AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Prologue
Their laughter echoed into the night as Maggie fumbled with frozen fingers to find the house key, the heat of Nash’s body seeping into her side. Long savannas of protected land stretched into the mountains at her back, as the damp March wind cut through her clothing. While their little house was nothing special, the magnificent view was something to behold, especially under a dusting of new fallen snow. But it was the love they shared within, that truly made their simple house a home.
“I want you,” Nash murmured, nibbling at her jaw and making her giggle as anticipation nipped at her insides.
After a night out with Maggie’s sister, enduring yet another uncomfortable meet and greet with Perrin’s newest love interest, it was no surprise Maggie and Nash were trashed. They had done everything necessary to survive the awkward get-together, and in the process, they kicked a fifth of Jameson.
It was St. Patrick’s Day, so they were technically honoring a family tradition—being O’Malleys and all. And, as the saying went, whiskey made her frisky, so her horny husband didn’t have much patience left—knowing he had a sure thing ahead of him.
Maggie fumbled for her house keys, distracted by the weight of Nash’s hungry touch as it disappeared beneath the bulk of her jacket. Warm breath teased across the back of her neck as his lips found her thrumming pulse.
“Hurry.”
Why did she have so many keys? She didn’t know what half of them opened. “You’re not making it easy.”
Nash nibbled her ear and chuckled, the sound low like thunder. “Me? You’re the one making things hard.” He nudged her forward, showing her exactly how hard things were getting.
The key glided into the old lock, but before Maggie could turn it, Nash twisted her to face him, capturing her lips in a kiss that promised she’d be his the moment they crossed the threshold into their house.
Center County didn’t have much of a local nightlife, and being that their neighbors were all in their late seventies this side of town, the world belonged solely to them. On nights like this, after more than a few drinks and too many teasing comments on the ride home from her sister’s, she didn’t put it past Nash to take her right there on the front porch for the entire town to see.
Breathless, she pulled her mouth away, her gaze drifting up to the windows of her nosey, elderly neighbor’s house. “Mrs. Nanomaker’s probably watching us.”
He chuckled against her throat, slipping his tongue over her pulse. “That saucy old minx. She gets her jollies from spying on us.”
Maggie bit his lip and nudged him back so she could get the door open. “Doubtful. She was the wife of a preacher.”
“They’re the ones you have to watch out for.” Nash caught her hips as the lock gave way.
The old latch stuck, and she moaned. “We need a new doorknob. This one needs more finessing than a virgin bride.”
With one hand buried inside her coat, he used his other one to jostle the handle. Cold fingers grazed her flesh, and she sucked in a sharp breath. The faint scent of snow clung to the air. They needed to get into the warmth, because knowing her husband, she only had about thirty seconds before he started pulling off her clothes—freezing temperatures be damned.
“You have to jerk it to the left.”
He chuckled. “I was gonna say the same to you.”
“Focus. It’s starting to snow again.”
“I am. This damn door…”
She glanced at the street, soft flurries falling onto the already icy roads. “Light would help.”
“Don’t start.”
She’d only asked him to replace the porch bulb a hundred times. It was a constant on their to-do lists, sort of a joke at this point. No matter how many times they went to the market, they always forgot the damn lightbulbs.
He yanked the knob and the door gave way. “Now, get inside so I can get inside you.”
The moment they crossed the threshold he spun her to face him and yanked her coat halfway down her arms. Pressing his lips to the slope of her shoulder, he caught her hips and corralled her toward the stairs. He worked the button of her jeans, jerking the denim open. They weren’t going to make it to the bed.
“Upstairs,” she insisted. “In the bed.”
“Oh, Mrs. O’Malley, lack of furniture isn’t going to stop me.” The sweet scent of whiskey on his breath teased the fallen hairs around her face as his finger slipped between her hot folds and filled her. “I need inside of you, now.”
The first stroke of his touch filled her lungs with a gasp. Her lashes lowered as her body melted in his arms. No matter how many times he touched her, it always felt like the first time. A swarm of butterflies tickled her insides as he caressed and kissed her, casting some unbreakable spell over them.
