The Wicked and the Wondrous Page 16

  “I’m supposed to say that to you.” He stretched out beside her, gathered her into his arms to hold her to him. “I want to lie here with you for a very long time.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder, fitting her body more closely to his. “I wouldn’t mind staying here for the rest of the winter, locked away in our own private world.” She stretched languidly, pleased to be able to relax. To have him holding her with such gentleness.

  Matt knew she was tired, and it was enough to hold her in his arms, even with his body raging at him and her body so soft and inviting and open to his. His mouth drifted down the side of her neck. She snuggled closer, turning her head toward the Christmas tree, giving him even better access.

  “I love the way you smell,” he said. Because he couldn’t resist, he slid his palm over her skin. He’d never felt anything so soft. He traced her ribs, a gentle exploration, not in the least demanding, simply wanting to touch her. Her soft belly called to him, a mystery for a breast man, but he loved the way she reacted each time he caressed her there.

  Kate smiled. “I love the feel of your hands.”

  “I’ve always hated my hands. Workingman hands, rough and big and meant for manual labor.”

  “Meant to bring pleasure to a woman, you mean,” she contradicted, and caught his hand to bring it to her lips. She kissed the pads of his fingers, nibbled on the tips, and drew one into her mouth.

  He caught his breath, aching with love, burning up with need. “Everything about you is so damned feminine, Kate. Sometimes I’m afraid if I touch you, I’m going to break you.” He measured her wrist loosely by circling it with his thumb and index finger.

  She laughed and rubbed her body against his affectionately, almost like a contented cat. “I doubt you have to worry about breaking me. This thing with the fog is draining, but I recover quickly.” She frowned, even as she ran her fingertips along the hard column of his thigh. “I am a little worried about Hannah though, and now Elle.”

  He was very much aware of her fingers so close to his throbbing erection. She was tapping out a little rhythm on his upper thigh. His stomach constricted, and his blood thickened. The lights on the Christmas tree blinked on and off in harmony with the drumming of her fingers. Every tap brought a surge of heat through his body. “The doctors said Elle was going to be fine. She’ll have a whale of a headache, though, and Jackson was right about her ribs and arm, but she’ll heal fast with Libby around.”

  Matt cupped her breast in his hands, his thumbs teasing her nipples into taut pebbles. He felt her response, the swift intake of breath. The flush that covered her body. “It seems such a miracle to me to be able to touch you like this. I wonder if every other man knows what a miracle a woman’s body is.”

  “And all this time, I thought the miracle was a man’s body.” Kate ran her fingernails lightly along his belly.

  “Maybe the miracle is just that I finally managed to stop you from hiding from me,” Matt decided. He bent his head, flickered her nipple with his tongue, made a lazy foray around the areola. She moved slightly, turning to give him better access.

  “I’ve been thinking about the fog. Something isn’t quite right.”

  “Quite right?” He lifted his head to look at her, arching his eyebrow. The Christmas lights were playing red and green and blue over her stomach. A bright red light glowed across the small triangle of curls at the junction of her legs. It was distracting and made it hard to concentrate on conversation. He slipped his hand in the middle of the flashing light, watched his fingers stroke the nest of curls, felt Kate shiver, and pushed his fingers deep into her warm wet sheath. She pushed back against him, a soft moan escaping. He dipped his head to find her breast, suckling strongly. “What are you thinking, Kate?” His tongue swirled over her nipple, and he pushed deeper inside her until her hips began a helpless ride.

  “He isn’t going after Hannah. Why attack me? Or Elle? Or even Abbey? He should go after Hannah. She summons the wind to drive him out to sea. She stops him.” Her words came in little short bursts. She gasped as she pushed against his hand, as her body tightened with alarming pressure, with the pure magic of passion shared with Matthew.

  “Take the pins out of your hair,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I love your hair down. You look very sexy with your hair down.”

  “You think I look sexy no matter what,” she pointed out.

  His teeth teased her nipple, nibbled over her breast. “True, but I love the hair.”

  “You won’t love it when it’s falling all over you.” But she was lifting her arms, pulling out pins and scattering them in every direction while he shifted her, lowering his body into the cradle of her hips, thrusting deep inside her.

  She cried out when he surged forward. Whips of lightning danced through her blood. “Matthew.” There was a plea for mercy, and he hadn’t even gotten started.

  “We have all the time in the world, Katie,” he whispered, his lips sliding over her throat, her chin, and up to her mouth. His strong hips paused, waiting. She held her breath. He thrust hard, a long stroke surging deep to bury himself completely within her. A coming home. She was velvet soft and tight and fiery hot. He wanted a long slow night with her. His hands shaped her body, stroking and caressing every inch of her.

  “I don’t feel like we have all the time in the world.” She protested, breathless, arching her hips to meet the impact of his. “I feel like I’m going to go up in flames.”

  “Then do it,” he encouraged. “Come for me a hundred times. Over and over. Scream for me, Kate. I love you so much. I love watching you come for me. And I love your body, every square inch of it. I want to spend the night worshiping you.”

  Kate wanted the same thing. She did scream, clutching at the bedcovers for an anchor as her body fragmented, and she went spinning off into space. She couldn’t tell if the whirling colors were behind her eyes or from the Christmas tree lights. She found it didn’t matter when he caught her hips firmly, held her still, and began surging into her once more with his slow, deep strokes.

  chapter

  11

  In the stocking hung with gentle care,

  A mystery, I know, is hidden there.

  MATT WOKE ALREADY AROUSED. HE WAS thick and aching, so tight he thought he’d burst through his own skin. The blankets had fallen onto the floor as if he had spent a long, restless night. His body was stark naked and mercilessly aroused. He looked down at Kate. She smiled up at him, her sea-green eyes sultry, her hands moving gently over his flat stomach. Her long hair spilled over his hips and thighs, teasing every nerve ending. He knotted a long strand around his fist. “I dreamed of you, Kate.”

  Her smile was that of a temptress. “I hope it was a good dream.” She bent her head to her task, lovingly stroking her tongue over the thick inviting length of him, sliding the velvet knob into the heated tightness of her mouth.

  Matt gasped as the pleasure/pain of it rocked him. “How could it not be?” he asked when he got his breath back. Her tongue made a teasing foray along the rigid length and stroked over him before she once again slid her mouth around him.

  He closed his eyes, his hips surging forward, wanting more, needing more, as waves of heat spread through his body, as every muscle clenched and tightened. Kate’s fist wrapped him up while her mouth performed miracles. “I don’t know if I’ll survive this, Kate.”

  Her answer was muffled, her breath warm and enticing, her mouth hot and tight. He was certain he felt her laughter vibrate through his entire body. There was joy in Kate. That was her secret, he decided. Joy in everything she did with him. She didn’t pretend not to enjoy his body, she reveled in exploring him, teasing him, driving him to the very edge of his control.

  Kate kissed her way up his belly and over his chest. She mounted him, the way an accomplished horseback rider smoothly slides aboard a horse, settling her body over his with exquisite slowness. She put up her hands and he took them so she could use leverage as her body rose and fell, stroki
ng his. Her hair spilled around her, adding to her allure as her full breasts bounced and beckoned with every movement. She threw her head back, arched back, moving differently, tightening muscles until he was certain he would explode.

  “Kate.” Her name was a husky, almost hoarse sound, escaping from his constricted throat. His lungs burned. A fire spread through his belly, centered in his groin, and gathered into a wild conflagration. He couldn’t take his gaze from her. There was a sheen to her skin, a flush over her body. She moved with a woman’s sensuous grace and mystery. “The feel of your hair on my legs and belly makes me crazy.” It should have tickled his skin, but the silky fall brushed over sensitive nerve endings and added to the heat and fire building in the deep within him. He felt as if every part of his body was being pulled in that direction.

  Kate moved with exquisite slowness, undulating her body, sending him right out of his mind. The erotic visual only increased his raging hunger for her. In the soft morning sunlight, her hair flashed red streaks, and her pale skin seemed made of dewy petals. Most of all, the expression on her face, deeply absorbed in the ride of lust and love and passion, shook his entire being. He could read the way her body began to build pressure, her muscles clenching tightly, gripping him strongly. He could see it on her face, the rapture, the passion, the intensity of the orgasm as it overtook her. He watched her ride it out, watched the excitement and pleasure on her face, in her body. Seeing her like that heightened his own pleasure, and he wanted more, wanted her flushed body to feel it again and again and bring his body to his own explosive orgasm.

  He caught her hips in his hands, taking control, guiding her ride, thrusting upward hard as she slid down over him, encasing him in a fist of hot velvet. He shuddered with pleasure, feeling the pressure building relentlessly. He could feel her body preparing for a second shock, the muscles tightening around him, adding to the intensity of his explosion. It shook him, a volcano going off, detonating from the inside out, taking everything in its path. He caught her to him, fighting for air, fighting to regain some sense of where he was, of a time and place, not fantasyland, where his every dream came true. It seemed impossible to be lying on his living room floor, his heart raging at him, his body in ecstasy, and the love of his life in his arms. His world had been guns and sand and jungles and an enemy fighting to kill him. Women like Kate were not real and they didn’t wind their arms around his neck and rain kisses all over his face and tell him he was too sexy to be alive.

  They lay together just holding one another, trying to get their heart rates back to normal and to push air through their lungs. Kate lay stretched out on top of Matt, pressing her soft body tightly against his. Beneath her, he suddenly stiffened.

  “What the hell is that?” he growled, hearing a noise outside the house.

  Kate gasped and rolled off of him, landing on the pile of blankets. “We have company, Matthew,” she whispered, gathering the sheets around her.

  He sat up abruptly, his breath hissing through his teeth. He’d asked for a night with Kate, he should have asked for the entire damned week. He was never going to get enough of her, never be sated. “I thought I’d at least get you for a few more hours,” he groused as he padded naked across the floor. He suddenly halted halfway to the door and uttered a string of curses. “It’s my parents.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. She clutched the sheet to her naked breasts. “What?”

  “My parents,” he announced. He reached down to help her up. “Why is it that even when you’re grown, parents can make you feel like a teenager caught in the act?”

  Kate wrapped the sheet around her and hurried toward his bedroom while Matt scooped up the blankets and followed her. “Did you get caught in the act often?”

  “Are you laughing at me?” he asked, a dangerous glint in his silver eyes.

  “Only because I’m disappearing into the bathroom to leave you to face the music alone. You might get dressed.” She grinned mischievously at him as she gathered up her clothes and retreated behind a securely locked door.

  Matt caught sight of the wisp of peach-colored lace that lay on the floor and found a wicked smile stealing over his face. He stooped down and picked it up, bunching it into his hand before shoving it into the pocket of his jacket, which was lying on the back of a chair. He dragged on clothes as fast as he could, combing his hair with his fingers just as the polite knock on his door came.

  He could hear Kate laughing, and it was contagious. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he opened the front door. Victoria Granite threw her arms around her son and hugged him hard. “You frightened us, Matt! We called and called and you never answered. First there was a fire here and Danny told us about that horrible incident at the store and then a call went out and…”

  “Victoria, take a breath,” Harold Granite advised. He smiled lovingly at his wife, used to her run-on sentences. “We heard the fog came in last night, and Elle Drake went over the cliff. Victoria was worried.”

  Matt’s mother made a face. “Really, Harold, I knew he was perfectly fine; you were the one who spent the entire morning trying to call him and pacing back and forth like a wild tiger. I was fine!”

  Matt met his father’s gaze over the top of his mother’s head. They both stifled a knowing grin. “I’m sorry, Dad. I should have remembered after all these years, how you worry.”

  Victoria smiled and patted Harold’s arm. “There, dear, you see there was nothing at all to worry about. All that pacing.” She shook her head, stopping in midsentence as she looked up at the mantel and the candles that had burned down to the holders. “Oh my goodness.” She looked around carefully. “Matthew Granite, you had a woman here last night, didn’t you?”

  “Mom, once I turned thirty, I thought we agreed I didn’t have to talk about women with you.”

  From the bedroom came the sound of a door closing. His parents exchanged a long, satisfied look. Victoria arched her eyebrow at her son. “She’s still here?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. And don’t start on her, Mom. I don’t want her scared off. This is the one.”

  There was another startled silence. “Kate’s here?” Harold asked, clearly astonished. “Kate Drake?”

  “Of course it’s Kate,” Victoria said.

  Kate came out of the bedroom with a bright smile and desperation in her eyes. She was wearing one of his shirts over her thin white blouse. Matthew was instantly mortified. He thought he would tease her, and at the same time, he’d have the added pleasure of knowing she was sitting beside him in the warmth of his car without a bra. He’d planned to slip his hand inside the white silk of her blouse and caress her soft creamy skin. The idea alone had made him as hard as a rock. It hadn’t occurred to him that her blouse was sheer enough that her darker nipples would show so alluringly.

  Kate always presented a near flawless appearance to the world, and he realized immediately when he saw the desperation in her eyes that it was her armor. She wore her clothes and hair and makeup to keep people from seeing the real Kate. The vulnerable Kate. The Kate she shared only with her sisters, and now with him.

  “Hello Mrs. Granite, Mr. Granite,” she greeted.

  Matthew drew the edges of his shirt together around her, sliding several buttons in place. He bent to kiss her, shielding her from his parents’ scrutiny for a brief moment. When he was certain she was sufficiently covered, he circled her waist with his arms and held her in front of him. He could feel her soft unbound breasts pushing against his arms. Instantly his body reacted, thickening, hardening, an ache pounding through his blood. He held her close to him, covering the painful bulge stretching the material of his jeans. Kate was without mercy, slowly and sensuously rubbing her round bottom over the hard ridge. “I would very much like to visit, but Elle’s in the hospital, and we have to go by Kate’s house before we go to see her.” Was that his voice? It sounded thick and husky to his ears. He was even afraid color burned in his face. His palms itched to cup Kate’s breasts in his hands.
The soft weight on his arms was driving him crazy. His mouth had actually gone dry. And if she didn’t stop the way she was rubbing against him, he was going to shock everyone right then and there. “Let’s have dinner tonight,” he suggested, in desperation making eye contact with his father.

  Harold, taking the cue, caught Victoria’s elbow firmly.

  “Danny will be spending the evening with Trudy Garret and her little boy at the Grange. Santa Claus is stuffing stockings and delivering presents around seven. We were going to watch,” Victoria said. “Can we plan for another night?”

  “Tomorrow is the pageant rehearsal,” Matt said. “You all are in that. Maybe we can grab dinner afterward.”

  “There’s never time.” Harold shook his head, but headed across the living room to the front door. “The pageant rehearsal never runs smoothly, and we’re always there until midnight.”

  “Good point,” Matt agreed. “Don’t worry, Mom, we’ll have dinner together soon.” He walked them to the door. “Who’s playing Santa Claus this year?”

  Harold grinned. “No one’s supposed to know, Matt.” He went out into the light drizzle and paused. “Jeff Burley broke his leg a couple of weeks ago. He’s done it every year, and we had a bit of trouble finding a replacement. Everyone’s afraid of the fog. Some of the townspeople think it’s some kind of alien invasion.”