Babycakes (25 page)

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Authors: Donna Kauffman

BOOK: Babycakes
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She moaned softly against his mouth, aware of what she was doing to his body, to him.
“Yes, I want you,” he said against her lips as he moved from her mouth, laying a trail of hot, sweet kisses along her jaw, to the side of her neck, and up to the tender softness of her earlobe. “I want to peel these clothes off you and feel every bare inch of you on me.”
She shuddered hard against him as he nudged the neckline of her blouse open and continued his seductive trek.
“I want to hear you moan, make you gasp. I want you to arch under me. And over me. And I want to sink every last aching inch of myself into you.”
She was trembling for very different reasons as he kissed his way back along her jaw, then framed her face with his palms until she opened her eyes. Eyes that were huge and dark and drenched with the same exact need and want swamping him.
“I want all of you. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her body shaking against his. Or maybe it was him.
“I want your fear, your laughter, your doubts, your triumphs. I want your tears, your joy, your frustration, your excitement.” He traced his thumbs over her cheeks and felt his heart tumble the rest of the way down that steep, slick slide . . . and reveled in the ride. “I want your heart, Kit. I want it all.”
Chapter 18
“
M
organ . . . ” Kit was breathless . . . in more ways than one.
“Don’t—you don’t have to say anything to that. Just . . . taking this one step, that’s enough. One step. Then we take another and another. One at a time, okay? Where it leads is where it leads. I’m being honest about where I hope it will go. I wouldn’t ask you to try this, knowing how you feel, knowing how hard this is, if I didn’t think the payoff would be worth it.”
“You’re so confident about this.”
“You said this was different from anything you’d experienced. Well, it is for me, too. It’s easy and natural and very, very good. You make me laugh, you make me think. And I want you so badly my teeth ache. I don’t know how long it’s supposed to take to figure it out, but I’ve been told, on more than one occasion, that I’d know it when I was knocked over the head with it.” He grinned. “Turns out they were right.”
She grinned back because it was impossible not to. He looked so . . . taut, so intense, excited, and . . . worried. It was adorable, charming, and hot as hell, all at the same time. “I’ll take that first step with you.”
Fierce didn’t begin to describe the joy in his smile. “I know I’m pressuring you—hard—but—”
“But you’ve made me think, too, Morgan. And you’re right. We’ve had a lot taken from us without our consent or any preparation—leaving huge, gaping holes in our lives. I need to think about filling those holes, instead of tiptoeing around them, afraid I’ll fall in.”
He stroked her cheek, pulled her closer, and it was that very instinct to comfort, to take care that dowsed any lingering doubts she had. There was no telling where it would lead, but he wouldn’t be careless, and he wouldn’t be thoughtless, and she honestly couldn’t ask for more than that.
“It’s a natural instinct to duck and cover,” he told her. “I think . . . if it hadn’t been for Lilly, maybe I would have ducked, too. Losing my brother . . .” He shook his head, and then she was the one reaching up to soothe, to stroke, to comfort. She saw the surprise when he met her gaze again . . . and how that ferocity in his had deepened.
She didn’t know it was possible to feel so content and so utterly and inexorably turned on at the same time. Now that she’d finally let her guard completely down and opened herself up to the possibilities, everything inside her ached for him. It was terrifying but it was also exhilarating. She’d just have to cling to that last part, instead of being cowed by the first.
“After all that’s happened, I feel I’ve lost my sister, too. It’s not at all the same, of course, but it does make me think about regrets and what will be in the future between us.” Kit held his cheek in her palm, held his gaze just as surely. “Asher named you as guardian to his only child. So you know he loved you, you know he respected you. And I’m sure he knew he could count on you, too. When push came to shove, you were family. Keep that in your heart. It’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Wise words. I just . . . haven’t really let myself go there,” he said somewhat haltingly. “I’ve dealt with the shock of it and my tangled feelings about my family and the choices I’ve made. Then I just poured all the rest of my energy into focusing on Lilly. But I miss him. We were nothing alike, shared very little in our adult lives, but at the core of it all, we were brothers. We grew up together, got in trouble together. When I was little, I wanted to do everything he did. That changed as we got older, but—”
“But it doesn’t change—never changes—who you were to each other. Siblings. I know a little something about that.” She soothed his cheek with her hand, then slid both hands to the nape of his neck and tugged his mouth down to hers.
“Kit, you don’t have to—”
“Sh,” she said, kissing the corners of his mouth. “Protectors need protecting, too.” Then she quieted any other response he might have made by taking his mouth with her own. It was a marvel to her that every kiss they shared seemed so different, revealed so much more . . . pulled her in that much deeper. They’d shared so much of themselves already, intimate things, things she never shared and doubted he did, either. In the short time they’d been wrapped up in each other, standing on the beach under a full moon, the desire to share the most intimate moment with him, to have him in exactly the very graphic way he described wanting her, had grown from hunger to downright craving.
He sank into the kiss, pulling her deeply into it with him. Her hands roamed, sliding over his shoulders, drawing her palms down over his well-muscled chest, reveling in the thundering vibration of his heartbeat, over his flat belly, finally hooking her fingers into the loops of his trousers and tugging him closer. He growled against her mouth and surprised her by scooping her up against him and wrapping her around him.
“Kit—” he managed as he left her mouth and dropped heated, hungry kisses along her jaw and her neck.
“I know.” She felt the same sense of urgency. “Me, too.”
He swung her around. “Hold on.”
She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist as he started up the sand toward the dunes. “Morgan . . . the turtles . . . Gabe . . . everyone—”
“Will not come looking for us if we don’t go back to the nest. I’m sure they think we’re taking a stroll down the beach and will be very happy to chat about that.” The moonlight caught his knowing grin as he looked down into her eyes. “We are taking a stroll . . . just up the beach instead of along the shoreline.”
“But . . . where?”
The answer became clear as he wound down a short path through the dunes to a clearing where a small grouping of three bungalows, two small and one a bit larger, sat catty-corner to the others. They were weathered and worn, but appeared sturdy and . . . apparently uninhabited.
“What are these?” she asked, looking around as he slid her to her feet. The moonlight made it easier to see, but there were still more shadows than light. She could hear the crash of the waves, but the ocean was hidden from view over the dunes circling the tiny cottages, nestling them and protecting them. It was charming and rustic . . . and pretty much perfect.
“Gabe and Anne had these built about ten years ago to house visiting professors and occasionally student interns who come from other parts of the country—the world, actually—to study and work here. They’re mostly used during the spring and summer and sit empty through the winter. Gabe and I have been trying to figure out a way to use them year-round so they are more beneficial to the center.”
He took her hand and walked up the short path to the largest of the three, then reached up and felt along the top of the doorframe. He smiled as he lowered his hand again . . . with the key in his possession.
Kit laughed, excited and nervous. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“We don’t have to
do
anything, you know,” he said, pausing before he unlocked the door. “I just want some privacy, to spend a little time with you away from everyone. So we can be just us . . . for a little while.” He leaned down and kissed her, short, sweet, and quite tender. “Okay?”
She nodded, feeling silly for the sudden burning sensation in her eyes . . . happy tears . . . surprised again at how many ways he touched her.
As they entered the bungalow together, she realized she had come to trust him, felt comfortable and safe with him . . . but equally enjoyed that she never knew what he’d do next, that he was confident, bold, aggressive, and not afraid to take what he wanted. The dichotomy of protector and possessor, and her desire to experience both in the most intimate way a woman could, had her taking his hand and turning him to face her before he could light the hurricane lamp on the tiny dining room table.
“Morgan.” Without saying another word, she pulled his head down and kissed him.
He groaned, low and deep in his throat as he filled his hands with her. He wasn’t shy, and it wasn’t awkward. In fact, it was exactly what she wanted. He bumped the two of them backward several steps, clattering into one of the two chairs positioned around the table. “Hold on,” he mumbled against her lips.
Hiking her up in his arms, he carried her through a narrow door into a small bedroom, lowered her to the comforter stretched across the double bed, and followed her down.
She’d already come to love the feel of his hands, the way he framed her cheeks, the way he slid his fingers through her hair. He made it personal, like she was the absolute center of his attention. As he did when he lifted his head, just long enough to connect his gaze to hers. “Are you sure?”
She didn’t take offense at his presumption of where this was going, because it was going exactly where it had been going since the moment they’d laid eyes on one another. “I thought I made that pretty clear out there in the kitchen-slash-dining room-slash-living room.”
His lips curved. “It is pretty cozy.”
She wriggled under him and reveled in the way his body jerked and twitched at the feel of her. “I like cozy.”
“I’m liking it better by the second,” he agreed. Bracing his weight on his elbows, he brushed the hair off her forehead with his fingertips. “I know we haven’t talked about things like other relationships and—”
“I’m not in any other relationships.” She smiled. “I can barely handle the idea of one at a time. I want only one at a time.”
“For a very long time . . . this time.”
“I hope so.”
“The same,” he agreed, “on all counts. The reason I mentioned it is I want you to know you’re safe with me. Okay?”
“Oh. Right. I . . . thank you. I’m glad you made sure I knew that. It’s . . . been a long time and I didn’t catch on to what . . . You’re safe with me, too,” she blurted, feeling silly for suddenly stumbling over such a simple declaration. “In fact, you’re really . . . really safe with me.” She smiled up into his eyes . . . and slid her hands down his back, and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “Meaning, you don’t need . . . things. Unless you want to.”
He covered her hand, slipped his wallet from her fingers. . . and tossed it across the room.
“Good,” she said.
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, and the look in his eyes brought her back to that place of confidence and ease.
She slid her hands back up his body and stroked her fingertips along his jaw, then over his lower lip, following her actions closely with her gaze, wondering how his mouth was going to feel on all those places he’d yet to use it.
“Do you have any idea what it does to me when you look at my mouth like that?” His voice was not much more than a low grumble, and it did delicious things to her insides. Her outsides, too, for that matter.
She grinned, and for the first time, felt a little mischievous and fierce. “Like what? Like a woman who has finally decided to give in to her most carnal desire?”
His grin was slow, wide, and very, very wicked. “I’ve never been someone’s most carnal desire.”
“Well,” she said, pulling his head down to hers, “you can’t say that anymore.”
Framing her face again, a slight tension in his fingers now as he shifted her head so his mouth would fit hers more perfectly. “No, I definitely can’t.” He kissed her deeply, pushed her up the bed, and began unbuttoning her blouse. With the sun down, the air had cooled considerably, but it felt like a caress on her overheated skin as he bared more and more of it to his touch . . . and his taste. Her shirt followed his wallet; her pants met the same fate.
She felt alive and free, desirable and incredibly wanton. Splayed, naked beneath him, as he, still fully dressed, took every advantage of her. His lips were warm, his tongue wet, and his fingers just a little rough.
She responded to all of it, writhing, twisting, arching. He made her moan. He made her beg.
She burrowed her fingers in his hair, urging him to where she wanted him most. She could feel him smile against the soft skin of her inner thigh.
“Demanding,” he murmured.
“It’s tough being the most carnal desire,” she managed, which made him chuckle.
She smiled, thinking she couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d felt so completely and utterly herself. Maybe she’d never known who she really was, she’d been so busy being who she was supposed to be, who she needed to be. With Morgan, nothing was censored, nothing hidden. She could trust him with all of who she was, even—and maybe precisely—when she wasn’t sure quite who that might be. Yet.
But she was figuring it out. And loving every second of it.
“You know,” he said, teasing her with light kisses along her thigh, up to her hipbone . . . then slowly across to the other one, before trailing equally light and lazy kisses down to the inside of her other thigh. “I think . . . you should get . . . a taste . . . of what it’s like . . . to be the most carnal desire.”
Her short laugh turned into a gasp, and her hips arched straight off the bed when he slid his tongue deep inside her.
Her fingers dug into the mattress, and everything in her arched and keened as he drove her quite decidedly straight to the edge, and raced her right over. It was almost wrenching, the pleasure he was giving her, and she continued to buck underneath him, shocked at the strength of wave upon wave. She would have pushed him away, thinking any more would paralyze her, but he gentled his tongue, gentled his fingers, and he stayed right where he was.

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