Don't Let Go

His lips curved. He gave her a quick kiss. "I'll assume it's an open-ended invitation, then. See you later, Megan."

  "Thank you again, Brady."

  He stepped out the back way and she closed the door.

  She let out a very satisfied sigh.

  All in all, a day that had started out terribly was ending on a really good note.

  Now all she had to do was finish up these cinnamon rolls, clean up the shop, then figure out what she was going to fix for dinner tonight.

  Because she had a hot date coming over.

  Chapter 21

  IT REALLY SUCKED that Brady was over an hour late. But he'd had a crisis. An epic damn crisis, and there was nothing he could do about it. Hopefully, the bottle of wine he'd stopped and bought might help to make up for being so late.

  He rang the doorbell and Megan answered right away, a concerned look on her face.

  "Is everything all right?" she asked as he walked inside with Roxie.

  "It is now. It wasn't earlier."

  "All you said in your text message was that you had a crisis and you'd be late. I was worried."

  He looked down at Roxie. "I took Roxie for a walk and as we were crossing the street, she dropped her chicken down the storm drain."

  "Oh. Oh, no. That is bad."

  "Tell me about it. She loves that damn chicken. When I tried to get her to move along, she parked her butt at the curb and refused to move, then tried to scramble into the sewer drain to go after her chicken. Then she whimpered when I scooped her up and carried her upstairs to the apartment."

  Megan cast a sympathetic look at Roxie, and swept her hand over the puppy's head. "Poor baby. I see she has a chicken now."

  "Yeah. I had to take a quick shower and drive to the pet store to buy her a new one."

  Megan's lips curved. "I assume you were smart about it and bought a backup?"

  "I bought four."

  She laughed. "Good call."

  He held up the bottle. "And a bottle of wine for you as an apology."

  Megan waved her hand and led him into the kitchen. "No apologies necessary. I totally understand the chicken emergency."

  He unhooked the leash from Roxie's harness. She dashed off to the living room rug with her new chicken and settled in.

  "Obviously she's a happy camper now," Megan said.

  "Yeah, well, she should be. And we're never going for a walk with the chicken again. She's going to have to learn to deal with a little separation."

  "Poor little thing."

  "Her? How about poor me?"

  She leaned up and wrapped her hand around the base of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. "Poor you. You've been in rescue mode all day today, haven't you? First me and my oven, and then Roxie and her chicken."

  "Just call me Superman."

  "I might just do that. We'll see what happens later."

  He gave her a look. "Oh, now the pressure's on."

  "I'm sure you can handle it." She grabbed two wineglasses out of the cabinet. "Glass of wine?"

  "Sure. I'll open the bottle."

  She pulled an opener from the drawer and handed it off to him. He opened the bottle and poured the wine into the glasses.

  "Something smells good in here."

  "Thanks. I'm making stuffed pork chops."

  "I love pork chops. With apple sauce?"

  She nodded. "And mashed potatoes and green beans."

  "I'm starving." He took a sip of wine. "Hey, this is pretty good."

  She took a sip as well. "It is good. And you're surprised?"

  "I don't know jack about wine. But the lady at the liquor store said it was a good brand."

  "It is a good brand. You did well. Let's go take a seat in the living room. When you texted I hadn't put the pork chops in yet, so I waited. They'll be a little while."

  "Okay."

  While they drank wine, he asked her how her oven was. She told him she'd made a batch of cookies just to be sure before she cleaned up for the day, and the oven was working perfectly now. And then she thanked him again for fixing it for her.

  "It really wasn't a big deal."

  "It was to me. Who knows if I'd have been able to get someone over to fix it for me? You saved my life today."

  "I'll let you pay me back later."

  She smiled at him over the rim of her wineglass. "I look forward to that."

  "Me, too."

  The timer rang, so she got up to take the pork chops out. He followed her.

  "Anything I can do?"

  She handed plates and utensils to him. "You can take these into the dining room."

  "Okay."

  He set the table, and Megan brought out the food. By now his stomach was grumbling, so he grabbed the wine bottle and brought that into the dining room, and they sat to eat.

  The pork chops were awesome, and so were the side dishes.

  "Is there anything you can't do?" he asked in between mouthfuls of food.

  She looked up at him. "I can't play piano. Or sing."

  He laughed. "Well, neither can I."

  "Then I guess we'll have to cross Christmas caroling or giving concerts off our list, won't we?"

  "Yup. But you sure as hell can cook."

  "Thank you. It's always been a stress reliever for me."

  "Sex is a good stress reliever."

  She coughed and put down her wineglass. "Yes, it is. But that's not always an available option. Cooking is."

  "It's available now."

  "True. But I enjoy cooking."

  He frowned. "Wait. So you don't enjoy sex?"

  She shook her head. "That's not at all what I meant. I meant that cooking is something I enjoy all the time and always have. Sex is obviously something I enjoy all the time as well, but I haven't always had a man in my life. Not that I need a man to enjoy sex--or at least an orgasm. Though it's way more fun to have a man give me an orgasm than to give myself one."

  She paused, then stared at him.

  "What?" he asked.

  "I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with you at the dinner table."

  "Would you rather discuss world events? Or sports? Because I have to tell you, I don't think I'd find them as stimulating as talking about sex with you. Especially if you want to describe in more detail how you give yourself orgasms."

  Her gaze was heated. "Maybe we'll delve more deeply into that over dessert."

  He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over hers. "How about that dessert right now?"

  "You haven't finished your pork chops."

  "Yeah, but you're talking about sex. And sex trumps pork chops any day of the week."

  "But I made an actual dessert."

  He refused to be deterred. "Again . . . sex."

  Her lips curved. "I don't know, Brady. I made cheesecake."

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then sighed. "Damn. I really like cheesecake."

  "I know you do."

  "Then again, I really like you naked, too. Tough call."

  She laughed, then picked up her wineglass and took a very long drink. He watched the way her lips clasped over the rim of the glass and his cock tightened.

  Okay, so maybe he was thinking ahead toward the after-dessert portion of the night. And maybe the teasing they'd been doing had gotten to him. And maybe he'd missed her this past week.

  Damn busy jobs.

  "Fine," he said. "Pork chops. Then dessert. Then . . . dessert."

  Her lips curved. "Have I mentioned I really like the way you say dessert?"

  He was watching her mouth when she smiled. He really liked her mouth. "No. But I'll make sure to say the word more often if it turns you on."

  "Pretty much everything about you turns me on, Brady."

  "Keep talking to me that way and I'll never finish my pork chops."

  She just gave him a devilish smile, then turned her attention to her food.

  So he did the same. They finished their dinner, and he followed her into the kitchen to help with cleanup.


  "I'll load these," he said, scraping food off the dishes while she ran water into the sink.

  And who knew sliding their hands into soapy water together could be so sexy? They ended up touching fingers in the water, bumping hips at the counter as they dried pots and pans, and stopping to kiss every now and then.

  He'd never thought of washing dishes as foreplay. Then again, he'd never done dishes with Megan before.

  She put a pan into the sink and added soap. Since he'd filled the dishwasher with the dishes and utensils, he came up behind her and slid his hands down her arms and into the water.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "I'm helping." He tangled his fingers with hers, grabbing the pot scrubber.

  "Hmm. Can't say I've ever scrubbed a pan this way."

  "Me neither." He washed the pan, her fingers teasing over his the entire time.

  The pan forgotten, she turned to face him, her hands covered with bubbly soap. She ran her fingers up his arms.

  "Slippery," she said.

  "Hard."

  She cocked her head to the side. "Hard?"

  "You. Touching me. Makes me hard."

  "Then we definitely need to do more of it." She reached behind her and grabbed a handful of suds, smoothing her hands along his forearms and up his biceps.

  In turn, he grabbed her butt and drew her against his erection. There was something about the feel of her, the hot steam rising from the water behind them, that felt tropical and heated and, damn, he was getting worked up. "You're getting me all wet."

  She raked her nails down his wet arms. "The feeling is mutual. Now how about that dessert I mentioned earlier?"

  His gaze was direct. "Which one?"

  "The one that doesn't have anything to do with food."

  She wound her hand around his neck and pulled him toward her. His lips met hers in a fiery kiss filled with passion and need.

  He backed her up against the sink, letting her feel the need he'd been holding in all day. She moaned against his mouth, and all he could think of right now was getting her naked and sinking inside of her.

  But apparently Megan had other ideas. She broke the kiss and gave him a wicked smile, then slithered down his body.

  "What are you doing, Megan?"

  She tilted her head back and looked up at him. "Dessert."

  "That's not cheesecake."

  Her lips tilted. "Cheesecake will have to wait."

  His heart rate ratcheted somewhere in the upper stratosphere as she undid the button on his jeans and drew the zipper down, then tugged his jeans over his hips, along with his boxer briefs.

  When she put her warm, still wet hands on him, he shuddered.

  "That feels damn good."

  And then he went into total meltdown when she put her mouth over his cock. He stood still as stone to watch--and feel--as she flicked her tongue over the head, then drew his shaft into the warm, wet recesses of her mouth.

  It was like dying, in the best way possible. There was nothing like being blown apart by a sexy woman on her knees. She had all the power, and he'd gladly give her anything she wanted if she'd only keep performing that magic with her lips and tongue that was slowly consuming every working brain cell he had.

  He was going to lose it, and he wanted to do that inside of her. It had been all he'd thought about for days--and nights. He reached for her, pulling her to stand, at the same time kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his jeans and briefs.

  "I wasn't finished," she said, giving him a wicked smile. "And neither were you."

  "I've got a better idea." He pulled off his shirt and cast it aside.

  She swept her finger across his bottom lip. "I'm not sure what could be considered a better idea than giving you an orgasm."

  "Point taken, but work with me here." Now it was his turn to kneel in front of her. He tugged at her capris.

  "Okay, I'm not one to complain about the direction you're headed," she said, "but shouldn't we finish you off first?"

  He tilted his head up to smile at her. "We'll get there. Hang on to the counter while I get your sandals off."

  She held on to the counter and he slipped off her shoes, then her pants and underwear.

  He stood, and pulled her against him and kissed her, breathing in the taste and scent that was uniquely Megan. Something about her always drew him in, made him want and need her in ways that he couldn't explain. All he knew was whenever he was around her, he wanted her. He wanted to touch her and taste her and get lost inside of her.

  He'd never wanted to be this close to a woman before, never had those kinds of cravings and needs with one woman. That set off alarm bells, but right now he was running his tongue along her throat and inching his fingers under her T-shirt to tease her breasts through her bra, so he ignored the warning bells. This was way too much fun to be worried about emotion and entanglement. He'd think about all that serious shit later.

  He lifted her top and tossed it somewhere across the room, then undid her bra so he could put his mouth on her nipples.

  "Even here you taste sweet," he murmured, capturing a nipple between his lips.

  He was rewarded with something that sounded like a sigh and whimper, which made his cock go even harder. He popped the nipple out of his mouth and went to work on the other, teasing and flicking his tongue around the soft bud until Megan's moans got louder. Then he drifted south, kneeling down to spread her legs and put his mouth on her sweet sex.

  "Brady."

  His name escaped her lips like a tortured whisper, and he had to admit he really liked the way she said it. He wanted to give her an epic orgasm, the kind that would make her scream his name instead of whisper it out.

  He moved his tongue and lips over her, trying to find the right spot that would give her what she needed. When she moaned and thrust against him, he gave her more. And when she cried out, he held on to her hips and let her ride it out until she grew lax against him.

  He stood and she tangled her fingers in his hair, drawing him down for a passionate kiss that fired him up hotter and faster than a supercharged Harley. He turned her around and grabbed the condom he'd shoved in the pocket of his discarded jeans. He kicked her legs apart and slid into her, her sex still quaking from her orgasm.

  He leaned over and kissed the back of her neck. "I've been thinking about being inside of you every damn night. It keeps me awake at night. Hot, sweating, and hard all damn night long."

  "Yes," she said. "I've wanted you, too. Every night."

  He reached for her hands, twining his fingers with hers. He plunged them into the dishwater in the sink, the two of them tangled together as he drove into her with hard, fast thrusts, spurred on by the sounds she made as he moved against her.

  "I can't stop thinking about you." He shifted, easing out, only to slide back in and still.

  "Brady."

  "Yeah."

  "Move."

  His lips lifted. "Where to?"

  She squeezed his fingers. "You know where to."

  He removed one hand and slipped it across her sex, finding her clit. "Here?"

  She laid her head against his chest. "Oh, yes. Definitely there."

  He moved then, using his slippery wet hand along with his cock to take her right to the edge. And when she tightened around him, he went faster, giving her the friction she needed to come.

  And then he went with her, unable to hold back as she cried out with her orgasm, rocking back against him as she lost control.

  It was the best damn orgasm he'd ever had. Hell, he felt light-headed.

  He withdrew and they went into her bathroom to clean up.

  She leaned against the bathroom counter. "You know, I'm never going to be able to stand at my sink and do the dishes ever again without thinking of sex."

  He laughed. "That's not a bad thing, is it?"

  "No. Not a bad thing at all."

  He pulled her against him. "As long as it's me you're thinking about having sex with, I'd
say it's a very good thing."

  She hooked her leg around his hip. "Oh, trust me, it's all you."

  That's all he needed to hear. He kissed her, intending for a light, easy, after-sex kiss. But it turned more passionate, and suddenly they were on the bed getting hot and tangled together all over again.

  It was an hour later before they had cheesecake.

  Chapter 22

  IF THERE WAS one thing Megan knew about Chelsea, it was that she loved being the center of attention. So when they held her wedding shower that Saturday afternoon at the McCormack ranch, Chelsea ate it all up.

  She didn't even seem to mind that the wedding prep was being handled with such a rush. In fact, she seemed happy about it.

  As she sat and drank juice in the dining room with the girls, she seemed more relaxed than Megan had seen her in a while. Megan had actually expected Chelsea to be panicked--and have one of her typical lists. But that wasn't the case. She almost seemed serene, which was definitely not the usual Chelsea.

  "I've turned over a new leaf," Chelsea said as they sat with Emma, Jane, Des, Sam, and Molly. "Now that I'm pregnant and we've decided to get the wedding over with, I'm actually kind of . . . relieved. Is that bad?"

  Emma laughed. "It's not bad at all. Wedding planning can be stressful. Getting the wedding out of the way means you can enjoy planning for the baby."

  Chelsea nodded. "It probably helps that Bash didn't mind at all that we weren't going to have a huge blowout of a wedding. Just immediate family and friends, and then it's on to normal life." When everyone looked at her, she added, "Okay, fine, as normal as Bash and I get, anyway. Plus we were lucky to find an available church and a venue for the reception on such short notice."

  "Don't forget to tell them about the dress," Jane said.

  "Oh, that's right. I found a dress."

  Sam's eyes widened. "You did?"

  "I did. Also, it fits me perfectly. I'm not showing yet, so I don't have the baby belly issue to worry about. Jane went with me to the store since she's my matron of honor, and we found a dress for her as well."

  Jane beamed a smile. "It's like fate has smiled down on you. Everything is as it should be. And in a week, you'll have your wedding and you can settle in and wait for your awesome baby to arrive."

  "This is true."

  "You've been to the doctor?" Des asked.

  Chelsea nodded. "Got the pregnancy confirmed by the OB, all official-like. He gave me an exam and told me I was ridiculously healthy and everything should be fine. "

  "When are you due?" Emma asked.

  Chelsea gave them all a serene smile. "Mid-December."