by Zoe York
He leaned closer, breathing her in, and his chest ached at what was so close and so impossibly off-limits. If only everything was different. If only something was different. All it would take is one factor to shift. If she stayed in town. If he could travel more. If Megan was older. If he had more flexibility with Susan. Even after today’s meeting, even without the specter of a custody dispute hanging over him, he needed to stay focused.
As easy as it would be to lose himself in her, that wouldn’t be fair to either of them. He kissed her on the cheek and pulled back, letting her hand go at the same time. Letting her go, and in the process, finding a way to be close again.
“How about, the next night I have free, we go to Danny’s. Hold your head up high and celebrate your new adventure.”
“You’d meet me there?” The smile was bigger this time.
“I’d walk you to and from if it guaranteed you’d always be with a friend.”
She leaned back and let out a little laughing noise. After all they’d been through, and almost been through, that’s what they’d end up being—friends.
It could be worse.
It could be so much better.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dale’s petition was still being circulated, but it had been banned from Danny’s, and Bun, and Mrs. Wilkins had started stopping people on the street and telling them to mind their own business about what happened to the store, which was irony of the highest order, but Karen appreciated the support.
The first time she met Paul at Danny’s as friends had been hard, but he was there when she arrived, and he walked her home. A few days later, he sent a text message asking if she wanted to meet at Danny’s again, this time for trivia night. Again, he walked her home.
It was delicious agony spending time with him in an outwardly platonic way. Inside her head, they were having sex almost constantly, and she was pretty sure he knew that, but they didn’t so much as bump elbows when out and about or brush arms on the walks home. No more kisses, however chaste, and no more handholding.
Instead, they talked. About Megan, and Karen’s options for school, and Wardham. She gave him tips for the best apple orchards and fall fairs, and they talked about catching up over Thanksgiving. He even helped her put up signs about renting out her house.
She’d mended her relationship with Carrie, but it was Paul who’d surprisingly become the person she turned to first for almost everything in her life. And still they didn’t touch. They didn’t dare, as if they both knew their friendship was too precarious to survive temptation.
The terms of their new relationship seemed generous with respect to time of day. She’d woken up early one morning, only to have her cell phone go off five minutes later. Paul had just arrived home from a night shift and noticed her light on. They talked for a few minutes before he went to bed, but it was enough of a precedent that when she came home from a trip to Toronto one night in late June, and his light was on, she thought about knocking on his door.
But they hadn’t crossed that boundary again. Hadn’t spent time together in either of their homes. Like they both knew that would be asking too much.
So instead she pulled out her phone. He picked up right away, and she smiled at his warm greeting.
“I just got back. It went well. I found a couple of apartment options and visited the school. Did some shopping, had sushi for dinner.” She opened her car door, pausing for a moment to give Hermoine a loving pat. They’d avoided rush hour neatly, and the drive home had been fun. Lee Brice on the stereo, windows down…she wouldn’t mind being in the city if all trips home were that easy. It would be hard in the winter, but it would be worth it to see—
She froze beside her car as the realization that she was still hung up on Paul slammed into her chest. Crap on a stick. Yes, he still fueled her fantasies, but that’s all they were. All they could be. She wasn’t going to come home to see him. Her family, sure. But she’d never have that thought about Carrie or Evie.
“Karen?” He’d been talking in her ear, but it wasn’t until he repeated her name that she tuned back in.
“I’m sorry, I was just thinking about—I have to go.” She hung up, but that didn’t stop him from opening his back door.
He stood there in a black t-shirt and faded blue jeans, barefoot and backlit by his kitchen, and she waved. What else could she do?
“What’s going on?” He flicked the light off and closed up his house before jogging down the stairs toward her. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day. I’m going to go inside.”
He grinned and gestured at her heels. “Right, you hate the fancy clothes.”
At the reminder of what happened the last time she had put on, and then taken off, a skirt and blouse, she flushed and turned. “Night, Paul.”
“I didn’t mean…ah crap, Karen, I’m sorry.” She climbed the steps to her back deck before pausing. But she didn’t turn around. She didn’t know what she might say or do if she did. His footsteps were light and cautious. She felt him stop not far behind her. “I’m going to put my foot in my mouth sometimes.”
“I’m not offended,” she whispered.
“Then don’t run away. I’ll grab some beers, we can sit on the deck and you can tell me more about shopping.”
She let out a laugh despite herself and did a quarter turn to glance at him. “You want to hear about shopping?”
He shrugged. “I like spending time with you.”
She turned around fully, and opened her mouth to accept his offer, when his gaze dropped to her chest. It was just for a second before he glanced down and away, but it was enough.
“You know what? I have a better idea.” She stepped toward him and pressed her palms to his hard chest. Oh god, the feel of him under her skin. She’d never get enough of that, but one night would have to do. “I think we should talk more about the last time I wore a skirt. I think we should do more than talk about it.”
He drew in a ragged breath and brought his hands up to hers. “That’s not a good idea.”
“And yet you aren’t pushing me away.” She forced her voice to stay light. Hopefully inviting, and not needy. She wasn’t begging for anything, but she wanted to get this pulsing desire out of her system.
“Because I’m not a good man, Karen.” He squeezed her wrists, then stroked his hands up her arms.
“You’re a cop.”
“One doesn’t have anything to do with the other.”
“You’re a good man.”
“I wasn’t a good husband.”
“I’m not looking for a husband.”
“I’m not a good boyfriend.”
She took a step back. “I’m not sure why we’re having this conversation then.”
He swallowed hard. It was what he wanted, but pushing her away still felt like a sucker punch to the gut. “Exactl—”
“—because,” she continued, trailing her fingers up her middle until she was toying with the top button on her shirt. “I’m not looking for anything beyond tonight.”
Darkness had descended, but they were still outside. And she was, one button at a time, revealing a strip of skin bisected by a black lace bra. He couldn’t tear his eyes back to her face for anything in the world. And didn’t that just prove his point? So he closed them instead. “You should be.”
“Why?”
He couldn’t exactly say. He blinked in surprise, refocusing his gaze on her face. “Because you deserve a good man.”
That was the wrong answer, clearly, because her fingers flew back up the front of her blouse, cutting off the previously extended invitation. Modesty restored, Karen settled her hands on her hips and pinned him in place with a blazing stare.
“Really.” She bit out the words. “Tell me more about how my life is empty without a good man.”
When she put it like that, it didn’t sound quite right. “That’s not...”
“Yes, it is. You said it. Own it.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face and up into his hair. “Damn. I’m just trying to do the right thing here. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her face softened, but her posture didn’t change. She was tough, even when she liked him. Which was more often than he deserved. “Do you think that I can’t protect myself? That one night with you will forever ruin me for other men?”
He winced. He hoped she’d misread his expression as contrition, an acknowledgement that he was a buffoon, but he was dumb and she was smart, so there was little chance of that happening.
“Because that’s what you just suggested.” Her voice dropped a register as she shifted closer. “Instead of inviting you in tonight to do…things, you think I should find someone else to warm my bed. Permanently. Someone nice. A good man—”
He hauled her hard against his body, driving one hand into her hair as the other wrapped tightly around her waist. “Enough,” he rasped. “Stop.”
She shook her head slowly, her gaze never leaving his. “No. You don’t get to push me away without acknowledging what that means.”
“So that wasn’t your principles talking? You just wanted to goad me into losing control?” He slanted his face just above hers. “Because I can do that. But neither of us is going to like me much in the morning.”
“I don’t like you much right now,” she whispered, but her face was still soft.
He cursed under his breath. “And I like you too much for my own good.”
She laughed softly and arched in his arms. “One night, Paul. Let’s get this tension between us out of our systems. Nothing will change. I’m still moving to Toronto. We’ll still be friends. But I won’t always be wondering…”
She trailed off, and he growled. No way was she leaving that left unsaid. “Wondering what, darlin’?”
He loved the way she blushed. “Uhm.” She sucked in a breath, and let the next words spill out in a lusty pile. “If you’re as good in person as you are on the phone.”
That was a challenge he was more than up for. He nudged their faces together, savouring their first kiss in almost a month with tender reverence. If they only had tonight, he was taking the whole night. There was no need to rush. Except Karen wasn’t on board with that plan, and as she slid her hands under his t-shirt and up his bare back, he knew he needed to move them inside.
“Do you have condoms?” he asked against her mouth.
“Mmm-hmmm. I picked up one at the health fair last week.”
He laughed hard, wrapping his arms tighter around her as she squirmed in protest.
“What’s so funny about that?”
He pulled her away from her door and toward the steps. “Come on, darlin’. We’ll take this to my place. First of all, you’ve been thinking about this for a week—”
“I have not!”
“Part of you has, clearly.” He stopped in their driveway to kiss her quickly, pulling their hips together. Karen moaned into his mouth, and he nipped her lip. “And secondly, one condom isn’t going to cut it.”
She hissed softly and he lightly slapped her ass. “Intrigued? Get inside.”
She practically ran up his steps, and since he hadn’t locked his door, was already in his kitchen when he reached her. “You have a nice place.”
“Thanks.” He nudged her from behind, and she took a deep breath as he wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her tight against his hard-on, and used the other to sweep her hair away from her neck so he could press his mouth to the juncture where it met her shoulder. He was going to enjoy discovering what made her gasp and what made her shiver. If she liked teeth, or tongue, or both.
He inhaled the scent of her skin. The faintest hint of something tropical, worn away by a long day, leaving just her. Soft and sweet and warm.
He’d almost convinced himself that this was never going to happen. A missed opportunity that he’d always wonder about. Karen, the one who got away. But tonight, she was right here, in his arms.
“Is your bedroom upstairs?” She gasped as his fingers worked the buttons at the front of her shirt.
“Mmmm. Yes. But I don’t think we’ll get there for a little bit yet.” He turned her around and kissed her again. Tonight was a gift, and he was going to give as much as he could right back. And not just her passion. She was also giving him her trust. That they could do this and go back to being friends tomorrow. He’d make sure that happened. He wasn’t going to mope over what couldn’t be. One night would never be enough, but it was all they had.
He reached down her hips and gathered the material of her skirt in his hands, slowly bunching it higher and higher until his fingertips met soft, bare skin. That simple touch, his fingers on her thighs, was sweeter and hotter than he’d imagined it would be, and without thinking about it, he deepened the kiss. His tongued stroked hard against hers, a promise of what was to come. His mouth on her pussy. His cock inside her. Stroking her to orgasm after orgasm, until she collapsed bonelessly in his bed.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and met him stroke for stroke, and the taste of her eagerness was better than anything else he’d ever experienced. He nudged her back against his kitchen table, and after cupping her sweet ass in his palms for a moment, carefully sat her on the edge.
He broke off their kiss and looked down at the space between their bodies. Her skirt was rucked up around her waist, her blouse half undone, and his erection proudly strained against his fly. “This time, darlin’, I want to see it when you spread your legs for me.”
She leaned her forehead against his and inched her long thighs apart. Tonight her underwear was black cotton, and her soft skin looked deliciously pale in comparison. He was breathing as hard as she was as he trailed one hand north from her knee. She hadn’t shaved here, and as his fingers drifted over the sparse, fine hairs, she tensed.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I don’t want to wait until we go upstairs, can I touch you now?”
“Can you?” She let out a reedy breath. “You better.”
“I’ve thought about you like this so many times.”
“Tell me about that.” Her words slipped out on a whisper.
He stepped closer, pushing his hips between her knees. “You want to hear about me fisting my cock in the shower, thinking about you writhing around on your bed?”
Her eyes dilated and she sucked her lower lip into her mouth for a second before releasing it with a wet pop. “Yes.”
“Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, so sure that you’ve got your hand wrapped around me. That you’re stroking me.”
She dropped one hand from around his neck and dragged it down his torso to his jeans, desperate to have the proof of how much he wanted her under her fingers. His cock flexed against her touch, and he groaned. “Just like that, but skin-on-skin. So hot.”
He stopped her as she went for the button. “Not yet. Soon. First I want to touch you. Lick you.” He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “Taste you.”
Her legs squeezed tight on his hips and she shivered. He stroked his thumb lightly over her core, noting with the puffed ego of a peacock that she was soft and wet beneath the cotton, and he would return there momentarily. But first, he wanted to see and feel the breasts that had been tantalizing him for months, bouncing joyfully in front of him when she was strictly hands-off. He brought his attention north to her blouse, which was pretty but needed to disappear. He slid it off, not wanting to let his brute loose just yet, then shifted his body weight, pressing Karen back until she dropped her hands to brace herself on the table. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth for a second, then trailed his mouth down her jaw and onto her neck, tipping her head back as he reached first into one bra cup, and then the other, lifting and freeing her breasts.
Twin swells, and an intoxicating valley between them. He didn’t know where to go first, so he blazed a quick trail of attention from left to right with his tongue, dipping in the middle, before pulling back for a moment to appreciate how tight an
d dark her nipples went when turned on.
“Seriously beautiful,” he muttered under his breath, but she heard him and he was glad. He latched on to the right nipple with a wide, hungry mouth, desperate to suck on her, make that pebbled flesh swell and bloom in his mouth. At the first gentle tug of suction, she squeezed her legs tighter around his hips, pulling their cores together. At the second ministration, she rocked against him, and he lifted his left hand to her other breast, teasing first the flesh and then the nipple itself with light, feathery strokes. Each touch wound her legs tighter. Each suck elicited an excited gasp and a grind against his cock.
She might get off like this.
Hell, he might get off like this.
When was the last time he came in his pants like a fifteen year old? Probably when he was fifteen. Jesus.
With a pop, he switched sides, matching the strokes of his tongue and the roll of her now puffy and pliable nipple with the increasing rhythm of their hips. The table jerked hard against the wall as she ground tight circles against his jeans, and he rocked faster against her, wanting her to get there before he was past the point of no return.
She wrenched one of her hands off the table and wrapped it around his head, holding him to her breast as she arched one final time and seized against his body, holding still for a moment before tremors took over. He eased both arms around her back and trailed his mouth back to hers, pressing sweet, wet kisses to her pulse points on the way.
Her hair was wild and damp, her eyes bright and dark at the same time, and she looked magnificent. He told her as much, over and over again, as he swept her into his arms, ignoring her protests. She wasn’t light, but he could carry her easily. Hell, he’d carry her if it wasn’t easy. He’d walk over burning coals to make sure that she was worshiped appropriately. She was a goddess, and his adoration was just beginning.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
At the top of the stairs, Paul strode into the first bedroom and placed her on a large, elevated bed. Dimly lit, with just the hall light spilling in, shadows filled most of the room, which she was fine with—now that she was coming down from her orgasm, she was a bit embarrassed about what just happened in his kitchen. His bright, for-eating in, kitchen. Oh god. She covered her face with her hands and groaned.
