by Trish Wylie
And Shannon’s heart twisted at the simple tenderness of it, her neck tilting to the other side, eyelids heavy, as his attention moved to her other ear—repeating the action.
And his gaze locked with hers again while she stared back up at him.
Then his fingertips brushed from her bare shoulders, down each of her arms, until he touched the bracelet on one wrist and lifted the arm to carefully remove it. Setting it silently onto the dresser before his gaze came back to lock with hers.
And still he didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. Because, as his attention went to the pendant lying at the base of her throat, his gaze following the line of the chain until he had to tilt his head over one bare shoulder to unhook the tiny clasp, he was saying more without words—his gentleness and careful focus on each task touching her deep inside her soul in the same way that he had when he had first made love to her.
He let the pendant slide down a little between her breasts, watching the reaction in her eyes before it too joined the other items on the dresser. Then his hands lifted again, fingertips brushing along each side of her neck, teasing the sensitive nerve endings awake as he searched up into the intricate knot of her hair for the clips that held it in place.
Shannon closed her eyes as he drew each one free, her weight swaying forwards off her high heels as she tried to compensate for her wobbling knees. As the last clip was placed on the dresser, she opened her eyes, knowing before she did that he would be looking at her as his fingers drew her hair down around her face and over her shoulders.
‘Shake it loose for me.’ He stepped back a little to watch as she tossed her head from side to side.
Confidence growing exponentially by the second, she smiled as her hair fell around her face, Connor seeming to revel simply in watching her.
Using his hands on her shoulders to turn her around, so that she could see the two of them reflected in the mirror above the dresser, he continued smiling as he watched her expression change, her eyes wide with wonder at the sight of her hair cascading in unfamiliar soft waves around her face, rising to look at the flush on her cheeks, before they rose further and locked with his.
‘I don’t think you know how beautiful you are.’ He smoothed her hair back, running his fingers down through the long silky length until he was tracing the rise and fall of the ridges of her spine, which made Shannon arch her back, her head falling back against his shoulder. ‘You always were.’
Not that it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but, ‘No, I wasn’t. Don’t you remember? I had braces for years.’
‘No, I don’t remember that. And you’re trying to ruin a compliment that I’m not taking back.’
She nodded her head up and down against his jacket. ‘I did, though—from fifteen to seventeen.’
‘Ah.’ He nodded, turning his head to press a kiss against her hair. ‘The shy and quiet years. You see, you weren’t a pain in the ass until you turned eighteen.’
Shannon nudged him with her elbow.
But even though he chuckled, he was already moving his hands up her spine, turning his fingers to brush the backs of his hands over her shoulder blades, pushing her forwards an inch or two so he could tilt her head forwards, smooth the hair from her neck and undo the tiny hooks of the dress’s halter-neck.
The soft material slid down over her breasts in a whisper, leaving her staring at her reflection as his hands smoothed round to flatten over her ribcage, fingers splaying, his eyes fixed on hers in the mirror.
Shannon laid her head back again, tearing her gaze from his, so that they were both watching as his hands rose, cupping her breasts with such tenderness.
How could anyone blame her for wanting this?
But as his fingers moved, teasing her nipples into hard buds, she moaned, her lips parting to gasp in air—because it was almost too slow, too torturous to stand.
And Connor knew what he was doing to her, his head turning so that he had access to her neck—his lips leaving a string of butterfly-soft kisses on her skin before he whispered in her ear, ‘And just think, we haven’t even got started yet.’
She moaned in frustration. Then in annoyance as he freed her breasts and set her away from him again. But she should have known he wasn’t stopping. So when she felt his fingers against the skin of her lower back and heard the soft hiss of the zip being lowered, she pursed her lips together, her gaze rising to watch his reaction as the dress slid to the floor and she stepped out of it, turning to face him.
Connor’s face changed, a look of the same torture she had been feeling written all over him. When she tilted her head, her hair falling over one side of her face, one hip tilted towards him, he frowned, stifling a low groan as he looked up into her eyes.
‘I’ve spent half of the night wondering what you were wearing under that dress that was so invisible.’
‘I have a thing about nice underwear.’ She glanced down at the sheer lace thong, stay-up stockings with their equally lacy top, and her ridiculously impractical strappy heels. ‘And shoes. Shoes are my weakness.’
When she looked up, Connor was swallowing hard, his eyes a midnight black. ‘Don’t ever, ever lose either of those weaknesses. In fact. The stockings and the shoes can stay on. Seriously.’
No one had ever told her that to have a man like Connor so very visibly weak at the knees was such a huge turn-on. Someone so strong in body and in character hanging by a thread because he wanted her that badly—and she could see that in his eyes, in the clench of his jaw, the single, tiny bead of sweat that trailed down along the side of his gorgeous face.
She’d never felt so close to him before. They were truly equal in their weakness for each other.
‘So, this torturous thing—that’s supposed to be a one-way deal, is it?’
His dark eyes widened briefly at the question, his voice a low grumble. ‘Sweetheart, if you don’t think I’m tortured over here then you have no idea of how you look right now wearing what you’re wearing.’
‘Well, then…’ she stepped closer, looking up at him from beneath long lashes
‘…shouldn’t you be wearing less?’
Connor held his arms out to his sides. ‘Be my guest.’
With another smile, she focused on pushing his jacket off his broad shoulders, Connor lowering his arms to help her out. Then she turned her attention to the small pearl buttons on his shirt, purposefully taking her time slipping each one free.
‘Not that there isn’t something incredibly sexy about a man in a dress shirt with a bow-tie loose around his neck. Many a fantasy has been launched on that image.’
‘You just let me know what your fantasies are and I promise to do my very best to oblige…’
Her fingers still working on the buttons, she looked upwards, biting down on her lip as she thought. ‘Mmm…’
Connor groaned again, the sound a low rumble in the base of his throat. ‘Don’t do that.’
Shannon blinked innocently at him. ‘Do what?’
‘Make that noise while you bite down on your lip.’
‘Why?’ She smiled mischievously. ‘What’s that a sign of? You’re the one that knows me so well.’
‘It’s not a sign of anything,’ He leaned in and suckled on the side of her neck again, his voice muffled against her skin. ‘It’s what you do when you come. Remind me and I’ll let you know when you’re doing it again, which incidentally…’ his head rose as she undid the final button, her knuckles grazing against the flat skin above his trousers ‘…I intend making you do again and again tonight.’
Shannon’s hands flattened out against his abdomen, smoothing up, fingers tracing over each of his ribs, while she revelled in the sensation of warm skin over tight muscle. ‘All those years in the gym business stood you in good stead, didn’t they?’
He grinned proudly as she slid the shirt off him, ‘Very important to create the right impression for the clients, I feel.’
‘Very.’ She nodded in agreement, her hands already on the button
of his trousers as she smiled again. ‘I’m not the only beautiful one in the room.’
A look of chagrin was aimed her way. ‘Men aren’t beautiful.’
‘This one is.’ With the zip undone she slid the palms of her hands under the waistband and the edge of his underwear, bending her knees as she slid them both down his legs, her eyes full of what was hers to take. She could torture him to a whole other level if she—
‘Shannon, don’t even think about it.’ He reached down, hands under her arms to pull her back upright. ‘I meant it when I said I was tortured already. You do that and it’ll take me at least a half hour to recover enough to do what I plan on doing.’
She chuckled. And he chuckled back in return, crushing her to him as he spun them in a circle to the edge of the bed. ‘You’re a witch.’
‘Not with anyone else, I’m not.’
They stopped with the back of her knees against the mattress, Connor’s expression and tone fierce as she swiped her hair out of her eyes.
‘Never with anyone else. Ever again.’
‘Connor—’
It was too much. And the fear of a promise made that might not be kept must have sounded in her voice, because he silenced her with a, ‘Shh…’
And finally, for the first time in what felt like for ever, his mouth came down on hers in a heated kiss, placing a seal on his possessive words. He stole the air from her lungs, traced the parting of her lips with his tongue, until her mouth opened on a moaning sigh and she met him touch for touch, taste for taste, her hands rising to frame the strong lines of his face, her fingers threading back into his hair to draw him even closer.
But it still wasn’t close enough. She wanted him as close as a man could be to a woman.
She wanted him to fill her body, to take away any semblance of the emptiness she had felt without him for the last three days.
With his strong arms wrapped around her slender frame, he lowered her to the bed with a reverence that belied the ravage of his tongue inside her mouth.
He encouraged her without words to move further up the mattress, by using his arms to lift her a little, by then moving his hands down to the backs of her knees to lift her legs one by one as he removed her thong—her high heels pressed against the edge of the bed when he threw it over his shoulder. Then, with a long groan, he tore his mouth from hers.
‘Back in a minute.’
Shannon rose onto her elbows to watch with amusement as he sought out his discarded jacket, retrieving the small box that he then ripped open—tossing it on the bed near her when he had what he sought. And Shannon turned to find it, lifting it to look up at him in challenge while she waved it back and forth.
‘You only brought three?’
‘A bumper pack would have been seen under my jacket.’ He grinned at her. ‘Don’t worry, I can be creative.’
Then he was over her again, balancing on his elbows as he framed her face, his thumbs teasing the corners of her mouth. ‘Now, where were we?’
Shannon framed his face in return, her eyes gleaming up at him as she ran her tongue over her lips and drew his head down. ‘Right here.’
The kiss was slower, softer, warming her heart in places that had been so badly hurt in the past that she had closed them off so she wouldn’t feel anything there ever again.
She bent her knees more, making a cradle for him to rest in as she wrapped her calves around his, creating static where her stockings brushed against the hair on his legs. And still they kissed, Connor’s head lifting only long enough for him to kiss her from another angle while he pressed the tip of his erection against her slick heat.
Shannon writhed beneath him, her breathing rapid and shallow, her hips rising to meet him, inviting him deeper, pleading silently for him to end the torture.
When he slid his full length into her she wrenched her mouth from his, her head arched back into the covers as she gasped his name, his mouth on her jaw, on her neck, his teeth nipping against her collarbone. And all the while he was starting a slow rocking of his hips, building the knot of tension inside Shannon until she thought she might die if she didn’t find a release soon.
‘Connor—’ She gasped his name again, looking up into his face as he rose above her on arms that shook as he tried to hold himself in check—his chest grazing back and forth so that her over-sensitized breasts were teased by coarse chest hair, creating a delicious friction that sent her closer and closer to the edge. ‘Connor!’
The constant gasping of his name and the little sighs and moans that she made seemed to drive him equally close to the edge, the struggle evident on his face and beneath her hands as she grasped at the taut muscles of his upper arms while he increased the rhythm, pushing into her a little harder with each stroke.
And when she began to buck beneath him in the throes of pleasure, her teeth biting down firmly on her bottom lip, he smiled briefly, then his body went rigid and a long, low groan of satisfaction pierced the air as he rested his forehead against hers.
Shannon looked up at his closed eyes, her body still trembling as the last ripples of intense pleasure spread out from her abdomen into every nerve ending of her body. She listened to their matched heavy breathing, felt the hard beat of his heart pressed against her own. And the overwhelming sense of love she felt for him was so complete that she just wanted to stay where they were for ever. To freeze the moment, to never have to visit a place where they weren’t this close.
But there would be a day of reckoning, wouldn’t there?
No matter if they managed to work everything else out, no matter how happy they were together—the day would come. It was just the way it was.
When he opened his eyes, he did it slowly, so that she had time to force the telltale pain from her eyes, instead smiling up at him with the smile of a woman who had just been taken to heaven and back.
‘Well, hello, there. How you doin’?’
He grinned down at her. ‘Not too shabby, as it happens. And I don’t need to ask you—
you’re pretty vocal. Not that I’m complaining about that.’
Shannon giggled—an amazing sound to both of them—as she remembered how long it had been since she had last giggled that way and Connor pulled her on it by scowling ridiculously.
‘Oh, there’s something amusing is there?’
‘Only that I’m still wearing my stockings and shoes.’
‘And rightly so too.’ He took a long moment to kiss her, his mouth then peppering small kisses over her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead, then back to her mouth. ‘So, which side of the bed do you want?’
The thought of spending a night wrapped in his arms almost brought tears to her eyes.
This time she wasn’t going to sneak away while he slept and he wasn’t going to leave her on her own. Bliss.
‘I want whatever side of it you’re on.’
‘I tend to sprawl in the middle—’ he wriggled their still-joined bodies further up the bed
‘—and hog the duvet.’
‘I believe that. But with a little training we might make you more considerate; given the time.’
When he looked down at her, his gaze was intense, his words deeply sincere. ‘We have time.’
But no matter how she tried to convince herself that could be true, as Connor moved to remove her shoes and stockings before drawing her into his side she just knew that it wasn’t. She was already on borrowed time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MARIO BOUNDED INTO the end of the reading session as the last child was leaving. ‘I tell ya. You can wait all day for a bus in this town and then two just roll in at the same time. It’s always the way, isn’t it?’
Shannon laughed at him. ‘Have we had one too many coffees this morning, precious?’
He leaned in against her side. ‘What is it with you and tall, dark and handsome men at the minute? Did you change your deodorant? ’Cos if you did, I might need to know what brand you’re using…’
‘What are you tal
king about you loon?’
Mario lowered his voice to a stage whisper. ‘Well, there’s another very beautiful man in the foyer looking to talk to you. I told him you were spoken for but he still wants to see you…’
Shannon played along. ‘Did he happen to say who he was?’
‘He did. Just his first name, though…’
She smiled encouragingly. ‘And do I get to know what that name is?’
‘Rory. Suits him actually. Though I should warn you, this one is wearing a wedding ring.’ He held his left hand up and tapped his ring finger. ‘So even though you are spoken for, be careful. Don’t get suckered in by a “my wife doesn’t understand me” story…’
Connor smiled in satisfaction as he pushed open the inner door to find scaffolding half dismantled in the foyer. The work was almost done—which was just as well with the big party planned for that weekend.
It had taken nearly a solid twenty-four hours in bed to persuade Shannon that she should help him set up a community-owned trust to manage the place, even after he had tried playing the ‘tax exempt to a charity’ card. Not that he had in any way, shape, or form had a problem with the persuasion part. And it had been worth it to see her come alive with the project, her astute gaze never missing a trick with the building contractors who had worked wonders inside a few short weeks.
She even demonstrated her enthusiasm and rewarded him with another twenty-four hours.
Connor officially loved Sundays now.
‘Well, hello, lover.’
He grimaced at Mario’s greeting. He wasn’t sure he would ever adjust to a six-foot male who wore pink. No matter how much respect he had for the way Mario looked out for Shannon’s welfare like some kind of loyal Great Dane.
‘Hello, Mario. Where is she?’
‘Who?’
Connor shook his head, smiling in resignation.
‘Oh, you mean Shannon. She’s upstairs. I’ll lock up down here before I leave. Though I should warn you—I think she’s ticked off at you. Just so you have a heads up.’
‘Any idea what the builders did this time?’