I glanced at Annabelle in question only to find that she was already watching me. Appraising my reaction? And why had she gone all tense?
“You okay, lass?” I asked quietly.
“My older sister,” she said in way of explanation. “We’re about a year apart.”
“Good lord, Belle, who did you bring to dinner? He’s about as—My stars and garters! Are you Connell MacDhuibh?” Her eyes flew wide, and her hand rose to her throat.
“I am,” I answered with a smile. From what I knew about sisters, I needed to make a good impression on this one to stand a chance with Annabelle. “And you must be Annabelle’s sister.”
“Sure am.” She gave me a wide, polished smile and then tilted her head at Annabelle. “Why didn’t I know you were bringing a guest? I would have rescheduled the showing of the Carley place!”
“Your job is important,” Annabelle answered with a shrug, but I noticed her smile was real.
“Hardly,” Savannah countered. “I certainly don’t need to be showing houses on a Sunday if you have a friend over.” Her eyes narrowed slightly in a way that suggested Annabelle hadn’t heard the last of the question, but she deflected, anyway. “Jackson, pass the chicken.”
“So what is your family like, Connell?” Annabelle’s dad asked.
“Not quite as big as this one.” There was a rumble of laughter around us, and Annabelle’s lips lifted in a soft smile. “Growing up, it was just me and my mother, so it was quiet. Guess I made up for that by spending most of my time in a noisy hockey rink.”
Annabelle’s eyes flickered in surprise, and then her shoulders fell. “I kept you from your mother.”
“No,” I assured her. “I kept me from my mother. Besides, she remarried when I was nineteen, and Callum already had three kids, so trust me, she’s not lonely.”
She nodded, but there was still something a bit more reserved about her.
“Savannah, are you judging the Miss Sweet Water contest again this year?” Milly asked from down the table, which gave me the opportunity to eat.
“I think so,” Savannah answered. “It’s better than letting Mr. Oliver pretend he’s judging while really he’s just staring at those girls in their swimwear. That man has got to retire.”
“Our Savannah was Miss Sweet Water three years in a row!” Tara exclaimed. “Of course, you can’t compete once you’re twenty-one, so then she started judging.”
My brow puckered in confusion. The town had an official Miss?
“It’s a beauty pageant,” Annabelle explained between bites. “Girls answer questions, dress up, show off a talent. It’s a competition.”
“Not that you’d know anything about that, would you, Belly-Boo?” A guy teased from the second table in the dining room.
Annabelle turned to stone, and I twisted in my seat to see who had hurt her feelings, but her hand gripped my thigh, stopping me cold.
“Don’t call her that, Uncle Holt. You know she doesn’t like it,” Savannah snapped, then sighed as she turned back to face Annabelle. “Besides, Belle was busy at college, remember? Acing all her classes from what I remember.”
“Figures you’d have straight A’s,” I teased.
“And a color-coded planner,” she quipped, but her smile was fake. I fucking hated it. Annabelle was beautiful no matter what, but she was exquisite when she let her real emotions show—both happiness and anger.
“Our Annabelle was always the smartest in her class!” Tara boasted with pride.
“I’m sure she was.” I laced my fingers over hers on my thigh and ate with my left hand as dinner fell into a rhythm of questions. I received my fair share about hockey, and the others on my team—mostly from Cash, Annabelle’s nephew, but I was relieved that the conversation didn’t revolve around me.
They all checked in on one another. How was Savannah’s real estate business doing? How was the veterinary clinic where Jackson worked? Were the kids excited to get back to school? It was all so...normal.
Eventually, Annabelle relaxed next to me, and even when she took her hand off my thigh, she shifted in her seat so her knee brushed mine. She was just as active in the questions, asking how her dad’s fields were doing on their hobby farm and if her mother was going to help train any of the pageant girls this year.
We finished up, and I was promptly kicked out of the kitchen when I tried to help with the dishes, so I joined in with the small army who tore down the extra tables and put them away.
I showed Cash and Taylor a few magic tricks to keep them busy and earned more than a few giggles for my effort.
“No one at school is going to believe that we had dinner with you,” Cash lamented in the way only thirteen-year-old boys can.
“Well, how about I get ye some tickets to a game this season?”
“Really?” His eyes grew wide as saucers.
“Absolutely. I’ll make sure to let your Aunt Annabelle know when.”
Cupcakes in hand, the kids took off with their father, and the rest soon filed out, until only Savannah and Annabelle’s parents remained in the house.
“It was so nice to meet you, Connell,” Savannah acknowledge with a nod and then moved in to hug her sister where we stood in the kitchen. “You owe me details,” she whispered.
I almost grinned but stuffed the rest of my cupcake in my mouth to hide it.
Savannah waved and walked out.
Annabelle watched me carefully, and I swallowed the last bit of the lemon and raspberry deliciousness.
“You survived,” Davis said with a slap to my back.
“Aye,” I agreed as Annabelle peeled the wrapper from her cupcake as it sat on the counter.
“Brave of you to take us all on at once. And yes, I know you two are...what was it, dear?” Davis asked, his silver brows nearly meeting as his forehead crinkled.
“Just friends,” Tara answered, sliding a bowl of grapes in front of Annabelle and nudging her cupcake down the counter. “Isn’t that what you said, Belle?”
What the fuck just happened?
“Yep! Just friends.” She smiled at her mother, then her father, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the counter.
“At least for the next week,” I teased. Her eyes flew to mine with a shake of her head, but she stopped strangling the counter.
“Oh. Okay, then,” her mother drawled slowly, looking between us. “Davis, why don’t we get out of here and leave these two to...whatever they have planned for the night.”
Her father took the cue, and after hugging Annabelle and shaking my hand, the two departed.
Annabelle popped one of the grapes in her mouth, and I watched, utterly transfixed as her lips closed over it. Fuck, that mouth was going to get me into trouble.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said, staring at the grapes.
“Ye already said that,” I reminded her. “Now what’s the deal with your sister?”
Her gaze snapped to mine, and it wasn’t friendly. “Why do you ask?”
The granite counters were cool against my back as I leaned against it so I could watch her. “Because the minute she walked in, ye turned to a statue, but I can tell ye love her.”
“I do,” she answered defensively. “Savannah is one of my best friends. She taught me all about makeup and dresses and boys. She really is the perfect sister.” Her eyes flickered toward the peeled cupcake, and I pushed it toward her. “She means well,” she whispered, and I knew she wasn’t talking about her sister.
“That’s a question for another time. Why were you so uncomfortable when she got here if you think she’s perfect?”
Annabelle lifted the cupcake and took a bite.
Damn, I wanted to taste those lips.
“Because you were here,” she answered after a moment.
“I don’t follow.” Her sister had seemed protective of Annabelle, not predatory.
“You wouldn’t.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “She’s perfect. Beautiful face, beautiful body, beautiful
heart.”
“So are ye.”
The woman glared at me.
“What? Ye are.”
“I’m pretty,” she admitted. “And I try my best to be a good person. To make things better for other people. But I’m no Savannah. She’s a damned beauty queen! When you think of the epitome of the American standard of beauty, Savannah is it. No, don’t look at me like that. You asked, and I’m answering. I’ve always been...thicker than my sister, and I’m good with it. I love my body. I love my life—”
“I happen to love your body, too,” I assured her, letting my eyes wander to the rise of her breasts at her neckline.
“Shush.” She wagged a finger at me. “I love my sister. I’d die for her. But I’ve never brought home a boy who didn’t take one look at her and think they were with the wrong Clarke sister, and just the thought that you might look at her like they did had me as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
“I don’t even know where to start with that statement.” She thought I’d want her sister?
“You don’t start with it.” Her voice dripped sass as she took another bite of her cupcake.
“Lass, those boys were idiots, thank God.”
She looked at me like I was the daft one and swallowed her cupcake. “What?”
I took the cupcake from her hand and put it on the counter, only because I wanted her full fucking attention. Then I pivoted until I stood in front of her and pressed her back against the counter. “They. Were. Daft. And I’m so bloody thankful because if one of them had realized what a treasure ye are, I wouldn’t be here with ye.”
“Don’t,” she whispered, but she didn’t shy away. No, the lass lifted her chin and stared me down.
“I don’t want your sister.” I gripped her hips and groaned as her flesh filled my hands. “I don’t want any other woman, and that’s actually a problem for me right now because this body? It’s all I see when I close my eyes at night.”
Her lips parted and she rested her hands on my chest, but they didn’t push me away.
“Fuck, Annabelle, you have me twisted in knots, and all we’ve ever done is kiss.” I rubbed my lips over hers but didn’t kiss her.
She gripped my shirt and tugged me closer. “I’m not your type.”
“Fuck that. You are exactly my type. Soft and curved and so fucking sexy that I’m permanently hard when you’re near.”
“What?” she arched for a kiss, but I held my lips just above hers, not giving in to what either of us clearly wanted.
“You heard me.” I pulled her against my erection. “Feel that? Now tell me again that you’re not my type. You Americans have such a fucked up idea of what a woman should look like—should feel like.” I gripped her arse, and she gasped as I lifted her easily, placing her on the counter.
“What should a woman feel like?” she asked, her breaths coming faster.
I cupped her face between my hands and let my thumbs graze over her skin. “Soft, with silky skin just like this.” I passed over her lips and almost forgot what I was doing when she kissed the pad of my thumb. “Lips made for kissing, just like these.”
I lowered my head and passed my lips over hers, letting my tongue catch the sweet aftertaste of frosting on her lower lip.
“Connell,” she pled, tilting her head for my kiss, but I didn’t give it to her. Instead, I retreated, only to run my hands down her neck and then the sides of her ribs.
“Fuck, Annabelle, ye have the most perfect breasts. I don’t even need to undress you to know it.” She arched, and I took the invitation, cupping the overflowing mounds in my hands. “Damn. This. This is exactly what a woman should feel like. One day I’m going to taste these. I’m going to see if your nipples are as pink as the dresses you love, and then I’m going to suck them into tight little points until you’re begging for more.”
She whimpered and rolled her hips against mine.
Fuck, I wasn’t going to make it.
Yes, you will. For her.
“A woman feels like a road curving through lush hills, taking you to hidden places. A woman demands your attention just like that road because you don’t want to miss one dip or hollow.” I stroked my hands over the dip of her waist, and then I gripped her hips and pulled her to the edge of the counter.
“Connell,” she begged again, her voice pitching higher as her hands slammed to the counter behind her in an attempt to keep her balance and control.
Control was the one thing I wasn’t going to let my high-strung Annabelle have.
“A woman has hips a man can grab ahold of. Hips that can take every thrust and give back just as much as she’s willing to take.” Just the thought of thrusting inside her tight heat had my cock throbbing behind my zipper.
I placed my hands on her bare knees and met her lust-filled gaze with one of my own. When she shifted her legs slightly, widening for me, I let out a growl of pure, primal appreciation.
Then I sent my hands under her dress and was met with skin softer than satin as I moved to her thighs. “A woman has thighs strong enough to wrap around a man’s hips. Thighs thick enough to cushion her man as he fucks her to mindless pleasure. Thighs that—” I groaned as I reached her inner thighs. “Feel just like this. God, Annabelle, do you know what I would give to feel you wrapped around me?”
“I might have an idea,” she admitted between quick breaths.
“Good. Because God, lass. You are exactly my idea of a perfect woman.” My thumbs ran lightly over the edge of panties that felt like lace. Just picturing her had my dick straining at the zipper. How long had it been since I’d wanted a woman like this and not taken her?
Fuck that. How long had it been since I’d wanted a woman like this, period? Had I ever? Annabelle had me so tightly strung that I’d snap if I wasn’t careful.
My thumbs traced the edge of her panties again, and she rocked her hips, urging me on.
“Connell, I’m on fire.” She sat up straight and gripped my shirt in her hands. Then she started flicking the buttons free one at a time, baring my skin.
“Lass,” I warned.
“Please?” She looked at me with those eyes, and I would have given her whatever she asked for. My life. My career. Anything.
“Do with me what you will,” I said with a grin.
She tugged her lower lip between her straight, even teeth, and made quick work of removing my shirt. As soon as it was off, I sent my hands straight back to the heat of her, only inches away from her core even though she remained fully dressed.
But if she kept looking at me like I was dessert, she wouldn’t be fully dressed for long. “What are you thinking?” I asked as her gaze raked over me with the same hunger I felt.
Her fingers traced the lines of my muscles, running over my pecs, then tracing down my abs. “I think…” Her eyes met mine. “I think I could probably come just from looking at you.”
My cock pulsed, firmly in agreement.
“That’s exactly how I feel about you,” I told her. Then I moved my thumb over slightly and groaned at the feel of her through the lace that covered her pussy, wet and so warm.
She gasped and gripped my neck, pulling me to her mouth.
“Let me touch you,” I begged, uncaring that I hadn’t begged a woman for anything since...ever.
Her breaths hit my lips in ragged bursts, and I was nearly undone. Fuck me, I hadn’t even really kissed the lass tonight—had barely touched her, and I was teetering on the edge of losing my control.
“Annabelle.” Was her name a plea? A warning? I didn’t know or care.
She arched her hips, pressing my hand harder against her heat. “Do with me what you will,” she whispered.
I was smiling when I crashed my mouth to hers. There was no sweet seduction or coaxing this time. I took her mouth like I owned it, laying siege to every sweet inch and demanding her surrender. Fuck, she tasted like raspberry icing and Annabelle.
With each sweep of my tongue, I sank further into her, l
osing myself in her taste and texture, her need fueled mine until I thought we’d both go up in flames. When I retreated, she followed, licking into my mouth like she owned me.
Maybe she did.
Nothing compared to kissing Annabelle. I was ruined for any other woman.
Her hips rocked against my hand, demanding friction. A simple move of my fingers and I was beneath her panties—her thong. God, I wanted to see that beautiful arse...just not tonight. She’d regret it in the morning, and I’d hate myself for making her feel that way.
“Fuck, woman. You’re soaked for me, aren’t ye?” I slipped my fingers through her wet folds, already slick and slippery.
“Yes,” she admitted, pulling me back to her mouth.
I kissed her lightly, tasting each gasp and whimper as I ran my fingers from her opening to her clit. When I circled the swollen bud, she cried out and pushed harder against me.
“You’re so responsive. Do you know how good it’s going to be the first time I fuck you? The second time? Every time? God, Annabelle, you’re right there for me, aren’t ye?”
She moaned when I rubbed her clit. “Please, Connell. Please.”
“Aye, love. I have you.” I slid one finger inside her and nearly lost my fucking mind when her body gripped me tight.
“Yes!” She rocked again, riding that finger, and I slipped a second one in, stretching her taut flesh.
“That’s it. Take what you want,” I growled into her neck. I worked her clit with my thumb as I fucked her with my fingers, wishing it was my cock.
Her muscles locked around me and her breaths came closer and closer together. “More,” she demanded, and I brought my mouth to hers as I pressed her harder, worked my fingers deeper. “God. Yes. Yes, Connell!”
She screamed my name as she came on my hand, and I watched with wonder as her eyes flew wide, then fluttered shut. I stroked her as she convulsed around me again, her body riding out the aftershocks of her pleasure.
When she sagged against me, I made myself pull my hands from her. I sucked in one breath after another, willing my control back in place. Slipping those panties to the side so I could take her with my cock wasn’t an option. Not tonight.
Connell (Carolina Reapers Book 3) Page 6
