Welcome Back to Apple Grove

by C. H. Admirand

  Unable to deny him, she opened her mouth and let him feed her. She chewed, savoring the flavor—it had been nearly a year since she’d had whiskey cake. He placed the cake on the table by her hip as she said, “It’s deli—”

  His tongue swept into her mouth as his hands unerringly followed the curve of her spine, pulling her to the edge of the tabletop. The kiss was openly carnal. Never had anything she’d tasted before compared to the lush flavor of his kiss.

  Her heart raced as skin met skin, heat met heat. He eased back, leaving her on fire and uncertain. He lifted a forkful to his mouth, chewed, and slowly smiled. “It’s good,” he said, leaning close enough to circle the tip of his tongue on first one breast and then the other. “But not as delectable as you.”

  Words were no longer necessary as she looped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. His lethal lips and talented tongue feasted on her while her thoughts swirled and her head spun.

  When Patrick lifted the fork to her lips, she shook her head. “Not yet.” It was time for her to take back control of their lovemaking. She slipped off the table and urged him to sit.

  He hesitated and actually pouted. “But I didn’t get to Point Pleasant.”

  She almost choked on the mouthful of cake. “Where?”

  “It’s a town on the Jersey shore,” he said, grabbing ahold of her hips. “And where you keep your wild honey, just for me.”

  The blood rushed through her veins as her heart began to pound. “No fair,” she rasped, moving between his legs. “I haven’t tasted you yet.”

  Every muscle in his body tensed in response to her words. Power sang through her body as she bent her head and let her lips first and then her tongue test the strength and sensitivity of his pecs. “I read an article that said a man’s nipples don’t have as much feeling as a woman’s.” She flicked the tip of her tongue across one and then the other. His breath rushed out at her touch.

  “Maybe their research was flawed,” she said, kneading his shoulders, trailing her hands down to his powerful biceps—delighting in the way they tensed beneath her fingertips. Leaning close, she licked a path from his breastbone to his navel.

  “Grace,” he growled.

  She lifted her head and met the intensity of his gaze with determination—to make his head spin and his heart leap. Going down on her knees, she caressed his quads before grasping his hips.

  “My turn.” With a featherlight caress, she traced the length and breadth of him with her tongue, awed by his strength and size.

  “I want—” Patrick’s words ended on a strangled groan as she took him in her mouth and suckled him, her hands in constant motion as her tongue and lips moved over him.

  He speared his hands in her hair. The gentle way he eased himself free added one more reason why she was not going to let this man walk out of her life. A look was all it took before she was once again in his arms. As he strode to the bedroom, his hands and lips spoke volumes. As he placed her in the middle of his bed and opened the drawer to his bedside table, she knelt on the bed and reached for his hand.

  “Let me.” When she’d rolled the protection over him, he knelt in front of her and swept his hands from her hips to the undersides of her breasts, teasing her to distraction. One callused hand moved slowly down her spine. He buried himself to the hilt as his big hands grabbed hold of her backside and held her tight against him.

  She moved her hands to mirror his, hanging on to his glutes as she pulsated around him. Tilting her head back, she saw the raw desire in his eyes and knew he was holding on to his control by a thread.

  “Go with it,” she urged. “Let me watch you come,” she whispered.

  The veins in his throat stood out as he threw his head back and moaned out her name. His body looked as if he was stretched out on the rack, with each and every muscle tensed. He answered with a thrust of his hips and a growl deep in his throat. His hands vised against her butt cheeks as he gave in and let his orgasm take him.

  ***

  She’d wrung every last drop from him. Spent, he tumbled them to the bed with one hand cupping the back of her head and the other her backside. “Need sleep.” He couldn’t form more than a few words at a time. She’d destroyed his control with a look and taken him to paradise with her lips and tongue.

  But it wasn’t just the way she’d teased him to arousal, he realized; it was the look in her eyes and the reverence in her touch that had him nearly coming in her mouth. He’d rushed the normal boundaries he placed on relationships, unable to resist tasting her honeyed essence, but he never expected her to respond in kind.

  When he could finally speak again, he told her, “Give me a moment, and I’ll return the favor.” He needed her to fall asleep as fulfilled as he was.

  “You don’t have to—” He covered her lips with his and let his hands do the talking, stroking then delving deep into her sheathe. She came apart in his arms moments later. She’d been that close to climaxing when she’d urged him to let go, putting his pleasure before hers.

  A beautiful, giving woman. How the hell had he managed to find her after giving up on his search for a woman to spend the rest of his life loving? Slowly, slipping his fingers free, he wrapped his arms around her and let sleep take him.

  ***

  Morning came too soon as the annoying strains of his alarm woke him. He reached for the offending object and smacked at it until it stopped. Moving back to the middle of the bed, he wasn’t surprised to see Grace awake, but he was uneasy with the directness of her gaze. What was going on in that beautiful head of hers?

  And then she smiled and everything was right with his world once again. “Morning, handsome.”

  He laughed. “Morning, gorgeous.”

  She kissed his shoulder and slipped out of bed. “I’m hungry and I desperately want a hot shower.”

  “Oh yeah?” He followed her down the hallway. “We could save water and shower together.”

  She laughed and shook her head at him. “You go get the first shower. I’ll start the coffee. Do you have eggs?”

  He grabbed for her hand and tugged, tumbling her against him. “So was that a no?”

  She reached up, traced the line of his jaw, and tapped the tip of her finger on his bottom lip. “I’ll never get to work on time and neither will you if I said anything but no.”

  He kissed her tenderly. “So it’s not no because you don’t want to?”

  She was laughing as she looked up at him. “Go get a shower before I change my mind and go back to bed and let you make the coffee and—”

  His mouth cut off what she was going to say with a tender kiss. “You’re not hardwired that way, Grace. That’s why we’re going to be amazing together—neither am I.”

  When she melted in his arms, he just had to kiss her again. With a friendly pat on her backside, he let her go and walked into the bathroom. “I’m going to need half a pot just to get my brain in gear this morning.”

  “Maybe I won’t drink the whole pot if you answer a question.”

  He stuck his head out of the bathroom door. “What’s the question?”

  She hesitated, and that’s when he noticed her expression was unreadable. “Did I dream last night?”

  He walked toward her and wrapped her in his arms. Holding tight, he rasped, “I’m the one who should be asking you that because, baby, you are a dream come true.” Sensing she needed to be held, he waited until she sighed. “We’re going to have to talk about things soon,” he warned, letting her go.

  “What kind of things?”

  He bent down to put the bath mat on the floor by the tub. When he stood up and looked over his shoulder, he caught the expression on her face. “Were you staring at my butt?”

  She flushed a bright pink. “Guilty.”

  He laughed. Taking pity on her, he finally answered her original question, “The you-and-me kind.”

  “Oh.” She backed away from him and practically ran down the hall, leaving him to wonder if she was frighten
ed of the prospect, or if she was having trouble sticking to her plan not to join him in the shower.

  He preferred thinking it was the latter, so he did while he let the hot water ease the tension between his shoulder blades. Trying not to think about Grace while he lathered up was definitely a challenge. The woman had opened her heart to him in so many ways last night. He didn’t plan to take advantage of her or her giving heart.

  As he stared at his reflection, deciding not to take a razor to his face, he felt his earlier energy drain out of him, leaving him weak. “Blood sugar needs a boost,” he told the face staring at him. “Gotta have protein.”

  The angel in his kitchen was humming off-key, adding one more endearing quality to savor. Instead of pulling her into his arms, he pulled out a chair. “I’ve got this little problem I forgot to tell you about.”

  She handed him a mug of coffee. “Sounds serious.”

  “It is and it isn’t,” he told her.

  “OK,” she said, studying him closely—too close for comfort. “Looks like it’s serious right now.”

  When he didn’t drink any coffee, her look morphed into one of concern. Before she could work herself up, he told her, “If I overexert myself and don’t eat right, my blood sugar gets out of whack and my energy takes a dive.”

  She turned off the burner and scooped fluffy scrambled eggs onto his plate. “Eat,” she said, handing him a fork. “No caffeine until you’ve finished every bite.” Damned if the woman didn’t take his mug back.

  “Wait—”

  She lifted the spatula and pointed it at his plate.

  He knew what she wanted him to do. Somewhere he found the strength to grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And don’t call me ma’am,” she grumbled. “Makes me feel old.”

  When he opened his mouth to speak, she picked up the spatula again. He laughed and continued to eat, grateful when she placed two slices of toast on a paper towel next to his plate and slid the jar of peanut butter next to his hand.

  “How do you know what I need to eat?”

  She shrugged. “Low blood sugar runs in our family, so I don’t have to think about what will get me back on track fast. I know without thinking.”

  He was already feeling better as the eggs hit his stomach.

  As his system leveled out, he noticed her mug was nearly empty and got up to pour her more.

  “Thanks.”

  Her sweet smile did things to his heart that he’d never really felt before. With a blinding flash of insight, he realized he’d found the one his ma had always told him was out there waiting for him.

  He got his mug and sat across from her, watching the way she brushed her bangs out of her eyes before lifting the cup to her lips and blowing across it to cool it. Lifting his mug in a silent toast to her, he waited for her smile to reach her pretty green eyes.

  He couldn’t wait to bring her home to meet his family.

  Chapter 17

  Grace drove home, trying hard to keep her mind on the road and not on the man who’d wrapped himself around her heart so quickly it felt as if they’d been together for years.

  “How is that possible?” Needing to focus on where she was going and not where she’d been, she set thoughts of Patrick Garahan aside, to be taken out later and savored like a giant-sized chocolate bar. Both were drool worthy, but the former wouldn’t add any inches to her hips.

  Chuckling to herself as she drove, she was in a great mood by the time she’d parked in front of Mulcahys. It was later than she’d hoped to arrive. “Locked.” No matter, she thought. She could probably still get in through the back unless somebody moved the spare key Grace kept above the door.

  Walking through the alley between her family’s shop and the Apple Grove Diner, her mind was focused on a broad-shouldered hunk with auburn hair. She didn’t notice that she wasn’t alone until she walked into something solid and felt the cruel grip manacling her right wrist.

  “Hey!” She struggled against his hold before looking up. Ice began to form in her blood. A dark-haired stranger was glaring at her. Instincts had her digging deep to remember the moves her father had taught her and her sisters.

  The stranger mistakenly thought he had the advantage when she let her arm go slack in his grip. He started to smile. She stomped on his foot and plowed her fist into his nose. The satisfying cracking sound eased the pain singing up her arm from the impact.

  “You bitch!” he roared, releasing his hold on her.

  She drew in a deep breath and did something she hadn’t done since sixth grade; she screamed for help. The sound of heavy footfalls headed her way, and she turned away from her attacker—a mistake, because a shove from behind sent her down hard on both knees.

  Deep voices answering her call gave her the strength to get up and start to give chase, knowing there was only one direction to go—toward the Main Street end of the alley. She stumbled but kept going, ignoring the pain in her knees.

  “Call Mitch!” Charlie shouted, tossing his cell phone at her as he and Tommy sprinted past her.

  Grateful for a moment to catch her breath, she leaned against the wall and dialed 911. When Cindy Harrington answered, she cleared her throat and told her what had happened. While Cindy kept her talking, Kate and Peggy were already running toward her.

  “Grace!” Peggy called to her.

  “Oh my God!” Kate shrieked. “You’re bleeding.”

  Grace looked from her friend’s horrified face to the front of the T-shirt she’d borrowed from Patrick. The block letters spelling out FDNY were covered with blood. The sight of it left her light-headed. “Not mine,” she managed.

  “Come on, honey,” Peggy crooned, putting an arm around Grace’s waist.

  “You need to sit,” Kate told her, slipping her arm around Grace from the other side. “Your poor knees.”

  Grace looked down and swore. “These jeans weren’t even broken in yet.” Sandwiched between the McCormack sisters, Grace let herself be led to the diner.

  Inside, they pushed her onto a chair by the front window. Peggy went to fetch her first-aid kit, while Kate asked, “Who did this to you?”

  “I’ve never seen him before.”

  Peggy returned with a bowl of steaming water, peroxide, and a bag of cotton balls. “Doc’s on his way,” Peggy told her.

  “I don’t need a doctor.”

  “Tough,” Peggy grumbled.

  “Wait!” Kate called out. “I should probably take a picture in case Mitch needs it.”

  Grace was about to tell Kate she watched too much TV when the pain in her wrists had her remembering the bruises on Kate’s. They hadn’t caught the guy who assaulted her friend. What were the odds that he’d come back?

  Mulling it over, she waited while Kate took the picture and Peggy started cleaning her knees. She sucked in a breath as the peroxide started doing its job. “That stings.”

  Peggy glanced up but kept working. “That’s how you know it’s getting rid of the dirt and stones and whatever else got ground into your knees when you landed in the alley.”

  Before her friend could switch to the other knee, Jack burst through the open door. “Grace! What happened?”

  The concern in his tone felt like a hug. Despite the fact that she said she didn’t want anyone to call him, she did feel better knowing that someone from her family was here for her.

  “She was attacked,” Kate told him.

  Jack looked from Kate to Peggy and back to Grace. “Thanks, Peggy. I’ll take it from here.”

  With a deft hand and light touch, he had her other knee cleansed and free of debris by the time Charlie and Tommy walked into the diner. Both young men were out of breath and covered in sweat. “We almost caught him,” Charlie told her.

  “Yeah, but he’d parked a car behind the Gazette and had one of those key chains that you can start your car with.”

  “Bastard was a few steps ahead of us when he leaped in the car and drove away.”

  “Did you get the li
cense plate number?” Grace asked, hoping they had at least that much.

  “I only got the first three numbers,” Charlie said.

  “He was driving a Crown Vic,” Tommy told them. “You know, like one of those undercover cop cars on TV.”

  Kate had grabbed one of the pads they used to take orders and started jotting down whatever was said. “OK,” she said, turning toward Grace. “What did the son of a bitch look like?”

  Grace described him as best she could, but other than his height, build, and hair color, she hadn’t had time to get a good look at him.

  Rhonda showed up a few minutes later with Grace’s father and Mary. The room was buzzing with conjecture and offers of getting a posse together—that would be her dad’s idea. It made Grace smile.

  While Charlie and Tommy took Rhonda out to the alley to take pictures, Mitch told them to wait for Deputy Jones. They grumbled but did as he asked. A few minutes later, the four of them went outside.

  Mary waited until Jack was finished checking out Grace’s hands and knees before she shooed him to the side. “Let’s get the blood off that shirt.” As she was leading Grace to the ladies’ room, Mitch walked into the diner and told them to wait.

  “I brought a spare shirt with me.” He handed it to Grace. “I need yours for evidence.”

  She was hesitant to turn the shirt that still had a hint of Patrick’s scent on it over to him but knew it would be important if they could identify her attacker’s blood type. “It’s not mine,” she warned.

  Mitch nodded. “You can tell Patrick he can have it back when we’re through.”

  She froze in her tracks. “I didn’t say who it belonged to.”

  He looked up at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze met hers. “And that’s why I’m the sheriff around these parts,” he told her, making her smile. “I know things.”

  “I took notes, Mitch,” Kate said, handing them over while Mary tugged on Grace’s arm to get her moving again.

  “What you need is a cup of my special tea,” Mary told her, holding the door to the ladies’ room open for Grace. “Do you want any help?”