Live-In Mom

by Paige, Laurie

  “Want you,” she heard herself say. Her body insisted on taking over from her common sense. She couldn’t seem to find any willpower to assert at all. There was just this yearning….

  “Do you?” He sounded shaken by her confession.

  He kneaded her breast, and her nipple sprang up, greedy in its desire for more. She made a purring sound of pleasure.

  “You’re like a cat,” he told her, “wanting to be petted.”

  She smiled. Turning her head, she kissed him through his shirt, then breathed against the material and felt the heat thus generated become trapped in the threads. She sucked in, drawing the heat away.

  Under her searching fingers, she felt his nipple bead the way hers had. She gently ran her nails over it, then squeezed lightly.

  He gave a throaty chuckle and pressed her hips against him. She felt his arousal near the apex of her thighs. With his hands cupped under her hips, he guided her as she brushed against him. Again. And again.

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her fingers in his hair. She tugged until he brought his head up, then she pressed forward until her mouth met his.

  He moved suddenly, lifting her from the floor so that she was dependent on his strength to keep them upright. Kicking off her evening sandals, she wrapped her legs around his waist, wringing a pleased gasp from him. She felt him take three long strides, then she was falling….

  They landed on the bed with a bounce of the springs. He absorbed his weight on one arm while he held her tucked close to him with the other. A wild gladness gathered in her while he ravished her face with kisses.

  “Ty,” she said.

  He tensed abruptly. He raised his head and gazed at her. “Are you going to tell me to stop?”

  She stared at him, at the dark passion in his eyes, the fire and the fury that blazed there, near the edge but not out of control. If she asked, she knew he would leave.

  Giving a quick shake of her head, she slipped her hands between them and worked on his buttons. When she glanced back at him, there seemed to be tenderness, even gratitude, in his gaze. It make her feel oddly protective of him.

  “I’m not going to stop,” she murmured wickedly, “unless you tell me to.”

  “That might not be until morning,” he warned.

  “Good.”

  He let out a deep breath and brought one of her hands to his lips. He kissed the back of it, then the palm. “You’re not going to play games.”

  “It’s not my way,” she said, halfway apologizing for not being like other women. She didn’t know how to dissemble.

  Pressing her hand to his chest, he moved to the side, one leg over both of hers. He rubbed his fingertips along the modest neckline of her dress. “I want to see you.”

  A tremor ran over her. She knew he could feel it, too, but she couldn’t hide it. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

  When she pulled his shirt from his slacks, he took her hands in one of his big ones and extended them over her head. “Zipper in the back?” he asked, kissing her throat as if fascinated with the taste and texture of her flesh there.

  “Yes.”

  He let her hands go and searched at the back of her neck until he found the tab. He coaxed the zipper down, rolling sideways with her so that he could unfasten it all the way. She felt air hit her back as the dress opened. Another tremor rocked through her.

  “Easy.” He slipped his hand inside and rubbed the bare skin along her back. He found the strap across her back.

  She felt her bra tighten, then loosen as he unhooked it. He laid her on the bed again and sat up, his weight on one arm. He eased the material off one shoulder, then the other, taking the undergarment with it. When she withdrew her arms, he let the silky material fall in folds at her waist.

  The part of her that had learned to be careful, to not trust anyone too much, whispered a steady stream of caution. It was too late for that. She wanted him… and this night, no matter what might follow afterward.

  For a long minute, he stared at her. “Beautiful,” he said.

  “I’m not very… I’m sort of… small.”

  “Beautiful,” he repeated. “Perfect.” He moved down until his face was level with her breasts, then he took one into his mouth.

  She closed her eyes tightly as sensation, almost like pain, spiraled from the point of contact into all parts of her. She put her hands on his head, not sure whether she was going to pull him closer or push him away.

  With a moan, she held him close and let him take his fill of her. He lavished his attention equally, thrilling her with his soft words of pleasure, his ardent words of praise.

  His hands moved over her, stroking her arm, covering one breast while he suckled and teased the other. He slipped his leg between her thighs, moving against her just enough to drive her senseless with hints of the bliss to come.

  She strained against him, demanding more.

  “Relax,” he urged with a soundless laugh. “It will be there for you.”

  “Will it?” In her desperation, she wasn’t sure.

  He paused and looked down at her, studying her mouth before going to her eyes. “Don’t you believe me?”

  Laying her hand over his, she stilled his motion on her taut breast. “I don’t know.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Your past lovers haven’t been very considerate if they didn’t see that you got your pleasure first.”

  “There was only one—” She clamped her lips together. She didn’t want to reveal her past, how stupid she’d been, thinking there must be love….

  “On a scale of one to ten, how much satisfaction did you get?” Ty asked.

  She felt the heat rush up her neck into her face. She managed a cheeky grin. “On a scale of one to ten? About zero.”

  He muttered an expletive.

  “Well, it wasn’t that bad.”

  He brushed across her lips with his, a tease of a kiss. “Hush, darling. This time will be different. I guarantee it.”

  The careful, cautious part of her curled up and blew away at his promise. For whatever reason, she trusted Ty Macklin. If he promised rapture, there would be rapture.

  Letting go of his hand, she touched his jaw, letting her fingertips trace the strong line to his chin. She rubbed his bottom lip, liking the shape of it.

  He nipped at her and caught her finger between his teeth. Watching her, he sucked on it, his tongue playing lazy games on the very tip.

  Taking a deep breath, she ducked her head and buried her face in the dark brown curls on his chest. She found his nipple and did to it what he was doing to her fingertip. It beaded against her tongue, filling her with sudden delight. She laughed.

  He released her finger. “Witch,” he said, nuzzling through her hair. He caught a handful of it. “It looks like spilled ink, your hair. It’s soft. Soft like you. All over. I didn’t know anything could be so soft, so sweet.”

  Catching her close, he found her mouth. Soon that wasn’t enough, either. Not for her. Not for him.

  “Let’s get really comfortable, shall we?” he invited. He slipped her dress over her hips, skimmed it along her legs and tossed it toward the chair when it came free.

  His eyes sizzled over her, taking in her lacy briefs, widening slightly at the beige garter belt, then crinkling as he smiled. “Let’s see if I can work one of these….”

  He reached behind her to unhook it, then he pulled it, the stockings and the briefs off in one jumble. They went the way of the dress, joining it on the floor where it had fallen.

  “You,” she said, wanting him naked, too.

  When he’d kicked off his shoes, she rose to her knees and helped with his clothing, laughing as they got in each other’s way. She stared in fascination when his powerfully built body was revealed for her perusal. The laughter faded away to quickening breaths. She’d never wanted anyone so much.

  He threw the bedspread toward the foot of the bed, then eased her down on the smooth, pale gr
een sheets. Propping himself on one arm, he-spread her hair over the pillow, evenly covering it with the black tresses.

  “Wait,” he said, frowning suddenly. He slid off the bed while she looked at him in confusion. “I’ll be back.”

  She bit her lip as he left the room, wondering why he’d walked out but somehow knowing he would return. He did. After laying several packets on the lamp table located between the bed and the chair, he rejoined her.

  “Now,” he said, and there was a wealth of meaning in the word.

  She trembled when he gathered her close, but he didn’t give her time to think on it. He went straight to her mouth and kissed her until they were both breathless, his mouth slanting first one way, then another across hers in reckless play.

  His tongue invaded her mouth, and there were new games to be tried between them, she discovered as they dueled and tasted and licked at each other.

  When his caresses glided down her torso to her thighs, she wondered if she could take much more. Each touch generated such a fierce rush of sensation, she felt she might faint if it became any more intense.

  Instinctively, her body twisted to meet his, pressing against his hard length, feeling the gentle thrusting on her thigh. She wanted him inside her, filling her with the joy of that joining….

  “Please,” she whispered against his lips.

  Ty shuddered at her heated response. She was hot under his hands. Carefully, he explored her heat, finding her moist and receptive to his touch. When he rubbed the sensitive nub, she stiffened slightly, then burrowed against him. Her hand went to him, urging him into her depths.

  “Not yet,” he told her. “Not until you need it more than air, more than life itself… the way I need you.” His voice was gruff, straining now with his own needs, holding himself in check with an effort. Her first, then both of them together.

  “Yes,” he heard himself saying past the roar of blood in his ears. She bucked against him, demanding fulfillment. “Don’t rush. It’ll be… incredible.”

  “Please,” she said again, and raked her nails over his hips, not hurting but sending shafts of pleasure through him.

  “All right, darling,” he tried to soothe her. She whimpered when he moved away. He grabbed a packet and ripped it open.

  Before he could remove the condom, she lifted it from the foil. With shaking hands, she put it into position. When she proved awkward, he experienced a strange sense of tenderness for her, for her eagerness, for her wish to take part in their lovemaking as an equal with him.

  He guided her hands in the procedure. When he was ready, he leaned over her, sliding over to rest between her legs. He was acutely aware of her rapt gaze as he let his hips sink toward hers.

  Holding himself up with his arms, he nudged the outer portals, sensing she wanted to see their joining. “Take me in.”

  She met his glance, then looked back at the place of contact. With a little purr of excitement, she fit their bodies together. He smiled at her eagerness when her hips rose off the bed, demanding that he come inside…to the warmth… to a welcome he’d never dreamed possible….

  “Ahhh,” he groaned, and closed his eyes and thought of cold mountain streams and banks of snow to cool his blood.

  When he was buried as deeply as he could go, they lay still. Regaining his breath, he reached between them and teased her with his thumb until she writhed beneath him. She roamed his chest and neck with her lips, laving trails of moist lava to burn right through his control.

  He caught her wandering mouth with his, holding his body still while she rippled beneath him like waves from a wild storm. When her hands stopped roaming and clamped tightly to his arms, he increased the pressure of his thumb and moved in short bursts against her. She cried out against his mouth.

  Shuddering, he waited out the tempest, refusing to give in to his own needs just yet. He wanted more for her, from her. He wanted… he didn’t know what he wanted, but he knew he had to search, to explore every element of this strange, sweet passion that existed between them… between him and this woman.

  Chapter Nine

  Carly woke as Ty eased away from her. She opened her eyes and followed his tall form as he walked to the win dow. The sun was a brilliant disk well above the horizon, its rays lighting the underside of a billowy cloud to pale shades of gold.

  When she scooted up against the pillows, he turned and saw her watching him. Their eyes locked. When he didn’t smile or offer a greeting, she didn’t, either. She didn’t know what to say about the most shattering experience of her life.

  “Did you sleep okay?” he finally asked as if recalling that he was the host and she the guest. “I meant to go to my bed….”

  His voice trailed off. She knew he was remembering when he’d started to leave during the night. She’d tightened her arms around him and refused to let go. He’d sighed, kissed her and stayed.

  “Yes. You?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his lean, muscular body. With the glow from the window outlining his naked splendor, he reminded her of a magnificent creature from long ago, wary, alert and wise in the ways of the ancient world.

  He made a throaty sound, almost a growl, then he strode over, swept the sheet from her and lifted her into his arms. Startled, she threw her arms around his neck and held on. He carried her down the hall to his room.

  There, he kicked the door shut behind them and headed for the shower. With warm water trailing over them, he shampooed her hair and rubbed a creme rinse into the long tresses, smoothing the tangles out with his fingers.

  She’d never shared a bath with a man. It had its own sensual pleasures, she found, which Ty amply demonstrated to her. When their bath was finished and he’d dried them both off, he loaned her a toothbrush.

  “Hardly been used,” he said.

  Smiling, she took it from him. They stood side by side at the twin sinks while they brushed. To her, the morning ritual seemed more intimate than the physical intimacy of the night in a way. Sharing the start of the day promised a future that hadn’t been mentioned during the long night of passion.

  When they finished, he caught her up in his arms again. She sighed with pleasure as he carried her to his bed.

  “My bed…the guest-room bed,” she corrected, “is already, uh, mussed up.” She couldn’t think of a delicate way to phrase it.

  He smiled, his first of the morning. “And women hate to see a bed unmade for no good reason.” He headed out the door. “Did anyone ever mention you talk in your sleep?” he inquired as he walked down the hall with her.

  “No.” She raised her head from his shoulder and peered anxiously into his eyes. “What did I say?”

  “Oh, nothing incriminating. You must have been dreaming about the shop. You murmured something about a work of art.”

  He dumped her on the bed and followed her down, his body covering hers as he settled his mouth on hers before she could say a word.

  And then, of course, words weren’t necessary for what came next, although they each murmured several over the next hour.

  Carly sat at the table in the kitchen while Ty cooked bacon and sausage. Batter steamed in the waffle iron, an old fashioned round one that had belonged to his grand mother. Her image of him shifted again. He was perfectly at ease in the kitchen.

  Except for an occasional fling, he had no need for a woman on a permanent basis, she realized. She turned her attention back to the paper he’d insisted she read while he prepared the meal.

  She felt rather self-conscious idling at the table while he did all the work. Of course, with her cooking, that was the safest course.

  When the telephone rang, she jumped, feeling odd about anyone finding out she was here. Ty answered on the sec ond ring.

  “I’m fixing waffles. Mm-hmm. Tell Martha it’s okay with me if you come on home. Bye.” He replaced the receiver. “Jonathan is going to join us for breakfast.”

  She jumped out of the chair as if it were a hot seat. “Uh, perhaps I should make up the bed.
Shall I put on fresh sheets?”

  His amused glance mocked her sudden case of nerves. She felt as if Aunt Essie were about to catch her in some mischief. He studied her face for a long second. “Clean sheets are in the hall closet,” he told her.

  She hurried up the steps into the hall. When she returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, she carried an armload of pale green cotton percale. “Where should I put these?”

  “The washing machine is through that door.”

  His eyes were laughing. Her face warmed. She ignored him and went into the small room off the kitchen.

  It contained a utility sink of stainless steel, a freezer and a gleaming white washer-and-dryer set. She stuffed the sheets in the machine, added soap and pushed the button to start.

  “For a modern career woman, you’re surprisingly inhibited,” Ty remarked. He removed a crisp brown waffle from the iron and poured more batter. “Jonathan wouldn’t notice if every bed in the house had been slept in.”

  The six-year-old probably wouldn’t, but she felt better with things looking tidy. Just in case.

  “He’ll probably wonder why you’re wearing my shirt, though,” Ty warned her.

  She looked down at her attire. Ty had loaned her a T-shirt and a pair of elastic-waisted cutoffs, which clung to her hips with no assurance of staying up. The slightest tug would dislodge them. She was barefoot.

  With no makeup and her hair pulled into a ponytail, she must look a mess. Her hands went to her lips. She hadn’t even put on lipstick after they’d left her bed the last time.

  “You look fine,” Ty said, bringing a plate to the table. “Wholesome. Like a farm girl.”

  “I am a farm girl.” She suddenly wanted him to know about her life. “My aunt had a few acres. We had a cow for milk and butter, and chickens for fresh eggs.”

  “You can milk?” he asked, astounded.

  “Yes. And plow and plant a vegetable garden. We canned quarts of food every year. It was fun. My foster brother and I would do the picking, cleaning and whatever else needed doing while Aunt Essie supervised and did most of the actual canning with a pressure canner. It used to scare me when the pot started hissing, and steam would make the gauge on top jiggle.” She laughed. “I kept a wary eye on it.”