Maggie Shayne - An Enchanted Season

And when she said, “Will, please, God, you feel so good,” he gave up trying to stop himself. He just pounded into her, over and over, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. She made frantic little sounds of pleasure, her cries getting louder each time he sank inside her, and Will knew she was almost ready, felt her legs squeeze around his thighs and her inner walls tense, constricting on his cock. Then she came, back arching up, eyes wide in shock, cry petering off into a strangled gasp, her hips stilling, even as he felt the tremors deep inside her. It was beautiful, surreal, arousing as hell, and he stroked through her orgasm and straight into his.

Charlotte watched Will above her, and couldn’t imagine that she could ever love him more than she did. She had wanted this, hoped for this, hell, pined for him and a moment like this, but never could she have imagined that when it actually happened, she would feel this whole, this loved, this completely and deeply happy.

Almost as good as the sex itself was the way he collapsed on the carpet and pulled her tight in next to him, her legs entangled with his. Almost. The sex had been really hot. But it was sweet and comfortable, serene, lying naked with him, the hard planes of his chest warm beneath her hand, his body still partially inside hers.

“I completely forgot about a condom,” he murmured, his hand stroking her back slowly. “I’m sorry, that was totally irresponsible.”

“It’s okay, I forgot, too.” And truthfully, Charlotte wasn’t worried about it. She knew Will and where he’d been and it wasn’t anything to be concerned about. As for getting pregnant, she was twenty-nine years old, a successful business owner, and involved with her best friend, the man she loved. A child wouldn’t be a crisis. In fact, she got a little warm and fuzzy inside at the thought of starting a family with him someday. “Would it be awful to say I’m glad we didn’t have latex between us for our first time?”

“It’s not awful, considering I was thinking the same thing, but it sure as hell isn’t politically correct.” He sighed, and kissed the top of her head. “Damn, sweetheart, that was a good time.”

She laughed, feeling too satisfied to move. Ever. Despite a shiver that went through her from being naked in December on the floor.

But Will noticed and said, “You cold? Let me grab a blanket.” He slid out from under her and walked toward his bedroom.

Charlotte rolled onto her side, resting her head on her arm so she could have a clear view of his tight butt and muscular thighs, his strong back, and chiseled forearms. Will was a fine man in more ways than one, starting with his intelligence and compassion, and ending with that naked ass in front of her. It made her want to lick her lips and start all over again.

But he disappeared into his room, and when he returned a minute later, he was wearing jeans and holding a blanket in his hand. Her disappointment at having him covered was profound. He looked amazing in jeans, she’d give him that, but she’d been gawking at him clothed for eight years. She’d wanted to linger a bit on his nudity, really get a good eyeful before he covered it all back up. She would have to content herself with the knowledge that she’d be seeing a whole lot of his bare body from there on out.

“I know it’s freezing outside,” he said as he dropped onto the floor and spread the blanket over her and brushed her hair back off her shoulder. “But would you want to go for a ride? There’s something I’d like to show you.”

She had absolutely no interest whatsoever in getting dressed and going outside in the snow and freezing wind, but if he had something to show her, she wanted to see it. “Sure.” Trailing her fingers over his bare chest, she smiled at him. “Then when we get back, we can finish putting your tree up. And other things.”

“What other things?” He grinned.

“I’ll leave it to your imagination.”

“I have a very good imagination. I’ve spent a good long time picturing all the things I can do to you.” His eyes had darkened.

Sounded perfect to her. “Then let’s go. Sooner we go, sooner we get back.”

WILL LIKED THE GRAY HOUSE. IT WAS SMALL, AMANDAhadn’t exaggerated about that, but it was double the size of his apartment, and it was structurally sound. It had two bedrooms, and a funny little extra room that must have been an outside sleeper porch originally, one and a half baths, and a kitchen, dining room, and living room. Lots of thick woodwork, a brick fireplace, and an old milk chute cut out in the kitchen wall.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Will stopped in the living room and looked at Charlotte. Her opinion meant everything in the world to him, because he had every intention of seeing her living in the house with him.

She had walked through the whole house with him, quiet, but eyes sharply inspecting everything. She’d seemed surprised he was considering buying a house, and maybe a little offended he hadn’t told her. It hadn’t been a secret, he just hadn’t been sure. He’d been waiting for something before he made that big investment. Now he knew just what that was. He’d been waiting for Charlotte. To make the decision to buy a house together.

He’d almost given up on that dream. But now here it was, right in front of him, everything he had ever wanted.

“It’s cute, charming. I like it, Will.” She ran her hand over the fireplace mantel, still the original oak. “It has character. Good bones.”

“Good. I’m glad you think so, because I like it, too.” Will searched for the right words to convey to Charlotte what she meant to him, how she was his family, his life, his heart. “And I only want to buy this house if you can picture yourself living in it with me.”

Her head whipped around and her eyes met his, wide with shock. “Excuse me?”

Will didn’t even hesitate. They’d wasted enough time, he didn’t intend to waste any more. “Charlotte, I know this is moving fast, but we know each other better than a lot of people who’ve been dating for years. I am completely and totally in love with you…You are my very best friend, you are amazing, and I want you to live with me. In this house, or a different one, if you don’t like it. But I want you with me, now, forever.”

He closed the two feet between them and took her hand. “Will you marry me?”

Even he hadn’t known he was going to say that last bit. But it just came out, right and strong.

Charlotte thought Will’s proposal was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard in her entire life. It should have felt surreal, strange, that after all those years of just being friends, they would leap straight to a commitment, but it didn’t. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Will Thornton was the man for her. And now he was going to be her husband.

Tears popped into her eyes and she touched his cheeks, studying his strong, handsome face. “Yes,” she said, nodding her head rapidly. “God, yes, I will marry you.”

Then she was kissing him, or maybe he was kissing her, she wasn’t sure which, and it didn’t really matter because they were together, as one, and it was a kiss of pent-up love, past frustrations, present passion, and future happiness.

“I love you,” he whispered, pulling back a hairbreadth.

“I love you, too.” And all the amazing things his tongue was suddenly doing to her neck.

“This house still has some furniture in it since it was a rental,” he said as his tongue splayed across the swell of her breast, her neckline stretched down again. “Couch or bed?”

“Will! This is Mrs. Stritmeyer’s house…we shouldn’t.”

“So? We’re buying it, aren’t we? It’s going to be our house soon.”