Keeping Katie (A Mother's Heart #1) (16 page)

She craved more.

Slowly, he worked his way toward her lips, and the world spun crazily about her as she waited to feel his passion sear her mouth. Instead, he stopped, a mere breath away from what she’d been awaiting. She opened her eyes and met the coppery warmth of his gaze. He smiled and filled her with intense longing. She couldn’t wait any longer to taste his lips on hers. Weaving her fingers into his hair, she pulled him down until she could take what she required.

His mouth covered hers, hard and demanding, spreading its fire downward until she ached for more than moonlit kisses and strong arms about her. The extent of her desire frightened her, and she pulled away, not enough so he would release her, but enough to give herself a moment. A moment to think. A moment to breathe.

Maureen lowered her head to his shoulder, and Alan loosened his grip on her waist. He tried to calm himself while his heart pounded in his chest. He’d desired her for weeks now, watching her fluid movements at Lynn’s. Then he’d kissed her last week, and he’d wanted her desperately, longed to feel her lips beneath his again. But nothing had prepared him for her passion, or the way it sent a sharp claw of need ripping through his gut.

He pulled away slightly, and with one hand, he lifted her face gently toward his. Looking into the blue depths of her eyes, he saw desire reflecting his own.

“Maureen?” He brushed his thumb against her mouth. Her eyes drifted closed and her lips parted, drawing his thumb gently inside. He watched, fascinated, unable to move as she gently tasted the appendage.

After what seemed an endless eternity of exotic torment, she turned her face into his palm and kissed it softly. Alan slid his hands to her shoulders and gently circled her neck with his hands. She opened her eyes and answered his unspoken question. “Yes.”

Stepping back, he took her hand and led her into the shadows of the cliff. She came eagerly, as if she, too, could wait no longer. Her impatience destroyed the last of his restraint, and he claimed her lips with a fierce possessiveness. He invaded her mouth, and in turn, she filled his senses. Her warm, spicy smell permeated the air he breathed, while the sweet taste of her made him ache for more. She moaned, deep in her throat. Or did he?

He pulled her closer, his hands splayed across her back, until he felt the frantic groping of her hands on his neck, in his hair, begging for more. He leaned back against the stone wall and drew her into the angle formed by his widespread legs. His hands cupped her bottom, pulling her even closer, showing her the extent of his hunger.

Maureen needed no urging, and she rubbed herself against him, the ache between her thighs growing torturous. He aroused something within her she hadn’t known existed. A fire. A yearning. It coiled inside her, burning hotter with each caress, each stroke of his tongue. She needed him. Here. Now. On this moon-drenched cliff. Denying it had become impossible. Stopping it unthinkable.

He slid his hands upward to claim yet another part of her. He found her breasts beneath the thin fabric of her blouse, fabric that was suddenly too thick, too cloying. As if reading her mind, he yanked the offending garment from the waistband of her skirt. The touch of his hands against her bare skin sent shivers down her spine. He worked his way back to her breasts, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. She moaned at his caress, her already taut nipples turning hard and aching.

Maureen thought she’d reached the limits of her endurance. She thought he could take her no higher. Yet when he touched her breasts, she knew she’d been wrong. Nothing had ever felt more right, more natural than the feel of this man’s hands on her. Though she’d fought it, she had known from the very beginning that this moment, this physical contact, was inevitable. She’d felt herself drawn to him, spiraling out of control. But she had never expected this rightness, this feeling of belonging.

The feel of Maureen’s soft skin was unlike anything Alan had ever experienced. Silky, smooth, more like fine satin than the skin of a grown woman. And her breasts, full and hard, growing heavier and more taut with each touch of his fingers.

He pulled away to look into her eyes as he stroked her, but she kept them closed, her lips parted in invitation. He nipped at her mouth, and her eyes opened, bright with desire. They held passion, deep and demanding. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Her hands pulled at the buttons of his shirt until they were skin against skin. He growled again as her mouth came back to his, and his hands returned to her bottom, grabbing and tugging at her skirt until her soft, rounded flesh was covered only with the thinnest nylon. His hands slipped inside her panties, and he realized he planned to take her right there.

“Maureen,” he said, releasing her mouth but not yet able to relinquish his other hold on her. He would stop now if he must, if she asked it of him. But nothing he’d ever done would be more difficult. “Here?”

She didn’t answer verbally but drew his head back down to hers while melding herself more firmly against him. It was all the answer Alan needed, and it destroyed what little control he had left. Turning her so her back pressed up against the wall, he lifted her until she straddled his waist. She held him tight with her arms and legs while he struggled with his own clothes. Then he was free, and, ripping the thin nylon, he buried himself deep inside her.

T
hey walked in uncomfortable silence back to the square. Maureen kept her arms wrapped tight about her waist, afraid to let him touch her again. It had all happened so fast. She hardly knew what to think, what to feel.

She stole a glance at Alan and saw he felt it, too—the rashness of what they’d done. Turning away, she momentarily closed her eyes and stumbled over a root. Alan grabbed her arm to steady her, but she pulled away as if burned by his touch.

He didn’t push it but stopped her with another touch when they reached the edge of the woods. “Maureen, are you all right?”

She saw the uncertainty in his eyes, the concern. He was willing to take this all on himself, to accept the blame as his alone.

“I’m okay,” she said. “This wasn’t your fault.” He hesitated a moment longer, and she thought he was going to say something else. Then he nodded, and they moved on.

They found Rita sitting where they’d left her, surrounded by a group of ladies, most of whom Maureen didn’t know. Katie lay on her stomach next to Rita, sound asleep. The older woman sat with one hand idly caressing the child’s back.

Four sets of questioning eyes turned toward them as they approached the group. Maureen suppressed the urge to straighten her hair and check that all her clothes were in place. The unreality of the day was nothing compared with what had just happened. What she’d allowed to happen. There was no doubt that speculation about the two of them had already begun.

“Katie’s had a big day,” she said, trying to keep her sudden attack of nerves out of her voice. “I need to take her home and put her to bed.” As she moved to gather her daughter, Alan intervened.

“Here, let me.” He squatted next to the sleeping child and lifted her gently. Katie stirred slightly before settling comfortably in his arms.

Maureen’s face heated with embarrassment at the gesture. Not that she didn’t appreciate his thoughtfulness. It was just that she could almost hear the gears clicking in the minds of Rita and her friends. Speculation be damned. She knew tongues would be wagging all over Wyattville tomorrow. She and Alan would be declared an “item.”

“Thanks,” she finally said to him, because there was nothing else she could say. She started to gather the rest of her belongings, then stopped, realizing no one had said a word. They all just watched her.

“I think I’ll stay for a while,” Rita said, breaking the silence. “I’ll bring the blanket.”

“Will you be okay here by yourself?” Maureen asked, not knowing whether she should stay with Rita instead of running home. Would staying look less obvious?

“Of course,” Rita said. “Go on. Get that baby to bed.”

Relieved, Maureen nodded, and they left the little group sitting on the blanket under the tree.

Neither spoke as they made their way through town and up the hill to Rita’s house. Maureen opened the door and Alan stepped inside, heading straight upstairs with Katie nestled in his arms. She followed, expecting him to hand her daughter back to her before reaching the bedroom. But he didn’t. He went on into their room and carefully put Katie on the bed.

Katie half woke when he laid her down, a sweet cherub smile creeping across her face. A swell of emotion caught in Maureen’s throat as he leaned over and kissed her sleepy daughter.

“ ‘Night, princess,” he said ever so softly. Katie’s arms slipped around his neck and squeezed before she rolled over and fell back to sleep.

Shoving her warring emotions aside, Maureen moved up beside him to undress Katie. He stepped out of the way, but she could feel his presence close behind her, unnerving her. Her hands trembled and her vision blurred, but she finally managed to get her daughter out of her clothes and into pajamas. When she pulled the covers up around Katie’s chin and turned to leave, she nearly collided with him.

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Alan reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her forehead. “Are you?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” His closeness threatened her. Her chaotic thoughts dimmed with the remembered feel of him.

“I’m not,” he whispered, lowering his head to brush his lips across hers.

Maureen took a step backward and glanced quickly at Katie before looking at him again. “Not here, Alan.”

He smiled and dropped his hand to her cheek. Then he slid an arm around her shoulders and led her out of the room. She went with him but shifted out from underneath his arm once they were outside the bedroom.

“Go on down,” she said. “I want to clean up a little.”

He hesitated, his gaze sweeping her face before asking again, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Fine.” But she wasn’t. She needed a few minutes to herself, a few minutes to come to grips with the evening’s events. Then it struck her that maybe he, too, needed time alone. “Maybe you should go,” she felt compelled to say, although she wasn’t at all sure what she wanted him to do. Leave? Or stay?

Alan’s smile softened, and he dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be downstairs. Waiting.” Turning, he left her rooted to the spot, all her turbulent emotions ready to engulf her.

What had she done?

She closed her eyes and tried thinking rationally about the evening’s events. Instead, all she could do was remember the feel of him. His mouth on hers. His hands caressing her, holding her, lifting her so she could wrap her legs about his waist … The room swayed and she opened her eyes quickly. Steadying herself against the wall, she pushed the memories aside. It took a moment for her to regain her equilibrium and, with it, her ability to view the evening with more objectivity.

It didn’t take her long to clean up, to remove the evidence of her lapse by the river. A part of her performed the task swiftly, mechanically, as if it were an everyday occurrence. Another part of her watched in amazement, wondering what David would think. David, who’d been her husband and the only lover she’d ever known. David, whom she’d held off until their wedding night. David, who always said she was too reserved in their lovemaking, too conservative. What would he say now?

A twinge of guilt tightened around her heart. But she was honest with herself. Her regrets weren’t due to
what
had happened at the river but rather that it had happened with Alan Parks. Why had she never experienced such abandon with her husband? She couldn’t help but wonder if things would have turned out differently if she had. But they hadn’t. And now she was here, unable to ignore the way this stranger, this very dangerous stranger, aroused her.

Once she had finished cleaning up, she started toward the stairs, but hesitated before going down. She should just stay upstairs, she told herself. She could end this here and now by going into her room. She would crawl into bed next to Katie and ignore Alan and all the emotions he stirred within her.

But she couldn’t.

Even as the idea surfaced, her feet moved, seemingly of their own volition, down the stairs. She knew she couldn’t forget him. Not tonight. Alan drew her like a moth to a flame. And just as surely, she would end up burned. He would find out who she was and what she’d done, and then it would be over. She would have lost. He would turn her in, and she’d lose them both: Katie and Alan.

She had just reached the hall when Rita stepped into the house. “Is Katie asleep?” she asked, slipping out of her sweater.

“Yes,” Maureen answered, surprised that her voice sounded so normal. Alan joined them, momentarily drawing her attention away from Rita. To her surprise, he looked more handsome than ever, his copper eyes riveted on her with an intensity that left her breathless. With an effort, she dragged her thoughts back to Rita. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

Rita smiled and patted Maureen’s cheek. “These old bones aren’t what they used to be.” Then, turning and smiling broadly at Alan, she added, “I’ve had enough for one day. But you two go on. I’ll listen for Katie. Go back down to the festival. The fireworks will start soon, and the dancing will go on till midnight.”