My Way Back to You (Harlequin Large Print Super Romance)

by Pamela Hearon

  His own body was sending messages of its own, his erection so rigid now the condom might not be able to withstand the pressure much longer.

  He eased his tip into her slowly, but she was having none of that. She rose on her elbows and shifted her body in his direction, enveloping him completely in her tightness. Her legs gripped him, pulling him deeper as she danced beneath him, making small circles with her hips as she thrust. She set an excruciatingly appealing rhythm that tore him between wanting to finish and wanting this to go on all night. Fast. Slow. Harder, softer. To the edge and back, over and over.

  The feel of Mags and the taste of her on his lips. Their eyes locked. The musky scent of their mingled heat. The bed pounded the wall, percussion backup to their gasps, moans, grunts and pants. The heightened sensory experience was sending Jeff into space—a vacuum where there was no gravity and no time.

  Only him and Mags.

  Her hands flew over her head to grasp the spindles of the headboard, and he felt her back drawing into an arch as she cried out.

  He let go then as his body exploded and imploded at the same time. He wasn’t aware he’d shouted until recognition hit that it was his voice ringing in his ears. Mags still held her head and neck in a stiff arch, and he could feel her muscles clenching him in their spasms. He pushed tighter against her, wringing every drip of pleasure for her he could.

  Her eyes were squeezed shut, her breathy panting coming in spurts from her sensuous open mouth.

  Nothing was more beautiful than a woman enjoying multiple orgasms.

  Correction—nothing was more beautiful than Mags enjoying multiple orgasms. He’d never been with another woman who’d had them.

  He watched the tension leave her body, mesmerized by the sight. Slowly, her head and neck relaxed, her mouth closed and her eyes fluttered open as if she’d been in a trance. He saw her eyes draw into focus and the languid, sexy smile form on her lips. “Mmm.” Her eyes closed and opened in a dreamy blink.

  Jeff relaxed, too, lowering himself to the bed, on his side but still snuggled against her. He pinned her right arm under him where it had slid onto the pillow and propped his head on his hand so he still had a good view of Mags’s face. He traced her features with the tip of his finger. “God, you were good.” He kissed the end of her nose, then her mouth.

  Her smile widened, but her eyebrows furrowed slightly and she groaned. “Four years was too long to go without that.”

  Jeff shifted to let her move her arm, then slid down to rest his head on the pillow, drawing her against him.

  He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then let his cheek rest on the spot.

  “Sixteen years was too long to go without that,” he whispered.

  * * *

  JEFF’S WORDS CROUCHED in the front of Maggie’s mind, ready to pounce as soon as she came fully awake.

  Of course, she’d heard him when he spoke them, and her heart palpitated, trying to conjure a reaction. But her body was so mellow after the amazing release she couldn’t get worked up about it. Sleep came quickly, hard and deep—mimicking what she’d experienced with him.

  But morning broke through the parted drapes, bringing her to full consciousness, and her heart twisted in her chest as soon as she opened her eyes.

  What did he mean, sixteen years was too long to wait?

  Surely, he wasn’t having second thoughts about the divorce.

  Oh, good Lord, what had she done?

  The two of them still lay as they had fallen asleep. Sometime during the night, she’d turned more toward him, and now his dark chest hair tickled her nose. His free arm draped across her, hand resting at the small of her back.

  Mmm—it all felt so good.

  Too good.

  Memories of what Jeff had done—and what she’d done in return—swirled through her emotions, mixing them into a strange morning brew.

  She moved to sit up, but the arm that rested across her tightened.

  “Where you going?” He pulled her tighter against him and she became aware of the erection pressing on the upper thigh that she had wedged between his.

  She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost nine. Time to get up.”

  “I’m already up.”

  She heard the grin in his voice. “So I noticed. You always were a morning person.” She wiggled her leg only the slightest but felt his immediate response. His grunt of approval made her grin, too.

  “And you were always an anytime person.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair, his warm breath warming her all over.

  He was right. She had always been ready for him—anytime, anyplace. Things had been different with Zeke. Once, sometimes twice a week. She’d accepted the decline in her libido as part of the normal aging process. That theory didn’t seem to hold up, though, as she was already feeling vibes from simply waking in her ex’s arms.

  “Do you have anything pressing today?” He humped her leg playfully, emphasizing his word choice.

  She chuckled at his movements, but then sobered. “Only the long drive home.” She sighed. “And starting the process of getting used to being alone in the house for longer than two months.”

  His hand caressed her rear, fingers dipping low enough to elicit a guttural sound from her. “See there. Nothing that can’t be put off for a little while—or until they run us out of here at checkout.”

  He was spot-on. She had nothing she needed to get home to. But what would another round of sex with Jeff do to her emotionally? Send her into that battle again—the one she’d fought so long to win?

  No. This time his leaving wouldn’t be a surprise. It was inevitable. She was forewarned and prepared.

  And the time to think about the emotional impact of sex with Jeff had passed, barely heeded, hours ago. What difference would one more time make?

  Or two?

  “You’re right.” She withdrew her leg long enough to sling it across his and roll on top of him to a seated position. The sheet fell away, and the morning sunshine dispelled any chance of hiding under the cloak of darkness. But she didn’t care. She was who she was. And the way his eyes devoured her at that moment made her think who she was was pretty darn hot.

  And so was he.

  Despite his look of pleasure and surprise, sleep still lay heavy in his eyes and a thick growth of black stubble coated his lower jaw and mouth area. She well remembered the beard burn she used to get from their morning trysts.

  So worth it.

  She brushed the tousled hair off his forehead and patted his bristly cheek, which did indeed scratch when he turned to kiss her palm. “No use of the mouth until you shave,” she instructed.

  He sat up, locking his hands behind her back. “Oh, really?” Using his tongue, he teased the tender area along the line of her jawbone.

  A delightful shiver coursed through her. “So not fair.” She sighed, but leaned her head back farther.

  “How about this?” He nibbled along the same path. “Is this okay?”

  It actually was quite pleasant, since his tongue had already moistened the area. She moaned in response and dragged her long nails up his back, drawing a satisfying shiver from him. Other areas were becoming moist without any direct touch.

  He loosened his grip enough to lean her back slightly, and nipped his way to the peak of her breast.

  She arched her back, thrusting a nipple toward him to meet the sweet assault that never came.

  He stopped, and the pause lasted long enough to make her aware something was up. She straightened and found him frowning at her chest. “Did I do that?”

  She followed his gaze to the red splotches marking each place where his whiskers had made contact with her fair skin. She shrugged. “No biggie.”

  “Yes, it is.” He took her firmly by the waist and tried to set her off his la
p. “Let me up, and I’ll go shave.”

  She pushed him back onto the pillow. “No way, bucko. Follow the rules and don’t use your mouth, and everything will be good.”

  His mouth quirked on one side. “Just good?”

  “Maybe just good.” She wiggled against him with her backside, lightly clawing at his chest and stomach. “Maybe worth waiting sixteen years for.”

  “Nobody should have to wait for sex this good. Just think what a happy state our world would be in if everybody could have it like this all the time. War would be a thing of the past.” He grabbed a condom package from the table and ripped into it.

  So that’s what he’d meant last night. He hadn’t been feeling any heavy remorse—only making commentary on sex in general. What a relief! Flashing a wicked grin, she took the condom and proceeded to put him through as much agony as possible as she slid the protective covering into place. Then she slid herself into place, as well.

  “Oh, baby.” With his hands on her hips, he held her firmly and raised his hips to meet her.

  The reminder that this morning would be their last time together like this made her want to slow down and make it last, but her body would have none of it. The way he filled every part of her—as no one else ever had and probably never would—gave him total control, and when he shifted into high gear, she went along for one of the greatest rides of her life.

  And this time, she cried out his name when the delicious spasms rocked her core.

  She collapsed on top of him, sweaty and gasping for air. She could feel their hearts pounding against each other, dancing to the same beat.

  A fitting closure.

  Her breathing finally righted itself, and Jeff’s arms loosened enough to allow him to trace circles on her back. His touch was so soothing and relaxing, she could have lain there all day. But they were on a bit of a time schedule, in spite of pretending otherwise.

  “I can take you to the airport if you’d like,” she said at last. “What time’s your flight?”

  “I’m not flying out until Sunday. One of the guys at the dealership is from Wisconsin, and his family owns a cabin on Lake Geneva that they rent out. I’m getting a car and driving up there to spend a few days. Play some golf.”

  “Mmm.” He’d moved one of his hands up to her hair and was brushing his fingers through it. It felt so good she couldn’t bring herself to move yet. “Sounds nice.”

  His chest rose as he took a deep breath, and when he let it out, it fluttered through the top of her hair. “Mags?” he whispered. “Come with me.”

  * * *

  HE FELT MAGGIE’S spine stiffen under his hand, then she released what he recognized as a forced laugh. “We’re exes, remember? That wouldn’t be proper.”

  “We’re consenting adults.” He glided his hand down her back to cup her fine ass. “To hell with proper.”

  She shook her head.

  He’d just had twelve hours of the most amazing sex ever, and he wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer unless it came with a better reason than being exes. Rolling to his side, he deposited her on the pillow and rose on an elbow to look her in the eye. “You’ve got to do better than that...and you’ve already told me the salon practically runs itself, so that one won’t fly, either.”

  Worry clouded her gorgeous green eyes as she heaved a conflicted sigh. “We’re being unrealistic. Playing with fire. That sort of thing.”

  “This has nothing to do with reality, Mags. It’s pure fantasy.” He watched as the worry in her eyes gave way to question. “Yes, I admit it. I’ve fantasized through the years about us having sex again.”

  The admission felt good, perhaps because it was the first time he’d allowed himself to acknowledge it openly...or maybe even more so because he saw the truth in her eyes and the uneasy smile it brought to her lips. She’d fantasized, too. “This could be our chance to have fun, Mags. We’ll be able to part company without all the drama of last time.” Her chin quivered, and he kissed her to bring her thoughts back to the present. “What do you say? Three days of golf, great sex and no drama.”

  Her finger traced the outside of his ear. “I’d considered staying up here for a day or two to visit the museums. Even mentioned the possibility to Mom and EmmyLou.”

  “Who?” He wasn’t familiar with the name.

  “EmmyLou Creighton, my best friend, and the salon’s assistant manager?”

  Jeff nodded, remembering the mentioning of the name that first night at dinner.

  “She was the first stylist I hired,” Mags went on. “It was just the two of us for several years.”

  She was actually seriously considering his offer! He pressed further and took advantage of his position by toying with her bare nipples, catching them between his fingers and bringing them to hardened peaks. “See there. Your subconscious was making plans to set this up before I even mentioned it.”

  That brokered no verbal response, but she looked miserable and still conflicted. A pang of guilt ran through him. “I’m sorry, Mags. I shouldn’t be pressing you to do something you’re not comfortable with.” He sat up, shifting his weight away from her, preparing to make a friendly, unemotional exit and get the hell out of Dodge.

  Her hand caught his arm. “Stepping out of my comfort zone might be good for me.”

  “You want to do it?” This had to be her decision—he wasn’t about to talk her into anything she’d regret later. He’d already had to live with that guilt far too long.

  She nodded and a spark of excitement glinted from her eyes as she sat up. “It may be crazy, but I haven’t done anything crazy in a really long time.”

  “Me, neither.”

  Not since letting you go. Whoa! He hadn’t spoken that aloud, had he?

  Jeff took a couple of deep breaths to slow his racing heart. Where in the hell had that thought come from? This little excursion was a fun trip, and he wouldn’t think of it as anything more.

  “I do insist on one rule, though.” Maggie’s eyes were stern, but her grin gave her away. “No more using the mouth until you shave.” She cupped his cheeks with both hands and wiggled his head playfully.

  He grabbed her hands and held them tightly in his lap, forcing her face close to his. “Oh, really?” He flicked his tongue along the base of her jawline and up around the back of her ear.

  “So unfair,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I’M TELLING YOU, Eli...something’s up.”

  Baxter Hill seemed especially steep this evening. Maybe it was the fried catfish, hushpuppies and French fries she’d fixed for dinner that felt so heavy in the pit of Rosemary’s stomach. Or maybe it was something completely different—like the nagging feeling her daughter was lying to her about staying in Chicago to sightsee.

  “You...don’t think...it’s the son of a bitch, do you?” Eli’s heavy breathing caused his words to come out in spurts.

  She’d tried to slow their pace several times on tonight’s walk, but her stubborn-ass husband seemed bent on making it home in record time. “My gut feeling is, yeah, he’s involved. Probably just being around him for three days threw her into a funk. She might’ve needed to stay up there as a distraction until she could get her wits about her again.”

  “Maybe she’s...not wanting to...leave Russ.”

  “That’s possible. But, if that’s what’s going on, I hope she doesn’t let him know she’s still there. That’d only make things harder for both of them.” Rosemary didn’t really believe Maggie would stay in Chicago because of Russ. Time after time, Maggie had talked about how it was best to not let him know how much it was going to hurt her, leaving him so far away. She was resolved, and once she set her mind to it, Maggie always followed through.

  Letting go of Jeff had been the exception.

  So maybe it was simply that bei
ng around him shook enough of those old feelings loose that Maggie needed a big-city distraction rather than an empty house where she was more likely to dwell on it.

  Rosemary prayed that was the reason, anyway.

  They reached the top of the hill and turned around to head back down. Eli’s face looked like it had been rubbed with beet juice. “Good Lord, are you sure you’re okay?”

  He gave her a hard glare and started down without breaking his stride, not saying anything more until they reached the bottom. “She’s been busy with Russ and probably hasn’t had time to see the city,” he said when he’d caught his breath, his words no longer clumping.

  “She does enjoy museums,” Rosemary conceded as they turned onto their front sidewalk. “I’m probably reading too much into it.”

  Reaching the porch a couple of strides ahead of her, Eli plopped down on the steps. He pulled off his cap and ran a hand through his hair, sending drops of sweat flying in all directions. The look he gave her stopped her in midsit. “Rosie, I think I might have a problem.”

  Rosemary’s knees stiffened, lifting her back to fully standing. “What is it?”

  “I get pressure in my chest when I go uphill.” He pressed a flat palm against his heart. “But not down.”

  A cold chill gripped Rosemary despite the heat surrounding her. “When did this start?”

  “First felt it last week when I lifted Mabel’s casket. Pain. Right here.” He patted his heart. “I figured I’d pulled a muscle. But I feel it every time I exert.”

  Things began to fall into place. “So you were doing the jumping jacks...”

  He nodded sheepishly. “To test my theory.”

  “I knew something was wrong.” Rosemary thrust her finger at his face and shook out her frustration. “How many times this week have I asked you if you were okay?”

  Eli grabbed her finger and stilled it. “And now I’m admitting I don’t know if I am. I think I need to go to the hospital and find out.”

  Eli was suggesting the hospital? He’d never done that in all the years she’d known him. The seriousness of the situation sank in. “Oh!” She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, trying to hold back her distress. She swallowed, and it lodged in her throat, making the muscles constrict and ache, causing tears to well up in her eyes.