Denver is quiet as we’re packing my belongings. Every once in a while, he pulls out his phone and sends a text. I begin to think that despite his honorable efforts, he might just be getting sick of coming to my rescue. Maybe he’s texting Nora. And I can’t help but wonder if she gets mad at all the time he spends with me. I know I would if I were her.
Suddenly, he stops packing and sits on the bed. “Where will you go?” he asks.
“I, uh … I hadn’t really gotten that far.”
“Stay with me,” he says. “Just until you figure out what you want to do.”
“With you?” I ask. “In your sister’s townhouse? That’s a huge imposition, Denver.”
“It’s a huge townhouse,” he says. “Aspen and Sawyer are hardly ever there.”
“I don’t know. I mean, they don’t even know me. And it’s not like I can’t afford to go to a hotel.”
“You don’t want to stay in a hotel, Sara. Besides, they have a basement that would serve as a great art studio.”
I’ve been to their townhouse before, but I never made it past the first floor. “They do?”
He nods encouragingly.
I think of how difficult it would be to paint while staying in a hotel. It would be nice to be able to paint while I look for a new place.
“Still, it’s not your place to offer,” I say.
“They already said it’s okay,” he tells me. He holds out his phone. “Want to see?”
It dawns on me that the whole time we were packing, he wasn’t texting Nora; he was texting his sister.
I want to say yes. I want to say yes so badly. But I’m not sure I should.
Denver grabs my hand and pulls me down next to him. “Say yes.”
“What about Nora?” I ask. “I have a hard time believing she’d be okay with it. Did you ask her?”
“I’m not with Nora.”
My surprised eyes snap to his. “You’re not? Since when?”
“A few weeks now.”
A few weeks? I wonder why he never said anything. “When you and I … in the studio.”
He shakes his head. “I broke it off before then.”
“Why?”
Denver lets go of my hand and gets off the bed, pacing around the room. “I didn’t send those screenshots just for you,” he says nervously. “I selfishly did it for me, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean …” He runs his hands through his hair. “I mean I’m in love with you, Sara. I’ve been in love with you for months. I tried to deny it because you were engaged. I tried to stop myself from feeling that way by dating another woman. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m glad Oliver is a conniving back-stabbing prick. Because if he weren’t, you’d be over in London with him. I can’t tell you how relieved I was last night when I was listening to your conversation and found out you two hadn’t been together yet. Do you know how hard it’s been for me, thinking you’ve been in his bed all this time? And I’m not sure if this changes things. Maybe you won’t want to stay with me now. Maybe you don’t want me at all. But I’ve never felt a connection to another woman the way I feel it with you.” He stops pacing and sits on the chair in the corner. “I’m a rambling idiot. Say something.”
“I …” My mind is still trying to absorb everything he said. He’s not with Nora. He loves me. Me! “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“You’d been through so much. I didn’t think it was fair to put you in that position. And I didn’t want to stand in the way of your happiness.”
“My happiness?” I stand up, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Denver, you are my happiness.”
“I am?”
The way he’s looking at me, it’s like he’s just been told he won the lottery. He pushes himself up out of the chair and strides over to me, brushing a hair out of my eyes. Then he stares at me. He stares into me. And I tell him everything he needs to know without uttering any words at all.
“Sara,” he says, just before his lips collide with mine.
We’ve shared two kisses in the past few months. Stolen kisses. Forbidden kisses. But this one—this one is different. Because we’re free to be with each other. There is no guilt. No shame. No wondering what the other is thinking or feeling. This kiss is the answer to all the questions I’ve asked myself.
I knew I wanted him. Deep down, I knew I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything. And I thought maybe he wanted me, too. But we both had other commitments. There were other people to think about.
But now, as I stand here kissing him, I know what fools we’ve been. We denied our feelings for each other. We blindly went along with Oliver’s lies.
I push the thought of Oliver out of my head, not letting him steal another moment from me. I get lost in Denver’s arms as he kisses me until we’re both gasping for air. He pushes me back and we fall onto my bed. I can feel his erection pressing into me. I groan beneath him as his lips devour my neck, my collarbone, the bare skin above the V of my shirt. I want him so badly my body is humming with anticipation. I want him to rip my clothes off and make love to me.
But then I remember where we are.
I pull away. “Not here. Not where I laid next to him.”
Denver looks at the bed with disgust. “Right. Not here.” He rolls off me and props up on an elbow. “About the townhouse? What do you say? Will you stay with me until we get you settled somewhere else? No pressure. I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. I’ll sleep on the couch in the basement.”
I put a hand on his chest and then rest my head on it. Then I look up at him with sultry eyes. “Nobody is sleeping on the couch, Denver.”
A slow smile creeps up his face. “Really?”
I nod. “Really.”
“Well, damn, let’s finish getting you packed, then.” He gently pushes me off him and hops out of bed.
I laugh at his eagerness. And for the next hour, as we pack up the rest of my clothes and then my studio, we share heated glances.
I can’t wipe the smile off my face. I can’t remember a time when I was as happy as I am right now. And when I lock up my apartment for the very last time, I don’t look back. I promise myself never to look back again. Only forward. Because like Denver said—the past is the past.
And I know for certain that the man standing next to me is my future.
Chapter Thirty-one
The last box barely even touches the floor before I’m back in Denver’s arms. We don’t bother unpacking. We don’t waste another minute on anything.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” he asks between kisses.
“Yes,” I answer breathily. “Because I’ve waited just as long.”
He cups my face, looking down at me. “Have you really?”
I nod. “It’s always been you, Denver. But I was trying to fit back into the life everyone was telling me I had. The doctors. Joelle. Oliver. You. Everyone knew more about my life than I did. And I found myself becoming a person I didn’t know. I was an actress playing a part. None of it felt real except when I was with you.”
He kisses me again, harder this time. I sink deeper into his arms, wanting nothing between us. One of his hands threads through my hair while the other explores the small of my back. I moan when I feel his erection pressing into me.
“God, I want you,” he says.
“I want you, too.”
He studies me, gauging the truth in my words. “Are you sure, Sara? Because I can wait.”
“I think we’ve both waited long enough. Now pick me up and take me to bed, fireman.”
A brilliant smile overtakes his face. “Gladly,” he says as he sweeps me into his arms.
He carries me up the stairs and to his bedroom—the bedroom I’m going to share with him until I find another place. As soon as we cross the threshold, I’m assaulted with the heady smell I’ve grown to love. His clothes. His cologne. Him.
He places me on the bed, removes our shoes, and th
en climbs over me, hovering like he’s awaiting an invitation. I pull him down on top of me, needing his body against me, needing his lips on mine. He doesn’t disappoint me as he kisses me again. He kisses me with so much passion it makes my heart thunder. I’ve never felt this way before. Being in Denver’s arms is the only thing that makes sense to me anymore.
He runs a finger over the scar from my trach. Then he kisses it. “A reminder of how strong you are.”
My eyes mist up. Oliver never kissed my scar. He bought me scarves to cover it up.
Denver traces the edges of the birthmark by my left ear. “A reminder of how unique you are.”
I stare into his eyes. This man. My heart is exploding with emotion.
He rolls off onto his side and brings a hand up to palm one of my breasts through my shirt, groaning in appreciation. I run my hand along his strong bicep and then down to his denim-covered hip.
He fondles the hem of my t-shirt. “I’d very much like to remove this,” he says.
I tug on the seam of his jeans. “And me—these.”
My insides are quivering at the thought of what’s about to happen. It’s still daylight outside and his bedroom is bright. We’re about to see each other completely naked for the first time. Normally, that might make me self-conscious. But not with Denver. Because he makes me feel anything but self-conscious. He makes me feel like my imperfections aren’t imperfections at all. He makes me feel like the only woman on earth. Better—he makes me feel like the only woman on earth for him.
He sits up and reaches behind his neck, pulling his shirt up and over his head. Then he removes mine, staring at my bare breasts. In my haste to leave Oliver’s house last night, I didn’t have time to put on a bra. Not that it matters much; it’s not like I’m hugely endowed. But Denver looks at me like I’m the hottest centerfold he’s ever laid eyes on.
“You’re gorgeous,” he says, just before his mouth finds my chest.
He teases my nipples with his tongue as I squirm and buck my hips off the bed. I rub his erection through his jeans, wanting to feel him with nothing between us. I fumble with the button before he comes to my rescue and does it for me. He quickly removes his jeans and boxers in one fell swoop, giving me the first glorious look at him.
I can’t tear my eyes away from his manhood as it twitches in anticipation. I reach out and take him into my hand, fulfilling all the secret fantasies I’ve had about him over the past few months. I can’t believe I’m here, in his bed, touching him.
“God … Sara,” he says as I run my hand up and down his silky-smooth hardness.
He lets me work on him for a minute, but then he pushes my hand away. “You keep that up and this will be over far too soon.”
I giggle into his shoulder, loving how he’s affected by me.
He unbuttons my pants and then slowly, methodically peels them down my legs. He looks up at me. “I want to remember every second of this. Because I’ll only get to see you for the first time once in my life.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever heard more romantic words. Tears cloud my vision and I squeeze my eyes shut, causing droplets to fall down the sides of my face.
Once my jeans are off, he runs a finger under the elastic of my panties from hipbone to hipbone. His tactile perusal is driving me insane. He hasn’t even touched me down there and I’m about to explode.
He shimmies my panties off and then sits back on his haunches, studying me. Appreciating me.
“Sara, this is”—he shakes his head in disbelief—“this is every fantasy I’ve ever had. Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed about having you in my bed?”
“Me too,” I say.
“Now that it’s happening, I can’t even believe it.”
I smile up at him. “Believe it, Denver. I’m yours.”
Oh, God—did I really just say that? I throw an embarrassed arm over my face.
He removes my arm. “Say it again, Sara.”
Heat flushes my entire body. “I’m yours.”
His eyes close for a brief second. When they open, he becomes an animal devouring his prey. His hands are everywhere on me. His fingers find all the right places. His mouth touches just the perfect spots. I’m putty beneath him, melting under his expert manipulation.
His fingers push into me as his tongue circles my clit. I buck beneath him at the exquisite feeling that’s overtaking me. “Denver!” I shout when my insides tighten and my body shakes as I ride out the waves of pleasure coursing through me.
I let out a long, slow breath, my head sinking back into the pillow. “Wow,” I say.
He climbs up my body. “You can say that again. That was incredible.” I feel his wet lips on my neck. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
I smile at his proclamation. I let my hands wander below his waist once again. He’s hard as steel, throbbing in my hands. He reaches over the side of the bed and opens a drawer, grabbing a condom. He shows it to me with a question in his eyes. Even after what we just shared, he’s still asking permission.
“Yes,” I say.
He wastes no time ripping open the square package and rolling it on. Then he hovers over me. I can feel him at my entrance. He looks down into my eyes and I swear I can remember. I can remember the first time he looked at me. The first time his eyes burned into mine. And somehow, I know this man will always be there for me. He will always make me feel this safe. This protected. This loved.
Our eyes remain locked on each other as he pushes into me. The urge to close my eyes is strong at the feel of him inching inside. But I keep my focus on him, needing to share this moment, needing to remember this moment for as long as I live. Because if I never remember any other moments, if this is the only one I get to keep, I’d still die a happy woman.
“Sara,” he moans into my shoulder as he makes love to me.
I reach around him and run my hands across his strong arms, down his muscular back, over the taut globes of his ass. I grab him and push him deeper inside me.
His rhythmic movements, his groans, his whispered declarations—they all have me building back up and writhing underneath him. I start to shake, feeling another powerful orgasm crash down on me. I scream into his shoulder and then I feel him stiffen as he leans down and shouts into mine.
He collapses down onto me, trying his best to keep most of his weight off my body. But he’s languid and spent. I’m loopy and satiated.
“Damn,” he says.
I start laughing under him. He joins me.
He rolls off me and rises up on an elbow. “Now that was worth waiting for.” He takes a lock of my hair into his hand, playing with it. “I meant what I said earlier. I love you, Sara.”
Tears fill my eyes once again. “I’m not sure about much of anything in my life. My past, my future. But the one thing I’m sure of is you. I love you, too, Denver.”
He leans in to kiss me. Then he pulls me against him and I lay my head on his chest, feeling sure about something for the first time in a long time.
As he removes the condom, I look at the wall next to the bed and see my painting hanging on it. Our painting. I was so focused on Denver that I didn’t notice it before. “You hung it up,” I say.
“Of course I did. It’s the most honest painting I’ve ever seen. And it tells the story of us.”
I smile, thinking my paintings can still do that—tell stories.
“I don’t think I’ll ever paint something I will love more than this one.”
“What do you think you’ll do, sweetheart? As far as painting? I know you’ll never stop doing what you love, but have you given any thought to going back to work?”
I laugh sadly. “Only every day. Oliver doesn’t think I’m ready.”
He stiffens. “Oliver is an asshole.”
“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong about my painting.”
“He’s wrong,” Denver says with conviction. “Just look, Sara.” He points to the wall with the painting. “You did that. It’s incred
ible.”
“I think you might be a little biased.”
“I’m not. I took it into Davis’s gallery.”
I lift my head off his chest. “You did?”
“I wasn’t going to sell it,” he says. “I’d never sell it. But I wanted to know what he thought about it.”
I close my eyes. “And?”
“And he offered me ten thousand dollars on the spot.”
My eyes fly open and my heart races. “He what?”
Denver nods. “You are so talented, Sara. In so many ways. You can do anything. You can be anyone. Your life is a clean slate just waiting to be written upon.”
“What if I say I want you in that story?”
He kisses my forehead. “I’d say I’m a damn lucky man.”
I put my head back on his chest, content to be exactly where I am. “I still want to paint. And I like the idea of other people having my paintings on their walls. But not like before. I don’t want to travel so much.” I trace the edges of his abs, pondering something I’ve been thinking about for a while now. “Do you think I could still do what I do without traveling?”
“Are you kidding me? Remember the painting you did of me and my family in the snow? You did that from a simple story—a story you didn’t even recall hearing. But the details were spot on. You have this incredible ability to see what people have experienced and bring it to life. You didn’t need to go to a mountain and stand in a blizzard to paint that picture.”
I nod, hoping he’s right. I don’t want to live my life going from one time zone to the next, taking sleeping pills to help me cope. And perhaps I can do different kinds of paintings. Who says I have to keep painting people’s memories?
“One thing’s for sure—I don’t want to have anything to do with Oliver Compton.”
I feel him tense beneath me. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker when I see him again.”
“No. Don’t. I don’t want you to jeopardize your job or your future over me.”
“You are my future, Sara.”
“I wish I had my phone with me so I could video you saying that.”
The Men On Fire: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 54
