Page 82 of Quinn, By Design

“You gave me your rosewood fruit bowl,” she said. The first bridge between her isolation and his friendship.

“In retrospect, I reckon that was a lure”—on his next step, heswaggered—“to bring you back. I was wrong not to talk to you about the exhibition. I’m hoping you’ll forgive me.”

“Not unless you accept the bequest.”

He was waiting for her. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “You want me to accept the bequest?” He feigned disbelief, but he was the one taking the risk, standing alone.

“It’s that, or the next offer is one hundred thousand dollars.” Lucy gave a take-it-or-leave-it shrug.

“Whisht, lassie, don’t be so daft. You don’t have that kind of ready cash.”

“We can meet halfway.” She pushed back from the table and took her first step.

“I’m already here, waiting for you.”

His arms closed around her. Pressing her nose against his throat, Lucy inhaled his woody scent. Content to lean against him, the desperation of the last two weeks slipped away. He wrapped her close while her arms found their way around his waist. She took the time to absorb his steadiness, to listen to his heartbeat and to believe in his love.

“I was afraid I’d hurt you too badly for you to forgive me,” he whispered against her temple.

“You asked me not to leave. I took a chance you meant that.” Lucy slid her hands inside his jacket, letting her fingertips dance over his cotton-covered chest. “The washstand gave me hope you’d decided to fight for us too.”

“You didn’t say anything about it.”

“It’s beautiful. You knew I’d never sell it.” He’d given Lucy a piece of her history and a piece of himself.

“It’s as precious as her pearls to you.” He cradled her jaw in his hand. “I’m glad you didn’t give up on me.”

“It’s the best present anyone’s ever given me.” She smiled, because finishing the wash basin demonstrated more than words ever could that she’d always been in his heart and mind.

“I love you.”

“Why don’t we give this table a workout?” She loosened his tie, pushing it into his jacket pocket, before flicking open the top button of his shirt. “That’s what you were hoping to do, wasn’t it?” She smoothed her forefingers along his collarbone, absorbing the warmth of his skin.

“It’s a pity to send it off without a christening.” His wink was sinful, his hands knowing as they cupped her buttocks to draw her against his body. Widening his stance, he settled himself more firmly between her thighs and gently rocked against her. A foretaste. “I might move the glassware first. Wouldn’t want our anniversary glasses to be bounced off the table because one of us is too enthusiastic.”

“Anniversary?” She stepped back and draped her jacket over a nearby chair.

“I have a feeling we’re going to have many.” His eyes narrowed when she started to unbutton her blouse. With more speed than care, he packed the half-eaten sandwiches and glasses into his cool box. “Leave the skirt,” he growled, shucking his jacket.

She put her hands under her skirt to push her panties down.

Strolling closer, he unbuttoned his shirt and let it hang open, tempting her to touch with more than her gaze. His fingers took their time on his belt buckle, focusing her attention on his arousal.

“Tease.” She tilted her chin and snapped open the front clip on her bra. The soft muslin of her blouse rubbed against her breasts, inciting her.

“Very nice,” he drawled, dropping his belt. His grin was pure mischief. “The boots can stay.”

Heat flooded her loins. “Youarein a hurry.”

He reached her. Face to face, close enough for her to smell the urgency on his skin. He slid his calloused palms from her waist halfway down her thighs before crushing her straight skirt between his fingers. He dragged it higher, one teasing inch at a time. “Aren’t you?”

“What did you have in mind?” Excitement hummed through her.

“I’ve stopped thinking.” He scooped her up and placed her bare backside on the end of the table, before sliding a finger into her damp heat. When she moaned, he sucked her taste from his finger. “Just marking my place.”

Her heart raced, and still he waited for her. “Love me, Niall.”

His trousers and jocks landed at his feet. Still, he took his time, cupping her face for his kiss. She fell off the end of the world, and he was her only anchor. Waves of hot sweetness hit her, followed by a hunger drenched in tenderness. Dragging his mouth from hers, his gaze was fierce. “I’ve never loved another before you.” He joined them. “You taught me what love is.”

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