Babycakes (26 page)
Authors: Donna Kauffman
And the next time, it was slow, and languorous, almost torturous . . . and, at the end, downright volcanic.
“Very . . . very . . . carnal,” he murmured against her thigh.
She was shaking, still gasping, even as he made her laugh. And then she was reaching for him, wanting more, but most important wanting him.
He shifted onto his knees and pulled his shirt off and over his head. Onto the pile with the wallet and her clothes it went. Smiling at each other, he playfully shifted his hands to his waistband, teasing her by unbuckling his belt excruciatingly slowly.
It was hard to believe she could go from mind-numbing climax to playful laughter, that she was sprawled open to him, vulnerable to him, and was thinking only of what would happen next.
He slid his belt free, made her eyes go wide when he snapped it once or twice, then tossed it away. “Not that I don’t think you’d look incredible in leather,” he said, making her laugh all over again. “But not under it.”
“Good to know. I like my pleasure to be . . . you know, pleasurable.”
“Me, too.” His hands went to his waistband. “How’m I doing so far?”
He was just the right amount of cocky without being arrogant, just the right amount of playful, while still taking it seriously.
She knew he was vulnerable, too, knew he understood what it was to be hurt, so it made the moments they were sharing all the more meaningful. No pretense, no posturing. But . . . she decided he shouldn’t get to call all the shots. Smiling and giving him a very pointed once-over, she sat up and put her hands over his as he undid the button of his trousers. “You got to unwrap your presents. Don’t I get to unwrap mine?”
He barked out a laugh, but lifted his hands straight up and away.
She laughed at the antics. “You’re so easy like that.”
He grinned, unrepentant. “I know.” Then he tackled her, making her squeal, before rolling to his back, carrying her with him. “Go ahead,” he flung his arms wide once she’d straddled his waist. “Have your wanton, wicked way with me.”
“Well, I’m not very wicked,” she said, running her hands down his chest. “But I am feeling particularly wanton.” She slid back and flipped open the button and hook of his trousers, then slowly tugged them down until he could kick them off. She didn’t even care where they landed.
“Black,” she said, running her fingers under the edge of his boxer briefs.
“It’s slimming,” he teased.
His grin was all the motivation she needed to stroke her hand over the very impressive bulge stretching the front panel. “Not really.”
He jerked under the touch of her hand, half groaning, half laughing. She carefully freed him, but had barely drawn the briefs over his thighs when she found herself abruptly rolled to her back as he jerked them the rest of the way off and slid on top of her.
“So unfair.” She was having a hard time not giggling.
“You got to unwrap.”
“But—”
He pressed a finger across her lips. “But if you’d gone any further, we wouldn’t have gotten to this.” He shifted between her legs and pushed slowly inside of her.
“Oh . . . ohhhh,” she said, ending on a very long, very satisfied moan as he filled her. “You may have a point.” She pressed a finger across his lips. “Yes, it’s one I am liking”—she arched—“very, very, much.”
He kissed her fingertip, then nipped the end of it before pinning her hands to the bed and moving inside of her. “Move with me,” he coaxed, rolling his hips, and hers lifted again of their own volition.
“Morgan—”
“I know.”
For the first time, she heard in his voice the strain of the restraint he was showing. which prompted her to slip her hands free and pull his head to hers. She lifted her hips higher, wrapped her legs around him, and dug her heels into his back. “Now you move with me,” she said, and began pumping her hips.
“Kit—”
“I’m not made of glass, you know.” She nipped his ear, then his chin, then his bottom lip.
“Sweet Lord, have mercy,” he whispered, the deep south of his roots coming through in every reverently spoken word as he gave in . . . and let go.
Kit didn’t know which was more exhilarating, more fulfilling; the way he naturally matched her thrust for thrust, going harder and faster, taking her to greater heights than she’d known she could reach . . . or that he’d trusted her enough to cut himself loose of his natural desire to protect, even while possessing.
She wasn’t sure who cried out first, who shattered first. All she knew was that she was wrapped around him, and he around her . . . and both held on until all there was left to do was reclaim their breath and let their shuddering, spent bodies revel in what had just happened.
He finally rolled to his side, taking her with him, her leg wrapped over his, his arm around her as if it was a particular comfort they’d sought a hundred times before.
“I think my eyes are permanently crossed,” she murmured, her cheek pressed against his chest, feeling every beat of his rapidly thumping heart. She managed to lift her head just enough to prop up her chin and look at him. “You give great most carnal desire, do you know that?”
“I’m sorry,” he managed, “I’m still having an out of body experience. I’ll be back with you in a minute.”
She snorted and felt him chuckle as he tucked her against him, wrapping her up snugly in his arms.
“It’s funny,” she said, moments later when their breathing finally slowed.
“What’s funny?” he asked, sounding drowsy and sexy and very content as he traced lazy circles on her lower back with his fingertips.
“This was so . . . crazy. Crazy good, but definitely in some other realm. And . . . we’re new to each other in so many ways yet.”
“But?” There was not a tense muscle in his body at the moment, and she smiled against his chest, glad he still trusted her, believing in the good and not worrying about wherever she was leading him.
“I feel like there is so much I want to know, have yet to find out . . . but, at the same time, I feel like we’re already closer than . . .” She trailed off, unable to find the right words.
He shifted her effortlessly on top of him and opened his eyes so he could look into hers. “Even before this . . . crazy good part, I felt that.” He searched her eyes, as serious as she’d ever seen him. “I couldn’t say that, of course. I was already pushing so hard, and—I know you won’t believe me—but that’s not something I’ve ever been compelled to do.” He brushed at the hair still clinging damply to her forehead and looked at her the way a man might when he couldn’t quite believe his good fortune. “But that was the reason I pushed. It was like I’ve known you for so very long, and I’ve been looking for you and looking for you and then, one day, there you finally are. Even in that first moment, it was like, ah, there you are.”
He lifted his head, kissed her lightly on the mouth, making her smile against his lips, even as tears—the very best kind—formed in her eyes. “And, every time we spoke, every moment we’ve spent together, has felt like I was reacquainting myself with someone I already knew so well. We already get it, already know, and are finally just teaming up and getting on with where we’re supposed to be.”
Her smile grew, and, glassy-eyed, she leaned down and kissed him, tenderly. “If you’d told me that at any other time, I would have convinced myself you truly were a crazy man. A part of me would have had to call myself crazy, too . . . because you’re right. It’s like the connection has been there all along. It was just a matter of figuring out how in the hell I was going to be okay with accepting it. I knew it was big, or would be, and I wasn’t ready. It was the wrong time. Why now? Couldn’t you have found me when I had my life together?”
His smile had spread slowly to a grin, and he rolled her slowly to her back, leaning over her, looking down into her eyes. “And then you realize that when you finally meet, when you finally find each other, it doesn’t matter. All the rest of it doesn’t matter. Life scattered, life together. . . it’s just where things begin. It’s where the story is when you jump into it. It doesn’t stay there. You start writing the next chapter from that moment on.”
“Seriously”—she sighed softly, charmed and grinning at the same time, her heart so full she thought it might burst—“you really should be in front of juries, like, every day. Your clients would get off scot-free. Every single time.”
“I’m just glad the jury is still not out where we’re concerned. It feels like it took an awfully long time to find each other. And I don’t want to waste any more of it.” He leaned down and kissed her, lingering, and then continuing on a little longer. Then they were laughing and saying meaningless things and kissing, then laughing again.
She was considering if her body was up to another round of most carnal desire, but his phone chirped—from somewhere in the room—with a text message.
To his credit, he didn’t go diving off the bed looking for it, even though her first thought was Lilly, so she knew it had to have been his as well.
He rolled off her and they sat up, searching the room in the moonlight, waiting for the phone to chirp again. When it did, Morgan got up and went over to the pile of clothes and retrieved his phone from his pants pocket. “Birdie,” he said, confirming her suspicions. He looked up, and even in the dim light she saw his shoulders sag in relief. “She’s just letting me know Lilly woke up, had to use the bathroom, asked for some water.” He grinned as he scrolled down, the light from the screen illuminating his face. “And didn’t seem at all surprised to find Birdie there to help her sort things out before she climbed back into bed.”
Kit slipped off the bed and crossed the short distance to him. “That’s so good.”
“Well, she’s probably half sleepwalking, but yes, it’s . . .” He sighed, and she could hear the relief and happiness in it.
“Yes,” Kit said, slipping her arms around his waist. “It sure is.”
She watched as he texted Birdie back, saying he’d be home soon and thanking her for being there and helping out.
Kit leaned her head against his shoulder as he closed the phone and dropped it back down in the pile of clothes, before turning and pulling her more directly into his arms. He kissed her once, then again.
“I know you need to get home, and I want you to go be with Birdie, be there for Lilly,” she said between kisses, “but I will selfishly say that, at the same time, I wish this night could go on forever.”
“Me, too.” Morgan mercifully left the light off as they dressed, fumbling a little to find everything. Their vision had adapted to the moonlit darkness and anything brighter would have felt too harsh.
“My God, how did I not realize how sandy we were,” Kit said, finding everything she picked up gritty.
“Because it wasn’t sandy where it was important.”
She laughed at that and brushed at her pants, though they really needed a good shaking outdoors. And a dry cleaner. A bonfire and a match, perhaps. “Can we come back here and clean up when it’s light outside? I mean, the floor is covered in sand and the bed—”
Morgan twirled her around and up against his chest, making her laugh, then silencing her with a kiss. “I’m sure these bungalows have never had a grain of sand in them nor been mussed up a little. But yes. . . I’ll get back here and remove any evidence that Goldilocks and her most carnal bear were here.”
She giggled. “It might be easier if I did it, since you’ll probably have baby bear with you.”
“You do have a point.”
She sighed deeply and appreciatively. “No, no . . . you’re the one with the point.”
He chuckled. “I suppose we need to return from our walk down the beach, report in, see how the turtles are progressing.”
“We should.” She glanced down. “But you realize I have not a hope in hell of not looking like . . . well, exactly like what I look like.”
“They’re going to know eventually.”
She pushed up to her tiptoes and kissed him, meaning it to be a hard, fast kiss, but somehow getting a little caught up in it. He helped it along by wrapping her up in his arms and urging her to continue.
When she finally broke the kiss, he was the one who spoke. “But, not tonight. This one is all ours.”
She smiled. “Exactly. And thank you.”
“I’ll call Gabe, let him know we’re heading out. He’ll understand, and he’ll . . . come up with something. There’s a path from here that winds back to the center and the parking lot.”
“I rode here with you, so—”
“We’ll go by Riley’s and get your car; then I’ll drop you off. Where are you staying, anyway? I’ve never asked.”
“Well, nowhere permanent yet. I’ve kind of squirreled myself away in the half apartment-half storage space over Lani’s shop. I keep meaning to go look for a place, but haven’t gotten to it yet. Riley told me today that she’d get listings for me to look at, not that there’s much to choose from if I want to stay on the island. Which I do.” She leaned her cheek to his chest. “It’s funny, but it already feels like my place, this island. Like if I’m not going to be in Atlanta anymore, in the house I grew up in, then I want to be here. Not even over the bridge, but . . .”
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