by Lucy Francis
She rose over him, throwing the covers back, then straddled his hips. The hardness of his erection sent bright, hot need spiraling to her core. She pulled his shirt higher. He shifted to allow her to lift the cotton over his head, off his arms. He brought his arms down, resting his hands on her hips.
As she adjusted her legs closer to his sides, she slid her hips forward. He groaned and bucked against her once, then stilled himself and closed his eyes, breathing hard, his fingers flexing against her waist.
She didn’t want his hands still, she wanted them on her, caressing her. She leaned down, ran her tongue across his lips then kissed him deeply. She sat up again, began unbuttoning her shirt.
He stared at her fingers as she worked, his gaze dark and hot. She reached the final button and a moment’s uncertainty made her shiver. The intensity in his eyes fueled her determination. She shrugged the flannel from her shoulders.
He swallowed hard, shifting under her again. His hands tensed, grasping her hips, holding her against him.
He was waiting for permission, she realized. He was letting her set the pace, giving her full control.
She knew how much Curran disliked being the passive one, letting others be in charge. Yet, in this most intimate of negotiations, he gave her the lead. Her heart swelled with the love of him, recognizing his love for her. Even if she wanted to stop now, he’d abide by her wishes.
Stopping was the last thing she wanted to do. “Touch me, Curran. Please.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice. He lifted his hands, touched his fingertips to her collarbone, drew them lightly down over her breasts, across her ribs and stomach, leaving her skin alert and tingling. He caressed her, driving the throbbing inside her to a faster tempo.
It was safe to be in control, to be calling the shots, but Victoria recognized she had one hurdle to jump in order to fully give herself to him. She had to let him take charge. The only man she ever submitted to had used his power to hurt her. She had to trust Curran. She’d never be entirely over the past until she gave the control to him.
She lay against him, skin to skin, kissed him thoroughly, then wrapped her arms around his neck. She knew what she wanted to do, what she needed to do. How did she communicate that to him?
He stroked along her spine, pressed his lips to her shoulder, then gently shifted her onto her back. He rose up on his elbow, touched her face. “Do you want this, Victoria?”
She breathed the word yes, and his mouth covered hers as he took the power and control from her in a fluid, seamless shifting.
Curran’s pulse pounded as he pulled back to look at her. He traced her features with his fingertips, losing himself in her trusting gaze. Victoria’s willingness to let him love her humbled him, his heart so full of feeling for her it hurt. To his knowledge, he’d never disappointed his lovers, but this was the only time it ever really mattered. Knowing Victoria, knowing how difficult this decision must be for her, he was determined to make this the best experience he could. To somehow show her, in every touch, how very much he loved her.
He concentrated on kissing her, letting his fingers play across her skin. He dipped his head, followed the same path across her creamy flesh with his mouth, with his tongue. He lavished attention on her neck, her breasts, her abdomen, until her breath came fast and shallow, until she clutched at his shoulders, digging into his skin with her short nails. Only then did he slip his hand beneath the waist of her pajama pants.
Her lack of panties nearly undid him, as he caressed her hips, then reached lower. A moan thrummed deep in her throat, and she went completely still, barely breathing as he touched her. Concern flooded him. Was she struggling with her decision to let him make love to her?
Curran raised his head to look at her, relieved to see passion in her eyes rather than distress. “All good?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said softly. “Very, very good.”
He grinned, realizing her stillness came from focusing on his touch. He kissed her, then sat up. She lifted her hips as he tugged her pajamas off, quickly shedding his own.
He stretched out beside her, returned to touching her. He explored every inch of her, with his fingertips, with his mouth. She was perfectly real, from her lovely breasts to the pale, narrow marks networked across her skin from carrying a child. She’d carry his child one day. For now, she was all he needed. And she was his.
His own excitement and joy increased as he discovered her, learned the places, the touches that made her gasp, made her arch against him, made her cry out.
When he was sure neither of them could hold out any longer, he reached across the bed to the nightstand for one of the packets in the drawer.
Victoria watched him, the stark need etched on his face shooting a hot thrill through her veins, all the way to her toes. She feathered her fingers into his hair as he sheathed himself and nudged her legs open with his. He poised over her. She touched his face, his chest, relishing the desire in his eyes, the heat that echoed her own.
And then, as her gaze held his, he slowly joined them together. Her body stretched and gave, allowing him to fill her. He moved carefully at first, and she felt her soul twining with his as the rhythm built. The passion, the brilliant melding of emotion and physical craving grew so great she couldn’t bear it. She closed her eyes and clung to him. He held her as they drove each other higher, as every part of her seemed to swirl downward, drawn like light to a collapsed star, until everything pulled together in such exquisite sharpness she couldn’t breathe.
She went over the edge, and the release rolled through her in wave after wave, sending everything fluttering back to its proper place inside her. Curran shuddered as she clenched around him. With one last thrust, he met her in sheer bliss. He collapsed against her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, relishing his weight, feeling completely whole and absolutely loved for the first time in her life.
After a moment he stirred, shifted his weight off to her side, pulling her close to him. He deposited the gentlest of kisses on her forehead, her temple, her chin, her mouth. He looked into her eyes. “I love you.”
Happy tears sprang into her eyes and she smiled up at him. “I love you, too.”
He wiped the tears from her cheeks, then threaded his fingers through her hair and smiled. “You realize, of course, that you’re stuck with me now, my soon-to-be-Mrs. Shaw.”
She laughed and hugged him. “Mr. Shaw, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Epilogue
The Salt Lake International Airport was bustling on the tenth of May. Curran sat drumming his fingers against his thigh, watching passengers lining up to board, others disembarking from planes and hurrying down the corridor.
Mum would surely cry. Hell, he’d probably cry, just to have survived the flight.
He glanced at his phone display. He had about fifteen minutes until boarding call, and the sedatives the physician had given him were starting to kick in. If they’d timed it right, and his body responded properly to the medication, he should be relaxed enough to get on the plane, then conk out for a few hours. He had tablets to get him home to Oz and back again, hopefully without his usual panic attack surfacing.
It was all hopeful thinking at this point. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried medication over the years, but nothing before had worked well enough to get him on the plane.
His tapping fingers stilled when Victoria captured them with hers. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. “Feeling loopy yet, sweetie?”
“A little.” He looked into her bright eyes, filled with love for him, and sighed. “What if I can’t do this?”
“That’s a possibility. The doc said sometimes situational panic attacks are too strong to control with anything short of general anesthesia.”
“So if I still can’t board that plane—”
“Then we say, hey, we tried, and we send our wedding picture with Kelli.” She stroked his face. “Curran, it’ll be all right.”
&n
bsp; He lifted her hand, kissed her knuckles. “And you won’t think I am a hopeless wuss?”
“She won’t,” said Jamie from the seat opposite his. “But I will.”
“You know, mate, I do have the power to fire you.”
Jamie folded his newspaper and leveled a look at him. “I fully expect you to at least demote me when you move company headquarters to Salt Lake. Which, by the way, I hope you hurry up and do. Kelli won’t marry me until we can stay in Park City, and I can’t do that until you move my office.”
Kelli approached with Rob in tow. “Sorry, my love, this boy is not going to school in Los Angeles.”
“There are private schools.”
Rob hopped onto the seat next to Jamie. “But I like my school.”
Jamie grinned at the boy and ruffled his hair. “I know you do, bud. Don’t worry. Uncle Curry and I will iron this whole thing out while you’re on summer break.” He raised an eyebrow at Curran. “Yes?”
Curran broke into a smile. “Yeah, as soon as we get back from Australia, we’ll get to work.”
The boarding call for their flight’s first class passengers sounded over the loudspeaker. Curran’s heartbeat doubled and his mouth went dry. He met Victoria’s gaze, a glimmer of worry behind her smile. He stood up with her and the world tilted slightly. Together, they walked toward the attendant, Victoria’s arm supporting him around his waist. She handed their boarding passes to the smiling young woman, who welcomed them aboard.
They stepped into the skyway. The jet itself was only a few yards’ walk through this tube. His lungs constricted. Victoria stopped and turned to him, placed her hand against his cheek. “Curran, breathe. Come on, yoga breaths, with me.”
She breathed slowly, deeply, and Curran focused on her, blocking everything else out of his mind. He followed her, drew air with her, until his head cleared a little, and his heartbeat no longer felt like a jackhammer.
Somehow, he got through the rest of the skyway and found himself settled in his aisle seat. Victoria stowed their carry-ons and sat beside the window. When they eventually flew over the ocean, she’d close the little shade over the portal so he couldn’t see out. If he couldn’t see the ocean, he could pretend he was still safe over dry land.
As Jamie, Kelli and Rob settled into their seats across the aisle, Victoria bracketed his face with her hands and kissed him hard. She eased back and looked into his eyes. “You’re going to be okay, Curran. You can do this.”
He nodded and snuggled her close to him, breathing her perfect scent deep into his lungs. Yeah, the medication was making a difference. But the biggest difference of all was right here, in his arms. She faced her deepest fears, he could damn well face his. And with Victoria by his side, he could do anything.
His mum was going to love meeting his bride.
Thank you for reading Mending Fences.
If you enjoyed Mending Fences, I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy it, too.
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Thanks!
Lucy
About The Author
Lucy Francis grew up with characters living in her head, clamoring for attention. Whether those characters were elves, knights, aliens or earthlings, she listened and wrote their tales, which always included love. She still listens, plays matchmaker, and scribbles the resulting stories. Lucy has lived all over the United States, but calls Utah home. She lives with her husband, five children, and a pet menagerie that once included nine different species. She loves horses, fixing broken things, Irish dancing and tending the urban forest she planted in her front yard.
Visit Lucy Francis at http://www.lucyfrancis.net
http://www.facebook.com/lucyfrancisauthor
http://www.goodreads.com/lucyfrancis
Twitter: @LucysKissyBooks
Here is a
sneak preview of the next book in the Heart’s Redemption series:
Finding Refuge
By Lucy Francis
Coming Summer, 2012
Chapter One
Travis Holt sat in his truck, eyes closed, fingers clenched around the steering wheel. Melancholy seeped out of the prison inside him and he brutally shoved it back into place. Lunch hadn’t helped his mood any, and he still had several hours of work left for today. He didn’t have the time to feel anything.
A gentle breeze wafted through the half-lowered window, brushing over his face and ruffling his hair. He drew a deep breath of air touched with the scent of warming earth. The smell of spring that was so late in coming this year. He missed the way things used to be, when spring arrived on schedule in March, and summer was in full bloom by the time the end of May rolled around. June was always hot when he was a kid, but the last several years in Utah had seen snow in the mountains and cold, wet weather in Salt Lake valley until the middle of June.
He hated it. Just one more frustrating thing in his life that he couldn’t control. The misery squeezed him hard, and he opened his eyes and fought back: turning on the truck, cranking up the stereo, heading for the next stop in his packed Monday list of crap he had to do. Thinking about the past didn’t do him any good at all. Neither did the present, really, but at least if he stayed rooted in the here and now, living moment by moment, the knowledge that he was a failure didn’t swamp him completely.
He sang with the rock anthem pounding through the speakers, distracting himself from the weight of his life. Because the awful truth nagging at the edges of his thoughts was that he’d reached the limit of what he could carry. One more thing dropped on top would push him under. He’d drown. If he didn’t acknowledge that fact, he’d make it through every day, no matter what hit him.
Travis pulled into the driveway of the sprawling, French Country-style mansion sitting high on the Mount Olympus foothills. His client had spent a hell of a lot of money for a spectacular view lot, and Travis believed the man truly got what he paid for, with the primarily glass rear of the new house facing the valley. As he exited his truck, he noted the vehicles of the plumbing and electrical subcontractors parked on the drive. He crossed the path through the newly landscaped yard to the covered front porch.
His parents would have preferred he live in a home like this, preferably near them in Federal Heights. But he’d never give up his little chalet in Midway. The mountain town gave him room to clear his head. Living there, even with the daily commute, kept him sane.
Travis walked into the high-ceilinged, stone-paved foyer. Plastic sheeting covered the floor, protecting it from dirty workboots. Martin Delgado, the job supervisor, stood beyond the foyer in the open, airy sitting room, talking on his cell phone. Travis waved, and Delgado quickly ended his call.
“Hiya, boss,” Delgado said, clipping his phone onto his belt.
“Are we on schedule?”
Delgado snorted. “Of course, man, you think I’d let you down?”
Travis smiled. “Good, because I’m talking to Mr. Jasper five times a day, and if this place goes into overtime, I may strangle him before he ever gets the keys.”
“I feel for you. It’s almost done. Rachel’s putting up the fixtures and plates and Harley is just about done with the finish plumbing.”
“Okay. I’m going to have a look around so I can tell Jasper I was here in person, and everything’s fine.”
Delgado laughed and reached for his phone when it beeped. “You do that, Travis. I’m glad I’m not you.”
Yeah. Being me is even less fun that it
looks. Travis went up the wide, lavishly milled, curving stairs, meaning to give the house a look from the top floor down. His intentions flew out the nearest window when he walked into the master suite and found himself staring up at the most perfectly curved rear-end he’d ever seen poured into faded denim. Sweetly rounded below a narrow waist, it was the sort of ass that women were forever trying to work off even though men begged for more.
He refocused, shaking off the buzz of appreciation zipping straight to his groin, and forced himself to take in the whole picture. The woman stood too far up for safety on a six-foot ladder, facing the opposite wall. She twisted a light bulb into the pewter fixture on the coved ten-foot ceiling. His gaze wandered up to dark brown, wavy hair. Pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, the waves cascaded down the length of her red t-shirt, swaying at the top of her hips. He’d expected to find Rachel Garrett, his electrician. This tiny, curvy thing was definitely not Rachel.
“Who are you?” he asked.
She didn’t respond. He stepped forward. “Are you here with Rachel?” He reached out and tapped the heel of her red tennis shoe. “Hello?”
She jumped at his touch, turning toward him as she took a hasty step down.
Her foot missed the ladder rung.
Travis reacted instantly, catching her as she fell, stepping back so she didn’t hit the ladder.
A surge of fire blew through his system on the heels of the adrenaline rush, the heat pulsing through his chest as he held her, as his mind identified where he ended and she began. One arm held her around her waist, the other wrapped across her legs below her hips. For a moment, she stayed where she’d landed, half over his right shoulder, then she straightened. That position brought her breasts to eye-level. Her t-shirt, caught between them, molded against her, making it damn near impossible for Travis to swallow.
Heart pounding, Travis forced his gaze upward, meeting her dark brown eyes. The confusion in them threw ice water on his hormones. Small hands pressed against his shoulders and he loosened his hold on her, trying to ignore his physical interest as she slid down his frame to the floor.