Montgomery Manor (The Haunted Book 2), page 3
“Sure.” He grinned. “You don’t feel like bringing me back a sandwich, do you?”
Then again, perhaps he didn’t know where she planned to have lunch.
Meg hesitated for a moment after she tossed a glance back at Quint. She might not survive the lunch hour, she thought. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She turned away before Evan could notice the slow burn on her cheeks. Quint had set a fire in her soul, and she had to leave with him before she spontaneously combusted and set all her prized books on fire. “See you in a while.”
It was all she could promise.
She turned her attention to the counter where she’d left Quint. Even from across the room, he captured her with his gaze and made her feel naked, hot, vulnerable, and wanted—all at the same time. She looked down to make sure her blouse was still buttoned. “Ready?”
She walked to him, and he held out her sweater so she could slide into it. “Oh, most definitely.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d think he just set off a million sparklers inside her. She hadn’t looked up at him when he spoke. She didn’t need to look up at him. She didn’t need to look to hear the passion deepening his voice or see the desire she knew would be in his eyes. Need touched her like misty fog on a cool night, only it was hot. His heat penetrated her like the warmth of the sun and turned her legs to water. She forced them to move as she headed to the door.
She no longer cared if the Montgomery Manor was haunted. If this was what fixing it and owning it did to her husband, she liked it. She liked him. Besides, she liked legends. She liked that the house, her house, their house, was filled with them.
The work somehow gave Quint more determination, more focus, moving this part of their marriage in a new direction—one she wanted to continue.
It was a direction that led her to lunch in bed.
The early spring air was cold on her cheeks, but Meg couldn’t help but smile. The cool air didn’t begin to touch the fire Quint had started inside her.
She looked up at the man who was her husband, and he smiled down at her.
She couldn’t help but notice his smile held the confident look of a successful man.
Chapter Three
Lost in the soft music and in the touch of Quint’s hands, Meg floated in the clouds.
She looked into Quint’s passion-filled gaze, terrified to question anything, afraid to even speak lest she wake from the dream and burst the bubble he’d placed around them.
Indeed, it had to be a dream. They’d been married almost five years, had been together two years before that, and never in that time had he made her feel as she did now.
Reflected candlelight flickered against the walls of the bedroom. The day was cloudy and had held the threat of rain over them all the way home. Whether the threat played out, she had no idea. Nor did she care.
The shades on the windows drawn against the afternoon light didn’t keep it out entirely, but with candles, Meg felt lost. Lost in the touch of a lover she had never known till now.
Quint played her like a fine instrument; his hands caressed every inch of her flesh, setting it afire. Gentle and tender, warm and spiritually igniting, he all but touched every part of her being.
Yet, it wasn’t just his hands that caressed her, warmed her, embraced her. The smooth firmness of his thighs brushed against hers. The light dusting of hair on his hard chest tickled her nipples. The roughness of the 5-o’clock shadow along his jaw on her skin left her filled with want.
With his hands, he caressed the inside of her arms. And he followed the action with a touch of his lips, teasing her with his tongue. Who knew the inside of her arms was so sensitive? She wanted his hands on her breasts, but she didn’t move, couldn’t move, could hardly do more than draw in one life-giving breath after another.
But even oxygen didn’t seem so important then. Quint’s touch was life giving. Every nerve ending in her body felt awake and filled with life of its own. He gripped her hands and moved his thumbs in a deliberate circle, slowly, as he massaged her palms.
He drove her mad, each touch luring her to the brink of insanity, where she would die if he didn’t give her release. He straddled her, his muscular legs pressing against her hips. She felt his desire in every touch. It was skin against skin, warm against warm, fire against fire.
Yet, she wasn’t sure if the fire was against her skin or deep in her soul.
“Come inside of me.” Her words were breathy.
“Not yet.” His voice was rough and raw. He sounded nothing like the man who’d muttered “have a good day” early that morning after downing a bowl of cereal five minutes before leaving for the Manor.
He clasped her hands in his, lacing his fingers through hers, his weight holding her in place. He leaned down and captured her mouth with his. Meg felt like his entire body held hers in its grip. She didn’t fight against the sensation swirling through her. She forced in a deep breath and pressed her breasts against him. He groaned into her mouth before he moved to taste her throat.
“Please....” She quivered with need beneath him.
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“I haven’t touched and tasted every inch of you yet.”
She sighed and closed her eyes. “I’m pretty positive you have. I think every inch of me is on fire.”
The heat of his lips left her throat. She opened her eyes again and met his gaze through the candlelight.
The light reflected shimmers in his eyes as he grinned down at her. “You think so, do you?”
“I know so.” She sighed.
He leaned down and kissed her flesh above her collarbone. “Have I already tasted you here?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“And what about here?” The warmth of his lips never left her, and he held her hands as he moved up and nibbled on her earlobe.
She couldn’t stop the shiver that passed through her. “I think you tasted there, too, more than once.”
“Here?” He twirled his tongue at the soft hollow of her throat.
She replied with a soft moan that turned into something close to a giggle.
“You think you’re ready for me?”
“More than ready...”
He shifted with a speed and grace that surprised her. He brought his lips back to hers and at the same moment thrust into her.
Meg gasped at the sudden invasion. She couldn’t remember him ever filling her so completely, so perfectly.
He released her hands. “Touch me, Meggie, put your hands on me. I need to feel your touch.”
She did as he asked, but it felt like so much more. It was as if she melted to him, unsure where she ended and he began.
He made slow, hot love to her, each motion, each caress filled with a desperation she’d never before felt from him, and she gasped again.
He made love to her with such raw abandon.
Again and again, he drove into her, as if trying to reach a part of her he’d never before reached, taking her to the edge of reason, but not allowing her to tumble over. His kiss muffled her cries of pleasure as she held on to him. She did not simply tumble over that edge of reality. She soared over it. The room disappeared. Everything disappeared except for Quint and a bright flash of light before her eyes and the exhilarating feeling that he’d managed to send every atom of her body flying in different directions.
He halted his assault on her lips long enough to murmur, “Beautiful.”
He didn’t follow until he made sure her tumble was complete, but she didn’t think about that until much later.
Later, blowing out the candles and leaving Quint was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She took her time dressing, not wanting to give up the afternoon just yet, but she couldn’t put it off forever.
“Is something wrong?”
Meg stopped and looked at him. His voice was deeper, his words more precise and distinct. “No, it just feels like my skirt and blouse are too tight and rather uncomfortable. And it doesn’t matter what I do with them, they feel like they’re on crooked.”
“Wear something else.”
“That might raise questions I’d rather not answer.” Meg pulled against her skirt again. She licked her lips and still tasted Quint. His familiar, masculine scent lingered on her, too. And she liked that.
“So?” He reached for his shirt.
Meg stared, noticing for the first time the claw marks she’d put on his shoulder blade. Had she done that?
Yes, she had.
He put on his shirt and buttoned it, his gaze never leaving her.
She ignored his question. “What time do you want me to come for the grand opening?” The way he watched her caused her to look down to make sure she hadn’t missed a button hole.
“Can you be there by six?” He finished with his shirt and sat down on the edge of the bed to start on socks and shoes. His gaze still never left hers.
That look of desire was back in his eyes. He watched her so intently, she felt as if he were peering inside her.
She felt more exposed then than when she’d had her legs wrapped about his waist. How could he want her again so quickly? That had never happened before.
“I had planned to close early tonight and direct all my customers to the Manor.” She avoided his gaze. Not that it did any good. His deep study of her burned into her hotter than the candle she’d just blown out.
“Can you do me a favor and wear that little black velvet number you’ve got?”
“Okay.” She smiled. She was ready to go back to work, but she still didn’t want to walk away from what he’d been so willing to share with her.
She looked at him just in time to see him slowly lick his lips.
Heat rushed her cheeks. Perhaps it was best she not linger, perhaps it was best if she headed out into the spring air to cool off before she burned up completely.
He stood and stepped to her. His warmth touched her even though none of the rest of him did. She couldn’t escape his presence. She was caught, unable to move if her life depended on it. “One more thing—” He pulled her closer, and his hardness pressed against her.
“What?” She forced the one-word question from her lips. She half expected him to ask her to undress again.
“Can you pack a bag and spend the night there with me?”
She stilled. She’d wondered when this would come. The Manor was huge, plenty of bedrooms. Their house, the house they’d scraped together every penny they’d had for a down payment before they were married, was small. They had outgrown it almost before they ever moved in, and Meg always knew it wasn’t the place where they would grow old together. Still, she wasn’t so sure she was ready to give it up, either. Nor was she sure she wanted to make Montgomery Manor, a place with twenty-seven bedrooms and patrons coming to eat dinner, her permanent mailing address. But she could take things slow, one step at a time, and one night was something she could handle, given it was the grand opening. And with the way Quint looked at her…
Somehow, he’d managed to warm her up with his gaze, as if she were nothing more than putty he could mold into anything he desired.
“Sure, I’ll stay there with you.” She was lost in his gaze and could refuse him nothing.
“I fixed up the master suite just for us, Meggie. It’s our own apartment, and it’s just a bit bigger than this entire house, so it has plenty of space. And there are rooms in that wing we can add into it later if you want.”
“Really?” She said, hope lacing her tone.
“Yes, really.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “We could do that?”
“It’s our house, Meggie. We can do whatever we want with it.”
“I have to keep reminding myself. I knew about some of your plans, like adding more rooms for the Bed and Breakfast patrons, but I had no idea you planned anything like that for us. That’s so sweet. I can’t wait see it.”
“And promise me you’ll be honest. If you don’t like it for any reason, I’m open to suggestions.”
“I promise. And I hate to, but I’d better go. I doubt Evan was prepared for me to be gone so long. I hope we didn’t have a busy lunch hour like we sometimes do.”
He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her, taking his time. His lips were warm against hers, sending more of his heat into her. His taste was familiar but the rest of the kiss was new, exciting. She forced herself to pull away, otherwise poor Evan would have to spend the rest of the day trying to keep the shop afloat by himself, and Quint might miss his own grand opening.
“You’re beautiful.” Quint enunciated each word.
Meg let out a chuckle. “You act like you’ve never seen me before.”
“Maybe it’s just been a long time since I’ve looked.”
Wasn’t that what she’d thought, that he looked at her as if he’d never seen her before?
She contemplated the change in their marriage all the way back to her bookshop. Up until now, she’d always thought changes in a marriage were caused by both partners. Where did this change, this newness come from? Did it have anything to do with Quint’s owning and working on Montgomery Manor? She knew Evan teased about him being possessed by a ghost. But she didn’t—couldn’t bring herself to—believe in ghosts. The idea made her laugh. Maybe working at the Manor gave Quint new enthusiasm and determination and purpose? She could believe that.
What she did know for certain was that her insides still quaked and burned from his touch. Making love with him completed her.
Just before she reached the book shop, she remembered Evan’s sandwich and stopped at a drive thru to grab him a burger.
The shop welcomed her with its musty scent, and as she looked around, she thought of the candles Quint had lit before undressing her. She smiled. A few candles would add to the welcome of her shop, but she couldn’t take the chance having flames so close to her books. Yet, she could get a few of those battery operated candles. Those would work.
The shop also needed more chairs, places for customers to sit and look at a book as they contemplated their purchases.
“I’m back.” She didn’t need to call out to Evan. The sound of the bells over the door was enough to draw him to the front of the store.
Evan held a stack of books in his arms. “Did you have a good afternoon?”
Meg felt heat come to her face, and she couldn’t look him in the eye. To say she had a good afternoon would be the biggest understatement of the year. “Yes. Here’s your sandwich.” She handed him the paper sack.
Evan looked at her, studied her. “Gosh, Meg. Is this where he took you for lunch?” He looked at the name of the fast-food restaurant plastered all over the small sack.
“Why?” It was impossible to speak to Evan and not look at him at the same time. She had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him Quint took her to the moon.
“You look wonderful, that’s why. I mean not that you usually don’t, you just look,” he paused as he searched for the right word. “I don’t know, just different, like you’re glowing, like you got some great news or something. I hope I feel and look like you do after I eat this.”
She chuckled and tried to keep a poker face despite the heat that filled it, but kept to herself that while she didn’t get any news, she did get something great. Hell, she just got the greatest sex of her life.
“And who was that guy that came and took you away, leaving me here to labor all alone?”
His question gave her pause. And she couldn’t be sure if he was teasing or serious. “That was Quint, you know Quint?”
“I know Quint your husband. The one who was laid off and turned into somewhat of a couch potato in the past year before he talked you into keeping that huge haunted house. I know the Quint who wears construction clothes, and is most of the time covered with dust, and has lots of dirt under his finger nails. That guy was not the same man. I could find that guy in one of the men’s magazines over on the rack.”
“It was Quint. I told you he was different.” Meg forced a grin. So someone else noticed a change, too. Not that it meant anything. People were allowed to change, to clean the dirt out from under their fingernails. “I think he just feels good about all the plans he has and everything he’s done with the Manor. Also, having steady work and not having to depend on anyone else for it has helped him, too.”
“Well, he sure does clean up nice. Good for him, and good for you, too. I know how hard the lack of construction work was on the both of you before he started working on that old haunted place.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I think I do.” Evan reached into the sack and pulled out his burger.
“Did you know I asked him more than once to come to the shop and help us, just to get him out of the house? I even told him I would talk to Mr. Jackson about Quint doing some construction repairs on this old place to give him something to do.”
Evan stared at her for a long moment before unwrapping what would be his lunch. “I guess I didn’t know.”
“Not that it mattered. Quint refused. Giving that same excuse that he’s not into books, you know. I think his pride was just in the way, though. It bothered him to take the handout, even if it did come from me.”
Evan shrugged. “It’s just as well that he didn’t come, then. But I think it was more than just he’s not into books.”
“What do you mean?” The question slipped out before she could stop herself.
“I think it’s more like he’s jealous of your success here with something like books, something that wasn’t hard, physical labor like his job requires.”
Meg could never fault Evan for being so straightforward.
But his words stopped her in her tracks. “Quint’s never been jealous,” she defended him. “He doesn’t have a jealous bone in his body, and not of me.”
“Every man has a jealous bone somewhere in his body, whether it be jealous of other men or of kids getting all the wife’s attention or even because of career success.” Evan was straightforward, all right.
“Well, Quint doesn’t, that’s just your opinion.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
