by Ann Charles
“I’m not mad.”
“What then?”
He hesitated. I got the feeling he was weighing his words in his head. “Violet, you’re a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need anyone. You’ve made that clear through words and actions.”
I winced at how that sounded, apprehensive about what he would say next.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I can’t stop this need I have to protect you.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t so bad.
“I was trying to give you some space tonight and not do what I really wanted to do.”
“Which was?”
“Throw you over my shoulder, haul you back here, and lock you in my bedroom to keep you safe.”
I chuckled, relieved. “Holding my hand would have been nice. Even better—a hug, or several.”
“Duly noted.”
Taking another step, I closed the gap between us. “You know, I have many different kinds of needs.” I placed my hands on his chest, feeling his heart under my palm, waiting for a couple of beats to see if he’d pull away. When he didn’t, I added. “And right now, I really need you.”
His eyes darkened, the heat in his gaze encouraging me. “What kind of need are we talking about here?”
I dragged my nails down his shirt, letting them bump over the textured thermal. “I need you to help me in the shower.”
“The shower?”
“That soap gets soooo slippery.”
One eyebrow rose slightly. “Is that right?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Sliding my fingers back up over his broad shoulders, I circled my arms around his neck. I smiled at him, trying to look flirty and sexy, but with my makeup and hair such a mess, I probably looked just this side of deranged. I locked my fingers behind his neck and willed him to look past my scary face to the real me—well, the real me when I had combed hair and not-so-garish makeup.
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed the underside of his jaw, trailing my lips along the scratchy stubble down to his collar bone, which I bit through the fabric. “And when we’re done in the shower, I need you to take me to bed. Your bed.”
When he didn’t move a muscle in response, I pressed against him, checking to see if my seduction attempts were having any affect at all.
“I know what you’re doing, Boots,” Doc said, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me even closer.
That was more like it. “What am I doing?”
“Distracting me.”
“Maybe I’m distracting me. I had a rotten day, one that I’d like to forget about for a while.” I pulled his mouth down to mine and ran the tip of my tongue over his lower lip, then sucked on it lightly, dipping into his mouth for a lick … or three. “If you think you’re up to the task.”
His fingers delved into the hair at the back of my head, holding me still as he took his time kissing me back. His touch was so soft and smooth, unlike the rest of his body. He savored one kiss at a time, his breath quickening with each. My body ached and throbbed for so much more.
“Christ, Violet,” he said against my mouth. “You smell like steak and taste like beer.” One of his hands slid down to my breast. “It’s intoxicating.”
“I want to smell like you.” I rubbed my palm over his stomach, heading south. “And taste like sex. Take my clothes off, Doc.”
He stopped my hand. “Not here. There’s something I’ve wanted to see since you stripped in front of me at your aunt’s house.” He pulled me up the narrow set of dark stairs that led from the kitchen up to his bedroom. He didn’t stop until he’d locked us in his master bathroom. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked, leaning back against the door.
I took off my shirt and threw it at him. He caught it, his gaze sliding to my chest.
“What’s next?” I asked.
He pointed at my shoes and socks. When I stood there barefoot in front of him, he said, “More,” while still clutching my shirt.
Unbuttoning my jeans, I shimmied them down over my hips. Seeds of insecurity started to grow. I crossed my arms over my pale pink lace bra and white satin underwear, covering as much of my post-pregnancy stomach as possible.
“Don’t,” he ordered. “Let me see all of you.”
I obeyed, uncrossing my arms, unsure what to do with my hands.
“Damn,” he said. His gaze ate me up, making heated promises, inciting me to do whatever he said so long as it ended with him touching me.
“Don’t move,” he said and slid past me to the shower, turning on the tap, checking the water temperature. Then he dropped my shirt on the counter and took my hand, leading me to the tub’s edge. He drew back the shower curtain. “Get in.”
I frowned, hesitating. “My underwear will get all wet.”
He grabbed me and hauled me against him, jeans rubbing my thighs. His mouth covered mine, his palm trailing down the side of my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple through my bra. He traced the outline of my hip and then his hand slid inside the waist of my panties. As his tongue flicked mine, his fingers brushed over me, exploring.
He pulled back slightly, his mouth moving to my ear. “They already are wet, Boots,” he whispered. Then he pulled away long before I was ready for him to and stepped back, pointing at the tub. “Get in.”
I stepped gingerly, my legs feeling wobbly all of a sudden, and held onto the bar on the long wall of the tub. “You’re not going to turn into Norman Bates on me, right?” When he just stared at me, I added, “Or Prudence again?”
“Cute. Get under the water,” he ordered. “All the way,” he added when I took my time about it.
I reached down and cranked up the heat of the spray, and then closed my eyes and stepped in, letting the water rinse away today’s frustrations. I tipped my chin up, pushing my hair back, washing away what was left of the clown makeup.
“Turn around,” he said from behind me, where I knew he stood watching through the curtain opening.
Rubbing the water from my eyes, I faced him, the spray hitting the back of my head and cascading down my shoulders.
His face was taut with a mix of what looked like pain and pleasure. I looked down. My bra and underwear clung to my skin, transparent.
Oh, now I got it.
And now I’d get him.
Reaching down, I traced my breast through the wet cloth, imagining his hands on me, touching and pinching like I’d like him to. I glanced up at him from under my eyelashes and bit my lip at the lust darkening his cheeks. His eyes were locked on my hands, his mouth open. I grabbed the soap and started lathering through my bra.
He gasped, bending forward a bit like I’d punched him in the gut.
I moved the soap lower, circling my stomach and continuing south over my satin panties and down over my thighs and knees. I dragged the soap back up between my thighs and purposely let it slip from my fingers as I reached the apex. It clunked in the tub bottom and slid down by the drain.
Doc got all choked up, coughing and gasping a couple of times like he’d swallowed his tongue.
“See what I mean,” I told Doc when he caught his breath. I leaned back to let the water cascade down over my breasts and stomach. “It’s just soooo slippery.”
He grunted. Tearing the curtain open, he shut off the water, and then threw me over his shoulder.
“Wait!” I said, slapping his butt through his jeans. “I need to finish rinsing off.”
“We’ll do that later.” He tossed me onto his bed.
I landed on my back and pushed up on my elbows. “I’m getting your bed all wet.”
“Yep.” He tore off his shirt and shoved down his jeans and briefs.
I stared unabashedly and reached to push down my underwear.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he caught my hand, then snagged the other and held them over my head with one of his, lying next to me on the bed. “I’m not done yet.”
His fingers circled down over my breast, first one and then the other. He leaned down and blew on the we
t lace, making me shiver and harden. He looked up at me. “So damned hot.”
Then his fingers continued down over my stomach, the front of my underwear, and my thigh, hovering over my kneecap, following my path with the soap. I arched up, wanting so much more. “Doc, please.”
“Patience, Boots.”
My eyelids dropped, anticipation for where he’d touch next had me burning from the inside out. “Hurry up.”
His hand slid to the inside of my knee, swirling slowly up my inner thigh. I opened wider to him, tipping my head back, closing my eyes.
The brush of his knuckles over my underwear nearly sent me over the edge. I tried to move closer to his hand, but he held me in place with his lock on my wrists.
He brushed again through the wet fabric.
I moaned and writhed.
“Tell me what you need, Violet,” he whispered in my ear then sucked on my earlobe, grazing it with his teeth.
His fingers stroked once. Just once. It took my breath away.
I was beyond primed and he knew it. “You know what I need.”
His fingers ran along the inside of the elastic edge, feathering along the tender, sensitive skin. “Say it.”
“I’m going to make you pay for this, Doc.”
“That’s not it.” His fingertips strummed over the outside of my underwear. “You know what I want to hear.”
“I want you inside of me now,” I said, ending it with a growl.
“I like that better, but it’s still not what I want to hear.”
He leaned down and bit me through the front of my bra, then sucked where he bit, his fingers still teasing, tickling, staying just out of reach.
Game over. I licked my lips. “Doc.”
He looked up at me with one raised brow. The bead of sweat on his upper lip gave away his own internal struggle. “What, Violet?”
I love you, I thought, and opened my mouth, hesitating.
He watched my lips. “Say it.”
“I need you,” I said, chickening out.
Letting go of my wrists, his hand cupped my jaw. “I need you, too.” His mouth covered mine, his body rolling on top of me.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pushing against him, squeezing him tightly as I rubbed along his length.
“Violet,” he said between kisses. “I want to taste you.”
“Later.” Scrambling half out of my panties, I reached down and grabbed him, positioning him, and then used my ankles to pull him close, helping him slam into me. The friction alone made me arch off the bed. “Yes!” I gasped.
He slid out and shoved all of the way in again. And again. That was all it took. The shudders started deep inside, and wrung me out from limb to limb.
Doc kept moving through it all, whispering in my ear about how much he needed me; how much he loved watching me while he was inside of me.
When I finally stilled, I looked up at him, my heart in my eyes. I couldn’t help it.
He stared down at me for a moment, slowing, his dark gaze locked onto mine.
“Violet,” he whispered, and picked up the pace, moving faster, pushing harder until he froze several strokes later, his arms covered with goosebumps as a deep groan crawled up from his chest. Then he collapsed on me and rolled us to the side so I wasn’t trapped under him.
We lay there in silence for a bit, his face buried in my neck, my hand stroking his back. Something had changed between us. Maybe it was just me, but that had been different, more potent. Sex with Doc was always thrilling, but this time it had knocked me for a loop. My brain was still stumbling around, uncertain which way was up or down.
Doc moved, shifting closer, not leaving me yet. “Violet?” He kissed my neck, making me smile at the shadowy ceiling.
“Yes?”
“You taste like soap.”
I laughed. “That’s your fault. You didn’t let me finish rinsing off.”
He lifted his head, his eyes still dark with passion. “I didn’t expect you to get all soapy.”
“What did you expect?”
“I just wanted to see you standing there all wet in your underwear.”
“I improvised.”
“You did more than that.” He leaned down and kissed my lips, teasing my tongue with his. When I teased back, I felt him begin to stir inside of me.
“You inspire me,” I told him.
He ran his finger down my cheek, tenderly skimming Caly’s scratch. “And you scare the hell out of me.”
“That’s kind of hard on my self-confidence.”
He chuckled. “I’m talking about what almost happened to you at the opera house. When Cooper called, telling me you’d texted and might be in danger, asking if I had a clue where to find you, that scared the hell out of me.”
“I dropped my phone in the toilet before I could tell him where I was.”
Tipping my chin toward him, he squinted at me. “I know you don’t think you need any protection, but could you do me a favor and just let me try to keep you safe anyway? It will help keep me sane.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“You need to do something for me.”
“Not talk to Cooper?” he asked.
I thought about that for a moment, weighing what had happened tonight and whether Cooper could help find Caly, who I suspected was going to want revenge if I really did destroy her arm. She didn’t seem like the forgive-and-forget type.
“No, I think I see your point with Cooper. Not that I’m thrilled about spending any more time in his company.” I grabbed Doc’s hand and kissed his knuckles. They smelled soapy. “I want you to start coming over a couple of times a week for dinner with my family.”
“Your whole family?
I nodded. “And Harvey.”
“As your friend?”
“No. As my boyfriend.”
“Your kids?”
“They’ll know the truth.”
He nodded, all furrowed brow. Then a grin split his face. “You mean about how I like to watch their mom take a shower?”
Chuckling, I grabbed him by the hips and pulled him closer, adjusting to accommodate more of him. “You know, I never figured you for a watcher. You seem more like the doer personality.”
“Oh, I’m a doer.” He extracted himself from me, standing and hauling me up by the arm. I stood on the bed, smiling down at him. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the shower. You need to finish rinsing off so I don’t get soap in my mouth when I do-’er again in the shower.”
I wrinkled my nose, laughing. “Oh, that was just bad.”
“No,” he scooped me up, kicking the bathroom door shut behind us. “Bad is how much you’re going to want me when I finish rubbing you down with that slippery soap you keep whining about.” He lowered my feet to the floor and turned on the water, and then unhooked my bra. “Let’s try this again without your clothes on.”
I let the bra fall to the floor and tugged him into the shower with me. “Or yours,” I said and closed the curtain.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Thursday, September 13th
I woke up drooling. When I pulled my face out of my pillow, I understood why—someone was cooking bacon for breakfast. After hitting the bathroom, I grabbed one thing from my bedroom and headed downstairs to eat and face the music.
Harvey stood at the stove cooking eggs and bacon while wearing the “World’s Best Mom” apron the kids had bought me for Christmas last year in hopes that I’d be inspired to try to improve my cooking skills. I’d forgotten that I had brought it up to Deadwood with us. Most of my stuff was packed in boxes and sitting in a storage unit in Rapid until we landed somewhere more permanent.
At the table, Aunt Zoe was eating with two sullen faced children—mine. I’d spilled the beans about Doc being my boyfriend to Addy and Layne last night, and just as I’d feared, it had resulted in a lot of anxious questions and angry accusations. I’d expected all of this from La
yne, since it threatened his self-assigned man-of-the-house status, but Addy’s explosive reaction had left me gape-mouthed. I thought she’d be pleased. She’d seemed to like Doc from the start. I hadn’t counted on her determination to expand our family with a husband, sister, and baby brother all with the last name of Wymonds.
Pasting a smile on my face, I stepped into the kitchen. “Morning,” I said, trying to sound chipper.
Layne shoved his chair away from the table. “May I be excused?” he asked Aunt Zoe.
She looked at me, her forehead lined. I nodded to her.
“Sure, kiddo,” she said. “Put your plate in the sink.”
I tried to ruffle Layne’s hair as he passed, but he jerked away from my hand, the little brat. I watched his retreating back, his shoulders stiff.
Why did everything in my life have to be so damned hard? All I wanted was a chance for us to see whether this thing I had going with Doc had long-range potential. At this rate, we’d scare him away by Halloween.
Alrighty then, one down, one to go. I looked back toward the table and ran smack dab into Addy’s brown-eyed glare.
“Oh, come on,” I said to her. “I’ve told you all along that I was not going to marry Jeff Wymonds.”
Addy stood, her expression pinched and accusing. “You didn’t even let him try out.”
“Hey, I kissed him once, if you’ll remember.” Technically, he’d shoved his tongue in my mouth for several seconds, and when he’d finished licking my back molars he’d attempted to woo me with words about his plow and his desire to plant his seeds in my fertile field. It was one of those romantic moments they showed on engagement ring commercials that I’d not forget anytime soon. “Besides, dating me isn’t a sport, Adelynn. There are no tryouts.”
“I wanted a sister!”
“You have a brother.”
She stomped over to me, leading with her chin. “He stinks,” she counted off on her fingers, “he won’t play dress-up-the-chicken with me, he’s afraid of snakes, and he sucker punches me in the gut when you’re not looking.”
“All boys stink,” I told her. “Get used to it.” Wait until she hit high school and was surrounded by guys who’d just come from gym class.
