He was deliberate, as smooth and centered as he had been when he’d taken her into his arms in Boston, when he’d helped her pick basil and mint and she’d watched him chase after Buster.
When he’d pushed his way through the debris from the storm and found her and her nephews in the library attic.
He was careful of her cuts, asked her if she was okay. She knew what he meant. Her heart skipped as she looked at him in the milky light. Their clothes were already scattered. She took in the ripples of lean muscle on his chest and arms. Damn, she thought. She could have stitches and she still wouldn’t want to stop now.
She nodded. “Don’t worry.” She draped her arms over his shoulders, heard the raggedness in her voice. How was she supposed to talk when she could hardly breathe? When her body was tingling, quaking for him to touch her. She managed a smile. “No holding back.”
He responded immediately, lowering her onto the bed, easing on top of her. Every touch, every caress, every kiss made her ache with wanting him. He left no inch of her, no part of her, untouched. As tender as he was, he was hard all over. She touched him everywhere, explored his body, touching, tasting. He was so controlled, so focused...until he wasn’t.
When he sank into her, she cried out, felt him try to ease up, to slow down, but it didn’t work—and she didn’t want it to. She grabbed hold of his hips and gave herself up to him and the sensations taking over her.
“Phoebe,” he breathed. “Phoebe...”
She heard the concern in his voice even as he didn’t slacken his pace, didn’t stop. “I’m okay.” She clutched him. “I love you, Noah.”
She barely got the words out before they both lost control. She’d never experienced anything like it before. Time seemed suspended. It was as if they were the only two people in the universe. She cried out with abandon, wrapped her legs around him as he drove into her one last time.
They collapsed together. She could feel his heart racing, his skin warm under her palms. She’d dreamed of mind-blowing sex with a man she loved but had convinced herself it would never happen.
And yet here she was, with Noah.
He turned onto his side and locked his eyes with hers. After a moment, he touched the curve of one finger to her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’d never—”
“Because it doesn’t matter.” She caught her breath. “Didn’t matter.”
He kissed her softly. “I’ll be more careful next time.”
She took his hand into hers and smiled. “I hope not.”
* * *
Noah enjoyed showing Phoebe the NAK offices. She wanted to see everything and talk to everyone, and she was interested in every detail of NAK’s work. He’d already met with his executive team and set up a formal meeting to redefine his role with the company.
Things were changing, because—well, things always changed.
And because of Phoebe. He loved talking to her. He loved listening to her, and making love to her. After two days together, he was as certain as ever that they belonged together. She was kind, intelligent, courageous and so damn beautiful.
She was also still at least a little afraid of what the changes loving him meant for her.
“I thought I could predict my future,” she said as she looked out at the view from his office windows. “But then you decided to dog sit Buster.”
“I knew Olivia had an idea of who my princess was.”
“If you hadn’t stayed in Knights Bridge, my swashbuckler would have remained a mirage.” She smiled at him. “But you’re no mirage.”
He expected he’d proved that over the past two days. He winked at her. “You’ve got that right, princess.” He stood next to her, slipping an arm around her waist. “My best friend is marrying one of your best friends. We’d have found each other.”
Phoebe leaned against his arm. “I can’t wait for Olivia and Dylan’s wedding. I love a happy ending.”
Noah kissed her on the top of her head. They’d showered together that morning, and he could still smell the shampoo she’d used on her hair. “Phoebe...” For the first time since she’d arrived in San Diego, he found himself struggling for the right words. He’d had an engagement ring delivered to his house at the winery. The timing didn’t feel too soon. It felt just right. Perfect, even. Finally smiled at her. “We’ll write our own happy ending.”
Her smile reached her eyes. “We already are.”
They headed down to the lobby together. They didn’t want to keep Daphne Stewart waiting. They’d take their time driving up the coast to his winery and enjoying their stay there.
Then they’d go back to Knights Bridge.
* * * * *
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading That Night on Thistle Lane. I hope you enjoyed the story! Since I grew up in a small town on the western edge of the Quabbin Reservoir, I’m having the best time writing books set in the Swift River Valley and surrounding hills. You can find scenes and even a video on my website depicting this beautiful part of rural New England.
I’ve appreciated hearing from people with ties to the “lost” towns of Dana, Enfield, Greenwich and Prescott, all depopulated and razed to create the massive reservoir. Old roads and trails lace the protected wilderness, much of it open to the public. When I walk there, I look for cellar holes and other remnants of the people who used to live in this beautiful valley, but most of all I just enjoy the incredible scenery.
If you haven’t read Dylan and Olivia’s story yet, it’s called Secrets of the Lost Summer. It actually starts in early spring, when those of us in northern climates are eager for March to turn into a lamb.
I’m looking forward to whatever’s next for fictional Knights Bridge and the Frosts, Sloans, O’Dunns...and, of course, our guys from San Diego, Dylan McCaffrey and Noah Kendrick. It’s a lot of fun for me, and I’m so glad to have you join me!
Please visit www.carlaneggers.com for updates, links, goodies and photos, and join me on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest. And write to me anytime at [email protected]. I’d love to hear from you.
Happy reading,
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin ebook. Connect with us for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Subscribe to our newsletter: Harlequin.com/newsletters
Visit Harlequin.com
We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com
ISBN: 9781460303283
Copyright © 2013 by Carla Neggers
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
th friends
That Night on Thistle Lane Page 29
