Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3)

by Suzanne Halliday

  Summer’s unique essence was extraordinary. The blazing brilliance of her life force radiated with color and came off as both calm and turbulent at the same time. She was heat and cold in the same breath. Her body owned its space without overpowering. He needed no more proof of her singularity. She was the exception. An outlier who did not fit a mold. Just like him.

  Sitting on the horrendous sofa as they playfully annihilated the entire box of cookies and the whole can of whipped cream, making jokes and cracking each other up was the most authentic interaction he’d ever had.

  She broke out the animal sounds with each cookie and reduced him to snorted laughing. He made up a wild tale about life on the Serengeti. Every second was perfect. His mom was right about Summer love.

  “I’m gonna take my boots off, okay?” she asked without waiting for a response and quickly ditched the footwear. “Bra first, shoes second,” she informed him with a playful eyebrow wag.

  Why he said what he did surprised him more than her. “One of the women I work with would add a third thing. Bra, shoes, wig.”

  “You work with someone who wears wigs?”

  His thoughts threw a spotlight on Aliyah Hawkins. Part cover girl, part model, part shit-kicking badass, she had a full-on chick boutique going on in her NIGHTWIND offices. It was Ali who educated him and everyone else about women of color and hairstyles. Depending on her mood, what she was doing, if she was working, and what day it was, she had a hairpiece for every occasion. It was fucking impressive. Guys got one shot while the ladies had a bag full of clever tricks.

  “Believe it or not, there is a vast and growing legion of women working in the security field. Some get there because of skill with technology or undercover expertise.” He rolled a shoulder. “My company does a fair amount of work under the government and military umbrella. We aren’t the ones running divorce court surveillance.”

  “I see.” She nodded. “The Army has my brother doing something he calls advanced training. I understand even though I have no idea what it means.”

  He knew all about the Army and their advanced training.

  The subject changed just as quickly as it started.

  “So, help me get this right.” She waved her hands around. “I’ve never attempted a sofa seduction before. Should I adjust the lighting? Put on music? Have a first-aid kit handy?”

  “Well, damn,” he growled. “I don’t know. To be perfectly honest, I’d be fine with a spotlight and a marching band.” His grin was meant to be cocky, and her smirking reaction told him he’d hit the mark.

  “I’ve done this before. Not the seduction part,” he quickly reiterated. “That part is new. I’m used to women taking what they want. It’s been a long time since I had to work for it,” he teased. “Although you did take off your bra.” He stroked a pretend beard and leered at her boobs.

  “Let there be no doubt, you’re still working for it. Magnum XL and all.”

  He laughed heartily. Maybe celibate was the wrong word, but he’d certainly been in sexual limbo for some time. Being the dude with the big dick was great when he was younger and constantly horny. Getting laid was never a problem; as a matter of fact, women gave it away eagerly for a chance to hop on top. But when all was said and done, having a monster cock did not guarantee an emotional connection. He got bored with being an object and let his sexual Olympics certification expire.

  Within the first minute of talking to Summer, a connection formed. He felt it, and so did she. This was different. Whatever happened, they were in it together.

  5

  Oh, my goodness! If Arnie got any hotter, cuter, or sexier, she was going to need either a time-out or a doctor. A love doctor to help her manage the barrage of sensations battering her mind and body. And her heart.

  He elbowed her gently and leaned in close. “You want me to work for it? Is that the dulcet sound of a closet dominatrix?”

  She gasped and giggled. “Is it? How a dominatrix sounds,” she asked.

  “Pfft.” He snorted. “I have no idea. Too much alpha,” he told her.

  Well, there you have it, she thought with a smirk. The man was a walking, talking advertisement for testosterone overload. He exuded masculinity. It was hard to imagine him being submissive.

  “I think I’d laugh and ruin it,” he told her in a sexy drawl. “But if you wanna play at being a domme, I’d give it an honest try.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” She playfully snorted.

  He nodded and bit back a smirk. “You’re probably right.”

  “Okay, then.” Summer giggled. “Back to setting the scene.”

  Arnie relaxed, slung an arm on the back of the sofa, and looked around.

  “Less light.” He grinned. “Music is good. So is background porn.”

  The look she gave him was as dry and snarky as she could pull off. It wasn’t easy—not when a smile and a giggle were fighting to take over.

  “I volunteer to do the cleanup,” he told her with an air of manly superiority. “Cleaning shit up is something I excel at.”

  He gathered their trash and empty bowls and walked all of it into the kitchen. She jumped up and ran around, turning lights on and off until the proper making-out ambience was achieved.

  “Mind if I help myself to a beverage?” Arnie hollered.

  “Help yourself to a Diet Coke.” She listened for his laugh and smiled when it came.

  He was easy to be with and super easy to like. It was a comfort thing, or maybe he gave off a safe vibe—she wasn’t sure if it was either or something else entirely, but whatever it was, she couldn’t stop herself from jumping first and being sensible later. Much later.

  “Music. Oh, god.” She nibbled her lip and considered the options. Her musical tastes were eccentric and ranged from be-bop kid songs to modern country to ’80s hair bands.

  Wait a minute.

  A lightning bolt of giddiness hit her. At the rock-steady age of almost twenty-five and with ample opportunity to change her mind, she was making a choice. Going all the way with the sexy, outrageously funny blonde wasn’t something she was doing capriciously. It was fated, and she was sure of it.

  Trying to be something she wasn’t or playing a part wasn’t who she was, and she was relatively sure Arnie wasn’t interested in a charade. Amidst all the smiling and laughter was a deeply serious undertone. He wasn’t shy about telling it like it was. There really was something happening between them. Something wild and untamed. Something she wanted to explore joyfully and not stumble into shyly.

  She grabbed her iPad, brought up a playlist, synced the device with a Bluetooth speaker, and got ready to blow his mind. Tonight was going to be memorable anyway, so why not add a soundtrack?

  “A girl after my own heart,” Arnie said with a chuckle. He held up an ice-filled plastic tumbler filled with soda. “Scooby-Doo? Really?”

  Oh! Summer giggled. The tumbler was decorated with the Scooby gang in vinyl. It was a joke between her and Reed. He was always telling her never to trust anyone who drove a van. Except for the Mystery Machine. That was the exception.

  When it came to big brothers, Reed was the best—even if he was a know-it-all pain in the ass.

  “I’ve been told I’m a Daphne.” She accepted a tumbler and smiled. “I’m definitely not a Velma. I wouldn’t make the debate team, and while I’m part California hippie, I think I’m mostly like Fred and not because of the hair.” She held a finger to her lips, and fake whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a bit of a jock.”

  “I drive a van. For work,” he told her with a straight face.

  “No. You. Do. Not!”

  He laughed. “Nah, it’s true. It has a distinct Mystery Machine vibe made worse by the addition of some well-placed Scooby stickers.”

  She sipped the soda and tried to imagine what his job entailed. From everything he’d told her, his security agency sounded like something out of a Judd Apatow movie.

  “Now, in my defense,” he drawled, “because you know a
guy always has to have a defense, there was a significant amount of alcohol involved. It started in a hole-in-the-wall store in New York City. Me and one of the guys. We stopped for munchies one night, and a rack display of Scooby stickers was near the register.”

  He painted an interesting picture. She smiled and winked. “Boys will be boys?”

  “Something like that.”

  He peered at her intently. She felt and saw a shimmery sensuous pulse of light pass between them. Awareness made her shiver. She didn’t need to know what he was thinking to know exactly what he was thinking.

  His eyes raked over her, and his bold stare triggered a tingling in the pit of her stomach. Warmth flooded her core, and she bit her lip to stop a moan from escaping. First things first.

  “I like your lighting scheme,” he murmured. “Soft and not at all subtle. Like you.”

  She laughed. In a few minutes, he’d know exactly how unsubtle she was.

  He glanced around and drank his soda. “Was the background porn thing too much? It was, wasn’t it?”

  “Performance anxiety,” she told him with a dramatic shudder.

  They stood there, sipping Diet Coke. She let the awkwardness build because it was funny watching him flounder. Her confidence was bolstered by how adorably out of his comfort zone he was.

  When she sensed him at peak nervousness, she took a deep breath and let her plan turn to action. He might be older and have tons more experience, but she was certain he’d never be the same when she was finished with him.

  Hiding a sly smile behind her drink tumbler, she lowered her eyes and lazily drank him in with her senses. He was disturbing in a good way. Her heart thumped and her pulse pounded as she checked him out with a long, frank assessment of his lower torso. The man was the epitome of masculinity. She couldn’t resist his staggeringly powerful maleness.

  She raised her eyes. The smoldering flames she saw in his gaze made her gulp. He took the tumbler out of her hands and set it down with his. When he took a step closer, she thought he might be going to kiss her, and that wasn’t how she wanted things to go.

  Snapping out of the stupor his virile appeal caused, she put her hands on his chest to stop his forward motion and gave a little shove. He toppled onto the sofa and grinned up at her.

  “Are you taking charge, then?” he asked with so much cheekiness she laughed.

  “Go to the end of the sofa,” she directed with a finger point. “I need room.”

  “Room?” He said, “Hot damn,” smacked his hands together, and rubbed them gleefully.

  “I’ve wanted to learn pole dancing since forever. Best core workout around! But when could I practice?” She made a face and shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I have a pole in my bedroom.”

  Gesturing widely, she waved her hand around the living room. “But what I do have is open space and lots of different furniture heights.”

  In a Groucho Marx pantomime, complete with an imaginary cigar, she said, “You can take the girl out of the gym, but you can never take the gymnastics out of the girl.”

  “You have my undivided attention.”

  She shook her head as though he was an exasperating boy, then bent over with her ass conveniently in his face to tap the iPad on the coffee table. The music started softly. She turned and faced him to sing along.

  Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” pop classic came out when she was fifteen. The catchy beat-driven song quickly became a gymnastics favorite. Back when competition to be original and edgy was fierce, many of her gymnast friends used it for their free dance tune.

  Summer still remembered her choreography. The familiar tune overtook her. She belted out the lyrics while dancing around the living room in a routine filled with sexed-up gymnastics moves. Amateurish moves, but still.

  Arnie’s initial shock turned to an enormous shit-eating grin as she vamped her way through the song. Happiness swept her away, and before she knew it, the elation bolstered her confidence, and the gym routine morphed into a naughty lap dance.

  Did she place his hands on her skintight jeans and shimmy all over his lap? Yes. That happened.

  The song ended with her straddling him without shame. His hands were on her ass with his head on the back of the sofa as he stared up at her.

  “That’s it,” she confessed breathlessly when a different song played softly in the background. “That’s all I have.” His eyes flared. “Oh, wait,” she murmured. “There’s this.”

  Swiftly closing the distance between them, she claimed his lips. For a few seconds, her brain still worked, and then her calm was shattered by the hunger of the kiss. She clung to his mouth with her hands on either side of his face. He firmed his grip on her ass.

  Shaken by the light-headedness caused by his virility, Summer surrendered. There were no unanswered questions. Not for her. She had to join her body to his. She couldn’t say why, only that her whole being demanded it.

  Driven by impulse, she tore her mouth away and stroked his neck with her tongue. His skin was warm, and he tasted divine. She heard him moan and felt the sound rumble from his chest.

  When he put a hand on her head and pressed, she became aggressive. Pretty soon, it wasn’t just her lips and tongue—she sank her teeth into his neck until he growled. When she didn’t stop, he fisted the hair on the back of her head and yanked her back.

  “Just so you know,” he said in a husky warning tone, “greedy is a turn-on.”

  Oh my god, really? Was she being greedy?

  She was in trouble then because if this was greedy and she was just getting started, heaven only knew what came next.

  He continued to grip her hair and control her head still while his tongue traced her lips. The eroticism got her breath coming in short pants.

  “You need a thorough kissing,” he murmured against her tingling lips.

  Nothing happened for a few seconds, so she whimpered, “Am I supposed to say please?”

  The huskiness in his chuckle made her quiver. “I was thinking out loud, not issuing a command. Begging is better served when the anticipation isn’t already off the chart.”

  Pity. She was fully prepared to bluntly state her desires if that was what it took.

  Stroking his chest ended with her involuntary purr. For a second, she was embarrassed, but the ferociousness of his expression changed her thinking. Being silent or keeping how she was feeling to herself for the sake of not appearing stupid was just plain dumb. Arnie fed off her reactions. At times, it felt as though he was hardwired to her emotions. She found it disconcerting at first but was starting to see the connection as more valuable than an extravagant gift. A soul connection took things in an interesting direction.

  “Now that you know my gymnastics history, how was my routine?” she asked in a husky coo while continuing to explore his chest. “Did you like it?”

  “Indeed, I did.” He chuckled. “You’re very talented.”

  “Why? Because I’m exceptionally limber and know how to keep a beat?”

  She squeaked with surprise when he tweaked one of her nipples through her sweater and smirked.

  “I barely noticed the bendy stuff, thanks to your bouncing boobs. Did you know they swing in a rhythm?”

  “A good bra would stop that.” Summer giggled. “But, of course, I already ditched mine.”

  His eyes smoldered, and she had her very first encounter with lust. Pure, raw, in-your-face, heart-thumping, panty-melting lust.

  “Have you any idea how much control it’s taking to keep my hands to myself?”

  Summer smiled and shook her boobs. He laughed and raised one brow.

  She said, “And have you any idea how hard it is to remain dignified when all I want is you to put your hands under my sweater?”

  “Yeah,” he grunted playfully. “I got that part. No regrets for going all the way.”

  He fondled her boobs, and dammit if she didn’t watch and moan.

  In a deep and husky voice, he said, “I like the expression, by the
way. Going all the way. Kind of old-school. Crude isn’t always sexy.”

  The fire in his crystal blue eyes drew her in. She couldn’t look away—didn’t want to. When she stared into his gaze, everything else blurred. The powerful pull of his force field made her quiver.

  Something changed in his expression. The breath caught in her chest as she hung on the moment.

  “I know this doesn’t make sense,” he murmured in a tone so gentle it made her want to cry. “But I need to say something.”

  “What?”

  He brushed her hair behind her shoulders and stroked his big hands up and down her arms.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  Trembling, she responded automatically. “As in, we’ve done this before?”

  “Yes,” he growled. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

  A curtain parted inside her, and she saw things that shouldn’t make sense but did. She and the big blond man had done this dance in other times and different lives. It was crazy thinking but felt familiar and comforting.

  “I feel like I know you in ways that confuse me,” she admitted in a hushed and uncertain voice. “I don’t do crazy things. Acting rashly isn’t how I live, yet all of this feels.” She bit her lip and looked away with a wince. “Fated.” She shrugged. “There’s no other way to explain it.”

  He raised his hands and closed his eyes. Without looking and never touching her, Arnie traced her head and shoulders. The path of his non-touch left a tingling sensation. This was a different kind of awareness.

  Her eyes closed. She whimpered softly. Goose bumps gathered on her neck, and her nipples tightened.

  “You have magic hands,” she moaned.

  “I can feel your energy, Summer. Your life force.” His eyes opened, and she froze when his gaze snared hers. “And you very much want me to bite your nipples.”

  Holy shit. Could he read her that well? Did he have special powers that let him see her desires?

  Her impish, playful side took over. Whatever virginal awkwardness was left, if it even existed in the first place, was swept aside when she smirked and flashed him by lifting the hem of her sweater.