Chapter Eighteen
“You reserved us a cabin at Seashore Hideaway?” Maddy whispered, sinking down in her seat as she glanced around.
William frowned over at her. “Is there a problem?” he asked, looking at the office and then at the cabins scattered in a grove of tall oaks down by the ocean. “Trace said this was a clean, well-run establishment.”
“You asked Trace to recommend a motel?” she squeaked, her face turning bright pink as she looked at him in horror.
“Nay, he’s the one who suggested I bring ye to a motel, seeing how going parking no longer appears to be an option for us. What in hell’s the matter, Madeline? I thought you’d be pleased to have a nice bed instead of an old cloth on the ground.”
“But . . . but . . .” She waved toward the office even as she sank farther in her seat. “Samuel’s daughter owns Seashore Hideaway. If she sees me here with you, she’ll tell Samuel, and then everyone at the nursing home will know we . . . that you and I are . . . wait, you told Trace we’re having an affair?”
William dropped his head onto the steering wheel with a groan. “Christ’s teeth, I don’t think I’ve ever had so much trouble getting a lass out of her underpants,” he muttered. Keeping his head on the wheel, he turned just enough to glare at her. “Maddy, darling,” he said softly, not even caring if she heard the edge in his voice, “what do ye suggest we do, then? Because I’m still hanging.”
Her eyes widened, her lips forming a perfect O.
William straightened with a heavy sigh and reached to start the truck.
Maddy covered his hand. “We’ll stay here,” she said huskily.
“I don’t want to embarrass you to your residents.” He smiled tightly. “I believe I’ve done quite enough of that already.”
“You can go in and register while I wait in the truck,” she said, still holding her hand over his. “Just make up a fictitious name for me and tell them I’m . . . your wife,” she finished, her blush kicking up another notch.
“Are ye sure?”
“Yes, William, I’m sure.” She gave him a slow smile. “And you don’t have to worry about getting me out of my panties, because I’m not wearing any.”
He sucked in a breath as his gaze snapped to her lap. “I’m glad ye didn’t tell me that earlier,” he growled thickly, “or there wouldn’t have been a mailbox left standing between here and Midnight Bay.”
She laughed at that, though a bit nervously, and pushed on his shoulder. “Go register. I’ll just stay here and hide,” she said, sinking back down in her seat.
Not giving her time to change her mind—or find another problem—William bolted from the truck and practically ran to the office. But he hesitated at the door. He’d been counting on Madeline to help him register, as he wasn’t quite sure what was expected, not having dared to ask Mabel how one went about renting a place to spend a weekend of debauchery with a good friend of her daughter’s.
He looked back at the truck and saw just the top of Maddy’s head peeking at him, and waved at her and then walked inside. “I called this afternoon and reserved one of your cabins,” he said to the woman behind the counter—who did look a bit like Samuel.
“Your name, please?” she asked, giving him a smile and then tapping a few keys on her computer.
“William Killkenny.”
She glanced at him in surprise. “William Killkenny? Would you happen to be the gentleman my father’s been telling me about? Samuel Keating? He lives at the River Run Nursing Home over in Midnight Bay.”
William inwardly groaned even as he smiled at the woman. “I’m sorry; I don’t know anyone named Keating. It must be another William Killkenny you’re referring to.”
She shrugged and hit a few more keys on the computer, and then held out her hand. “If you’ll just give me your credit card, I’ll run it through and give you your key. The reservation says you asked for two nights. Is that correct?”
“I don’t have a credit card. I intend to pay with cash.”
She blinked at him and dropped her hand. “Oh. Okay. Then I’ll have to see your driver’s license, Mr. Killkenny. The law requires I photocopy it, and keep it on file.”
William reached in his back pocket, took out his wallet, and handed her the piece of paper they’d given him when he’d taken his written test.
She took it with a frown. “This is a learner’s permit.”
“I’ve only just recently moved here from Ireland.”
Still frowning, she walked over to a machine on the side counter, slapped the paper onto a piece of glass, and pushed a button that made a bright light come on.
“This says you live in Midnight Bay,” she said, reading his permit as she walked back with it and the piece of paper the machine had spit out. She looked at him again. “That’s quite a coincidence, there being two William Killkennys in Midnight Bay.”
He merely shrugged, saying nothing.
She handed him back his permit and shot him what appeared to be a secretive smile. “We don’t have many locals who stay here, at least not for two . . . whole nights.”
William felt beads of sweat break out on his forehead. Why in hell did everything have to be so bloody difficult in this century? For chrissakes, all he wanted to do was bury himself in Madeline’s softness. “The friends I’ve been staying with have company, and I offered to give up my bed,” he said tightly.
She glanced out the window. “Are you alone, Mr. Killkenny?” She suddenly laughed. “Of course not, you need a licensed driver if all you have is a permit.”
“My wife is with me.”
She tapped a few more keys on her computer. “Her name?”
“Gwendolyn,” he said, figuring he was well on his way to hell already, so he might as well speed up the journey by using his poor sainted mother’s name.
While the woman typed “Gwendolyn” into her computer, William stuffed his permit back in his wallet. Another machine spit out two more pieces of paper, and she slid one toward him, along with a pen.
“Sign right here, Mr. Killkenny. That will be three hundred sixty-eight dollars and seventy-two cents.” She smiled apologetically. “That’s our summer rates, but they’ll lower to off-season at the end of September . . . if you happened to find yourself needing a . . . bed again.”
William took out four hundred dollars and handed it to her. “Keep the change,” he said, snatching up the second sheet of paper, assuming it was his receipt like at the restaurants. He started for the door, just wanting to get the hell out of there. “Give the extra to the woman who cleans, if ye wish.”
“Mr. Killkenny!” she called out. “Your key.”
Dammit to hell. He spun around and strode back to the counter. “Thank ye.”
“It’s cabin seven, the last one on the right by the beach. There’s coffee in the room, and breakfast is complimentary at our diner. Just show them your room receipt,” she called after him.
He waved the receipt over his shoulder as he went out the door. “Thank ye.”
He got in the truck and started the engine before he even finished settling into the seat. “Open the glovebox and put those boxes in your purse,” he told Maddy, who was practically sitting on the floor now.
William forced himself to drive slowly down the narrow path toward the cabin.
“Ten?” Maddy suddenly squeaked, her gaze snapping to him. “You bought ten boxes of condoms?”
He pulled up beside cabin seven, shut off the engine, and looked at her. “That was all they had at the supermarket.”
Her expression turned horrified again. “You walked into the Shop ’n Save in town, and bought ten boxes of condoms?” she said in a near shout.
William took all of the boxes out of the glovebox and stuffed one into his shirt pocket, and then shoved the others into her purse on her lap. “Get out of the truck, Madeline,” he commanded softly, opening his door and getting out.
Seeing her staring at him through the windshield, wide-eyed and utterly still, he started around the front of the truck with every intention of carrying her inside. But she suddenly scrambled out, and slinging her heavy purse over her shoulder, scooted past him and ran up onto the porch.
William got the key out of his pocket, crammed it into the lock, and opened the door. He pulled her inside and pushed her back against the closing door. He covered her mouth with his own—not even flinching when her purse hit the floor.
She didn’t balk or complain or get all shy on him all of a sudden; nay, she met his demand with a hunger that rivaled his own. Only instead of wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his shirttails out of his pants and started unbuckling his belt.
He gathered up fistfuls of material in his hands, wondering why in hell the woman kept wearing such long skirts. And what did he find when he finally got the hem high enough to slide his hands beneath it? As promised, he didn’t find anything but soft, sweet flesh, and he splayed his hands over her bottom and pulled her to his groin.
Or at least he tried to; but not surprisingly, Madeline was in his way, busy shoving her own hands down the front of his pants. He actually shouted into her mouth when one hand cupped him, the other wrapping around his rock-solid shaft.
He stepped back, not releasing her luscious bottom, so that she came with him, and broke their kiss only long enough to find the bed. Prepared to ward off a wrestling match if she got it in her head to start fondling him again, William forced himself to give up the prize in his palms and took hold of her shoulders. He eased her back onto the bed and planted his palms on either side of her, using his knees to spread her thighs.
“Condom,” she panted, reaching into the shirt pocket.
“Ye have three seconds to get it on,” he ground out.
It took her five seconds just to get the damn packet open because her hands were shaking so badly, and William suffered through a good half-minute of sweet torture as she worked it down over him.
Not even sure if she had succeeded, but having reached the limit of his patience, he shoved her hands away so he could touch her intimately; and finding her sleek and wet and ready, he pushed into her. Her breath quickened, and she gave a long, keening moan. He pushed deeper at her sound of pleasure, his entire body humming with tension at the feel of her heat quivering around him.
“Are ye okay, Madeline?” he said through gritted teeth.
“Oh God, y-yes,” she got out raggedly.
William bent at his elbows to bring his mouth close to hers. “Then hold on, lass,” he whispered, his smile turning feral when her eyes suddenly widened in alarm.
But being a wise woman, Madeline clutched his arms, digging her fingers into his muscles as she braced herself. William pushed all the way into her, then withdrew, then thrust even deeper; slowly at first then with increasing speed. When he was certain she could handle him, he finally closed his own eyes to concentrate on the feel of her penetrating heat surrounding him.
He took her hard and fast, her cries of encouragement pushing him right up to but not quite over the edge of no return. He rose up to clasp her hips, pulling her into his thrusts. “Come for me, Madeline,” he urged, spanning her hip bones and using his thumbs to spread her folds, exposing her to his ministrations.
“Now Madeline.”
“Omigod, William!” she cried, her hands clutching his arms as she tossed her head, her soft curls sticking to her dampened face.
“Come, Madeline,” he demanded, his own sweat dripping onto her clothes—which he hadn’t even bothered to take off her.
As the first tremors of her climax shuddered around him, William felt his control slip another notch, and when she cried out and bucked upward, she finished pulling him into her maelstrom of ecstasy.
He could have wept, she felt so damn good clenching around him. William held himself deeply inside her, letting her powerful spasms rock him to his very core, and several centuries of torturous despair ended with his own raw shout of fulfillment.
He very carefully lowered himself onto his elbows, keeping enough weight off her so she could breathe, and threaded his fingers through her damp curls. He began kissing her cheeks and closed eyelids, savoring her lingering quivers as they continued pulling at him deep inside her, and he started gently thrusting again.
“Again, Madeline,” he whispered, nipping her earlobe as her hot breath fanned over his neck and shoulder, her ragged panting pushing her still-confined breasts into his chest. “Again,” he urged, increasing the speed and depth of his thrusts until he felt her begin to tighten around him with rebuilding tension.
He reared up—ignoring her protests, which soon turned to sounds of approval when he shed his shirt—and reached down and unbuttoned her blouse. He lifted her up and pulled it off her, only to find another one of those damned eye-poking undergarments. He smiled at the realization she was testing his threat, and while she was busy driving him crazy by running her tongue over his chest, he reached down to his boot and pulled out his knife. Three quick cuts at the band and straps, and he immediately laid her back and settled over her again, loving her kiss-swollen lips as he resumed gently rocking her with his thrusts.
“Come for me, Madeline,” he whispered tightly, trailing his tongue down her neck, briefly stopping to sip at her racing pulse when she threw her head back. William continued his mouth’s downward journey, pulling the offending garment off and tossing it away as he gently closed his teeth over one of her nipples.
She gave a husky moan, her legs jerking as she arched her back into him again, her fingers sharply kneading his ribs. He moved to her other breast, his thrusts forcing him to suckle her swaying flesh before finding her other nipple and pulling it into his mouth. She planted her feet, bucking her hips up to meet him, and her sheath tightened violently around his shaft as she cried out her pleasure. William went perfectly still, embedded deep inside her, and let her spasms finish draining him.
He very carefully pulled out and collapsed beside her with a groan of contentment, smiling when he looked over to see her peaked nipples rising and falling as she panted uncontrollably. He rubbed his own chest, turning to smile up at the ceiling as he pictured the claw marks she’d likely left on him.
“Y-you cut off my bra again,” she raggedly whispered as she pulled her blouse over to cover herself.
Rolling to face her, William snatched it away and tossed it on the floor behind him. “I warned ye, lass. You keep putting them on and I’ll keep cutting them off.”
Her big, beautiful eyes widened, and except for her heaving chest—which she had covered with her hands now—she went perfectly still. “You’re serious,” she whispered.
“Aye,” he said, pulling her hands away. “Do not hide your beauty from me, Madeline. Clothed or naked, a man desires to see his lover’s curves.” He used a finger to trace the shape of one plump, heavy breast. “It’s the movement of your sweet curves that tempts a man, lass, and makes him hard with the thought of your soft flesh yielding to his. Do not hide from me the very thing that makes you a woman.”
Her blush traveled down from her face to her neck and then spread across the very curves under discussion, and she tore her gaze from his to stare up at the ceiling, her ragged panting only now beginning to ease.
“Um . . . please don’t take this the wrong way,” she whispered, not looking at him. “But while we’re on the topic of the do’s and don’ts of our . . . our affair, I was wondering if you . . . could please stop demanding that I come again before I’m even halfway recovered.” She finally looked over, giving him a tentative smile. “I mean, really, it’s very sweet and immensely generous of you to make sure that I’m having a good time and everything, but you’re killing me.”
“Sweet?” he said, propping his head on his hand to smile at her. “There ye go again, lass, thinking I’m sweet and thoughtful and generous, when I assure you, I am anything but.” He arched a brow. “Have ye not considered that maybe your pleasure only serves to heighten mine, when you shudder around me with the force of storm waves crashing to shore?”
She blinked at him, apparently trying to decide if he was serious.
He ran his finger down the side of her face, down her damp neck, and down over the swell of her breast until he reached her nipple, which he then gently pinched, giving a chuckle when her breath quickened and she arched into his touch with a soft moan. “I’ll settle for nothing less than all ye have to give me, Madeline,” he continued thickly, palming the weight of her breast. He leaned down as he lifted it to his mouth, suckling the nipple before releasing it with a gentle pluck, causing her to moan and start panting all over again.
He rose over her, forcing her down onto the pillow, and brought his mouth to hover just slightly above her swollen lips as his eyes bore into hers. “And when ye think ye have nothing left to give, I’m going to demand even more, because that’s my nature,” he whispered. “Which should answer some of what ye asked me the other day; part of who I am is a demanding lover, and I require a woman who not only is strong enough to meet my demands, but also brave enough to accept that part of me.”
He finally kissed her sweet lips, and then rolled onto his side again and propped his head on his hand to arch a brow at her again. “Any other questions or complaints?”
She rolled toward him, her expression unreadable as she stared at him for several heartbeats and then finally shook her head.
William planted a light but loud slap on her luscious bottom, giving a satisfied grunt at her gasp of surprise, and rolled off the bed. “Ye have exactly five minutes to recover,” he said over his shoulder as he walked to the bathroom. “And while you’re at it, ye might as well get the other boxes out of your purse and set them on the table beside the bed.”