In Hot Water, page 24
“Yes, yes.”
He pushed higher and harder.
She gasped, clutching at him.
He stopped midaction. “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” she exclaimed. “Please, don’t stop.”
With a moan of intense pleasure, he thrust again and was rewarded. He felt her expand to accommodate him, just as he’d imagined so many times. Yet he hesitated, yearning to prolong this moment of intense pleasure. But his body had a mind of its own. Soon it would betray him, especially when he sensed she was also losing control.
“Maci, Maci,” he cried when he felt his own orgasm close. As if she sensed his need, she bucked beneath him, her nails digging into his buttocks, holding him as close as possible.
It couldn’t get any better than this, he told himself when he felt her pulsing body and heard her muted cries.
All resistance and reasoning left him, especially when he realized she was going to climax with him. He felt his seed spill into her.
“Holt, yes,” she cried when he collapsed on top of her.
He lay still for the longest time, his body too spent to move, but not his mind. He had tasted the forbidden fruit. He had made love to his father’s wife. Then it hit him that Seymour was dead, that he had done nothing wrong.
Why didn’t that absolve his conscience?
There should have been regrets, but there were none. He could no more have stopped making love to her if someone had held a gun to his head and threatened to pull the trigger. He would have told them to go ahead and shoot.
So what did that mean?
He didn’t know. The only thing he did know was he would have a hell of a time walking away from her. But he knew that day would come.
The thought sent chills darting through him.
With a look or a touch, she could ignite his soul. He would readily admit that. How could that be when he wasn’t interested in home and hearth? Did he want her at all costs? Wouldn’t it keep his life simple if he just thought of her as his father’s wife and walked away?
Too tired to pursue the answer to those questions, Holt shuddered, and rolled off her. Peering at Maci, he saw that she was asleep. He sighed, drew her close, and closed his eyes.
Had she lost her mind?
Yes. But did she care? No. When she had passed by Holt’s door and saw him standing there, half-naked, the decision had been made for her on the spot. She had consciously stopped and said to hell with the consequences.
Right or wrong, she had stepped across the line and there was no turning back. Only there was, Maci corrected herself mentally, easing her head to one side and perusing his lean features that were now dark with a day’s growth of beard.
She could get up and sneak out of his room and tell him that she never wanted him to touch her again. No matter how much he might object to that, he would honor her request. While Holt might be a bastard in many ways, he would never force himself on her.
So why didn’t she act on her thoughts? Why didn’t she nudge him awake and tell him to get out of her house, that she never wanted to see him again?
Because she loved him.
There. She had admitted what she had been denying and hiding in her heart since Holt had waltzed back into her life. Maybe she had been denying it from the onset of their relationship.
She almost cried aloud, but she managed to bite down on her lower lip just in time. He must never know. She must guard that secret with as much fervor as she had guarded that first forbidden encounter with him.
When he wrapped up his other case, he would sail out of her life, literally, and she would never see him again. Surely that was the best thing for her and Jonah. She could never justify falling in love with her stepson.
But she knew she would love him for as long as she lived.
While that truth cut her to the core, she had to face it and accept it before she could become functional again. She’d had too many severe blows at one time. Knowing how quickly disaster and unhappiness could strike, she also knew she had to make the most of the time she had left with Holt. With that uppermost in her mind, she scrambled onto her knees, bent over him, and stroked him with her fingertips.
His penis burgeoned instantly, filling her hand.
Then she heard him groan at the same time his eyes shot open. “Maci?”
Her name came out sounding like a croak.
“Don’t say anything,” she whispered. “Just feel.”
“Oh, God,” he gasped.
Her lips surrounded the velvet tip as her eyes remained locked on his.
“Are you sure?” he asked thickly, his eyes dark and glazed with desire.
“I’m sure.” She heard the tremor in her voice, but it wasn’t the result of uncertainty. It was her own insatiable desire. Touching him with her tongue had made her wet and needy again.
“You’re killing me.”
She ignored him and continued to suck on the tip, then took all of his engorged flesh into her until she felt him grasp her by the hair and pull her up.
“I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he said hoarsely, lifting her up and on him.
She gasped when she sank onto his spearlike hardness and he began to move her hips against him, all the while watching her.
Only after their cries rent the air at the same time did she collapse on top of him.
A short time later his erection again disturbed her slumber.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
A shiver went through her as he reached around and surrounded a breast.
“Nor me of you,” she whispered in turn, feeling his hand nudge her legs apart.
Moments later, he entered her. She gasped when he began to thrust, not stopping until he had emptied his seed into her once more.
Groaning she turned over and met his hot, seeking mouth, losing herself in the smell, feel, and taste of him.
Thirty-Four
She was gone when he awakened.
He was disappointed, but not surprised. He hadn’t been ready to let her go, and he feared he’d be packing by the afternoon and headed to a hotel. Though his stomach twisted at the thought, he would go.
Reaching over, Holt turned off the hot water and instantly felt the cold pelt his skin.
He had better get used to cold showers, he reminded himself, at least when it came to Maci. While she had been everything he’d hoped for and more sexually, he expected her to have deep remorse and regrets this morning.
But he sure as hell didn’t. In fact, he’d like a steady diet of having her in his bed every night. Holt suddenly stood deadly still in the shower wondering if that novel thought meant he was in love. Hell, he didn’t believe in that nonsense, he told himself quickly.
Love hurt.
He had seen what his mother went through in the name of love. But he cared about Maci; he had no problem admitting that. And that caring went deeper than just screwing her every chance he got, though he wasn’t opposed to that either.
Swallowing a curse, Holt stepped out of the shower, dried off, dressed, grabbed his briefcase and headed downstairs. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, feeling his pulse shoot up. Maci had either passed through or was still around. He inhaled again, filling his nostrils with her perfume. For a minute he felt dizzy and blood rushed to his groin.
He clutched the leather handle tighter. His gut told him to let it be. Let her be. It was too soon to seek her out. She would need time to come to grips with what had happened between them. Even so, if there was a chance he could see her, he wasn’t going to pass it up, regardless of the consequences.
Dropping his briefcase, he made his way into the kitchen. It was empty. No sign of the housekeeper. Holt helped himself to a cup of coffee, then took a chance on the terrace. His hunch paid off. She was sitting at the table, sipping on a cup of coffee, looking lovely in a pair of black slacks and a cream-colored sleeveless sweater that molded the same breasts he’d suckled and kneaded until they were wet from his mouth.
He felt a pinch behind his zipper and winced.
That was when she turned around. He watched as a flush stole up her cheeks, adding to her beauty. She didn’t turn away, though he saw her swallow, which told him she was not as calm as she appeared.
Hell, neither was he. His palms and upper body felt clammy. At any time, he could break out into a full-blown sweat. He couldn’t chalk that feeling up to the high humidity. Not this time.
“Good morning,” he said in a strained voice.
Maci’s flush deepened, but again she rose to the occasion. He’d give anything to know what was going through her mind about now.
“You’re up early,” she said, her voice sounding equally as strained.
“So are you.”
“I… I couldn’t sleep.”
Silence.
“Neither could I.”
Maci expelled a breath, but held his gaze. “Holt—”
“If you expect me to apologize—”
“I don’t,” she cut in, averting her gaze.
He studied her profile and noticed her pulse beating in her neck.
Holt struggled to get his next breath. It was all he could do to hang on to his control. He wanted to close the distance between them, grab her and rain fiery kisses over her face and mouth.
Hell, if he had his way, he’d bend her over the wrought iron table and take her right there. He must have made a guttural sound because she whipped her gaze back around.
“I should go,” she said with obvious difficulty.
“Me, too.”
Neither moved.
“If you want me out of here, I won’t fight you on that.” There, he’d said it. He’d placed his head in the noose, fully expecting to get it chopped off, and deservedly so. After all, he’d homed in on her vulnerability. He’d known how fragile she was, what she’d been through. He should have left her alone, dammit. But he couldn’t then and didn’t want to now.
“That’s up to you,” she said.
Holt heard the tremor in her voice, and another shaft of remorse hit him. The last thing he wanted was to bring her more pain.
“Do you mean that?” he asked in a hoarse tone.
Maci nodded, biting down on her lower lip.
He wished she wouldn’t do that. It should be him biting on that lip, suckling it until he made her wet. Suddenly, her eyes darkened as if she could read his mind.
He cleared his throat just so he could speak. “So are we calling a truce?”
“Of sorts, I guess.”
This time he nodded while another silence fell between them.
“That doesn’t mean—” Maci’s voice faltered.
“That I’m welcome in your bed.”
Her breath caught and her eyes widened.
“Don’t worry. If I make love to you again, it will be like last night—because we both want it.”
“That’s fair enough,” she whispered.
He stared at her for a long moment, aching to reach out and touch her, to ease the pain he saw mirrored in those lovely stark eyes. But he didn’t move, realizing the ball was no longer in his court. It was in hers. “If you need me, I’m always reachable by cell.”
When she didn’t respond, he went on in a rough voice, “It’s not my intention to hurt you, Maci. For what it’s worth, I want you to know that.”
Maci smiled at her newest client, then said, “I’m so looking forward to working with you, Mrs. Galloway.”
“Oh, honey, drop that Mrs. stuff. Call me Lois, for heaven’s sake.”
Maci’s smile widened. “Lois it is.”
“I may be old, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to act or look it.”
“Well, you’ve certainly met your goal.”
“Oh,” she said again in the same dismissive manner, “you’re too kind.”
Lois, who Maci suspected was in her mid-sixties, was a piece of work. Maci had figured that out the minute she’d arrived at the Galloway’s new, upscale home in the suburbs. She was a people person who never met a stranger.
She was short and more than slightly overweight which accounted for her smooth baby textured skin. She had not one wrinkle on her dimpled cheeks, Maci noticed with a jolt of envy. If it hadn’t been for Lois’s eyes that looked like they were on stalks, she would’ve been a real beauty. But those bugged eyes were a distraction as well as a detraction.
Even so, Maci knew she and Lois would work well together and she was excited about sinking her teeth into a new project that would give her a new lease on life.
And help take her mind off Holt.
She quickly turned her head for fear Lois would pick up on the color Maci felt surge into her face. So far, she hadn’t let herself replay the events of last night. She simply hadn’t been emotionally equipped to do so, especially after admitting to herself that she was in love with him.
That unvarnished fact still had her shell-shocked.
“I hope you’re hungry,” her client was saying.
They were in the kitchen and Maci looked on as Lois filled a tray with tea and scones.
“These are homemade, mind you,” Lois said, lifting the tray and motioning for Maci to go ahead of her back to the living room.
“Oh, my,” Maci said. “I’m impressed.”
“You should be,” Lois countered airily. “I’m glad I made them now, considering you’re poor as a snake and could eat five and never know it.”
Maci laughed out loud. “Poor as a snake. That’s a new one on me.”
“It’s the truth, if you don’t mind me being so frank.”
“Frank is good.”
“Have you always been so thin?”
“Pretty much, though I’ve lost some weight lately.”
Lois made a face. “Of course. I hope you don’t think I’m being insensitive. I should’ve told you up front how sorry I am about your loss.”
“Thank you,” Maci replied lightly. “It’s been rough.”
“I’m sure.” Lois’s face brightened. “But you have your son, and I know that helps soak up some of the pain.”
“That he does. He’s a bundle of toddler delight.”
Maci wasn’t surprised about Lois’s condolences. Even though she hadn’t said a word about having lost her husband, everyone knew about it. Even if the Ramsey name hadn’t been up there with royalty in this town, Seymour’s downfall and subsequent death had been headlines in the paper.
Pulling herself out of her reverie, Maci sat down and immediately eyed the goodies with relish. Perhaps that was because she was hungry following her marathon night of lovemaking. Feeling her face suffuse with color again, she made a big deal of serving herself, then munching on the scone.
“This is delicious,” Maci said when her mouth was no longer full.
“It is, if I say so myself.”
“Tom must adore you for more reasons than one.”
Lois seemed girlishly pleased by that comment. “He doesn’t even mind that I’m fat.”
“You’re not fat,” Maci said, appalled.
“Yes, I am, but that’s okay. I’m comfortable with who I am and how I am.”
“Bully for you.”
“You seem like that sort of person to me,” Lois commented, after taking a sip of her tea. “Comfortable with yourself, I mean.”
“Most of the time I am,” Maci admitted with caution. “Lately, though I’ve had some doubts.”
“Under the circumstances, that’s to be expected. If I lost Tom—” She broke off with an apology, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that like it sounded. If I lost my husband, I’d do just what you’re doing—get through it and go on with my life.”
A moment of silence followed while they both enjoyed the food and drink. Once Maci pushed her plate away, she spoke, “I want you to know how excited I am at the prospect of refurbishing your home. It’s lovely already.”
Lois flapped a hand loaded with diamond rings. “But it’s not me. I can’t wait to get rid of that butt-ugly wall-paper in the dining room.”
Maci chuckled. “I’m with you.”
“So shall we get started? I’m devoting the entire day to you.”
“It’s going to take that and more.”
Several hours later, she had just gotten in her car when her cell phone rang. Recognizing the number, her heart lurched. Jonah was at a private church day care because Liz’s mother was in the hospital and she was with her.
“Is Jonah all right?” she asked without preamble.
“He’s fine, Mrs. Ramsey.” The worker paused. “Jonah is the only one left and I was just wondering when you were going to pick him up.”
“Shortly,” Maci said in a puzzled tone.
“Uh, there’s been an emergency in my family, and I really need to leave.”
Frustration colored Maci’s tone. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Thanks.”
It was after she’d placed her cell back on the seat that Maci realized the traffic had stalled. She was too far behind the cars to see what the problem was, but she knew she wasn’t going anywhere for a spell.
“Damn,” she muttered, reaching for her cell to call the church and tell the worker she was late. Then her hand paused at the same time her heartbeat accelerated.
She’d probably regret this, but she was going to do it anyway. She punched in another number and waited.
Holt faced Vince across his desk. “Got anything for me?”
“About you or Sanders?”
“Both, but let’s start with Sanders,” Holt said, having just arrived at the office the same time as Vince.
Vince rubbed his jaw. “I’ve got something, all right, but again, I’m not sure it’s anything we can use.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I checked into Bradford Investments where Sanders’s wife worked.”
“And?” Holt prodded when Vince paused.
“Seems the company’s in financial difficulties, though no one was willing to enlighten me as to why.”
“Figures.”
“Anyhow, I talked with several of Rachel Sanders’s cohorts, and they told me she’d been in a real tizzy for several months, that something had been bothering her. But she wouldn’t confide in them.”
