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“He’s good. Apparently it was a small stroke, but he’s expected to make a full recovery.”
“So”—her fingers crept along her chest—“two nights in a row. That’s a record for me.”
“Good to know.” He chuckled.
“If we’re going out, I’ll need to shower.”
The thought of Maggie naked and wet in the shower did all sorts of crazy things to him. “That sounds like an amazing idea.” He nuzzled her neck and smiled at the groan that slipped from between her lips. “I could use a shower myself.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?”
Holy hell, but she set him on fire. Cain grabbed her mouth with his. He cupped her face between his hands and marked her with a deep, passionate kiss that left them both breathless when he finally pulled away.
“Let’s go,” he said hoarsely.
He made it back to Maggie’s in record time, and the two of them were like giddy teenagers—all fumbling hands, tearing of clothes, and the mad, insane, desperate need to be together.
Hot water mixed with passion made for a hedonistic experience. Cain took his time and cleaned every single inch of his woman. He lathered and stroked and kneaded and massaged until she trembled against him. He was man enough to admit to a certain amount of pride in the fact that he’d coaxed several orgasms from her as he did so.
And when he finally drove his body into hers, when her legs were wrapped tight around his waist, her breasts crushed against his chest, and the heat of her surrounded him in a warm, wet sheath, he experienced something he’d never known before. Complete and utter surrender.
He felt like…he’d just come home.
“Oh Cain, that was…” She was breathless, and he kissed her bruised lips.
“Yeah.” He wrapped her in a towel and carried her into her bedroom. “It was.”
She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. Cain loved the sound of her laughter.
“Dammit, Maggie, we should just stay here and eat and have sex and then eat some more.”
“And have sex?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She walked to her dresser, and his eyes followed the smooth, easy lines of her body. She was petite, but had a dancer’s body—lithe and fluid. He felt a twinge below once more—her ass was damn fine to look at as well.
“We should hurry up. I want to see Michael before Sharon’s husband picks him up.” She slipped into a pair of pink boy-short undies and he groaned. Christ, it wasn’t fair what a little slip of lingerie could do to a man. “Where are we going?”
“What?” He dragged his gaze from her delectable body.
“Tonight? Where are we going?” She bit her lip. “I don’t know what to wear. Not like I have much choice but…”
He crossed to her, stooped, and closed his mouth around one of her nipples, teasing the peak into a hard pebble as his tongue stroked.
“God, Cain, if you keep this up we won’t make it out the door, and I need to see my son.” She pushed him away with a grin, though her heightened color told him all he needed to know. As much as he couldn’t keep his hands off her, she felt the same.
“The Coach House.”
“What was that?” she asked.
“It’s where we’re going, so dress casual. Jeans are fine. Promise me something though.” His grin was wicked as he feasted upon the perfection of her breasts.
“I don’t make promises until I know the consequence.” Her eyes flashed, and he welcomed this saucy side of her wholeheartedly.
“Promise me you won’t wear a bra, and as for the consequence…” He laughed at the expression on her face and pulled her close for one more kiss. “The consequence,?
? he murmured against her mouth as his hands reached down to cup her butt, “will be a repeat of last night…if you’re up for it.”
