Penmort Castle (18 page)

Abby felt tears
well in her eyes as guilt tore at her heart because, even though it
wasn’t her idea to have this dinner, her “new man” wasn’t her new
man at all.

The entire
situation was a deception and she was inadvertently making a fool
of her new friend.

Her voice was
hoarse when she started, “Mrs. Truman –” but she didn’t get to
finish not that she knew what to say.

The men came in
bearing coats and the mood and moment was broken.

It was broken
further when Abby tried to give Mrs. Truman a hug, not only as a
thank you for dinner, but as a gesture of newfound camaraderie.

Mrs. Truman was
having none of it.

“I do
not
hug,” she announced, rearing away from Abby and putting
her hand up at the same time to ward her off. “Americans
hug
. Englishwomen kiss cheeks and even then they do their
very best
not
to
touch,
” she said her last word as if
the thought of touching was repugnant.

Abby was for
the first time not offended or irritated by her cranky
neighbour.

She simply
said, “Very well, Mrs. Truman. You get the English way in your
house but when you come over to my house, you have to hug me
good-bye.”

“I think not,”
Mrs. Truman snapped.

“I think
yes,
” Abby retorted.

“No,” Mrs.
Truman returned.

“We might hold
hands too,” Abby threatened on a tease and Mrs. Truman made a
“humph” sound but Abby was guessing there wasn’t a lot of feeling
in that “humph”.

Abby smiled at
her and said softly, “Good night, Mrs. Truman.”

Mrs. Truman’s
face ever-so-slightly warmed. “Good night, Abigail.”

Cash settled
his coat on her shoulders, more farewells were exchanged and she
and Cash led the way, Kieran and Jenny following, out of the
house.

On the pavement
in front of Mrs. Truman’s house they said their good-byes with
Jenny grasping Abby’s hand and whispering a firm, “We have to chat.
Call me.
”

Abby pulled
away and with false brightness in the face of impending doom,
declared, “Will do.”

Cash steered
her to her house, took the keys from her, opened the latch and
pressed her inside, following her.

He then closed
the door behind them and took his coat from her shoulders, hooking
it on her coat stand.

Abby watched
him doing this.

Then it dawned
on her drunken mind that the night was over.

Then it hit her
that they were in her house. Something she didn’t want. Something
she needed to protect herself from. Something which she could just
come to terms with if he stayed in the hall, living room and
kitchen, common areas that didn’t intrude too much on her precious
memories.

However, Cash
wasn’t staying in the vestibule. He snapped off the light switch
and grabbed her hand.

Then he led her
to the stairs.

Panic beginning
to pierce her drunken state, she pulled at her hand (which didn’t
stop him) while asking, “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to
bed,” he replied calmly, turning at the stairs and he had her up
three of them when she came to a dead halt and he stopped with
her.

“I can get to
bed on my own,” she told him.

“You aren’t
sleeping on your own,” he returned.

The breath
squeezed out of Abby’s lungs and the beginning panic bloomed like a
mushroom cloud.

She forced it
back and said, “I thought we were going to your place.”

He was one step
up and looking down at her. “We were, until you got drunk. But then
you got drunk. Now we’re staying here.”

He turned away
and started to move forward but she stayed where she was and
declared, “I’d prefer to stay at your place.”

His torso
twisted and he looked back down at her. “And I’d prefer to stay
here.”

“Why?” she
asked, her voice, she heard with irritation, sounding slightly
shrill, hinting at the panic she felt.

With a firm tug
on her hand, he forced her up to the step where he was standing.
Then he dropped her hand and both of his came to rest on her
neck.

“Because it’s
late and you’re inebriated. You get in the car you’re likely to
fall asleep. I don’t want you intoxicated, asleep and in a car. I
want you intoxicated, awake and in a bed. This is the closest one
available unless you’d like to ask Mrs. Truman if she has a guest
bedroom.”

“Cash –” she
started to protest but his thumb came to rest on her lips,
effectively silencing her.

Once there, it
slid across her lower one and she found she liked that so much she
couldn’t speak much less protest.

“All day,” he
said in that deeper, sexier, throatier burr that she liked so much,
“I’ve been thinking about what I’d do to you tonight. All… fucking…
day.” His thumb disappeared from her lip, his fingers slid into her
hair to cup the back of her head as he got closer at the same time
her heart started beating faster. “And after our time in the
kitchen,” he went on, “all night, I’ve been waiting to get you to
bed.” The thumb of his hand still at her neck put pressure on her
jaw to tip her head back further. “And I think you know how I feel
about waiting.”

She couldn’t
say anything; she’d lost the ability to speak. Even if she could,
she still couldn’t.

Because he
kissed her.

And it wasn’t
like any of the times before. This one was different. She knew it
immediately. This one was not in her control and neither was it in
his. This one was sweltering from its start, burning through
her.

This one was
leading somewhere.

And Abby wanted
to go there.

She felt a
thrill race through her that was only partly fear (a
small
part) but mostly something else entirely.

Her mouth
opened under his, his tongue slid inside and the minute it did she
was lost.

She didn’t care
they were in her house. She didn’t care that she didn’t want him
there. She didn’t care that her feelings were confused. She didn’t
care that losing control put her on even shakier ground. And
lastly, she didn’t care that she was supposed to be keeping her
head screwed on straight and she most assuredly was not.

She didn’t care
about anything but his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth and
the amazing things her body was feeling.

She melted into
him, her arms going around his back, her body pressing against
his.

At her
uninhibited response, his hand fisted in her hair, sending tingles
from her scalp straight down her spine (and other areas besides).
The fingers of his other hand tightened on her neck as he leaned
into her, bending her back, deepening the kiss.

She felt this
new intensity surge through her system, making her knees go
weak.

Somewhere in
the back of her mind it registered that it had never been this
good.

Never, never,
never
.

And she wanted
more.

She let him
take the weight of her as she concentrated less on remaining
upright and more on the pleasant, heady sensations rushing through
her.

His mouth tore
from hers, his hands disappeared and she teetered a moment before
he bent and lifted her in his arms. She made a noise, half of
surprise, half from desire. Her arms curled around his neck, his
mouth came back to hers and he kissed her while carrying her to her
room.

And Abby liked
that he carried her, the strength of him, his mouth on hers. It
made her world tilt; she felt wonderfully dizzy and hoped the world
would never come right again.

He set her at
her feet beside the bed and, mouth still on hers, he shrugged off
his suit jacket, dropping it to the floor. Then he leaned into her
and she was falling back onto the bed, his heavy, solid weight on
top of her.

She forgot how
this felt, having a man cover you, and she realised she missed it.
The warmth of it, the safety of it, how it could shut out
everything else and make just the two of you be the whole
world.

But even though
this thought sifted through her brain, Ben didn’t enter her
mind.

It was all
Cash, his long, hard body, the smell of his woodsy, spicy cologne,
his weight, his mouth, all of him, every single inch.

She found she
craved him, all-of-a-sudden she couldn’t get enough, pulling his
shirt from his trousers, her hands slid up the hot skin of his back
as he kissed her and she kissed him back.

He rolled,
taking her with him, yanking her skirt up around her hips as he did
so. He sat up, forcing her to straddle him. His mouth broke from
hers and he pulled at his tie, the knot coming free, he slid it
from his collar and tossed it aside.

All the while
Abby’s mouth was at Cash’s neck, tasting his skin (and liking it),
gliding along his strong jaw and her hands were at the buttons of
his shirt, shaking with desire as she undid them.

While she was
at her task, he grasped her dress, pulling it up and forcing her up
with it. She happily lifted her arms as he tugged it off and threw
it aside.

Then their
mouths collided, his hands roaming, skin-against-skin, and it felt
as if every centimetre he touched was connected straight between
her legs.

His mouth
disengaged and he pressed into her, arms around her, torso twisted
and she heard his shoes hit the floor. He pulled back and she
finished with his buttons, tugged the shirt over his shoulders,
down his arms, dislodging his hands from her skin. Quickly, because
she wanted them back, she yanked the shirt free of his body and
tossed it away.

His arms came
around her, crushing her as he fell back, then rolled, mostly on
top of her, his mouth gliding down her jaw, her neck, her chest,
then it was closing on her nipple over her bra.

“Cash…” she
breathed, her hands sliding slowly into his hair. Then she gasped
as he pulled her nipple sharply into his mouth.

It had been so
long since she had this, her body so deprived, Cash so warm and
heavy, his hands causing shivers, his mouth talented, the heat shot
from her nipple to between her legs and she felt herself
quivering.

It was early
but she was ready.

She was ready
now
.

Her hand
travelled down his arm, fingers finding his wrist, she brought his
hand to the heat of her and pressed it in right where she needed
it.

“Jesus, Abby,”
he growled against her nipple and even his voice, rougher than
ever, made her wet.

His lips came
to hers and needing no more coaxing, his fingers took over. As his
tongue slid inside her mouth, his hand slid inside her panties and
then he was touching her.

She gasped at
the sweetness of it, arching her back, straining her hips against
his hand as his finger found her and started move.

It was
great.

No, it was
awesome.

No, it was
amazing
.

So much so she
had to tell him.

“Cash,” she
breathed, “don’t stop. That’s amazing.”

She felt his
smile against her mouth and luckily he didn’t stop. He kept going.
He kept going until she was squirming against his hand and she felt
it. It was coming and she knew by the feel of it that it was going
to shatter her world.

But something
wasn’t right. She couldn’t do it alone.

No, she
could.

She just didn’t
want
to.

“You,” she said
urgently, her breath coming in pants.

His mouth had
gone away but he hadn’t. When her eyes partly opened she saw he was
close and watching her.

“You,” she
repeated, turning into him, losing control, coming close to letting
go and letting it happen.

“Abby,” he
murmured and her hand went to his stomach, sliding down, feeling
his hardness, hearing his soft groan at her touch and she knew she
wanted all of him.

If she had a
choice between breathing and having Cash inside her at that moment
she would have chosen the latter.

“Cash,” she
breathed, tugging at his belt, “stop.”

He gave a
short, harsh laugh at her words. “Darling, I
can’t
stop.”

“No, don’t
stop. I mean,” she pressed her torso deeper into his and before
sanity could invade or she lost herself in what his hand was doing,
she whispered insistently, “I want it to happen with you. Please, I
want you inside me.”

She no sooner
got out the words then his hand went away and so did he. She
blinked in the darkness at the sudden cold, opening her mouth to
object but then her panties were pulled down her legs and he rolled
over her.

She felt his
hand between them working at his trousers right before his mouth
crushed hers in a mind-boggling kiss.

Her legs opened
in invitation, his hips slid between, his tongue touching hers and
then he was inside her, buried to the hilt, filling her
completely.

And
that
felt
beyond
amazing.

“Yes,” she
whispered as he moved, not slowly but fast, hard, hot, her body
jolting lusciously with his thrusts.

She wrapped her
arms around him as he pulled one of her legs around his waist, her
other thigh he pushed up against his side, giving him better access
so he could go deeper, thrust harder and she liked it.

No, she loved
it.

And she felt
it; she knew it was back, ready to overwhelm her.

“Cash,” she
gasped and his mouth moved from the skin below her ear as his head
came up so he could look at her.

“I want it.”
His words were a demand uttered in a husky rumble that so affected
her, Abby slid over the edge.

“Cash,” she
repeated on a soft cry as it started.

His fingers
drove into her hair, tugging it gently, pulling her head back so
her neck arched even further than it did naturally with her climax.
His mouth went to her neck, she felt his lips there, his tongue
touching her, his body moving inside hers but it was mostly the
scrumptious, momentous, earth-shattering explosion of her body she
was feeling.