Author: Tara Sue Me

Anything seemed possible.

Chapter Fourteen

—NATHANIEL—

After the ceremony, the wedding guests stood around, drinking cocktails and eating hors d’oeuvres while Todd and Elaina’s backyard was changed into a reception hall. In no time, I took Abby in my arms for our dance together as best man and maid of honor.

“Happy sigh?” she asked, pulling back slightly as a familiar piano melody started to play.

“Happy sigh,” I said. “Jackson and Felicia are married. I met your dad and got along with him—”

“Was there any doubt?”

“I always factor in doubt. It’s part of my business mentality.”

“This isn’t business.”

I tightened my arms. “I know. But it’s a part of who I am. Besides, you didn’t let me finish.”

“Finish what?” she asked, settling back into my embrace.

I traced a hand across her shoulders and down her back. “Explaining my happy sigh.”

“Of course. Continue.”

“Where was I?” I said. “Oh, yes, I remember. My cousin has just married. I have a new cousin-in-law. The most amazing woman in the world is dancing with me, and the best news is, she’s going home with me tonight.”

“That’s the best news?”

I swirled us around and caught sight of Melanie talking with Linda. I had almost been rude to her earlier. Thankfully, Abby had been around to temper my attitude. And, truth be told, having Melanie catch me in a passionate embrace with Abby hadn’t been that bad. If there had been any doubt I was off-limits, the point had been made now.

“Yes,” I said, answering her question. “It’s been far too long since I’ve had you in my bed.”

“Nathaniel.”

“Admit it. You feel it, too.”

Her hand dipped down so it rested below my waist. Low enough to prove her point, but not quite low enough to be considered inappropriate. “Of course I feel it,” she said.

“I’m looking forward to having you in my arms as I sleep tonight,” I said, tightening my arms around her.

“Sleep? Is that all?”

“No, but if I talk about it too much, I may drag you up to a spare bedroom or haul you into a closet.”

“And that would be bad because . . . ?” she teased, pushing her h*ps against me.

I bent my head and gave her earlobe a sharp bite, right where she liked it. “Because I’m going to take my time once I get you home.”

Her breathing was short and ragged. “I thought you agreed to hard and fast first?”

I ground my h*ps against hers, hoping the movement was inconspicuous to any onlooking wedding guests. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind?” she asked, and I realized we weren’t dancing so much anymore, just swaying side to side as the music played.

I moved us forward into more of a dancing motion. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to thoroughly enjoy taking my time with you.”

“Hmph,” she said, but didn’t argue.

I hid my smile in her hair. She was so f**king cute when she was flustered.

The ride home was a torture of sorts. I kept my hand in Abby’s, and she passed time by drawing tiny figure eights on it. We spoke of the wedding details, laughing over a few slips, discussing various wedding guests and agreeing how nice it was the paparazzi were nowhere in sight for the entire event. It was an altogether simple conversation, especially considering how tightly strung we both were. How each sweep of her finger on my hand seemed to reach directly to my groin.

“I have to take Apollo out,” I said when I pulled into the drive. I loved Apollo, really, but at times, I wished he were potty-trained.

“I’ll wait upstairs,” she said.

“Foyer, please.”

One of her eyebrows rode in the pale silvery light of the house. “Okay.”

I kissed her cheek as I helped her out of the car. “Thank you.”

After I took Apollo outside and we made it back into the house, I locked the door behind me. She waited for me, rocking slightly on her heels.

“Is there a reason you wanted me to wait for you here?” she asked, eyes full of mischief.

I shrugged out of my jacket and dropped it on the floor. “Do you remember the time I had you spend the entire weekend naked?”

“Vaguely,” she teased.

I nodded to the stairs. “And I took you there, on the third step?”

“You remember the step?”

I made it to her and I placed a hand on each of her shoulders. “I remember everything. I remember looking at you, here in the foyer as you waited for me, and realizing even then that you belonged here. With me.”

“That weekend?” Her breath swept warm against my neck.

“Yes. I knew without a doubt, that weekend.”

“I never knew.”

“I know.”

I tipped her head so our eyes met.

“ ‘There is a Lady sweet and kind,

Was never a face so pleased my mind;

I did but see her passing by.’ ”

I gently undid her hair and dropped the pins to the floor. They echoed as they hit the marble.

“ ‘And yet I love her till I die.’ ”

She gave a short intake of breath at my recitation of one of her favorite poems, and I smiled at her response. Traced the outline of her lips.

“ ‘Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,

Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,

Beguiles my heart, I know not why,

And yet I love her till I die.’ ”

“Nathaniel,” she murmured softly.

I reached behind her and tugged the zipper of her dress down as far as I could. Then I pushed the soft material from her one shoulder.

“ ‘Cupid is wingèd and doth range,

Her country so my love doth change.’ ”

Her eyes closed and her lips parted. I trailed a line of kisses down her neck.

“ ‘But change she earth, or change she sky,

Yet will I love her till I die.’ ”

I slipped the dress down her body, allowing my hands the freedom to run over her form. Everything felt free now. I was free. Free to love her the way she deserved. Free to accept the love she gave me. Everything felt so . . . possible.

“I love you, Nathaniel,” she whispered.

I stilled at her words. It was the first time she’d ever told me she loved me first. How was it possible that four short words made my heart constrict the way they did?

Blood surged through my body in response to her whisper, and I played them over and over in my head.

“God, Abby, I love you,” I whispered back. As urgent as our need had felt hours earlier, the urgency had left, leaving in its wake the desire to reconnect.

Her fingers undid the buttons on my shirt. Slowly. She took her time as well, slipping her hands under the fabric, ghosting her thumbs along my nipples. I leaned down and kissed her again. And for a time we stood there, touching and teasing as we undressed each other. Our simple whispers echoed softly in the moonlit room.

“Mmm.”

“Yes.”

“There?”

“Again.”

“More.”

“Now.”

“Please.”

Until, finally, we agreed together.

“Upstairs.”

We slept in the next day, woke wrapped up in each other, slowly becoming conscious of our bodies as we stirred. Our touches became more and more urgent, moving quickly from caresses to teasing strokes until we both panted with need.

She rolled me to my back, taking my head in her hands and kissing me deeply.

I moaned into her mouth.

She climbed on top, placing a knee on either side of my hips. She’d never brushed her hair the night before, and it fell in wild, sleep-tousled tangles to her shoulders. Without a word, she rose up and then lowered herself onto me. I lifted up to her, forcing myself deeper inside.

She rolled her hips, and I brought my hands to rest right below the dip of her waist. Not to guide, not to control, simply to feel her muscles work under my hands. To enjoy the way she pleasured herself on my body. To enjoy her.

Her head fell back as she rode me, and her br**sts thrust outward. I ran my hands up her torso and cupped each breast, pinching her nipples. She increased her rhythm in response.

She was beautiful in her pleasure—from the faint pink hue covering her body to the soft lustful groans she made as she approached her orgasm. Watching her, my own lust grew, and I slipped my hands down, grasped her h*ps hard, met her thrusts and matched them with my own. Over and over our bodies came together until her jaw dropped and she cl**axed with a short shout.

I held her still and drove myself into her faster and harder, feeling my own release approach. She whimpered, and I rubbed my thumb over her clit. Seconds later, I was rewarded by the feel of her contracting around me a second time. With a grunt and a thrust, my own cl**ax shot through me and I released into her.

She collapsed on top of me.

Several minutes passed before we could speak.

“Good morning,” she said finally, not lifting her head from where it rested on my chest.

“I’ll say,” I said. “What was that about?”

She laughed. “Payback for the Thomas Ford you quoted last night.”

“I thought you paid me back for that once we made it up the stairs,” I said, remembering the hours we’d spent the night before.

“Oh no. The Thomas Ford quoting definitely required additional payback.”

“In that case,” I said, running a free hand down her back and feeling her shiver under my touch. “I certainly hope I have a volume of his work in the library.”

Later in the afternoon, I returned to the house after taking Apollo out for a quick break. When I left, Abby had been in the living room. It caught me off guard to find her waiting for me in the foyer.

“Everything okay?” I asked as Apollo rushed past her to collapse on his pillow in the living room.

She didn’t say anything. Instead she walked and stood before me.

“Abby?”

She dropped to her knees. Her hands came up to the buttons on my blue jeans and she started to undo them.

Ah, yes. The insatiable vixen didn’t have enough of me last night or this morning. I felt the exact same way. However, I didn’t want her on her knees.

I stilled her hands. “Let’s continue this upstairs. Or in the kitchen. Maybe with me on the countertop this time?” My c**k hardened at the path the conversation seemed headed.

“No.”

No?

Come again?

No, she didn’t want to go upstairs? Or no, she didn’t want me in the kitchen?

“What?” I asked.

“No.”

She was trying to tell me something. I just couldn’t decide what.

“Abby,” I said, squeezing her hands slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“No,” she said, and then she added softly, “Master.”

My jaw dropped, and I hastily closed it.

She sighed and dropped to the floor, sitting in a heap at my feet. “Seeing Paul and Christine last weekend was such an eye-opening experience, and I want so badly to go back into the playroom with you. Then it occurred to me, with the wedding and everything.” She looked up. “I don’t want you to think I haven’t enjoyed the downtime. I have. It’s just”—she shrugged—“another week?”

I thought about what she said. Yes, the weekend off had been necessary with our responsibilities the day before, and yes, sleeping in had been pleasant, but there was still that need. Shoved aside and ignored, but still there. Tugging at me. Obviously tugging at her as well.

“And you thought this was the best way to go about getting in there again?” I asked.

Her lips curved upward. “It seemed to be the most direct approach.”