Connor (The Kendall Family Series Book 2) (24 page)
She finally straightened up and turned her head half around, seeking his lips, which closed over hers. A final groan of enjoyment from both of them and they reluctantly separated, her pussy still quivering.
“Take me to bed, sweetheart,” Sophia said.
Connor nodded. Then he quickly finished washing himself and turned off the water. He lifted Sophia out, setting her down gently as he admired her exquisite curves. The soft towel he began rubbing her with did little to ease her arousal, which he caught the scent of with a knowing smile that made her spread her legs.
“This time sweetly,” she suggested.
“Whatever you want,” he replied, kissing her belly. Moments later they were dry and he swathed them both in towels before carrying her to the bedroom, closing the door with one foot. Laying her down, he disrobed them, turned out the lights, got in beside her, and pulled the sheets over them.
“How do you want me?” Connor asked, kissing her cheek, then her neck.
“Make love to me, Connor.”
“Your wish is my command.”
He moved on top of her as Sophia spread her legs. With the ease of familiarity, they consummated their adoration with slow, simmering lovemaking that brought her to the edge of tears. Deep relaxation spread throughout her body as she quietly came in his arms, Connor pumping his seed into her one last time tonight. They fell into a deep sleep, legs, fingers, and hearts intertwined, their lips near to touching throughout the peaceful night.
In the morning, as they lay in spoon position, Connor turned Sophia’s face to him and murmured, “I love you, Sophia.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.” She gave him a long, tender kiss and then pressed back into him.
“It seems crazy fast, doesn’t it?” he quietly said in her ear. “Not quite love at first sight, but close.”
“If I think about it, yes, but it feels like forever. And that’s how long I want it to last.”
“Me, too. I guess some couples do get married in a week. The question is whether they last.”
“Do you have doubts we will?”
“None at all.”
“Me either.”
He let out a deep breath and then turned her to him. “I always wanted to do this with a ring and something fancy, but will you marry me, Sophia?”
Her eyes lit up and she tingled from scalp to toe. “I don’t need a ring, love. Just you. Of course I’ll marry you.”
“Are you sure?”
She chuckled so long that he began to laugh too, turning a little red. She finally said, “Most guys are just happy to get a yes. You’re too funny, Connor.”
“I guess I should quit while I’m ahead.”
“Oh, you’re ahead alright. But to answer your question, I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. If there’s one thing all of this has taught me, it’s that life is too short.”
They melted into each other and kissed, exploring each other’s lips, teeth, and tongues. And then Connor asked, “If life’s too short, then how’s next weekend for getting hitched?”
She laughed. “And crash your brother’s wedding?”
“Oh shit, I forgot all about that in the excitement. Yeah, maybe we should wait.”
“At least a day, anyway,” she joked.
After kissing her, he asked, “What about school? You can transfer down here? I won’t survive you being up in New York and I can’t leave the inn, even though we won’t have guests for a while, I assume.” He hadn’t been by Sugarloaf Inn since leaving in the ambulance, but from what Chloe had said last night, preparations for reopening would take months. He had a nightmare of insurance and contractors to deal with but didn’t want to think about it.
“Honestly,” Sophia began, “I don’t know. I’m sure I can transfer, but I might need to take off a semester to do it. I sort of don’t want to think about any problems. I’ve had enough for a few days.”
“I couldn’t agree more, but we’ll face everything together from now on.”
“I would
love
that.”
“Good. I did have an idea though.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“What if you became the photographer for all Kendall businesses? You could be the wedding photographer and do romantic shots of guests at the inn. Events at the winery too, for the website, brochures, and if visitors want pics. We have concerts and other events at Kendall Motorsports, and you could even go on some of the bike tours and take photos. Certainly the stables could offer photo packages for riders, and at competitive events that Kris and some others do. Also, the horse rescue work always needs before-and-after photos when Chloe has nursed a horse back to health.”
He stopped there, having run out of his ideas, but Sophia was staring at him open-mouthed. She started to laugh, eyes watering.
“God, I love you.”
Connor laughed. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes! A thousand times yes!” Sophia planted a kiss on him and then slid her tongue into his mouth as one hand reached for his growing member.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Amy Nedrow, Tracy Seybold, Ali Forrest, and Holly Goslin for their input.
Edited by Josephine Henke.
Cover design by Robin Ludwig Design Inc.,
http://www.gobookcoverdesign.com/
About The Author
Randi Everheart is an avid author of romance, due in no small part to being a diehard romantic. After all, Randi once wrote a song for the object of a crush and penned a fifty page love letter for another! The same spirit now flows into these stories—hopefully to win
your
heart!
Randi has a Bachelor’s of Music in classical guitar but has always been more of a rocker, having released several albums under another name. Tendonitis in both arms ended career plans in music, leading to a new career as a software developer. Today Randi co-owns a software consulting firm and lives in the Maryland suburbs north of D.C., is married, and loves spending time with son Ryan when not writing, playing guitar or golf, or writing smut.
Connect with me online
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Other Randi Everheart Books
THE KENDALL FAMILY SERIES
Beneath the shadow of Sugarloaf Mountain, the Kendalls run a bed-and-breakfast, stables, and winery, but the simple rural life is anything but calm when love—find trouble—finds them.
Volume 1:
Tristan
Volume 2:
Connor
Volume 3:
Riley
Volume 4:
Kris
Volume 5:
Quinn
Volume 6:
Chloe
Riley (Vol. 3) Excerpt
Jordan Hunt gazed through the sight on her sniper rifle and checked a sigh. “Killing this guy would be a shame,” she muttered to herself, “but a job’s a job.”
Riley Kendall sat shirtless in his living room, six-pack abs rippling beneath a muscled chest as he cleaned a handgun. His torso bore its share of scars, some looking like bullet holes and others like knife wounds. Four tattoos covered his powerful arms: a dragon on his right bicep, an eagle on the left, a snake on his left forearm, and a dagger on the right. She wanted to kiss his thick neck and feel the corded muscles in those arms holding her fast as he manhandled her. Normally the idea of submitting to a man didn’t sit so well with her, but something about him stirred her interest. Then again, maybe it was just because she was about to murder him in the prime of his life. That had never made her feel romantic about her victim before, but there’s a first time for everything.
She used the view port to admire his cobalt-blue eyes, which appeared softer than she would have expected, given his otherwise macho appearance. A crew cut matched the black stubble outlining his strong jaw. Even if she hadn’t read his dossier, she’d have known at once that he was a Marine. A sniper, like her. Those gentle eyes made her wonder if he was a sweetheart under the typical bravado of military guys. Part of her had always wanted that even though most of them turned out to be pigs.
“I could just wound him,” she murmured, “and go steal a kiss before finishing him. Tie him up, have some fun.” She chuckled. “Better stop that or I won’t be able to do this.”
To collect her composure, Jordan put the gun down and picked up her binoculars to scan for witnesses again. Few were likely, for most houses in rural Comus, Maryland sat on at least an acre, and the Kendall family’s property spanned dozens. Riley’s green and black Harley-Davidson Night Rod Special sat on the otherwise empty driveway of the guest house he called home. A dog that had been sniffing around had trotted off to the bigger, main house owned by Riley’s brother. Jordan couldn’t see any activity over there due to the trees separating the houses.
A hundred yards off to one side stood the family-owned Sugarloaf Stables; two barns and other, smaller buildings peeked through the foliage. In the surrounding fields, a number of horses were grazing, but one of the outdoor riding rings had three riders in it. They’d been at it an hour so Jordan had been waiting for them to disappear.
“Maybe they’re used to hearing gun shots,” she speculated, “and won’t think anything of it, but then maybe they will.”
Riley had a makeshift gun range set up behind the guesthouse, the targets being just below her perch on a hillside so that she was firing in the opposite direction. Her shot could be mistaken for his, though when someone’s at a range, they usually fire more than the one bullet she anticipated needing. She seldom missed, and never had at this close range. Despite the way movies portrayed them, gun silencers only lowered the decibels of a gunshot from 160 to 130, making them useless.
She trained her gaze on other houses nearby but saw no activity outside. Behind her, the twelve hundred foot Sugarloaf Mountain dominated the mostly flat landscape. A trail led back up to a lookout where her rental car sat, but she was fifty feet from there and no one had been hiking in this area when she came down an hour ago, or since. She could’ve made the shot from farther than she was, as only a hundred yards separated her from Riley, but that invited witnesses. Besides, she needed proof of his corpse to get paid the other half of her fee. A photo would do and necessitate going down there once he was dead.
Seeing all of the riders exit the ring, she decided now was the time.
“Okay, baby-blue-eyes,” she said to him, settling into position again, “time to sleep forever.”
She suspected Riley had the window open because many of the cleaners used for gun care needed ventilation. It didn’t change her shot, but not having to fire through glass would make it harder for cops to determine where a bullet had come from, and she didn’t intend to clean up the place she was shooting from. The loose leaves and vegetation meant she’d never find the shell casing afterward anyway, but it didn’t have her fingerprints on it. She’d made sure of that. She took aim and waited for him to stop moving so much. When he picked up a gun barrel and rag, the time had come.
Just as Jordan pulled the trigger, Riley dropped the barrel and leaned forward sharply. Her shot rang out and shattered the glass covering a framed painting behind him. Keeping her cool, she waited for him to straighten up and look around like many victims did, making a second shot easy, but she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t. He likely knew better.
Stifling a sigh, she dropped the rifle, pulled a camouflage assassin’s mask over her head, and began working her way toward the house as fast as possible while trying to stay unseen. Killing him up close and personal would be harder but might just be worth it to get a closer look at those blue eyes before she snuffed the life out of them forever.
* * *
When the picture’s glass frame shattered amid a rifle’s familiar echo, Riley Kendall threw himself to the floor. No one fired shots at his private range but him and his family, and no one was such a bad shot that the bullet went behind them. This was no accident. Someone had just tried to kill him.
Adrenaline pumping, he glared at the ruined picture of his mother. He’d kill whoever destroyed it. First he needed a gun, but the bullet’s trajectory eliminated getting the one he’d been cleaning because he’d get shot going for it. There were only so many places to fire a rifle into the living room, which was at the house’s rear, facing the mountain. The shot had to have come from near his targets. That limited his options for reaching the gun chest in the upper guest room, too.
“Stairs are out,” he muttered. “I’ll just get shot on them.”
His dog Coby scampered down the steps, nails clattering on the hardwood.
“Down,” Riley commanded, and the dog lay at the bottom of the stairs, ears perked up. He’d trained the canine for more than household stuff, like being a guard dog, but didn’t want it getting shot.
His eyes glanced up at the table; he could have tipped it to slide the remaining parts to him, but he likely didn’t have time to assemble the weapon. The Nighthawk T4 he used for work was sitting in its holster near the front door. Solid walls stood between him and the shooter now, if he went for the hallway, so he did, sliding across the floor. Then he crawled around the corner with Coby beside him. Once there, he almost stood up but realized more than one person might be out there. Crouching, he made it down the hall and grabbed the gun off the table in the foyer.
