“We are the pair, aren’t we?”
Lifting his head again, he met her gaze and said, “She has her job back.”
“Thank you,” she said, mildly surprised that it was taken care of so easily. Over so quickly. Her body was still buzzing from a combination of anger and desire and now…she had to leave.
But his hands on her shoulders were hard and tender and warm. Heat from his skin seeped into hers, chasing away the chill she’d been carrying for what felt like forever. She’d held strong against her own wants and needs, thinking that to be with him now would only make the parting that much harder.
Yet she was deceiving no one. Their parting would devastate her no matter the circumstances. Would one more night together really add to the pain? Or would it be an easing of sorts?
As if he could read her mind, he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in the curve of her neck. His lips on her skin sent ripples of awareness coursing through her. His hands running up and down her spine caused every cell in her body to jump up and shout for joy.
Her heart ached, her body burned and her mind knew it could never stand against heart and soul and body, so it quietly closed up shop and allowed Maura to only feel. For this, she didn’t want to think. Didn’t need to think.
This, what lay between them, was good and strong and so powerful the only thing either of them needed was their instincts, drawing them together.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, lifting his head again, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. “I didn’t want to,” he admitted next, “but I did. You’re in me, Maura, and now I need to be in you.”
“I need that, as well.” She sighed, lifting her mouth for his. He claimed a kiss, moving his mouth over hers with an aching tenderness that made her want to weep with the beauty of it.
There was a gentleness in his touch that took the hard edge off the need pulsing between them. Maura felt his quiet control and sighed for it.
Here was home, she thought, her mind sliding into a wonderfully hazy oblivion as emotion and sensation took the forefront. Here was where she wanted to be. Yearned to be. In his arms. Always.
He skimmed one hand up, into her hair to the back of her neck. He held her head steady while his mouth plundered hers and she gave herself up to the amazement flooding her system.
How had she thought she could go the rest of her life without feeling this? Experiencing this? How had she lasted months without the caress of his hands on her skin? And how would she make it through the rest of her life without him?
“Be with me,” he whispered, already leading her through the seating area to the bedroom beyond.
He moved her as if they were dancing, one arm around her waist now, one hand holding hers close to his heart. She looked up into his eyes as the room slowly whirled around her and knew she’d dance anywhere with him.
“Be with me.” She repeated his words to her and his swift intake of breath, coupled with a flash deep in his eyes, were all that told her how she had touched him.
Chapter Ten
In the bedroom, she saw the balcony doors were open, a soft, cold breeze sliding into the room, ruffling lacy white sheers. From the street below came the muted sounds of pub music, riding the wind. One lamp in the room was on, spilling enough golden light to chase away shadows.
Then he stopped alongside the wide bed and helped her out of the sweater she wore. Beneath was a plain white shirt that he quickly unbuttoned and tossed aside. He unhooked her bra with a surprising agility and then dispensed with her boots, jeans and underwear. In moments, she was unclothed before him and feeling just a bit hesitant about her changing body.
He hadn’t seen her na**d since the night they’d made their child. And since then, she’d gained a little weight and her belly was rounded with the growing baby.
She watched him as he gazed at her and she saw his eyes soften when he looked at her abdomen. Suddenly uneasy, she said, “I’ve changed, I know.”
“Yes,” he said, lifting his gaze to hers even as he laid the flat of one hand against the mound of their child. “You’re even more beautiful.”
“Oh,” Maura told him, a smile curving her mouth, “you’ve the gift of the Irish for saying exactly the right thing at the right time.”
He smiled, too, then said, “You’re shivering. I’ll close the window.”
“No, don’t,” she told him. “The weather isn’t what’s making me tremble, Jefferson. It’s need, is all. Need for you.”
He swallowed hard and reached past her to pull back the quilt and sheets covering the bed. “Get under the covers anyway,” he said and waited until she had.
Then hurriedly, he stripped out of his own clothes and joined her under the down comforter. Maura moved into him and instinctively aligned her body with his. The slide of his skin against hers felt so right. So perfect. She sighed in contentment, shifting her hands over his broad, muscled back, up to encircle his neck and then plunging her fingers into his hair, drawing his head to hers.
Lips met, tongues entangled and breath was exchanged for breath. They came together as silently, as magically as if they’d been born for this and only this.
Sensations rose up and crashed inside her and Maura could only hold on to him as he covered her body with his. He parted her thighs, she lifted her h*ps to welcome him and in the soft light of that luxurious room, he claimed her as he had before. He slid into her heat, her depths and in the taking, gave. In the giving, took. Hearts beat as one. Bodies moved together in perfect rhythm and sighing groans filled the air like blessings.
He kissed her as the first wave of completion caught her and she cried out his name as her soul shattered under his tender hands. Only moments later, she held him to her as his body released into hers and he collapsed atop her.
In the quiet stillness, minutes or hours could have gone by.
All Maura knew was that she didn’t want this night to end. Didn’t want to lose Jefferson. Yet, she couldn’t think of a way to keep him. Not and keep her pride, as well. Could the man not see that he loved her? She felt it in his touch. Saw it in his eyes. Sensed the gentleness beneath the passion and knew that it didn’t come only from desire. From lust. There was feeling there—and it was more than affection.
Yet, he pulled back from the mention of three small words. Held himself safely distanced from the risk of love. What was it, she wondered, that made him so determined to avoid giving his heart?