Crazy About Cameron: The Winslow Brothers #3 (The Blueberry Lane Series -The Winslow Brothers) (19 page)

“Okay?”

“
So
okay,” she murmured, her voice dreamy and low.

He slid farther into her, desperately trying not to move too fast or hurt her smaller body with the intrusion of his far larger one, however welcome.

“Meggie, I don’t want to . . .”

“I want all of you, Cameron.”

And that’s all it took. He dropped his elbows by her head and sank the rest of the way into her body with a groan of epic and unrivaled fulfillment.

She bowed her back beneath him, straining her neck and pressing her head back into her pillow with a loud moan, “Mmmmnnn.”

“Look at me, baby.”

She turned her face to the side, her eyes still closed, and Cameron withdrew just a little, worried it was too much for her, but her hands flew to his ass, pulling him forward, and he thrust back into her until his balls pressed flush against her skin, and she moaned beneath him again, biting her bottom lip as her fingernails bit into his back.

“Again,” she sighed, her beautiful lips tilting up in a dreamy smile.

He wasn’t hurting her.

Fuck, her body was as tight as a glove around him, and she was smiling.

Rotating his hips, he withdrew from her, then plunged slowly back inside, leaning down to lick her lips open. When she parted them for him, he kissed her, thrusting into her sweet, hot heaven with increasing speed and force.

She raised her knees, locking her ankles behind his back, and Cameron groaned as he slid deeper still, the sensation robbing him of rhythm and pace. She moaned beneath him, licking his lips, sucking on his tongue, writhing as her fingernails drew blood and her neck strained so far back on the pillow that, when he leaned back to look down at her, he could see the fluttering pulse.

“Cam, I can’t . . .I can’t . . .”

Pulling all the way out of her, he teased the opening of her sex until she opened her eyes.

“I love you,” she said. “Come with me.”

It was the selflessness of her request that pushed Cameron over the edge: for him to find his pleasure with her because she loved him. And Cameron let go, thrusting into her body over and over again until she screamed his name in joyful release and he groaned that he was hers until the end of time.

As she often did, Margaret dreamed of green-eyed children with thick black hair zigzagging through rows of grapes while their father, with his deep, thundering laugh, chased after them. Their giggles were high and happy as they squealed, “Mommy!” barreling into her arms as their father—her beloved Cameron—swooped them all up into his strong arms, his smile promising an exquisite forever.

And then the children faded away, running merrily back into the vines as Cameron’s arms remained around her, his lips hot at the base of her throat, then sucking at her breasts, licking the sensitive points until she—

Opening her eyes, she found Cameron’s head bobbing gently beneath her chin, her breast in his mouth, his fingers gently teasing and pinching her other nipple. Her body was wet and ready for him. Tired, yes, but prepared and needy. She threaded her hands through his hair, groaning with pleasure as he slid into her waiting body without preamble or permission, knowing he was welcome, believing as strongly as she that it was where he belonged.

Still half asleep, she closed her eyes as he slowly pumped into her, touching her womb gently with the tip of his sex, then pulling away. And suddenly she thought of those green-eyed children again, laughing with glee, and she gasped, pushing at his shoulders.

“Cameron! Cameron, stop! Wait!”

He went rigid above her, looking down at her with horrified eyes. “Am I hurting you?’

She shook her head. “No. No, but I . . . Oh God.”

He slid out of her, hovering over her body, worry overtaking his face. “What, baby? Tell me. Now.”

“Cameron,” she started, “I . . . I’m not . . .”

“You’re not in love with me.”

“Of course I’m in love with you, you idiot! I’m not on birth control!”

He was already still, but his body went
rigidly
still,
terrified
still. His eyes searched her face desperately.

“What?”

“I’m not . . .” She licked her lips nervously, her body quivering from deprivation, desperate to be filled by him again. Did he feel it? Could he feel the trembling of her flesh—so close to his—that longed to suck him back inside and feel him moving within her? “I’m not on the pill.”

“Christ,” he muttered, falling onto his back. As he stared at the ceiling, panting, he laid a palm on his forehead. “Why didn’t you say something?”

The chill in his voice hurt worse than she could have imagined. Was the thought of having a child with her so repulsive? Tears sprang to her eyes, and she pulled the sheet over her exposed breasts.

“Why didn’t
you
?”

“Because I . . . Fuck, the truth? I wasn’t thinking about anything except how badly I wanted you.” He sighed loudly. “Fuck.”

Margaret sniffled softly, rolling to her side and putting her back to him. The reality? After their lovemaking earlier, she
could
be pregnant right now. Though it was unlikely, based on her cycles, technically it
was
possible. And though having a baby was an almost aching desire, she wouldn’t have necessarily chosen to get pregnant unengaged, unmarried, on the very first night that she and Cameron had sex.

Then again, her life wasn’t exactly going according to schedule right now. Quitting Story Imports and making The Five Sisters her life hadn’t been an immediate plan either, and yet, when she thought about her future now, she was happier than she’d been in a long time. And truthfully, having Cameron’s children had been one of Margaret’s most secret, most favorite dreams for a long, long time.

It really came down to one question: was she ready? If she was pregnant with his baby right now, was she ready to be a mother?

The truth washed over her like warm rain, divine and wholesome and inescapable: She was. She was ready. Though her father would disapprove, it didn’t matter. The life Margaret wanted—the life she could love with every fiber of her being—was finally falling into place, and a child with the man she loved would only make it more perfect. Even if Cameron didn’t want the child,
she
did.

His hand was gentle on her back. Soothing. Placating.

“I’m so fucking sorry about this.”

He was
sorry
. Oh God, had it ever hurt so badly to hear that word? Leaning away from him, she couldn’t help the tear that slid over her nose, onto her pillow.

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt you. I promised you were safe with me. I promised you would have no regrets, and—”

Wait a second! Wait a—
She flipped back over to face him, her brows furrowing with confusion.

“Cameron,
why
are you sorry?”

“Because you could be pregnant. Because I could have gotten you fucking pregnant, and I—”

“Wait. Are you . . . I mean . . . just tell me this: do you want kids?”

“Yeah. I mean, of course . . . someday.”

“
My
kids?” she asked, her heart in her throat.

He flinched.

“Don’t lie to me,” she warned him, searching his eyes, with hopefulness but uncertainty.

“Fuck yes,” he whispered, the intensity in his voice strong under a veneer of self-disgust. “Of course I want to have kids with you. I’d love
ten
kids with you, if you want to give them to me. But believe me, I wasn’t trying to trap you into—”

“Cameron, are you under the impression that I don’t
want
your children? That being pregnant with your child would be . . . upsetting to me?”

He gulped, and a flash of hurt passed over his eyes, so stark and desperate, her heart clutched. “We only just got together. I know
I
move at the speed of light, but I can’t imagine that
you
would want—”

“Imagine it,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Because there is no world, no
universe
in which I don’t want your child growing inside me.”

His eyes flared, widening with understanding, before he blinked at her once, twice, and then his face crumbled with emotion as he reached for her blindly and pulled her into his arms.

“Meggie,” he said softly, his breath kissing her ear as he held her tightly against his trembling body. “Meggie.”

Her name was a prayer.

Her name was hope.

Her name was love.

Her name was enough.

***

Morning light poured into Margaret’s bedroom from the doll house–like window over her bed, and Cameron breathed deeply, adjusting his grip on the woman pressed against him. After they’d assured each other once again that, although a pregnancy would be unplanned, it wouldn’t be unwelcome, they’d made love two more times, once fast and furious—a mixture of relief and celebration—and once with exquisite tenderness, staring into each other’s eyes and pledging their very lives to each other as they climaxed together in blissful delight, riding out the tremors and falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Staring at her now, he could barely believe the tremendous step forward their relationship had taken. Not only had they slept together multiple times, but, without formally committing their lives to each other, informally they’d done just that. And in no way did that commitment feel scary or premature—it just felt right. More than right, it felt essential, like he would rather die than contemplate a life without her.

He still needed to speak to Margaret about coming on board as a full partner at The Five Sisters, but in his heart he knew she would welcome him. They’d buy more grapes, buy more land, and make their vineyard the finest in Pennsylvania. They’d distribute worldwide, host beautiful events, and grow their brand so that The Five Sisters was synonymous with the world’s best wines and a Greater Philadelphia destination for the finest events. He couldn’t wait. He’d finally found the key to his future, and he couldn’t wait for it to begin.

Glancing down at Margaret’s sleeping form, he dropped a tender kiss on her forehead and shimmied carefully out of bed, unwilling to wake her. She had to be exhausted after Sunday night’s work and last night with him. He grinned wickedly, thinking about the way she’d straddled his lap, wrapped around his body, filled with his hardness and begging for more. He’d used her body hard, but she’d met his hunger, his need, his demand. She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her, and he’d loved the intimacy of their bodies joined together just as much as the mutual frenzy that had carried them there.

Kissing her once more, he forced himself up, stretched naked in the wide beam of light, and covered Margaret’s sleeping body with her comforter. After a quick shower, he ran outside to grab his overnight case and placed the FedEx box from Franklin on her kitchen table. He started the coffee machine before tiptoeing back upstairs to get his clothes.

“Cam?” she murmured, her voice breathy with sleep.

He sat on the bed beside her. “What, baby?”

“Why are you up already?”

He stroked the hair from her forehead and pressed feather kisses to her closed eyelids. “I’m used to walking up early. I’m going to go check out the tasting room. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mm-hm,” she sighed before rolling onto her stomach and falling back into a deep sleep.

He chuckled softly, beguiled by her in every way, then grabbed his shirt and slipped back downstairs to pour himself a mug of coffee. He walked outside into the cool July morning and made his way down the brambled path toward the winery and tasting room.

Shawn was right. The workers had made excellent progress this week.

The building was not only framed, but the roof had been covered with sheathing and felt, and the windows had been added within the frame. It reminded him of a picture he’d once seen of an Amish barn raising, and he mused that if a hundred Amish men could show up tomorrow, the whole building would likely be finished in a day. It was an enormous structure, but it would be filled with light, and as Cameron walked inside, he felt a profound sense of accomplishment and belonging.

For years he’d felt an emptiness working at C & C Winslow that was partially assuaged by the fact that he worked with his brother. But once Christopher had left the company, there was nothing that bound Cameron to the business on an emotional level. He didn’t like financial work. He didn’t see the beauty in it that someone like, say, Barrett English, saw.

But this? This big old barn that would host his sister’s wedding and stand firm and strong as a symbol of the days he fell in love with Margaret? This was something real. Something good. Something that made Cameron’s future look bright and feel exciting. And it occurred to him that he was finally building something. In the same way that C & C Winslow had been his father’s legacy, this place—The Five Sisters—could be his.

He turned back toward the cottage to freshen up his coffee when he heard two troubling noises: the first, a scream that ripped through his heart because Margaret’s voice was unmistakable, and the second, the sound of a motor tearing out of The Five Sisters road. Racing from the tasting room up to the dirt road, he arrived just in time to see a beat-up aqua pickup truck with Pennsylvania plates whoosh by and sail out the front gates.

Cameron sprinted back to the cottage, past the barrel shed, past the ferment shed, stopping with horror as he saw the front door of the cottage sitting wide open. Gasping for breath born of sprinting and panic, he rushed inside to find Margaret—his sweetheart, his love, his Meggie—sprawled on the floor between the kitchen and sitting room, her chestnut hair lying limp in a widening circle of her own blood.

***

Margaret’s eyes fluttered open slowly, but the small movement made her head throb so unmercifully, she couldn’t decide if it would be better to close them again. She chose to keep them open, a small whimper leaving her throat as her eyes focused.

She had no idea where she was, but through the dim light she could tell that the walls were a sea-foam green, and the steady sound of a mechanical beep somewhere near her ear reminded her of a hospital. Staring up at the ceiling, she blinked, causing another wave of pain so sharp, it made her stomach turn over.

“Baby?” whispered Cameron’s voice. “Can you hear me?”

She desperately wanted to turn her head to face him, but if blinking made a gong clang in her head, she was terrified to find out what sort of pain moving her neck would bring.

“Cam?” she murmured, the sound like the cry of a small, broken thing.

Suddenly he was standing over her, his handsome face a mask of worry.

“Don’t talk.”

She searched his face, desperate for him to tell her what had happened, where she was, and if she was going to be okay. As though he could read her mind, he nodded.

“I don’t know what happened, baby. When I left, you were asleep. I went to the tasting room to check on the building progress, and while I was there, I heard you scream, and then I saw a truck tear out of the vineyard coming from the cottage. I ran as fast as I could to get to you and found you on the floor bleeding. I picked you up, put you in my car, and raced here, to the hospital. I should have called an ambulance, but I was terrified, Meggie. It appears you were hit with something hard on the side of the head, just over your ear. Eight stitches, baby, but the doctor said it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Head wounds bleed a lot.”