The Determined Groom

“Thank goodness I caught you.” She was winded from running, and holding her so close, he suddenly felt breathless, too. “I couldn’t let you just go like that, Connor. It felt so…final,” she tried to explain. “Too final,” she added.

He nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. There was no need to explain. “I think we should talk. How about down at the beach?”

“But I’m busy tomorrow. That stupid sailing date with Phillip’s future in-laws,” she reminded him.

“Not tomorrow, tonight.” His hands moved up to grip her smooth shoulders. “Right now,” he said urgently.

As she gazed at him, he could read the flux and flow of indecision in her beautiful face—anticipation, desire, hesitation and guilt all flashed before his eyes. Her wide azure eyes studied him. Could she see that he’d been crying? God, he hoped not.

Finally, she nodded. “Wait for me by the dock. I’ll be there in a little while.”

He said nothing, just stared down at her as inexpressible feelings washed over him—relief, gratitude and then, a sweet rising wave of anticipation. She tenderly cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand. Then an instant later, she turned and ran back up the driveway toward the dark shadow of the Sutherland mansion.

Connor made his way to the beach on a sandy path overgrown with bramble and vines. If he hadn’t known the path existed, he would have never found it.

It was slow going. Luckily, a full moon had risen high in the clear night sky and the moonlight illuminated his steps. Finally, he came out at the Sutherlands’ stretch of private beach. He slipped off his jacket and shoes and rolled up the cuffs of his trousers. He spotted a long driftwood log and sat on it, staring out at the sea, as good a place as any to wait. The waves moved toward the shore in a smooth, regular rhythm, the blue-black water rippling in the distance like a skein of satin.

He’d often come down here after dark with Laurel when they were young. They’d build a fire and tell spooky stories. More often than not, Charles Sutherland would come looking for Laurel and sit with them, telling stories of his own. He had some good ones. And just as they’d never given a thought to the future back then, right now, Connor could think of nothing but the past. A simpler time. A time when the golden summer days seemed to stretch on endlessly, without beginning or end, and every day was a new adventure.

And along with the images of the cloudless blue skies and long sunny days, always came the image of Laurel. Laurel, laughing, joking, confiding her secrets, her troubles, her dreams. Her tanned, slender arms and legs gracefully swinging as she strolled beside him on the smooth wet sand, her golden hair waving behind her like a flag, her turquoise-blue eyes sparkling, the way the sun danced on the waves. Her wide, warm smile so accepting, so understanding. So loving.

She still had that smile. She was still the same, exactly, as she’d been—yet, now, so much more. He swallowed hard, and looked up at the house. The yellow squares of light in each window had all gone black. The caterer and cleanup crew were gone for the night. Everyone in the mansion had gone to bed.

Laurel would be here soon.

He could barely wait to feel her in his arms. To hold her and kiss her. To press his face into her soft hair and tell her how beautiful she was. How he’d never let her go now that he’d found her again.

He stood up, rubbing his hands together, searching the ragged line of trees and brush for some sign of her. He checked his watch. Barely ten minutes had passed. It felt like ten hours.

He stared out at the water again, his hands on his hips. The sound and motion of the surf was a soothing distraction, calming him a bit.

Finally, he heard her soft footsteps on the sand behind him. He spun around just as she stood about an arm’s length away. Still dressed in her glamorous gown, she’d removed all her jewelry—including her engagement ring, he noticed—and her shoes. She’d also removed the dressy clip that had held back the side of her hair, and her wavy golden mane was now blown back from her face by the breeze off the ocean.

He didn’t say a word. Couldn’t speak. He stepped toward her and cupped her bare shoulders in his hands. He pressed his cheek against her hair, breathing in the rich, flowery scent of her hair and skin. Laurel moved smoothly into his embrace, her arms looping around his waist, her soft, full breasts pressed to his chest.

She stirred against him, murmured his name, and his arms moved down to encircle her, gripping her tightly to him. For a moment, Connor felt as if he might explode.

Then his hands went up to her hair and he lifted her face to his. Her eyes were huge, liquid blue, dark as the sea and churning with longing, a hunger to love and be loved. He felt her run her hands along the hard planes of his back as if to confirm the message that her eyes had already so eloquently expressed.

They had talking to do. They had important things to discuss, to decide. He needed to keep his head, act responsibly. Honorably. He didn’t want Laurel to have regrets. Recriminations. He couldn’t stand it if she ended up feeling that way.

He gazed down at her. About to say something. Anything. And yet, no words came. Finally, his head dipped to the irresistible lure of her moist, red lips. Their mouths met and merged, his kiss questioning at first. Then, as he felt her eager response, the kiss quickly deepened to a passionate expression of all Connor felt for her. And all Laurel felt for him.

Her hands glided over his muscular chest and shoulders, then around to his back again, boldly caressing him. Connor answered in kind, sweeping his hands down the curves of her lithe form, from her shoulders to her hips, then back up again, to gently cup her breasts, circling the hardened tips with the pads of his thumbs. Laurel’s kiss felt wild against his mouth for a moment before she softly moaned with pleasure, her body sagging helplessly against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in a husky voice. “You take my breath away.”

Moments later, they dropped onto the sand. As their kisses grew wilder and even more intense, Connor cushioned Laurel’s head with one strong arm, the other stroking her from hip to thigh. His mouth moved from her lips, down the column of her throat and across the silky skin exposed by the low neckline of her gown. With his fingertip and tongue he teased and tasted the sensitive flesh at the top of her cleavage and soon had loosened the zipper at the back enough to pull the fabric down, exposing her breasts to his passionate touch.

He felt Laurel’s fingers moving through his thick hair as his mouth covered one rosy, sensitive nipple. She moaned and stirred under him, pressing her hips provocatively against his. He was sure that she must have felt his readiness for her, his throbbing need to make them one. He took a deep, ragged breath and lifted his head to look down at her. Her eyes were half-closed, dazed with passion, her gorgeous face flushed, her glorious hair splayed out around her head like a cloud of spun gold.

“Laurel. Darling,” he whispered. He kissed her lightly and then swallowed hard. “If you want me to stop, now’s the time to say it.”

She framed his face with her cool, soft hands and looked deeply into his eyes. “I want you, Connor. I want to make love with you. Please.”

His pulse beat madly out of control as her words penetrated his fevered brain. Her thrilling caresses had set a fire burning inside him that burst out of control. He struggled to repress an instinctive impulse to plunge himself into her body at his next breath. As he held still above her, trying to slow himself down, her fingers nimbly opened his shirt buttons and he felt her warm mouth moving over his chest, kissing him, tasting him, her warm, wet tongue swirling around his sensitive nipple.

He felt his body shudder and he moved to rest on his side in the sand, as Laurel’s caresses moved lower, her mouth tenderly exploring his flat abdomen, her hands caressing his chest and then his thighs. He felt her unfasten his belt and the top of his pants, then felt her hand slip inside his pants to cup and caress his male hardness, stroking him until he thought he’d cry out with the unbearably intense pleasure of her touch.

When Connor knew he could stand no more of her seductive caresses, he raised himself above her again, his hand sliding up under her gown, up her smooth, strong leg. His fingertips found the lacy edge of her panties and his fingers slipped inside, seeking and finding her slick velvety warmth. He could feel that she was more than ready for him. But he wanted to make this perfect for her, he wanted to thrill her in a way no other man ever had before.

His fingers expertly stroking the peak of her pulsing womanhood, Connor was alert to the slightest shift of her body, the slightest change in her breathing, eager to please her, to touch her exactly as she wanted. His mouth moved again to her breast, sucking and soothing her nipples. Laurel fell back against the sand, sighing and writhing with pleasure as his masterful loving pushed her higher and higher. She gripped his powerful shoulders, her hips thrusting up to meet the lovingly slow strokes of his hand.

He felt her shiver and press her face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. She took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed herself close to him.

“Connor, please. Come to me,” she said. “I can’t wait anymore.” With her hands on his hips, she gently urged his body to cover her own.

“Neither can I, sweetheart,” he whispered. With his mouth pressed to her own, Connor hastily pushed her gown up over her hips and settled between her thighs. Moments later, he made their bodies one.

He heard Laurel’s sharply indrawn breath and felt her body tense, then tremble in his arms. He held very still, kissing her hair until he felt her relax again beneath him. When he began to move slowly inside her, he heard her moan deep and low at the back of her throat, but it was a sound of pure pleasure and it thrilled him, inspiring him to move even deeper, to give her even more.

Their bodies moved as one in an ageless rhythm, an echo of the steady pounding of the waves against the shoreline. Connor thrust faster and deeper, every sigh and movement of Laurel’s hips rising to meet his own, driving him wild with passion for her.

She was indescribably beautiful, unique and precious, the rarest treasure he’d ever know. As he brought her to a climax of pleasure and felt himself reaching his own, some dim, distant part of his mind felt as if this moment of complete possession had not served to satisfy one single drop of his hunger for her. To the contrary, to love her, to hold and have her this way had opened a door in his heart, or even his soul, that had been long left locked and sealed. But now it stood open, leading to a road of limitless longing for her—a need for her that would never be satisfied, never sated.

Just as he heard Laurel’s cries of ecstasy as she reached her peak, he felt himself topple over the edge. He shuddered in her arms and felt her tremble beneath him. Their mouths merged in a deep, devouring kiss as Connor moved within her with one last powerful thrust. He felt her shiver and grip him close, hearing her call his name as her body clenched around him, and they cleaved together in the ultimate of intimacy, as close as two beings could ever be.

Some time later, Connor and Laurel sat together in a close embrace, leaning back on the driftwood log. He had covered her with his suit jacket and then wrapped her possessively in his arms. Her head rested on his chest, tucked below his chin, her arms loped around his waist as he stroked her hair.

He stared up at the stars, still too moved to speak. Finally he said, “Tell me you won’t marry Todd Parson. I don’t think I could stand it if you did.”

“No, I can’t marry him,” Laurel agreed softly. She looked up at him and touched her hand to his cheek. “Right now, I can’t even remember why I wanted to.”

Two

Seven years later

Laurel glanced at the small gold clock on her desk. Nine thirty-three. Barely two minutes had passed since she’d last checked, though somehow, it felt like two hours. Connor Northrup was due to arrive at ten o’clock. She would not go down to the meeting room until then.

She felt the flurry of butterflies churning her stomach and tried to ignore it. She turned her attention to her desktop, piled with papers, and tried to focus on the task at hand, trying to determine if Sutherland Enterprises should sue a supplier who had failed to keep to the terms of their contract.

Laurel flipped open a folder of correspondence and tried to concentrate on the stack of letters. Some were quite old, dated up to five years ago and signed with her former married name, Laurel Parson.

She didn’t like to be reminded of her marriage. She felt a wave of sadness, futile sadness, actually. When her friends and family had heard the story of Todd’s infidelity, they had naturally rushed to support her, to make Todd out to be the villain of the piece.

But Laurel knew better. It took two to make a mess of a marriage and she had played her part.

The truth was, she should have never married Todd in the first place.