Eleven
The phone rang in the other room and Connor groaned. Emma, suspended in mid-heaven, lay still, stunned by the invasive sound. He stopped long enough to feel for his cell phone. He pushed the first speed dial number.
“No calls for a while, Marie. No interruptions,” he added curtly. “I’m eating crow.”
There was an audible chuckle on the other end. He turned off the phone and tossed it in the general direction of the coffee table, where it landed with a soft thud.
“And after crow,” he whispered, bending back to Emma’s soft mouth, “we have dessert.”
His mouth descended on her soft breasts again. She was vaguely aware that she no longer had a stitch of clothing on to hide her body from him. Not that he could see her. But his hands were seeing her, learning her, exploring every inch of her. So was the hard, warm, sensuous mouth that was arousing sensations she’d never felt in her life.
Some part of her was aware that he felt different now. His warm, muscular, hair-roughened chest was pressing against her bare breasts. His legs, like tree trunks, had a feathering of hair that she felt as he moved in between her own soft thighs.
She began to panic, but his mouth gentled on hers and he touched her again, making her moan with sensations so joyful that she felt she was going to explode with every movement of his fingers.
He probed between her thighs while he kissed her. She felt him smile against her mouth. It wasn’t going to be hard for her. She flinched in pain, but only for a second. Then he slowly thrust deeper, and she made a sound that seemed to electrify him.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispered as her hips arched. “Do that. Do it again. Do you feel how easy it is? I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“No,” she choked. She barely heard him. Her nails were biting into his shoulders with every slow, deep movement of his hips. She’d been afraid of this all her life, but it wasn’t hurting—only a little, just a little. Beyond pain was pleasure. So much pleasure! The tension was tearing her apart. She ached to have him even deeper. She loved what he was doing to her, loved the closeness, the hunger of it, the feel of all that warm strength under her hands. She was focused on some distant goal, some sweet prize that hung just out of reach.
“Please,” she whispered as his hips moved a little roughly, as his knee pushed her legs apart even more.
One big hand went under her, to lift her up to the hard, quick thrust of him.
“Soon,” he whispered roughly. “Oh, God, Emma, Emma...”
He began to shudder helplessly. He felt her body suddenly arch under him and shiver as she cried out. Then he drove into her furiously, his face buried in her damp throat, one big hand supporting her neck, the other lifting her rhythmically to the quick, rough movement of his hips.
“Oh, God!” He groaned in agony as fulfillment brought him into actual convulsions, the pleasure so intense. His hands were hurting her, but she hardly felt it. Her body was pulsing with his, so racked with pleasure that she thought she couldn’t live through its culmination.
A minute later, he shuddered once more and his heavy body collapsed onto hers, wet with sweat, shaking in the aftermath of something he’d never dreamed he could feel with a woman.
Emma lay under him as the sweet pleasure drained away and she was left with a cold, sick numbness in her mind. She’d given him what he wanted. She couldn’t pull away in time. She’d sold out all her sterling ideals for a few minutes of pleasure, and now her conscience was going to haunt her forever. Hot tears ran down her cheeks.
He felt them against his cheek. He lifted his head and winced. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, honey,” he whispered, kissing the tears away. “Did I hurt you? Was I too quick?” He moved slowly against her, making the sensitized flesh suddenly ripple with pleasure all over again. “Here,” he whispered softly. “I can hold out a little longer. Move with me. Move with me, baby, I’ll make it right.”
He didn’t understand. She tried to open her mouth, to tell him, but the pleasure took her again almost at once. What she’d already felt was devastating, but there were apparently levels of pleasure, and the first fulfillment had only been a plateau. She went up another, and another, until she shuddered with such ecstasy that she clenched her teeth onto his broad, bare shoulder and moaned piteously as the wave washed over her again and again.
“There,” he whispered tenderly, when she lay still and shivering faintly under the crush of him. “Better?”
She made a soft sound under her breath. Her nails bit into him and she buried her face in his damp throat. He rolled away from her, onto his side, and drew her close again. His big hand smoothed over her cheek. He drew in a long, exhausted breath and kissed her forehead.
She lay with her hand on his broad chest. The thick hair was damp. His skin was cool from the sweat. The hair tickled her fingers as they burrowed into it. She was quiet.
His arm contracted. “It will have to be a civil ceremony, for now,” he murmured. “We’ll do it right later on. But I don’t want to be surrounded by reporters eager to dig into every corner of your life.”
“A ceremony?” Her mind wasn’t working.
He kissed her forehead again and stretched, groaning a little. “Honey, it’s like eating potato chips,” he mused. “You won’t be able to keep me out of your bed after this and what we feel will show.” He sobered. “And damned if I’m having you gossiped about, even by my closest friends.”
“A ceremony.” She still wasn’t getting it.
He rolled over toward her. His big hand smoothed over her firm, soft breast. He bent his head and kissed it tenderly. “A wedding ceremony, Emma,” he said gently.
She felt the blood drain out of her face. “You mean, you want to...marry me?” she faltered. “But I’m ordinary, and I’m not pretty...!”
“You have a heart as big as the world,” he replied. “It doesn’t matter what you look like. I can’t see you, anyway.” He sighed. “The one regret I have is that I couldn’t see your face this first time together,” he added quietly. “I’ve never been the first, Emma. Never in my life. It’s something I’ll treasure forever.”
“It’s guilt, isn’t it,” she began worriedly.
He put a finger over her mouth. “It’s impossible to feel guilt after an experience like that,” he mused. “You were a virgin and you went off like a rocket. My head wouldn’t fit through any door in the house right now.”
“Oh.” She laughed softly.
“So no, it’s not guilt. Pride, maybe. Hunger. Delight.” He yawned. “And now I’m sleepy. Jet lag is lethal if you indulge it. We’ll get dressed and go tell Marie and Barnes. They’ll have to come with us. We’ll need witnesses.”
“Where will we go?”
“Las Vegas,” he said, grinning. “We’ll get married, then play the slot machines.”
“Are you sure?” she worried, feeling even more guilty because she knew something that she didn’t dare tell him.
“I don’t know why, but yes, I’m sure,” he replied. He touched her face gently. “I’m very sure.”
* * *
After they dozed a while in each other’s arms, they dressed, in between kisses, and he slipped his phone into his pocket.
“I suppose we both look rumpled and guilty as sin,” he said with twinkling eyes.
“I guess so.”
“Might as well face the music.” He caught her hand in his and let her lead him to the door, which she unlocked as quietly as possible.
Marie was in the kitchen, working on supper. She turned. Her eyes widened at the sight of them and she had to conceal a grin.
“We’re going to Las Vegas to get married,” Connor announced. “All of us.” He grinned. “But nobody can know. Just us.”
“Oh, sir, congratulations!” Marie said. She hugged Emma, fighting tears. “I’m so happy for both of you!”
“Maybe we should wait,” Emma said worriedly.
“Not on your life,” Connor said. “Barnes!”
The older man, who’d been out back, came inside. “Yes, sir?”
“We’re going to Las Vegas to get married. Everybody start packing.”
“Mr. Sinclair, this is so sudden,” Barnes drawled. “And you haven’t even brought me flowers or taken me on a date...”
“Throw something at him for me,” Connor told Emma with a chuckle.
“I’ll just go get you packed, then. Congratulations, miss,” Barnes said with a broad grin at Emma.
“Thanks! But he’ll probably come to his senses on the way and turn back,” Emma teased.
Connor felt for her hand. “No. He won’t,” he said with affection in his tone. “Pack.”
“Yes, boss,” she said at once and ran to do it, pushing her conscience and her guilt out of the way. She was going to marry the man she loved. It was going to be the happiest day of her life. Complications could wait, and if there was a cost later on, she’d pay it. For now, she was going to be happy, truly happy, for the first time in her life.