The Notorious Groom (Desire)

by Caroline Cross

  Her chin rose a fraction and she took the turn for the house with impressive speed. Seconds later she pulled up before the front door and stopped. Wasting no time, she put the transmission in neutral, pulled on the parking brake, turned off the engine and handed him the keys. “Thank you very much for the lesson.” She reached for the door handle.

  “Look.” He tossed the keys on the seat and leaned toward her. “I’m sorry if I was too blunt for your tender sensibilities.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “But that doesn’t mean you have to get all torqued off.”

  Her expression carefully blank, she climbed out of the car, quietly closed the door, walked around the hood and started up the front steps.

  With an oath of frustration, he scrambled after her. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, catching up with her at the door.

  “Inside.” She twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

  He caught her by the arm and tugged her around. “Dammit, Norah! I said I was sorry!”

  “If you’re sorry, why are you yelling at me?”

  “I’m not yelling!”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “The hell I am!”

  “I thought we were friends. Friends don’t treat each other this way.”

  “Well, think again! Maybe I don’t want to be your friend!”

  “Oh!”

  He felt like the worst sort of bully when he saw the hurt in her eyes, but that didn’t stop him from adding, “And don’t start crying, either!”

  She stared at him, then looked down, ostensibly studying the ground. She hugged her arms to herself, but not before he saw, to his shock, that her hands were shaking. She took a deep breath. “What do you want from me, Eli?”

  “I don’t know, dammit!”

  Even as he said it, even as his gaze slid to her trembling mouth, he knew it was a lie.

  He knew exactly what he wanted.

  And she wanted it, too, he finally admitted, as he looked up and found her watching him, all his own aching need and turbulent hunger mirrored in her soft gray eyes. “Damn,” he murmured helplessly. “Damn.”

  In the next instant she was in his arms.

  “Eli.” Norah rocked up on the tips of her toes, threaded her hands in his hair, and clung to him, quivering as she pressed fervent kisses to his jaw and throat. “Oh, Eli, please, please don’t be mad at me....”

  For what felt like an endless second, he seemed rooted in place. And then a shudder went through him. “Shh, shh, it’s all right, baby. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m sorry. I was a jerk.” With a frantic sound torn deep from his throat, he lifted her up, wrapped his arms around her and found her mouth with his own.

  Relief rolled through Norah. He wasn’t angry. Better yet, he was kissing her, his whole big body shaking with what she now recognized as barely leashed desire. She squeezed her eyes shut and sent up a silent prayer of thanks, then slid her hands out of his hair and under his shirt, needing to touch his bare skin, needing to touch him.

  Eli groaned. Turning with her in his arms, he stumbled backward, nudged the door the rest of the way open with his hip, and carried her across the threshold.

  Whimpering at the need that was already rocketing out of control, Norah wrapped her legs around his hips and tightened her hold on him, seeking some relief for her swollen, tender breasts against his big, solid chest. “I want to touch you,” she confided breathlessly against his mouth, amazed at her newfound nerve.

  He slammed the door shut with his foot and turned, pressing her up against the cool wood. “Oh, baby. Don’t be greedy.” He eased her down so her feet touched the ground, freeing his hands to slide under her clothing and cup her breasts. “Me first.”

  She swallowed hard, unprepared for the ripples of pleasure that radiated through her as he rubbed her tender, distended nipples with his palms. “That feels so good....”

  Despite the need that was clearly riding him, a faint smile flickered across his face. “Yeah. It does.”

  He slid his mouth along her collarbone, the motion brushing his cool, silky hair over her sensitized skin at the same time his clever fingers stroked her torso. Excitement sizzled along her nerve endings and she shut her eyes in a futile attempt to cope with the overload of sensation. Drunk on pleasure, it wasn’t until a few seconds after he’d unsnapped her bra and pulled it and her shirt over her head that she realized her breasts were bare to his gaze. She opened her eyes, heat washing up her neck and exploding in her cheeks as she found him looking at her. “Oh, my,” she said faintly.

  “It’s okay,” he said, silencing her protest. Holding her gaze, he deliberately reached down, cupped her breasts in his big, warm hands and circled the pale pink tips with his thumbs. “Trust me. You’re beautiful.”

  “Oh, Eli...” Nobody had ever called her beautiful. Her heart in her throat, she watched as he lowered his sun-streaked head and closed his mouth over one distended nipple. Gasping, she arched her back as he suckled, gently at first, and then with increasing pressure, the rhythmic pull and release causing a corresponding throb that grew increasingly more difficult to ignore.

  “Eli,” she murmured breathlessly, sure her knees were going to buckle. “I can’t...I need...oh, please...”

  He released her and slowly raised his head. “What?” he said hoarsely. “What do you need, Norah?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “You.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and sent her a crooked grin that went straight to her heart. “I was hoping you were going to say that. Come here.”

  He made as if to tug her to the floor, but she resisted. “No.”

  One dark eyebrow rose. “No?”

  “I—” She had to stop and clear her throat before she could get the words out. “I want to see you first.”

  “See me?”

  “You know,” she clarified, starkly aware of her own partial nudity. “Naked.”

  The tension that had come into his face abruptly disappeared. “No problem.” With an utter lack of self-consciousness, he backed up a step and yanked his shirt over his head. Then he pulled off his shoes and tossed them out of the way. Straightening, he unsnapped his shorts, hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down his narrow hips, snagging his briefs on the way. They hit the heavily padded Oriental rug without a sound. He stepped out of them and calmly met her gaze.

  He was beautiful. She was no stranger to his broad shoulders, strongly muscled chest and flat belly, or even the long column of his legs with their fine coating of sun gold hair. But now for the first time she saw his narrow hips and the tops of his powerful thighs, pale in contrast to the sun-bronzed skin below and above—and the thick shaft of his erection rising out of a cloud of fine dark hair. She stared, awed at the sheer, blatant glory of his body, so different from her own.

  “Your turn,” he said solemnly, with a nod of his head at her shorts.

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened. Even though she knew it was foolish, she took an involuntary step back, suddenly reluctant to have him see her pale, skinny body when his was so magnificent. “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. I’ll help.” Ignoring her sudden stage fright, he reached out and undid the fastenings on her shorts in a few quick motions. Then he slid his hands down her sides, caught the top of the shorts with his thumbs and pushed until the material slid over her hips. “It’s kind of hard to make love with your clothes on,” he confided as he stripped off her white cotton panties. “I mean, sure, it can be done. But it’s not nearly as much fun...”

  His voice drifted off as he straightened and took a long, leisurely look at her, his gaze tracing her small breasts, narrow midriff and delicate hips, then lingering on the vee of dark curls that hid her sex. “Damn, you’re pretty.”

  Her hands fluttered. “I’m not—”

  “Yeah. You are.” He leaned over and kissed her, his mouth plumbing hers insistently. To her surprise, then her relief, and finally her frustration, he was careful not to t
ouch her anywhere else.

  By the time he raised his head, the only thing holding her up was the door. Stepping back, he slowly pulled her into his arms, both of them shivering at that first full-body contact. And then his hands were stroking over her narrow back, cupping her bare bottom while she clung to his shoulders. Together, they slid to the floor.

  The thick rug felt soft and cool against Norah’s back. In startling contrast, Eli’s body was hot and hard as he lay down beside her. She couldn’t get enough of touching him, of exploring the differences in their bodies. She ran her palms against the coating of hair on his chest, marveling at how silk-over-steel solid he felt.

  Leaning over her, he reached down and wound her braid around his hand in a show of possession. Then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again and again until she was wrapped around him, her hands clutching his back, her legs twined with his, her hips drumming against his. Finally, mouths still fused, he rolled her beneath him.

  Bracing himself on his hands, he rose above her. “You all right?” He was out of breath himself, his body taut with desire.

  Norah looked up at him. Although the foyer was dim, sunlight filtered down in streaks from the windows high overhead. It caught in the thick strands of his hair and haloed the clean lines of his arms and shoulders. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  “Good.” He bent his head and pressed a kiss to one breast, slid lower and kissed her navel. To her shock, he then slid even lower, stroked his fingers through the soft hair of her sex, and gently parted her with his thumbs.

  “Eli—!” she cried, her body twisting in shocked excitement as he kissed the top of her woman’s cleft.

  Sliding his hands under her hips, he lifted her up and kissed her again, trying to do all he could to make sure she was ready. When she was finally rocking wildly against him, he rose over her, spread her legs wider with his thighs and set himself against her. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said huskily “This may hurt—at least, at first You’re so small.”

  “It’s all right,” she tried to reassure him, reaching up and touching a hand to his cheek. “Really. I know what to expect”

  “No.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm.

  “You just think you do” Gently, he rocked his hips and Norah gasped at the sudden pressure. “See?”

  What Norah saw was that he was giving her a gift. From the books she’d read, she knew that first times were most often hasty, awkward affairs. Instead, he was taking his time, treating her like a full partner, making their lovemaking something beautiful to remember.

  “I want you, Eli,” she told him, her gaze on his as he gently pushed again, trying to give her a chance to adjust to the size and shape of him.

  She arched her back, rising up to meet him, making a soft little sound of discomfort at the slow giving way of her flesh to his. Around them the house was hushed, the only sound that of Eli’s labored breathing and her own throaty murmuring. And still he continued to advance, refusing to rush until finally she’d taken all of him.

  He held still, giving her a chance to catch her breath. Then he pulled back, almost out of her, and slowly surged forward again. And then again, setting up a steadily escalating rhythm.

  At first, despite her sense of wonder at their joining, Norah was sure she was never again going to feel the throbbing, insistent desire that had been making her wild only minutes before. In its place was an inner stinging, an uncomfortable sensation of being stretched.

  Gradually, however, pleasure began to lap at her. At first it was a mere trickle, a fine stream of liquid heat that flowed from the outside in, soothing the ache, setting off a restless need for something that seemed just out of reach. She clutched at Eli, her hands digging into his back as she strained toward him and that elusive something. “Yes. Oh, yes—”

  “That’s right,” he murmured.

  She felt the muscles beneath her fingers contract as he slowed and deepened the angle of his stroke. She held on even tighter, her feet climbing the back of his strongly muscled thighs.

  The stream Of heat seemed to pool, to slowly ignite into a blaze of liquid fire at her core that grew with each thrust of Eli’s body into hers. And then that blaze seemed to contract, getting smaller, denser, hotter. She felt herself turning inward, felt her control start to fracture as everything inside her wound tighter and tighter.

  And then she was arching up, desperately holding on to him, crying out as a great wave of pleasure slammed into her, swallowing her up. “Ohhh! Oh, Eli. Don’t...don’t stop!”

  Eli’s breath exploded out of his lungs. “Don’t worry.” His buttocks flexing, he jerked back his hips, then drove them forward again and again, unable to stop as he felt her conwlsing around him. His own climax was explosive, driving him deeply inside her with each jetting pulsation.

  Damp from exertion, they held each other long after it was over. Finally, however, the chill from the air-conditioning against his bare back roused Eli. Raising himself up on his elbows, he looked down at her with a faint smile. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m...wonderful.”

  “Good.” He smoothed back a silky tendril of her hair, feeling a wave of proprietary tenderness. “You realize we’re crazy, don’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, there are—what?—eight bedrooms in this place? Maybe a dozen sofas? And I just took your virginity on the entry-hall floor.”

  A soft secret smile played across her mouth. “I know.”

  He searched her face. “You’re not upset?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m glad.”

  “You are? Why?”

  “Because from now on, every time I walk in or out the door, I’ll want to smile.”

  He looked at her, something fierce and foreign turning his insides to mush. And then he leaned down and kissed her.

  When he finally raised his head, they were both breathing hard. “Come on.” He climbed to his feet, leaned down and held out his hand.

  She took it. “Where are we going?” she asked as she stood.

  He slid his arm around her waist and urged her toward the stairs. “Let’s go find a bed.”

  Nine

  Norah lay in the powerful curve of Eli’s arm. Covered by nothing more than a sheet, she watched the morning sunshine creep farther into her bedroom, her heart filled with happiness.

  The past forty-eight hours had been incredible. Except for brief forays to raid the refrigerator or take a shower, she and Eli had spent the entire weekend in bed, making love, watching old movies and talking.

  They’d talked about Chelsea, with Eli sharing some funny stories about his trials and tribulations as a single dad, then bringing a lump to her throat when he’d sheepishly confided how reluctant he’d been to let his daughter go for the weekend.

  They’d talked about their jobs. She told him how the library had been her youthful haven and how much she loved being a librarian—except for the fund-raiser and Andrea’s constant complaining. He told her how surprised he’d been when his uncle had left him the garage, and how difficult it had been to come back to Kisscount, a decision he’d made primarily since he felt it would be best for Chelsea.

  They’d talked about their school days. Although she hadn’t been surprised when he confirmed her suspicion that there had been nothing to his hotly rumored affair with Miss Jensen, their history teacher, she had been amazed by how differently they viewed other parts of their common history. Eli now claimed it had been common knowledge it was okay for him to tease her, but no one else. He, in turn, had stared at her in disbelief when she haltingly admitted that he’d always fascinated her. His reaction—and her own instinct—had kept her from telling him the depth of her current feeling. She didn’t think he was ready to hear a declaration of love.

  Even so, the past pair of days had been so perfect that several times she’d been tempted to pinch herself to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

  Yet she knew it wasn’t. She knew it be
cause her body ached in places she hadn’t known existed a week ago. And because she felt acutely alive, as if all of her senses were really attuned to the world for the first time in her life. Of course, with Eli as her teacher, she’d discovered she was a very sensual creature.

  She gave a satisfied little sigh. Deep down, she’d always known there was another Norah trapped inside her, a wannabe vamp who longed to wear red, a dreamer who fantasized about knights on white horses, a romantic with a fondness for babies and flowers, a closet hedonist full of unawakened desires. That other woman had even made a few notable escapes, Norah acknowledged, glancing fondly at the fading outline of the rose tattoo on her ankle.

  But it had taken Elijah Wilder to truly set her free. It was her desire for him that had made her rebel against the rules and restrictions that had defined her life for thirty-four years. And it was her love for him that had given her the courage to change, releasing her from her self-imposed prison.

  He stirred. Shifting so she could see his face, she watched as the relaxed cocoon of sleep gave way to awareness. He stretched like a big cat, then slowly opened his eyes. “Hey, Boo,” he said lazily, the streaks of gold in his hair glinting in the sunlight.

  Norah felt a tickle of desire go through her, as if it had been weeks rather than hours since they’d last made love. “Good morning.”

  He yawned. “What time is it?”

  “A little after seven.”

  “Mmm.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, then gently eased himself away from her, climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

  She watched him pad unhurriedly across the room, completely at ease with his body, and wondered if she would ever be as nonchalant about his nudity as he was. She doubted it. Just looking at him—the smooth, muscular shoulders, the deep valley of his spine, the small tight buttocks, the long legs and lean, powerful thighs—made her temperature rise.

  He was too gorgeous for words. As well as exciting, wonderful and beguiling, she thought, rolling onto her stomach.

  He reappeared a few minutes later. “How long have you been up?” he asked as he slipped back into bed.