He ignored her, having decided they were playing by his rules tonight, and dipped his tongue into her belly button. She shivered, her fingernails digging into his wrists. He moved lower, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nips, and was rewarded by her soft, keening whimpers.
He tucked his hands holding hers under her hips, lifting her into a most intimate kiss. She shuddered violently, her whimpers turning to cries of pleasure. Her legs pushed into his shoulders, every muscle in her body coiling. Sam continued his sweet torture until he felt her quivering on the edge of orgasm, then rose to his knees. He lifted her hips onto his thighs and, placing his thumb where his mouth had just been, slowly entered her-all the time watching her in the dancing firelight. He was barely inside her when she started convulsing around him, her hands covering her mouth to stifle her screams. Sam took hold of her wrists and pulled them away, setting them by her head as he braced himself to thrust into her deeply.
"Let me hear you come, baby," he growled, retreating slightly, then thrusting again. "Don't hold anything back."
He'd always been a visual man, and watching Willa explode with pleasure-her skin covered with dew, her eyes locked on his as she shouted his name and screamed-sent him plummeting out of control. His own release came with the suddenness of lightning, shooting through him in bolts of searing white heat. He stilled deep inside her, letting her lingering spasms finish the job. Their gazes met and held for several heartbeats before she looked away, and Sam saw her eyes fill with emotion so raw it appeared painful.
He sighed, lying down on the floor beside her. She immediately turned to him, burying her face in his chest. He kissed her hair. "There. That's out of the way." He smiled when she stiffened.
"Excuse me?"
He scooped her up in his arms, stood, and headed for the bedroom. "Now that we've taken the edge off, we can really get down to business."
Chapter Nineteen
Willa lay in bedwith her eyes closed, moving only the muscles needed to smile. Who knew there was a captain lurking inside Sam Sinclair's beautiful, sexy, inexhaustible body? By the third time he'd made love to her, she'd been ready to promote him to admiral. And by the fifth? Astronaut material. His ego was probably so puffed up now, it was a wonder he had fit through the door when he'd snuck off in the wee hours of the morning.
Willa listened to the wind howling outside, heralding the arrival of a Canadian cold front. She bet if she opened her eyes, she'd see her breath, the cottage felt so cold. It also felt so empty she wanted to weep.
Did she have the brains of a lobster or what? No, even lobsters had an innate sense of survival. She, on the other hand, had crawled into bed with Sam almost three weeks ago, blithely risking her heart just to shut up her hormones. And last night, right there on the floor in front of the fire, she'd felt her safe little world explode into pieces as fate finally caught up with her. She loved Sam.
She didn't want to, but there it was, in all its stark, frightening truth. What had Sam been trying to tell her
last night? That life happens whether we want it to or not and that sometimes fate is simply beyond our control?
She had been controlling this particular aspect of it for years, so what in hell had gone wrong? She knew she couldn't really blame her hormones; the poor things had just been doing their job. Abram, then. This was all his fault. That stupid, insane, outrageous bequest had started her dreaming of no longer coming home to an empty house and of someday even waking up to the patter of tiny feet. Boy, oh, boy, had she taken the bait.
Willa pulled the pillow from under her head and pressed it over her face. It was pitiful to realize she wasn't even as smart as a lobster. Lobsters were love-them-and-leave-them creatures. They never had to sit home and worry that something might happen to a loved one or fret over someone else's happiness. Willa dropped the pillow to her belly with a heavy sigh and blinked up at the ceiling. "What am I supposed to do now?" she asked the universe. "Marry Sam and let everyone win?" She snorted. "Except I'm not going to fulfill the baby part of Abram's bequest, which means Warren Cobb will still get Tidewater, and Sam will be stuck with a wife who was shoved down his throat."
Did she believe he loved her?
"I think he wants to love me. And he might even believe he does. Who knows how the man's mind works?"
"Who are you talking to?" Jennifer asked, walking into the bedroom. Willa yelped and pulled the blankets up to her chin. "Ohmygod, Jen, you startled me!"
"Sorry, Auntie," she said, her smile contradicting her apology. Her eyes widened. "Are you naked again? Cool. I think I'll start doing that. I bet it feels wonderful, not getting all twisted up in a nightgown ten times a night."
"What are you doing down here so early?"
"I've come to drive you to Emmett's. He said you planned to work with him on the RoseWind today. But we have to stop at the store on the way, so I can pick up a few things."
"Have your mom take you. I don't know how long I'm staying at Emmett's, and you have to get ready for the dance. Besides, I thought you weren't speaking to me."
"I wasn't, until I saw Sam's new truck parked beside yours most of the night." She dropped the clothes she was holding onto the bed with a smirk. "Here. I found these scattered on the floor in front of the woodstove."
"Brat," Willa muttered when the girl turned and sauntered into the kitchen. "Did Peg send down any food with you?" she asked, sprinting to the closet to find some grubby work clothes to wear.
"Yup. Bacon and eggs and homemade toast," Jen called back, her words a bit muffled. "Because, lucky for you, she also saw Sam's truck in your driveway last night."
"Are you eating my breakfast again?"
"Just a few bites. The homecoming dance is open to adults. Why don't you and Sam come tonight, too?
Mom's going with Dad."
Willa rushed to the bedroom door, pulling a paint-stained sweatshirt over her head. "Shel's going with Richard ?"
Jen nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Cody thinks it's beyond weird, but I think coming home to an empty house really scared Dad. And I think Mom only agreed to go to the dance with him for Cody's and my sake. You know, so their divorce can be amicable, so we won't feel torn in our loyalties? Dad's ashamed of what happened inNew York , and he told Mom he was sorry and that he intends to apologize to you the first chance he gets."
"You know about that?" Willa squeaked.
Jen looked up, her fork halfway to her mouth, and rolled her eyes. "It's a teenager's job to eavesdrop, Auntie. How else are we going to find out what's going on? So, will you and Sam come to the dance? I can't wait for you to see my new dress. Ben came shopping with us and helped Mom and me pick it out." She canted her head at Willa. "I'm glad Sam's the grandson who fell in love with you. Ben and Jesse are really nice, but Sam fits you better."
Willa stood in the doorway, gaping at her niece.
Jen set down her fork and folded her hands on her lap, her expression suddenly serious. "Will you please give Sam a chance, Aunt Willa?" she pleaded. "If not for yourself, then for me?"
"What has my marrying Sam got to do with you?"
Jennifer looked down at the plate in front of her. "It's really important to me that you stop blaming yourself for the accident," she said, so softly that Willa had to strain to hear her. Jen looked up, her eyes welling with moisture, her little chin raised defensively. "I feel guilty for wanting to get on with my life when you can't seem to get on with yours. I want to solo-sail a Sengatti around the world when I graduate, but I can't even dream about doing it, knowing you'd be back here being miserable."
"Oh, Jennifer," Willa cried, rushing to the table. She got down on her knees and hugged her. "I'm not miserable. And that's not fair, Jen. You can't use me as an excuse not to go after your dreams."