Midnight Hero (27 page)

Con supported her with a hand behind her back, and she sat up. He eased the gown over her head and tossed it on the chair. Her cream-lace panties quickly followed. Naked, she lay back,
smiling as his smoky gaze roamed over her. She'd expected to feel shy and awkward. Instead, rightness and peace filled her—as if she'd been born for this moment, this man. Indeed, she had. Her body knew she belonged wholly to him, as did her heart.

Con inhaled raggedly. “You are so beautiful.” He reached over and plucked a pink rose from the pitcher on the nightstand. Holding the stem, he brushed her lips with the soft, cool petals. She breathed in the sweet fragrance.

Holding her gaze, he slowly, gently trailed the silky blossom along her throat, and she shivered under the erotic sensation.

As light as a butterfly's wing, he stroked the velvety rose in a straight line down the center of her body, just skimming the surface of her curls. From her thighs to the tips of her toes, he treated each leg to the sensual caress. Then each arm, from fingertips to shoulders. The rose wandered in a leisurely, languid journey over every inch of her, melting her bones.

Con's glowing eyes told her without words that she was precious. Cherished. Loved. The heart connection shimmered between them, and she silently returned his love. His eyes darkened. Message received.

If she lived to be a hundred, she would never lose the sense of wonder, the feeling of privilege to share his life.

He trailed the rose upward and circled her breasts with feathery strokes. Though he didn't touch her nipples, they pebbled, and she arched her back. He continued the delicious torment until her skin was so sensitized every nerve ending sang. Until she yearned to feel his hands on her.

“Con,” she begged. “Touch me.”

He set aside the blossom and moved over her, his weight propped on his arms. He bent his head to her breasts. “You smell sweeter than any flower,” he murmured. His husky whisper bathed her skin in warmth. “A rose by any other name…” He leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth.

“Oh!” Her inner muscles clenched. A sweet, burning ache flowed through her and settled heavily at the juncture of her thighs.

He gave each breast his undivided attention, and with every
flick of his warm, textured tongue, the fiery ache inside her grew. His hands skimmed her curves, followed by his mouth. He tasted and tantalized like a man sampling desserts at a banquet, learning her secrets, telling her his.

Clinging to him, she panted for air, her limbs taut and trembling. This was a different kind of fire…vital, alive and almost too exciting to bear.

Seeking relief, she rocked her hips into his hardness, but the molten friction only increased her need. Con had ignited the inferno and only he could satisfy the hungry, licking flames. She gripped his wide shoulders in desperation. “Con, please!”

He covered her mound with his broad palm, and then his thumb brushed an exquisitely sensitive spot that had her nearly leaping off the bed. “Easy, sweetheart.” His thumb stroked in a steady rhythm that set off bright, hot flares in every cell of her body.

She was shaking uncontrollably, couldn't remember how to breathe. She gasped. “I could die any second.”

Con's tender, amused gaze captured hers. “You won't die.”

Neon ribbons of pleasure streamed through her. “It's okay. I…don't care. As…long…as you don't stop doing…that.”

His laugh was uneven. “I'm just getting started, baby.”

Her belly tensed in anticipation as a thousand different sensations blazed to life at his touch. One long finger slid inside her, and she moaned at the unfamiliar, but amazing feeling.

His face inches from hers, Con pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “Okay?”

“Better than…okay.”

He stroked, slow and deep, wringing another moan from her. His clever fingers moved in a devastating rhythm, sending shimmers up her spine. Another finger joined the first. A moment of pressure, a slight twinge, and then the delicious sensations swirled again.

Con studied her face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” The moment had quickly passed, was quickly forgotten. Wrapped in a sensual haze, she struggled to form a coherent thought. “Why?”

He withdrew his fingers, but his thumb continued the spiraling pleasure. “I just…made it easier for you later.”

“Oh.” Talking was becoming extremely difficult. As was thinking. “You're so sweet.”

“Sweet?” Her hips rocked involuntarily under his hand, and a slow smile curved his sensual mouth. “What happened to sexy?”

What he was doing felt incredible. Her limbs trembled, and her breath rasped in short, hard gasps. “Sexy? Definitely. Yes.”

He increased the pace, and her entire body went rigid, suspended on the verge of something wonderful.

“Go over for me, baby,” Con murmured.

“Yes.” She wanted to. Her body shuddered with wave after wave of sweet release. Con kissed her, giving her his essence, his breath. His hand slowed, drawing out the sensations. Like a warm, tropical ocean, desire retreated, advanced, never completely disappearing.

Con's hand teased and coaxed, and passion again spiraled. An intolerable emptiness inside her begged for fulfillment. The need for him thrummed in her blood. “I want you,” she demanded against his mouth. “All of you.”

“Milady's wish is my command.” His knee parted her thighs, the slight rasp of hair sending a thrill through her nerve endings. The length of him slid tantalizingly along her center. His blunt heat pressed against her, then slowly pushed inward. Filling her with himself. Filling her with awe. Wonder. Happiness. “I didn't know,” she gasped.

His hands clasped hers on the pillow beside her head and he linked his fingers with hers. They lay joined, palm to palm, heartbeat to heartbeat, soul to soul. “What, darlin'?”

“I never guessed. I never could have imagined how complete in every way I would feel with you inside me.” Physically and emotionally.

He groaned. “I imagined it. But the fantasy didn't even come close to reality.” He kissed her. “I love you, Bailey.”

“I love you, too, Con.”

He began to move and she lost all ability to reason.

She held his gaze, wrapped in the miraculous cloak of his love. He took her up, higher than she ever thought possible. Together, they danced on the sun's fiery surface. Flames blazed in
side her, hot and bright. The flames grew stronger and more powerful with each rhythmic thrust, until they burst into an inferno inside her. With Con's glowing brown gaze embracing hers, she exploded into a thousand brilliant particles of light.

Con's fingers tightened on hers, his gaze dark, intense. He hastened the rhythm, spinning her even higher. “Again, darlin'.”

The second peak hit her almost instantaneously. Swamped in ecstasy, she was dimly aware of Con's body shuddering on top of hers, of him shouting her name in completion. She didn't know where her joy ended and his began. They were one body. One spirit.

Forged into an inseparable bond.

 

Con lurched back to awareness. Or maybe regained consciousness, he wasn't sure which. He was still inside Bailey, with his face buried in her neck. Still gasping for breath. Still tingling from forehead to toenails.

Her dazed blue eyes blinked up at him. He brushed damp, tangled curls from her temple. “Are you all right?”

“Mmm. Absolutely. You?”

“I think I levitated off the bed at one point, but yeah.”

Holding her gently, he kissed her, murmuring words of praise and endearment. She belonged to him, now. For all eternity. She slid her arms around his neck, and they rested, not speaking, but connected in the most elemental way. Forever united.

After a while, Bailey stirred. “Con?” A question shimmered in her low voice. She looked up at him, her face open and trusting in the flickering firelight.

God, he loved her so much. If she asked him to chop off an arm, he'd head for the knife drawer in the kitchen. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Um. I…about that list…” She whispered in his ear.

The part of him that he'd thought down for the count eagerly rose to the occasion with a leap of exhilaration. He grinned at her. “Milady, your
every
wish is
definitely
my command!”

Sometime later—a long time later if he wagered a guess—he gently disengaged and rolled to one side, taking Bailey with him. Her luscious lips tilted, a slow lazy smile of perfect con
tentment, and his heart fisted. He wanted to see her this happy every day for the rest of his life.

The rest of his life.
The thought slammed into him. Argh! He'd done everything ass-backwards. He'd meant to ask Bailey to marry him
before
making love to her. But when she'd propositioned him—both times—he'd completely lost it.

He gave himself a mental head slap. Okay, so he was a guy. Sometimes, the wrong part of his anatomy did the thinking. He'd make it up to her, here and now. He sat up and dragged his coat from the bottom of the bed. Fumbled in the pocket for the ring box. Once more, the atmosphere wasn't exactly moonlight and roses, but his proposal was way overdue. And a hundred percent from the heart.

He returned to her side. “Bailey—” The words evaporated in his mouth.

She was curled on her side, sound asleep. Again.

 

Bailey floated awake. Outside, the storm still sputtered, scattering sleet over the slate-gray morning. Con's attentive lovemaking had sizzled into her system, until everything inside her sparkled. She stretched and sighed. Every cell in her body was sated. She turned her head, and his mahogany gaze ensnared hers.

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hi, there, Sleeping Beauty.”

Her stomach clenched in wonder and appreciation. Draped in her mauve silk sheets, his hard, tanned body looked even more gorgeous, more potently male than she'd imagined. “Hi yourself, Officer Sexy.”

“How do you feel?”

She smiled. “Glorious.” She lowered her brows. “Don't you ever sleep?”

“Not when I can watch you, instead.” His penetrating brown eyes studied her, his expression far more alert than the occasion warranted. What was he up to now?

He tweaked a curl. “How does a nice hot bath for two sound?”

Hmm. So much for conspiracy theories. Maybe she was imagining the undercurrent of intensity. “Heavenly.”

“Be right back.”

He strolled into the bathroom naked, at home in his body. She watched him, admiring his lean, athletic build, bronzed by firelight. She'd learned to appreciate exactly
how
athletic during the past—she glanced at the clock—three and a half hours. Con made love the way he did everything else. With thorough, utter commitment and contagious joie de vivre. He'd coaxed her dragon out to play, and it would never again retreat back into the cage. Not that she wanted it to. Now that she and the dragon understood one another, she
liked
the bolder aspects of her personality.

Water splashed into the tub, and then Con returned. He scooped her off the bed before she could rise. She giggled. “Hey! I can walk.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “We're a full-service establishment.”

Whoo baby, he wasn't kidding. She didn't have the nerve to inventory the scattered condom wrappers as he carried her into the bathroom.

The pitcher of roses sat on the shelf behind the tub, along with replenished lit candles. Another pitcher of orange juice and two fluted champagne glasses completed the romantic ensemble. Con must have arranged them while she was sleeping. He left the door open so they had a view of the fireplace, and lowered her into the hot water, brimming with rose-scented bubbles.

He climbed in and sat facing her, their limbs entwined. She slid her hand along his calf, the sinewy muscles slick and soapy. “You'll smell all girly. Like me.” She rather liked the primitive notion of branding him with her scent.

He inhaled, and passion glittered in his dark eyes. “I don't mind if you don't.”

“The guys at the station will razz you up the wazoo.”

“I don't intend on going back…” She narrowed her eyes, and he held up a dripping hand. “For a while. I'm taking some time off.”

She cocked her head. “Right. To recover from your injuries before you accept the team leader position.”

“No.” He lifted a lone rosebud that was lying beside the tub and handed it to her. “To ensure you believe in the realm of mysteries.”

Puzzled, she accepted the flower. “After the past twenty-four hours, I'm a faithful believer.” Watching Con, who was again regarding her with that odd, smoldering intensity, she automatically lifted the blossom to her nose.

Anticipation stamped his handsome features. He looked like he was waiting for something. “What, Con? What is it?”

He merely grinned. Still bewildered, she lowered her gaze to the rose. A sparkling jewel—something that looked suspiciously like a diamond ring—was tucked inside the folded pink petals.

Her breath jammed in her throat. With trembling fingers, she withdrew an exquisite engagement ring from the rose.

“Bailey.” Con's expression sobered. He clasped her left hand in both of his. “I love you with all my heart. With all my soul. With every breath I take. Will you marry me?”

Her heart leaped with joy. Tears filled her eyes and she flung her arms around his neck, sending bubbles flying. “Yes!”

He was shaking now, too. Holding her on his lap, he slid the ring onto the third finger of her left hand. A perfect fit. Just like the two of them.

Overflowing with happiness, she smiled through her tears. “You do realize I will never be able to tell our children and grandchildren exactly how you proposed?”

His grin bounced back. “We'll lie.”

She feigned mock outrage. “Why, Conall Patrick O'Rourke. You want me to fib to our daughters and granddaughters?”