Chapter Thirty-Three

He wasn’t going to beat himself up about telling her his feelings.

Someone had to go first. He thought his declaration might have scared her away; instead, they walked out of the elevator, carrying a large pepperoni pizza and a bottle of Chianti. Beverly was a difficult woman to interpret sometimes.

As they walked through the front door, he wondered if she would say something about his place. He tried to see the space through her eyes. He liked his overstuffed furniture and views of the North End through huge, arched windows. The building itself was originally a shoe factory. He had left the brick exposed in his living room and had hung some of his sister’s photography on the walls.

He especially liked there were fifteen amazing Italian restaurants less than ten minutes from his front steps. The North End was one of Boston’s liveliest neighborhoods, but still had a small-town feel he appreciated. He knew his neighbors and their children. It was that kind of place.

She didn’t often hold back her thoughts, and she didn’t keep him waiting long. “It’s exactly what I pictured.” She turned, looking around.

He opened the bottle. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yes, of course.” She took the offered glass of wine and smiled up at him.

She smelled like beach roses and sea salt. It drove him to distraction. He forced himself to focus on what she had said. “So, explain. What did you picture?” He took a sip of wine. “Perhaps sleek, black leather and chrome everywhere?”

“God, no. That’s too contemporary and macho for you.”

“Now you’ve cut me deep. I’m not manly?”

“You’re very manly, Counselor.” She stood on her toes to kiss him. “You just aren’t a macho jackass. There’s a difference.” She gave him a wink and turned again. “No, it’s perfect for you. Classic but not too traditional. Not fussy, but neat. Warm and inviting.”

“Does that mean you find me warm and inviting?” He walked behind her, lifted the shower of auburn hair from her neck and kissed her softly behind her ear.

She turned abruptly and looked up at him. “Right now, I find you hot and extremely sexy.”

He let out a pent-up breath. She set her wine on the end table. She sauntered back to him, a secret in her eyes.

He swallowed. “Are you seducing me, Miss Winslow?”

She leaned up and kissed him passionately. She pressed her body against his, and he slid his hands to her waist and pulled her closer. He growled low when she nipped at his lower lip.

“How am I doing, Counselor?”

“Depends on your ultimate goal.” He tried to refocus. It wasn’t working. She’d bewitched him.

“My goal is to get you in your bedroom and drive you out your mind until you can’t take it anymore.”

“I’d say mission accomplished.” He closed his mouth over hers, swept his tongue inside to taste her again. He was desperate to get closer. He shuddered with frustration when she pulled away from him. Taking his hand, she led him down the hallway.

“Do you need directions to the bedroom?”

“I’ve got a pretty good handle on navigation. Besides, if I get lost, the floor will work for my purposes.”

He groaned. “You’re killing me, woman.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Then may I say, I am completely on board with this plan.”

“I thought you might be.”

****

She felt a thrill at the need she saw in his eyes. It was powerful and heady. She wanted to tell him his words to her in the car mattered, but she was too overwhelmed. Still too frightened to let go. She might not know the right thing to say, but she could show him.

She pulled him into his bedroom, noted the exposed brick above an intricate, metal headboard, and simple gray bedding on a king-size bed. He’d left his windows cracked open, allowing the soft, cool spring breeze to scent the room. The faint sounds of Saturday night activity from the street, including a guitar player singing his version of “That’s Amore” filtered up to them. It made her grin.

“I approve.” She leaned up to kiss his chin.

“Thank God,” he spoke harshly. “Beverly, please don’t make me beg.”

“I intend to do just that, Counselor.” She took off her black T-shirt to reveal a lacy, black bra. He reached for her. She wagged her finger at him. “Not yet.” When he began to unbutton his own shirt, she stilled his hands.

“You have to let me do that.” She wiggled out of her jeans, saw his eyes flare with desire.

“I approve as well,” his voice sounded rough, and warmth spread through her to her center. She told herself to go slow, to draw out the anticipation, but found she couldn’t wait to touch him. Standing, she looked into his eyes as she slid open the buttons of his shirt. Undoing the fly of his jeans, she lowered her head to his chest and rained kisses across his collarbone.

“I want to show you what you mean to me. It’s easier for me than trying to find the words.”

He nodded his agreement. His Adam’s apple rose and fell with his hard swallow. She kissed him there and scraped her teeth along the column of his neck, relishing his low rumble of approval.

He gripped her shoulders. “I need you.”

“I need you, too, but let me torture you a bit first.” She took off her lingerie and finished undressing him, then led him to the bed and gently pushed him down on it. She lowered her body onto his. His hard chest rose and fell with the ragged cadence of his breath. Straddling his thighs, she massaged the muscles from his stomach to his chest and back again, loving the smooth hardness of his torso.

She lowered her head for a kiss, sucked on his lower lip to tease him a moment, and then satisfied them both by deepening it. He tasted like wine. She heard her own moan as his hands glided along her sides, took hold of her thighs, and brought her closer to him. She arched her back to take him inside her but wanted to make this moment last and pulled back instead.

She broke the kiss and slid her body down the length of his, teasing kisses along her way. When she took him in her mouth, his body tensed beneath hers.

“Jesus, I can’t take—” He let out a ragged breath. “Christ. That feels good.”

She savored this moment, his masculine taste overwhelming her and filling her with need so intense she shook with it. Suddenly he moved beneath her and hauled her up along the length of him.

“I won’t last much longer if you keep that up.” His voice sounded like sandpaper. “Let me show you what you do to me,” he pleaded.

She said nothing, only nodded and let him roll them over. Him pressing against her thighs into the soft sheets beneath her. He dipped his head to her breasts and took a taut nipple into his mouth, sucked. She bucked against him, and he kept up the gorgeous torture. The hot coil of need tightened in her.

He dragged his mouth to taste the very center of her desire, and she arched, overcome, until all she could do was feel his mouth and tongue bringing her to the edge.

“I need you inside me.”

He lifted his body over hers, his breaths ragged. She shifted to welcome him, and he kissed her hungrily as he thrust into her. His mouth captured her moans as they began a rhythm.

With the last bit of sanity she had left, she rolled them over so she was sitting astride him, mindless to anything but the feel of him deep inside her. She paused for a moment, looking into his eyes. She dropped down to whisper, “No one has made me feel the way you do.”

His eyes widened, but he said nothing as she set the pace of their rhythm, and he grabbed her hips for the ride.

“Beverly, now.”

She quickened the tempo. As their hands joined, she felt him shatter beneath her, pushing her into her own exquisite climax. Mindless to everything except their pleasure, until she heard his softly whispered “I love you” as she collapsed on top of him.

****

The damn cell phone would not stop ringing.

He tried to rouse himself but that was difficult, since her amazing body draped over his. She’d enchanted him, and he didn’t want to break the spell. All he wanted to do was roll over and slide into her warmth.

Instead, his phone chorused with hers, and he groaned. She muttered her annoyance in her sleep and rolled over.

He looked at his bedside clock. It was only ten P.M. They hadn’t been sleeping very long. He hoped she’d wake soon and would want to eat cold pizza. Then he intended to talk her back into his bed. He wanted to wake up with her in the morning.

By the time he had pulled on his jeans and walked out to his living room, both phones were vibrating again. He was about to pick up his when Beverly walked out wearing only his shirt which barely fell to the top of her long legs.

He’d never see the shirt the same way. He couldn’t help but stare. Her eyes were sleep heavy and her auburn fall of hair a mess. She couldn’t look any sexier. Seeing her in his shirt stirred a possessiveness he hadn’t experienced with any other woman. It was a cliché, but it worked.

He ignored his phone, walked to meet her in his living room, and claimed her mouth.

“Well, hello to you, too,” she said when he finished ravishing her mouth. “That kiss leads me to believe you’d like to go back to bed.”

“Bed, table, counter, against the hallway wall. Take your pick. I’m more than ready.”

“Then why are we up?”

“We made the monumental mistake of leaving our phones on, and I came out here to throw them in the street.”

She put her arms around his neck, and he groaned as both their phones began ringing again. She pushed against his chest. “You didn’t follow through, Counselor. Now I have to throw them out the window.” They both reached for their phones.

“Finn Callahan,” he answered. When he heard the news, his body shook with rage. “Let me know if you find anything else out.” He ended the call, resisted the urge to actually throw the phone.

“What happened? I have four missed calls from Tracy. Something must’ve happened.”

“It’s going to be fine.” He rubbed her shoulder. “We will get through this together.”

“What? Just tell me.”

“John Hamilton confessed to the murder of Ellen Frye, your grandfather’s nurse. Apparently, Ellen used the information she overheard in your grandfather’s home to make some side money. John paid her to get as much information about the will as she could. He also confessed to having her snoop around my offices. Tracy doesn’t think she got any more information from my office, though. She heard plenty during the weeks Reginald and I were drafting his will.” He pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Jesus. Beverly, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she was eavesdropping. She wasn’t even in the room. This is my fault. I should have been more careful.” He was disgusted with himself. “John Hamilton had an inside track on the will the entire time.”

“You can’t blame yourself. He would have found a way,” she said. “I can’t believe this, though; it really doesn’t seem like John.”

“I know. Tracy said they are all reeling in the regional office.”

“What else did she say? Did he confess to blowing up my offices? What about the attack on Joe?”

“All of it.” He dropped down on his couch. “John did it all. He wanted you to leave the money to your mother. He knew your mother wasn’t bound to run Winslow Holdings, and he could have it all if he stepped in and played the doting brother-in-law. The whole thing was a setup to scare you off and still come out on top.”

“So it’s over?” She sat next to him. “Are they taking him to jail?”

“God, no, they aren’t taking him to jail. I’m sorry. I should have said something first. He tried to kill himself. They’re taking him to the hospital.”