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Her front door swung open, revealing Mick in a royal blue flannel shirt, worn jeans, boots—he had to have gone home at some point and changed—and a single crimson rose. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. In the midst of everything, she completely forgotten it was Valentine’s today. She gave him a wide smile and shook her head in disbelief as she took the offered rose. And he’d called her—sweetheart?
His endearment rattled loose more of the fortress she’d erected around her heart. She’d set him up with Felicity, tried so hard to “make a go of her new business” that she’d ignored every signal her body had been screaming. Broke the cardinal rule of being a matchmaker—falling for her client. But if she was truly honest with herself, he’d fallen for her well before she’d decided to match him up with someone else.
It’d been a losing battle from the start.
One she should’ve given into a lot sooner.
It would’ve at least prevented the heartbreak over wondering whether Mick had like Felicity or not. Of course, she knew now how ridiculous that match had been. If she hadn’t been so keen on him being her first client…everything would’ve gone so much smoother these past couple of days.
He curled one arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest and kissed the top of her head. “Please don’t cry. I have all these plans for you today and none of them include tears.” He nuzzled his bearded cheek against hers and nipped at her lips until she opened her mouth, allowing him to sweep his tongue through her mouth.
She threw her arms around his neck and crushed herself against his body. They melded and moaned and became a cohesive entity, moving in sync. His arms circled her body, lifting her by the ass and grinding her down against the hard length filling out his jeans. Her body ached with unsatisfied want.
Laurel wrapped her legs around his waist, freeing up Mick’s hands which went directly to the back of her head where he untied the bun holding her hair in place. He cupped the back of her head, angling more and more, deepening his kiss. Claiming more of her.
“Not. Making. It. Out,” she panted against his mouth.
He groaned, pinning her against the foyer wall. “Nope.” Mick unfastened her jeans and pushed on her legs until she released his hips. His mouth traveled down as he bent, pushing the waistband south. Down her neck. To her collarbone. He latched onto one of her pebbled nipples through the fabric of her shirt before continuing his journey. His teeth nibbled at her flesh, not caring that he had shirt fabric in his mouth. Tingles of pleasure shot through her body with each scrape and tug.
Then he was kneeling on the floor in front of her. Her pants. Her panties. Both on the ground and his face mere inches from her bare mound.
“God, you smell like heaven, Laurel.”
She looked down into his heated expression and trembled, waiting for him to move again. Would he stand? Would he stay where he was? What was next? The twinkle in his eye said she wasn’t going to remain in wonder very long. His hot breath caressed her slick folds and she leaned against the wall, letting it support her wobbling body. She was so close. One well-placed touch would probably send her spiraling into bliss.
His tongue swept along her slit, moving slowly up toward the throbbing bundle of nerves begging to be stroked. “Please, Mick. Please.” A shudder slid from her chest and she threaded her fingers through his hair, gripping it desperately as her climax swelled inside. His lips closed around her and the gentle suction set her off. Her hips bucked against his mouth and a scream tore from her lips. And he just kept going, ringing every wave, every pulse from her body until she was no more than a limp rag, holding herself upright by sheer force of will.
Chapter 13
Mick glanced over to the passenger seat of his truck where Laurel sat curled against the window, staring out into the threadbare branches of the neighborhood oak trees. He could still smell her arousal. Still taste her on his lips. It’d taken every shred of willpower to pull her pants back on her and carry her moaning-post-orgasmic body out to his truck. All he wanted to do was drown himself in her. Forget what Linda had shown him online. He’d protected Laurel in Somewhere, at least for now. He couldn’t block the internet, but Linda had promised it wouldn’t be written in the paper.
It’d been the least he could do and he’d have done more if he could. But short of driving to Dallas, finding her scum ball of an ex and beating the ever-living shit out of him until he agreed to a public apology, Mick was at an impasse. And he knew the last thing Laurel would want was more contact with whatever-the-fuck the douchebag’s name was.
Forward.Look forward.Forward to having her inhisbed. To being inside her again. To being with her each and every free moment of the rest of his life.
Holy shit.
The rest of his life.
Was he caught up in the moment? Or was he really considering—after such a short time—that she wasit?
He pulled into his drive and parked close to the porch steps. His home was similar to the one Laurel had purchased. A little bigger. More updated—mostly because he’d updated it slowly over years of living there.
“Your house looks like what mine dreams of being,” she said, a smile brightening her tone from the sexy rasp it had been only a few minutes previous.
He chuckled. “It used to look like that too. Just had a bit more work and a few more coats of paint applied.”
“You expecting other company?” Laurel nodded toward the rearview mirror. A maroon sedan pulled into the driveway behind him and a man in a slick gray suit popped out of the driver’s seat with a large manila envelope.
Mick shook his head. “Not that I know of. Stay in the truck. I’ll be right back.” He got out and headed for the stranger, his steps as hard as the line his mouth formed. “Why are you on my property?”
“I’m trying to find Ms. Hart. She’s with you, yes?” The greasy black-haired guy in a suit that probably cost more than Mick made in a month craned his neck to try and look at his truck.
Mick shrugged. “Nobody’s here unless you tell me who you are in the next three seconds. Right now I’m gonna walk back to my truck, pull the shotgun out of the back seat, and let your car have it before I aim it at your head.”
“Winston. Winston Gritton from Hale & Marks in Dallas. We’ve been informed that Ms. Hart has broken her non-compete. This is a court order dictating that any matchmaking business she’s opened in Somewhere Texas is hereby shut down. Non-compliance will result in an immediate lawsuit and hundreds of thousands of dollars I’m sure she can’t afford.”
