The MacGregor Brides by Nora Roberts

do.” She set her glass down. “Well, I thought it best to clear the matter up. Good night.”
    “Just a damn minute.” He only had to shift to block her path. “You come here in the middle of the night, drop your little bombshell and stroll off? I don’t think so.”
    “I thought you’d like to know, and to know that I’ve spoken with him and straightened things out.”
    “That’s fine, that’s your family business.” He stretched an arm across the doorway, resting a hand on the jamb to hold her in. “And you should know I don’t give a damn what your grandfather has in mind.” He wrapped her hair around his free hand, tipping her head back. “He’s not here, your father’s not here, your brother’s not here, your cousins aren’t here.”
    Her heartbeat thickened. “No, no one’s here except you and me.”
    “So why don’t you tell me what you have in mind, Laura?”
    “If I have to tell you, you’re not nearly as quick as I thought you were.”
    “I want you to tell me. Exactly.”
    There was only one step between them. She took it, closed the distance. “I want you to take me to bed. I want you to make love with me for the rest of the night. Is that clear enough?”
    “That’s crystal.”
    He swept an arm under her knees. Her breath caught as he lifted her off her feet. Before she could shift to wrap her arms around him, his mouth was hot and hungry on hers. With a little murmur of pleasure, she sank into the kiss, kicking off her shoes as he carried her toward the bedroom.
    The room was full of shadows, the sheets were tangled, and the mattress creaked under their weight. Lifting her arms, she drew him closer and let the kiss spin gloriously through her system.
    He yanked her jacket over her shoulders, nipping his teeth over her throat as he dragged it free, tossed it aside. She was slim and eager beneath him, arching at a touch, sighing at a taste. He wanted to savor, moment by moment, inch by inch, but the need he felt was too huge, too strong, as if it had been strapped down and straining for years.
    As her mouth slid and angled and gave under his, he ran his hands over her, torturing them both, pleasing them both. He heard her moan, felt her heart trip under his palm, then, unable to wait, tugged her blouse apart. Her bra skimmed low over the curve of her breasts, a shimmering line of satin against silk. He closed his mouth over her, reveling in the mix of textures.
    She nearly cried out, just from that, the sensation of lips and tongue on flesh. Oh, but she wanted more, she wanted all, and she curved up to offer, her nails skimming down his back in edgy demand.
    It ached, everything he did, everywhere he touched, brought a low, throbbing ache. She hadn’t known she could want so much, that the need for anything could be so sharp, so immediate. And when his mouth came back to hers, she all but wept from the sensation.
    She rolled with him, her body fluid, energized. Her breath was sobbing as he dragged off her skirt. Her mouth, seeking flesh, was as greedy as his.
    Her flesh was smooth, hot, irresistible. Her hair, all that glorious black silk, wrapped around them as they wrestled over the bed, struggling to free themselves of the last barriers. Soft here, there firm,yielding, then demanding. He filled himself with her, too steeped in her to realize he’d never needed anything, anyone, this desperately.
    When he cupped her, her moan was low and long and broken. In the dim light, he watched her eyes flash open, go blind, as he drove her over. She choked out his name, fisted her hands in his hair. And went wild.
    She didn’t notice that they slid to the floor, dragging trapped sheets with them. The air was thick and heavy, clogging her lungs, his hands were quick and rough, bruising her skin. She flung an arm out, as if for balance. Something crashed.
    Then he was inside her, forcing her over the edge again, where there was nothing to hold on to but him. Mindlessly she wrapped herself