She looked up at him, her lashes half-mast, and a bewitching smile claiming her lips. “Have you been taking lessons while you’ve been gone?”
The teasing note to her voice warmed him deep inside. “Nope. You’re just an exceptional teacher.”
Her husky laughter mingled with the music, and she melted deeper into his embrace, resting her cheek against his chest. He was certain she could hear the stampede of his heart, the rush of blood in his veins. She curled closer and sighed contentedly.
The gesture was so trusting, so accepting, that he experienced a flash of guilt. He swallowed hard and tried not to think about everything he hadn’t told Grace. Not once had he outright lied to her during their conversation, but he was certainly culpable by omission.
But he couldn’t bring himself to reveal his intentions. Not here. Not now. Not when his life was finally fulfilled and perfect, even if for just this one night. Not when he was so close to achieving every one of the aspirations that had driven him for eleven years.
Including Grace.
Closing his eyes, he let go of the past, didn’t think about the future, and focused on the pleasure of the present. He smoothed his hand down the soft velvet covering her back, and she shivered in response. She lifted her head and looked up at him with lustrous brown eyes rimmed in the finest of gold. Her brow creased slightly, and he could see her fighting the attraction that had them both under its tantalizing spell.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, stirring old memories to life. Her lips parted, and the warmth of her breath caressed his jaw. Accepting the silent invitation before she changed her mind, he lowered his head and tentatively brushed his lips across hers, rediscovering the taste and texture of her. The kiss was so simple, so sweet, it made him ache in a place only she’d ever touched.
Her hands came to rest on the front of his shirt, but she didn’t push him away. “Ford . . .” Her voice was wobbly, uncertain, and maybe a little scared of what was happening between them.
He understood. The magic was still there, that compelling, unexplainable sorcery that lured a man and woman together, no matter how wrong it might be. The magnetism defied logic, as well as wealth, or reputation, or compatibility.
It just was.
Curling a hand around the side of her neck, he used his thumb to tip her chin up, to keep her mouth beneath his. She didn’t protest, physically or verbally, and instead leaned into him the same time the hand at the nape of his neck pulled his head down. Her lashes fluttered closed just before he settled his mouth over hers. This time, there was nothing simple about the kiss. From the get-go, this was a lush, adult kiss, borne of passion, and fueled by emotion.
Her lips were warm, pliable, allowing him to do as he pleased. And he did. He took his time, savoring the glide of damp lips, relishing the silky slide of his tongue along hers, and reveling in the uninhibited way she returned the embrace. He craved the way she tasted, like a warm, lazy summer day.
An eternity later, when he finally ended the kiss, they were both breathing raggedly. Only one thought clouded his mind, and he expressed it. “What do you say we go somewhere more private?” His voice was low and rough with arousal, thick with need.
She blinked up at him, a hesitant frown touching her brow. True, he was dealing with a grown woman with sensual desires, not the young, shy girl he’d left behind, but Grace proved to be the cautious sort, not that he could blame her for that.
He caressed the back of his knuckles down her soft cheek. “I’d like to be alone with you.”
She wanted that, too, but he could see the need warring with the indecision in her gaze, could see her thinking about the implications of leaving with him. After a brief moment, the doubts seemed to clear and she asked, “Would you like to go to your place or mine?”
Her question gave him a moment’s pause. He had no idea if she still lived with her father. “Define ‘your place’.”
A grin quirked her mouth, as if she read his concern. “I live alone, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Your place, then.” The last thing he wanted was for Grace to be seen with him at the hotel where he was staying. He wanted her, yes, but not at the cost of her reputation. “Follow me back to the hotel so I can leave my car there.”
She nodded, and he swooped down for another deep kiss that wipe away the last of any doubts and left them trembling and reluctant to part. He hoped the sensual rush lasted until they arrived at her place.
Tossing enough bills on the table to cover the tab and leave a generous tip, Ford ushered Grace out of the Whitaker Country Club.
The back way.
What in the world was she doing?
Grace pondered that question for the hundredth time as she cast a surreptitious glance at the man sitting in the passenger seat of her business van. He stared out his window as they turned left out of the heart of town and headed toward a remote part of Whitaker Falls. While her stomach tumbled with a combination of nerves and anticipation, he appeared calm. Ford wasn’t a stranger, but she’d never taken a man to her place before.
She knew little about the successful, gorgeous man he’d become, but there was no denying her feelings for him still ran deep and strong. Overwhelmingly so.
She’d been alone for so long, she yearned to feel that special connection again, craved to take a chance on the irresistible passion that simmered between her and Ford. She’d been the good girl her father expected of her, catering to his whims and wishes and keeping the reputation of the family name intact, but tonight was hers.
Tonight, the man who’d always held her heart was hers.
“Where is your place?”
Ford’s deep, smooth voice soothed her frayed nerves and directed her attention to something other than her troubling thoughts. “It’s about three miles up the way. Remember Hattie Morgan’s cottage?”
The interior of the vehicle was dark, but she saw him nod. “Yeah, I remember. The only thing separating Cutter Creek from Hattie’s was a half a mile of forest.”
“The forest is still there,” she confirmed. The house itself was secluded by a copse of tall trees, and overlooked a crystal blue lake. The area was quiet, peaceful, and gave her plenty of privacy instead of living in town. “Hattie died about four years ago, and I bought the place. The cottage is small, with only two bedrooms and a cozy living room, but it’s perfect for just one person.”
“I have to admit, I’m surprised that you’re not married.”
She glanced his way, momentarily caught up in the intensity of his eyes before training her gaze back to the road. She didn’t want to talk about David, not tonight, but she wasn’t going to lie to Ford. “I was married, for almost five years.”
He was quiet, and she could feel him staring at her. When he reached out and touched her, trailing his fingers over her shoulder, she felt an odd stirring of relief.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We married for all the wrong reasons.” She shrugged, not willing to delve too deeply into those reasons with Ford, since he was one of them. “He moved to Norfolk after the divorce. I hear from his mother that David is remarried and has two little boys.”
His finger flicked a soft curl lying against her neck. “You two didn’t have any kids?”
“No. We tried, but it didn’t work out for us. I’m not able to have children.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
She squelched the painful reality that she’d been the one unable to conceive, and turned onto the gravel road that led to her cottage. She kept up a stream of inconsequential chatter to keep Ford from questioning her last comment, though she was certain he was smart enough to catch the drift of what she’d said. A minute later, she parked the van under an awning, and cut the engine.
“Well, here we are,” she said brightly, and exited the vehicle. She met up with him on the cobblestone walkway leading to her porch, and more nervous chatter bubbled from her as she opened the door and they entered the small cottage
.
The rich, luscious scent of roses assaulted her senses, making her feel even more light-headed and anxious than she already was. She’d left the light above the stove in the kitchen on, which provided a small amount of illumination to the room. She flipped a switch on the wall, and the living room lamp flooded the area with bright, comforting light. Somewhere between the hotel and her cottage her confidence in following through with her romantic evening with Ford had fled.
He grinned when he saw all the crystal vases occupying the vacant space in her living room. Those dimples of his deepened with humor. “Wow,” he murmured.
Setting her purse on the small table by the door, she stepped out of her heels. “I don’t think I thanked you for all these roses.”
His eyes crinkled at the corner. “It was my pleasure.”
“It cost you a small fortune,” she said, knowing exactly how much money he’d doled out for the flowers and the extravagant vases. “It was unnecessary, and certainly overkill.”
He merely shrugged off the exorbitant amount as inconsequential, and rubbed a red rose petal between his fingers. “If I remember correctly, you always loved flowers, roses especially.”
“I do.” She was deeply touched that he remembered. “They remind me of my mother and all the time I spent helping her tend to her rose garden when I was a little girl.” Her father had since replaced the rose garden with sod, because it had been too painful for him to look at the garden that had once been his beloved wife’s. Needlessly, she fussed with an arrangement of tight, fragrant buds—anything to keep her busy and moving. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with so many dozen.”
“Enjoy them.”
Her mouth opened to reply, then snapped shut when she saw that he was making himself comfortable. Slipping out of his navy coat, he draped it over the back of her floral sofa. He loosened his tie, and her stomach dipped.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she blurted, her voice high-pitched to her own ears. “Coffee? Juice? Wine?” She breezed past him toward the kitchen, and he caught her wrist, halting her progress.
His eyes were warm, and kind, and a tad amused. “I’m not thirsty.”
“A slice of cheesecake, then? I bought a few slices from the bakery yesterday, and I even have fresh strawberries to top it off.”
“I’m not hungry for dessert, either.” His soft, low voice catered to her jumbled nerves. The way he stroked his thumb over the pulse point in her wrist sent a pleasant thrum of desire through her. “Would you rather I go back to my hotel?”
“No!” Startled by her sharp tone of voice, she cleared her throat. Despite wanting him, the good girl she’d been for so long was very nervous about the night ahead. “I mean, I want you to stay, it’s just that . . . well . . .” Twin spots of heat burned her cheeks, and she looked away.
Tucking a finger beneath her chin, he brought her gaze back to his. “It’s just what?” he prompted.
Drawing a breath, she summoned the fortitude to confess her insecurities. “It’s been a long time, Ford.”
He seemed to consider that. “For us . . . or with any man?”
Certain she couldn’t become any more embarrassed than she already was, she muttered, “Both.”
He tilted his head, and smiled. “Would it help if I told you that it’s been a long time for me, too?”
It did help, and there was enough honesty in his expression that she believed him.
“Tell you what, why don’t we just start where we left off at the country club? We’ll take this slow and easy, and we can put a halt to this any time you want.” The backs of his knuckles stroked her cheek, and goose flesh rose on her skin. “You only need to tell me to stop and I will, okay?”
She nodded, appreciating that bit of security, and the right to change her mind at any time.
He indicated the bright lamp in the living room. “Can I turn off this light?”
“Yes,” she said, preferring the softer illumination from the kitchen to guide them, instead of the harsh glare of the lamp. She watched him move away, and flip the switch on the wall, throwing the room into an intimate, romantic setting. Then he came back to where she stood and stopped in front of her, and she could feel the heat of his muscular body, could smell the male scent of him.
“Would you mind if I took the clip from your hair? Or maybe you’d like to do it for me?” He made the suggestion lightly, but the husky quality to his voice was very revealing. “More than anything, I’d love to see your hair down.”
He was giving her the choice, and she accepted it. Holding his watchful gaze, she reached up and unsnapped the clip securing the mass of hair on top of her head. Soft, buoyant curls cascaded to just below her shoulders, framing her face.
She thought she heard him suck in a breath, and her own heart skipped a beat. Silently, she willed him to touch her hair, and then he did, reverently threading his long fingers through the thick, warm strands.
A deep groan of pleasure rumbled from his throat. “It’s still so rich, so silky,” he said, awed.
He spent another minute luxuriating in the weight and texture of her hair, burying his hands in the mass and using his fingers to massage her scalp. Grace shivered and all but purred—his fascination with her hair was one of the more sensual experiences of her life.
“Can I kiss you now?”
She smiled up at him, feeling lethargic and complacent. “I’m not used to having someone ask permission to kiss me.”
He grinned, too, stealing her breath with those gorgeous dimples. “I’m trying to be a gentleman, and give you that option to say stop.”
She didn’t want him to be chivalrous, not when she’d begun to ache deep inside for something more. Following her emotions, she said, “In that case, I’d like it very much if you kissed me.”
He obliged, taking time and care with her mouth, and slowly pulling her deeper into his embrace. She went willingly, sliding her hands over the hard contours of his chest, surrendering to the heat of his lips. His own palms caressed her leisurely. He cupped her breast gently through the material of her dress, grazed his thumb over the hardened tip, and she moaned at the exquisite pleasure. Sweet, hot desire, unlike any she’d ever known, electrified her body.
Breaking the escalating kiss, he pressed his lips to her temple, holding her close. “You’re trembling, Grace,” he murmured, his own body taut and restrained, but unmistakably aroused. “Should I take that as a good sign, or bad?”
She closed her eyes, and considered his question—another chance for her to change her mind. Nothing had ever felt as good or right as this moment. What had begun as tension had blossomed into quivering anticipation, and a need that transcended the mere act of making love. There was an emotional connection still between them, and it pulled at her heartstrings.
“Oh, it’s a good sign,” she reassured him, a bit of humor lacing her voice. Glancing up, she met his smoky gaze, and remembering her vow to please herself, she catered to the yearning deep within her. “Would you like to go into my bedroom?”
His breath seemed to leave him in a quiet rush. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Silently, she led him to her room, stopping at the side of her four poster bed, covered in the mauve and blue quilt her Mother had made for her when she’d turned sixteen. It was a cherished heirloom, one she’d hoped to pass on to her own daughter one day.
Refusing to think about lost dreams, she reached for the loosened tie around Ford’s neck and disposed him of it. Her hands went to his shirt, unbuttoning it with sure and steady fingers. Together, they worked to remove their clothing, which became a slow, seductive process of discovery that heightened the hunger and passion spiraling between them.
Time lost meaning, and the night turned magical. Ford spent an immeasurable amount of time acquainting himself with the womanly changes to her body, worshiping the supple, pliant curves she’d developed with his slow hands and generous mouth. In turn, she reveled in the impressive man he’d become, wi
th well-formed muscles, and sleek, hot skin.
When he gently laid her on the bed and moved over her, her own flesh caught fire. Brushing her hair from her face, he kissed her, long and lazily. Finally, he lifted his head and stared down at her with eyes filled with a combination of anguish and joy.
The poignant mixture of emotions made Grace’s breath hitch in her chest.
“Ahh, Grace, I really have missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and deep and intimate.
She swallowed back the tightness in her throat and skimmed her fingers along his cheek. “Me, too.”
His expression softened. A tender smile touched his mouth, relaxing the taut line of his jaw. With one arm bracing his heavy weight above her, his other hand continued to explore, shaping the swell of her breast, stroking over her hip, and finally parting her slender thighs to fit himself more fully against her.
She sighed, then gasped when his fingers brushed along the juncture of her thighs and dipped more intimately inside her. She arched toward him, moaning softly.
Her uninhibited response seemed to gratify him. Immensely. But he held his own desire in check, an uncertain frown marring his brow. “I’ve dreamed of this, of you, for so long. I want it to be perfect.”
The glimpse of vulnerability reminded her of the boy he’d once been and made her realize that for as much as he’d gained wealth and confidence, some things hadn’t changed at all.
“It will be,” she told him, and drew his mouth down to hers as he pushed deep inside her, filling her, claiming her.
The tight fit of them together stole her breath, made her desperate for more of him. She wrapped her legs around his waist as his slow, deep thrusts gradually quickened, and cried out his name as they gave themselves over to the most seductive, exquisite pleasure.
And not once during the long, wonderful night did she tell him to stop.
Bam, bam, bam.
The pounding sound reverberating in Grace’s mind grew louder, the voice calling her name more gruff and insistent. Ignoring the annoying noise, Grace snuggled closer to the warm, hard body curled against her from behind and willed the intruder away. Strong, male limbs entwined around her legs, and a corded arm banded possessively around her naked waist.
The Millionaire's Proposal Page 4
