Susan Andersen - Coming Undone

She cleared her throat. "Well, I was primed to believe Mama, is all, when she insisted a rich boy like you wouldn't want anything to do with trailer trash like me. But Imissed you, Jared. God, I missed you so much and-"

He hauled her in, wrapping her up in his arms and pressing her head to his chest. "I love you, Peej. Don't send me away. I don't think I could stand it."

"I:You:What?" Like a tender frond of a fern, the hope she'd refused to believe she harbored began unfurling in her heart. Yet she did nothing to break the light grasp of his fingers in her hair, because what if she was somehow hallucinating? He'd been her high mark, the standard she'd judged all men against, for nearly half her life. And if she was merely hearing things, she'd just as soon not know.

"I love you. I think maybe a part of me always has." Jared pressed his lips against her warm hair at the crown of her head and gathered encouragement from the fact that she didn't pull away from him. She was actually leaning into him, her arms sliding around his waist to hold him tightly in return. He couldn't remember another time when he'd felt this right. When he'd felt this:whole.

Because he knew her. And Priscilla Jayne Morgan had a generous heart. She wouldn't turn him away, even if it was what he deserved for being such a self-protective ass.

He stroked his hand down her newly shortened hair. "When you disappeared from my life, you took an important part of me with you," he admitted hoarsely. Using his thumb on the point of her chin to tip her face up, he bent his head and kissed her brow. "I lost the part that knew how to give myself to a relationship-and I feel like I'm just now getting it back."

A sudden thought occurred to him and he grinned down at her. "I don't have to be a goddamn glacier peak any more." Like it had worked worth a damn around her anyhow.

"Huh?"

"Never mind, it's not important. Tell me that you love me."

"I love you, J."

"I love you more. That's what I should have said the last time you told me. I love you more." He kissed her lips softly, sweetly, and opened the door at her back. Easing them into the room, he kicked the door shut behind them, then turned until her back was pressed against the wood portal.

Worshipping her with his lips, he took the kiss deeper and deeper as he slid her clothes from her body. Then, lifting her against the door, he bent his head to string kisses from her throat to her collarbone to her breast. He'd barely gotten started, however, when she caught a fistful of his hair and tugged.

"I want to feel you inside me," she said. "Now."

He was so lost in her that it didn't even occur to him to fall back on his old habits. Setting her back on her feet, he handed her his wallet with a murmured, "condom," then pulled off his shirt, toed off his shoes and kicked free of his pants while she fished it out. This wasn't about getting her off a number of times before he allowed himself to cut loose. It wasn't about control.

This was about making love to Peej.

Clad only in socks, he picked her up, crossed the room in a few huge strides and bounced her onto the mattress of the daybed in the corner. After dancing on one foot while yanking the sock from his other then repeating the process, he dropped down over her, catching himself on his palms.

For a second he simply stared at her flushed skin. She was still a little beat up, but the look in her eyes made his knees go weak.

"God, I love you," he said. Then, fitting himself between her thighs, he eased on home.

He meant to love her slow and tender. And he started out doing exactly that. But she was so hot and slick, and she clung to him like a treed cat and whispered hot promises of a future he wanted so bad he could taste it. And he began to thrust more emphatically, to twist against her at the apex of each lunge like a tomcat stropping against the first person to ever offer a friendly hand.

Then before he knew it, he was starting to plead.

"Please, Peej. Come on, baby, you gotta-oh, God,I've gotta-" His hips began to pick up speed, to slap into her faster and harder, and there didn't seem to be a damn thing he could do to stop it. "Sweetheart, you gotta come now. I'm begging you, I don't know how much longer I can hold on. Please, baby, please, baby, I love you soooo-!" Slamming his hips forward one last time, he held himself deep inside of her as the world went up in flames. Red-hot sensation and screaming pleasure colored his universe as he blasted over its edge.

Then miracle of miracles, despite the fact he had the attention span of a gnat while his brains pumped into the reservoir tip of his condom, that slim fraction of his awareness not focused firmly on himself heard P.J. cry out, and he felt her hips rise and her body start clamping down around him. He had just enough resources left to see her through her orgasm and to say, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Jesus." Then he collapsed on her like a horse that'd had its legs shot out from under it.

A while later he raised his head out of the curve of her neck and shoulder, lifted his chest enough to allow her to breathe and gazed down at her. "Sorry," he muttered. "It was touch and go there for a minute whether I was going to leave you high and dry."

"I know." She gave him a big, dazzling smile. "That was our best lovin' ever."

"'Scuse me? I forgot damn near everything I ever knew about taking care of a woman's needs, and you're telling me youliked it? Say you're kidding."

"I've told you before that I don't require multiple orgasms before you finally let go of the reins."

"And I get that, I honestly do. Butone would probably be nice."

Reaching up, she gently brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen over his eye. "For the first time I really felt you were here with me one hundred percent."

"Yeah." And it had been better than anything he'd ever known. "Yeah, I suppose that's true." He grinned at her. "And damn, it was good, too. So I hope you're ready to take responsibility for your own orgasms, honey, because from here on out it's all about me."

She laughed. Then she gave him a poke. "You are so full of it. Not to mention threatening the wrong girl. I could play you smoother than Hank plays the fiddle if I had a mind to."

He made a rude noise.

"I could. I could make you spend your every waking minute concentrating on nothing but my pleasure."

"You wish."

"I'm telling you, piece o' cake. I'd just say, 'Mylast lover made sure I had five, six orgasms before he got his-and you can't even give me one?' The next thing you know, you'd be working like a Trojan to make me happy."

He laughed in her face. "I'd get myself off, roll over and go to sleep."

"You forget, I know you. You'd morph into Mr. Competitive just:like:that!" She snapped her fingers.

"Not anymore. Now I'd just say, 'That loser? I know guys like that. They're all style and no substance. And I want to be substance for you.'" His playfulness disappeared. "Did you mean it when you said you want to be with me for the rest of your life? Or was that only heat-of-the-moment, he's-not-getting-the-job-done but-maybe-if-I-tell-him-something-he-really-wants-to-hear-he'll-be-motivated type sex talk?"

"Oh, I meant every word. Although I don't know how we're going to work out the logistics exactly. I mean, I can always sell the house in Aspen since your work's in Denver. But I'm going to be on the road a lot and you do have a job and-"

He kissed her into silence. When he lifted his head a few moments later, he said, "You're not planning on touring three hundred and sixty-five days a year, are you?"

"No, of course not. But some tours can last two, three, even four months."

"Well, my assignments rarely last longer than a week or two and I can always take time out between jobs to join you on the road. We'll work it out, Peej. The important thing is that I love you and you love me and we want to be together, to be a family." He kissed her longer this time and smiled at the dazed pleasure on her face when he finally came up for air.

"And when two people love the hell out of each other the way you and I do?" he said. "Baby, the rest is just details."

Six months later

P.J. WAS LATE TO HER OWN bridal shower. John and Victoria's early-nineteenth-century brick home was ablaze with warm, golden light by the time she and Jared pulled into the driveway. Her plane had been delayed nearly forty minutes, her baggage had taken its own sweet time getting to the carousel and just when she'd finally been reunited with Jared and thought nothing more could go wrong, they'd gotten caught in a big backup on I-70.

While Jared hung her coat in the foyer closet moments later, she straightened her gold wool dress, smoothed her hair and practiced some basic breathing exercises to calm her nerves. It was silly to feel anxious, but all the same:

"You're going to knock them dead," Jared murmured as he rejoined her. He bent to give her a reassuring kiss. Then, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, he steered her toward his sister's living room. "Sounds like they started without us."

The noise of a successful party-clinking glassware, hearty laughter, rapidly-escalating-in-volume conversation-rolled out of the archway like a friendly greeting, and her tension eased. Jared's family had made it clear she was family now, too, so she had no real reason for feeling so nervy. It was likely just the accumulated stress of running late all day.