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Authors: Heather McGovern

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BOOK: A Moment of Bliss
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Chapter 19
W
armly and softly, he kissed her. He brushed his lips over hers, less demanding than last night, coaxing her open until he deepened the kiss. A flick of his tongue, and Madison let him in, pulling him down on top of her.
“I make a very good blanket,” he teased.
She laughed, covering her mouth.
“Don't cover up your laugh,” he said, moving down to kiss her neck, her collarbone. “I love your laugh.”
She urged him into another kiss, afraid of what she might say. He “loved” her laugh; he “loved” her hair when it was a mess. He tossed that word around so comfortably. A word she never heard, and
never
used.
She kissed him deeper, needing the urgency instead of sweetness. If he kept kissing her softly, touching her as though she were precious—if he kept being the person that he was—then she would truly break.
Roark had flaws, the same as anyone else, but his flaws helped him understand her. Perfectly. And it was too much.
“I need you,” she said, wanting to move things along.
“I need you too.” He went back to kissing her neck until he got to that tender spot that she liked so much, right at her collarbone. He laved over it with his tongue.
“No. I mean . . . right now.”
“Okay.” He breathed the words against her skin. “But what's the rush? You cold?”
She was far from cold. She was a growing fire, and it was because of him. Like the embers beside them, she was dancing flame, with the same risk of burning everything in sight.
He slid his hands up and down her sides, warming her with his touch. Her nipples tightened hard and he cupped her breasts, thumbing one while flicking his tongue over the other. She jerked against him, clutching his arms with both hands.
“Roark.” She sighed.
“Okay . . . okay.” He moved away and one of the blankets fell away from him, so he wrapped it tighter around her upper half and sat up.
“Where are you going? You're going to get cold.”
He glanced at the fire. “Doubtful. I run hot anyway.”
She noticed.
“Besides, I'm not going anywhere.” He put hands under the backs of her knees and tugged until her legs were on either side of him.
She formed a small, silent, “Oh,” with her mouth.
“I don't think I'll be cold,” he said, settling between her thighs.
He concentrated his attention on her with the same focus and enthusiasm as last night. Touching and licking, teasing and coaxing at the bundle of nerves until she went from being a woman in control to a babbling, quivering woman in need.
Roark was relentless, even as her body tensed, her legs squeezing at his shoulders. All he did was hum happily—or smugly, who really cared?—and she pressed into his mouth, gripping at his hair. She rocked with each flick of his tongue, all thoughts of rushing forgotten.
“More.”
He gave her more and more until she arched her back and . . .
“Oh. Holy . . . yes!” she cried out, pulling at his hair as the orgasm hit her. Writhing against him, she made a noise in her throat that shocked her. Roark wrapped his arms under her legs and held on, sucking gently at her cleft until she made it again.
“Damn. . . . it.” Her legs went loose and numb as she slumped on the blanket, the shivers running through her again.
He kissed the inside of each thigh again, then her stomach, working his way back up and wriggling in to get under the edge of the blanket. He settled over her, but Madison kept her eyes closed, a smile on her face.
“I'm definitely not cold,” she said after a moment.
“Me neither.”
She hooked a leg over his, moving so that his erection nestled right into her hip. “You came prepared?”
“I'm always prepared.” He reached out of the pile of blankets and made the quickest grab and tear of foil of anybody, ever.
“Let me put it on,” she said, taking the condom from him as he settled back between her legs.
She reached down, stroking the length of him, running her fingers over his sac until he gave an involuntary jerk, his eyes rolling shut.
She rolled the condom on, watching his face the entire time. She stroked him again before lying back.
Roark followed her movement, leaning forward, the blanket falling away. He was built like the perfect outdoorsman.
He held Madison's hip, still touching her, still caressing her.
It had to be a little chilly for him, partially out of the blankets, but he didn't rush. Each time he'd gone about having sex like he was on a mission to make her one big trembling mess.
He succeeded each time.
And he wasn't turned off by a woman who liked to take the lead in bed sometimes, but today, right now, she wanted him to take her.
Roark pushed himself inside of her, and she felt every inch.
With both hands on her hips, he lifted her up, tilting her pelvis. “Wrap your legs around me,” he told her, and she did. He rolled his hips, thrusting into her, a steady look of concentration on his face.
She studied that look, committing it to memory. Now, whenever she caught a glimpse of him studying his notes on his phone, she'd think of this.
“You're beautiful,” he said, reaching out to hold her hand and kissing her temple.
With him, she felt beautiful. She tucked her forehead into his shoulder, shivering despite the heat coursing through her body.
“Hey.” Roark's breath tickled her ear. “You okay?”
She nodded, keeping her face hidden. She needed a second before she could look at him.
“You feel so good,” he murmured.
He felt like everything she'd always wanted sex to be. Unhindered and hot and earthshaking. She didn't have to hold back, or worry about intimidating or scaring him away because she pounced on him in the forest or shoved him back onto a bed and took charge.
She had that with Roark, and having it was both wonderful—and terrifying.
Madison pushed the whisper of fear away, running her hands up Roark's forearms, the muscles taut from holding her. She didn't want to think about what this might mean. She only wanted to feel.
“Harder,” she whispered to him. “I still want to feel you when I wake up tomorrow.”
Her gaze locked with his, Roark's eyes dark and hungry. He thrust into her, steadily faster, working his jaw. They kept going, moving against one another until they were slick with the sheen of sweat.
He grabbed her left leg, hoisting it higher, changing the angle so that it shot sparks into her core. “I want to feel you too,” he said. “So tomorrow . . . we can look at each other . . . and know.”
With his words, her orgasm rushed toward her. Arching her back, she welcomed it. Know what? She wasn't sure, but her climax hit as though the campfire beside them had exploded and all around her were sparks and fire.
She eased down with Roark holding her. He tried to shift off of her, but she held on. Shivering, embracing him, not wanting to lose him just yet.
Eventually, she let him roll to the side to dispose of the condom before settling down with her, the blankets draped over his chest. He ran his hand over her hair, threading his fingers through the strands until he worked all of the tangles loose.
They lay that way for what might have been a few minutes or it could've been an hour. She didn't care, because she didn't want to leave. Finally, the fire began to dwindle.
“We didn't get to the s'mores,” Roark said.
“You brought s'mores?”
“Can't have a campfire without them.” His words were warm against her hair. “But we should probably head back.”
“I know.” But she didn't want to. Working with the Bradleys might be one of her easiest and most enjoyable jobs so far, but still . . . it was work. Real life. Escaping all of that with Roark satisfied a gaping need she didn't know she had.
“I'm glad we did this today,” he said, his low voice and drawl vibrating his chest, making her want to curl up and purr. “Not just the sex either. I mean . . . hanging out, and talking.”
Talking. Like when she'd opened up to him despite herself, despite her better judgment.
He eased up and reached for her underwear and pants, handing them to her. Then he grabbed his boxers and jeans and managed to wiggle into them while under the blanket. “Hang on.”
He hurried from under the blankets to grab her shoes, top, and bra, which she'd strewn farther up the bank.
Madison dressed in silence, studying the man beside her.
“Thank you,” she said, drawing his attention and then finding herself at a loss. Thank you for what? Not hating her? Not running away when she tried a burnout with his truck? For seeing who she really was, and still finding her beautiful? “For . . . you know . . . going to get my stuff.”
Roark shrugged it off but gave her a smile like he knew what she really meant.
And anyway, what kind of guy was nice enough to dart out, half dressed, to get the clothes she'd flung everywhere while in a huff?
The same kind of guy who could run a family business while taking care of his family, and still have wild notions about going skinny-dipping in September.
Roark kept her guessing, yet he made perfect sense. She understood his need for order and control, for hard work and responsibility. She couldn't wrap her mind around how someone so disciplined could also be free and fun loving, but she was learning how good it felt to let go.
With Roark she wasn't just living, she was alive. For the first time in her life, she wanted something outside of work and her own drive to survive. She wanted more.
She wanted Roark.
The realization hit her like jumping into a cold lake. If she had on her running shoes right now, she'd be tempted to take off without him.
“You ready?” she rushed to ask, slipping on her shoes and standing up.
He stood up too, shaking out the blanket and packing stuff away. “Yeah.”
She almost told Roark to go ahead and drive back, she'd run home.
No.
Not home.
Honeywilde was not home, it was an inn, like every other inn or bed and breakfast or hotel she'd used before. The man who ran it was wonderful, but that was in the here and now. It meant nothing long-term. She was only projecting because she finally had someone's attention. Someone who was decent and kind, not some ass trying to take advantage.
In a week, the wedding would be over. She'd leave and start planning another event, the same as always.
This was not home.
Madison slipped on her shoes and led the way back toward the truck. She had to force herself not to run or rush, but act normally. Pretend like everything that just happened had no effect.
She'd told Roark about her past. Some of it anyway. About her childhood, about her parents. A story she hadn't shared with anyone since she was twenty, because she'd learned it hurt less to simply bury the hurt deep and pretend like life had always been fine.
She was fine. She was always fine.
Her lungs burned as though she'd run too far, too fast. She quickened her pace across the clearing, leaving Roark behind. If he noticed her sudden kick into high gear, he didn't say anything. She reached the truck and rushed to the passenger side, holding on to the handle, gripping it hard enough to turn her knuckles white.
Don't freak out, don't freak out. Do not freak out.
She'd only said a few words about her past. Sharing some of herself and knowing more about him should be okay. He still wasn't in any position to hurt her. She would leave Honeywilde when this wedding was over, and it wouldn't matter that he knew her or that she'd let him in momentarily.
In the end, she'd be the same as always.
“Hey,” Roark called over the bed of the truck, throwing the bag of damp towels in. “You okay?”
Madison took a deep breath, brushing her hair off her face before she leaned over and met his gaze, with a painfully big smile. “Of course. I'm fine.”
Chapter 20
T
he next morning, Roark sat at breakfast with his morning paper, his brother and sister eating entirely too fast for proper digestion, and Madison, across from him, pushing scrambled eggs around her plate like she was putting together a puzzle. She hadn't said more than a dozen words to him all morning, and those had been reserved.
Being around her, like this, was stepping back in time to when they first met, and he bet he knew why.
Their time together was running out. They had just under a week until the first guests arrived, then all of this would wrap up and it'd be back to their regularly scheduled lives. And yesterday they'd shared something. They'd had a moment of intimacy that went beyond sex, and it was amazing. Perfect.
He felt wonderful about it, but now Madison was shutting down on him. He couldn't ask her about specifics here, in front of everyone, but maybe yesterday had been too much for her.
Sophie slurped at her coffee so fast she started to cough.
“Okay. What's the matter with all of you?” He folded his paper and laid it aside. “All of our remaining guests are checking out today and we have four days to focus on nothing but the coming weekend. This is one morning we can actually sit and have breakfast and breathe, and you-all are acting like the train's about to pull out of the station
or
like it's run over your toe.”
Sophie swallowed her bite of toast. “I'm having housekeeping and grounds help clear out some of the furniture and roll up rugs near the back of the great room, to open it up and make room for the dance floor. We'll leave the seating nearest the fireplace though.”
“I have some thoughts about what could go where,” he told her.
She patted his arm. “Of course you do.”
“You have opinions on everything,” Dev added. “Don't worry though, I'll incorporate the ‘Great Room According to Roark' in my decisions.”
“Don't be a smart-ass,” he told his brother.
Madison cleared her throat. “Brenda is coming by today as well, to talk layout and where to put which flower arrangements.” She kept her gaze on her eggs, studying them like they were one of life's great mysteries.
“And I'm going to help by giving them my two cents.” Dev sipped his coffee.
Sophie perked up. “You're using Brenda for flowers? I didn't know that. That's awesome.”
“Roark said she was the best.” Madison quickly glanced up at him.
“Oh, she is, and she loves the Bradley boys.”
“I'm pretty sure you're her favorite though.” Devlin stole the last triangle of toast.
“Wait until you see this list of arrangements,” Roark told them. “Madison may make it on her favorites list ahead of all of us. There are at least ten of those big . . .” He glanced at Madison for help, but she'd moved on to fiddling with the handle of her coffee cup. “What are those things called?”
“Centerpieces?” She quirked a brow at him.
“No, the large arrangements, that ‘anchor the room,' as you call it.”
“Features.”
“Yes, features, plus a list of centerpieces and bouquets that's longer than Brenda is tall.”
Devlin leaned back in his seat and looked at Madison. “We need to meet to discuss the trips I lined up to visit the winery and the shopping downtown. I was thinking too, maybe have Steve set up a little champagne bar for the day of arrival. Mimosas for the early people, straight up for the latecomers, sort of set the tone for the weekend.”
A champagne bar was exactly the sort of frivolousness that normally sent Roark into a budgeting-induced tirade. He had to remind himself this was all being paid for, by the couple, and he was not in charge right now.
“I think that's a cool idea,” Sophie answered first, immediately sneaking a look at Roark, waiting for his reaction. He glanced across the table to find Madison staring and waiting as well.
Her words came back to him.
You're pretty tough on your siblings.
He knew he was. He'd always known. From the time Dev was learning to dress himself, through the disaster that were his high school and college years, yes, he was hard on his brother, because someone had to be.
Dev sipped his coffee, an edge sharpening in his gaze, as though he knew Roark was about to squash his fledgling idea to a pulp.
“Yeah, I think that'd be a nice welcoming gesture. Nothing too formal, but a little bubbly always brightens up the atmosphere and makes it festive.”
Madison didn't exactly smile at his response; more of a flash in her eyes. Whether the flash was good or bad, he couldn't quite tell.
Roark picked up his coffee mug, the weight of three people staring at him making it hard to swallow. “What?”
Sophie was the first to speak. Naturally. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I'm great. Why?”
“I bet I know why.” Beside him, Dev half mumbled, half coughed into his napkin so only Roark could hear.
Roark gave him a warning glare and Sophie leaned over to say, “Okay, that's more like it. For a minute I thought maybe I'd woken up in an alternate universe. Don't get me wrong, you two getting along is stellar, but you can't just spring it on me. I need time to adjust.”
That got a mild smirk out of Madison. The most life she'd shown all morning.
“I'm going to go so I can meet my crew in a few minutes.” Sophie slid her chair out, taking one last sip of coffee as she stood.
“I'll go up with you. Brush my teeth and stuff before Brenda gets here. See you in a few.” Dev nodded to Madison before they left the restaurant.
Roark watched them go, both siblings still as aggravating as ever, but he was a little more thankful that he had them around. That he'd always had them around.
“The eggs no good?” he asked Madison, her plate still full of food. Even the biscuits and honey remained untouched.
“Not hungry.”
“If you do get hungry later, let Wright know and he'll hook you up with something. Since everyone is checking out today, I think he's mostly cleaning and doing prep work for Thursday. Don't want you to get peckish.”
“I'm fine.” The words came out clipped, edgier.
“Okay. Just trying to look out for you.”
“I need you to worry about making sure the rest of the inn is topnotch. I know Sophie has the great room and guest rooms covered and Dev is going to help me and Brenda with the layout of the floral arrangements. I want to make sure the inn has never run smoother.”
He felt compelled to remind her he was as invested in this as she was. “I'm anxious about this event too, but it's going to be great. I'll check in with everyone today to make sure.”
“I'm not anxious.”
Sure she wasn't. “All right, then you're fine, but I admit I have some nervous energy, which always makes me the picture of diligence. Everything will be shipshape. I promise.”
Madison put her silverware on her plate. “Great. That's all I ask. I'm going to go meet with our—I mean, the florist.”
She couldn't have left the restaurant faster if her ass was on fire. Hightailing it into fifth gear, Madison was out the door and out of sight in seconds.
“Any more coffee?” the waitress asked him.
What he wanted to do was chase down Madison and ask her what the hell was the matter with her. He wasn't an amateur when it came to people giving him the cold shoulder. Something was up, and they might as well talk about it to get it out of the way.
He also knew if he pushed and prodded her, she'd shut down completely. Better to let some of the day go by, casually talk with her again later, and gauge her disposition.
But he'd find out what was going on, chilliness be damned.
After making his rounds to practically every single employee of Honeywilde, making sure they were all bolstered and buffered for the coming weekend, along with resolving a few issues and gripes, the day was half over.
After lunch, he found Madison, still talking with Brenda, and Dev standing a few steps away from them, arms flung wide in a gesture toward the stone fireplace.
“Are we discussing flowers or playing charades?”
“Hey, honey!” Brenda hugged him right away as Madison hung back.
“I'm trying to convince Madison and Brenda that something for the mantel might look nice. Evergreens or whatever would last the weekend. Liven it up a bit.” Dev lowered his arms and looked at him, an expression on his face like he was just waiting for Roark to shoot him down.
“I think you're right. Something up there besides the clock and candlesticks would look nice.”
A little crease appeared between Devlin's eyebrows as he blinked at him. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Seriously. It draws attention to the fireplace too.” He intentionally looked at Madison. “With our recently fixed and resealed hearth.”
Her gaze barely brushed his.
His brother shook his head, looking a little shell-shocked. “Okay.”
Brenda swatted at his arm. “We are going to have this place looking like a one-of-a-kind wonder. I can't wait to see it myself. I've got some flowers coming in that I have never used before. I'm so excited.”
No one got a thrill out of flowers like Brenda. He tried to catch Madison's gaze again, to smile about her enthusiasm, or make some kind of basic eye contact.
He got nothing. Madison kept her focus on the mantel, tapping her pen against her lips in thought. Her aloofness could be written off as her just being in work mode, but Roark knew that wasn't the whole reason.
“Evergreens, and let's use some chrysanthemums of the same colors as in the features, to tie it all together,” Madison said.
Brenda made a note in a little spiral notebook. “I have plenty. Not a problem.”
“Then I think we're all set.” Madison at least made eye contact with her, and got a hug in return.
“I will be here Thursday with some flowers for the arrivals, and then I will see y'all early Saturday with a van of flowers fit to marry off a princess.” Brenda hugged Roark goodbye and did the same to Devlin with an added, “Behave” tacked onto the end.
They stood and watched her as she walked away.
Dev was the first to break the silence. “Well, I'm glad you liked the mantel idea and . . .” He looked back and forth between them. “I'm going to go find Wright and Sophie. Catch you guys later.”
He all but ran away from them and the tense silence that hung in the air. Roark stared at Madison's profile. After a long moment, he cracked.
* * *
“That's it.” Roark was suddenly in front of her, like he'd popped up from the floor. “What is going on with you? You've been acting weird ever since we got back from . . .” He looked around to make sure the great room was still empty. “Skinny-dipping.”
She crossed her arms in front of her, but finally met his gaze. The tension showed in his eyes, and in the tight way he held himself. “How do you know I'm acting weird? You haven't known me long enough to know what weird looks like on me.”
“
This
is what weird looks like on you.” He moved one hand up and down as though presenting her to herself. “Normally you say exactly what's on your mind and today you've been sullen and quiet. There's obviously something wrong and I know it's not the sex.”
She stared back at him, and all of his confidence and fortitude visibly crumbled.
“Oh shit. It's not the sex, is it?” He stepped closer. “Because I'm pretty sure both of us—”
Madison shook her head. “No, it's not the sex.” She wasn't okay, but for him to think that the sex was anything less than phenomenal was just wrong. “The sex is great. Better than great.”
“Then what is it?”
She looked away, out the window, wishing the long, rolling silhouette of the Smoky Mountains could give her the right words. Even better if the mountains would help her understand what was wrong with her.
Approaching the fireplace, she let out the breath she'd been holding and sank down to sit on the newly refurbished hearth. “I don't know.”
Roark shook his head and sat down next her, looking determined yet so confused. “I'm trying to understand here, but you've got to give me something beyond
I don't know
.”
She did know that she never let anyone get close to her, and yesterday she'd done exactly that. Not only was she getting too attached to Roark's company, she enjoyed his family, this place, all of it.
Devlin was a wandering soul, wrapped in a wild package. Anyone from the outside looking in could see he did half of what he did just to get under Roark's skin, the other half he did to gain his approval. Sophie's personality matched her spitfire appearance. The redhead stereotype was tired, yet couldn't be any truer in her case.
Never a moment of boredom with the Bradley clan, but she was still able to work and find solitude without ever feeling solitary. The problem wasn't that she didn't understand why she was freaking out. The problem was she shouldn't be freaking out at all.
Normal people didn't have sleepless nights and mounting anxiety just because they'd found someone they liked, and happened to enjoy their family too.
“Maybe you're more nervous about the wedding than you can admit?” Roark suggested. “Even to yourself?”
She wished it were that simple. A few nerves flitted around her brain, but that was the rush of her job. She thrived on the excitement level. “Sure. That's probably it.”
He studied her before smoothing his hands down his thighs to settle on his knees. “Y'know, you lie about as well as you play a dumb blonde, but if you don't want to tell me what's wrong with you, just say that you don't want to talk to me. Don't be scared. I'm a big boy, I can take it.”
BOOK: A Moment of Bliss
13.12Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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