Then she tugged his head down to hers, and led the way into their next kiss, teasing his tongue into an intimate duel, nipping at his bottom lip. Their gaze, when it connected, showed her eyes dancing with joy as well as drenched with desire. The tug in his heart was hard and insistent, and he knew then that he was way past the point where he could protect himself.
He carried her past the series of hand-painted screens she’d set up to create a wall of sorts, between the area she used as a bedroom and the main living space. He was surprised to see what looked like an ocean of bed. It was low to the ground, but she’d made up for its knee height with a thick mattress pad, a puffy, sky blue duvet, and more pillows than he’d seen, collectively, in his entire life. “I’m not sure there’s room for us,” he said, keeping her wrapped around him.
“What, a man who throws boulders around for a living is going to let a few pillows stop him?”
He grinned. “Fair point,” he said, then tossed her on the bed, surprising a squeal from her as she landed among pillows on the duvet, sending several of the former bouncing off the bed and almost getting swallowed up by the latter.
He followed her down, pushing pillows aside, and her hair from her face. She was spluttering and laughing as he pinned her to the bed with the weight of his body. Affection for her rose up so sharp and deep it caught his heart in a tight fist and held it there. The power of the feeling allowed the first tiny slivers of guilt to niggle their way in. He knew this was not wrong. In fact, other than marrying Zoey and having Jake, this felt like one of the most right things he’d ever done in his life.
“It’s okay if you need more time,” she said softly, reaching up to stroke the side of his face, clearly having seen his moment of doubt.
That her first instinct had been to take care of him, put his needs first, undid him. His gaze moved to hers and he searched her eyes, soft as fine cashmere now. She was smiling up at him, her eyes filled with support and affection . . . no worry, or worse, pity, to be found no matter how deeply he searched.
“The only thing I want more time for is this,” he said, and turned his head to capture her finger between his lips.
She gasped, then moved under him, her hips lifting into his when he drew her finger into his mouth. He slid her finger free, then pinned that hand to the bed, leaning down to take her mouth again, only this time the intensity was meant to assuage physical need, finally giving lust and desire the upper hand. She accepted the change in tempo readily, almost greedily.
She tipped her head back, her lovely eyes closed now as she gave him access to the tender skin on the side of her neck, and lower still, as he nudged the wide neckline off one shoulder, shifting his weight to trail kisses downward. By the time he slid her shirt up and she all but wrenched it over her head, she was writhing beneath him. She was completely new and foreign to him, and he reveled in learning her body, finding her sweet spots, her erogenous zones, her sensitive places. He made her gasp, made her moan, and even laugh when he found a ticklish spot, which charmed him even as it ratcheted up his need for her.
When he started to roll down the waistband of her leggings, she laid one hand over his wrist and tipped her head up to look at him. His chin was resting on her belly button, and he smiled at her wild hair and even wilder eyes. “You look like someone has been ravaging you,” he said.
“God, I hope so,” she replied, and they both laughed.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked when her hand stayed his.
“God, I hope not,” she said, and he chuckled. “I just thought I’d point out the rather stark inequity between the amount of clothing I have on, and the layer upon layer of clothing you’re still wearing.”
“Ah,” he said, and moved back up her body, laughing outright when her bottom lip plumped out in a pretty pout. He kissed her mouth, then took that plump lower lip between his teeth before kissing her again until she was writhing once more. “I promise I’ll return to what I was doing.” He rolled to his back. “Just as soon we resolve that inequity issue.”
Her eyes lit up as she rolled to her side. “Oh, well, that is a plan I can get behind.”
He reached for her and pulled her across his chest.
“Or on top of,” she said, and leaned down to kiss him.
It was remarkable to him how comfortable this was. The heated, no-holds-barred hunger that had driven them to this point had somehow settled in to a more thoughtful, slower-paced, intentional seduction. He wasn’t holding any of himself back, couldn’t have if he’d wanted to. It was that certainty, that deliberate intent that kept any sense of guilt or wrongdoing from creeping in. Nothing about making love to Hannah Montgomery was ever going to make him feel anything less than exultant.
She began to unbutton his shirt, kissing his chest through the T-shirt he wore underneath. “So many layers,” she murmured.
“I could help with that.”
She raised her head and caught his gaze. “Fair is fair,” she said, and continued on her path down his torso. “Besides, I’ve had too many fantasies about this white T-shirt.” She glanced up again, grinning boldly. “Well, to be exact, the fantasies were more about you out of this T-shirt, but either way . . .”
His eyebrows climbed at that revelation. “Fantasies,” he said. “About me?”
She laughed. “You say that as if you can’t fathom what about you would make a woman fantasize.” She tugged his shirt free from the waistband of his black jeans. “Yet another one of your endearing qualities.”
He let his head fall back to the bed as if in shock. “Endearing? Are you sure you know who you’re in bed with?”
She giggled and climbed up his body then, kissing him quite deliberately, and so very tenderly on his mouth. It tightened his throat and tugged once more at his heart. She waited for him to open his eyes; hers were shining when he did.
“I’m very, very certain about that,” she said softly, then kissed him again.
He reached for her face, rolled them both to their sides, and slowly moved on top of her.
“I wasn’t done with my T-shirt fantasy yet,” she murmured against his mouth between kisses.
He reached behind his neck and pulled off his T-shirt and his unbuttoned shirt in one smooth motion. They joined her cotton top . . . somewhere. Then he lowered himself back down on top of her, his bare flesh meeting hers for the first time. “God, you feel good,” he said on a long, satisfied groan.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” she said with a deep, satisfied sigh, and nestled more snugly against his chest. She slid one legging-clad leg between his still jean-clad legs. “Imagine what it will be like when . . .” She slid her leg higher between his.
He all but growled then, and pinned her leg before she could rub it any higher. “About that,” he said, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes as he realized something else.
“What? What is it?” she asked, shifting a little so she could look at him.
He opened his eyes and lifted his head just enough to meet her gaze. “When I dropped by here, I wasn’t expecting . . .” He nodded to their current entanglement. “Let’s just say I’m not as prepared as I’d hoped to be when this moment finally arrived.” He let his head drop back to the bed and gave it a little shake.
To his surprise she laughed. Actually, it was more of a giggle, and he cracked open one eyelid and peered up at her. “I’m definitely not doing this right if you’re amused rather than disappointed. Crushed might be too big an ask, but—”
She giggled all over again and he found himself grinning as well, and rolled her to her back, pinning her underneath him as her giggles turned to breathless laughter.
“Some men might find your laughter a bit emasculating,” he said, right before capturing her mouth with his.
Her eyes were still filled with mirth, but it was the other things he saw there, too, that made him realize how much more was really happening between them right now than the discovery of naked bodies and how they m
ight bring each other pleasure with them. She looked confident and joyful, two of the traits that had pulled him toward her from the beginning, like a cold, dormant plant seeking the warmth of a bright, shining sun. But it was the sincere affection that went along with that shining light that grabbed hold of the final part of his heart. Because he understood that feeling. Intimately. He had no idea if she saw that when she looked at him, but it didn’t change the fact that he felt it.
“You just looked so forlorn, like someone had taken away your favorite toy.” She kissed him again. “I appreciate that protection is important to you. It is to me, too.” She kissed him again, and yet again. Short, sweet kisses. “I’m guessing—hoping—we’ll find ourselves in this particular situation again.” She waited for him to look at her. “I want you, Will McCall,” she said, quite simply. “And it’s thrilling to know you want me back. So, I’m okay if we don’t do everything all at once.”
He was struck silent by her honesty and her willingness to simply say what she was feeling. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said, determined to show her the same courage and trust she was showing him. “Your kindness, your patience, your generosity.” He leaned down and took her mouth, slowly this time, and as tenderly as he was able. When he lifted his head, saw the desire and happiness in her eyes, nothing else existed for him in that moment. It had been a very, very long time since he’d felt this particular type of contentment. He hadn’t thought to ever feel it again. It was both terrifying and utterly humbling.
To give himself time to process the myriad of thoughts and feelings ricocheting around inside him, he slowly began kissing his way down her torso.
She laughed and squirmed beneath him, gasping as he continued his foray downward. “Will, you don’t have to—we can wait.”
He glanced up and wiggled his eyebrows when she looked down at him. “Are you sure?” he asked, the words muffled as he was clenching the waistband of her leggings between his teeth.
She erupted in giggles, but didn’t push him away, then arched off the bed hard when he finally reached her most sensitive spot. She reached for him then, but only to tangle her fingers in his hair, writhing against him now, alternately whimpering and moaning. “Will,” she gasped, as he dipped his tongue inside her. A moment later she shuddered, then shattered, her moans turning to shouts as she climaxed, then climaxed again, until she was shaking with it.
He pulled her leggings the rest of the way off, then moved up the bed and gathered her into his arms, holding on, kissing her hair as she curled into him, aftershocks still vibrating through her, her breath coming in short pants.
He didn’t realize it until she finally looked up at him, her eyes still hazed with pleasure, but he was grinning. Like a mad fool. Like he’d just accomplished the most amazing feat in the world. It said a lot that despite the enormous level of discomfort he was feeling in his lower extremities, the only thing he was thinking about at that moment was when he could do that for her again, and what other kinds of pleasure he could give her.
Then she was sliding her hand down his torso and unbuttoning his jeans. “Hannah,” he said, his gaze shooting to hers. “It’s okay, really—”
“It certainly is,” she said, slipping her hand under the waistband and edging the zipper downward.
Now it was her turn to wiggle her eyebrows, and if he hadn’t been using every last shred of his self-control to keep from going off in her hand like a rocket, he’d have burst out laughing at her sweet payback. As it was, he simply did his best to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head as she took her sweet time kissing her way down his torso. He made one last halfhearted effort at stopping her, then he gave up, gave in, tilting his head back and letting her take him all the way there, and growling right over.
When he could manage to open his eyes again, he caught her highly satisfied look and thought, Yeah, I can identify with that. “You’re looking very cat and canary,” he told her, his voice hardly more than a rasp.
“I’m feeling quite accomplished at the moment,” she said, sounding a bit smug. “I won’t deny it.”
“Come here,” he said, grinning as he pulled her up next to him. She slipped her arm over his waist and rested her head on his chest. He wrapped her in his arms and felt his eyes slowly drift closed. “Thank you,” he said drowsily, for reasons that had nothing to do with the pleasure she’d so generously just given him.
He felt her yawn, then reach back and flip part of the duvet over them before snuggling in more deeply. “Oh no,” she mumbled, as he felt her body relax, “thank you.”
He grinned sleepily at that. He’d been grinning a lot lately. There were a lot of ways he might have seen himself finally getting to this point again in his life, he thought as he let sleep claim him. All of them awkward, challenging, potentially mortifying.
Not a single one of his imagined scenarios would have come anywhere close to this. He supposed that was because he just hadn’t met Hannah Montgomery yet.
Chapter Fourteen
Hannah was a little late to the champagne celebration. Okay, a lot late. But she was too blissed out to care. Later she would overexamine and overanalyze, then hyperventilate about every single moment, breath, word, and sigh she’d shared with Will. But just for now, while she could still feel where he’d touched her, where he’d kissed her, how he’d pleasured her, she’d hold on to that buzz and hug it close. The real world would surely intrude soon enough. “Like, in about thirty seconds,” she said as she walked around the side of the house to the veranda.
She looked up at the chimneys Will had restored and rebuilt, admiring the beautiful work he did. Strong, honest work he enjoyed and was proud of, as he should be. She understood that, supported that. Lived that. She turned toward the lavender fields, warmth filling her as her eyes adjusted to the dusky light of sunset. She was surprised to see there was still lavender left out there, given the crowds that had come through that day.
She took in a deep breath, enjoying the scent and letting the serene beauty of the endless, lush rows wash over and through her. The ripples and folds of the blue mountain backdrop behind them, highlighted by the last rays of the sun, settled her, grounded her as they always did, making her feel anchored to something strong and infinite.
Her smile grew, because, honestly, she could stand out there all night, but the moment she walked inside that house, there would be zero chance the rest of the fearsome foursome would not know what she’d just spent the past few hours doing. She felt like she was a walking neon sign of sexual satiation. And they hadn’t even had actual sex yet.
Her grin remained unchanged as she finally turned toward the house and reached out to open one of the French doors. As wondrous as it was to find that part of her still worked and worked just fine, thankyouverymuch—it had been all the rest of it that had left her feeling giddy and buzzy, like a girl experiencing her first big fall.
Slow down there, missy. This is still lust. Not that other L word.
“Yeah, but I think it could be,” she murmured, still too hopped up on endorphins to be properly terrified by the very idea. That would come in time. She’d learned to leave those things until it was their time to be dealt with. Nothing to be gained from worry. “Except losing this delightful little pheromone buzz I’ve got going on.” And she deserved that much, didn’t she?
Hannah discovered she’d been quite wrong about the rest of the fearsome foursome being all over her the moment they got a look at her face. She didn’t even make it inside the door, much less look at them, before all three of them stood up and said, “So?” in unison. Though the tones in which that one word had been delivered varied wildly.
Vivi had her hands clasped under her chin, her eyes sparkling with glee. Avery pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with one hand and had her trusty clipboard and pen at the ready in the other. While Chey stood there with her arms folded in front of her, as if challenging Hannah to be anything other than completely forthcoming. In
case Hannah needed proof of that assumption, Chey turned and pulled out one of the chairs by the kitchen table. “Sit. Spill. Leave nothing out.”
Chey McCafferty was of average height, about five-foot-six, with an average, though toned and athletic build. Those were the only average things about her. She was a former barrel racer and darling of the rodeo circuit, descended from a long line of rodeo riders, bull riders, and a number of other livelihoods that could possibly get a person trounced, tossed, or gored. She had nerves of steel, an uncanny ability to take in a room at a glance and read everyone in it with frightening accuracy, and an absolute zero tolerance policy for bullshit. Her word, not Hannah’s.
Chey also happened to have one of the softest hearts of anyone Hannah had ever met. She was a big, sappy, heart-on-her-sleeve romantic. A truth she guarded fiercely and shared with very few as it wouldn’t have served her well in her previous occupation. So Hannah knew there was no point wasting time trying to deflect or demur.
Hannah sat; then Vivi, Avery, and Chey took the other three seats. Vivi poured Hannah a fresh glass of bubbly and pushed it toward her. “Cheers,” she said brightly, then propped her elbows on the table and braced her chin on her hands, wrist bangles jangling and rings flashing like sparks under the ceiling lights. “Tell us everything.”
Hannah and Will had shared a half bottle of the Llamarama wine by the time he’d left, so she really shouldn’t, but this was a celebration, after all. She picked up the glass and tipped it in each of their directions. “Cheers to us,” she said, and took a sip, then giggled when the bubbles tickled her nose.
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