A Moment of Bliss

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A Moment of Bliss Page 19

by Heather McGovern


  “I’m sorry.” His words were muffled into her hair.

  She sat up again, pulling the towel off her head and looking a little affronted. “What are you apologizing for? You weren’t the one who was a crap parent. Besides, it taught me how to be independent. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I hadn’t realized I had to take care of myself because no one else would.”

  “But you should’ve had someone to rely on.”

  She shifted farther away, her green eyes seeing way too much. “Oh yeah? Who did you have to rely on? I don’t mean take care of; I mean who took care of you?”

  He had to laugh, because even without him saying it, Madison knew they weren’t so different. “Back then? The inn staff, occasionally. Sometimes Sophie, maybe even Devlin. On a good day, Mom was up for dealing with the inn and taking care of us. She’d eat dinner with us and stuff. On a bad day . . .” He shrugged. “All she could manage was keeping herself together. Never mind four kids.”

  “Then why have four kids?” Madison clamped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry . . . I know that’s harsh, but seriously.”

  He’d wondered the same thing himself, many times. He was thankful for his big family, but he’d never understood why his folks thought having more kids would help. “I have no idea. I’m glad there are four of us now though. I can rely on Dev when he’s really motivated. When Trevor was here, he was our outdoor rec guy, and I can always count on Soph. She keeps me on track, and when we start wanting to kill each other, she stops us. She’s little, but she can be scary.”

  “She’s definitely a paradox. And she looks nothing like the rest of you.”

  He leaned away to see if she was joking. She wasn’t. “Sophie isn’t my biological sister. She’s adopted.”

  Madison blinked at him. “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry, I assumed you knew. Everyone in town knows our story; I forgot you might not.”

  “That explains the difference.”

  “She jokes and says she is literally the redheaded stepchild.”

  Madison smiled, but shook her head. “Then I really don’t get your parents. If three boys was too much, why adopt another child?”

  Roark took a deep breath, instantly back to being seven years old, when this tiny, fiery four-year-old girl came to live with him. Shame weighed on him, remembering his first, entirely selfish reaction.

  Someone else I have to take care of.

  “I don’t think they had much of a choice; guilt being their overwhelming motivator. My folks were Sophie’s godparents, our moms were best friends. When her parents died, my parents didn’t want her going into a home or to live with an elderly aunt. They’d talked about being guardians for each other’s kids, so . . .” He shrugged.

  Why anyone would want Roark’s parents to be the back-up parents for their kids was beyond him, but it’d made Sophie family, and that much had always felt right—once he’d gotten past that initial resentment.

  “I remember the day she came to live with us. She was so small and scared; I thought she’d drown in a family as big as ours.”

  “I can’t imagine her scared of anything.”

  “It took some time, but she came into her own. I never had to worry about her the way I did my brothers.”

  “But I bet you still did.” She gave him a knowing look.

  He shrugged it off. “Nine times out of ten, if I had to corral my brothers into doing their homework or coming inside to eat, she was right by me, fussing twice as loud, even if she was guilty right along with them. I think she liked bossing them around.”

  “I’m sure she did.” Madison laid her hand on his leg and shifted closer to lean against him again.

  Her hair was still damp, but the roaring fire and their nest of blankets kept them warm. He didn’t care how late he’d have to work tonight to make up for the time spent here. The extra hours were worth it for the small window into Madison’s world.

  “Sometimes, back then, I wanted to be an only child,” he said. “Even prayed to be alone for a day or two, but I’ve never been alone. I was certainly never alone like you were. That wasn’t fair to you.”

  She turned the topic right back on him. “Wasn’t exactly fair on you to have to raise three kids at the ripe old age of prepubescence.”

  “Eh. I survived. Anyone else would’ve done the same.”

  She shifted her weight against him, pinning him with a flash of her green eyes. “No. Not anyone.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No. You didn’t have to take care of them, pretty much raise them, when you’re only a few years their senior, but you did. It’s such a . . . you thing to do. Taking responsibility, getting stuff done, looking out for the people you care about. Trust me—that is not something just anyone does. It’s what you do.”

  Madison wasn’t going to come right out and say she respected or admired him, or anything that telling and bordering on the emotional. But she didn’t have to. It was there in her unwavering stare, the vehemence in her voice.

  Roark wanted to kiss her for it.

  So that’s exactly what he did.

  Chapter 19

  Warmly and softly, he kissed her. He brushed his lips over hers, less demanding than last night, coaxing her open until he deepened the kiss. A flick of his tongue, and Madison let him in, pulling him down on top of her.

  “I make a very good blanket,” he teased.

  She laughed, covering her mouth.

  “Don’t cover up your laugh,” he said, moving down to kiss her neck, her collarbone. “I love your laugh.”

  She urged him into another kiss, afraid of what she might say. He “loved” her laugh; he “loved” her hair when it was a mess. He tossed that word around so comfortably. A word she never heard, and never used.

  She kissed him deeper, needing the urgency instead of sweetness. If he kept kissing her softly, touching her as though she were precious—if he kept being the person that he was—then she would truly break.

  Roark had flaws, the same as anyone else, but his flaws helped him understand her. Perfectly. And it was too much.

  “I need you,” she said, wanting to move things along.

  “I need you too.” He went back to kissing her neck until he got to that tender spot that she liked so much, right at her collarbone. He laved over it with his tongue.

  “No. I mean . . . right now.”

  “Okay.” He breathed the words against her skin. “But what’s the rush? You cold?”

  She was far from cold. She was a growing fire, and it was because of him. Like the embers beside them, she was dancing flame, with the same risk of burning everything in sight.

  He slid his hands up and down her sides, warming her with his touch. Her nipples tightened hard and he cupped her breasts, thumbing one while flicking his tongue over the other. She jerked against him, clutching his arms with both hands.

  “Roark.” She sighed.

  “Okay . . . okay.” He moved away and one of the blankets fell away from him, so he wrapped it tighter around her upper half and sat up.

  “Where are you going? You’re going to get cold.”

  He glanced at the fire. “Doubtful. I run hot anyway.”

  She noticed.

  “Besides, I’m not going anywhere.” He put hands under the backs of her knees and tugged until her legs were on either side of him.

  She formed a small, silent, “Oh,” with her mouth.

  “I don’t think I’ll be cold,” he said, settling between her thighs.

  He concentrated his attention on her with the same focus and enthusiasm as last night. Touching and licking, teasing and coaxing at the bundle of nerves until she went from being a woman in control to a babbling, quivering woman in need.

  Roark was relentless, even as her body tensed, her legs squeezing at his shoulders. All he did was hum happily—or smugly, who really cared?—and she pressed into his mouth, gripping at his hair. She rocked with each flick of his tongue, all thoughts of rushing forgotten.


  “More.”

  He gave her more and more until she arched her back and . . .

  “Oh. Holy . . . yes!” she cried out, pulling at his hair as the orgasm hit her. Writhing against him, she made a noise in her throat that shocked her. Roark wrapped his arms under her legs and held on, sucking gently at her cleft until she made it again.

  “Damn. . . . it.” Her legs went loose and numb as she slumped on the blanket, the shivers running through her again.

  He kissed the inside of each thigh again, then her stomach, working his way back up and wriggling in to get under the edge of the blanket. He settled over her, but Madison kept her eyes closed, a smile on her face.

  “I’m definitely not cold,” she said after a moment.

  “Me neither.”

  She hooked a leg over his, moving so that his erection nestled right into her hip. “You came prepared?”

  “I’m always prepared.” He reached out of the pile of blankets and made the quickest grab and tear of foil of anybody, ever.

  “Let me put it on,” she said, taking the condom from him as he settled back between her legs.

  She reached down, stroking the length of him, running her fingers over his sac until he gave an involuntary jerk, his eyes rolling shut.

  She rolled the condom on, watching his face the entire time. She stroked him again before lying back.

  Roark followed her movement, leaning forward, the blanket falling away. He was built like the perfect outdoorsman.

  He held Madison’s hip, still touching her, still caressing her.

  It had to be a little chilly for him, partially out of the blankets, but he didn’t rush. Each time he’d gone about having sex like he was on a mission to make her one big trembling mess.

  He succeeded each time.

  And he wasn’t turned off by a woman who liked to take the lead in bed sometimes, but today, right now, she wanted him to take her.

  Roark pushed himself inside of her, and she felt every inch.

  With both hands on her hips, he lifted her up, tilting her pelvis. “Wrap your legs around me,” he told her, and she did. He rolled his hips, thrusting into her, a steady look of concentration on his face.

  She studied that look, committing it to memory. Now, whenever she caught a glimpse of him studying his notes on his phone, she’d think of this.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, reaching out to hold her hand and kissing her temple.

  With him, she felt beautiful. She tucked her forehead into his shoulder, shivering despite the heat coursing through her body.

  “Hey.” Roark’s breath tickled her ear. “You okay?”

  She nodded, keeping her face hidden. She needed a second before she could look at him.

  “You feel so good,” he murmured.

  He felt like everything she’d always wanted sex to be. Unhindered and hot and earthshaking. She didn’t have to hold back, or worry about intimidating or scaring him away because she pounced on him in the forest or shoved him back onto a bed and took charge.

  She had that with Roark, and having it was both wonderful—and terrifying.

  Madison pushed the whisper of fear away, running her hands up Roark’s forearms, the muscles taut from holding her. She didn’t want to think about what this might mean. She only wanted to feel.

  “Harder,” she whispered to him. “I still want to feel you when I wake up tomorrow.”

  Her gaze locked with his, Roark’s eyes dark and hungry. He thrust into her, steadily faster, working his jaw. They kept going, moving against one another until they were slick with the sheen of sweat.

  He grabbed her left leg, hoisting it higher, changing the angle so that it shot sparks into her core. “I want to feel you too,” he said. “So tomorrow . . . we can look at each other . . . and know.”

  With his words, her orgasm rushed toward her. Arching her back, she welcomed it. Know what? She wasn’t sure, but her climax hit as though the campfire beside them had exploded and all around her were sparks and fire.

  She eased down with Roark holding her. He tried to shift off of her, but she held on. Shivering, embracing him, not wanting to lose him just yet.

  Eventually, she let him roll to the side to dispose of the condom before settling down with her, the blankets draped over his chest. He ran his hand over her hair, threading his fingers through the strands until he worked all of the tangles loose.

  They lay that way for what might have been a few minutes or it could’ve been an hour. She didn’t care, because she didn’t want to leave. Finally, the fire began to dwindle.

  “We didn’t get to the s’mores,” Roark said.

  “You brought s’mores?”

  “Can’t have a campfire without them.” His words were warm against her hair. “But we should probably head back.”

  “I know.” But she didn’t want to. Working with the Bradleys might be one of her easiest and most enjoyable jobs so far, but still . . . it was work. Real life. Escaping all of that with Roark satisfied a gaping need she didn’t know she had.

  “I’m glad we did this today,” he said, his low voice and drawl vibrating his chest, making her want to curl up and purr. “Not just the sex either. I mean . . . hanging out, and talking.”

  Talking. Like when she’d opened up to him despite herself, despite her better judgment.

  He eased up and reached for her underwear and pants, handing them to her. Then he grabbed his boxers and jeans and managed to wiggle into them while under the blanket. “Hang on.”

  He hurried from under the blankets to grab her shoes, top, and bra, which she’d strewn farther up the bank.

  Madison dressed in silence, studying the man beside her.

  “Thank you,” she said, drawing his attention and then finding herself at a loss. Thank you for what? Not hating her? Not running away when she tried a burnout with his truck? For seeing who she really was, and still finding her beautiful? “For . . . you know . . . going to get my stuff.”

  Roark shrugged it off but gave her a smile like he knew what she really meant.

  And anyway, what kind of guy was nice enough to dart out, half dressed, to get the clothes she’d flung everywhere while in a huff?

  The same kind of guy who could run a family business while taking care of his family, and still have wild notions about going skinny-dipping in September.

  Roark kept her guessing, yet he made perfect sense. She understood his need for order and control, for hard work and responsibility. She couldn’t wrap her mind around how someone so disciplined could also be free and fun loving, but she was learning how good it felt to let go.

  With Roark she wasn’t just living, she was alive. For the first time in her life, she wanted something outside of work and her own drive to survive. She wanted more.

  She wanted Roark.

  The realization hit her like jumping into a cold lake. If she had on her running shoes right now, she’d be tempted to take off without him.

  “You ready?” she rushed to ask, slipping on her shoes and standing up.

  He stood up too, shaking out the blanket and packing stuff away. “Yeah.”

  She almost told Roark to go ahead and drive back, she’d run home.

  No. Not home.

  Honeywilde was not home, it was an inn, like every other inn or bed and breakfast or hotel she’d used before. The man who ran it was wonderful, but that was in the here and now. It meant nothing long-term. She was only projecting because she finally had someone’s attention. Someone who was decent and kind, not some ass trying to take advantage.

  In a week, the wedding would be over. She’d leave and start planning another event, the same as always.

  This was not home.

  Madison slipped on her shoes and led the way back toward the truck. She had to force herself not to run or rush, but act normally. Pretend like everything that just happened had no effect.

  She’d told Roark about her past. Some of it anyway. About her childhood, about her parent
s. A story she hadn’t shared with anyone since she was twenty, because she’d learned it hurt less to simply bury the hurt deep and pretend like life had always been fine.

  She was fine. She was always fine.

  Her lungs burned as though she’d run too far, too fast. She quickened her pace across the clearing, leaving Roark behind. If he noticed her sudden kick into high gear, he didn’t say anything. She reached the truck and rushed to the passenger side, holding on to the handle, gripping it hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

  Don’t freak out, don’t freak out. Do not freak out.

  She’d only said a few words about her past. Sharing some of herself and knowing more about him should be okay. He still wasn’t in any position to hurt her. She would leave Honeywilde when this wedding was over, and it wouldn’t matter that he knew her or that she’d let him in momentarily.

  In the end, she’d be the same as always.

  “Hey,” Roark called over the bed of the truck, throwing the bag of damp towels in. “You okay?”

  Madison took a deep breath, brushing her hair off her face before she leaned over and met his gaze, with a painfully big smile. “Of course. I’m fine.”

  Chapter 20

  The next morning, Roark sat at breakfast with his morning paper, his brother and sister eating entirely too fast for proper digestion, and Madison, across from him, pushing scrambled eggs around her plate like she was putting together a puzzle. She hadn’t said more than a dozen words to him all morning, and those had been reserved.

  Being around her, like this, was stepping back in time to when they first met, and he bet he knew why.

  Their time together was running out. They had just under a week until the first guests arrived, then all of this would wrap up and it’d be back to their regularly scheduled lives. And yesterday they’d shared something. They’d had a moment of intimacy that went beyond sex, and it was amazing. Perfect.

  He felt wonderful about it, but now Madison was shutting down on him. He couldn’t ask her about specifics here, in front of everyone, but maybe yesterday had been too much for her.

  Sophie slurped at her coffee so fast she started to cough.

 

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