Secrets and Lies (16 page)

She missed having family. Her father wasn’t close to his parents. His mother had killed herself when he was sixteen, and his father had retreated into a shell of disdain for anything that reminded him of his now dead wife. Thena’s father had told her, only once, of the pain he had faced. It was his way of explaining to her why he struggled everyday to go on after her mother went missing.

His mother had been raped, became pregnant and after deciding not to have an abortion she had the baby. She couldn’t even look at it without remembering what happened to her, so she and his dad had decided giving it away was best. It had been several years before he found out that
it
, as his parents referred to the baby as, was a girl.

His mother sunk deeper into her depression, remembering what happened to her, remembering the baby she had given birth to. He heard her say once that it wasn’t right to bring such evil into this world. He couldn’t understand that. The baby was a part of her, but he realized at the time that maybe his mother was thinking of the evil that her daughter had been conceived through. She blamed herself for everything, and instead of getting help, she listened to her husband, the man who was supposed to love her unconditionally, when he told her they didn’t go around telling people about their problems. A year later she killed herself. Her suicide note spoke of the baby, of her guilt for brining such evil into the world and the fact that she didn’t want to live to see what would become of her one day. He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, her thinking. He had said if only she had talked to somebody, got help and realized it wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t the baby’s fault, that maybe things would be different. He had blamed his father for his mother’s death and when he turned eighteen he left home and never looked back. He left San Francisco for Boston, and vowed to never return.

Her father never again spoke of the past, of his family, of any of them. She never asked him to because it clearly caused him immeasurable pain. She wouldn’t do that to her dad. Even now, after all these years, she didn’t even want to know the man who had hurt her father so much that he would flee his home.

The doorbell ringing pulled her out of her cage of memories. It had to be Thomas. She looked at the clock; it was close enough to eight so it could be Thomas. She hurried down the hall to the front door without turning on too many lights as she went. The porch light was already on so she checked the peephole first, just to be sure it was indeed Thomas, before disarming the alarm and letting him inside.

“How was the rest of your day?”

“Miserable,” he admitted.

“Uh, oh. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he kicked the door shut and turned the latch. “I’ve been like stone all afternoon,” he pulled her flush against his body.

She smiled. “I see. Well, maybe after dinner we can do something about that. I just have to warm it in the oven.” She hadn’t actually started warming dinner because she was distracted, and really hadn’t thought about food since she got home. She pulled out of his embrace and turned to head toward the kitchen.

“I’m not hungry,” he grabbed her arm, spinning her into him and then walking her back toward the wall. “Not for food anyway.” He untied the belt that held her nightgown closed, letting his hand rub against her bare, smooth skin. He tossed the brown paper bag housing a box of condoms onto the floor. Then he pushed her satin nightgown off her shoulders, letting it pool around her ankles. She was beautiful, every inch of her.

He lifted her, effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He heard the
thud, thud
sound of her shoes hitting the floor. “Aren’t we going to need that?” She pointed to the bag on the floor. He grinned and pulled one wrapped condom from his pocket. “I came prepared,” he said before his lips commenced their attack on her body. He sucked, licked, caressed and kissed, building her to a feverish need.

He tasted her mouth, her shoulders, her breasts; letting his tongue seduce her, prepare her for what he could no longer wait for. He deftly released the button and unzipped the zipper on his pants before pushing the fabric, followed by his underwear, over his waist. He didn’t bother to step out of the mess of clothes; that would take too much time and right now time was not something he could waste. With jerky movements he dressed himself with the latex before looking into her eyes. “I can’t wait,” he groaned.

“You don’t have to,” she whispered.

As if that was all the permission his body needed he positioned himself, ready, willing, able and he sunk into her, letting her body slide down his hardened member. She cried out, clinging to him as he thrust in and out of her, easing her up and letting her drop back down on his body, impaling her with the width and length of him.

He had wanted this, wanted her. Her breathy moans pushed him over the edge, making him thrust harder. He hung his head, licking her shoulder, nipping it with his teeth in between each tumultuous thrust. The slick sounds of their love making filled his ears as he pounded into her. Her moans, her breathy cries and the sound of her body thudding against the wall permeated the small corridor leading from foyer to dining room. He should have taken her to bed, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t resist his urge, his need to be inside of her.

She held him tight, her muscles squeezing around him. “Thomas,” she cried out as he thrust into her again. “Thomas, please! Yes…” she moaned, her words giving way to more of those breathy cries that he loved to hear. He lifted his head so that his eyes could watch her reach her climax, a climax he knew was near.

Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, caught on a breath as she dug her fingers into his shoulders. “Oh,” she moaned. “Yes,” another breathy cry rung out so sweetly. She was beautiful, sexy, and even more so when she came. He thrust into her with a force so powerful that she came hard and loud; her inner muscles gave a series of tight spasms on his shaft drawing out his own release.

In the aftermath he couldn’t move, didn’t want to. He buried his face against her neck, thrusting his tongue out sporadically to get a taste of the sheen of sweat that glistened on her body. This was the taste of his woman. She was sweet like candy and honey mixed, and he loved it. He didn’t think he would ever be able to get her taste out of his system, off of his tongue. She had ruined him for other women because he knew, as long as he lived, there would never be another woman who tasted as good as her, who felt as good as her.

He had just come with an explosion and already he wanted her again, felt himself building for her again. This time he would do it right, not like some animal in a rush to claim victory, to have a sexual conquest that would bond her to him and no other man, to make her his. This time he
would
make it to the bedroom.

Chapter Ten

M
aking it to the bedroom had been an Olympic challenge in and of itself. Thomas had clumsily kicked off his shoes and disentangled himself from the pile of fabric wrapped around his ankles, but he hadn’t extricated himself from her body. Instead of putting her down and letting her walk, he carried her, still locked inside of her, down the hall to the guest bedroom. The guest bedroom was definitely closer than her bedroom, which was a good thing because he was still hard and each sway of his body slowly built her toward another climax. When he placed her on the bed, his erection pushed just a little deeper into her and she cried out in ecstasy. He felt so good, so wonderfully, blissfully good that her body couldn’t resist giving its own form of thanks, by way of another earth tilting orgasm.

She was in trouble. She was in so much trouble. This man wasn’t somebody she could just work out of her system. This man was dangerous to a woman’s single lifestyle. He was dangerous to her heart. If he woke up tomorrow and decided he’d had enough, her body and her heart would morn the loss.

No man had ever taken her so completely, claimed her body so fiercely that she couldn’t imagine ever being with another man—but he had. Thomas McGregor had staked his claim and no other man would ever do.

He pulled out of her and untangled himself from her arms that were snuggly wrapped around his shoulders. She moaned a protest as she opened her eyes to see where he was going.

“Oh,” she smiled watching him carefully remove the condom. He disappeared into the connected bathroom for a few seconds and then he was back by her side. He leaned on one elbow, leaning over her and staring at her body. One calloused hand slid down her belly and found a comfortable resting spot between her legs. “Hmmm…” she moaned as she closed her legs tight, trapping his hand against her thighs and stopping his assault on her already sensitive flesh.

He laughed. “You think that will stop me?” He grinned devilishly. No she didn’t think that would stop him; it hadn’t stopped him.

He tugged his hand free and brushed his fingers up the side of her belly. She giggled, so he did it again.

“Stop that,” she laughed.

“Ticklish,” he grinned before letting his hands roam her body. She laughed and wiggled and cried out as he continued to tickle her everywhere.

“Stop, stop,” she said through broken breaths as she laughed heartedly. Her breasts swayed as she tossed and turned to try to get away from his playing hands.

When he stopped to let her take a breath she pushed him onto his back and held his wrists at either side of his head as she straddled his body.

“You are impossible,” she said breathlessly.

He groaned with male satisfaction and approval as he looked at the small breasts hovering just above him. “I love your breasts,” he mumbled hotly as he looked into her eyes.

“They’re so small,” she said. How could he be that fascinated with them?

“They’re perfect,” he easily removed his wrists from her grasp as he leaned up onto his elbows, bringing his mouth closer to the objects of their current conversation. He reached one hand out and let it close over her left breast. The contrast of big to small, rough to smooth was arousing. His finger stroked her areole, squeezing and pinching her puckered nipple, making it harder, tighter, more sensitive. “Thomas,” she moaned. “What are you doing to me?” He was claiming every part of her body as his, making sure she knew no other man would ever bring her body this kind of pleasure.

“Let’s see how perfectly they fit with my mouth.” He leaned in and placed his mouth to her breast, sucking and licking and stroking with his tongue. He closed his mouth over her breast once more and let his mouth caress her tenderly, as if making love to her breast with his mouth, his tongue. She threw her head back on a low, sultry moan, her soft curls cascading down her back.

He lifted his eyes to watch her before pulling back. “The right one fits perfectly,” he grinned as he looked into her eyes. “Let’s see about the left.”  And he did just that, giving the same love and sensuous attention to her left breast just as he had the right one. “Oh yeah, that one’s perfect too.” He gently grazed his teeth over her nipple.

She pushed him back down onto the bed, securing his wrists to their previous position. She knew at any moment he could extract himself from her hold if he really wanted to. She knew he was letting her play, letting her have the upper hand. She looked deep into his eyes. “You naughty, man.” She moved her breasts closer to his mouth and he eased up to close his lips over her left breasts. She could feel the muscles in his stomach working with the effort the position required to hold, but his mouth kept sucking, as if the burn she knew had to be growing in his stomach muscles didn’t bother him at all.

He pulled back. “You’re delicious woman—everywhere.” He thrust his tongue out once again. She pulled back.

“Stop that. You’re not going to continue to entice me. I have to make you pay for tickling me.” She pulled back farther when he tried to reach up and suck a breast again. He groaned and she laughed. I am not without my wiles.”

“I can see that.”

She pushed back, wiggling her behind against his growing erection and he moaned in agony.

“You left the condoms under that pile of clothes in the hall.”  She heard a slight creak. “What was that?”

“Old house, Thena.”

She knew her house, and she knew most of the creaks, but she didn’t know that one.

He expertly removed his wrists and tossed her onto the bed, leaving one muscular leg between her spread thighs. “I’ll go check it out.” He moved his leg, rubbing against her sex and eliciting a slow groan from her. “Then I’ll be back for more of this,” he stroked one finger over her areole.

“Don’t forget to bring the condoms back.” If he crawled into bed without them neither one of them would have enough control, once he got started, to stop and go down the hall to get them. “Oh, and set the alarm; I forgot to do it.”

“I’ll get on top of that,” he grinned. “And then I’ll get on top of you.”

The image his words conjured up had heat pooling between her legs. She could just imagine his big body on top of her, molding her to the bed beneath her as he slid so deep inside of her that she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. Forget dangerous; the man was lethal. She wondered how any woman had gone to bed with Thomas McGregor and walked away unscathed.