Just one kiss (The Ashcrofts Book 1)

by Anderson, Poppy J.

  He guffawed. “She’s a clever woman.”

  “You’re trying to embarrass me,” Amy whined softly.

  “Not at all,” he protested in amusement, conveniently neglecting to tell her that the sight of her in those tiny bits of fabric would likely be too much for his self-restraint.

  “Mommy, put on your pretty swimming suit for Daddy,” Audrey demanded, making matters worse.

  “Not now, honey,” Amy replied resolutely, even though her cheeks had turned bright red. He couldn’t deny that it pleased him. “You should get out as well, sweetheart, or you’ll get all prune-y.”

  “But Mommy,” Audrey begged, “I want to stay in.”

  Her mother sighed. “Audrey, do you want to look like a raisin?”

  “I want to swim with you and Daddy!” she cried.

  “Not now,” Amy answered with a shake of her head as she rose from the pool’s edge.

  Despite her usual compliance, Audrey could be stubborn sometimes. “Why not?”

  Patrick chuckled at the sight of his wife’s frustrated face and imitated his daughter’s pleading tone. “Yes, Mommy, why not?”

  Tilting her head, eyebrows raised, Amy put her hands on her slender hips and gave him a searing look. “Does that mean you want to get in the pool, Patrick?”

  He opened his mouth to give her a joking answer, but she bent down, put both hands on his back, and shoved him into the pool in one swift motion.

  Patrick gasped for air before he went under, clothes and all. When he resurfaced and brushed his wet hair out of his face, he found his wife laughing loudly, his mom lying in her deck chair guffawing, and his daughter giggling with delight.

  Panting as he treaded water, he yelled, “Why, thank you so much, Amy!” His shirt and pants stuck heavily to his frame.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, rubbing her hands.

  Voice casual, as if he were talking about the weather, he said, “You do know my phone was in my pocket, right?”

  Her eyes went wide. “What? Oh, shit! Patrick, get it out of there!” She stepped to the edge of the pool and leaned down to give him a hand. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think of that.”

  With a serious face, he swam over to her and took her proffered hand. Then, with a jerk, he tugged her into the pool.

  Her squeal was music to his ears.

  When she resurfaced, spluttering, Patrick wrapped his arms around her and murmured, “Gotcha.”

  She coughed and brushed back her hair. “That wasn’t fair!”

  “An eye for an eye,” he replied, enjoying himself greatly.

  Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and his pulse accelerated. He felt alternately hot and cold as she closed her eyes and pursed her lips happily. Before he knew what hit him, she’d placed her hands on the top of his head and pushed him underwater.

  He came up coughing and blinking. “Ha!” she cried triumphantly. “Sweet, sweet revenge!” She made to swim out of his reach, but there was no chance of that.

  Splashing and dunking each other, they made their way toward Audrey in the shallow end. The girl squealed and slapped the water excitedly as they circled her, pretending to chase each other.

  “Mercy, Patrick, please!” Amy pleaded breathlessly.

  “What do you say, Audrey?” Patrick asked. “Should we have mercy on your mom?”

  “Yes, Daddy! Mercy!”

  Patrick and Amy laughed loudly at Audrey’s delighted begging just as Eleanore sauntered up to the edge with a large bath towel in her hands. “You two are really setting a great example for the child,” she scolded, but her voice betrayed her amusement.

  “Sorry, Mom.” Patrick chuckled.

  “Yes, Eleanore,” Amy chimed in with a laugh. “Sorry!”

  Her mother-in-law rolled her eyes and nodded at her granddaughter. “Come on out, honey. Let’s go up to your room and get you into something warm.”

  The five-year-old obeyed without a word, climbing the low steps out of the pool.

  As Eleanore and Audrey left the pool house, Amy and Patrick swam to the stairs and climbed out of the pool into the cool air, dripping wet. Patrick groaned inwardly as Amy climbed the steps before him, her long legs and round butt on display in her tight, wet shorts, which stuck to her skin seductively. The white tee was even more interesting, because it was virtually transparent. And a quick peek told him she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He felt like moaning.

  But he couldn’t savor the sight any longer, because Amy grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. At the same moment, Patrick heard a sound from the entrance, which reminded him his damned brother had the uncanny ability of showing up at the most inconvenient moments.

  Stuart, who had just cleared his throat loudly, stood in the doorway with a stern expression and his arms folded across his chest. “Patrick,” he called out. “I need to talk to you.”

  “And a hello to you, too,” Patrick called back with deliberate cheerfulness. “What’s up?” He took the towel Amy was holding out to him. Stuart’s chilly demeanor seemed to have silenced her.

  His brother snorted. “Let’s talk in your office.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared.

  Patrick groaned at the sight of Amy’s unsettled expression. “You know he’s an ass,” he said placatingly.

  “It’s okay,” she replied with a shaky smile, trying to mask her feelings. “I’m sorry I ruined your clothes.

  “No big deal.” He gave her a hesitant look, debating whether to say something else. He contented himself with squeezing her arm reassuringly. Then he went to the house and caught up with his brother in the downstairs foyer. Instead of heading for his office, however, Patrick climbed the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” Stuart demanded.

  “I need to change,” Patrick retorted in the same grumpy voice. Stuart was following close on his heels. “Sometimes I could punch you, Stuart. Just grab you by the lapel of that coat of yours and beat some sense into you.”

  “Me?” his brother scoffed. “You’re the one who needs some sense beaten into him!”

  Patrick threw him a dark look over his shoulder and stepped into his room. “You’re an ass, Stuart, and you need to learn some manners.”

  “Manners?” His younger brother shook his head in disbelief and planted himself in Patrick’s doorway, his hands balled into fists. “That woman made your life a living hell, and what do you do? You bring her right back, give her a car, and splash around in the pool with her! Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  Scowling, Patrick unbuttoned his dripping shirt. “I don’t know how my marriage is any of your business!”

  “Good God,” Stuart said scornfully. “Is that where we are? You contemplating your marriage? Has she already managed to weaken your heart again?”

  “Stuart!” Patrick barked. “Do not talk about things you don’t understand!”

  “That is exactly the problem!” Stuart angrily raised a hand. “I don’t understand you! You should have filed for divorce years ago. And now it’s even more pressing that you set those wheels in motion and finally get that divorce, but you’re not doing anything!”

  “It’s not as simple as you think,” Patrick snapped. “We have a child.”

  “Barbara and James have two children, yet they’re already divorced.”

  “Amy and I are not Barbara and James,” Patrick growled.

  “Right.” Stuart nodded, giving his brother a disdainful look. “Because neither of them ever withheld their kids from the other.”

  Patrick stiffened, ready to punch his brother in the face. He could no longer stand the scornful tone Stuart used when speaking about Amy. “I’m sick of you meddling in my private affairs, Stuart. Amy and I need to deal with our issues on our own, and I won’t tell you again to stay out of my business!”

  “It’s my business if you make a fool of yourself for her!”

  “I’m warning you, Stuart!” Patrick hissed, his hands balling int
o fists. “You’re treading on dangerous ground.”

  “Are you sleeping with her?”

  “Shut up now!”

  But Stuart wasn’t done provoking him. He wrinkled his nose. “Do you have any idea how that will play out in court? When you accuse her of keeping your daughter from you, and she tells the judge you’re fucking her?”

  All Patrick could see was red. He swung, landing a blow on Stuart’s chin. His little brother gasped, reeling backward, and groaned in pain.

  “Motherfucker!” Stuart shook off his daze and gingerly pressed his fingers to his jaw. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

  “I told you to leave Amy alone!” Patrick yelled with genuine fury. “Don’t ever talk about her like that!”

  Stuart shook his head disdainfully. “She must be a real tiger in bed if you’ll pick a fight with me to defend her fucking honor. Do what you have to, but don’t you fucking dare come whining to me when she breaks your heart a second time!”

  ***

  Assuming Patrick and his brother had retreated to his downstairs office, Amy grabbed the sports coat he’d left beside the pool and headed upstairs.

  She went to her room first, took off her wet clothes, and slipped into a soft, cuddly track suit. Then she scurried across the hallway in her bare feet to drop off the coat while he was busy downstairs.

  Inside, she stood in their former bedroom and saw that nothing had changed in here.

  She closed the door behind her with a wistful sigh and shook out the elegant coat Patrick had worn to work. It gave off his scent, she noticed, as she draped it carefully over the back of a chair. She stood there for another moment and ran her hand across the coverlet on the bed.

  Just as she raised her eyes again, Patrick appeared on the other side of the room in the doorway to the bathroom. He stopped mid-step.

  He was stark naked.

  Amy felt as if a train had run her over, squeezing the last breath of air from her lungs. Automatically, her gaze traveled down his naked body, which was still wet from his shower and seemed to be giving off the steam that seeped from the bathroom behind him. It had been so long since she’d touched him, or even seen him naked, she should have forgotten long ago how broad his chest was, how prominent his biceps and abs, and how narrow his hips.

  But all of a sudden, she remembered it all, each string of muscle and every inch of his body familiar.

  Her mouth was dry and her knees weak, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away. Helplessly, her eyes traced the line of hair that descended from his chest and tapered out, directing her gaze to his penis.

  Her cheeks were aflame as she raised her eyes abruptly. “What are y-you d-doing here, for heaven’s sake?”

  “I think I live here,” Patrick said casually, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. He didn’t seem embarrassed by her presence, but Amy wanted the earth to open up and swallow her.

  Unfortunately, her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She could only croak, “You were supposed to be downstairs with Stuart!”

  “He already left.” Patrick shrugged and looked at her with bright curiosity—still naked, of course.

  “You left your coat by the pool!” She was sure her face was beet-red as she tried to explain herself. “I-I wouldn’t have come in here if … if …”

  “If you’d known I was naked?”

  “Yes!”

  His husky chuckle stole her breath. How could he laugh in such an awkward situation?

  “It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before.”

  She took a trembling breath. “That isn’t funny, Patrick.”

  He threw his towel aside, closed the distance between them, and leaned against a bedpost. “You’re right. It’s not.”

  Amy realized his eyes were now roaming her body with a decidedly lascivious expression. She fought a wave of dizziness when he whispered huskily, “You’re damn cute.”

  She stared at him, unable to move. He was very close now.

  Close enough to reach out a hand. “You know how cute you look in that pink outfit, don’t you?”

  She shook her head weakly, and when his thumb brushed the racing pulse at her throat, she felt like fainting. She swallowed with difficulty, as her nipples hardened, straining against the fabric of her jacket. A tingling heat began to pool at her core.

  “Patrick,” she whispered, breathing heavily. “Don’t …”

  His fingers found her neck and started massaging the sensitive area at her hairline. She couldn’t suppress a deep sigh. She closed her eyes as another wave of dizziness rolled over her. She needed to leave his room before they did something they shouldn’t, but her legs wouldn’t obey her. All she could think about was his steaming body and his hot breath brushing her cheek and her ear.

  When his lips touched her earlobe, she emitted a low moan. They moved down her neck, and she didn’t stop him, just let him run his tongue across her throat as if in a trance, leaving a wet trail he breathed against afterward. Her skin puckered with goosebumps.

  His hand slid under her jacket and caressed her bare back. She leaned against his hard chest, tilting her head back as he teased her throat with little nips and bites. He groaned, his voice raw and thick.

  Amy moaned his name, though a tiny voice in her head whispered that she couldn’t allow this to happen. When he pulled down the zipper of her jacket, she even managed to utter a tiny moan of protest.

  “Let me feel you,” he murmured, his left hand slipping into her pants and cupped her butt. His right hand caressed her belly, moving higher until it found her breasts.

  She moaned and stiffened as his palm began rubbing her hardened nipples. Her body pressed against his in an urge to feel more of him, and she felt his steely erection against her belly, robbing her of any last shred of rational thought.

  When he finally lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, Amy’s self-restraint evaporated. She clutched his shoulders with a loud moan, and his teeth closed gently around her nipple. His hand slipped into the crotch of her pants, his penis still pressed hard against her belly. She gasped when his fingers pushed into her wet opening.

  His voice was broken and muffled as he whispered, “God, I want you.”

  She merely moaned in reply, clutched his shoulders more tightly, and pushed against his pulsing erection. Her insides melted, and she never wanted to let go of him again.

  Whimpering, she rubbed against him. Releasing his shoulder, she ran her hand down his side, then his hip, before wrapping it around his shaft.

  Seconds later, she was lying on the bed as he tugged at her pants, and another moment more, he slid on top of her. Amy looked up at him, her heart beating wildly, and reached out to touch his face, which was unsmiling, almost impassive. He didn’t let her, catching her hand and pressing it into the mattress.

  The action stung.

  “Stuart thinks we’re sleeping together,” he said.

  She looked him, confused, not understanding what he was trying to tell her. “What?” she asked, her throat dry.

  But he didn’t answer. He lowered his head and sucked on her throat hard, then turned her over onto her stomach. She grasped at the sheets as he lifted her hips and entered her.

  She let out an involuntary cry. Even though she was wet for him, it hurt a little when he thrust in.

  Patrick must have heard her, for he paused, running his fingers up and down her spine slowly, before bringing his hands around and cupping her breasts. When one hand moved lower to find her clit, Amy lowered her head and uttered an aroused moan.

  Very slowly, he began to move inside her. “Are you okay?”

  Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t say anything. Instead, she pressed her bottom against his loins and lowered her upper body.

  His reply was a hoarse curse. Then he increased the tempo and grabbed her harder.

  Amy buried her face in the mattress. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure as he thrust into her, more deeply, and har
der.

  She heard him stammer something but didn’t understand what he was saying. An incredible tension was mounting between her legs—until it exploded, sending spasms through her entire body.

  He pulled out of her abruptly and flipped her over onto her back.

  Dazed, Amy opened her eyes and saw him lean over her again. He grabbed her hands and held them on either side of her head while his knees spread her legs. When he entered her again, she moaned loudly.

  “I don’t think I have any more in me,” she whimpered.

  He shook his head and pressed his belly against hers. “Are you sure about that?”

  She could feel him deep inside her, while the aftershocks of the orgasm pulsed through every vein in her body. She whimpered again.

  “That’s what I thought,” he panted.

  Amy wrapped her legs around his hips with an air of desperation. Her back arched as he thrust into her again.

  His thrusts came faster. Amy looked up at him. His face was contorted with lust, his eyes closed, his chin jutting out and his head thrown back.

  She wanted to touch his face, but he still had her hands trapped in his. And he hadn’t kissed her yet, she realized—not even once. Stunned, she closed her eyes again and felt a second orgasm building inside her. But, at the same time, she wished he would just kiss her.

  He moaned suddenly, and his thrusts became jerkier. Then he dropped down on top of her. Motionless, she lay under his heavy, hot body, felt his heart beating against her chest, and knew they were still connected, still joined, body and mind. She wanted to touch him, embrace him, and kiss him, but she sensed he wouldn’t want that now.

  Amy had just experienced one of the most intense climaxes he’d ever given her, and yet …

  With a lump in her throat, she closed her eyes. Something felt wrong. Why hadn’t he kissed her? And why did he roll off her now with a curse on his lips?

  He put the back of his hand over his eyes and lay next to her stiff as a log …

  She swallowed hard and ventured a look into his face. The bitter curve of his mouth and the grim expression made her feel queasy. All of a sudden, she felt used.