A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [71]
She bucked under him, like a wild mare being broke to ride, and clawed at his shoulders and his back, and there was something so primitive, so freeing, in the joining that a terrible, consuming joy rose up inside her.
On and on it went, the delicious tension rising, rising—and then the peak. Melissa wept as she gave herself up to Steven Creed, completely, eagerly, without reservation or shame.
His whole body stiffened as, at last, he surrendered, his head thrown back, the muscles cording in his neck.
Then he collapsed beside her, one leg still sprawled across her thighs, and both of them lay gasping.
It was a long time—a very long time—before either of them spoke.
In the end, it was Steven who broke the silence.
Melissa’s face was wet with tears, and he dried them with the side of one thumb, kissed the traces of them away.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, and he sounded genuinely worried.
Melissa laughed softly. “Hurt me? Mister, if that was pain, bring on the next round.”
His eyes, his wonderful blue eyes, remained solemn, and the chortling sound he made came out brief and a little raw. “Then why the tears?”
She crooned a sigh. She was soft everywhere, inside and out. And more deeply satisfied than she’d ever imagined it was possible to be. “Because it was so good,” she said, tracing the line of his jaw with the tip of one index finger.
He ventured a smile then, shook his head. “Women,” he said.
He got up, disappeared into the bathroom again, then came back.
Melissa looked at Steven, saw that he was hard again, and held out her arms to him.
THE MEAT LOAF WAS PRETTY GOOD, in Steven’s opinion, and after several hours with Melissa O’Ballivan, definitely the hottest woman he’d ever encountered, in or out of bed, he was ravenously hungry.
He was managing to keep his misgivings at bay, but he knew they were slinking around like wolves on the fringes of the light from a campfire, waiting to pounce.
She sat across the table from him now, fresh from the shower they’d just shared, wearing his T-shirt and nothing else. He felt downright overdressed in his jeans and the shirt he’d been wearing earlier.
Melissa picked up her fork, but instead of taking a bite of food, she looked around. Smiled.
“What?” Steven asked, amused, but feeling a touch of something else, too. Something proprietary, though he wasn’t ready to call it jealousy.
“It’s ironic,” she answered, with a saucy twist of her mouth and a twinkle in her beautiful eyes. “I’ve been inside this bus maybe three times in my life—Brad bought it for the guys in his band, while Ashley and I were still in high school, and Olivia had just started college. And none of us were allowed anywhere near it unless he was with us—he was that determined to protect our virtue.”
Steven smiled. “Can’t say I blame the man for that,” he commented. “Looking out for three sisters—especially kid sisters—has to be a challenge.”
Melissa took a few bites, looking pleasantly thoughtful. Then she asked, “Do you have sisters, Steven?”
He shook his head. “I’m an only child,” he said.
“That sounds lonely.”
“You know what they say. A person can be lonely in a crowd.”
“That’s true,” Melissa admitted. “And I have to admit, there were times when I wouldn’t have minded being an only child myself.”
“Did you always want to be a lawyer?”
“No,” she replied. “My first ambition was to reign as queen of Stone Creek Rodeo Days.”
“Did you?”
“Sure did,” Melissa answered. “When I was nineteen. Did you always want to be a lawyer?”
Steven paused a moment before shaking his head. “Nope,” he said. “I planned on running a ranch, like my dad.”
“What changed your mind?”
Steven was a little surprised to find himself discussing a matter he’d barely talked about with Zack, his best friend, or Brody and Conner, his cousins. “Ranching was in my blood,” he said, “but so was the law, as it turned out. My grandfather founded one of the biggest firms east of the Mississippi. It was a family business.”
“Was?” Melissa’s tone was casual, but she was watching him closely.
“My uncles still run it. It wasn’t