Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
Hannah
I felt my breath hitch when Simon slid his arm about my waist and pulled me close.
I was caught off guard by his willingness to dance.
Most of the men in my life to date, including my ex-husband, had not been comfortable on the dance floor.
Afraid of looking like a fool, my ex had always refused and if I danced with my friends, he’d pouted.
Needless to say, there had not been a lot of partner dancing in my life.
I was prepared for the simple side-to-side swaying that most men preferred.
To say I was wrong about Simon O’Malley was a colossal understatement.
He pulled me in tight and with our bodies just inches apart, he moved his hand to my hip and guided me into a seductive two-step—quick, quick, slow, slow, repeat—that included him spinning me out and reeling me back in.
“What was that?” I cried as I landed against his chest with all the grace of Dude pouncing on one of his toys.
“You might not be aware, being a New Englander and all, but any Southern man worth his salt knows how to dance—a two-step at the very least—or so my mama said when she forced Charlie and me to learn how to dance.”
“I did not know that.” My voice was breathy and it wasn’t from exertion.
“Come on, there’s not enough room in here.” He took me by the hand and grabbed the wireless speaker as he led me out onto the back deck.
The sun was just setting and the sky was turning a soft orange sliding into a deep red at the horizon.
Simon set the speaker on the railing and turned to me.
He held out his hands and I took a second to take him in from his dark wavy curls and arching brows, to his warm brown eyes, square jaw, and full lips.
It was unfair that he was so ludicrously handsome.
He was tall and lean and when I took his hands and slid into his arms I immediately felt safe.
He held me close for just a moment, pressing his cheek to my hair. “Do you know what drives me crazy about you?”
“My refusal to sell the cottage?” I asked.
I felt his smile and he released me, putting one hand on my hip while taking my hand with the other. He began a slow two-step, guiding me effortlessly into mirroring his moves.
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s the smell of your hair. Coconut and lime. It’s been driving me crazy since our first night at the cottage.”
I was immediately flustered but tried not to show it. “Good to know I have a secret weapon when it comes to bending you to my will, O’Malley.”
His small closed-lip smile plucked all my heartstrings as he spun me once, twice, three times until I felt as if I was flying within the safety of his arms. It was beautiful and I felt for the first time in a long time like the carefree girl I once was.
He caught me gently and we moved slowly around the deck to the charming duet “You Look Like You Love Me” by Ella Langley and Riley Green.
“Do you know what drives me crazy about you?” I asked.
“My determination to sell the house,” he said.
I shook my head. “No. It’s that one dimple you get in your cheek on the right side when you smile.”
He blinked in surprise, then his brow furrowed. “I don’t have a dimple.”
“Yeah, you do,” I said. “And it’s dead sexy.”
He spun me again and I felt the night air whoosh past my face as the sky twirled by in a kaleidoscope of colors, peach and crimson and dusky violet.
I laughed out loud with the sheer joy of it.
And when I landed back in Simon’s arms, he was grinning.
It was big and bold and beautiful and his dimple winked at me like it was beckoning me in.
I reached up and gently let my finger run over the dimple that intrigued me so. He had just the one, not a matched set, as if his life didn’t allow him to have that much joy, as if he was made of half happy and half sad. Weren’t we all?
He caught my hand when I took it away and he placed it on his shoulder.
He pulled my body into his and again I followed his lead, wrapping my arms around his neck.
When he lowered his head to kiss me, I met him halfway.
The awareness that had been building between us over the past few weeks was now all-consuming.
The only thing I felt was him. His scent, his touch, his warmth, all of it wrapped me in a cocoon where nothing else mattered. Not the house, not our grandfathers or their secret relationship, nothing but Simon and me was allowed in this safe space.
Then he kissed me and I couldn’t even remember where we were or what my name was. Much like our dance, it started out quick, quick, and then slow. He kissed me, then nipped my mouth, and then slid his tongue across my lower lip, romancing me with his mouth just as he had when we danced.
I opened my mouth and he accepted the invitation without hesitation, but I wasn’t willing to just follow this time.
I wanted him to feel as wooed as I did. I slid my hands into his hair.
He moaned, letting me know this was appreciated.
I angled his head down so that I could kiss him as thoroughly as he’d kissed me.
To my delight, he let me take the lead, moving his hands to my hips to steady me while I stood on tiptoe and sought out the taste of him with a single-mindedness that left us both breathless.
When I pulled back, his eyes burned with a heat that scorched. I had done that to him. Me. It was heady stuff.
“I know I said we shouldn’t get involved.” Simon brushed a lock of hair out of my eyes. “And while I’m not normally a short-term guy, I’ll take whatever you’re offering, Spencer, because I want to be with you for however long you’ll have me, assuming you still want this.”
Want this? My god, I was sure I’d die if I didn’t have him right now.
“Take me to bed, O’Malley.” My voice was husky and rough with need.
His dimple flashed and he lowered his head until his mouth was next to mine.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Then he scooped me up as if I were a dainty little thing, which I was not, and carried me into the house.
Dude was asleep, belly-up on the couch, and Frank was curled up beside him.
I thought Simon would put me down and we’d walk up the stairs, but no.
He carried me up to the landing and wasn’t even breathing heavy when we reached the top.
“Which room?” he asked. We looked at each other and I said, “Yours,” at the same time he said, “Mine.”
We were in accord. Somehow it just felt wrong to do the wild thing in the bedroom our grandfathers had shared.
Simon carried me into his room and kicked the door shut behind him.
Once inside, he shifted me in his arms so that I slid down his body until I was standing in front of him.
He reached up and brushed a lock of hair that had slipped from my ponytail out of my eyes and the gentleness of the touch made me ache for so much more.
I quickly pulled my hair tie loose, letting my hair fall down around my shoulders. Simon reached out and let the strands slide through his fingers. Then he pulled me close and lowered his lips to mine.
His kiss was slow and soft as if he knew he had all night and he planned to use every moment of it.
A biting fierce need inside of me rose as he kissed me, plundering my mouth with his tongue, running his lips down the side of my neck, while his hands slid up my sides to cup my breasts, which had become unbearably sensitive.
When he broke the kiss, I reached for the hem of his T-shirt.
It was a crazy sort of madness that drove me as I pulled it over his head.
I needed to touch him, to run my hands along the taut muscles of his chest and abs.
I found myself resisting the urge to rub myself all over him as if I were a cat—this was not a reaction I could ever remember having for a half-naked man at my fingertips before.
“Easy, Spencer.” Simon captured my hands, holding them out to my sides while he kissed me. “We’ve got all night and many orgasms to go. Pace yourself.”
“Many?” My voice was something between a squeak and a whisper.
“Three at the very least,” he promised. Oh, my.
I was only surprised I didn’t immediately melt into a puddle of goo right there.
I blinked at him and he chuckled low in his throat.
His hands slid down my sides again to the bottom of my tank top.
As if he was savoring unwrapping a present, he slowly inched my shirt up, revealing my skin bit by bit.
Then he kneeled in front of me and kissed the skin as it was exposed, moving ever so slowly up to my breasts, which were already tight in response to his nearness.
The blood was pounding in my ears. I was hot and there was a frantic fluttering feeling inside of me that demanded to be released. I plowed my fingers into his hair and tilted his head back so he could see the need on my face.
“Spencer, that might be the sexiest look any woman has ever given me,” he drawled.
Then he pulled my shirt over my head as he rose and scooped me up in his arms. In three steps he crossed to the bed and dropped me onto the covers.
Thank goodness, if I was going to fall into an abyss of pleasure, I didn’t want to attempt it while standing.
He climbed up beside me and stretched out, resting one very large hand on my abdomen as if to keep me in place while he continued kissing me, as the other speared into my hair, cradling the back of my head.
When I slid my hands over his shoulders and pulled him closer, he grunted approval and his hand began to explore every inch of me while his mouth took mine, kissing me with a skill I’d never experienced before.