by Ava Miles
He shifted, pulling her down onto the white sheepskin rug on the floor beneath them. His big body covered her, and she luxuriated in that fine mouth of his making sweet magic on her own and the silky texture of his dark hair under her fingers. Soon he was lifting her shirt off and unhooking her bra, laying her back to feast on her with his heated eyes. He ran his hand from her throat to the valley of her hips in one long, steamy trail of sensation.
A smile crested his face. “You’re beautiful.” Then he lowered his mouth to her breast and sucked on a hard nipple. Desire shot through her system, this time with hooks, and she gave herself up to the sweet loving of his mouth. When he rose up and took off his jacket and shirt and the medal he wore, she simply watched, enjoying the proud specimen of manhood before her.
“Like what you see?” he asked, that now-familiar smile upon his mouth.
She nodded, enjoying the feeling of her tingling lips transforming into a smile in such a moment. The urge to touch him was strong, so she ran her hand over the planes of his chest down to his abdomen. His skin was a texture all its own, like a soft wool that was smooth to the touch yet memorably rough to the fingertips.
“You have a beautiful body,” she whispered, the scent of lavender filling her senses.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice a low timbre now. “Let me show you how it feels against yours.”
Yes, please, she thought, and gave her mouth up when he kissed her again. Long and soft, hard and fast, he offered her a bouquet of kisses, and she eagerly took them all. When he slipped off the rest of her clothes and his own, she lifted a hand to his cheek, wanting to see those stormy green eyes again.
He raised his gaze as if sensing her need for that connection. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” he said, the brash words sending a rush of gooseflesh across her skin. “But there’s a few things I really want to do first. Let me show you.”
He wove her a pattern of what he had in mind with his mouth and hands, strokes and kisses and licks up her thighs and to her core, circling in tighter and tighter as she moaned and thrust against his mouth. A rush of heat broke forth in her belly, and then she was crying out under him, her hands flung out on the rug as she came over and over and over again.
He lightened the sensual onslaught and then rested his chin on her stomach as she settled into a hazy, erotic afterglow.
“My heavens, that was potent,” she whispered, her mouth dry as if the heat had burned up everything inside her.
“It’s about to get even more potent,” he said, giving her a cheeky wink before sliding up her body and kissing her square on the mouth.
She cupped his neck to keep him there, savoring the way he rubbed his tongue against her own and nipped her bottom lip now and again. Kissing him was heady stuff indeed, and she knew she could go on kissing him like this forever. Her hand ran down his back, crossing the lines where his muscles rose and divided in perfect symmetry. He turned to nuzzle her neck, and she realized he was still waiting for some sign from her, a signal she was ready for the next pattern they were knitting together.
She pushed gently on his chest until their eyes met and said, “Come into me, Trevor.”
He traced her cheek, his smile falling away to be replaced by an expression both deeper and more profound. She wasn’t sure what that look meant exactly, but she could feel something changing between them. When he slipped on a condom and came inside her fully, she knew. It was a joining, the kind where body and spirit came together, the kind that opened up reservoirs in the heart.
The feel of him, so large and hot and hard, inside of her made her stretch out full length underneath him, almost as though her entire body was expanding from the power of their connection.
He thrust deep, and she moaned. “Look at me,” he said, his voice a dark whisper.
Struggling under the waves of sensation, she finally met his gaze. In his eyes she saw a million stars, a new map in her universe. A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes, and she cupped his cheek as he lowered himself fully onto her.
“Trevor,” she said, her voice all hushed and warm.
“Becca,” he answered.
Slowly he thrust into her, almost as though he was still learning the shape and pattern of what they were creating. She gripped his hips in answer, doing her part to guide him, teach him, school him in what she wanted, what they both needed. He responded by pressing his palms into the floor beside her head and gliding his body in and out, his thrusts ever-increasing in their force and speed.
A new heat flashed in her belly, this time white-hot, and as she stared into the stars shining in his eyes, she gave herself up to the pleasure of their joining. Another explosion flashed through her, this time in concert with her heart, and she was flung into a new stratosphere. She heard him cry out and come inside her, pulsing, filling her. His head lowered to rest on her shoulder as though it belonged there.
She floated like she’d always imagined she would on the sea, her body encased in golden warmth, not only from the force of their connection, but from the heat radiating from his body. Peace filled her, a peace that defied all pleasure, and with it, she knew she’d been transformed.
When he finally raised his eyes, she knew he’d been transformed too.
The stars were still there, only now they were shining with the promise of a million lifetimes.
Chapter 13
No experience had ever cracked Trevor open like making love to Becca O’Neill.
Everything had started out fun and innocent. She’d asked him into her bedroom on what he knew was a bum reason. He’d thought it rather sweet that she was still unsure and embarrassed about having sex with him. This morning, in the old kitchen that had become her dyeing room, he’d felt his heart crack and then again in her closet. This, he knew, was the real Becca. The closet was a haven of sorts. Why else would she keep a desk in such a place? And, stranger yet, a door to the bathroom. Yet, surrounded by the clothes she’d made with her own hands, he could see the appeal of such a sanctuary.
When he’d looked at the first piece she’d handed him—a pale lavender scarf made of what looked like hundreds of bubbles—awe had overwhelmed him. And that had only been the beginning. Each piece she handed or tossed at him captured his imagination. Her beautiful accent, so soft and lilting, wove stories about the difference between stitches and patterns, making his head swim. Every pattern, every color, every texture blew his mind. Mere clothing these were not. She created art, and he wasn’t sure she even knew it.
Like in the old kitchen with the dyeing baths, he fell under her spell. As clothes piled higher in his arms, the passion and joy she had for life cracked him anew, this time in his belly. Her passion inflamed his, her knitting explanations becoming foreplay. When he could no longer stand not touching her, he’d been struck with the problem of where to put all of her precious creations. When she’d suggested the bed, he’d almost drawn her in there along with him. But no… Their first time had to be in her sanctuary, surrounded by her precious creations.
With each touch, each kiss, each sigh, she’d rent crack after crack inside him, breaking away pieces of the man he’d been to make way for the man he would become. Bringing her to pleasure that first time had been sheer magic, and the pride that he could bring her to such heights had moved him. But when he came into her and looked into her eyes, he heard the whispers of those final cracks inside him and welcomed it as she’d welcomed him into her body, holding nothing back. In the end, he knew he’d fallen the rest of the way and was standing on new ground. But he wasn’t alarmed by the changed landscape. No, there was a rightness to it, the kind of certainty he’d only felt a few times in his life.
“We should probably get up off this floor,” she said, kissing his neck.
He pushed off his elbows, thankful he had the strength to move when moments before it had seemed impossible. “Are you cold?” he asked, looking around for something to wrap her in.
“With you as my own personal heater?” sh
e asked, sitting up. “I couldn’t possibly get a chill.”
She ran her hand through her long, silky hair, and he was spellbound again. Her lips were lush and ruby-colored, and there was a lovely pink flush to her creamy white skin. He realized he wanted to make love to her all over again.
“I need some water,” she said, moving to stand.
He managed to help her up, his legs feeling none too steady suddenly. She patted him on the cheek, a soft smile on her lips. He watched as she grabbed a thin purple wool robe and walked out. Taking a moment to collect himself, he turned and walked over to her desk to check out this view she’d mentioned. Sure enough, it was spectacular, what with the moonlight raining down on the powerful waves of the sea. The rhythm of it all washed over him, and he stepped back, admitting to himself one thing had changed for sure.
He couldn’t take this place away from her, not for his job or his brother. Connor wouldn’t like it, but Trevor would have to find another way to give his brother what he wanted.
The decision lightened something in him. Should he tell her? No, he decided. Talk of business might spoil this moment, and he didn’t want to do that to her. In fact, he didn’t want to do it to himself either. This was their night.
He left the closet after pulling on his pants and pocketing his St. Christopher medal, not wanting to lose it. Boru lifted his head and gave a quiet ruff, and Hatshep stretched languidly on the floor, almost like her mistress had. The clothes were on the bed still, and they’d have to find a place to park them because he planned on making love to her in that bed.
She wasn’t in the living room, but he heard water running and followed the sound to a small kitchen. She was downing the contents of a glass, the line of her throat long and sexy in the soft light. When she finished it, she made a satisfied sound, and he felt a smile hover on his face.
“Thirsty?” he asked, stepping toward her with the intent to kiss her.
Although he couldn’t say why, he knew it was important to touch her, to let her know how much things had changed for him. For them, he hoped. She jolted when he put his hand on her waist, and he knew he’d been right to do this. Her entire body went still, and as he nuzzled her neck, she placed a warm hand on his bare chest.
“I’d like to say it was the closet,” he told her, “but what happened between us just now would have happened anywhere.”
He caught the rise of her chest as she drew in a deep breath. She was finding her way too, he realized.
“Yes, you’re right,” she said, pouring another glass of water and handing it to him. “I…didn’t expect you to say so, however.”
However? “Why deny what happened?” Trevor didn’t waver or adopt half-measures. Once he was in, he was all in. He’d always been like that about everything important in his life.
She was silent for a moment, and he drank the water, his throat also parched from their lovemaking.
“Let’s stay in the moment,” she said, nodding for emphasis. “Given the circumstances, that seems best.”
She was right. He wasn’t in a position to tell her how deeply he felt, or that he’d only just decided to alter his brother’s business plan and his own role in it. He’d do better to wait until things were squared away.
“I’d very much like to make love to you again,” he said, noting how her gaze flew to his. She was surprised. Had she expected him to leave? “In the bed this time, although we’ll have to revisit the closet. I’m not going to be able to see one without having lustful thoughts.”
Her chuckle was soft, and he knew she’d gotten past whatever uncertainty she’d been facing. “Me either.”
He tossed back the rest of the water. God, he could drink a couple more glasses.
“Trevor,” she said, fiddling with the tie to her robe.
He knew she needed him to stay away as she said whatever was weighing on her mind. “Yeah?”
Her blue eyes were somber, the slow smile on her face an interesting contrast. “Thank you. For listening to me drone on about my knitting…and for afterward.”
“First, I love to hear you talk about your work.” He crossed now and placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “And second, you don’t have to thank me for making love to you. It was a joy.”
In all his years of having sex, he’d never thought of it as a joy, but it was with her. Another sign.
She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “It was grand for me as well.”
She refilled both of their water glasses then walked to the doorway, turning and leaning her head against the wall. He took a mental picture of her, knowing he’d bring it to mind often to commemorate his first night with Becca. He’d remember the way her brown hair trailed over her breast and the white skin exposed as the robe gaped open to her belly. He’d remember the soft way she looked at him, almost as if soaking up his presence just as much as he was hers.
But mostly, he’d remember this as the moment he’d decided this first night with Becca O’Neill had the power to turn into a lifetime.
Chapter 14
A loud humming noise woke Becca out of a deep sleep. Trevor shrieked and pushed back into her on the bed, and she opened her eyes to see Buttercup’s head resting on his pillow.
“How in the hell did it get in here?” he asked, pulling the sheet up almost as if it were a shield.
Becca’s momentary jolt out of sleep turned into laughter. She couldn’t help it. Trevor looked so put out. The alpaca straightened to its full height and cocked its head to the right, giving another loud hum. Surely Cian wouldn’t have…
“That thing licked my face!” His voice was filled with outrage. “It didn’t feel like you and woke me out of a dead sleep.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, swinging out of bed. After the way they’d explored each other’s bodies, she now understood what people meant when they could recognize their lover in the dark. She knew the way and shape of him, the sound of his breathing and groans.
Buttercup wandered over to her as she reached for her robe. Becca took her by the halter to keep her from rushing Trevor. “How did you get in here again?” She didn’t think Cian was the culprit this time. “Come on, Buttercup. Trevor is about to have a heart attack, and I can’t have the man dropping dead in my bed.”
“If a man was ever to die though, it would be after last night,” he said, holding up a pillow now as if it were a greater deterrent to Buttercup than a mere sheet.
“I’m glad you think so,” she said, laughing. When he’d reached for her in the kitchen, kissing her so softly and deeply she’d almost cried, she’d known he was trying to tell her something profound, something words were yet too fragile to say. They’d found a balance making love to each other and laughing in between.
“Where are my clothes?” he asked, leaning over the side of the bed.
She didn’t see a single stitch of them. Boru and Hatshep weren’t around, but she wondered if they’d done the honors again, trying to keep Trevor naked in her bed. Oh, those dear animals.
“Your pets took my clothes again, didn’t they?” He wrapped the sheet around himself and stood up. “I don’t suppose I can make it all the way to my room like this and not be seen.”
“It’s half past seven,” she said, noting the time. “People will be at breakfast. While I imagine it would improve many a person’s day, seeing you in a state of undress, it might be better if I find you something to wear. Assuming I can’t find your clothes from last night. Of course, you could wear something from my closet.”
Her lips twitched at the very thought of him in one of her jumpers. The fit would be tight to be sure.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he said, “and here I’d gone to sleep with the intention of waking you up in the most delicious way this morning.”
Her thighs clenched at the very thought. Good heavens, she was turning into a sex goddess. And she rather loved it. “Later for sure. I need to find you some clothes, and then I’m off
to see about things.”
Her list was long today, but she was eager to start the day. And boy was she ready for a big breakfast after last night.
“I’ll just stay here,” he said, frowning like a thwarted boy. “If I hadn’t been such a king in bed last night, I’d be worried about my Man Card.”
Laughing, she led Buttercup to the doorway. “I can attest your Man Card, as you call it, is fully loaded. And I promise I won’t tell anyone about this. Except Aileen.” Becca dashed out of the room, and Buttercup hummed. She heard something land on the floor and realized Trevor had thrown the pillow after her. Oh, how she liked that playful, cheeky side of his.
Boru and Hatshep were waiting for her in the sitting room. “All right, now. Don’t the two of you have something to tell me?” Boru lowered his head, and Hatshep only stared back. “Where are Trevor’s clothes?”
Hatshep seemed to give a sly smile before walking off, and Boru stretched out on the ground, resting his head on the floor as if plagued by a guilty conscience.
“You two are terrible,” she said in a loud voice, aware Trevor might be listening. Then she patted Boru and whispered, “Good dog. Now, Buttercup, let’s see about you.”
The alpaca hummed the whole way down the stairs, as if her soul were being ripped out of her. “I know you like Trevor, and you have good taste, but you can’t keep coming in here.”
Becca would have to find out how it had happened this time. She closed the door to her quarters and then led the animal a few yards to the back door. Opening it, she gave the alpaca a shove, and the animal reluctantly took a few steps, allowing her to close the door.
“Now, about Trevor’s clothes,” she said, retracing her steps into her chambers. She needed to get dressed herself before she looked for his things, although she expected her two beautiful treasures weren’t going to bring them out until they were good and ready.
