Meg Lacey - A Noble Pursuit

“There must be someone,” he persisted, sticking to the subject like a bulldog with lockjaw. “You’re too beautiful not to be involved with someone.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes.” His breath caught in his throat as she looked at him as though he was the only man in the world. He’d never experienced that before, never felt the keen desire to protect and ravish at the same time. “Very beautiful.”

She smiled and pulled his arm closer. “This doesn’t remind me of any other man. At the moment, all I can remember is you.”

Shay had to touch her. He couldn’t help himself. It was as if a goddess had come to life and offered him his heart’s desire—innocence mixed with a bit of vixen and a touch of spice. He tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingertip lingering there before descending slowly to her earlobe.

“Ears are funny things, you know,” he mused. “On some people they look as if they’ve been stuck on with no thought for what the face looks like, but on you, everything matches….”

Her breath rushed out of her mouth as she whispered, “You’ve made quite a study of ears.”

His fingertip moved down to trace her jawline. “I make a study of everything about every person I meet.”

“That sounds like work.”

He ignored the little jolt to his conscience. “I like it. I like looking at a person and wondering what they’re thinking. Wondering if they know what I’m thinking.”

“It’s hard to tell what people want to keep hidden.”

“Sooner or later most people slip up.”

“Even if they’re very good liars?”

“Good liars are harder to read, but if you’re patient…” His fingertip traced her full bottom lip. “I can be incredibly patient.”

“And if I don’t want patience?”

“Ah, sweetheart…” He outlined her top lip with his finger. “Patience is a virtue.”

“And if I don’t want virtue?”

“Then you’ve come to the right place. Virtue’s overrated. I’ll take sin every time.”

She sucked his fingertip into her mouth, then released it to smile up at him. “Especially during Mardi Gras, when sin is a way of life.”

Shay’s heart needed restarting after she released his finger. He’d felt the tug of her mouth through his entire body. His mind drifted, wondering what her lips and tongue would feel like on more sensitive parts of his anatomy. He forced himself to reply, “Then it’s our duty to uphold tradition, wouldn’t you say?”

“Most definitely.”

“Besides, who knows what you might remember once you relax.”

“I don’t think this is the way to relaxation.”

No lie there, Shay agreed. If he got any more wound up, he’d shoot into outer space. Her lips beckoned him, but no more than the soft little moan of anticipation she made. What red-blooded male could resist that sound? He certainly couldn’t. He bent his head and kissed her, softly at first, then settling into it. His lips stroked over hers, again and again as he coaxed her to open to him. Not that she needed much urging. Her parted lips beckoned him inside, and he was never a man to resist something he really wanted. And he really wanted her.

He deepened the kiss, knowing he couldn’t have left her if he’d tried. He should, he knew, but his blood was starting to run hot. He could no more stop his emotions than he could a runaway train. She was on track with him, keeping pace as their tongues lunged and dueled, her body pressing against his, warming him in a way he’d not known before. Oh, he had known passion, a great deal of it, but he hadn’t known passion mixed with such sweetness and soul-deep desire.

The thought went briefly through his mind that, regardless of what happened, this would be a night he’d remember for the rest of his life. It wasn’t every day a man fell in love with a stranger.

“MAKE LOVE TO ME.” Her words whispered into his mouth.

For an instant he couldn’t move. He heard her spoken request with every part of his body. Her plea slipped into his mind and settled down to stay. Shay’s reawakened sense of duty and honor insisted he say no, this would be a mistake, but it was hard to resist something this strong. A feeling rose from his gut to tell him that this moment was what his life was about. This was the missing key to who he was. All philosophical and romantic bullcrap, of course, but it felt so right that it soon overcame his inner warnings. In the grip of intense masculine need, but with a lack of romantic finesse, he muttered, “You got it.”

Clasping her tightly, he wrenched his lips from hers, rolled to his side and sat up, taking her with him. In one fluid movement he shifted her in his arms and rose to his feet, holding her against his chest. Her gaze, frosted with passion, locked with his. She smiled, a slow sensuous lift of her lips that curled his toes.

“I want to make a memory, Shay.” She smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead with her fingertip. “A memory that will last…” a lifetime.

“Sweetheart, the way you’re talking is—”

She pulled his head down to hers and slanted her mouth across his. “This is the only thing that’s real. This. Here and now.”

Here and now. Shay lifted his mouth a scant inch from hers. “Then we shouldn’t waste it.” With renewed purpose he strode across the room to the bedroom. He shouldered open the door and stepped over the threshold. Taking her to the bed, he gently placed her upon the quilted spread, then followed her down. Kneeling beside her, he gave the sash of the robe a brief tug. The terry cloth slipped free of its loose tie and fell away. Hands trembling he spread the robe, then sat back on his heels and filled his eyes with her.

Her skin was like marble, fine and almost translucent, but with a glow that invited a man to explore the vitality beneath. She lay, her arms raised slightly over her head, and let him look his fill. She seemed slightly apprehensive, but when a small whistle escaped from his lips she blushed, then chuckled. It was the chuckle that got him. That small gurgle of sound lifted his heart.

He couldn’t remember ever wanting anything this much. He wanted to take, but he wanted to give, too. His hands explored her, starting with the shape of her face and working their way down, over her long elegant neck to her small shoulders, to her perfectly shaped breasts with their high tight buds. “You are so perfect.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Hey, I know what I’m talking about. I love beautiful things, so when I say you’re perfect, you’re perfect.” He continued his exploration, running his hands down her slender waist, down over her hips.

“Ah—” she caught her breath as his hands traversed her hipbones “—a connoisseur. I’m impressed.”

“You should be. Connoisseurs are very picky.”

“Meaning this isn’t a common occurrence with you?”

His fingers brushed her cleft, delving deeper to find the treasure. “There’s nothing common about this experience, sweetheart.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You’re gonna find out.” He smiled and dipped his head to her breast. “Don’t worry. It’s like riding a bike. It all comes back to you.”

Her only response was a moan. Then she gasped and arched as his fingers sought her. “Please,” she whispered.

“I will,” he whispered back as he stretched out beside her, ready to give her all the pleasure he was capable of giving. His index finger and thumb spread her velvet opening for his caress.

She shifted restlessly as he made lazy circles on her sensitive skin, getting nearer and nearer his goal. “I ache.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. I’ll make it all better.”

His mouth touched her breasts and lingered, laving first one, then the other, pulling and tugging her nipples to an erection that nearly matched his own. Her hands fisted in his hair and pulled his busy mouth up to hers. He needed no urging to take everything her lips had to offer. Mouths open, they did battle, tongues dueling with fierce abandon—advance and retreat, then advance again. His fingers followed the same pace until finally, hips gyrating, she thrust upward.