“I won’t last,” he gasped, “if you keep moving like that.”
“I’m not going to last either,” she panted, feeling her orgasm begin to shake up her thighs.
“Touch yourself,” he demanded. When Jo complied, she groaned at how good that felt.
“Come for me, baby, and then I’m going to fill you up.” Thomas took control of the momentum because she could no longer keep pace.
One moment she was riding the edge, and the next she was crying out. Her orgasm had her back bowing. A hoarse cry left her mouth just as Thomas roared his release, and she would swear the dishes rattled.
She let her head drop to his shoulder while he rubbed her back in soothing circles. “I love you,” she said, kissing the side of his neck.
“Christ, Josephine. Love has never been a strong enough word for what I feel for you.”
All these years together, and he still surprised her with his romance. “I’d better get dressed before your son gets home, and our current state burns his eyes out.”
“Fine, but I’d rather stay inside you.”
“There’s always tonight.” He gave her behind a light slap when she bent over to pick up her clothes to dress. “Now, Mr. MacGregor, I’m going to work on dinner, and while I do that, you and I are going to discuss your daughter.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, rearranging himself beneath his sweats.
The front door slammed open, surprising them both. Laith and Lochlann came tumbling into the kitchen, dumping their rugby gear in an untidy heap on the floor and going straight to the refrigerator for drinks.
Josephine tried to quickly do up the rest of her buttons. “What are you boys doing home so early?” Two minutes earlier, and they all would have had an embarrassing moment.
“Coach’s daughter puked all over his shoes. He called it,” Laith offered.
“What’s for dinner?” Lochlann sniffed, opening the pots on the stove.
Before she could answer, Laith answered. “I think your parents already had dinner if your dad’s semi and your mom’s crooked buttons are any clue.”
Thomas lunged out of his chair and had Laith’s shirt fisted in a heartbeat. “You want your ass beat, boy, keep running your mouth about my wife,” he threatened. “Get your asses upstairs.”
“I’m going to order pizza for us, Ma,” Lochlann muttered. Both boys took their sports drinks and gave Thomas a wide berth as they exited the kitchen.
As the boys started down the hallway, she heard Laith say, “Good call, Loch. Who the fuck knows what’s on the table.”
“Shut your mouth, Laith. I saw your dad last month taking Aunt Cat against the side of one of her greenhouses.”
“No, you didn’t,” Laith replied hotly.
“I did. She was screaming your da’s name just like in the mov—” Lochlann was cut off from describing the event further—probably from a jab to his side from Laith.Thank the Lord.
“I’m dead. How mortifying.”
“Loch,” Thomas hollered after them, “order your mom and me a pizza. We have unfinished business this evening, and it will free up her time.”
“Not a word, dickhead,” Lochlann hissed before his bedroom door slammed shut.
“Thomas,” she whined. “He shouldn’t even know about sex.”
“He’s a month from sixteen, love. There isn’t a whole lot he thinks about that doesn’t involve sex. Coll and I spoke with the boys last year.”
“Fine, but it had better have only been the highlights. I don’t want to discuss any of,” she hesitated, “that.” Scooping the cut veg she’d been working on into a plastic zipper bag, she turned to her husband, who was smirking, clearly thrilled with tugging the boys’ tails.
“Now we’ve the time, sit and I’ll tell you what the word is from Dublin.” She poured each of them a shot of whisky to complement the tall glasses of iced tea. She’d finally converted Thomas into an unsweetened iced tea connoisseur.
Ripping the band-aid off, she started with, “Ciar is moving to Dublin with his daughter this week. The building he boughtfor him and Gray, which she had cancelled plans for, he actually finished.
