by Addison Fox
“Because Mayson was wearing a blue dress the first time I saw her.”
Proudly, Annette reached for the painting and turned toward Holt. “Then you need to have it.”
“I can’t take your painting.”
“I want you to.”
She held it out until Holt reached for it. He grasped the wooden edges of the canvas with both hands. “I know just where I’m going to hang this.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss against Annette’s cheek. “Thank you.”
A light giggle erupted from the girl’s lips as she pressed her hand to her cheek. “Do I get another kiss if I give you another painting?”
Mayson reached forward and pulled the girl into a tight hug. “I think we need to teach you some more subtle flirting techniques.”
“I thought a girl needed to ask for what she wanted.” Annette leaned back and put her hands on her hips once again. “Isn’t that what you’re always saying?”
Holt shot her a sideways glance. “Is that what you’re always saying?”
Mayson couldn’t hold back the quick smile as she pulled Annette into another hug, this time from the side. “How is it you listened to that lesson and not the others I’ve tried to pass on?”
“Because I don’t want to eat my vegetables, and it’s boring to get all my homework done every night.”
Holt leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the other cheek. “Well, who can argue with that?”
…
Although they were only about forty miles from Manhattan, the small, upstate town that Hands, Hearts and Hugs called home didn’t boast a lot of dining establishments. They’d found a small diner on the way to their hotel, and Holt had figured it was their best bet.
He laid down his menu. “You were really good with the kids.”
“Right back at you. They loved you. And I think Annette has a little crush.”
He took a moment to weigh his words, before simply opting to say what was on his mind. “They weren’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Children who didn’t have any hope.”
Her curiosity was evident in the tilt of her head. “And what do you think now?”
“I think the time you spend up here must refresh your soul and renew your belief in the goodness of others.”
“That’s rather poetic.”
“It’s not poetic if it’s true.”
She laid a hand over his and the warmth that simply defined her zinged up his arm at the contact. “Can’t it be both?”
“Mayson—” Her name caught in his throat as they stared at each other across the old, scarred Formica table. The need for her—at times so blindingly urgent he could barely take a breath—rose up to swamp him. How had she become so necessary? And in such a short period of time.
“What is it?”
“It’s not just for the business deal. And it’s not just about my mother.”
Understanding dawned deep in her eyes. “What’s it about, then?”
“Us. It’s about us.”
Long moments stretched out between them, an ocean of calm and quiet amidst the noise of the diner.
…
Mayson stepped into the hotel lobby, her hand linked with Holt’s. The need to touch him was constant, a living, breathing fire under her skin.
Us. It’s about us.
His words played on a loop in her mind, over and over again like a lullaby.
She’d seen a new side to him today. His gentleness with the horses, and his innate kindness to the children, Annette especially. He’d given her a special gift—the gift of his attention and his respect—and another piece of her heart had crumbled.
In that moment, when Holt had stood admiring Annette’s paintings, she caught a glimpse of the father he’d be. While the two of them might need work, if she had any concerns about his ability to parent, they had vanished in that moment.
“Here you go, Ms. McBride.” She’d volunteered to book the room since she stayed in town so frequently, and had suspected Holt would be all right with the arrangements she’d planned. Even with the expectation he’d be fine with it, she still didn’t miss the subtle widening of his eyes as the desk manager handed her one set of room keys.
Holt came to a stop before their assigned room, shifting his overnight bag to deal with the lock. “You’re sure this is okay?”
“More than okay. You?”
“No, Mayson.” With a broad smile, he pushed one foot against the door to prop it open before leaning back and pressing a quick kiss to her mouth. “I’d rather sleep down the hall.”
Lifting up onto tiptoes, she nipped a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “You’re such a stickler for propriety.”
Strong arms came around her as he dragged them both into the room. “That’s me.”
His lips came down on hers and all the pent up need and longing from the last few weeks came crashing through both of them with the strength of gale-force winds. Mayson did the only thing she could think of, the only thing that felt right: she clung to him and held on.
Heavy knots of lust tightened her muscles, pushing her body on as each of them shed the items they carried. His overnight bag fell to the floor near their feet with a heavy thud, and her small suitcase lay on its side, fallen where they’d both knocked against it.
As they moved further inside, mouths fused and hands roaming, their clothing fell in piles, like a trail of breadcrumbs toward the bedroom. When Holt finally came down on top of her on the bed, his heavy weight a lush reward for the journey, Mayson could only giggle. “That was a pretty impressive feat, Mr. Turner. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten out of my clothes that fast.”
“It’s a rare skill.”
“And a dangerous one.” She shifted her hand between their bodies, her fingers closing over the hard length of him.
His eyes glittered in the dim light of the room. “You’re a temptress.”
“With you.” She pressed her lips to his, trying to say with her body where words failed her. “Only with you.”
When he responded, his mouth a carnal feast on hers and his body pressed intimately against her, Mayson knew the words she spoke were truth. There was something about this man. He was the only one who’d ever made her feel this way. The only one who had ever made her lose control, even as she discovered herself.
She’d never been one to consider her world ordered, like Camryn, or full of pure ambition, like Keira. Instead, she’d drifted, like a ship at sea. There’d been some destination in mind—some endpoint—but she’d let life’s waves carry her along. Until Holt. He’d climbed aboard and taken the reins, and she knew she would never been the same.
“Make love to me.” The words floated from her lips, lazy yet strong.
Demanding.
The desire that drove both of them ratcheted up once more as the moment changed, grew more urgent.
He reached for her hand, stilled it with his own, then shifted so he could move down her body, his mouth flying over her with the intent to possess. Hot, liquid kisses branded her throat before scorching a path to her breasts. The same heat turned liquid between her thighs as his mouth closed over one nipple, his fingers plying the hard peak of the other.
The sly curl of need that rode low in the belly punched up and became greedy, her legs writhing against his body as the sensations became more urgent. And as the pleasure built, now familiar yet so deeply exciting, she slid underneath him, memories of the previous week still fresh in her mind. He’d played the hunter long enough.
It was time to turn the tables.
…
Holt felt himself drowning in the glorious woman beneath him. Her lush curves and long, artful limbs were a feast for the senses, and he intended to savor every morsel. He sensed the shift in her body, and reacted by pressing lightly with his weight to keep her moaning beneath him, before she slid craftily over him.
“My turn.” The whispered words were like an accelerant to flame, especially when
matched with the movements of her body as she quickly straddled him. The light weight of her, pressed intimately over his hips, pushed his already aroused body another step toward the edge. When he reached up to cup her full breasts in his hands, her eyes grew darker, their depths so deep and rich he could drown in them.
Her delicate fingers gripped the hard length of his penis once more while her long hair fell against his torso, the thick strands tickling the muscles of his stomach. The warm, giving woman in his arms teased and tantalized, tortured and tormented. And she was his.
“Mayson.”
Before he could utter anything else, her mouth closed over him and he was lost. Heat, so much heat, consumed him. It battled with the intense pleasure that radiated from the core of his body, tightening his muscles and pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
He knew he was spellbound as she continued to work his flesh with her tongue. She managed his physical cues, movements he wasn’t even conscious of making, and adjusted so that each stroke of her tongue pushed him harder, drew him further on toward that place where nothing existed but the magic between the two of them.
“Mayson—” Her name ripped from his throat as he caught himself, nearly over the edge and well on his way to taking the moment. He dragged at her slender shoulder, tugging her toward his chest. “Together. We’ll go together.”
A wanton smile spread across her mouth, but she said nothing as she continued to weave her magic. With deft movements, she straddled his hips, taking him deep into her body. He was nearly blinded by the pleasure, but still forced himself to watch her, to keep his gaze on her face so he could look at her as she took her pleasure.
Movements generous, she lifted her body over him before coming back down, the sinuous flow of motion igniting another shockwave within him. He gripped her hips, desperate to manage the pace—desperate to gain some of the control he’d lost to her generous ministrations. He reminded himself to hold on as she rode him through another hard crest of pleasure, tried to tell himself to make the moment last, but as his gaze caught on hers, Holt saw the haze of her own pleasure reflected there.
And in that moment he was lost.
Chapter Nine
Mayson cuddled in Holt’s arms, satisfaction warming her body in easy relaxation. Had she ever felt anything like what was between them?
His arms tightened around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest as his breathing evened out, and she knew she’d never been anywhere close to what was between them. Had never known anything like this.
“I can hear you thinking.” Holt tickled her ribs lightly before opening his eyes on a smile. “How can you be thinking at all? I think I lost every last brain cell I possessed.”
“I guess that means I started with more.”
“Cheeky.”
She hesitated for a moment, the feeling not unlike the time she went skydiving. There was that moment, just before she jumped, where she wondered what she was possibly thinking.
And then she’d leapt.
“I was thinking about your merger offer.”
“Oh?”
“I’m beginning to think the idea may have some merit.”
“Most of my ideas usually do.” The cocky grin that accompanied the comment had her sitting up and dragging the covers over her body.
“I’m serious.”
“And I’m not?”
The playfulness was a new side to him, and she marveled at it. While she was loath to end the lighthearted conversation, marriage wasn’t a simple decision. “I’ve given the idea of marriage a lot of thought. I’m open to it, but I think we need an exit clause.”
“Why?”
She laid a hand on his arm. “For both of us, Holt. I watched my mother live in an untenable situation her whole life out of some misguided sense of duty.”
“Those were her choices.”
“I know that. I do. And I know I’m not being fair. To this day I don’t know why she stayed. Why she allowed her marriage to become such a farce when her own children thought she’d be better off divorced than staying where she was. But I need to know I have an exit strategy.”
“A golden parachute?”
“Exactly. And you should want the same.”
“Don’t assume you know what I want.” His voice was low, and not for the first time she had an image of him leading a business meeting or closing a major deal. The man was lethal, and a light shiver ran down her spine.
He’d be a formidable adversary.
She fought to maintain her cool. Her outburst that morning had been satisfying in the moment, but hardly productive. If she was going to make her point, she needed to do it in a way that he understood.
In business terms.
“It’s not an assumption when it’s practical.”
“Life isn’t practical. We’re not practical.” He pulled her close, the frustration in his words translating to the hard press of his lips, as if he could impress his thoughts upon her through their bodies. As always, that steady, ever-present attraction flared to life. Wasn’t that the very definition of their relationship? The immediate attraction between them. The meeting at the wedding, followed by their reintroduction at Keira and Nathan’s party. The last few weeks, full of the odd push-pull as they tried to get on firmer ground. Steadier footing.
It would be so easy to mistake that for something deeper and simply fall in love with him.
Love?
The thought caught her off-guard and she stilled in his arms. It was only when Holt shifted, burying his head in her neck as if to keep her close, that she moved once more, settling into his arms. She couldn’t be in love with Holt Turner, couldn’t even give it room to take root in her mind.
Love wasn’t a business meeting. It wasn’t a merger. It wasn’t rational.
What she had with Holt was all of those things, not love.
It couldn’t be.
…
The lights of the George Washington Bridge came into view as Holt navigated them home down the West Side Highway. Mayson hid a yawn behind her hand, marveling at how much help he’d been at the camp.
“You made a huge difference this weekend. Thank you for going with me. And thanks for driving. This ride has seemed light-years faster since I’m not doing it by myself.”
“The charity’s got a great foundation. They’ll get through their property mess, it’s just going to take time and patience.”
“Time is the one thing they don’t have.” Mayson tugged on the back of her ponytail. “They need to be able to make room for more children.”
“It’ll happen. The owners have a good growth plan and they’ll get there.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“I thought about our conversation. About the golden parachute.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not looking for an easy out.”
“Neither am I.”
“You suggested it.”
The urge to tug on her hair gripped her once more, so she diligently folded her hands in her lap. “I suggested we be smart about where we are and why we’re making decisions. There’s a difference.”
“Smart?”
Almost of its own accord, her hand slipped to rest over her still-flat stomach. “Smart and safe.”
“I usually avoid smart and safe like the plague.”
“And look where it’s gotten both of us.”
Holt reached for her hand and she slipped hers in his larger one, clasping his fingers so their palms met. “We’ll figure it out.”
She wanted to believe him—did believe him when he claimed this was what he wanted—but what would happen when he grew tired of her? Of them once it was her and the baby? The day would come when he’d feel trapped.
It would have to. No one got off to a start like theirs and ended up not feeling like they were forced into it at some point. Because no matter how he framed up a union between the two of them, nothing changed the fact that if it weren’t for the baby, they wouldn’t
be discussing marriage at all. And no matter how she was coming to feel about him, that point didn’t sit well with her.
…
Mayson stared at the oversized fashion closet in the McBride Media building and sighed with ecstasy. “This was a great idea, Keira.”
Her sister had suggested it after they finished up their morning meetings, and it hadn’t taken either of them long to carve out some time in their schedules to make the unscheduled trip.
“Ooh. What about this one?” Keira held up a designer sheath, intricate beadwork filling the bodice before falling into a subtle train. “It’s gorgeous.”
Mayson patted her stomach. “And likely a bit too form-fitting.”
“Point taken.”
Keira busied herself with one long rack while Mayson indulged her love of shoes. “We need to come in here more often.”
“I make a weekly pilgrimage.” Her sister turned from the rack with a quick squeal of excitement. “Mayse. Come here and look at this one.”
She knew before Keira had the dress up on one of the elevated racks they used to display clothing that it was the one. “It’s beautiful.”
“And it’s going to look beautiful on you.”
In moments, she was buttoned up in the dress, the long waves of silk falling artfully away from her waist. The design was simple and elegant, reminding her of something from the twenties. Maybe it was the moment, seeing herself in white. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones that seemed to increase by the day. Maybe it was just the overwhelming sense that her life was on an out-of-control roller coaster. With flustered motions, she dragged at the sleeves. “Take it off. Get it off me, please.”
“Mayson?”
“Get it off!”
Keira made quick work of the dress, fetching a small robe for her to cover up with. After hanging the gown up once more, she took a seat on the small stool next to Mayson’s knee. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“I can’t tell you something I don’t know myself.”
“Try.”
“I’m scared.”
Keira gripped her hand. “Of course you are. Do you think that’s not normal somehow?”
“It’s the way it’s happening. All at once. Three months ago I didn’t know the man existed, and now I’m trying on wedding dresses and having his baby. It’s too much.”
