Today, Tomorrow, Always

by Peggy Jaeger

  The warmth flowing from the fireplace was nothing compared to the heat radiating between our bodies.

  “The second I saw you’d lit a fire, I wanted you in front of it, naked, and under me,” Frayne whispered as he nuzzled my cheek, “while I made love to you.”

  I’d never been so happy in my life I’d struck a match to the kindling.

  With one hand tucked under my knees supporting me, Frayne grabbed the afghan from the rocking chair and tossed it on the rug in front of the bricks. Bent on one knee and still supporting all my weight in his arms, he sat me down next to it. Effortlessly, he spread the covering, then slid two couch pillows on top of it.

  On both knees now, he pulled me flat up against him. With our arms wound around one another, our lips fused, we sank to the floor in one slow glide.

  The firewood crackled and popped, the fiery orange glow of the flames dancing over the room. I’ve always loved the smell of a fire, and the earthy aroma of burning wood filled the room and my senses.

  Frayne eased back from the kiss and trailed a finger across my cheek. It was barely three p.m., but the snow had darkened the daylight filtering through the windows. Half his face was lit from the flickering fire, half shaded. Even through the dimmed lighting, the desire in his eyes was vivid and dazzling as he stared down at me.

  “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Your skin is like gold, shot with the light from the fire, your eyes like two polished, freshly mined emeralds. Bright. Incandescent.” His thumb stroked my bottom lip, and every nerve ending in my body fired from the sensation. “Your mouth is wet and red and swollen. I did that. My mouth on yours.” His voice grew husky with the revelation. When his gaze found mine again, it took everything in me not to cry out in wonder at the fathomless cauldron of emotions swimming in his eyes. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Cathy. And I want you. So much, I can’t even find the words to tell you properly.”

  Exhilaration bounded and flashed through me. For him, only him, I wanted to be beautiful, inside and out.

  I snaked my hands under the hem of his sweater and pulled him back down to me. His skin was smooth and soft, and my fingertips singed from his natural warmth.

  “Show me, then,” I commanded. “Show me.”

  With a simple one-handed tug, he lifted his sweater and T-shirt up and off. His hair rioted around his head, and he swiped the sides back, off his face, smoothing it down.

  That done, he pulled me up to a sitting position. My sweatshirt joined his on the floor. The plain white bra I’d donned today wasn’t anywhere near as sexy as the black strapless one had been, but when Frayne’s eyes drifted over it, across my straining breasts, and then dilated with desire, I knew it didn’t matter. He placed a sweet, wet kiss over one material-clad nipple and then sucked the tip through the fabric before moving to its twin. My back arched, allowing him better access, silently begging for more.

  When his low, deep chuckle filled the space between us, I realized I hadn’t been silent after all.

  The fact I wasn’t embarrassed by the knowledge was telling on my part.

  Soon, the rest of our clothes were shed.

  My hands found their true calling as they skimmed and stroked over every inch of his delectable flesh. My nails flirted with the corrugations in his abs; my fingertips teased his pebbled nipples; my palms smoothed and massaged the corded muscles in his back. And when my hand fisted over the solid, long length of him, felt him pulse and throb beneath my touch, a surge of power exploded through me again.

  Before the smile blooming on my face reached fruition, Frayne had me flat on my back, the soft feel of the afghan skating against my naked skin, my wrists gently imprisoned within his hands and held over my head.

  “You asked me to show you how beautiful you are to me, Cathy. Let me?”

  That he’d asked, after the intimacy we’d already shared, was simply heart warming. A simple nod from me and he freed my wrists. I let them drift to my sides.

  His breath was warm against my neck as he nuzzled behind my ear and then pulled the lobe between his teeth, biting down with his lips. A subtle shift and his lips dragged down my throat, over the pulse pounding in my neck.

  “Your heart’s racing,” he whispered against the notch in my shoulder. He lifted one of my hands up to the left side of his chest. “So’s mine.”

  He kept up his downward descent, his tongue licking across my collarbone then diving into the space between my breasts and lapping. He pushed my breasts together with his hands, then cupped and plumped each one as he drew one nipple, then the other, between his lips and suckled.

  My insides coiled like a spring with each subtle tug of his tongue, tightening and spiraling dangerously close to unraveling. I threaded my fingers into his temples and clutched all that glorious, thick hair between them. Frayne smiled against my breast.

  He moved down my belly, which by now had gone concave from all the air I was gulping in and gasping out, stopped to kiss my bellybutton, then moved farther downward, his lips never lifting from my skin.

  That spring constricted even more as a steady, pounding pulse beat against the apex of my thighs. A nudge with his nose and my legs opened and spread wide at his silent command. My thighs quaked, my feet arched in an attempt to keep me from leaping into the air as anticipation sped through my system. When his mouth, his wet, hot, persistent mouth, tenderly kissed the folds between my thighs, my hips rose up, arching into him, pleading for…more.

  Where had this demanding, insistent woman come from? I tended to think she was always inside me, biding her time for the right moment to make her presence known. And, I imagined, waiting for the right man to meet and fulfill her buried needs.

  Mac Frayne, for all appearances, was that man. His generosity as a lover knew no bounds as he brought me to the pinnacle of pleasure and beyond. Tears blurred my vision as I gazed up at him after the tremors shaking through me subsided. Propped on an elbow with his free hand kneading one of my still trembling thighs, the smile he gave me was part delight, part arrogance, and all devotion.

  “You’re beautiful in any light,” he whispered and kissed my cheek. “But by firelight, warm and satisfied, you glow.”

  He swiped a finger at one of the tears spilling over from the corner of my eye.

  “Happy tears?” he asked.

  Words wouldn’t form. I pulled him down on top of me, cradled his head into the hollow of my shoulder, and, with our legs twined together, closed my eyes.

  When I opened them again, I was in my own bed, the room dark. I was naked under the blankets, and I was alone.

  The bedside clock told me I’d slept the afternoon away.

  I had no memory of coming up to bed, nothing after the mind-blowing orgasm Frayne had given me.

  Frayne.

  Where was he?

  I got up and took a quick look out the bedroom window. It was snowing heavily, the ground covered. From the depth of the tire tracks on the road, we’d gotten about four or six inches, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon.

  Welcome to January in New Hampshire.

  The clothes I’d worn after my second shower were on top of my dresser, folded. I wasn’t the only thing Frayne had carried to my bedroom. I got dressed, ran a brush through my hair, then readjusted it back into a messy knot, brushed my teeth, and made my way downstairs.

  The kitchen and dining room lights were lit, and the scent of burning wood told me the fire was still roaring. I found Frayne as I had earlier, seated in the dining room, typing on his laptop, totally engrossed in what he was doing. He was dressed again, but under the table, his feet were bare. My lips lifted at the chaos of his hair.

  A warm, deep sense of contentment surged through me, coupled with a feeling of such intense joy I lost my breath as I stood in the doorway staring at him.

  Was it possible to fall in love with someone in such a short time s
pan? It was barely two weeks since we’d met, been lovers for less than twenty-four hours.

  Could I be in love with him?

  The thought should have been alarming. It wasn’t. If anything it was astonishing I could feel this much for a man after Danny’s betrayal.

  Frayne stopped typing to read something on the screen. I slipped into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea.

  “Cathy?”

  “I’m in the kitchen.”

  A half second later he joined me.

  “I was trying to be quiet. I didn’t want to disturb you while you were reading.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”

  “Fine. I can’t believe I slept so long. I guess I didn’t realize how sleep deprived I’ve been lately. It finally caught up with me.”

  “You were pretty conked out. You never even flinched when I carried you upstairs.”

  I rolled my eyes and grinned as I took down two mugs. “I can’t believe you were able to get me up to bed and under the covers without my knowing it. You want a cup of coffee?”

  He continued to stare at me, his eyes intense and inquiring.

  “What?”

  “You’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

  “Not trouble, no. It’s been a little…different without George. I’m not used to being alone in the house. I guess subconsciously I realize it and don’t sleep as soundly as I did when he was with me.”

  He came closer, relieved me of the mugs, and then slipped his arms around my waist. My hands instinctively settled on his chest and, as I burrowed into him, my eyes drifted close.

  “You’re so warm,” I murmured, snuggling even closer.

  The strong, steady beat of his heart against my ear was soothing, and I had a fleeting notion to bring him up to my bedroom where we could lie together, cuddle, and nap some more.

  Or maybe do other things aside from nap.

  The whistle of the teakettle shattered the thought a second later.

  “What have you been doing for the past three hours while I’ve been imitating a sloth?” I asked while I steeped my tea and set about making him a single cup of coffee.

  His grin was quick and boyish. “Never that. I discovered the Richmond Josiah alluded to is the one in Virginia. A few pages after the first mention, he clarified the location. I’ve been searching through online government and county records and documents from the time period to see if I can get a bead on the Heaven name.”

  “Any luck?”

  “None so far, but not every county has digitalized their old records yet. I may need to drive down to Richmond for a few days and go through actual archives.”

  A tiny sense of sadness swiftly shot through me at the notion he’d be gone. What did it say about me that I wanted to go with him? Chuck my responsibilities, my clients, Nanny, and take off with him?

  “It’s too bad your schedule is so busy or we could go together.”

  Let’s add mind reader to all the other attributes I’d already assigned him.

  I handed him the filled coffee mug and glanced out the kitchen window at a scraping sound in my driveway.

  “It’s my plow girl, Hailey. She comes when we get four or more inches of snow. Looks like we’ve got about six right now.”

  “There’s a job description you don’t hear every day. Plow girl. As opposed to plow guy?”

  “Her father’s the guy. He owns the business, and Hailey is one of his workers. They plow me out in the winter and take care of mowing my lawn in the spring and summer. Danny was never around to do those things, and I was too busy with my practice, so I hired out.”

  “Two factors living in the city I never need to worry about—mowing lawns and shoveling snow.”

  We took our mugs and walked back to the dining room.

  “I think it’s time I start photographing and documenting Robert’s personal things,” I said after glancing at everything we’d unpacked. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can call Leigh and have the museum take possession of it all.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. My eyes are beginning to cross from all the reading I’ve done today.”

  For the next hour, we separated all the clothes we’d already unpacked into categories, Frayne inspecting every item, detailing the make, color, and time period of the pieces, and then dealt with the other items we’d found in the containers, while I documented them on my laptop and took pictures with my phone.

  By the time we were finished, we were both hungry. The last time we’d eaten was breakfast, so I put together a simple meal of the roasted pork Maureen had sent, along with a salad.

  As we sat and ate a leisurely meal together, it dawned on me how I could get used to this. Having someone at my table, enjoying one another’s company, talking about everything and anything that popped into our heads. Frayne wasn’t only an acute listener, he was a marvelous speaker as well. Maybe it was because he wrote for a living and loved words, but he never faltered when he was talking or stumbled, searching for a way to describe something or for a phrase. I loved listening to him as he told me about the research he’d done for the Dickinson book, or the traveling he’d had to do to discover everything he could about another of the historical figures he’d written of.

  He’d have made a marvelous professor. I could imagine all the females in his class glued to the edges of their seats as he presented a living history to them.

  When the dishes were done, he leaned against the kitchen counter, his hands once again crossed over his chest.

  I’d been silently debating whether or not I should ask him to spend the night again. I wanted him to, but I didn’t know how to ask without sounding needy. Maybe he didn’t want to spend the night. Maybe he wanted to get back to his room at the inn, to his privacy.

  “You look very pensive,” I said after I placed the last dried dish back in the cabinet. “Do people still say ‘a penny for your thoughts?’ Or is it too old-school?”

  “Not in my book.” He pushed off the counter and crossed to me, a question in his eyes. He slid his hands into my own and held them. The gesture was sweet and endearing. “Look, it’s getting late, and the snow doesn’t look like it’s letting up. I should get back to the inn before it gets any worse.” Something drifted by in his gaze as he spoke. Regret? Disappointment?

  That daring and brazen gene kicked into high gear again.

  Boldly, I wound his hands around me and stepped into the space separating us, the length of my body settling against his. His fingers dug into my hips as his brows tugged together.

  “Or.” I nuzzled my nose across his chin and then trailed my mouth along his jaw. “You could stay here tonight. If you did, I wouldn’t worry about you driving back to the inn in this storm.”

  “You would worry about me?” His throat bobbed when I kissed the hollow under his chin, then down the column of his neck.

  “Mmm. You’re not from around here.” He dipped his head toward me when I stretched up and pulled his earlobe between my lips. “During a snowstorm, the roads can be—” I bit down on it. “—treacherous to someone who’s not used to them.”

  Frayne swallowed again. With my intent obvious, I snaked my knee between his legs and then lifted it to skim along the inside of his thigh. His breath hitched, and there was no mistaking how heavily aroused he’d grown.

  “I think it’s better you stay here and…ride it out. Be safe, you know? It should be over by the morning, and Hailey will be back to plow again.”

  Was it terrible of me that I sent up a silent prayer asking to be snowbound for a few days?

  With a groan pushing through his lips, he flattened his hands across my butt and lifted me even closer against him. “Safe?” he murmured against my temple. “I think that’s…wise. To be safe. And not…sorry.”

  The last word died on his lips as he crushed his mouth against mine.

  Pretty soon all thoughts of his leaving were forgotten.

  As discussed, he rode out the storm…in my bed.


  And I rode him. Several times.

  Chapter 16

  In my thirty-nine years on Earth, I’d discovered many things about myself, one of the most important being that habits, although hard for me to break, were notoriously easy to make.

  Case in point: Mac Frayne.

  Describing him as a habit might sound strange, but his presence in my daily life grew to be one in almost no time. The night of the storm and every night thereafter for the next week, he spent in my bed. I’d wake in the morning to the aroma of coffee brewing because Frayne was an early riser. I’d shower and be met with a mug filled with tea, a toe-curling kiss, and breakfast waiting for me when I came into the kitchen. I’d go off to the office and when I’d arrive home later in the day, Frayne’d be at the dining room table, his laptop open, surrounded by Josiah’s and Robert’s journals and his glasses a single inhale away from falling off his nose.

  We’d spend a bit getting reacquainted—in the romantic sense—then I’d fix dinner and we’d chat about our day.

  All in all, I’d spent more time with Mac in one week than I had with Danny during his last three leaves.

  At night, we’d cuddle in front of the fire and talk. Mac told me all about his lonely childhood and how his parents hadn’t known what to do with an inquisitive, active boy at their time in life. He’d been much of a loner all through school, quiet and intent on making a name for himself in the book world.

  It came as a surprise when he revealed he’d gotten engaged in his senior year in college. His fiancée, a humanities major, had been a girl he’d been partnered with in freshman English. One thing had led to another, and soon they were dating. He proposed right before they graduated. When she was offered a chance to teach a summer course in Europe, he encouraged her to go. She had and, when she came home in August, told him she didn’t want to marry him anymore because she’d met her true “soul mate” while she’d been away.

  “The fact the soul mate’s name was Claudia was a bit of a shock,” he told me as we cuddled together on the couch.