What a Woman

by Judi Fennell

  “More.” She grabbed his head and held him there, while she locked her ankles over his waist and tilted her pelvis to take him deeper.

  Jared was going to lose control that instant if he didn’t do something.

  So he did—he rocked into her and met her thrust for thrust. They’d slow it down next time. Right now, he had to have her.

  He kissed her again, his tongue mimicking what was happening between them, and she whimpered around it. God, he loved the sounds she made. The way she moved against him, her nipples tight, stroking his chest.

  He slid a hand beneath her butt and cradled her closer, grinding against her as his balls tightened.

  He was going to come and needed to make sure she did.

  He pushed himself back up above her, never pulling out entirely, but just enough to make a long, slow slide back in that made them both moan.

  “Jared.” She grabbed hold of his hips. “What are you doing?” She clenched them tighter. He could feel her nails making indentations in his skin and he didn’t give a damn. “Come back here.”

  “I will, Mac. I will. I promise.” And he did. Inch by inch.

  The pace was killing him.

  “Please, Jared.” She arched up, her breasts slick with sweat and it took every ounce of control he had not to fall onto her and finish the job.

  Instead, he slid one finger from the base of her throat, down her chest, over her pounding heart, and down her belly, watching it flutter as he moved lower.

  She shifted her hips and Jared made sure to do the same with his, stroking her from the inside.

  Her head thrashed. “God, Jared. Please.”

  “I will, baby. I will. I promise.”

  He slipped his finger below her belly button and let it trail so slowly down . . .

  “God, yes!” She arched when he touched her in that spot, so ready for this. Her legs fell to the side, her inner muscles clenching around him, sweat rolling down between his shoulder blades with the concentration it took not to just pound into her for his own satisfaction.

  “Please, Jared . . .” She gripped his wrist and pressed his hand against her.

  He gave her what she wanted, playing, rubbing, taking her all the way to the peak, then backing off, until Mac couldn’t even say his name amid the throaty pleas for release.

  He gave it to her, surging back in, matching her rhythm, taking them both to that peak. And just before he allowed them to hurtle over it, he had one last coherent thought.

  Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

  * * *

  A little while later, Mac felt the ends of her hair tickling her cheek.

  “You know, Mac, you really were overly focused on the card game. Almost gave me a complex.”

  Mac wisely kept her eyes and her mouth shut. He was fishing for compliments, but crying out his name a dozen times was all the ego boost she was going to give him. She still couldn’t believe that she’d done that. That they’d done that. This. Now. Here.

  “I know you’re awake. I can hear you thinking.”

  That got a smile out of her.

  Jared feathered her hair along her nose. “Cat got your tongue, Princess?”

  Her eyes flew open. “The kittens! What time is it? How long were they—?”

  “Relax. I took care of them while you were sleeping.”

  “I fell asleep?”

  The Cheshire cat couldn’t out-grin him. “Why yes you did. Quite soundly, too. Even snored a little.”

  “I don’t snore.”

  “Hate to tell you, Princess, but, you do. It’s cute, though.”

  “That’s not very gentlemanly of you to point out.” She crossed her arms—which pushed her boobs up.

  Jared’s gaze left her face. “I’m not feeling very gentlemanly at the moment.”

  “What are you feeling, Jared?” She licked her lips for good measure.

  “You.”

  That answer was worthy of another ego boost.

  Or three . . .

  But Mac made sure not to fall asleep this time. She didn’t want to miss a single moment of spooning with Jared after making love again.

  And, yes, she’d been making love to him.

  He hadn’t said the words—she hadn’t either, thank God. But she’d felt them.

  “You’re thinking again.” Jared brushed a strand of her hair off her cheek and even that could elicit tingles.

  “How are your ribs?” She rolled in his arms, then propped her head up on her palm and tucked the other under her breasts, knowing full well that’d catch his attention. Now that they were on even footing here, she liked to have the upper hand. So to speak.

  “My what?” Jared looked up from where he’d been looking.

  “Your ribs. You know these?” She stroked them, stopping when he sucked in a harsh breath.

  “Do that again, Mac.”

  Ah. A harsh breath of arousal.

  She did as he asked, then slid her hand over his hip and rubbed her palm along that line by his waist. There was something about this part of a man’s body that did it for her.

  “You better get another condom handy, woman, because I think you’ve found an erogenous zone I didn’t know I had.”

  It did something for him, too, apparently.

  She rubbed him there again.

  “That’s it. Consider yourself warned.”

  “Forewarned is forearmed.” She held up another condom that’d been under her waist. “Bring it on, Nolan.”

  And oh how he did.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  MAC was sore in places she didn’t know she had come Monday morning.

  And very satisfied in others she knew she did.

  She and Jared had spent the entire weekend together and most of it in bed. But not all. They’d found time to take a drive in Bryan’s Maserati now that Jared didn’t need the brace, and they’d done some window shopping in the village antique shops for nothing in particular, ending Saturday at a local pub with a band. Sunday had been a picnic in the park by the river with Chinese takeout. They’d laughed, they’d held hands, they’d kissed . . . and they’d made love.

  Mac was falling deeper in love with Jared and she’d decided to just go with it. If it ended badly, at least she’d have these moments. And if it didn’t end, well, then she’d have Jared.

  “It’s really loud in here.” Jared walked back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and water droplets all over his chest.

  She wanted to lick them off. “What are you talking about? It’s deathly quiet in here.”

  “Nuh uh. You’re thinking again.”

  She sat up. “No I wasn’t.”

  “Yes you were. And it was something heavy. You always get a little V right here,” he pointed to the spot between his eyebrows, “when you’re thinking big thoughts.”

  “Oh really? Now you’re hearing the difference between big thoughts and little thoughts, Superman? What is a little thought anyway?”

  “Little thoughts are what you’re going to wear for the day, which shoe to put on first, when should you go to the bank. Big thoughts are life questions, like will he want to make love this morning or this evening? That sort of thing.” He whipped off the towel. “The answer, by the way, is both.”

  “I can see that.” She tossed a pillow at his groin. “You’re incorrigible, Nolan.”

  “But you love me anyway.”

  Now it was deadly quiet.

  Mac plopped back against the headboard.

  “Uh, I mean . . . That’s just a figure of speech, Mac. “

  She stood and tugged the sheet off the bed, holding it in front of her, his joke making her feel too exposed. She pasted the perfect smile on her face and pretended he hadn’t touched a nerve. “Oh I know, Jared. I get it.” Sh
e wrapped the towel around her back. “My turn in the shower. I hope you left me some hot water. Be back in a few.”

  Jared could only watch her go, his idiocy robbing him of speech.

  Oh, man. She loved him. Of course she did. She had for so long he’d be an idiot not to recognize the signs—and he was through being an idiot. Well, after this latest faux pas.

  He had to tell her he loved her, but not like this. Not to cover up some flippant comment he shouldn’t have made, in his grandmother’s home with both of them in a towel or a sheet. When he told Mac that he loved her, it had to be a moment. Mac deserved nothing less after putting up with so much over the years.

  He’d been thinking of a way to do it all weekend. Well, when he’d been able to think. Which hadn’t been often. The few times they hadn’t been in bed being incoherent together, they’d been doing other things: talking, sightseeing, enjoying each other’s company, eating. The timing and the moment hadn’t been right.

  And now, today, they were spending it with Liam and Sean and a few other people at the estate Sean was cleaning, helping the owner do something . . . He couldn’t remember what they were going to be doing, but it was one more reason he couldn’t tell her. You didn’t just tell a woman you loved her on the fly, then hang out with other people for eight hours.

  He sighed and picked up the pillow. He’d come up with something; Mac was too important not to.

  And because she meant so much to him, he’d figured out the perfect way to get Camille and her boy toy out of his place, and there was no time like the present to put his plan into action. He didn’t want Lee finding out that he hadn’t exactly followed the rules where Mac was concerned.

  He glanced at the clock, then threw on a pair of shorts. He was about to open the bathroom door to tell Mac he was going out when he thought better of it. If he went in there, they’d end up being late and he’d have to scrap the plan for another day. And he didn’t really think she’d appreciate hearing about Camille after last night.

  Instead, he scrawled a note on the back of his Sports Illustrated. “Had to run out. Will meet you at the estate. –Jared”

  He’d almost written “love,” but words that important ought to be said in person.

  * * *

  JARED glanced down the street in front of his condo building before he got out of his truck, feeling like a thief. Which was ridiculous. Camille was the one who’d been stealing from him. His trust, his heart, his career, now his goddamned house. A guy had his limits.

  He shoved the crutch under his left arm and hiked the box under his right.

  “Meow.” Larry nudged his nose through the opening where the cardboard flaps crisscrossed.

  Jared poked him back in. “Today’s the day you learn to meow? You couldn’t wait twenty-four hours? I don’t want her to hear you before you do what you need to do.”

  “Hey, Preston.” He nodded at the doorman. Preston had been here forever. Knew all the tenants. And all the tenants’ secrets. “When Camille goes berserk, can you round these little guys up for me? There are four of them. Oh, and give this guy a call.” He slipped Preston the locksmith’s card and a grand in hundreds. Cheaper than paying his lawyer and more effective.

  Preston peeked in the box. “This ought to be interesting.”

  “Too bad I won’t be here to witness it.”

  “I’ll throw in some pictures free of charge.”

  “You’re a prince, Preston.”

  “And you, Mr. Nolan, are the devil. She calls you that often enough.”

  Camille would be calling him a hell of a lot worse once he let these guys loose in the condo. Her allergies were bad enough that one cat ought to do her in; four would make the place uninhabitable. He wasn’t able to bring a litter box, but Lee was right; new carpets would be worth the cost of getting her out.

  Jared smiled and headed toward the elevator, very glad Mac had insisted he keep the kittens. “See ya, Preston. Gotta go live up to my reputation.”

  * * *

  SO where’d you go?” Mac asked him when he arrived at the estate just as she was getting out of her truck.

  “Had to run an errand.”

  “Did it involve the kittens? Are they okay? They weren’t in the play yard.”

  “They’re fine. Since we weren’t going to be home, I thought they might enjoy a change of scenery.” It was risky turning them loose, but Preston would be on it. Camille wouldn’t be home until after dinner—her Monday nights out with her girlfriends had shown up on his credit cards regularly back when she’d had access to them—so there’d be complete pandemonium when she walked in to face enough cat fur that she’d barely be able to pack a bag, let alone look for the kittens.

  But he and Mac also walked into pandemonium.

  Bryan had brought some of the widow’s kids with him to the estate. What he was doing back at the widow’s house was something Jared wanted to find out, but not now. The boys were running around with lightsabers, barely avoiding the priceless antiques in this place, and there was a pack of dogs chasing them. The little girl—Maggie—was dragging her baby doll behind her and sucking her thumb, trailing after Bryan as if he were the Pied Piper.

  “Hey, guys, come on in,” said Sean, slapping him on the shoulder. “We can use all the help we can get.”

  “I should have brought my leg brace,” Jared muttered when he saw the ladders propped against the foyer walls. Someone better move them quickly or the boys were going to knock them over like very large, very destructive dominoes.

  “Come on, Jared,” Mac said, tweaking his ass as she passed him. “Either you’re going to help out or not, but you don’t get to claim invalid status when it suits you.”

  She winked at him when she glanced back.

  If she didn’t want her family to know they were on intimate terms, she better stop doing that.

  Though that’d be a damn shame. Jared was enjoying this playful side to their relationship.

  Until he caught Lee looking at him.

  Oh hell.

  “So? How’d things go?” Lee walked over.

  “Dinner was good. We had a nice time.”

  “And?”

  “And what? Are you asking me if anything happened with your sister, Lee? I thought we were trying to steer away from the weird waters.”

  “Only weird if something happened.”

  It definitely hadn’t been weird. “I put the wheels in motion to get rid of Camille.”

  Liam arched an eyebrow. “And?”

  “I’m expecting a call after dinner that it’s been handled.”

  Liam stared at him long enough that Jared had to pull on every bluffing skill he possessed. He’d played enough poker with Lee to perfect it, but he was still thankful for the dog that ran between them carrying someone’s doll.

  “Shit.” Lee took off after the thing, ending that awkward moment, thank God.

  “What’d Liam want?” Mac walked back with something in her hands.

  “What’s that?”

  “A riddle Livvy’s grandmother left. We’re supposed to be looking for something to do with generations of Martinsons. It could be anywhere in this place.” She dropped her hands. “And don’t think you’re getting out of answering that question. I presume it had to do with me.”

  “It did.”

  “So what’d you tell him?”

  “What did you want me to tell him?”

  “I don’t know. What’d he want to know?”

  “He wanted to know how our dinner went.”

  “Oh. Well that’s a safe enough topic. So what’d you say?”

  “That we’d had a nice time.”

  “Oh, okay. So no biggie.”

  “Yeah, imagine if I’d told him what really happened?”

  He got the blush he’d been going for. And that smile she had
just for him.

  “Stop it, Nolan. We’re in a family zone today. No innuendo.”

  “Aw, come on, Mac. You’re no fun.”

  “I’ll remind you of that later. Trust me, I can do no fun better than anyone.”

  “Big words, Princess. One kiss from me and you’ll do fun. I’ll make sure you do fun.”

  He kept the smile off his face as he walked away because Sean was watching. But he was smiling on the inside because he’d seen the flash of desire in her eyes.

  Oh yeah, later was going to be a lot of fun.

  The next eight hours, however . . . Not so much. Preston hadn’t called and Sean took the last oil painting in the hallway off the wall. Jared groaned. “More?”

  “Come on, wimp.” Sean handed him the painting. “We’re almost halfway done.”

  “Halfway?” Mac groaned this time. “You mean there are more? How many generations are we talking?”

  Sean pointed down another hallway. “The Martinsons loved to show off every member of their family.”

  Jared would love to throw in the towel, but he sucked it up and got to work. The quicker they got through this, the quicker he and Mac could go home. And the quicker he could tell her what he’d almost blurted out too many times today.

  Seeing Camille’s things in his home earlier had gotten to him. To hell with making a moment; the moment would be when he told Mac. He wasn’t going to waste one more day without her knowing what she meant to him so they could start their life together.

  And he wanted a life with her.

  He checked his phone again. Nothing from Preston. He tapped Mac on the arm. “Buck up, buttercup. It’ll be over soon.” So many things, and he smiled just thinking about the moment he would tell her. Not only did he like the fact that he was in love with her, but he liked that he could make her dreams come true.

  “I prefer daisies, and I’d just rather go period,” she muttered, hauling herself off the eighteenth-century bench some ancestor had parked in the middle of the long hallway and ran her hands over the back of the portrait looking for God-knew-what. This would be so much easier if they at least had a clue what the clue looked like.