“They’re delicious.” His voice was rougher, thicker than usual.
She averted her eyes again. “Oh, good. I’m glad you like them. I didn’t know how else to help you celebrate your big win. I tend to defer to baking for all things celebratory…which is why I keep an extra pair of jeans the next size up when any holidays come rolling around…” She was babbling adorably, seemingly unable to stop. “I’m sure you’re used to more lavish hooplas—”
He grabbed her and kissed her again.
As his male ego was pleased to note, that seemed to ground her. By the time he relinquished his hold on her lips, she was smiling again. “I made pot roast in the crockpot. Since you’re such a fan of good ole fashioned dishes and all, I called my mom for her recipe and wrote it out on an index card for you so you can add it to your collection.”
The gesture tugged at his chest. More and more, in unique little Abby ways, she was burrowing the most unlikely, but clear cut path to his heart.
He was going to miss her when she was gone.
It hit him then how different the house was going to be tomorrow after she left...after she went back to her own home. His gut clenched at the thought, rebelled against the notion of her calling anywhere else home since his only concept of the word for the past few weeks had existed around her.
Because of her.
And now he didn’t want to give that up, didn’t want her to go back to a home that he wasn’t in, didn’t want to think about the other inevitable reality he knew he’d have to face a few weeks after that.
The end of their month together.
Somewhere between his bedroom door and his closet, he was struck with the inane thought that there were thirty-one days in August.
One extra day in the month.
It stood to reason that his arrangement with Abby could be a thirty-one day month instead of thirty…never mind the fact that in the past few one-monthers he’d had, he’d been paring it down to four square weeks.
The lawyer in him told him it was a completely asinine argument to make, but some other unnamed voice inside him said it was genius, and that they were to present the discovery to her as soon as possible.
Because what it all boiled down to was the one thing he’d risk making a stupid argument for.
Another day with Abby.
“Okay, it’s ready!”
Blinking himself back to the present, he quickly changed out of his suit and headed back down to rejoin Abby. Halfway there, however, he got sidetracked by a little piece of paper sticking out from her bag on the couch.
The first bolded sentence of the email printout caught his attention before he could stop himself. Then the second sentence had him outright invading her privacy.
He smiled, picked up the paper and brought it with him into the dining room.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist for a warm hug.
“About what?”
“About getting an article accepted for publication.”
She spun around and snatched the printout from his hand.
Even though she was remaining impassive, he could see her eyes practically dancing the conga.
“I was going to tell you tomorrow. Since it’s not exactly on par with a $7.3 billion dollar deal and all.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Where’s the woman who reamed my ass for downplaying her accomplishments just the other week?” he asked sternly. “You getting an article published in a journal is a very, very big deal. Completely on par with my news.”
Her lips curved up at the corners.
“So we should celebrate,” he suggested, nuzzling the side of her neck.
“We already are.”
“But this is your gift to me. I want to give you something you want. So tell me. How can we celebrate your amazing news? Name it and it’s yours.”
She gnawed on her lower lip and then asked shyly, “Before or after dinner?” The way she was now rubbing her sweet backside against him was a pretty good indication of which she’d prefer.
He grew hard in an instant. “Before.” Wow, he sounded almost primitive just then.
“Okay.” She pushed him down into one of the dining chairs. “We’ll do my celebration first and then we can have yours.” Tugging on his button fly, she teased, “I hope you’re not too hungry…because what I want isn’t going to be all that quick.”
That’s what she thinks. With her curious hands all over him, he was ready to go off like a rocket ship at T-minus counting.
But then she moved those hands off his jeans, and placed them on top of his. At his questioning look, she smiled. “Keep your hands on the sides of the chair.”
She couldn’t be serious.
“I’m serious.”
Damn.
“No touching.” She slid up his shirt and trailed tiny tortuous kisses across his chest…down his stomach…
Jesus.
Eyes half-lidded with lust, she murmured softly, “What I want for my celebration is to have full reign over your body…starting here.”
Holy hell.
Her hot little mouth was going to have him ‘celebrating’ in about thirty seconds if he didn’t get some control, fast. He steeled himself, gripped the edges of the cushion until his knuckles were strained white, almost painful.
But any marginal progress he’d made by that move was undone, however, when she kneaded her hands up his thighs and then along the base of his shaft, gripping him tight as she slid him deeper into her mouth.
His hips lifted sharply off the chair. Just once. He couldn’t help it. She was driving him crazy. Crazier still when she purred in pleasure at the hard, quick thrust.
He let out a tortured groan, a wordless warning to her that he’d come soon if she didn’t slow down or—heaven forbid—stop.
Another thrust, another purr and she was locking her eyes on his, holding his gaze as she slowly, slowly took him all the way to the back of her throat.
Fireworks exploded behind his eyelids.
He forgot all about her rule then and reached out to spear his hands through her hair, gently pulling her to her feet so he could pick her up and push her up against the wall.
His mouth crashed onto hers as he yanked a condom out of the pocket of his jeans and got it on in record time.
Pulling aside her panties, he poised himself at her entrance.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart. Let me see you.”
When she did, he plunged into her heat.
Nothing, absolutely nothing had ever felt so good, so perfect. So his.
For eighteen more days.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“WHY DON’T YOU STAY? The construction guys are still going to be coming in and out of your cottage, finishing up. It’ll be hell on your concentration,” reasoned Connor as he kept an unyielding hold on her last fully packed suitcase.
And for the umpteenth time that morning, Abby almost gave in.
But she didn’t.
Because the truth of the matter was that she wouldn’t be able to bear it when he carried her luggage into the guestroom instead of his own room.
Her firm headshake wasn’t enough to dissuade him, however. “C’mon, you have way more room here to spread out your research. Plus, you have a gourmet kitchen to help you tour the world in style, not to mention a very efficient dishwasher that’ll work for kisses and heavy petting.”
Abby chuckled and pasted an overbright smile on her face. “Tempting, but it’ll be better for me to be back home before school starts.”
It wasn’t lost on her that the word ‘home’ tasted weird and chalky in her mouth now...all because she and Connor would no longer be using the word to refer to the same place.
Yeah, it was definitely time for her to go.
She hugged him tightly. “I had such a great time, Connor. Thank you so much for letting me stay here.”
Why did that feel like goodbye?
He held onto her hand. “Have dinner with me tonight?”
She couldn’t. She couldn’t keep playing house with him. Couldn’t keep finding new and better reasons to fall for him even more, to lose even more of her heart to him. She had to be strong. Protect herself.