by Kim Amos
She tilted her head back to give him access to her long, white neck. He kissed her soft skin, pulling her closer to him with his strong workman’s hands. She could feel the hard length of him pressed between their two bodies.
Finally, they stepped into the shower, glistening and wet under the spray. Reaching for her soap, she lathered her hands and ran them across Burk’s broad chest, down his flat, muscled stomach and to his penis. She lingered on his hardness with soapy strokes that had him growling in the back of his throat.
“Careful, love,” he said, staying her hands after a few moments. “If you keep going, I won’t be able to do all the things I want to do to you. And that would be a shame.” Quickly rinsing the soap from his member, he turned Willa around in the small space, and pulled her toward his chest. Her spine fit against his abdomen; his penis pressed against the backs of her thighs. Water rained down on her skin in stark contrast to the shivery thrill she felt inside as he reached a hand between her legs. From behind, he gently parted her folds—a delicate touch that had her reaching out to the tiled walls for support.
Burk kissed her neck, nibbled her lobe, murmured into her ears as the water splashed. Slowly, he slid a finger inside her aching depths. She arched away from him, but he brought her back with his free arm, anchoring her to him. “Stay with me, my love,” he whispered above the sound of the spray. Expertly he stroked inside her, plunging and pulsing with one finger, then two, then three, until she thought she would faint from the perfect movement. He drew her toward the edge of pleasure.
Placing his free hand on her stomach, he ran his fingers down, down the front of her until he discovered her center, warmer than the water that sprayed around them. He touched the swollen tip and she cried out. His penis pressed harder against her, his fingers slid deeper. “My Willa,” he said, his voice impossibly deep, “tell me what you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”
“There,” she begged as his fingers swirled on her clitoris. “Oh, Burk, just like that. Just like that.”
He pulled her toward him, pushing his fingers deeper, and she broke in his arms, her pleasure raining down around him like the water in the shower. She arched and cried out, rivulets of wetness coursing down her neck and down the slick folds of her sex.
He held her as she shattered, his muscled arms supporting her, his lips speaking tender endearments. She whimpered, limp with spent pleasure under the soothing water.
“We get to do this forever, you know,” he said. Willa could feel a smile on his lips as he kissed her damp neck. He turned her around gently to face him, freeing his fingers as he did so. She ached at the lack of him, but he shook his head, as if reading her thoughts. “Don’t worry, there’s more where that came from.” Shampooing his hair quickly, he rinsed off and Willa did the same. Within minutes, they were wrapped up in towels, padding down the hallway to Willa’s room.
As he dimmed the new recessed lights, Willa pulled back her old bedspread and dropped her towel. “My God, you are so beautiful,” he said, his eyes raking over her body in the room’s soft glow. For the first time in a long time, Willa felt as if that was really true. She ran her hands down her sides, up her stomach, feeling the divine fullness of her own breasts, the dewy softness of her skin, the hardness of the muscles underneath. Burk watched her, a hunger building behind his eyes.
Climbing into bed, Willa parted her own legs, touched her own center. She sighed at the delicate pleasure that tingled through every nerve. Across the room, Burk dropped his towel and came to the bed. “I can’t watch you do that for very long,” he said, his hands cupping one breast, then the other. He climbed on top of her, settling between her parted legs.
“You should never have to touch yourself,” he murmured, the tip of his penis pressing against her. “Never again. Not as long as I’m around.”
Willa smiled. “I don’t mind,” she said, “especially now that I know how much it gets you off.”
“Not as much as me touching you, though,” he countered, and slid inside her in one smooth stroke.
Willa gasped as he filled her up, the connection between them overpowering her senses. This was the man she loved. This was the man she would marry. She circled her arms around him.
“I need you so much,” she whispered, twining her fingers through his glossy black hair. “I have always needed you.”
“I’m here now,” he answered, pressing against her until all of him was buried—until nothing more of their parts could be connected because they’d opened themselves so totally to each other. Willa arched her hips, and Burk grasped her rounded bottom in his hands, thrusting inside her. He swore softly as she writhed against him, struggling to be closer still.
She wrapped her legs around his flesh desperately. “I don’t ever want to be away from this. From you,” she breathed. He responded by kissing her deeply, hungrily, his tongue filling her mouth the same way his penis filled her core.
He brought her to the edge of ecstasy again. The headboard slammed into the freshly painted walls. Willa’s hands gripped his shoulders as he drove her headlong into wave after wave of pleasure. Her innermost muscles contracted around him, coaxing him into his own overpowering orgasm. Together, they both cried out, calling each other’s names, their physical bliss filling up the empty halls and rooms.
The whole house shook with the force of their lovemaking, the structure impacted and changed as they shook beams and rattled plaster and clattered windowpanes.
When it was all over with—as Burk and Willa tumbled, exhausted, into each other’s arms—the house seemed to sigh as well.
The home settled around them, creaking and satisfied.
It was exactly as it was meant to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
One year later
Saturday, September 14, 3:49 p.m.
The living room was filled with arrangements of sunflowers, chrysanthemums, sage, goldenrod, daisies, and burnt orange calla lilies. Willa fingered the baby-soft petal of a daisy, admiring how the bright flowers complemented the rich woodwork of the floors, not to mention the custom cream silk curtains that Betty had helped cut and sew a few months prior.
She inhaled the sweet, heady scent of all the flowers and smiled to herself. The house was perfect. The day was perfect. And this wedding was going to be perfect as well.
She hummed as she walked to the kitchen, the late-afternoon sun streaming into the bright white space through new windows. Outside, the crisp blue sky contrasted with the rust and gold leaves of the trees, which had just started to turn.
As she was reaching out to taste some of the salmon mousse the caterer had left, hands grasped her from behind. She squealed and turned to face Burk.
“You’ll give me a heart attack,” she said, swatting him playfully, “and then who will make sure this wedding comes off without a hitch?” Burk’s enormous hands grasped either side of her face and pulled her into a kiss that left her breathless.
“Forget the wedding,” he said, his voice rumbling when their lips finally broke apart. “I want you. Let’s head out and go somewhere. Just the two of us.”
“And leave all these guests in the lurch?” Willa laughed. “I don’t think so.”
Burk studied her with amusement crinkling the sides of his ocean blue eyes. “You’re more nervous about this wedding than you were about ours. How is that possible?”
Willa studied her husband and felt a jolt of emotion. They’d been married last winter, but it still felt like they were on their honeymoon. Every day with Burk was better than the last. And now, she felt a twinge of excitement that it was Betty’s turn to discover the joys of matrimony—with Pastor Sondheim.
“I am scared to death that Betty won’t like something and will yell at me in front of everyone,” Willa confessed. “The minute she said she wanted to get married here, I knew it had to be perfect.”
“And it is. You’re doing a great job. The bed-and-breakfast is full of guests who couldn’t be happier. Now will
you please celebrate and stop worrying?”
“If it’s not this business, it’s the other,” she teased. This past year, in addition to running the B and B, she and Burk had added an interior decorating arm to B.C.’s Contracting. That made it one-stop shopping for people who needed a new kitchen, for example, and also wondered how to decorate the new space. Many of the clients also wanted Willa’s custom furniture in their spaces—a side of the business that Stephanie was managing now that the twins were in school full-time.
Everyone was getting used to the new arrangement, which was a far cry from where Willa had been just a few months prior. So much had changed over the past year. She still marveled at the notion that she and Burk were married. This man was hers. She reached out and placed a hand on the arm of his pressed suit jacket.
“I love you,” she whispered to him as caterers came inside the sliding-glass door to grab trays of hors d’oeuvres for the guests out back. He pulled her to him, the tulle and silk of her bridesmaid dress rustling as he pressed her close.
“This whole day makes me want to marry you all over again,” he murmured into her hair, which was pulled back into a loose chignon. “I love you, too, and I always will.”
He’d barely grazed her lips in a delicate kiss when a streak of white and yellow dashed around them. “Burby!” Juniper cried, streaking through caterers’ legs and nearly toppling a stacked tier of gourmet cupcakes.
Burk and Willa shared an amused look before Burk gave chase. “Come on, little bug,” he cried, rushing outside in hopes that Juniper would follow, “let’s play horsey in the yard.”
Willa followed at a more leisurely pace. Her heels clacked gently on the refinished wood of the back deck. All around were ceramic pots filled with more flowers. In the middle of the yard was a white tent with white lights strung along the edges. When the sun set, it would light up like a fairyland.
A few rows of white chairs dotted the expanse of green backyard. Betty’s wedding was smallish—around fifty guests—but Willa wanted to make sure no detail was overlooked.
She glanced over to the refinished garage, near which Pastor Sondheim was standing, sweating underneath the bright fall sun. His cheeks were pink, his brown hair slicked back. Willa grabbed a bottle of cool water on her way over to talk with him, which he accepted gratefully.
“Breathe,” she whispered to him, patting his arm reassuringly. He nodded and gulped the liquid, as if his throat were on fire.
“Just a few more minutes,” Willa said, glancing at her cell phone. She had a new text from Betty.
Let’s get this party started.
“I’ll start rounding up the guests. You’d better take your place by the pastor, Pastor.”
Sondheim nodded, and headed to the trellis staged in front of all the folding chairs. Pastor Bjornson from the Lutheran church down in New Prave was already in place, ready to conduct the ceremony. Next to Pastor Bjornson was Pastor Sondheim’s best man, his brother Gus Sondheim, who worked as a cardiologist down at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester. Willa gave them all a thumbs-up, then gently urged people into their seats, just as the small three-piece orchestra started up.
Seeing Audrey motioning for her from the sliding-glass door, Willa dashed up the back steps and inside to join the other bridesmaids. Audrey, Anna, and Stephanie all stood just inside the door. Each of them wore the same plum-colored dress that Willa sported. Betty was the beautiful anomaly in her long, white silk dress, her curly blond hair piled on top of her head in beautiful tendrils that were held in place with a delicate veil.
“Oh,” Willa breathed, “you look stunning.”
“I hope the photographer does his job,” Betty said, barely holding back an eye roll. “Because I am never wearing this much makeup ever again.”
Musical notes floated up to them from the yard. It was the bridal march.
It was time.
“Just like in rehearsal?” Audrey asked. “Two on each side?”
“If my dad were still alive, I know he’d approve of you girls walking me down the aisle,” Betty said, her eyes shining uncharacteristically. “But even if he didn’t, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Grinning at each other, the four women walked their friend across the deck and into the yard. After they handed off the bride to her new groom, Willa found her seat in the front row next to Burk. He laced his fingers through hers for the whole of the ceremony, his firm grasp a reminder that he was hers. Forever. Occasionally he caught her eye, and she read in his expression the same, steady message of love that coursed through her own heart.
When Betty and Randall had exchanged their I do’s and were pronounced husband and wife, the little backyard party stood and applauded.
“By the way, what did you choose on the menu option?” Willa asked as Betty walked back down the grassy aisle. Her face was light and glowing, her white silk train rippling behind her like pearled water. “Chicken, steak, or hot dish?”
Burk grinned. “I chose the one that will always remind me of you.”
“Chicken?” Willa asked playfully.
“Hardly. You know it’s hot dish. A blend of all the things you never knew could go together, but somehow work in perfect unison.”
“Don’t forget the heaps of cheese to tie it all together,” Willa said, her hands playing with the platinum band on his left hand. “There’s always lots of cheese with hot dish.”
“Am I the cheese in this scenario?” Burk asked as the waiters began to circulate crisp, bubbling champagne to all the guests.
Willa smiled up at him, his handsome face making her heart race. “You’re…a Gouda guy.”
“I’m cheddar than nothing.”
“You’ll Brie right back?”
Burk laughed and kissed her. “Good one. But I’m not going anywhere.”
Willa returned the kiss with blissful abandon, while the smell of baking hot dish trailed out from the house and over the guests—and into her heart.
Willa Masterson’s
Spice-It-Up Hot Dish
From the kitchen of the White Pine Bed-and-Breakfast.
Ingredients
2 pounds ground beef
1 sweet onion, diced
1½ tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
2 (10.75-ounce) cans condensed cream of mushroom soup
1 (16-ounce) package frozen spinach, thawed and drained
8 slices pepper jack cheese
1 jalapeño, deseeded, sliced crosswise into thin rings
1 package frozen potato rounds (Tater Tots)
Directions
Preheat the oven to 350ºF.
Crumble the ground beef into a large skillet over medium-high heat. When it starts to release some juices, add the onion. Season with the Worcestershire sauce, salt, and pepper. Cook until fully browned and the onions are soft. Drain off any excess grease, and stir in the cream of mushroom soup and spinach.
Transfer the beef mixture to a 9-by-3-inch baking dish. Top with slices of pepper jack cheese. Layer the jalapeños over of the cheese, then neatly layer the potato rounds over the top of the entire casserole.
Bake for 45 to 60 minutes in the preheated oven, until the potato rounds are toasted.
Serve and enjoy with friends.
Five years ago, Audrey Tanner thought that Kieran Callaghan was The One…until he suddenly left town and disappeared from her life. Now Kieran is back—hotter than ever—and determined to win her back.
But this time, Audrey’s calling the shots. He broke her heart once, and she won’t give in without a fight…
And Then He Kissed Me
A preview follows.
CHAPTER ONE
Audrey Tanner could feel her underwear riding up her backside. Sweat was trickling down her thighs in rivulets. Skin-tight jeans were nearly cutting off her circulation, and leather chaps on top of the denim were raising her core body temperature enough to make her light-headed
. In that moment, she realized that a girl could be uncomfortable or embarrassed, but to be both at the same time was a special kind of torture.
One she’d signed up for.
If her denim had had enough flexibility, she might have tried to kick herself. As it stood, she was practically immobile from the waist down, so she figured the only thing to do was to try not to fall over in her stilettos.
She placed her hands on her hips and attempted to look alluring just like the sales manager had asked. Leather fringe on her cufflinks fluttered like strips of ribbon in the wind. Standing next to the Harley-Davidson motorcycle in the showroom, she wondered what, exactly, alluring was. Track coaches didn’t get much practice with things like that.
Former track coaches, that is.
A sharp pain pierced the tender place just behind her breastbone. She gritted her teeth. Smile more, think less.
The murmurs of the customers filled her ears. People swarmed amid the shiny chrome and sleek black lines of the motorcycles lining the floor all around her. The machines were sleeping monsters that roared to life whenever the ignition fired. All day, drivers had been thundering up and down the road just beyond the towering showroom windows, like cowboys riding handlebarred horses.
The noise from the engines was so loud sometimes she could hardly think. Which may have been a good thing, considering the only thing her brain wanted to focus on was the question of what in the heck she was doing here.
“Audrey?”
She turned. It must have been the sixth or seventh time she’d heard the question since she started her shift, the vowels and consonants of her name laced with disbelief.
This time, it was Red Updike. He’d sold her grass-fed beef from his farm for years, and had been a friend of her dad’s. He stared at her, flannel shirt tucked into his well-worn Levi’s, his mouth pulled slightly downward.
