Page 91 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
His mouth tipped into a smile as he stroked the backs of her legs. “It wasn’t an invitation, Angie. It was an order.”
Oh. God.
“Lay back now and let me love you again,” he said, pressing a kiss to where she needed him.
This man… Her heart expanded in her chest as their eyes met. “In a minute.” She traced his jaw and leaned in to kiss him slowly. Their lips met again and again until she heard him sigh. “I love you,” she whispered, wanting to say it again.
He caressed her cheek, holding her gaze as he kissed her deeply and gently. “I love you too. Now do what I tell you.”
The order, said with such love, made her smile. She leaned back, opening herself to him in a way she never had with anyone. He seemed to understand as he traced the sides of her legs, the intention as powerful as one of her brushstrokes. Then he placed her legs over his shoulders and kissed her and caressed her until she was arching against his mouth and crying out.
“Yes,” he said, “let me hear you.”
She didn’t hold back, feeling the freedom of her pleasure and of being with him. When she came back to herself, he was lying on his side next to her on the bed, gloriously aroused. The smile on his face was as beautiful as his desire for her.
“Come here,” she said, opening her arms to him.
He rose and settled between her legs after putting on a condom, one hand playing with her breast. She’d known the feel of him inside her would be powerful, but they both still moaned as he slid inside. He pressed his forehead against hers.
“Give me a moment.” His muscles locked. “I want to feel all of you.”
She laid her hands over his hips. Listened to the rapid beat of their hearts. Their breathing mingled. Her body seemed to shift into him, and then she felt a click, one she’d never felt before with a man.
Oneness.
He raised his face, and they gazed at each other. The light coming from his ultramarine eyes was as warm and beautiful as sunshine, and it traveled all the way to her heart, expanding it even more. She flowed with love and him as he began to move inside her, slowly at first. She knew his rhythm and matched him. She knew his pace and followed. They flowed into each other. She pressed her face into his shoulder, clutching him, awash in love sounds and the pleasure of their bodies coming together.
They found a faster pace, moaning brokenly now. Her body turned to molten fire, rising to a dizzying height, and then she was crying out and coming, pulsing around him. He called her name and followed her, clutching her to him.
She couldn’t open her eyes, and she couldn’t get enough oxygen. But she’d never been more pliant. She’d certainly never felt loved like this.
“Oh, Carrick,” she whispered, tunneling her face into his neck.
“I know,” he whispered back in awe.
She melted even more, never wanting to let him go. He seemed to be of the same mind since he didn’t move from her. Still, he didn’t lower all of his weight onto her, which she appreciated since she was trying to get her breath back.
“I probably need to get off you,” he said after a time, leveling back to meet her eyes. “The only problem is I don’t want to.”
“Then stay,” she said, her voice shot with emotion. God! She wanted him to stay forever. She closed her eyes. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t do this.Stay in the moment, Angie. Just love him.
His fingers touched her cheek. “Look at me.”
She breathed out her frustration and opened her eyes. His gaze was soft but serious. “Haven’t we done well up to now?”
She nodded, her throat thick.
“Then let’s keep doing that. Being us. Being direct. Because when you asked me to stay, I heard it too. The promise of things between us.”
Her sigh was easier this time. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”
He studied her. “My question is: why did us making love make you want to?”
The question made her heart knock against her ribs in fear. She tried to chuckle. “Because I’m funny sometimes. Now get off me. I need to breathe.”
He shook his head firmly. “Not yet. Answer me. I think this is important. Whatever caused you to stop painting before had its roots here.”
Her mouth grew dry as her heart trembled. She knew why, but she’d never told anyone. Only a scary blank piece of white paper when she was sitting in a hard yellow chair in a classroom, being trained in art therapy. “It’s hard to say, but fine. I…start to think about this ending. It’s like I get a taste of love, and then it’s gone. None of the men I’ve cared about, starting with my father, have loved the real me, so I always try to be what a man wants. Technically it’s called a fear of abandonment. And I hate it.”
