Unexpected Bride (23 page)

And he took care of her. His hands moved down her hips, slipping off her lace panties. Then he settled her onto the cool wooden chair.

"Clayton..." Before she could protest, he dropped to his knees before her. He kissed her first, a deep, penetrating kiss, his tongue slowly and thoroughly stroking hers.

Then he moved his hands along her face, her neck, her shoulders and over her breasts to skim down her sides to her hips and thighs. He lifted her legs over his shoulders. then made love to her with his mouth.

Abby leaned against the hard back of the chair, her body turning to liquid, as with his hands and mouth he brought her a pleasure she'd never reached before. She laced her fingers through his thick hair and moaned his name on her shattering release.

His control snapped as she overwhelmed him. His hands shaking, he shed his pants and boxers. He had to have her. Now. Consumed with desperate need for her, he nearly forgot the condom.

Her eyes wide, she watched him sheathe himself. Then he sat down, lifted her off her chair and settled her onto his lap.

"Clayton, I don't know if we fit."

She was so tight, so hot. He pushed inside her heat.

She bit her lip, her face flushed.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked with concern, stifling a groan as he forced himself to be still.

She shook her head. "Oh, no..." Pleasure poured over him as she came.

"We fit." He'd never expected to say those words about Abby Hamilton. But she fit him. Perfectly.
She
was perfect. He moved, raising his hips as she wriggled on his lap. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

She lifted her mouth to his, kissing him deeply. Her tongue played with his, tangling.

Clayton moved his hands between them, cupping a breast and flicking his thumb over her nipple as he moved his other hand lower.

She threw her head back and shuddered. This time he came along with her, his fulfillment spilling from his body as he shouted her name. She collapsed against his chest, her head on his shoulder, her silky hair brushing his cheek. He'd never felt so...connected to another person. So complete. "Abby..."

She stiffened, then scrambled off his lap. "Oh, my God," she gasped as she grabbed her dress from the floor. "It's so late!"

"It's not even dark yet," Clayton pointed out, marveling at the way the sun, shining through the high windows of the office, painted her skin—all her bare skin—a deep gold. He groaned as she pulled the dress over her head. "You're not leaving."

"Clayton, I have to go. I have responsibilities."

Yes, he knew about those. He had too many, and now he had two more. Abby and Lara. Not because she'd asked him to assume any responsibility for them, but because Clayton automatically assumed responsibility for the people he loved. Panic pressed against his heart at the realization, paralyzing him so that he couldn't move. He could only watch her walk away.

He loved her.

"You called my mother?" Clayton asked as she walked back into the office, sliding her cell phone into her purse. "What did you tell her?"

He thought she'd left, until he'd come out of his private bathroom and overheard her using the phone in the reception area. Talking to his mom. He could only imagine his matchmaking mother's reaction to Abby's call. She was probably planning his wedding now. Panic pressed on his chest, stealing away his breath like one of Abby's smiles.

She smiled that sassy smile that had always infuriated him, and her blue eyes sparkled mischievously. "I told her the same thing I used to make Colleen and Molly tell her when we were goofing around all night—that I was sleeping over at Brenna's."

Goofing around again. Was that all she thought they were doing? How he wished it were. He didn't want to love
her.
He didn't want to love
anyone.
It wasn't in his plan.

"But you're not sleeping over at Brenna's?" he asked.

"No."

'Then, if you're not going back to my mother's house and you're not going to Brenna's. where are you sleeping, Abby?"

She reached out, linking their fingers together. "Your bed."

She fought to keep the playful grin plastered on her face, not wanting to spook him as she'd spooked herself. When he'd held her in his arms, bringing her pleasure she'd never known until now, she hadn't just lost control of her desire. She'd lost control of her heart, as well.

She'd fallen in love with Clayton McClintock. The realization had scared her so badly she'd felt as if she had to run. But she hadn't gotten far. The foyer. Then, berating herself for being a coward, she'd stopped herself and turned around.

Although his fingers were entwined with hers, he didn't say a word. Maybe he didn't want her. But she wanted him. He stood beside her, so close that she could lean over and kiss his bare chest.

He wore only his pants, low on his lean hips. Her blood rushed through her veins, humming in her ears as desire for his kiss, his touch, consumed her.

Biting her bottom lip to control the urge to tremble, she tipped back her head and stared up into Clayton's face. His eyes serious and dark, he studied her in return.

If he sent her away...

If he told her what they'd just done was all he wanted from her, he would shatter her—she, who'd been so strong for so long, had never been so weak and vulnerable. "Clayton?"

Their hands clasped, his fingers tightened around hers as if he intended to never let her go. "Abby, I..."

She didn't expect a declaration of love. She doubted Clayton could feel about her the way she felt about him. And Clayton, being Clayton, to whom honesty and responsibility meant everything, undoubtedly wanted to make his intentions clear. For example, that he had no intentions other than to lease her his empty office space.

Heat rushed to her face. She'd made a mistake, such a foolish, humiliating mistake. She pulled her hand free of his. "Oh, now I'm the one who made assumptions I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have invited myself..."

"Into my bed?" he teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

She smiled, happy he had some mischief in him. "Too presumptuous of me?"

"Abby Hamilton," he murmured, as he toyed with a curl at the curve of her cheek. "You were always in such a hurry."

"I told you I stopped speeding..."

"Maybe in cars, but you're still rushing through life."

Was that his way of telling her that she was pushing too hard? That she wanted more from him than he could give?

He brushed a kiss, whisper-soft, across her lips. "We have all night." He led her back to the table, holding out her chair as if they were dining in an elegant restaurant instead of an empty office.

She struggled to control her emotions, then settled onto the chair. "Yes, we have all night." she agreed. Probably just tonight. "And your mother would have a fit if she knew we'd let this food go to waste."

Salad with bits of fruit and grilled chicken filled a large bowl on the table, while rolls sat on small plates, butter melted into the flaky layers.

He reached for the wine bottle. "Let me pour you a glass."

"I don't drink."

He shifted the bottle from the rim of her glass and looked at her thoughtfully. The color that had flushed her face earlier drained away. "You've been gone a long time, Abby. There's a lot I don't know about you."

And if he didn't know her,
really
know her, he couldn't love her. He'd only imagined the emotion filling his heart.

"I never drank," she said. "You know
why."

Sympathy had him reaching for her hand and squeezing it. She was afraid of being like her mother. "I know what people used to say about your driving..."

Her chin lifted. "They thought I was a drunk, too, and since I came back with Lara, I can guess what else they think about me."

He couldn't begin to imagine how hard it had been for her to come back to Cloverville. No wonder she'd waited eight long years. "You're nothing like your mother, Abby. The town knows that. And I know that."

She shuddered. "I certainly hope I'm not. I wish I were like your mother."

"A meddling matchmaker?" he teased.

"No."

"You're saying she isn't?"

"Oh, I know she is," she admitted with a laugh. "But she's also a wonderful, loving mother."

"You are, too," he insisted. "Lara is so sweet, so smart. That's because of you."

Abby shook her head, unwilling to accept his compliment. Would she accept his love if he found the strength to offer her his heart? Could he take that big a risk? Could he change his entire plan and make room for a wife, for a child?

Moisture glistened in her eyes, but she blinked away the hint of tears. "She deserves more."

A father? Despite what she'd told him that day outside the hardware store, was Abby looking for a daddy for her daughter?

"She deserves a home and more people than just me to love her."

She did want a father for Lara, which wasn't in Clayton's plan. He'd wanted to put aside the emotional ties and concentrate solely on business. There he could succeed without the risk of pain.

"You're awake."

Abby blinked her eyes open, then squinted against the early-morning light streaming through the blinds on Clayton's bedroom window. This room was as stark as the bedroom of his youth: the outside wall redbrick, the three others white and bare. A mission-style four-poster dominated the room, as Clayton had dominated her mind since she'd found him waiting for her at the airport. "Only just."

Lips slid over her shoulder, raising goose bumps on her skin. "You're cold," a deep voice murmured.

"No.. ."As the blanket slipped down her body, she grabbed at it, knotting her fingers in the soft wool. But Clayton was stronger. He pulled the coverings free of her body, leaving her lying naked in the middle of his bed. "Clayton..."

Muscles that Abby hadn't known she had ached. She'd never been made love to so thoroughly before. She'd never been made love to; her few experiences had been only about sex.

His lips and hands skimmed over her body, heating her skin. A gasp of pleasure slipped from between her lips as he caressed her. Because he was a generous man, she'd known he'd be a generous lover. But she'd had no idea how much he could give her.

Now she wanted him to take. She pushed him onto his back, then swung her leg across his hips so that she straddled him. Her breath caught, desire flooding her as his erection nudged her backside. But this time wasn't about her, unlike all the other times they'd made love last night. This time was for him. Her lips clung to his before sliding over the hard, stubbled line of his square jaw. Then she nibbled the straining cords of his neck.

He groaned. Until the nip of her teeth against his skin, he'd thought he'd been dreaming. Awakening with Abby, naked in his rumpled sheets, felt like a dream. One he'd had so long he'd been convinced it would always go unfulfilled.

Like the dream, the plan, he had had since he was a little boy visiting his father's office, of one day running the insurance agency with his dad. Instead, he'd had to manage alone. He'd thought he'd live his personal life the same way he had his professional one. Alone. Until now. Until Abby Hamilton made love to him.