“Nicely done.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

AFTER A THANKSGIVING day full of food, an announcement of a brand-new generation of Hurleys on the way from Mary and Damien and much more thankfulness and food, Paddy closed and locked his front door, setting the alarm. He had kooky fans but mainly, he had a need to protect Natalie that seemed to grow daily.

Her father had been lurking around town, and Paddy didn’t like that he’d gone to Natalie’s grandmother to manipulate and hurt her that way. He didn’t put it past the man to track her down up on the ranch if he decided it was his right to.

Then again, the man would be lucky to be caught by the alarm before one of the Hurleys got hold of him. He hadn’t shared with anyone else, but Sharon knew, and once his mother knew something, his father did, and while Michael Hurley was utterly laid-back in most things, the man would kill to protect what he felt was his.

And because Natalie was Paddy’s, she was Michael’s, too.

“Big day, huh?” He followed her upstairs where she headed straight to the master bathroom.

“It was a good day. I like your family, Paddy.”

She got undressed while the water for her shower got hot.

“They like you, too.” He tipped his chin toward the shower enclosure. “Want company?”

She gave him a look over her shoulder that got his attention nearly as well as all that pretty naked skin did.

She got in and he followed, sliding his skin against hers until he felt better. Taking the shampoo—her shampoo she now kept here at his place—he took over, lathering it into her hair as she tipped back into him.

This moment was everything. Everything he’d needed and never knew it until she came into his life.

Her eyes closed, she leaned on him, let him take care of her. This woman who did everything on her own—born from necessity at a really early age—letting him take care of her.

And it didn’t feel predatory. It didn’t feel calculated. It didn’t feel overwhelming or clingy at all. Putting her first, wanting her to be happy and taken care of had a sort of comfort to it.

He rinsed the shampoo away, and she stood under the spray for long moments, her eyes closed, one hand touching his hip as he stood under the opposite showerhead.

When she finally opened her eyes, that shock of connection roared through him as her gaze locked with his.

Two steps was all it took for him to touch, to pull her close and drop his mouth to hers. She met him halfway, tiptoeing up. Instead of wrapping her arms around him, she slid soapy palms all over his torso and back before finding his cock.

“Yes.” He thrust into her hold even as he kept kissing her lips, her cheeks, her chin.

She added her other hand, cupping his sac. He leaned back against the tile, watching her, his gaze moving from the look of concentration she wore to the way she handled him.

She loved touching him this way. He arched into her like a cat, taking what she offered without any shame. In this, between the two of them, they worked perfectly. Their bodies saying words she wasn’t sure either of them was brave enough to speak yet.

He’d get impatient soon enough, but until then, she’d tease him, drive him upward toward his peak. He liked being in her when he came. This flattered her for reasons she wasn’t sure of, but it didn’t matter. It worked. Made her feel sexy, and that was good, too.

She added a twist each time she reached the head and he groaned, taking her upper arms and spinning them so it was her back against the tile.

“Don’t move.”

He got out and returned quickly, wearing a condom. “Probably need to leave these in more places since you’re here more often.”

He drizzled her liquid soap all over her br**sts, following with his hands, his fingers pulling and rolling her ni**les on each pass.

Her eyes drifted closed as she allowed herself to fall into his touch. It was beautiful and reverent and yet, he didn’t wrap her up like she’d break, either. It was the perfect line he walked.

He kissed her as one of those slippery hands found her center, fingers teasing her clit, her hips jutting forward to get more.

Again, he turned her. “Hands against the tile,” he whispered in her ear. He nibbled the back of her neck, his fingers still busy on her nipple and at her clit until she could barely stand.

It was too much and not quite enough until he nudged her feet apart and the head of his c**k pushed against her, entering her in one slow but insistent thrust.

The joy of it filled her, arced up her spine, swelled her heart. He held her, bringing her pleasure as he made love to her. And as dirty and hard as it was, it was making love. Even when it was f**king, it was that. She wasn’t a faceless, nameless groupie; she wasn’t meaningless or a person he was with to pass the time. She was someone with him.

Someone to him.

Orgasm seized her muscles and then let go as it flowed through her, taking her under as she rested her head against his shoulder.

His body curled around hers, his hands, less busy now, splayed over her skin. Holding her up. Keeping her where he wanted, how he wanted.

“I love it when you come when I’m in you. The way your body clutches around my cock. So good. Nearly too good.”

He took his time until the water began to cool.

He shifted, his hands leaving her body, joining hers on the tile as he picked up the pace. Harder. Faster. She writhed against him until little aftershock orgasms rolled through her. He snarled her name and pushed in one last time, as deep as he could, and came.