Hold on My Heart (31 page)

He smiled. “Really? Here?”

“Yep.”

“You are quite the event coordinator, aren’t you?” He chuckled, and tested the sturdiness of the chair, jostling it a little against the floor. “This should work.” He sat down and peered up at her. “What now?”

She was bold and brazen. It must be the dress. Or the magical mead. She reached for his belt, a sense of adventure frolicking along her nerves. Tom Murphy was about to get swashbuckled.

His hands slid up her arms and he looked down the front of her dress. “I like the view from this chair.”

“Less talk, more action, Murlan.” The belt thwacked against her hand as she unhooked it from the clasp and reached for his zipper. He gasped in surprise, but moved forward on the seat to give her better access.

She wanted to touch him, right now, and his body sprang forth, eager to comply. He tipped his head back, his breath fast and shallow as she teased him with her fingers. He was already rock solid in her grasp. She squeezed and ran her hand along the length of him.

“Goddamn, Libby. What’s gotten into you?” The laughter down low in his throat turned into more of a groan. “Whatever it is, I like it.”

She didn’t know what had gotten into her, exactly. She only knew she wanted him. Forget the complications or the hesitations. Forget guarding her emotions. This moment was about the two of them and nothing else.

She kissed him, breathy and unsteady, loving the taste and texture of his mouth, the heat of his kiss.

His hand moved to reach up under her skirt. His fingers skimmed upward, along her legs, scorching a trail over sensitized skin until he reached her lacy underpants. She chuckled as he hooked them with his thumbs, and slowly, slowly tugged them down until they were a lacy heap between her feet. Her knees nearly gave up, but she stayed where she was, anticipation a bubble ready to pop.

He tilted his head back and their eyes met. The teasing stopped. Only craving remained. Tom reached up again and gripped her bare hips.

She caught up the fabric of her skirt and let him guide her forward, over his lap. And without another thought, she settled down on him, giving in to that hot, sweet stretch.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he groaned into her kiss.

“Libby.” His voice was a rasp. He caught her lip between his teeth and bit, but the sting of it was glorious. She pressed her feet against the floor and rocked against him.

“God. Too reckless,” he murmured.

“I know. But we should be fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“We’ll be fine.”

He kissed her then, deep, breaths catching between them. She tugged at his hair, folding her arms around his head, tilting her own so he could drag kisses across her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and when she might have slowed the pace, he gripped her hips and urged her on. She smelled the roses and tasted his skin, sweet and salty. Delicious.

Her heart stood at the cliff’s edge, peering over, until there was no more thought, no poetry, or rationalizations. Just motion and need until, at last, her body gave in to that familiar quiver. It swelled and unfurled from her center, pouring out and over in every direction until she shattered from the strength of it. She pressed her face into the curve of Tom’s neck, her arms still locked around his shoulders. She felt him hesitate, but she squeezed him with her legs and with her body, moving again until he gave in to his own need and let loose into her, pulling her tight against him and breathing endearments into her ear.

His body shuddered in the aftermath, and she held him tight, their breaths rapid and mingling. He pressed his face against the curve of her neck until he tipped back and his eyes met hers.

She saw the question on his face, heard it without his even asking.

“We’ll be fine,” she said.

W
hat the hell had he just done? Sixteen years had passed and still the same impetuous mistake.

But it didn’t feel like one. It felt like home. It felt like hope.

Tom caught Libby’s face in his hands and kissed her mouth, slow and tender. Maybe he hadn’t learned anything at all. Maybe his heart fell too hard, too fast, but it was the only way he knew how to live. And somehow he’d make all the pieces fit together.

He gazed at her. Her eyes were big and dark in the dim light, her lips plumped up from his kiss. His heart beat once, twice, then paused like a hummingbird, fluttering madly but not going anywhere.

“I love you, Libby. I know it’s crazy, and I know it’s fast, and God knows it’s complicated. But there it is. I love you.”

She stared back at him for such a long time he very nearly wished he could take the words back—except he wouldn’t. Because he meant them. And no matter what happened next, he wanted her to know.

A smile started at the corners of her mouth, moving slow like sunrise over the lake. She laced her fingers around the back of his neck.

“It is crazy, and it is fast, and it doesn’t make any sense at all, but”—she shrugged her shoulders—“I love you, too. A lot.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, hard. So hard she bumped against his nose, the sudden pain an odd contrast to all the pleasure still reverberating through the rest of him. Tom started to laugh.

Liberty Belle Hamilton was a hazard, but she was the right woman for him, at the right time. He was certain of that. He could fill all of his tomorrows with her laughter and her touch. Sorrow was behind him.

He squeezed her waist. “I don’t want to clean this place up right now. I just want to take you back to my house and work on that corset. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

They gathered up a few things, her purse, their coats. Her panties. And walked arm in arm to the truck. He helped her gather up that enormous skirt and climb into the cab.

“I’ll be right back. I want to make sure the door is locked.”

He climbed up on the front porch and checked the handle of the ice-cream parlor, and smiled to himself. He’d never imagined all those weeks ago that when he walked through that door, he was walking into a brand-new day. Libby Hamilton had crashed into his life and turned everything right-side up again.

Libby snuggled down under the bedding, feeling thoroughly adored and satisfied. “I bet even the bride and groom aren’t having as good a night as we are.” She reached out to ruffle his hair. They were lying in his bed, face to face, the afterglow of another dizzying romp fading slowly.

His hand rested on her naked hip, and he gave it a squeeze. “I don’t imagine they are. We’re lucky.” He pressed a kiss against her shoulder.

Something in his tone hinted there was a
but
to that sentence.

“But?” she prompted when he said nothing more.

He lifted his head from the pillow and rested it on his fist, elbow bent against the mattress. “But we were stupid earlier. What happened at the ice-cream parlor—we can’t make a habit of that.” He shook his head. “I’m crazy for you, Libby. Obviously, but no matter how I feel, I’m not ready for another baby.”

Remorse plunked her in the ribs, rattling her breath. Not because she was worried. She knew her cycle and was certain they were in the clear,
but because Tom was worried. She shouldn’t have put him in that situation.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just got carried away because you’re so sexy.” She ruffled his hair again, to tease him, but his smile had faded. She wanted it back. “Please don’t start feeling guilty now, okay? Because that escapade at the ice-cream parlor was entirely my fault. I seduced you.”

His forehead creased. “Yes, you did. Quite effectively. But I had a choice. And I’m the one who should know better.”

“Tom, we should both know better. But I’m certain we’re fine. I learned everything there is to know about ovulation cycles when Ginny was trying to get pregnant. Anyway, we can always blame it on the mead.” She smiled, determined to lighten this moment back up.

He pulled her closer. “I could blame it on that corset.”

Libby laughed and slid her calf up his leg. “Let’s blame it on my sisters. It was kind of their fault.”

Tom’s eyes crinkled up with his smile. “How do you figure that?”

“Because they said I should marry you and have a baby right away.”

The laughter splashed away from his face. He flipped to his back as if kicked in the chest and stared up at the ceiling. “Wow.”

Cart. Horse. Damn it.

She hadn’t meant to say that. She had no self-control at all tonight, it seemed. Remorse kicked her again. Wearing cleats.

Libby rolled to her stomach and rose up on her elbows. “I’m just kidding, Tom. That was a joke.”

He looked back at her. “It’s not really a joke if you end up pregnant.”

“No, of course it isn’t, but we only did it that one time.”

“It only takes one time, Libby. The effects of sex aren’t cumulative.”

Frustration was unraveling at the fringe of her good mood. “Listen to me, Tom. Ten thousand dollars says I’ll get my period tomorrow. I am like clockwork.”

He sighed and looked back at the ceiling. “You don’t have ten thousand dollars.”

“It doesn’t matter, because I won’t lose this bet.”

A smile tilted at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t have ten thousand dollars either.”

The pain in her ribs receded. She held out her hand. “Six bucks, then? Deal?”

He stared at that hand for a moment while Libby’s heart crumbled like a cookie. But then he turned his face toward her. “Six bucks and a blow job, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Libby smiled. “Nice.”

“It’s getting pretty late. Maybe you should take me home.” Libby’s voice was soft, her gentle tapping on his shoulder rousing him. He’d fallen asleep with her in his arms, and he never wanted to leave this bed.

“Home? I was kind of hoping you’d stay.” The bed without her would be too empty.

“Until morning?” She sounded surprised.

He opened one eye and stared at her. “Don’t you want to?”

She’d never spent the night at his house, always leaving before midnight with the excuse her parents might be worried. He really hadn’t come very far at all, had he? Still dating a girl with a curfew. “I’m sure your parents know where you are.”

Laughter curled the edges of her voice. “I’m sure they do. I just don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

He opened his other eye. A glow of light came from the hallway and cast a ray over her bare shoulder. Libby liked to have some lights on whenever they made love, and he adored that about her. And a dozen other things, too. “Libby, in case you haven’t figured this part out, I’m pretty happy that you’re here.”

She smiled and traced her hand over his chest. “Careful about sweet talk like that. I might start showing up here all the time. And then I’d bother you.”

He brushed the hair back from her face. “It never bothers me when you’re here. It bothers me when you leave.”

She lifted her head off the pillow and stared at him. “That’s a pretty romantic thing to say, Mr. Murphy.”

“Maybe you’re turning me into a romantic guy.” He laughed at himself. “Probably not, though. It’s just the truth. These last few weeks with you have changed everything.”