Midnight (McKenna Chronicles Book 1) (13 page)

Damn.
I guess I asked for it and now I know. I’m back to speechless, not sure how I
feel about this. Honest, yes. Can my fragile psyche accept Colin in his
physical state only, no emotional connection? The only thought rolling through
my addled brain is the mantra I have lived by: take it day by day. This I know
how to do. Today, Colin is offering himself to me.

His
eyes are trained on mine, waiting for my response. I turn, crawling up on the
couch so I’m on my knees beside him. Leaning in, I place a very gentle kiss on
his lips, but he doesn’t respond at first, holding very still. I pull back,
ever-so-slightly opening my eyes to look into his brilliant blue stare, a
silent offering of consolation for his pain. “Breathe me, Colin,” I whisper
into his mouth before leaning back into him to place a light pressure, my lips
to his. He moans, one hand snaring my head the other gripping my waist tightly
pulling me into him. His mouth is desperate against mine. His tongue plunges
inside my mouth, moving recklessly as he claims me as his.

Pushing
my hands into the top of his shirt to feel the small tuft of hair feathering
out of the open collar, I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him closer,
trying to crawl into him. He moans a low, sensual sound in the back of his
throat, lifting me on top of his lap so I’m straddling his thighs. I grind my
hips reflexively, his erection tipping into me at the perfect pitch to spike a
deep throbbing need at the break of my thighs.

Colin’s
breath hitches harshly as he withdraws his lips from mine, staring intently.
His hands grasp my hips hard, pushing, rubbing, slowly pressing his erection up
and into my parted thighs. His gaze is so unbelievably erotic I can’t look
away, entranced by the burning need in his eyes and replicated in the push of
his hips. Oh, that feels so good. I’m expertly aroused by the feel of him
poised below the most sensitive part of my body. I gasp at the sharp, intense
pleasure throbbing low in my belly.

We
begin a gentle rhythm; his hands holding me steady as he rubs against me, our
eyes connected the entire time. My breath comes in heavy waves, and I begin to
pant when my body does something I’ve never experienced before. He feels so
good and he’s making me feel even better. This connection, this unfamiliar yet
extraordinary connection, is absolute perfection.

“Colin,”
I whisper, leaning into him, our foreheads resting together. He opens his mouth
to respond but the only sound he makes is a low moan while he breathes in my
panted breath. His hips pick up the tempo, pushing me until I’m afraid I might
fall apart and shatter into a million brilliant pieces.

His
phone startles us both. Quickly sending the call to voicemail, he doesn’t miss
a beat with his hips, but it immediately rings again.

Glaring
at the screen he lets out a long sigh, and then answers it curtly, “McKenna.”

Shit
.
I groan inwardly, trying to steady my pulse and the riotous feelings pulsing
uncontrollably inside me. Our rhythm broken, his free hand lingers on my thigh,
kneading gently. I can tell by his tone and the change in his eyes he has to
take the call.

His
eyes find mine, an apology waiting in their depths. Smiling, I lean forward to
briefly kiss his lips in between conversation. Colin’s return smile is
breathtaking. Kissing him once more, heat immediately flares between us as his
mouth works over mine. My heart leaps before pulling back, knowing I have to
leave him to work.

I
lay my head into his neck for a minute until I’m no longer panting. His voice
is calm and soothing as he speaks into the phone.

When
I’m capable of walking, I sit up. Suddenly shy at the realization of what we’ve
said and done, I climb off of his lap as gracefully as I can. Stealing into the
bathroom, I need time to recover from the latest mind-boggling morning with
Colin McKenna.

AS I FINISH
tidying
the large tendrils of hair that escaped during my morning make-out session with
Colin, a light knock resonates on the door.

“Charlie?”
he calls. When I open it, my face flushes spontaneously at the sight of him,
and his warm, broad smile immediately sets my stomach fluttering.

“Hi.”
It’s the only thing I can manage.

“Evan
and I are heading out to meet a couple of friends. Would you like to join us?”
His look is that of a man asking a girl, not a presidential candidate asking a
member of his communications team.

“I
thought it was a business meeting? I don’t want to interfere,” I say
truthfully.

“Not
at all, Charlie,” he says kindly. “I’d like you to go. Blake owns a brewery not
far from here and weather permitting, Aiden is taking us for a ride to tour the
coast. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

My
answer is a wide grin. “Let me get my boots on and I’ll be ready.”

Five
minutes later we leave Colin’s suite, heading for the elevator. I'm nervous.
After offering myself to him and writhing all over his lap I probably shouldn't
be, but I am. The silence between us isn't uncomfortable, his face is relaxed
and his fingers brush against mine as I've drifted close to his side. I want to
grab his hand, hold on tight and never let go. Yet I know that's not what I've
agreed to. Intimacy must remain behind closed doors.  

Ever
the gentleman, Colin holds the elevator doors to ensure they remain open,
allowing me to enter first. He follows me in pressing the button for the lobby.

As
we begin to descend, he turns to me, slowly running his fingers from my temple
to chin. Taking my hand in his, he raises it to his lips, brushing them gently
against my fingers. My heart skips a beat and I give him a small grin. I can’t
resist him and I can’t believe I ever thought I could stay away.

As
the elevator comes to a stop he turns toward the doors, loosening his hand from
mine when they open.

Evan
is waiting for us in the lobby. Grinning he says, “Hey, Charlie. Glad you
didn’t slip into a coma.” He winks at me and Colin gives him a hard glare.
Without further delay we walk outside to a waiting car.

~

The ride is easy
and enjoyable. Evan sits in the front with the driver and Colin is in the back
with me. Our eyes meet periodically, and several times Colin reaches across to
secretly touch my hand, a soft brush of his fingers on my skin. My heart jumps
at the contact. He grins wickedly, as if he can sense the acceleration, and my
face flames. I look out the window to hide my silly grin, just as we pull in
the parking lot.

Blake and two of
his brothers own a large brewery not far from the Atlantic Ocean. It's a
massive building, built from natural planks of wood with a tin roof. The front
is covered by large windows, standing tall along the entire length of the
structure from floor to ceiling. Through the windows, the giant brew tanks are
visible. Chalkboards attached to each one are filled with graphic letters
describing the contents and highlighting the flavor.

Colin
slides easily out of the truck, and before I have a chance to move he's there,
holding his hand out to assist me down. The ever present electricity shoots up
my arm when we touch and I gaze into his smoky blue eyes. I'm learning to
embrace the reaction he elicits, a quickening heartbeat, an instant rush of
breath and the butterfly wings fluttering in my stomach. It's exciting and I like
it. With a squeeze to my fingers he releases my hand, but remains by my side as
we approach the entrance.

Blake
greets us at the door with a generous bear hug for Colin and Evan. All three of
them are smiling like schoolboys. Blake is huge, tall and wide like a
lumberjack. Colin turns to me, placing his hand very lightly on my back,
guiding me forward.

"Blake,
this is Charlie Carter. Charlie is a journalist working with me to chronicle
the campaign.”

Blake’s
hand reaches for mine. His grip is firm and welcoming. “It’s very nice to meet
you, Charlie,” he says with a gleam in his eye and a small knowing smile.

“Come
in, please. I have the perfect concoction to start your morning.”

After
taking our coats, he waves us in to a large room where we’re met by silence and
bar-height tables. Due to the early hour the brewery is free of patrons,
leaving the steady clip of our footsteps to echo off of the high ceilings.
Stretching along the far wall is a modern bar, a complex weave of different
woods blended expertly together. A high-sheen wax on top displaces the light as
it filters through the windows.

Blake
motions us to the bar as he walks behind it. Colin holds a stool out for me,
and takes a seat by my side. The force of our attraction is like a
gravitational pull. I'm drawn in, whether walking side by side or sitting next
to him—my body adjusts to his. Inching closer, I lean in until the heat from
his shoulder radiates through my sweater.  

Colin’s
focus is on Blake, yet I catch him glancing my way, and the corner of his mouth
lifts. God, his lips. My fingers wander to mine, still sensitive from the
intensity of his kiss, and I want his on me again.
Holy mackerel, Carter.
Get your head out of the gutter
.

I
force my eyes away from temptation to watch Blake place a plate of cheese,
fruit and crackers in front of Colin. “It’s never too early for good beer,” he
says just as a young waitress appears with sample platters of the many
different beers, expertly brewed. Her eyes lift from the tray she’s carrying.
Stumbling, she almost crashes into Blake as her gaze fixes on Colin. A bright
flush creeps up from the neck of her T-shirt, brightening her already red
cheeks. If that weren’t bad enough, she forces her eyes away from Colin,
looking to Evan for relief, but her eyes widen and her cheeks flame even
brighter when she sees him. I struggle to hide my smile, understanding her
flustered response to both of these men. On top of the good looks, add Colin’s
position to the mix and it’s downright staggering.

Colin
and Evan don’t seem to notice, continuing their discussion with Blake about the
success of his business. The waitress recovers to a degree and presents each of
us a long plank of wood, matching the rustic yet modern décor of the bar
perfectly. Each one holds generous size mugs lined in two rows, six to sample
in all.

“I
see you put your chemistry degree to good work,” Evan smirks, not hesitating to
take a deep gulp.

“Ah,
Evan, my mother always told me to follow my heart, and it led me here.” Blake
smiles, motioning around the room, a loving caress of the large taverns of ale
that surround him.

Laughing,
I take a sip of a dark lager, bitter but good, and enjoy their conversation.
The three of them reminisce about their college years and move on to discuss
the tragedy that has befallen Blake’s beloved New Jersey when Hurricane Sandy
came through more than a year ago. The coast continues its struggle to recover
from the devastation. I listen intently, the sorrow evident in Blake’s voice,
Colin and Evan commiserating.

I
finish my first mug, and Colin leans over to whisper in my ear, “You should eat
something. Blake’s drinks can sneak up on you.” His breath warms my cheek, his
lips close to sweeping against my skin.

Evan
and Blake become background noise, and time is suspended, belonging only to us.
My head tilted down, I look up through my lashes and blink twice. I pick up
another mug and take a deep sip, pulling the glass from my mouth to lick the
foam off of my top lip with the tip of my tongue. His eyes darken and flare infinitesimally
while staring at the path my tongue took a moment before. He seems to drift
toward me, unseen waves sweeping him forward, until his breath blends with
mine. His lids lower as his gaze flicks to my eyes and then back to my mouth.
With a deep breath, his chest expands, rising and broadening, as his hand
leaves the bar top to find residence on my thigh. The weight of it resonates
through my lower body, which pulses with the knowledge of what this man does to
me. My lips part in invitation at the same time his head dips closer. 

We
are saved from each other when a beautiful raven-haired woman walks into the
room holding a basket in her delicate hands. Our eyes reconnect for only a
second, but the heat passing between us is heavy, distinct and provoking. He
breaks away, turning to greet the newcomer.

 “Colin.”
Her voice is melodic with a hint of an Irish accent. “And Evan, too.” Her smile
is beautiful. “It’s so good to see you both.” The room warms with her soothing
tone and welcoming spirit. I instantly like her. She glances at me, tilting her
head in reflection as she gazes into my eyes. Hers are a clear gray-blue, as if
the color were washed away with a heavy rain. I can’t look away, transfixed by
her inquiring, penetrating stare, searching for the heart of me, intent on
finding the truth. Finally, she smiles and the spell is broken. I smile in
turn, looking at Colin, gauging his response to her reaction toward me. He’s
looking at Carla, her eyes directed at him with the same smile on her lips.

“Colin,”
she says in her melodic voice, “your future is bright indeed.” I wonder if her
eyes flick toward me for the shortest of seconds.

Blake
interrupts her before she can continue. “Carla, this is Charlie. She's working
with Colin on his campaign. She’s a journalist.” Carla moves to stand in front
of me, offering her hand, squeezing mine gently when I take it.

“You
have a beautiful accent. You’re from Ireland?” I ask the obvious question.

“Yes,
long ago. Blake couldn’t live without me, so he stole me away to the States.”
She looks lovingly at her husband, the look returned from him.

Carla’s
eyes find mine again, a question hidden within them. “And how did Colin find
you?”

I
dip my head and chance a glance at him beside me and then back to Carla. “I
don’t know that he found me. Colin and I met at his press conference in
January. He asked me to chronicle his campaign and I agreed. It’s a great
opportunity for my career.” I lift my shoulders in a shrug; let’s keep it
directed at business.