by Toni Blake
Duke laughed along with her. Her brother Mike was an easy guy to misjudge—Duke had done that himself once upon a time, but then he’d found out what he was about to tell Anna. “Both your brothers are actually pretty damn good guys.”
She shifted her head on the pillow to meet his gaze and appeared more relaxed. “Oh, I know. Mike just wants to be the big brother I never had. Or haven’t had since I was five. Sometimes I think he wishes I was still a little girl because he missed so much of my life.”
Duke narrowed his gaze on her, glad he’d managed to turn the conversation back to something at least a little less heavy than her abduction. And for some reason, what she’d just said reminded him how lucky he was right now, and that maybe he was wasting his good fortune by talking so much. Hell, when had he become such a talker anyway?
“You’re definitely not a little girl, honey,” he told her, easing his hand down her body beneath the covers. His palm drifted lazily across one breast, then over the flat plane of her belly and lower, until his fingers dipped between her legs. The moisture he found there seemed to ripple up his arm and down through him, settling in his lower pelvis and turning him rapidly hard again.
And once more it hit him—how he’d never expected to feel this mutual heat, this shared sexual electricity, again. He’d been flirting before, casting a seductive grin when he’d said she wasn’t a little girl—but something caught fire inside him now that squelched any playfulness. It was need, thick and potent. Hunger. Urgency. And it instantly took him over.
In a flash, he was on her, towering over her, pinning her hands on either side of her head, their fingers interlocking. A short breath of passion escaped her as their eyes met and it was just like outside a little while ago—that perfect knowledge that they both felt exactly the same, that they were on fire for each other.
But then—aw hell. “Shit,” he murmured. “Condom.” His jeans were still downstairs.
She drew in her breath tightly at hearing the word.
And damn, he didn’t want to stop—he wanted her so much he felt like he was about to explode.
“I’m always careful,” he told her in a mere rasp, hoping to make her believe.
Her pretty brown eyes widened, searching his. “Always?”
“Always.”
“Me too,” she told him. But then she bit her lip, still looking wary, and he couldn’t blame her. “Do you promise?”
He nodded, because it was the truth. “I’m a lot of things, Anna, but I’m not a liar. And I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a woman as badly as I want you right now.”
She said nothing then, continuing only to gaze into his eyes—until her reply finally came, silently, as she parted her legs beneath him.
“You are under a very dangerous spell.”
Gaston Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera
Eight
Was she being stupid here? She didn’t know for sure, but . . . she trusted him. A revelation which somehow made it that much more powerful when he thrust back inside her, flesh to flesh, nothing between them. She squeezed his hands tighter in hers at the impact and wondered again, ever so briefly, how on earth she’d gotten here—between the sheets of her bed with Duke Dawson.
But then she quit thinking and just basked in the pleasure as he filled her with it, over and over. She cried out at each deep plunge, letting the sensations echo outward from her core. She’d missed sex, but more than that, she’d missed this connection with a man. She’d missed the rawness of it, the honesty of it, the way it put their differences on display—hard and soft, masculine and feminine. And as she’d told him, she didn’t usually have sex this quickly, so it had surprised her to discover how much she continued to feel that sense of connection with him, and how very right it seemed. Even if he was her brother’s best friend. Even if he was the wildman in the woods. But now he felt wild in a whole different way.
She didn’t know how long he moved in her, driving hard and fast, never stopping to rest—she only knew that soon thought ceased altogether and only sensation remained. She loved looking up into those piercing gray eyes, she loved the stubble on his jaw, she loved all the contours of his body against hers.
When finally his motions did slow, he released her hands from his to let his palms glide slowly, firmly down her body, over her curves in a way that echoed to her very soul. And then he kissed her, deeply. Her eyes closed and their tongues met.
And when the kiss ended a long moment later and she reopened her eyes to find his mere inches above her, meeting her gaze, she was almost shocked by the intimacy. It was something almost tangible, touchable. How do you feel this with a guy you barely know? And yet, there it was, nearly stealing her breath.
“Do you have any idea how damn beautiful you are?”
The words sizzled down through her. Lots of men had given her compliments—but something in Duke’s tone, or maybe it was, again, in his eyes, made her really feel it in a way she never had before. So much so that she actually shook her head against the pillow. And whispered, “Not until right now.”
He kissed her again and resumed those long, luscious strokes into her body. She met each one, surrendered completely to her desire for him, and soaked up all that he gave her—until a low groan left him and he bit off the words, “Aw . . . sorry, honey, can’t stop.”
And then he was coming in her, with four mighty thrusts that nailed her to the bed—and she didn’t mind at all that she hadn’t climaxed this time because she couldn’t imagine feeling any more right now than she already did.
When he collapsed gently atop her, she drank in the musky scent of him, liked having his bristly cheek nestled against hers. His voice came soft and deep in her ear. “Sorry, Daisy.”
She gave her head a short, exhausted shake. “Nothing to be sorry for,” she told him. “That was . . . amazing.”
“I like the way you think,” he murmured, a hint of humor back in his voice, though she could tell he was about to drift off into sleep. And she didn’t mind that, either, since she was, too, and she liked the idea of falling asleep together.
When Anna opened her eyes, Duke was gone. She felt that almost even before she looked beside her in the bed to see that his spot had been filled by the cat. “You’re not who I was expecting,” she said. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not nearly as hot.”
Erik, curled up against the pillow next to her, let out a defensive-sounding meow.
Anna eyed the cat. “Maybe you need a girl kitty. Maybe that’s your problem?” Then she let out a sigh. “But I’m not getting another one of you, so you’ll just have to . . . suppress those urges. Better than I’ve managed to anyway.” She rolled her eyes, realizing it was pretty nervy of her to scold the cat for possibly wanting what she’d just had—with great gusto.
It felt empty to be left alone. To be lying naked in her bed at the dinner hour, late day sun casting shadows across the room. She knew it was the way of the world—when people had impromptu, meaningless sex, one of them often left afterward without a word and that was supposed to be okay. The other person wasn’t supposed to feel . . . deserted.
Maybe that was one reason she didn’t usually have impromptu, meaningless sex.
And it almost embarrassed her to acknowledge the truth she couldn’t deny: For her, it hadn’t been meaningless. She didn’t know him well, but you didn’t always have to know someone well to care about them. And now she cared about Duke Dawson. Because she’d shared something with him. Something so astonishingly intense that . . . oh no, was it possible he hadn’t felt it, too? Could that part of it have been one-sided? Ugh.
But no, it hadn’t. She knew it. Whether or not he’d felt anything emotional, he’d definitely felt the heat they shared—there was nothing one-sided about that.
And . . . when he’d said she was beautiful, well, it hadn’t been just a line—she knew that as surely as she knew the sun would set soon.
But he left.
And that’s okay.
You don’t have to get all wrapped up in this just because he made you feel special for a few minutes. You can appreciate sex for sex’s sake like all modern chicks are supposed to be able to do these days. You don’t have to be all mushy and gooey and attached to him over it.
In fact, maybe this is a good reminder that you’re getting too soft. Maybe Rachel’s right and hiding yourself away up here in this big old house isn’t healthy.
Because if this had happened to her a couple of years ago, sure, she’d still be a little bummed, feel a little deserted—but she’d be much cooler about it than she really felt right now.
Then again, maybe it was like she’d told him—maybe some of her confidence had always been an act, bravado. Even to herself—she’d pretended unerring confidence as a defense mechanism. And what was healthier—pretending to feel something you didn’t and finding some strength in that, or just letting it all go and feeling what you really felt?
She wasn’t sure.
About much of anything at the moment. But the one thing she knew for certain was that she didn’t intend to just lie here wallowing in self-pity. Life with her mother had taught her that, no matter what, you keep going. So she intended to get up, get dressed, and make herself some dinner. Then tomorrow she would start her new job at Under the Covers. And it seemed like a better time than ever to put some distance between herself and her outlaw biker in the woods—only for different reasons now.
She’d agreed to make her first day at the bookstore a long one, arriving at ten to train with Tessa and Amy all day. And she’d hoped Duke wouldn’t show up at the house before she left—or for all she knew he wasn’t going to show up at all after yesterday’s events. But it was not to be. She opened the front door to leave only to find him working on the porch steps.
Surprised to see him, she flinched.
“Morning,” he said without glancing up from his work.
“Um . . . morning,” she replied.
“The more I look at this porch, the more I can’t believe you haven’t fallen through it. I crawled underneath and propped it up with a bottle jack I found in the garage, but this front section is weak as hell.”
“Ah,” she said, still taken aback, now mainly by how normal he was acting—but she didn’t think it was so normal under the circumstances.
Finally, he looked up at her, but focused on the black capri pants she wore with a pair of strappy wedge heels. He appeared slightly perplexed. “Where are your shorts, Daisy?”
“In my drawer, Duke.”
When he cocked his head to one side, clearly perplexed, she explained, “I start my job today at Under the Covers. So I’ll be gone all day.”
He simply gave a short nod, then refocused on his work, pulling a tape measure from his tool belt—the same tool belt she’d been wearing the day she’d ended up hanging from the roof—and stretching it out alongside one of the steps.
Huh. That was it? He wasn’t going to acknowledge anything that had taken place between them yesterday?
Well, if he wasn’t, she was. “So . . . are we going to talk about what happened?”
He lifted his gaze to her again briefly, the glimpse she caught of his eyes reminding her of how close they’d been just over twelve hours earlier, and then he dropped it back to the steps again. “Is there something to talk about?”
“We had sex,” she reminded him pointedly.
“Yep, we sure did,” he agreed, then let the tape measure slide quickly shut with a click before looking back to her. “It was hot. And it was good. Is there any reason we can’t just leave it at that?”
Anna barely knew what to say. Though she held in the few things that came to mind. You said I was beautiful. You said you wanted me more than you’d ever wanted anyone else. You felt something more than you’re pretending right now.
But her chest tightened uncomfortably when she forced herself to realize some additional truths. They barely knew each other. They hadn’t gone on a single date or shared a single kiss before falling into bed together—or onto the couch, as the case had been. And the fact that he was working on her house didn’t make it any more than a one-night stand. No matter how he’d acted or what he’d said.
“No,” she replied, trying to regain her usual cool confidence. Even if she’d told him it was fake sometimes. It hit her then what a huge confession that had been, what a personal thing to share. Why on earth had she done that? How did this man seem to draw out parts of her that she barely even knew existed? “I just thought maybe we should acknowledge it. Since we’ll still be seeing each other every day. But no, I guess we can just leave it at that.”
And with that she walked to the edge of the porch—thankful she didn’t fall through now that she knew just how unstable it was—and moved down the steps and past him, feeling his presence even more than usual. It was at once a relief and a disappointment to get in her car and drive away.
Anna’s day at Under the Covers went well—the work was easy and even pleasant, and spending the day with Tessa and Amy turned out to be fun. She decided that was another good outcome of taking the job—somehow having to be with them made her feel more relaxed and less like a third wheel who didn’t fit in.
During a late lunch at Dolly’s Main Street Café, which Anna had learned soon after arriving in town was one of Destiny’s hot spots, Amy made a point of telling everyone they ran into that Anna was working at the bookstore now, and was soon opening a bed-and-breakfast, and how wonderful the place was going to be.
“That’s great,” Mary Ann Davis from the dress shop said, clasping Anna’s hand warmly between hers. “My parents will finally have a nice place to stay when they visit.”
And Betty Fisher’s face lit up as she said, “Now that my daughter has a family of her own, I think she and her husband feel a bit crowded at our house when they come for holidays. I can’t wait to tell her Destiny is going to have its very own inn soon!”
Since situations exactly like these had been the inspiration behind Anna’s decision to convert the house into a B&B, their responses had thrilled her and, without quite meaning to, she’d fallen into cheerful, open conversations with both women. Then realized that Amy and the whole town really were rubbing off on her since, while she always tried to be polite, she wasn’t that naturally chatty. Until now anyway.
“See? This job is getting you customers already, on your very first day,” Amy said after Betty departed.
And Anna couldn’t deny it. “You’re right. Thanks for talking the place up.”
“I can’t wait to get the grand tour when it’s all done!”
“Me too,” Tessa added. “And Lucky said—again—to just let him or Mike know if you need any help and they’ll be glad to come up.”
Anna just smiled. She really did appreciate her brothers’ willingness to pitch in—maybe more now that she knew she wasn’t going to have to take them up on it. “I will. But so far, so good.”
“I don’t see how you’re managing the exterior yourself,” Tessa added. “I mean, that’s a lot of work.”
And part of Anna wished she could tell the girls the truth about how the outside was getting done—but she’d promised Duke. Even if he had made her feel lonely and forsaken last night. “True, but . . . it’s all coming together.”
She smiled tightly as the words left her, since she wondered if she was talking about the restoration project or her and Duke’s bodies. Since, try as she might, she was having trouble getting that off her mind. Even as she spent the day concentrating on shelving books and how the cash register worked, yesterday’s amazing sex with Duke stayed with her.
But that’s normal. You haven’t been with anyone in a while. And you’ve been so strangely drawn to him since you met. Well, not since last summer, but since they’d met in the woods on that now-momentous day. She suddenly wondered—if she hadn’t gone out picking berries, when would she have discovered Duke living in the shack? Or would she have discovered him at all? The questions
suddenly made her desire to bake a blackberry dessert seem downright fated.
But even as she remembered how good things had been with Duke yesterday afternoon, the memories of his leaving were equally painful, too. So it would be best if she stopped remembering yesterday so longingly and lustfully. It would be best if she forgot all about the more tender moments and saw it the way he clearly did—as just good sex.
So upon returning from lunch, she tried much harder to concentrate on books and people and her new job. More than once, that led to thoughts of Cathy’s copy of The Phantom of the Opera, and somehow that led back to Duke in her mind—but even so, she kept trying to push it all away, at least for right now.
At the end of the day, after Amy had taught her how to balance the register, Anna thanked her for making her training day so enjoyable. In fact, all things considered, she thought she was going to like working at Under the Covers—for far more reasons than she’d originally taken the job. “I already feel more . . . a part of things, a part of the town,” she admitted, “than I did even this morning.” Because yes, she’d been back in Destiny for a year now, but it had taken her this long to inch forward into truly wanting to be here, and wanting to be a part of the community. And now she knew this job was going to be a big help in continuing on that path.
“I’ve never lived anywhere but here,” Amy said, “so I don’t know what it’s like to go someplace new. But I can only imagine what a culture shock this place has been to you, especially under the circumstances.” Anna knew Amy meant coming home after being abducted so long ago.
