Christian nodded reassuringly.
“…and…and uh…sucking on them, too. I liked that.”
He grunted with profound agreement.
“I think of your weight on top of me, having you inside of me…”
“Uh huh,” Christian encouraged when she trailed off, hanging on her every syllable.
“Filling me up,” Megan finished.
“Okay,” Christian scraped out after a tension-filled pause.
“And you’re sort of, whispering to me, talking to me while you’re…moving inside of me.” She misunderstood his glazed expression and thought he hadn’t understood. “Like you do sometimes when you kiss me, when you tell me how I feel to you, when you say what you’d like to be doing to me.”
“You like it when I talk to you that way?”
“I love it,” she blurted out.
“Christ, Megan—”
“What the hell kept you two so long?” Seth interrupted drolly.
Christian gave a low growl of profound frustration when Megan started and stood up abruptly. He leaned over and rested his forehead in his palm, vaguely aware of the three others greeting one another. He pulled his keys from the front pocket of his jeans and asked Megan to show everyone to the car.
“Pick me up at the valet in a few minutes,” he directed her when Megan took the keys.
“Why aren’t you coming?” Megan asked, confused.
Seth laughed. “Come on, Megan. He’ll be good as new in a minute or two.”
“Serves you right, too, for interrupting us earlier,” Seth said in a low voice when Sarah and Megan began to walk away through the lobby. When Christian scowled at him, Seth added with malicious amusement, “Just think really cold thoughts, Chris.”
Chapter 8
Megan was charmed by Christian’s family. The realization made her feel a little guilty, because in many ways the Lashers were polar opposites of her own family. They were boisterous, fun-loving and completely unrestrained in both stating their opinions and demonstrating their affections.
Christian had received his height, strength and good looks from his father, James. She sensed that he’d inherited the same man’s tendency for thoughtful observance, introspection, and flashes of wry humor. His mother, Caroline, had gifted him with her boundless energy, her love of the arts, and of course, her brilliant blue eyes.
Megan learned from James Lasher, during a tour of the house, that he’d run his own construction firm for thirty plus years, specializing in the restoration of historic buildings. Although he’d labored on and loved some of the most beautiful old homes in Chicago, Oak Park, and several north shore suburbs, he’d never had the financial means to buy one. When Christian became successful with his band years back, he’d insisted his parents share in his wealth. At first they’d refused, but Christian had badgered them until they’d folded, James told her with a wry grin. Only because it had always been his dream, and only because Christian and he had worked out a viable loan agreement, had James finally accepted enough money from Christian to buy his and Caroline’s home in Evanston.
It was a meticulously restored turn of the century, classical brick structure that was officially listed on the National Register of Historic Preservation of Homes. The grounds were huge and landscaped lovingly with Caroline and James’ own hands, with assistance from Mary, Christian’s younger sister. The interiors were gracious and warm, filled with peaceful colors and the artwork that Caroline had managed to save for over the years, in addition to some valuable pieces gifted to her by Christian.
She was a little humbled at the warmth and graciousness the Lashers extended toward her as they welcomed her into their home. Caroline served a delicious barbecue dinner with all the trimmings, including homemade ice cream for dessert, out on the stone terrace that faced the backyard. Afterwards, Seth, Christian, Katie’s husband Steve and Eric, Katie’s eight-year-old, started playing a rowdy, and at times hotly contested game of touch football in the backyard. Sarah and Mary, Christian’s outspoken, beautiful younger sister, chatted together amiably, occasionally breaking into laughter as they watched the antics of the football game, while Megan talked to Katie in hushed tones, because her two-year-old son, Nicholas, had fallen asleep in his mother’s lap.
“Do you do any type of art, other than sculpture?” Christian’s older sister asked her as dusk settled around them and the outdoor lights switched on.
“I draw and paint,” Megan replied.
“I’m so envious. I always wanted to draw. Now that I have the boys, I’ve often thought how nice it would be to be able to have a sketching of them at different ages.”
“Would you like me to sketch Nicholas right now?” Megan asked.
Katie made a face. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just running off at the mouth.”
Megan laughed quietly. “I’d like to, if you would let me. He’s a beautiful little boy, and we’ll never get a better time than right now.” She nodded to the tow-headed child who was deeply asleep.
Christian’s mother bustled into the house at Katie’s request and provided Megan with supplies. Megan continued to converse with Katie softly even as her hand moved over the page. A call from the football game caused loud controversy, and she glanced up from her sketch in amusement.