The Bareknuckle Groom - Holly Bush Page 0,66
him again after tonight, or God forbid, she was with child, or if he died in that boxing ring, but she would never regret it and had realized as much in a blinding moment of clarity when he’d turned to leave her—this may be the only time in her life she would be able to make love to someone because she had been fooling herself to think she didn’t love him desperately. She did. No rational thought or wisdom lessened love and the heartache that sometimes came with it. Hearts made decisions without the benefit of the mind.
He spread her thighs with his knees, their eyes locked on each other. He moved himself to her entrance, teasing her with light strokes and moving his tongue in her mouth in rhythm as she sucked on it. She pulled her knees up his legs, feeling the coarse, dark hair there, and tilted her hips in invitation. They were both breathing heavily, his chest chafing at her breasts when he finally pushed himself inside, completely inside, and began to slowly thrust into her. She groaned and clawed at his back, grinding her hips to his. She was bucking wildly then, without any of her usual reticence. She was lost in the sensuality and the sexuality and the oneness. They were intimately connected, and it was the most wondrous, exciting thing she’d ever experienced.
“Harder, James, oh God, harder,” she cried.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I danced with you that first night,” he panted in her ear, his breath warm and moist. “God. I wanted to fuck you so bad. Oh. God.”
That word, that dirty word, sent her over the edge, tumbling into nothingness, and she relaxed and opened, her legs and arms splayed against the mattress, the bed rocked and groaned with his weight and movement until he tensed and arched, and she felt a flood of warmth inside her. He dropped onto her, his weight hot and sensuous.
He looked at her and opened his mouth to speak. She covered his lips with her finger. “Don’t say anything, James. Don’t say anything at all.”
She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted and overwhelmed. When she awoke, he was gone.
“Ninety-nine. One hundred,” MacAvoy shouted.
James flopped down onto his belly, his arms shaking, waiting for MacAvoy to lift the sand-filled bag from his back. He pulled in deep breaths, listening to the beat of his heart and feeling it slow down its pounding rhythm.
“That’s it for today,” MacAvoy said. “This is the last of the long workouts. I’m at the mill tomorrow, but you should only spend a few hours in the gym. Nothing in the ring, just work the hanging bags. And Friday will be stretching out those muscles and some sprints. You’re ready for Saturday, James.”
James stood and looked at MacAvoy. “I didn’t realize I’d let myself get out of shape. I’m not breathless any longer after your trainings. I am ready for Saturday. Any word about Jackson?”
“Just that he’d gone back to New York to train. I would think he’d be coming back here soon. Maybe today.”
James dried his face with the towel MacAvoy handed him and looked up at his friend. “When are you going to tell me about the honeymoon?”
MacAvoy’s cheeks reddened as he smiled. “It was wonderful. Like something out of a dream. The hotel was fancy, and they treated us like we were really somebody. We took walks around the town—Eleanor likes to shop—and went to a musicale and had all of our meals prepared for us. I’ll never forget it. Not a minute of it.”
“Any minutes particularly memorable?”
MacAvoy shrugged and looked away, his ears reddening to match his cheeks. “It wasn’t just, you know, fucking, if that’s what you’re asking about. It was more than that. Something special.” He looked at James and cleared his throat. “I’m hoping I started a child in her, James. You and I were mostly concerned with stopping that from happening when we were young and bedding every female who’d let us. I don’t feel that with Eleanor. I didn’t once, you know, pull out, or wear a skin or anything.”
“Is there any chance you succeeded?”
“Well, I gave it my best on plenty of occasions.”
James laughed at his smiling friend, who was clearly pleased with himself and his new bride, watching him leave the gym with a swagger he’d not seen before in MacAvoy. That was what it was like to bed a woman, one you desired, desperately, as often as the both of