Chapter 4
Rose
I’m not sure what theprotocol is for turning up on someone’s doorstep a month after a one-night stand. Perhaps I should have called.
I stare at the darkened windows of the cabin, and my heart sinks into my shoes. There’s no fire burning in the hearth, spreading its cozy warmth through the cabin. No shadow of my mountain man filling the tiny space with his huge, compelling presence. No used teacups or squashed cushions. Even the tartan rug is nowhere to be seen.
There’s no trace that the night I had here ever really happened at all.
I climb back into my car and rest my head back against the seat. Tears spring hot and unbidden into my eyes.
There is a trace, more than a trace, that what we had, what we did, was real. I press my hand over the burning sensation right in the middle of my chest.
My head won’t let it go. How right it felt as we came together. How safe I felt wrapped in his arms.
My body won’t let it go. How he made my body sing. How he brought me to climax over and over and over again during that long, dark night.
My heart won’t let it go. How I felt when his glittering black eyes met mine. How his smile touched my soul.
I turn the key and the car growls to life.
It was a dream. Nothing more.
Now back to reality.
I throw the car into reverse, looking over my shoulder to make sure the way is clear. The sudden motion makes me dizzy, and I stop the car. Waves of nausea well in my gut. I shut my eyes, gulping down the hot, acrid saliva pooling at the back of my mouth, willing the world to stop spinning.
No joy. I barely make it out of the car before the bile rises, scorching my throat. I stumble from the car and throw my hands against the wooden wall of the cabin, grateful for its solid support as I gag and choke as my body attempts to expel my stomach’s contents into the unexpected sanctuary of Murray’s well-kept flowerbed. The brightly colored petals blur into a kaleidoscope of swirling brilliance before my watering eyes, and a fresh wave of nausea threatens. Beads of sweat trickle down my spine.
I’m so preoccupied with wondering how bad the next bout is going to be that I don’t realize he is there until I feel his hands on my shoulders.
“Rose?”
“Hi,” I croak as another unstoppable stream bubbles into my throat.
He pulls my hair back and rubs my back gently until the retching stops.
“I didn’t think you were home,” I mutter, pulling a tissue from my pocket and wiping my mouth. As I raise my eyes, I realize that he isn’t wearing a shirt. The thin sheen of sweat coating his chest defines every muscle, making his pecs and his abs gleam.
Like they needed any help catching the eye. Despite my discomfort, my hands ache to touch him, to run my fingers over his torso, rising over every ridge and dipping into every crevice, curling into the dark hair...
He looks down at me, his thick black brows knitted into a frown. “I was out back when I heard—well, I wasn’t sure what the hell it was...”
“Sorry.”
Embarrassment burns in my cheeks.
“Don’t apologize,” he says gently. He clasps my shoulders in his huge hands and pulls me towards him. As he wraps me into his arms, I fold against his bare chest, pressing my temple against the soothing heat of his skin.
“I have to say,” he says wryly, “of all the people I expected to find throwing up in my rosebushes, I did not expect it to be you.”
I want to tell him that I didn’t expect to be throwing up in his rosebushes either, to laugh it off, but it wouldn’t be strictly true. I haven’t been feeling quite myself recently.
“Why didn’t you call?” he murmurs against my hair.
“I...I...I didn’t...”
There it is again. That feeling. All of my carefully built walls crumbling under his dark gaze.
“I didn’t think it was real,” I mumble.
“Real? Oh, sweetheart, it was definitely real,” he growls. He tugs my hair lightly, tilting my head back. He runs his thumb up the delicate skin of my exposed throat, sending shivers of pleasure rolling down my spine, then presses his mouth to mine in a kiss that leaves me breathless.
“See, that’s what I mean,” I grumble as we break apart, panting.
“Eh?”
“Exactly that. How can that be real? How can you be real? How can you making me feel like that be real? How can someone like you wanting someone like me be real?”
He puts his hands on my hips and stares straight into my eyes. Into my soul.
“Rose Wallace, I will not hear any more words like that from your lips.” He sweeps his hands down over my bum cheeks, pulling my body hard to his. He digs his fingers into the softness of my arse.
“My little mouse...” Like last time, he stretches out the ooh, bringing a small smile to my lips. “You are perfect. And if you grant me the privilege of exploring your delectable body and bringing you pleasure, then that makes me the luckiest guy in the world. I will never tire of talking to you, of sharing your mind,” he says, his dark eyes locked on mine. His hand brushes my crotch, sending flames scorching through my body. “And I will never tire of making you come.”
“Murray,” I whisper, panting against the rising desire swelling through my body.
* **
The rickety couch groansas we fall into its squashy depths. The buttons pop on my sundress as he rips it, exposing my body to his gaze and his hands. Those hands! Whatever divine being is responsible for the magic of those hands, I owe them a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid.
They are huge, and gentle, and precise. They have a rhythm all their own. I writhe as he pushes my thighs apart, plunging two thick fingers deep into my cleft. His hot mouth blazes a trail over my breast to my nipple, and my breath catches in my throat as he rasps his tongue over the hardened pebble of my lace-imprisoned nipple.
The first pangs of orgasm are shimmering through my lower belly.
“Murray,” I groan.
Without breaking his assault on my nipple, he shakes off his shorts, letting his cock spring free.
“What do you need, Rose?” he asks, his voice heavy with desire. “Tell me.” He slows his fingers, drawing them slowly from my body, then easing them gently back into my tunnel. My back arches at the exquisite torture.
“I need you inside me. Now.”
He draws his fingers again, a teasing smile on his face.
“Fuck me, Murray,” I growl. “Fuck me. Now. Hard.”
He roars and pulls me to him, covering my body with his. I grip his biceps as he eases his huge cock into me, filling me to my limit. His mouth finds mine as he thrusts, building a rhythm that will undo us both. My thoughts scatter into a million pieces as my body rises.
“Rose,” he breathes against my mouth as the pulse of his climax carries me into my own bone-melting release.
* * *
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I take the cup of tea from Murray’s hand, trying hard to hide the fact that I’m trembling. I’m not sure whether it is from the mind-blowing sex or what I know I need to do now.
“I’ll be fine,” I mutter.
“You look a bit...green,” he persists. “Dodgy breakfast?”
I didn’t have any breakfast.
I was too nervous.
He continues, searching for something that will break the awkward silence. “Can I get you something? A biscuit? Ginger biscuits are good for that sort of thing. Or rich tea,” he says with a grin.
I shake my head, ignoring my stomach’s hitch at the suggestion.
He disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a hot facecloth. I accept without demur, and he watches as I run it over my face.
“Better?”
“Much, thanks,” I nod. “So, what were you doing out back, before I...er...arrived?”
He grins and plonks himself down onto the couch beside me. It creaks in protest. “I was chopping wood.”
“Hmm, chopping wood. Needing to get that fire going? Cozy night in planned?” There is a bitter edge to my voice, but I can’t help it.
“No. I, er, find it relaxing. Helps me think.”
“What were you thinking about?”
While you were chopping wood out back, with your shirt off.
“You,” he replies.
“Me?”
“Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about you, Rose. That night. It was...it was incredible. It was...I don’t even have the words.”
“Then why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t want to put pressure on you,” he says simply. “I wanted it to be your decision. But...”
My heart sinks. “But.” I echo.
He sighs. “I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. There’s something...you just hit me right here.” He puts his hand over his heart. “I want you. I need you. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, making you laugh, making love to you, exploring the world with you, anything you want. My heart knows. My soul knows. This is real.”
I reach out and twine my fingers over his where they are pressed to his chest. His heart thuds under our hands.
I raise my eyes to his. “This is real for me too. But...”
“But...” he repeats, his brow furrowing.
“There are no buts in how I feel about you. But there is something I need to tell you.”
He looks at me. “Go on.”
“I’m pregnant.”
I watch his face as my words sink in. The furrow on his brow deepens for a second as he processes, then his face breaks into a huge grin.
“Really? Truly? You are pregnant? Rose!” he exclaims. He gathers me into his arms. I look up into his shining eyes.
“You are happy?”
“I am thrilled.” Then a cloud passes over his face. “Are you? Happy, I mean?”
The dam inside me creaks. The news I never thought I’d hear, the news that had paralyzed my fingers each time I lifted my phone to call him, the news that I thought would end us before we really got going.
“Yes,” I nod, hot tears spilling down my cheeks.
“Happy tears?” he asks, wiping them away with his thumbs.
“Kind of. I thought...I thought that...” I look down. “I thought I might have to do this alone.”
“No, never,” he growls. He puts his thumb under my chin, lifting my eyes to his. He places his hand gently over my belly. “I love you, Rose Wallace. And I love our baby. You’ll never have to face anything alone ever again.”
He bends his head, pressing his lips to mine. I melt against his body, losing myself in the sweetness of his kiss. But there’s something missing.
“Are you holding back on me?” I scold.
“No,” he mumbles. “Well,maybe just a bit.”
“Give me everything, Murray Walsh,” I order.
He looks at me. “Is it...?”
“Safe? Absolutely.”
Relief washes across his face.
“Then your wish is my command, ma’am.”
He scoops me into his arms and carries me to his bed.