Chapter 12 #2
"Wonderful chicken. Anyway, the tradition in our family is to relax for the day and rest up for supper. It's usually just family and my aunt Theresa and uncle Jimmy is in from Boston." He shook his head, eyes twinkling.
"She's a piece of work. Loud, abrasive, and very demanding. Poor Uncle Jimmy is quite the longsuffering husband. I decided to use this opportunity to get away for a while."
"Glad I could be of some help."
"So am I," he gave her an unrepentant smile.
"Sure, you don't want some food?"
"Even the very thought of it turns my stomach. The tea is fine." She fiddled with her cup.
"You bought Zoe an expensive jacket."
"So?" He lifted his brows at her.
"She already has several."
"One more cannot hurt."
"She now has three new ones. You bought her one, as well as your mother and Katherine."
"Okay. I hate to repeat myself, but so?"
She sighed and took another sip of tea.
"You're spoiling her."
"We both know our daughter is not the type to get rotten. She's not built that way."
She regarded him for a long moment, her expression softening just a touch.
"Maybe not, but your family do have a tendency to go overboard."
He chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass.
"Can you blame me for wanting to see her happy? Besides, Christmas comes only once a year."
"What are you really doing here, Cade?" She asked quietly after a spell of silence.
"Taking care of you and enjoying this delicious meal. You should try and eat something." He polished off the rest and rose to put the dish in the sink.
"Finished?" He gestured towards her cup and she nodded, passing it to him.
"I'm going to take a nap."
"Good idea."
"I'll just see you out."
"I'm staying." His calm voice did little to soothe her tattered nerves and had her staring at him in frustration.
"I don't need a babysitter."
"I'm staying. Go on up and take your nap. I brought a manuscript with me that I want to go through." He brushed past her and headed for the front door.
Abigail trailed after him and when he went outside, she was sorely tempted to simply lock the doors behind him. What did he mean he was staying? Rubbing her hands over her arms, she stood there for a minute staring at the closed door until he came back in.
"You, all right?" He had a briefcase in his hand.
"I'm fine. I don't want you to stay."
"Duly noted." He brushed past her as if he belonged and went into the living room where she had been sitting before he came.
Biting her lip in indecision, she turned and headed for the stairs, but not before peeking into the living room.
Her heart did a quick dive to see him sitting on the comfortable sofa she had abandoned.
He had removed his boots and rolled up the sleeves of his sweater.
His long legs were stretched out and propped on an ottoman.
And he had the manuscript, a thick one opened on his lap.
Mentally berating herself for feeling a sense of happiness that he was here, she turned and walked away. She would take a nap, because the allergy medication was already kicking in. And if he was still here, she would ask him to leave. If he refuses, she would be firm about it.
Slipping into her bedroom, she went straight to bed, her mind on the disturbing man downstairs.
As she lay beneath the soft covers, the gentle tapping of the bare branches of the maple on her window pane, mingling with the quiet ticking of the bedside clock.
She closed her eyes, struggling to let the tension fade, but Cade's presence lingered in her thoughts, both unsettling and oddly comforting.
The house felt different with him here, less lonely, yet more complicated.
Her heavy lids flickered shut and the last thing on her mind was that Cade was right downstairs.
*****
The manuscript had been discarded a few minutes ago.
The story was riveting, but his mind had been unable to focus because of the woman upstairs.
So, he had abandoned the pretense of being interested in reading the damn thing.
He had taken it with as a prop anyway, something to show that he was not desperately thinking of her. Wanting to be with her.
She was sleeping. A smile touched his lips as he stared at her. She was on her side and turned towards the door. She had shed the ugly terry robe and was wearing red and white candy striped pajamas.
She looked as vulnerable as his daughter. Deciding that she was just going to have to deal with it, he undressed. Tossing his clothes on the sofa across from the bed, he got in gingerly, trying not to wake her.
Tugging the sheets over him, he gathered her against him.
Heaving out a silent breath of relief when she snuggled, he wrapped his arms around her and breathed in her scent.
He had spent the weeks since the awful argument trying to tear her from his heart, feeling the impotent rage simmering when all he managed to do was to make her more central.
She was there to stay. He had discovered much to his frustration that love was not something to discard like clothing when there was no more wear left. It lodged and lodged in deep.
He had tried hating her, but that did not work either.
Her slender body pressed on his and it felt so right.
She would wake up spitting mad, but he had the solution to calm her down or direct her anger into something else.
He would allow her to sleep for a little while longer, but then he was going to wake her up in a delicious manner. He was looking forward to it.
*****
She was sleepily aroused. Waking in stages, she stretched languidly, loving the feel of a man's naked body against hers. It had been so long since she had that. If she was dreaming or indulging in an erotic fantasy, she did not want to lose it.
The body felt hard and strong against her slender curves.
Her eyes flew open as reality hit her. She wasn't dreaming or having an erotic journey. There was a man and he was naked!
Consciousness came all the way. Before she could rear up, strong arms tightened around her, keeping her anchored.
"What--"
The rest of the words were swallowed in a kiss that sent her insides heating.
When he lifted his head, her mind was one big fuzz. Her heart beating unsteadily.
"What are you doing?" She whispered hoarsely, throat completely dry.
"I want us to start over." He kept his eyes on hers.
"Not go back. Start over completely." He linked his fingers with hers, forming a bond. He had felt her coming awake and decided to make his move.
"Hi." Bending, he trailed kisses over her cheek, whisper soft and provocative.
"My name is Kincaid Paul Tyrell." He nibbled at the seams of her lips and had her quivering.
"Those close to me calls me Cade." He ran his tongue, just the tip over her full bottom lip.
"See, I did something terrible. I messed up a relationship or the beginning of one before it even got started. I'm asking for forgiveness and a chance to prove that I can be the man you want." He pulled the lip between his teeth and sent desire pouring through her body.
"Cade--"
"Try me." His tongue eased into her mouth, and she was helpless to stop him.
"You're naked."
"Not completely." He inched her closer so that she could feel the hard contours of his magnificent body.
"I thought you'd left."
"No." His lips moved to her cheek and then her throat, loving the way she arched towards him.
"No, I couldn't." His hands slid down to her back and kneaded.
"I want to feel you." He tugged the hem of her top.
"I can feel your nipples through the material of your top. I want to feast on you." He shifted her slightly so that he could take the top off. A sound hummed inside his throat as he got a look at her rounded flesh.
"Beautiful." His body felt as if it was ignited.
He wanted to take his time. Explore each and every inch of her slender curves and then start all over again.
He had the luxury of being in bed with her.
The last time, it had not been convenient and he regretted that.
The words she had flung at him still hurts, but he was willing to look beyond that.
He needed her. Trying to tear her from his heart had not worked. She was lodged in deep.
"Abigail. Abigail." Her name was a litany that swam round and round in his head. He stroked her side slowly, before cupping her breasts. The nipples rose proudly under his skillful fingers.
"I have to taste you."
She was shaking. Her insides felt like melted butter.
She should tell him to leave. But the words were stuck inside her throat.
Need poured through her like a flood. Ever since that incident in the car, she had been having this fantasy of being with him again.
She knew she should call on rational thinking, but it had deserted her.
When his tongue touched her nipple, she cried out his name, fingers sliding through his dense dark hair before latching on. Passion exploded and that was before he started to suckle. Her breath came in gasps, body already reacting.
His head lifted, eyes a burning blue blaze as they sought hers.
"Let me have you."
Her fingers curled into the hairs on his chest.
"Yes." She moaned.
"Yes."
He needed nothing further. With a groan, he clamped a hand at the back of her neck and closed his mouth on hers.