Chapter 6 #2
Covering her body with his, he slid into her tight warmth and just stayed that way, his heart pounding from his chest. Lowering his forehead to hers, he closed his eyes and just breathed her in.
Nothing had ever felt so wonderful, so amazing, so damn right.
Raising his head, he took her lips in a kiss that brought the tears to her eyes.
The climax was astounding, causing her to arch towards him. It crashed through her body with the power of a sledgehammer, leaving her breathless and stunned. Her arms came around his neck and clung, her fingers digging into the denseness of his hair.
It did not take long for him to follow. With a deep groan, he emptied, his body shuddering, skin clammy with moisture, heart racing. He collapsed on top of her, winded and drained, the breath whistling through his teeth.
It took several minutes for him to even work up the effort to move. Sliding his body off her, he brought her up against him, fingers lazily running up and down her back. They stayed that way, the silence lengthening and not altogether uncomfortable.
"I should go."
Tilting his head, he met her gaze.
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I'm sure you want to get some sleep and I should--"
"Stay." He hauled her on top of him, the chuckle turning into a groan when she brushed against him. "You should stay. We're not done."
To prove it, he drove into her. A gasp escaped her, body bowing as he filled her to the brim.
"Far from it." He whispered and lifted his body to feast on her breasts.
*****
She woke to the strange feel of a man's leg trapping hers and his face buried between her breasts.
At first she had no idea why she was in a strange bed, when the realization came flooding back.
Not daring to move in case she woke him, Melanie took stock of the room.
It was clearly a masculine one with sandalwood walls and large antique furnishings.
A heavily carved armoire towered towards the concave ceiling.
The closet was so big, it had compartments, with dozens of shelves and a separate section for shoes.
The man had enough clothing to outfit a small department store, she thought in amazement.
A tan leather sofa curved around a highly polished table.
At one section of the wall, the fireplace was stocked with peat as if just waiting for the fire to get started. It was a lovely room and suited him to perfection.
She stirred slightly and that was enough to have him lifting his head. It was a long time since she had woken up in bed with a man and the shyness had her lowering her lashes and had her wondering what he saw when he looked at her.
"Hi." His voice was husky with sleep and something else.
"It's morning."
"So it is." The amusement colored his tone. "Hungry?"
"I should be going."
"Not yet."
"Look--"
"I want to cook you breakfast and thought we could go sailing." He had made love to her three times, and it was not nearly enough. He wanted to keep her here with him and was amazed at how quickly the passion had escalated.
Pushing back hairs clinging to her cheek, he brushed a kiss over her lips.
"I must look a wreck." She fumbled the words out and wished she could take them back when he laughed softly.
"Fishing for compliments, darling?"
The endearment had her going still, but he never noticed as he was too busy trailing his lips over her cheek.
"You look beautiful. Tousled and sexy--" He peppered the words with kisses. "Wanton--"
"Seriously?"
He was igniting fires inside her again. The man had wrung her dry last night, letting her think there was nothing left.
"Hmm. Delectable." He was nibbling on her bottom lip and driving all sensible thoughts from her head. "Delectable. I'm running out of adjectives." He was using the tip of his tongue to ease the tiny bites. "Addictive."
He swallowed her moan when his lips closed over hers. Sliding on top of her, he entered her moist warmth and felt his body jerking in response as she closed around him.
*****
"You cook." She murmured, watching as he sliced the ingredients to make a Spanish omelet. She had offered to help, but he had waved that away and told her to sit and decorate his wide blueish-gray marble counter.
His kitchen sent feelings of envy shimmering through her. Everything was spic and span. The kitchen itself was large, overlooking a densely populated wooded area, with a narrow walking trail and flowers blooming in profusion.
A small dining table was tucked beneath the large bay window. The appliances were ultra-modern gleaming silver. The chairs arranged artfully around the counter were cushioned and as soft as butter. Pots hung from the arched ceiling, giving it a homely look. It was her dream kitchen.
"I do." He glanced up at her and had to smile.
She was wearing one of his shirts, a pale gold colored one that almost enveloped her slender frame.
They had showered together. He had watched her trying to put some order to her natural hair and chuckled in delight at her surprise when he took the brush from her and finished the job.
Now her hair was in one thick braid. With her face scrubbed of makeup, she looked like a teenager.
"Mother insisted that I learned." He turned to put the skillet on, putting the fire on low. "It came in handy when I went out of the country to go to college." He came around and turned the stool, so she was facing him. "You look better in the shirt than I ever did."
"I'm sure that's not true." She liked the scent of him clinging to her skin.
"I should know." Cupping her face, he bent his head and rubbed his lips on hers. "I cannot get enough of you."
"It will pass."
He laughed softly. "You're quite the cynic, aren't you?"
"Just keeping it real." She lifted her hands and wrapped them around his neck. The kiss deepened, softened and had desire humming.
"The pot."
"Hmm?"
"You're burning the oil." She pushed him away and had to take several deep breaths to steady herself. The man was lethal, she thought wryly.
Stealing one last kiss, he went to rescue the pot.
"Did you always know you wanted to go into the family business?"
He nodded, tossing the ingredients expertly.
Very soon, the stunning aroma filled the air and had her mouth watering.
"My favorite board game was monopoly when I was only six.
" He flashed her a smile. "I used to play with my dad and was very competitive.
" Moving the pot from the heat, he went to bread basket and popped four slices into the toaster. The coffee was already percolating.
"By the time I was eight, I was buying and selling play properties." Going into the fridge, he took out a platter of fruits. Fat purple grapes, bright red strawberries and some blackberries. He plated the omelet and fruits and rescued the toast.
"Butter or marmalade?"
"Butter."
He slathered it over the toast and added it to the plate. Sliding it to her, he grabbed cups and poured the coffee.
"How about you?" Bringing his plate, he settled on a stool beside her.
"What?"
"Aside from the charity work, what else are you interested in?"
She cut into the golden brown omelet and avoided his quizzical stare. "I'm trained as an admin."
"Is that so?"
"Yes." At least with this, she could be honest. "I did business in college."
"Do you help with the clerical side of things at the shelter?"
"Something like that." She was uncomfortable with the topic and decided to change it. "I read somewhere that you bought a hotel and had it demolished."
He nodded as he picked up his coffee and took a sip. So, she didn't want to talk about herself, which was a novelty and highly appealing. The women he was accustomed to in his circle, could not stop talking about their favorite subject.
"The structure was weak and the electrical work a joke.
It made better sense to tear down the entire thing.
It was located in a prime area, which was why we bought it in the first place.
" He glanced at her. "Not everything you read about me is true.
" He added quietly. "I'm not some ruthless businessman out to get rid of the working man.
We are fair in our dealings with people; that's something my father instilled in me.
The Lancashire name is something to be proud of. I would never risk sullying it."
She was surprised that he felt the need to explain himself to her.
"You don't have to try and convince me."
"I just wanted to set the record straight. How's the meal?"
"Delicious. What else can you cook?"
"I make a mean chicken Kiev." He grinned at the look on her lovely face.
"We had a Russian chef at one point, and he taught me some things.
" Leaning over, he used the tip of his finger to wipe away a crumb.
"I grew up with an army of servants around me.
" Settling back in his chair, he picked up his cup.
"When I started living on my own, I decided one will do.
I have a housekeeper who comes in every day.
She's been with the family since I was a child and is very territorial.
" He glanced at the things he had dumped in the sink. "We should probably clean up."
It amused her to realize that this giant in the business industry was afraid of an employee.
"She must be terrifying."
He laughed at her skeptical tone. "Imelda is from Spain and is absolutely someone to be afraid of. She used to haul me up and tan my hide whenever I was getting too fresh."
She stared at him wide-eyed. "She hit you? What did your parents had to say about that?"
His smile widened. "They were afraid of her too."
"You're joking."
He signed a cross over his chest, his expression solemn. "You will see for yourself when you meet her."
"I'm not sure I want to." Visions of a prune faced woman with judgmental eyes, flickered through her mind.
"She's going to love you. Imelda is always going on about me finding someone to settle down with."
Fear spiked along with the guilt. "You cannot say those things to me."
"I just did. Eat up, I have plans for us."