“You didn't have to—” She stopped herself from
saying something, and Cormac couldn't help but imagine her completed thought.
“Didn't have to what, Ree?” he asked in a low whisper. Stepping closer, he took her arm, and he might as well have stepped before an open flame, so much did her proximity scorch him. “Sleep apart from you?” She blushed, giving him a breathless look that made him wild and wishing he had crawled into bed with her.
Marjorie pulled away and strode on, entering the inn with an angry sweep of her skirts. “You didn't have to speak for me at the docks. I am perfectly capable—”
“Of getting yourself into trouble. ” He lowered his voice so as not to be overheard, nodding a perfunctory greeting to the innkeeper as they passed.
“Oh Hughie, I know a fine husband like you would never allow that to happen. ” She stormed up the stairs to their door, fumbling with the lock.
Cormac snatched the key from her to open it.
“And Hughie, how wonderful that your little trout has such a great man like you to open doors for her. ” She stomped into their bedroom. “To
make her decisions, and to speak for her. ”
“Och, Ree, stop this. ” He closed the door. The woman had lost her head. Force decisions upon her? The concept was laughable. Cormac would be first in line to swear there wasn't a man alive capable of taking control of Marjorie. “I only worried—”
“You worried I'd mess it up, didn't you?” She struggled to unlace her shoes and finally just kicked them off.
Standing, she panted before him, lips parted and cheeks flushed. “You worried I couldn't handle a simple act. ” He worried she'd get hurt. He worried she'd never find her Davie. He worried the lad was already dead. He worried her heart might break as irrevocably as his had so many years before.
He worried that the sad look in her eyes would never go away.
“That's not it at all. ”
“You worried I'd ruin everything like I always do. ”
“Stop it, Marjorie. ” She was intentionally misunderstanding. She'd whipped herself into a lather, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. He stepped closer.
“Isn't that it, Hughie?” She tore the comb from her hair, and slammed it down on the table. Long curls cascaded over her shoulders. “You didn't think I'd be able to carry on a simple conversation without—”
“Stop. ” He took another step.
She sneered. “Oh Hughie, am I bothering—”
Another step. “Stop it with this Hughie business. ”
“Make me!”
He did — with a kiss.
Chapter 17
He couldn't fight it. Feeling had seared back to life in his numb heart, and he'd awoken ravenous. Ree was nothing but feeling and passion, and it set him on fire.
He kissed her, pouring the whole of his godforsaken soul into it.
His mouth took hers fiercely, and she opened to him, twining her tongue with his, all eager innocence. Her hair had gotten trapped under his hand, and he laced his fingers through the long, silky waves. The scent of her filled his senses, and his body responded, quickening, straining against her. The press of her belly against his hardness taunted him, and he grabbed her bottom with his other hand, holding her tighter, closer.
She moaned in response, melting into him as if there were nobody and nothing else in the world, and the glory of it broke the last of his resolve. His hand roved to her breast, and she was soft and full in his palm, just as he'd always imagined she'd be.
What he'd never imagined was just how fiery, how desperate, her response would be. She writhed for him, swiveling her hips, rubbing into him, her nipple stiff and eager in his hand.
He stroked and pinched her, and her breath caught faster. Her heart hammered furiously against his chest. And the closeness felt right. She felt right.
It was right.