Haunt Me (17 page)

While she still seemed reticent to take their relationship any further, casual contact wasn’t off-limits and her smile came far more readily. She ate more—and filled in the hollow gauntness that had worried him. They’d even indulged in a morning-long grocery-shopping trip to a neighboring town and its Wegmans supermarket. Once upon a time, he’d sooner have poked out his own eye than voluntarily gone shopping on a weekend with every person within fifty miles trying to weave their carts through the throng.

But it had been fun. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard or wanted to repeat such a mundane experience. Being with Mac had become vital to him; she was in his blood and his bones. And as much as they’d danced around each other, he knew they danced perilously close to a truth. But once they crossed that line, it could destroy them. Shaking off the ominous thought, he focused on the present and on what he could fix. He couldn’t wait for her to see her surprise.

“Okay, three steps down.” He guided her down the porch steps, careful to keep her from stumbling.

“And straight on till morning?”

“Something like that.” He glanced ahead. The last few days she’d been completely sucked into her writing. Prior to that, they’d finished the rest of the walls in her kitchen and revealed the solid timbers of the construction. Sanding the wood to finish cleaning it, she’d gasped at the raw, fresh look it added to the kitchen and refused to paint it. He’d suggested a sealant instead and she’d gone with that. They’d started in the main living room next, stripping the room of all the additions over the years until they’d revealed the natural beauty.

Restoring the house had become a fascination for her, a present she unwrapped with the vigor of a five-year-old on Christmas morning. When they were done with Summerfield, they’d have to find another project to do together. He’d never looked forward to a future before, not with another person, but he didn’t want to imagine one that didn’t have her in it. Not anymore.

“Are we there yet?” she singsonged.

He laughed and stopped walking, but kept her eyes covered. “Okay, I’m going to take my hands off, but no peeking until I say.”

“You are so bossy today.”

“For the next few minutes, I am the boss of you. No peeking. Understood?” Maintaining the stern tone was hard when he wanted to tease her. She’d have been the girl on the playground whose pigtails he would have pulled on a regular basis just to make her chase him.

Hell, he wanted her to chase him now, chase him until she caught him.
One and definitely done.

“Understood. No peeking. Yes, sir.”

“And no mocking.” He tapped her nose lightly as he let go of her eyes, then circled her to walk a few feet in front, watching her the whole time. Her eyelids didn’t twitch, but a smile played at the corners of her mouth and her nose wrinkled. A thrill raced through him in anticipation of her reaction.

“You can look now…surprise!”

Her eyelashes fluttered up and curiosity flared on her face. She focused on him first, then she gazed beyond him at the finished gazebo. Her smile broadened and her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. Pleasure shot through him at the undisguised wonder.

“You finished it!”

“Yes, ma’am. I did.” He’d counted on her preoccupation with her book and the other ongoing projects inside the house to keep her distracted from his restoration work.

“It’s…beautiful.”

Once he’d uncovered all of it, he’d been fascinated to discover the Greek aesthetic to the column work. Each one topped by a Corinthian wave, the whole piece covered by a wrought iron dome, the backdrop of the trees in their full autumn foliage provided the perfect canvas for its white perfection.

“Yes, it is.” But he didn’t look away from her, the expression on her lovely face a thousand times more precious than the treasure he’d fought the garden to take back.

Mac dashed forward and grabbed his hand, then raced with him to the rounded steps, tugging him along. Inside, she turned in a slow circle, her face tipped upward. The overhead canopy was rife with red, orange, and gold hues backlit by the sun.

“You like it?” He gave her hand a squeeze.

“Like it?” She wheeled around and gazed up at him. Rapt joy suffused her face and envy clawed at him. He wanted her to look at him that way. “I
love
it.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I—I had no idea, even when I saw it half cleared…this is like…pure magic. Justin…” She seemed to be having trouble with her mouth; the smile on her face kept interrupting her words.

Delight seared him. He could get drunk on her expressive face. “Yes, Mac?” The husky note in his voice surprised him.

Lifting their joined hands, she pressed a kiss to his knuckles and robbed him of thought. All the oxygen backed up in his lungs.

“These are magic hands, and you have an amazing gift. Don’t ever not be you.”

Her declaration rocked him and he wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly she was in his arms and he’d slanted his mouth over hers. She opened to him, meeting his tongue with eager little strokes, and the dam behind where he’d walled his need began to crack.

She was it for him—his soul had long since recognized hers
…and the danger she presented
. Fear ignited and he quashed it. It wasn’t a journey anymore—she
was
important to him.

Citrus and a hint of coconut filled his nostrils, the purely feminine scent he associated only with her. A low moan vibrated in her throat. He caught his breath. Every other time they’d reached this point, she would hesitate or withdraw. His heart fell when she pulled back.

Her breath game in short, tense gasps. “This scares the hell out of me.”

“What does?” He fought for calm and brushed the hair away from her face.

“You. Me. This dynamite bang whenever you kiss me.” Her voice took on a shivery quality.

“Dynamite bang,” he repeated. “I like the sound of that. It’s more earth shifting for me.” He relied on his instincts to guide him, rubbing his knuckles lightly along her jaw and down the column of her neck. “Trust me, Mac. I won’t hurt you.”

Could not, would not, ever hurt her.

Her pupils dilated and she bit down on her lower lip. Shuddering, she closed her eyes, but she didn’t push him away. He continued to trace the line of her collarbone and then up to the other side of her face. The desire to explore every inch of her filled him—he wanted to know her body as well as he knew every line and curve of her face, from her soft, swollen lips to the whorls of her ears. He liked to see the shadows and doubts chased away by the joy.

“I don’t want to be a project,” she whispered. “You said you love every house you work on, but those are projects. I don’t want to be something you fix or feel like you have to restore.”

Surprise winked through him. “You’re not.”

“Aren’t I?” She tilted her head. “Sometimes…sometimes I feel like I am. And others…”

“And others?” he prompted, leaning his forehead down to rest against hers. She was so stubborn, so resistant to the very real chemistry unfolding between them. The flames threatened to burn him up from the inside out. How could she mistake that for anything else?

She tensed and his gut clenched.
Here it comes…
The moment she’d pull away, again. He’d pushed too hard, too fast, but he was excited about finishing the gazebo and the sheer joy in her when she saw the finished project. He wanted to wrap that joy up and keep it close to him forever. Keep
her
close.

“Other times you make me feel so beautiful. Cherished, even.”

Possessive need flooded him. “You are beautiful, Mac. Exquisitely, provocatively, and utterly beautiful.” Capturing her face with his hand, he made her look at him. “I’ve thought so since the first day I met you.”

“You did not. I was so rude.”

“Feisty. Temperamental. Sassy.” He ticked them off one a time, punctuating the words with tender kisses nibbled against her mouth. “Passionate. Fierce. Stubborn. Tough.”

She relaxed against him, leaning into his hands, and a tremulous smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “See, there you go making me feel beautiful again.”

“Good.” The gentle friction of his forehead to hers evoked a wave of tenderness through him. “Don’t you know what you do to me?”

She shook her head slowly, shyness flaring in her eyes. “Will you show me?”

Undone. He was so completely undone by this woman. “With great pleasure, but”—and he might hate himself for this later—“you were worried about our friendship?”

“I’m a terrible friend. I can’t promise to be a better lover, but I’ll jump if you will.”

Closing his eyes, he let the victory slam through him.
Finally.
He covered her mouth and kissed her, sweeping her up in the same moment. Pivoting, he strode for the house, peppering her with kisses.

She squealed with laughter. “I’m too heavy for this.”

“There you go, assaulting my manhood again.” He got the door open and them inside and continued down the hall. No more delays, no more interruptions—no more separation. It felt like he’d waited his whole life to be with her, and he wasn’t wasting another damn moment.

…

With shaking hands, Justin fought for control. The feel of Mac’s body and her scent created an intoxicating trap, and he had to fight the urge to rip her clothes off and fall on her like a starving man. His control, it seemed, was finite. She rubbed against him, and when her door didn’t open with his first twist and nudge, he gave it a push.

It didn’t move.

Breaking from the kiss, he glared at the door.

“I told you the doors do that. They lock up and won’t open.”

If not for his body’s raging need to bury himself in her, he might have been amused. As it was, the door was merely another obstacle in a long line.

Setting her down, he put his shoulder to the effort, but the doorknob didn’t move. He moved down the hallway, but every door seemed similarly shut. When Mac came up next to him, he tugged her close, kissed her hard, and nipped her lower lip. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

“Fix what?” The dazed expression returned to her eyes.

A near primal sense of satisfaction thrummed through him. He wanted to plaster her with that look until she forgot her own name. Instead, he walked her back a few steps.

“Fix this.” He hadn’t done this in years, but he’d knocked down enough walls and taken off enough beams to know sometimes getting anything to work required brute force. Kicking in the stuck door counted because he
really
needed to get in that room and they
really
needed that bed.

The frame cracked and the door flew inward with a crash. He caught it with one arm on the rebound and pulled his flashlight out of his pocket to wedge between the hinges to make sure it stayed open. “There we go. Door fixed. Well, okay, it’s broken, but I’ll fix it later.” And he’d check the foundation to see why the doors were getting wedged. Shifts in temperature could swell and retract the wood, but right now he didn’t give a damn about the condition of the door.

Holding his hand out, he was gratified when she practically flew into his arms. They made it to the bed in a tangle of need—kissing, caressing, and stripping. Justin pulled her to him to explore the contours of her skin, nibbling kisses along her collarbone, and traced the shape of her breasts. Her low moan when he teased a nipple between his thumb and forefinger caused a powerful pulse down his body.

He needed her naked, and now, before he lost all reason. Half tearing his shirt, he dragged it over his head, toed off his work boots, and pulled condoms out of his wallet before dropping the wallet, along with his jeans, on the floor. She stood frozen, one hand on her waist, staring at him.

“You’re slow,” he teased, curving a finger through her belt loop and tugging her closer.

“I’m stunned.” Need thickened her voice, which helped soothed the raw demand in his system.

“Yeah?” He brushed her fingers away and popped the button on her jeans free. The sound of her zipper descending sent electricity jolting down his spine.

“Confession time.” Her words rode short breathless pants as he slid his hands under the waistband of the jeans and peeled them, panties and all, downward. Kneeling, he braced her as she lifted her legs and let him strip the denim off and toss it aside. The curls at the juncture of her thighs were the same striking auburn as the hair tumbling over her shoulder.

She reminded him of the image of Venus rising on the half shell in Botticelli’s painting. All creamy skin and gorgeous curves. Thank God he’d managed to get her to eat more.

“Justin?” She stroked her fingers through his hair and then fisted them, tipping his head back so he looked up at her.

“What?”

A smile hovered around the corners of her sexy mouth. “I said I had a confession.”

Oh.
She wanted him to listen. His gaze drifted to her breasts and back up to her face again. He could multitask. Gripping her hips, he lifted and half-carried her the two steps to the bed. Her peal of laughter broke free when he dumped her on top of the sheets and crawled onto the bed to join her. He kissed the inside of one knee and then the other.

“Oh…” A low moan cut through her voice. “I wanted to tell you—”

She broke off as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh. The sweet scent of her arousal played havoc with what little control he had left. “Tell me quick,” he ordered. “I want to play with my beautiful lady.”

Her hips rocked upward. “I can tell you later.”

Satisfied with her response, he teased her thighs wider with a path of open-mouthed kisses until he found her tight bundle of nerves. He needed her to come apart now, because he wouldn’t last much longer. Swirling a circle around her clit, her sudden gasp and the buck of her hips gratified him. He licked a path from her center up and down again, and her need must have rivaled his because the moment he eased a finger inside her, she cried out and locked her thighs to his head.