Page 39 of The Cowboy Takes a Nanny
Without thinking her hand reached for the bottle. “Come out here where there’s more room and I’ll help you.”
“Ella, you don’t need …” His protestations were feeble, and he allowed himself to be led, pausing just once to turn to look her right in the eyes. “This is crazy, you know that, right?”
“Sshhh … I’m just going to help ease your pain and then I’ll go.”
“And right there is the problem …”
She ignored him and just kept him moving on. Though, of course, out here, proved to be a slight problem because the only place for him to sit was on his bed, and once more, pulling on all her inner reserves, and reminding herself that he was in pain and this was an errand of mercy, she guided him there and gently pushed him down, climbing up behind him and began applying the lotion.
All of which, in her head, she’d imagined would be much more clinical. However, once her hand touched him, glided across this smooth, firm flesh: clinical flew out the window, and instinct driven by her own need, took over.
Lost in the moment, mesmerized by the repetitive motion, she realized he was all the things she knew he would be. All the things she’d dreamed in her fantasies. Warm, supple, strong … She heard his indrawn breath, felt his muscles tighten under her touch. Power surged through her.
Saying nothing, she widened the arc of her work area, felt him flinch when she hit more sensitive areas, wickedly coming back to them. Stroking, over and over …
“Ella …” The growl took a second to penetrate, so lost was she in the sensations of running her hands across his naked body, so lost in the desire to turn him and stroke all of him, every inch.
But then there he was facing her, his hands gently circling her wrists, drawing her to him, cupping her face as he brought his lips down on hers: hard and masterful. Possessing her; owning her.
This wasn’t like their last kiss, this one spoke to all the frustration, all the fear; the hope; the joy and the denial. It was passion filled; his lips gliding across hers, his tongue probing, demanding entrance. It spoke to desperation, and raw need, and she met him there, and poured out all of her own sadness, frustration and regret, purging them from herself for just this one mad moment in time that she would take it and hold near the wonders of Leo Halligan.
He shuffled, stretched his legs around her, pulled her into the V, and she answered by wrapping her legs around him, feeling his hardness against her, and instinctively she pressed herself closer; needing to feel all of him.
His hands roamed over her skin, his touch feather-like, sending sensations jolting through her, pebbling her skin, building heat. He teased and swallowed her resultant groan of need. She pressed herself against his bare chest, losing herself in the sensation of his beautiful solidness against her softness.
Her action gave the signal Leo must have been waiting for. With hands under her arms, he lifted them both, rolling them until she was under him. “Your shoulder?” she managed to rasp.
“What shoulder?”
Then his mouth captured hers once more, softer, coaxing, until he obviously needed more. She whimpered when his lips released hers and he gazed into her eyes.
Her heart raced, this man threw shade all over every experience she’d ever had, previous encounters had barely scratched the surface. A sense of rightness came over her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe never.
Definitely never …
*
If Ella thought finally satisfying the longing—that Leo-sized longing—would give her some peace, she was quickly dissuaded of the notion. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Their night—and yes, it had been the whole night—had been amazing, more than amazing; and seemingly all day long she found addition superlatives to describe their experience.
She’d glided into the next day, despite little sleep, and found it impossible to wipe the smile off her face, even when the entire flour container spilled all over the floor while she was baking with the children on the counter helping.
Leo was no better. He’d greeted her with his lazy smile that had been playing havoc with her senses since the first day they’d met, before leaning in for a long slow kiss.
“Good morning.” He’d grinned again. “Now if I was some crass, self-satisfied kind of guy, I’d add something cheesy like, good night, too. Or great night.” Eyes soft, his voice low, in almost a whisper, he’d added, “But not only am I not crass, neither of those words come close to describing what we experienced.” Lifting her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss against her skin. “Thank you.”
Words clogged her throat, and she’d closed her eyes, simply let the joy of the moment surge through her; basking in the afterglow. And what an afterglow. It felt like so much more, almost like. … No, it couldn’t be and she would not allow herself to entertain such fantasies. It was just afterglow. She could not be in love with Leo Halligan. Couldn’t and wouldn’t allow it, because that would just make everything more difficult.
Especially as she still hadn’t confided her biggest secret.
She’d scooped the children up and raced upstairs, claiming to have a busy day ahead. Anything but stand there and have him see something that she couldn’t give, misinterpret their encounter. Because she couldn’t hide her soppy expression, and if he saw it, it might surmise she felt more for him than she dared to admit. And that would be wrong, she had to remember that. Regardless, she wasn’t up to arguing the point.
If he argued. Maybe he just wouldn’t care.
Of course, she’d barely been able to think about anything else all day but them together; she and Leo and their one night. Even now, hours later, the truth continued to nag at her. It couldn’t continue. It was madness. They were playing with matches that would eventually burn them both.
Tonight, she’d tell him. Tell him they couldn’t go on this way, that once was all they could have; tell him everything. Surely that would be the ultimate lust-quencher. And once the children were asleep for the night, they would have that exact conversation.
Maybe he had the same intention, who knew? But ridiculously, there was no conversation. They’d barely sat down, squashed together on that ridiculously tiny sofa, before they were again in each other’s arms. Kissing and then sliding onto the floor, sinking into plush carpet, both somehow naked or almost, unable to keep their hands off each other. And it was just as thrilling, wonderful, and headline grabbing as the previous night.
