Welcome Back to Apple Grove (18 page)

She was a quivering mass as he speared her again and again with his questing tongue. His name was a whispered benediction on her lips as he nibbled his way to the very heart of her. Cupping her backside, he pulled her closer and tongued her deep, drawing every ounce of moisture from her sheathe.

She screamed his name and shattered.

Grace sensed movement, but her eyes refused to focus. Her heart pounded and her breath snagged in her breast. She closed her eyes and felt the bed shift beneath his weight.

“You taste like wild honey,” he said slipping into her wet warmth. “A man could die happy with your essence on his lips.”

No one had ever said such things to her before. No one had ever craved her as Patrick seemed to crave her taste, her scent, her touch.

He moaned out loud when she cupped his cheeks in her hands and pistoned her hips to meet his every thrust.

***

“Again,” he chanted as a keening moan began in the back of her throat.

“I can’t—” The protest strangled on a gut-wrenching moan. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp in his arms.

“Not yet, baby.” He arched back and cupped her breasts in his hands, flicking and teasing them until she started to writhe beneath him again. “That’s it,” he crooned. “Come on, baby, I need you to come with me just once more.”

Her eyes opened, and her gaze locked on his. “Patrick, I—” She lifted her hips as he drove into her, the force of his thrust, moving the bed into the wall. The sound and her body rippling with shock wave after shock wave sent him over the edge into madness.

He couldn’t move but was afraid he was crushing her. “Grace?”

“Mmmm.”

“Look at me?”

“Can’t,” she breathed. “Too tired.”

“Baby, did I hurt you?”

She opened one eye, closed it, and softly smiled. “You destroyed me.”

Pulling her against his heart, he rolled until she was on top. “You devastate me, Grace.”

She sighed and he felt her body go lax. “Grace?”

The sound of his lover’s whisper-soft snore warmed his heart. Since she couldn’t hear him, he rasped, “I’m keeping you.”

She shivered as he ran his fingertips along the length of her spine and over the generous curve of her backside. The urge to bite her there was hard to suppress, but he didn’t want to wake her, so he continued to stroke and caress her until he drifted off to sleep.

A long while later, he felt her stirring and shifted so they were lying like two spoons in a drawer. Nestled with her sweet backside in his lap, he pressed a hand to her belly and fell asleep wondering what it would be like falling asleep with her like this every night.

“Keeping you,” he mumbled.

“Hmm?” she murmured, sounding as if she was about to rouse from the deep sleep she’d been in.

He kept one hand low on her belly while the other lazily stroked up and down between her breasts, relaxing her until she quieted once more in his arms. His breathing slowed to match hers as he let go and fell back to sleep.

Grace woke to darkness and the overwhelming sense of belonging as Patrick’s arm curved protectively around her. She shifted and he grumbled in his sleep, tightening his grip on her. Pleasure curled inside of her. Snuggling in his arms, she accepted the fact that there was no going back.

She linked her fingers with Patrick’s, wondering what lie ahead for them. Grace was a planner and liked things neat and tidy, organized in color-coded spreadsheets. But she had no control over his work schedule, so she set her ingrained need to organize aside—for now.

When Patrick shifted and rolled, she drew in a breath and had no choice but to roll with him—he had yet to let go of her. Even in sleep, the man was fitting her into his life. He was on his back and she was now on top of him. If he could make room for her as he slept, he could probably make room for her in his busy life as a firefighter. She had already made the first step toward fitting him into her life by spending her two weeks off in Apple Grove, closer to where Patrick lived.

The time they’d already spent together—in bed and out—had her thinking about white picket fences and forever. She’d always thought she was a city girl at heart. But as the sounds of the street below echoed, she already missed the birdcalls she’d heard at her family’s house just that morning—she was a country girl.

Maybe there were more changes ahead for her. She needed to make a new list of goals. That’s where she’d find the answers she sought. Grace imagined Patrick’s work schedule highlighted in red and smiled; hers would be green—the overlap would be brownish-purple, but it could work. She relaxed, realizing that her mind and the unsettled business of work schedules had roused her from a deep sleep.

Envisioning the spreadsheet eased the tension she’d been feeling—well, that and the heat from Patrick’s body. The man was a veritable furnace, putting off an amazing amount of heat. Placing a hand over his heart and her head in the crook of his arm, she laughed softly as one arm hooked around her waist and he toyed with the ends of her hair.

“I guess you’re awake too,” he rumbled, stroking the tips of his fingers to the underside of her ear and along her neck.

Grace closed her eyes as the deep baritone resonated beneath her hand and cheek. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He slid his fingers along the top of her shoulder and down the length of her arm. “I started to get hungry.” His clever fingers slipped around to toy with her breast. “Are you hungry, Grace?” His breath was warm against her ear, his hands heating her skin as they traveled from her neck to her knees, gently skimming, teasing devastatingly.

She sighed and his hands moved to cup her backside and the words got caught in her throat. Tipping up her head, her gaze met his and she realized he was waiting for her to answer. Good Lord, she thought. A drop-dead gorgeous hunk of man wanted to make love to her—again—but was waiting for her to say yes.

Contemplating the fact that he was a considerate lover, she almost missed the glint of mischief in his eyes. He chuckled and that’s when she noticed the gleam of amused arousal swirling in the depths of his caramel-colored eyes. The combination captivated her as he lowered his mouth to hers. Taking his time, he kissed her deeply, tracing the rim of her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers. Pinpricks of awareness, coupled with desperate desire, erupted wherever his hands molded and his lips touched.

“I have to find out,” he murmured.

Before she could ask, he changed his handhold, slipped out from beneath her, and bent to scoop her in his arms. “Taste test,” he said, carrying her to the kitchen.

Excitement tingled beneath her skin as he set her in the middle of the table. It was cool…and she was not. She shifted from cheek to cheek, wondering what he intended to do. “Patrick?”

He snagged the cake from the countertop and a fork from the drawer. Moving the chair out of his way, he leaned close. “Which is sweeter?” he asked, lifting a forkful of cake to her lips, silently urging her to take a bite.

Unable to deny him, she opened her mouth and let him feed her. She chewed, savoring the flavor—it had been nearly a year since she’d had whiskey cake. He placed the cake on the table by her hip as she said, “It’s deli—”

His tongue swept into her mouth as his hands unerringly followed the curve of her spine, pulling her to the edge of the tabletop. The kiss was openly carnal. Never had anything she’d tasted before compared to the lush flavor of his kiss.

Her heart raced as skin met skin, heat met heat. He eased back, leaving her on fire and uncertain. He lifted a forkful to his mouth, chewed, and slowly smiled. “It’s good,” he said, leaning close enough to circle the tip of his tongue on first one breast and then the other. “But not as delectable as you.”

Words were no longer necessary as she looped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. His lethal lips and talented tongue feasted on her while her thoughts swirled and her head spun.

When Patrick lifted the fork to her lips, she shook her head. “Not yet.” It was time for her to take back control of their lovemaking. She slipped off the table and urged him to sit.

He hesitated and actually pouted. “But I didn’t get to Point Pleasant.”

She almost choked on the mouthful of cake. “Where?”

“It’s a town on the Jersey shore,” he said, grabbing ahold of her hips. “And where you keep your wild honey, just for me.”

The blood rushed through her veins as her heart began to pound. “No fair,” she rasped, moving between his legs. “I haven’t tasted you yet.”

Every muscle in his body tensed in response to her words. Power sang through her body as she bent her head and let her lips first and then her tongue test the strength and sensitivity of his pecs. “I read an article that said a man’s nipples don’t have as much feeling as a woman’s.” She flicked the tip of her tongue across one and then the other. His breath rushed out at her touch.

“Maybe their research was flawed,” she said, kneading his shoulders, trailing her hands down to his powerful biceps—delighting in the way they tensed beneath her fingertips. Leaning close, she licked a path from his breastbone to his navel.

“Grace,” he growled.

She lifted her head and met the intensity of his gaze with determination—to make his head spin and his heart leap. Going down on her knees, she caressed his quads before grasping his hips.

“My turn.” With a featherlight caress, she traced the length and breadth of him with her tongue, awed by his strength and size.

“I want—” Patrick’s words ended on a strangled groan as she took him in her mouth and suckled him, her hands in constant motion as her tongue and lips moved over him.

He speared his hands in her hair. The gentle way he eased himself free added one more reason why she was not going to let this man walk out of her life. A look was all it took before she was once again in his arms. As he strode to the bedroom, his hands and lips spoke volumes. As he placed her in the middle of his bed and opened the drawer to his bedside table, she knelt on the bed and reached for his hand.

“Let me.” When she’d rolled the protection over him, he knelt in front of her and swept his hands from her hips to the undersides of her breasts, teasing her to distraction. One callused hand moved slowly down her spine. He buried himself to the hilt as his big hands grabbed hold of her backside and held her tight against him.

She moved her hands to mirror his, hanging on to his glutes as she pulsated around him. Tilting her head back, she saw the raw desire in his eyes and knew he was holding on to his control by a thread.

“Go with it,” she urged. “Let me watch you come,” she whispered.

The veins in his throat stood out as he threw his head back and moaned out her name. His body looked as if he was stretched out on the rack, with each and every muscle tensed. He answered with a thrust of his hips and a growl deep in his throat. His hands vised against her butt cheeks as he gave in and let his orgasm take him.

***

She’d wrung every last drop from him. Spent, he tumbled them to the bed with one hand cupping the back of her head and the other her backside. “Need sleep.” He couldn’t form more than a few words at a time. She’d destroyed his control with a look and taken him to paradise with her lips and tongue.

But it wasn’t just the way she’d teased him to arousal, he realized; it was the look in her eyes and the reverence in her touch that had him nearly coming in her mouth. He’d rushed the normal boundaries he placed on relationships, unable to resist tasting her honeyed essence, but he never expected her to respond in kind.

When he could finally speak again, he told her, “Give me a moment, and I’ll return the favor.” He needed her to fall asleep as fulfilled as he was.

“You don’t have to—” He covered her lips with his and let his hands do the talking, stroking then delving deep into her sheathe. She came apart in his arms moments later. She’d been that close to climaxing when she’d urged him to let go, putting his pleasure before hers.

A beautiful, giving woman. How the hell had he managed to find her after giving up on his search for a woman to spend the rest of his life loving? Slowly, slipping his fingers free, he wrapped his arms around her and let sleep take him.

***

Morning came too soon as the annoying strains of his alarm woke him. He reached for the offending object and smacked at it until it stopped. Moving back to the middle of the bed, he wasn’t surprised to see Grace awake, but he was uneasy with the directness of her gaze. What was going on in that beautiful head of hers?

And then she smiled and everything was right with his world once again. “Morning, handsome.”

He laughed. “Morning, gorgeous.”

She kissed his shoulder and slipped out of bed. “I’m hungry and I desperately want a hot shower.”

“Oh yeah?” He followed her down the hallway. “We could save water and shower together.”

She laughed and shook her head at him. “You go get the first shower. I’ll start the coffee. Do you have eggs?”

He grabbed for her hand and tugged, tumbling her against him. “So was that a no?”

She reached up, traced the line of his jaw, and tapped the tip of her finger on his bottom lip. “I’ll never get to work on time and neither will you if I said anything but no.”

He kissed her tenderly. “So it’s not no because you don’t want to?”

She was laughing as she looked up at him. “Go get a shower before I change my mind and go back to bed and let you make the coffee and—”

His mouth cut off what she was going to say with a tender kiss. “You’re not hardwired that way, Grace. That’s why we’re going to be amazing together—neither am I.”

When she melted in his arms, he just had to kiss her again. With a friendly pat on her backside, he let her go and walked into the bathroom. “I’m going to need half a pot just to get my brain in gear this morning.”

“Maybe I won’t drink the whole pot if you answer a question.”

He stuck his head out of the bathroom door. “What’s the question?”

She hesitated, and that’s when he noticed her expression was unreadable. “Did I dream last night?”

He walked toward her and wrapped her in his arms. Holding tight, he rasped, “I’m the one who should be asking you that because, baby, you are a dream come true.” Sensing she needed to be held, he waited until she sighed. “We’re going to have to talk about things soon,” he warned, letting her go.

“What kind of things?”

He bent down to put the bath mat on the floor by the tub. When he stood up and looked over his shoulder, he caught the expression on her face. “Were you staring at my butt?”

She flushed a bright pink. “Guilty.”

He laughed. Taking pity on her, he finally answered her original question, “The you-and-me kind.”

“Oh.” She backed away from him and practically ran down the hall, leaving him to wonder if she was frightened of the prospect, or if she was having trouble sticking to her plan not to join him in the shower.

He preferred thinking it was the latter, so he did while he let the hot water ease the tension between his shoulder blades. Trying not to think about Grace while he lathered up was definitely a challenge. The woman had opened her heart to him in so many ways last night. He didn’t plan to take advantage of her or her giving heart.

As he stared at his reflection, deciding not to take a razor to his face, he felt his earlier energy drain out of him, leaving him weak. “Blood sugar needs a boost,” he told the face staring at him. “Gotta have protein.”

The angel in his kitchen was humming off-key, adding one more endearing quality to savor. Instead of pulling her into his arms, he pulled out a chair. “I’ve got this little problem I forgot to tell you about.”

She handed him a mug of coffee. “Sounds serious.”

“It is and it isn’t,” he told her.

“OK,” she said, studying him closely—too close for comfort. “Looks like it’s serious right now.”

When he didn’t drink any coffee, her look morphed into one of concern. Before she could work herself up, he told her, “If I overexert myself and don’t eat right, my blood sugar gets out of whack and my energy takes a dive.”

She turned off the burner and scooped fluffy scrambled eggs onto his plate. “Eat,” she said, handing him a fork. “No caffeine until you’ve finished every bite.” Damned if the woman didn’t take his mug back.