look at him upside down. "Well, here I am."
He canted her head right side up with a tap on her chin and, just for a second, brushed his lips gently over hers. "Were you hiding?" Swiveling her stool around, he stepped close to press his muscular thigh against her while he deepened the kiss, lengthened the kiss. She lost herself, clutched his lapel to keep her balance. It was a balance problem more in her mind than body. There was no way she could physically fall. He had hold of her.
Emotionally, she had already fallen. How could she rein in the delicious, tender, hot, passionate feelings he evoked in her? Did she want to? Did she need to? "No, I wasn't hiding. Just taking a breather."
"Good, 'cause I don't want to lose you," he murmured, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. "Thank you for trying to remind me about the rings. I don't even want to tell you what I thought you were doing."
She turned her palm and caressed his cheek, brushed her thumb across his lower lip. "I can just imagine what you thought. The look on your face was priceless." She giggled huskily, until he licked her thumb. He'd crowded out the person next to her and appropriated the stool, pulling it closer, spreading his legs to slide in on either side of hers. Heat radiated from him, filling her senses with him, with his sweet passion. She gazed at his wonderful lips and whispered, "Kiss me again."
He pumped his hips, pushing his cock against her knees. "I plan to kiss you all over, baby," he promised in his low, sexy growl.
"Excuse me, sir and madam. Why don't you take this upstairs?"
She heard the bartender's authoritative request through her sensual haze, but it took her a minute to process it. Then her head whipped toward him, saw him looking at them over his half-glasses. "Pete," she muttered. "We've gotta get out of here. This is so embarrassing."
Pete bristled, tensed as if he was going to argue, but she pressed her hand on his thigh, high up on his thigh, to remind him of what they were doing. He paused, looked down at her hand, glanced back up to her eyes, and got the message. He pulled out a couple of twenties, slapped them on the bar, growled at the bartender, and swept her quickly away.
***
In the elevator on the way up to the penthouse, he took the opposite corner. Just like boxers. Well, maybe not fighters. He was being polite. Until they reached the room. Then there'd be no rules. No restraint. No resistance. His chest hurt from the stress of controlling himself. He'd almost embarrassed both of them in the bar, humping her knees as he had. "I'm sorry about the bar," he offered in a strangled voice.
"What?"
"Christ! Can't this crate move any faster?" He looked frantically up to the controls, but there weren't any floor markers. It was an express. Then why isn't it expressing, damn it? "Share, I'm sorry, but I'm trying to keep from fucking you right here in the elevator."
Whoosh. The doors opened onto the foyer.
"Thank God." He swept
her up in his arms and marched toward the double doors to the bedroom. "I don't want to ruin your dress, so I'm gonna get it off you right now. Okay?" He put her down, turned her to unzip it, and slipped the pins out of her hair to loosen it to fall on her shoulders. She turned back to him and started working on his shirt studs.
"Wait," he said, shrugging out of the tux jacket. He brushed the little straps off her shoulders, and the whole dress slithered to the floor, draping on her sexy sandals and over his big wing tips. "Christ."
The studs were gone, the shirt was open. Her fingers stroked his chest. She massaged the muscles.
Heat rolled over his skin.
She pinched his nipples and electric charges detonated, racing toward his cock.
Her bra, strapless and of some shimmery, flesh-colored lace, rode low on her breasts, her nipples almost popping out. He dragged a fingertip over the soft mounds. "Oh, Sharon." He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her rounded flesh, plumping her up with his palms.
She whimpered, pushed her breasts up into his face, and slid her fingers through his hair to cup his head.
He lavished wet kisses all over her chest as his thumbs swiped over her velvety nipples, around in little circles, pressing harder each time.
"Yes, oh yes, yes. Come here," she ordered, pulling his head up.
He lifted his heavy eyelids, craving more.
"Kiss me."
Their lips met, hard, his tongue thrusting in, throat humming. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand bracing the center of her back, the other curving down to caress her ass. Bare ass. Oh, Jesus. He ate at her mouth and slid his hand—not the one on her ass, he wasn't moving that lucky hand—to finish shaking the pins out of her hair.
She broke away, laughing a deep, throaty sound that only inflamed him, and said, "God, you are so sexy. Where's Little Willy? I want to make him big."
She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, sank to her knees at his feet, and began working at his belt buckle and zipper.
The Keeper Page 7