The MacGregor Grooms (29 page)

“Being considerate was killing me.”

“I thought you’d decided we’d just be friends.”

“We are friends.” He kept circling, a long slow dance, down the hallway, into his bedroom. “That only makes me want you more.”

“No one ever has.” Emotion swam into her eyes as she laid a hand on his cheek. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

“I’ll help you with that.” He turned his head so that his lips brushed her palm. “Trust me, Naomi. I won’t hurt you. And if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

“I won’t want you to.”

He left the light burning. Though he wished he’d lit a fire, wished there were candles flickering, he didn’t think he could let her go long enough to tend to it.

She was trembling lightly, but those lovely gray eyes were steady on his. The trust he’d asked for was in there. He swore that, whatever his own needs, he wouldn’t break that trust.

His mouth was soft on hers, drawing her in with care, with warmth. “I love this part of you.” He
caught her top lip between his teeth, chewed gently. “It’s so sexy.”

Her eyes blinked open, the aroused surprise in them pulling a groaning laugh out of him. “Don’t have a clue, do you? Pretty Naomi. I’ve been dying to bite your lips.”

So he did, pleasing himself, destroying her until the pressure building inside her threatened to erupt. With a muffled cry she threw her arms around him. And her mouth went wild.

Pure hot lust burst in his blood, rattled his brain. Slow down, slow down, he ordered himself. Her response might have been the answer to every sexual dream, but she was still untouched.

And he’d given his word.

He softened the kiss, soothing her lips now as he began to unwind the braid at her back. He wanted her hair in his hands, tumbled over his bed, wrapped around him. The weight and texture of it, the scent enthralled him.

Combing his fingers through it, he stepped back. Then, keeping his eyes on hers, he lifted her sweater up.

Her first instinct was to cover herself, but he caught her hands in his. Struggling for air, she felt the heat rise up to flush her skin as his gaze swept down, lingered, came back to hers.

Nerves and needs jangled inside her as he skimmed a fingertip over the swell above her bra. Her hands curled at her sides before she ordered herself to relax, to be brave enough to do what she wanted. After a shaky breath, she gripped the hem of his sweatshirt and drew it up over his body.

“Oh. My.” He was beautiful. Lean muscles, smooth skin. Without thinking, she laid her hands on his chest. Then snatched them back when she felt him quiver.

With a strained laugh, he brought her hands back. “Step out of your shoes.”

Oh, his heart was racing, she thought. And his chest was so … hard. “My shoes.”

“Step out of them.”

“Mmm.” Fascinated by the feel of him, she splayed her fingers over him as she obeyed. Then her body jerked when he unhooked her trousers.

“Relax.” He murmured the word, bringing his mouth back to hers, taking her swimming into another kiss as the trousers slid down. While his mouth continued to play on hers, he lifted her, laid her on the bed.

She felt the heat from his body over hers, the coolness of the spread beneath her. And as her heart plunged, she felt the smooth, lazy glide of his hands.

She stirred under him, yearning toward … something. But before she could reach it, she was floating, drifting into dreams at the urging of his mouth and hands.

He’d never taken more care with a woman. Never felt the need to take so much. He wanted to give her every pleasure, awaken her to her own desires. It was easier than he’d believed to bank the fires within himself, to let them simmer.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep. But he could feel her heart trip beneath his mouth as he tasted her. The low and mindless moan she gave when he slipped her bra aside sent an echoing shimmer into his gut.

She slipped into his hands, firm and full. Her hips arched instinctively as he skimmed his thumbs over her nipples. He watched the stunned pleasure flicker over her face, her lashes flutter, then lift, to reveal eyes gone storm dark and clouded.

She sucked in a ragged breath. “What should I do?”

Her hands were roaming restlessly over his back, driving him wonderfully
mad
. “Enjoy.”

His mouth lowered, his breath skimming over the sensitized skin of her breast, his tongue flicking erotically, tortuously, until her hands clamped on the back of his head to bring him to her.

With lazy tugs and pulls he set out to destroy her, reveling in her shocked gasps, her trembles. He let her taste fill him as his hands roamed down, stroking closer and closer to the heat.

Just a brush of fingertips and slow, openmouthed kisses over her shoulders, her breasts. Just a slide of his palm along her thigh. He cupped her, gently, intending to give her time to get used to this new intimacy.

She exploded beneath him, her body bucking, his name bursting from her lips, and the heat flooding out of her into his hand.

Her reaction ripped through him, forcing him to bury his face in her hair and for the first time fight viciously for control.

Her body went lax and her breath remained shallow and fast. Nothing had prepared her for that long, glorious shock to the system, for the tidal wave of hot, liquid pleasure. Delirious from it, she turned her head, hands pulling at him until she could find his mouth with hers.

His skin was damp, slippery. Oh, she loved the feel of it. Wanted more, and raced her lips over his neck and shoulders even as her hips began to lift and press, lift and press against him.

Her body was full of storms ready to break, her mind whirling with them.

He rolled with her, struggling back from the edge, holding himself in check long enough to strip off his jeans and protect her. Fighting the beat of his own blood so he could take her back up slowly, drench her in pleasure until he knew she was close to flying again.

And as her body bowed, as that moan of release sounded in her throat, he gripped her hips and slipped into her. The resistance of innocence made him shudder, and made him gentle. He took her mouth, swallowed her single, sharp cry and made her his.

Only his, he thought, as he filled her for the first time.

*   *   *

She quivered still, cradled in the circle of his arms. He held her there, stroking her hair and waiting for his own system to level out.

“You okay?”

“Mmm,” was the best she could manage, and made him smile.

“How do you feel?”

“Ah, thickheaded, floaty, a little drunk.” She sighed. “Incredibly relaxed. Not awkward at all. I was sure I’d feel awkward. Did I do everything right?”

He lifted a brow. Her voice was slurred and sleepy. “No. You were a huge disappointment to me. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave now.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide in a face still glowing. Then she saw his grin, blinked. “I could probably do better with practice,” she said, stunning herself.

“Hmm. Well, maybe I’ll give you another shot at it. Pretty Naomi.” He cupped her cheek and touched his lips to hers. “Want that wine now?”

“All right.” She couldn’t have cared less about wine, but thought it would give her a chance to recover from the quiver it gave her when he called her pretty.

She pretended not to watch him as he climbed out of bed and walked naked from the room. But when he’d gone, she patted a hand to her heart. How in the world, she wondered, had she managed to engage the interest of a man who looked like
that?
Who had such intense physical beauty along with
such intense kindness?

Better not to question it, she told herself. Then, realizing suddenly that she was naked, too, she tugged up the tangled sheets and spread just as he came back into the room.

He stood there a moment, then shook his head. “Why the hell hasn’t someone gobbled you up before me?”

She flushed, only adding to the sexy, tumbled image she projected. “I guess no one ever really tried.”

With a laugh, he carried the wine and glasses to the bed. “Get serious. You must not have been paying attention.”

“No, I’ve always been clumsy with boys. Men. Males.” And because she was starting to feel clumsy again, she gratefully took the wine he offered.

“Honey, I’d say the males you’ve come across have been the clumsy ones, if none of them managed to get ahold of you.” With a fingertip he drew the sheet she held to her breasts down an inch. “You have an amazing body.”

“I always wanted to be tall and slim.” Trying to relax again, she sipped her wine. “But I started, you know, developing early. It was very painful.”

“Why?”

“Oh … I suppose you have to be a girl to understand what it’s like to be an adolescent and suddenly …”

“Grow beautiful breasts,” he finished with a smile. “But boys really like breasts, Naomi. We consider them one of nature’s finest miracles.”

She laughed a little. “I spent years trying to hide mine.”

“Still are,” he pointed out, then tugged the sheet down to her waist, grinning when she sputtered. “Much better. How’s your wine?”

“It’s fine.” Resolutely, she pulled the sheet back up. She couldn’t possibly sit there drinking wine while uncovered. “I’m sorry about your shirt. You could probably get most of the stain out if you soaked it now.”

“I’m keeping the stain to remind me of a monumental night in my life.”

Delight shone in her eyes. “That’s so sweet. How could you possibly be interested in me?”

Even as she prepared to saw off her tongue, he angled his head, gave her a long considering look. “You have breasts.”

Her eyes widened; her mouth dropped open. Then she caught the gleam in his eyes and burst into laughter. “Well, lucky me.”

His fingertip skimmed over the curve of her shoulder, down her throat, lowered to toy with the sheet again. “After you finish your wine, I think we should have that practice session.”

“Oh.” He wanted her again. Life was so suddenly full of miracles. “All right. But I’d like to move into the library this time.” It was her turn to see surprise light in his eyes. “You see, I do really well around books.”

The image that brought into his mind had him going rock hard. “Naomi?”

“Yes?”

“Finish your wine.”

She had to swallow first, then tipped back her glass and drained it. “Done,” she announced.

*   *   *

It was a wonderful thing, Ian mused, to lie in the dark with Naomi curled against him in sleep. This was what he wanted, now, tomorrow, forever. It was almost ridiculously simple how she slipped into and completed his life.

He could imagine them there, in that big bed in the sturdy old house, year after year. With children sleeping, safe down the hall, a dog snoring on the rug.

Life would be busy with her career and his, a family to raise, a marriage to nurture, but they would do it.

His parents had. And it was what he’d seen in them, seen between them—what that bond had given him and Laura—that he wanted now for himself. For Naomi.

All he had to do was take his time, move slowly. Caution and care had brought her to him, after all. He’d given her the space to move toward physical intimacy. And she’d come to him not only willing, but eager.

It stirred his blood to think just how eager.

He’d give her a few weeks, then persuade her to move in with him. Step by step, he told himself. That was the way to handle it. He could control his impatience, his needs, when the rewards were so rich.

He’d give her room, he thought, even as he drew her closer. Then they’d have a lifetime together.

Ian hung up the phone and shook his head. His grandfather was certainly keeping in close touch lately. That made the third call in less than two weeks.

He really had to make time to get to Hyannis Port soon, Ian decided, turning back to his computer to study the wording of the writ he was composing. He’d love to take Naomi there for a quick weekend.

But …

He didn’t have a doubt in the world that if The MacGregor liked the looks of her, he’d start meddling. Hinting none too subtly about weddings, about duty, about continuing the MacGregor line. Ian grinned, changed a phrase on the screen. Little did The MacGregor know that was exactly what his grandson had in mind.

And Ian wanted to keep it that way.

He glanced up at the knock on his open door, lifted a brow at his mother.

“Busy?”

“Not too.”

She walked in, tall, slim, her dark hair swept back from a strong and beautiful face. Then she dropped a load of files on his desk. “Gee, now you are.”

“Not the Perinsky matter.”

Diana smiled cheerfully at her son’s distress. “Got it in one. This time she’s determined to sue her neighborhood market for not carrying her brand of tea. Claims it’s violating her civil rights.”

He thumbed through a file. It was full of the paperwork Mrs. Perinsky loved to generate. Old bat, Ian thought, but not without some reluctant affection. “Laura’s so much better with her.” He lifted hopeful blue eyes.

“Mrs. Perinsky likes you best.” With a laugh, Diana leaned a hip on his desk. “I think she has a thing for you, sweetheart.”

“She’s a hundred and fifty, at the very least.”

“And hasn’t forgotten the thrill of having a handsome young man at her beck and call. I know it’s a pain, Ian, but she’s been a client since before you were born.”

“Since before
you
were born,” he muttered, and made Diana laugh again.

“Nearly, but in any case, she’s just lonely and looking for attention. You’ll give her a little, eat some of her cookies and talk her out of filing a nuisance suit against her very harassed grocer.”

“I can do that. But then you’ll owe me.”

“Would a home-cooked meal balance the scales?”

He considered. Anything involving Mrs. Perinsky required stiff payment. “Maybe if it was a pot roast with the works, it could come close.”

“I think we can arrange that. Sunday work for you?”

“It would if you could stretch it to include one more.”

“Naomi?”

“Yeah.” Since they hadn’t really discussed it, or her, Ian studied his mother’s face. “Is that all right with you?”