The Seduction of Shamus O'Rourke j-4

by N. J. Walters

  Taking her at her word, he hammered his hips against her. The slap of flesh was loud in the cavernous foyer. Their skin was slick, sliding easily as he drove himself into her. It was raw and elemental and more powerful then anything she'd ever experienced. And she wanted more.

  Fisting her hands in his hair, she tugged his mouth toward her breast. Shamus latched onto her nipple and sucked hard as he surged into her heated depths.

  Her head thrashed from side to side as the incredible pressure grew between her thighs. Shamus released her breast, hitched her higher and plunged faster and faster. Cyndi couldn't catch her breath and didn't care. She grabbed his shoulders and hung on as he pushed them both higher and higher. She felt herself toppling over the peak. “Shamus!” Her voice echoed around them as he yelled his release.

  The world around her dimmed. Heat flashed through her as she convulsed. Her inner muscles grabbed him tight as he continued to thrust. She cried out again as another wave washed over her. A bolt of pleasure hit her hard, and she could feel the liquid gush from her sex. Lost in the maelstrom of desire, she hung on to Shamus as she rode out the storm.

  When Cyndi finally came back to her senses, Shamus was leaning heavily against her, the weight of his body keeping her upright. Her legs had slipped from around his waist and her toes barely touched the floor. Her body was slick with perspiration, her hair plastered to her skull. She felt totally wrung out, yet totally replete. It was a struggle, but she raised her head to look at him.

  As if feeling her gaze, Shamus turned his head, staring at her for the longest time, as if searching for something. “Are you okay?"

  She could still feel him hard inside her. She didn't think she could speak, but she managed after a few moments. “Never better."

  He shook his head, but his gaze softening. “I didn't mean to jump you as soon as we closed the damned door."

  She could feel herself smiling. “I didn't mind.” She tunneled her hands into his hair, which had come loose from its usual ponytail. It was like silk as it flowed through her fingers. “In fact, I rather liked it."

  "Hang on.” He shifted then, slowly withdrawing. She felt his shaft flex once as if in protest and groaned as her sex tightened around him, wanting him to stay right where he was. Without his weight supporting her, she started to sink to the floor.

  Shamus grabbed her with one hand and braced himself against the wall with the other. “We're a mess."

  Cyndi laughed. She'd never done anything this wild or impulsive in her life. “We certainly are."

  Shamus hitched his jeans around his hips, and scooped her into his arms. She didn't think she'd ever get used to his strength and the easy way he carried her up the stairs and into her bathroom.

  Chapter Fourteen

  An hour later, Cyndi was clean and dressed. She and Shamus had just finished eating a quick lunch of canned chicken noodle soup and ham sandwiches, and were now touring the house, clipboard in hand.

  They were in the formal dining room with its dark burgundy walls and oak flooring. Cyndi threw back the heavy, velvet drapes to let some light into the room. “I want to get rid of the dining room table and chairs.” It was a monstrous thing that could seat two dozen easily. “I want to set this up as the dining room, of course. It's close to the kitchen and the flow-through is good.” She pointed to the doors on either end of the room.

  "But I want smaller tables scattered around to give people privacy as they eat their breakfast. Set up a large hutch against this wall.” She pointed to the head of the room. “Coffee, tea, muffins, and snacks could be left here for guests to help themselves during the day. I've been thinking I'd do breakfast and light lunch—soups, sandwiches and that kind of thing—and close the kitchen around two in the afternoon."

  "There's certainly enough space for it. There's not much work to do in here besides painting.” Shamus walked around the room, examining the walls.

  "A lot of the house is the same. It's just a matter of paint and changing the furniture and drapes.” She watched as he prowled around the room. There was something on his mind. She'd sensed it when he'd arrived and it hadn't gone away. She wanted to ask him what it was, but held back. He'd tell her when he was ready. Hopefully.

  There was no doubting that they were involved in a full-blown affair, but beyond that, she wasn't quite sure how deep their relationship went. She knew that she wanted more, but she was also realistic enough to know that the odds were stacked against them. Their age difference was enough of a barrier without adding their pasts into the mix.

  He'd stopped what he was doing and was staring at her. Cyndi cleared her throat and continued. “I'd like to see something lighter in here, maybe a sage green."

  "That would work. Or maybe a pale yellow."

  Cyndi noted both possibilities. “That could work, too."

  Shamus pointed to one large window overlooking the side garden. “You could easily put in French doors there that would lead right out into the garden. You could put in a patio and let guests eat outside in the summer months."

  "That's brilliant.” And it would certainly take advantage of the large, sculpted gardens. “I need to get some work done to whip the yard into shape. Like the rest of the place, it's too formal and needs some color and life.” She added the new projects to her growing list.

  They went through the downstairs making notes in the library, formal living room, and front parlor as well as her father's office. Finally, they landed back in the foyer.

  "What do you want to do in here?"

  Cyndi found her gaze going back to the spot just inside the door where they'd made love earlier. She knew she was blushing when she faced Shamus. She could feel the telltale heat on her cheeks. “Brighten up the place for sure. I want to change the lighting as well.” She wandered over to an alcove that held a large urn. “We could put a desk facing away from the wall here and make this the check-in area."

  Shamus took out a measuring tape that he'd gotten from his toolbox before they started their tour and walked over to where she was standing. “It's only three feet wide. We could widen it, give you a bit more space."

  She stood back and studied it. “Wouldn't that be a lot of work?"

  "Not that much. But if you didn't want to do that, I could build you a counter that wrapped around three sides, making it a small, enclosed area with a half door on the far end. That way you could have storage under the counter for your phones and paperwork and whatever else you needed. I could even build a small three-foot desktop into the alcove for you to work at or I could have one end of the counter low enough for you to sit and work there. It's up to you."

  She could see the possibilities. “I like the counter with one side low enough to sit and work. It's not as if I'd use it that often. I'm going to have an office area in my living space where I'd do most of my paperwork."

  "Sounds good. I'll draw up some plans for you to look at.” With his hand at the small of her back, he followed her up the stairs.

  They went through all the guest rooms first. Cyndi knew she was being cowardly, but she wanted to put off her father's room and her old room as long as possible. Like most of the rooms downstairs, the work was cosmetic, although she did want to update the bathroom fixtures and lighting in several of the rooms.

  Finally, they came to her father's room. She took a deep breath and put her hand on the doorknob. “I haven't been in this room yet."

  Shamus stilled beside her. “Not at all?"

  "No.” She shook her head. “This room was pretty much off-limits when I was a child.” Turning the handle, she pushed the door open.

  It was slightly stuffy, but other than that, it looked as if the original occupant might be back at any time. A small glass, half-full of water, sat on the bedside table alongside a picture of her mother. There was a pair of slippers tucked beneath the bed and a robe was draped over a wingback chair that sat to the left.

  Cyndi made herself take a step forward. Then another. She was very aware of the
fact that Shamus was right behind her. His presence steadied her, made it easier to face the ghost of her father.

  Looking away from the few personal belongings scattered on the top of the oak bureau, she forced herself to examine the room with a critical eye. “This is the largest room upstairs. I'd like to turn this into an executive suite or maybe the honeymoon suite."

  Shamus moved away from her side and strode to the other door and peeked inside. “Good idea. There's already a Jacuzzi in here."

  "Really?” That hadn't been there when she'd left. “It must be fairly new. At least within the past decade.” When she reached his side, she peeked around him. “This is definitely new, maybe within the past two or three years."

  The bathroom was huge, with the large tub in one corner. Low windows allowed for a view of the garden from the tub. All the fixtures were brushed nickel and the countertop was granite. Stone tiles on the floor complemented the rest of the decor, which was surprisingly light and airy.

  "I don't think that this room will need any work at all."

  Cyndi stepped into the room and fingered the towels. “Paint and some new towels should pretty much take care of it."

  Finishing her cursory inspection, she headed back to the bedroom, which was really a combination bedroom and sitting room. “The furniture is too dark and large for this room. I'd like to take out the desk and put in a sitting area where a couple could relax and chat or curl up and read. I'll probably put in a small entertainment center with a television, DVD player, and a selection of movies."

  "That's not a bad idea.” Shamus ambled around the room, checking the view from each window. “This is great. You get a good view of the town from here."

  "Yeah.” Cyndi traced her fingers over the frame holding her mother's photo. “That's why my ancestors built this house here. They liked being able to look out over what they considered to be theirs."

  Shamus turned away from the window and came to stand beside her. “What else do you want to do in here?"

  "Paint, drapes, and new linens, of course.” She leaned back into him when he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I'll have to check the attic for furniture, too. If there are any sofas or chairs up there worth keeping, I'll get them reupholstered to suit the rooms they're going in. I may bring a few of the chairs from the living room and parlor upstairs to use in the rooms."

  Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment. “I need to clean this room out, box up my father's clothing and give it to charity."

  "Yes, you do.” He leaned down and kissed her temple. “But not today."

  "No,” she agreed. “Not today.” Tomorrow or the next day was soon enough.

  "What's left?"

  "My rooms—the old one and the new one. I think that I'm going to make my permanent quarters in the room I'm staying in now. I want to take out the wall with the small bedroom next to it and create a bedroom and sitting room area. The bathroom is large and will work perfect after it's renovated. I want a new tub, flooring, vanity, and fixtures."

  Shamus laughed. “You want to gut it, in other words."

  "Pretty much.” She pulled away and headed for the door.

  "That's not a problem. I just hope the plumbing in this place is good or it's going to get expensive.” Once again, Shamus was right behind her, his presence like a talisman, holding the worst of her memories at bay. It had been surprisingly easy to walk around her father's room. Probably because she'd never spent any time there as a child.

  "That's not going to be a problem.” She closed the door behind her and headed down the hallway. Her room was next. “I found a bill in my father's papers. I haven't gone through half of them yet, but from what I saw, there was some major plumbing work done when he had the kitchen renovated a few years back. I think his bathroom and several more upstairs were probably redone at the time."

  "Now that you mention it, I seem to remember that. Your father didn't use a local company to do the work, but brought in someone from outside."

  Cyndi snorted. “Sounds like him."

  "I take it you'll be using local tradesmen."

  "If I can get them to work for me, I will."

  "That won't be a problem.” Shamus wrapped his hand around her upper arm, stopping her. “Cyndi.” The heat from his hand seeped into her skin, warming her. She hadn't realized she was chilly. “You don't have to do this today."

  She knew he was talking about her old room, but she was determined. She'd put it off long enough. “Yes, I do."

  He released her and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Okay, but promise me if it gets to be too much, you'll call it a day and try again tomorrow or the day after."

  "I will.” She was touched by his concern. Reaching out, she laid her hands on his chest, absorbing his strength and his warmth. “Having you here makes it easier."

  "I'm glad.” Leaning down, he brushed a kiss across her lips before straightening back to his great height. “Let's get this done.” Not waiting for her, he grabbed the doorknob, twisted, and pushed.

  The room was exactly the same as it was the last time she'd been here. Walking inside was like walking through a time warp. “This room needs to be gutted—clothing, belongings, furniture, carpet, the works."

  "Whose idea was it to put white carpet on the floor?"

  "Not mine.” Cyndi hauled open the closet doors. Designer clothing filled it from one end to another. “I should have the antiques dealer look at some of these. They might qualify as vintage. Most of it is designer stuff. She might know a resale store that would take them on consignment."

  "You don't want to keep any of it?” His deep voice penetrated her thoughts.

  "No.” She shivered. “I never picked any of it out anyway. I was always told what to buy, what to wear."

  Shamus tucked her beneath his arm. “You're cold. Why don't we get you a sweater and something warm to drink before we check out the attic?"

  Tilting her head back, she looked at Shamus. She could see the concern in his eyes, but it was tinged with sadness. Tentatively, she broached the subject that had been on her mind all afternoon. “What's wrong? You've been upset since you got here."

  Turning her in his embrace, he herded her toward the door. “I don't want to talk about it."

  "Okay.” Ouch! That certainly put her in her place. She glanced away, trying to hide her hurt, but he saw it anyway.

  "I don't mean to hurt you.” His hand tightened around her waist before falling back by his side. “I'm not shutting you out.” He closed the bedroom door behind them, locking the memories inside. “I need to think some things through, but for this afternoon, I don't want to think about my problems. I just want to enjoy being with you."

  "Fair enough.” She knew his problems probably had something to do with her, but there was nothing she could do to help until he talked to her. And he obviously wasn't ready to do that yet. “How about I grab a sweater and we go up to the attic and have a quick look around? When we have an idea what's there, we'll go downstairs and I'll make us some coffee or hot chocolate."

  "You sure?” Concern was etched on his face. Her heart turned over as he rubbed his hands over her arms to warm them. She soaked up all the loving care and kindness that he dispensed so easily. For a woman who'd never gotten that kind of attention from a man before, it was heady stuff.

  "I'm sure.” She patted his arm to try to reassure him. “Let me grab a sweater.” She hurried into her room and grabbed a warm, beige cardigan, tugging it on over her T-shirt while Shamus waited patiently outside her door.

  "Which way to the attic?"

  "Follow me.” She led him to the large storage closet at the end of the hallway and tugged open the door. Reaching out, she flicked on the light switch, bathing the room in a dim light. The closet was actually the actually the size of a small room, and immediately to the right of the door a set of stairs went upward.

  "Clever.” Shamus was obviously impressed as he followed her up the stairs.

  "Convenie
nt too.” Cyndi hadn't been up here in years. Not since she was a kid. When the lights worked, she gave thanks to the diligence of the staff that had worked here.

  "Wow.” She could hear the awe in Shamus’ voice. It echoed her own thoughts.

  "I always thought this place was magical when I was a kid.” The room was dusty and smelled stale, but not musty. Stuff was piled high, filling practically every square inch. “My family didn't believe in throwing things out.” She moved forward, lifting a dust cover and peering beneath. “Oh, look at this."

  Shamus grabbed the other end of the cloth tarp and lifted, revealing the frame of a large sleigh bed and matching dresser. “The workmanship is amazing.” He ran his hand over the wood grain.

  Cyndi shivered, but this time it wasn't because of the cold. Watching Shamus stroke the wood reminded her of how he'd touched her last night. “I want this for my room."

  "I don't blame you. It's a beautiful piece of work."

  They re-covered it and moved on. Like two kids in a candy store, they were eager to see what was beneath each covering. Shamus uncovered several more antique bedroom sets, while she found half a dozen chairs that would work perfectly when they were reupholstered.

  "Look at this.” She'd hit the mother lode in a far corner. “Tables.” There were five small tables that would sit four people at each. “These are perfect for the dining room."

  Shamus grabbed a large tarp close by and tugged. “Ah ha!"

  "What?” She turned and began to cough and sputter as dust filled the air.

  "Chairs."

  Cyndi waved her hand in front of her face, as she hurried over beside him. Sure enough, piled haphazardly on one another were easily fifteen to twenty chairs. “This is perfect. They don't all match, but they'll look amazing with all the seats covered in the same fabric. It will be charming and inviting, but not stuffy."

  "No. Not stuffy at all.” Shamus cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. “You've got dust all over your face."