Half Moon Hill: A Destiny Novel

by Toni Blake

  And he still didn’t understand what it was, and he remained entirely uncertain if this was wise—but he’d just stopped caring about that. He’d quit asking himself questions and instead gave himself over to seeking, getting what he needed. And from her response so far, she needed it, too. Which he’d pretty much sensed already, but seeing it, feeling it, only amped up the almost brutal chemistry between them.

  What did she see when she looked at him? A monster? Something or someone she wanted to keep hidden away up here where no one else could see? But even those last, hard questions fell away, too, as he rose upright on his knees, slid his hands up her outer thighs and onto her hips, and pressed inward to kiss her.

  He sank deep into the kissing upon contact, pressing his tongue into her mouth, letting himself get lost in her. And before he knew it, he’d angled her supple body back and across the chair and had climbed up onto it with her, planting his knees in the soft cushion, pressing his erection between her legs as they made out.

  There were moments between kisses when he looked at her and knew she felt it, too, whatever this thing was, this stark need that drove him. So strange to feel something so intense with someone he didn’t know well—but on the other hand, maybe he knew her better than he wanted to admit to himself. They’d shared some things; they’d worked together for a while now; she’d even cut his hair and shaved his face. So . . . maybe the only strange thing here was the feeling itself—the fact that he’d never known this kind of desire.

  Stop thinking, damn it—just stop. And enjoy this. Feel this. Be in this—all the way.

  And so that’s when Duke finally did all those things—he forgot who he was, he forgot how he looked now, he forgot anything except sinking all the more fully into the moment, the only sound the sexy old song playing in another room.

  Soon his palms drifted over her full breasts—producing another shiver, again first in her and then in him—before he moved his fingers to the button on her shorts. She let out a hot gasp of excitement as he popped the button, pulled on the zipper. And then she was biting her lush lower lip, her eyes shaded with lust, and her hands were working at his belt, getting it undone, getting everything down there undone.

  As she pushed at the waistband of his jeans, he murmured, “Lift up,” and they proceeded to shove each other’s pants and underwear down.

  Even as they continued struggling out of them using legs and feet, Duke pushed up her tank top and she lifted her arms to let him take it off. When it was gone, he removed his T-shirt over his head and flung it aside as well. “Bra. Take it off,” he said. He might sound like a caveman, but he could scarcely form thoughts at this point, let alone sentences, and the bra was the last thing left and he wanted her completely naked.

  She didn’t hesitate, reaching behind her back to unhook it, and a few glorious seconds later, the hot pink bra was being tossed away and her gorgeous breasts were bared plumply before him.

  “Aw God,” he murmured at the sight, his longing heightened just when he’d thought there was nowhere higher for it to go—and then he sank his mouth onto one tantalizingly taut nipple. He pulled it between his lips, hard and sweet and feminine, the sexy little cry she released fueling him. As she arched for him, he could almost feel the way he suckled her stretching all through her.

  She moved against him, her body grinding rhythmically beneath him—and maybe he should have just let her keep going, but they were so close already that he couldn’t resist the urge to lift slightly, readjust, and push his way inside her ripe body.

  She cried out again at the firm, smooth entry—and God, she was wet and warm. Never had it been so obvious to him that their bodies had been made to fit together perfectly.

  And then he was moving in her, thrusting, driving, and she was panting, moaning, their gazes unabashedly locked, and Duke knew a downright primal connection with her. Damn, all along, he’d thought he’d been having good sex with women—hell, he’d known it—but this . . . this eclipsed anything he’d ever experienced.

  Soon he yearned to see her towering over him, riding him as she’d done once before on the couch in the front room—he wanted to make her come. Planting his hands solidly on her ass, he said, “Hold on to me tight,” and when she locked her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, he turned them over in the chair until she straddled him.

  “Oh God,” she breathed. “I feel you so much more this way.”

  He liked that. Enough to thrust up into her, wanting to make her feel him even deeper, and loving the stark, high-pitched sigh that echoed from her. Their eyes met, her look wild, and he said, “Ride me, baby.”

  Anna couldn’t quite believe this had happened—when she’d least expected it. And if she’d let herself examine it very closely, she’d have felt weak for giving in so easily when she feared it could only lead to heartache.

  But that was why she didn’t let herself examine it. That was why she just reveled in it, soaking up the pleasure Duke delivered for all it was worth. If this was all she could have of him—his body, sex—well, looked like she’d decided she would take it. And at least in the moment, it felt far, far better than denying herself.

  Her body was in control of her now, anyway—she’d succumbed completely to Duke Dawson’s charms. Even if charms seemed . . . an unlikely word to use in relation to her biker in the woods, he definitely possessed them. In a hard, sexy sort of way.

  As she moved on him, the pleasure inside her mounted, rising higher and higher—and when he leaned in to take the peak of one breast back into his mouth, oh God. Sweet release was only a few heartbeats away and she didn’t try to hide it. Her breath grew more shallow, her eyes fell half shut, her passion overrode anything happening in her brain. She was lost to sensation, her body filled with it, her senses overcome with it—and then she toppled headlong into the oblivion of orgasm. Her cries of ecstasy filled the room, briefly drowning out the record that still played nearby.

  Oh God, I thought I’d never get to feel this with him again. And that somehow made it still sweeter, hotter. And yet . . . she didn’t know if there would be a next time, either—and that simple knowledge made her ride out the climax with even more indulgence, made her wring every conceivable ounce of pleasure from it she could.

  And as she met his gaze in that moment, she wondered if he could see what she felt—I just gave all of myself to you. Never before had she realized that . . . maybe up to now, she’d never really done that with a guy. Even guys she’d been crazy about. Even Bryant, her college boyfriend and the only guy she’d ever really loved. Maybe before this moment, even in the heat of sex, she’d still been concerned about . . . confidence, control. Maybe she’d never let herself go so completely before, even in the midst of orgasm. God. Wow.

  She’d never felt so . . . vulnerable. Or so very . . . open.

  Trust. Just like she was learning to feel for her brothers and her friends, she’d given that to Duke tonight without even weighing it.

  And, not quite ready to keep facing that scary reality, she collapsed softly against him, letting her head come to rest on his shoulder. Her eyes fixed on the soft skin of his neck, like once before. We all have soft spots. Each and every one of us. Whether figuratively or literally. Even Duke Dawson. Even me.

  They stayed still and silent for a moment, their bodies still connected, until finally Duke leaned slightly to rasp in her ear, “I love watching you come.”

  She sucked in her breath. Whether or not he’d seen how truly wide she’d opened herself to him, he’d liked what she’d given him. And that drove her to kiss him, hard and passionate—and then he was kissing her back, just as wildly, and then they were moving together again, hard and insistent, his hands on her hips, pushing her down, down, down onto him, forcing small shrieks of pleasure from her throat.

  Until finally he surprised her by then lifting her up, off him, until they were no longer joined—and she’d never felt more empty, meeting his gaze with shock to say, “Wh-why?”


  His eyes still dripped with heat, want, as he soothed her with a “Shhh,” then lifted her off him further and maneuvered around her to get to his feet.

  She instinctively started to turn toward him, her knees still planted in the easy chair, but he said, “No, Daisy—stay like you are.”

  And as his hands came back to her hips from behind her, she understood they were only changing positions—and that was when he thrust smoothly back into her waiting body, and it was like getting back something she’d lost, something she couldn’t do without, like being made whole again. She gasped her pleasure as heat infused her cheeks. She could feel him more this way, too. She bit her lip and arched her ass toward him, still ready to give of herself to him like never before.

  After that, it was utter abandon—coming from him as much as from her. He drove into her welcoming flesh again and again, each stroke vibrating through her entire body, the sensations stretching all the way out to her fingers and toes. She cried out at each, still in a state of total surrender to the moment, to the heat, to Duke himself.

  Another cool night breeze wafted through the window just behind the chair, lifting the thin curtains she’d hung there, and also lifting her hair as it seemed to kiss her bare skin. As Cathy’s old records continued playing in the next room, Anna caught a glimpse of the moon out the window—a perfect half moon glowing in the night and tilted to one side—and she thought she’d never felt so much at once. Or maybe she’d just never let herself until now.

  Duke’s raw warmth and masculinity seemed to shroud her, folding in all around her as she closed her eyes, closed out some of the sensation, to better concentrate on the part that came solely from him. She felt the blood slowly drain from her cheeks, as if the rest of her body needed it more right now, to withstand what he delivered so powerfully—until his grip on both her hips tightened and he murmured, “God, baby—God. Now.”

  And then his plunges into her grew even rougher, harder, and she clenched her teeth and loved every second of knowing he was coming in her, and that she’d taken him there.

  Duke didn’t question what would happen next or even consult Anna about it—when they were done, he just took her hand and said, “Come on.” Then he led her, both of them still naked, to the stairs that led to her bedroom.

  Her pretty giggle trilled in his ear. “What—you’re not gonna carry me this time?”

  “You’re heavy,” he said, then tossed her a sideways glance to let her know he was kidding.

  She used her free hand to playfully slug him in the arm as they climbed the polished wood steps.

  Entering her bedroom at night, then lying down with her there, was different than before. Maybe it just felt more natural to be getting under the covers in the dark with her now—or maybe he’d been envisioning her here at night, taking that beautiful body to bed. A small, dim lamp threw a shadowy light across the room, and he was thankful neither of them had bothered to turn it off—he liked seeing her next to him.

  “What do you wear to sleep in?” he asked without weighing it.

  “T-shirt and cotton shorts usually,” she said. “Or a cami if it’s hot.”

  Beneath the covers, she snuggled against him and it felt good. “No fancy lace nighties?” he asked.

  She peered over at him. “No. Why?”

  He gave his head a short shake. “I don’t know—guess I just thought you seemed like that kind of girl. Or you did last summer anyway.”

  “I guess I used to be, now that I think about it. I have a lot of that kind of stuff—just haven’t worn it in a while.” She met his gaze again. “Are you disappointed? That I don’t wear lacy stuff every night?”

  He shook his head once more. “Nah. I bet you’re cute as hell in your T-shirt and shorts. And hot as hell in your lace when you decide to wear it. Shit—guess I don’t much care what you wear ’cause you’d make anything look good.”

  From the look that passed through her eyes, he thought she liked the compliment. Though a soft grin stole over her. “Then why’d you ask?”

  He shrugged against the pillow. “Guess I just wanted to be able to picture you here, what you’d look like going to bed at night.”

  She bit her lip, appearing somehow both bashful and sexual at the same time, and he thought she’d liked that bit of honesty, too. Leaning her head back slightly, her eyes lit with amusement, she asked, “And what do you wear to sleep in, Mr. Dawson?”

  “Depends,” he said. “Sometimes underwear. And sometimes nothin’ at all.”

  When her cheeks pinkened but her expression appeared more aroused than embarrassed, he gave a small laugh. “You gonna picture that in your head when you lay down to sleep tomorrow night?”

  She flashed something between a smirk and a grin. “Maybe.” Then they rested in cozy, companionable silence for a moment before she said, “I’m glad you came here.”

  He thought back to earlier, to the mental meanderings that had led him over tonight. “I . . . wasn’t sure it was a good idea. But . . . damn, couldn’t get you off my mind.”

  “That’s nice to know,” she said with another playful, sexy grin, “but that wasn’t what I meant. I meant I was glad you came here, to my woods, to Half Moon Hill. It’s made my life . . . richer. And a hell of a lot more interesting than it was before.” She finished on a light giggle that somehow produced a soft twinge in his groin.

  “How’d you end up here again?” he asked. They’d talked about it before, sort of, but he still didn’t really feel he knew the answer. It had something to do with getting away from Mike, but that just didn’t seem like enough to make a vibrant girl like Anna come to such a remote spot.

  And when she met his gaze and hesitated, he knew she was thinking about giving him a more thorough version of the answer, but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

  “You can tell me,” he said. And then he cracked a small grin. “After all, who am I gonna tell?”

  She laughed over that—but then the gravity of the moment returned and she said, quietly, “Finding out you’re not who you thought you were, and that your mother definitely isn’t who you thought she was—” She stopped, sighed. “It’s like suddenly belonging . . . nowhere.”

  “But the Romos love you more than anything. They never stopped loving you.”

  She nodded, then swallowed visibly, and he sensed what an emotional topic this was for her. “I know, and I love them, too. But they have this whole history together that I don’t have with them. And to know I was the source of so much pain for them . . . is tough to bear sometimes. Though the hardest part isn’t about them.”

  “What is it then?” he asked.

  “It’s . . . about my mom—my other mom, the one who abducted me.” She stopped then, shook her head. “God, sometimes that still sounds so weird to say. Because I loved her, you know? She had a lot of problems, and that made problems for me, too, but I loved her—and it’s difficult to reconcile that the mother who loved me was also someone capable of . . . stealing me. Taking me from the family where I belonged. Uprooting me from all I knew. I’m glad I don’t remember much about that time—and I guess I blocked it out—but it’s just hard to think of her being willing to put me through that, to take me from people who loved me, who gave birth to me—you know? I’ve just recently figured out that her lie has made it . . . hard for me to trust in people, hard to let myself count on them. But I’m getting better at that.”

  Duke only nodded, because there seemed little else to say. After all, what words of comfort existed for such a strange and horrible thing?

  Next to him, she sighed, her dark hair fanning across the pillow like silk. Even in sadness, she was possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. “And another hard part is just . . . not really knowing who I am anymore. I mean, maybe that sounds simple—find out you’re a Romo, become a Romo. But it’s strange to know I’m not the same person I would have been if I’d been raised in Destiny alongside Lucky and Mike. And it’s hard to wonder . . .
who I was supposed to be. It’s hard to know that if I hadn’t been abducted I’d probably be someone . . . better.”

  At this, something inside Duke tightened painfully. “What do you mean, Daisy? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  She swallowed again and he felt her discomfort with the subject. And yet she went on, sharing it with him. “If I’d been raised here and never left I’d be . . . Amy. Or Jenny. Or Sue Ann. I’d wear pretty dresses and bend over backwards helping people out. I’d know how to bake, and maybe even sew. I’d know why my stupid cat follows me around meowing all the time,” she said, adding a roll of her eyes to that one. “I’d just be . . . more like what they all expected. And instead, I’m this person they don’t really know, this person who doesn’t dress the same, or act the same. And I just don’t get the cat thing,” she said, sounding almost exasperated.

  But he had no idea what she was talking about. “The cat thing?”

  “Everybody here loves their cats. And their dogs, too, I’m sure—but Amy has foisted cats on everyone and they’re all totally into their cats now. Even Mike. Even Lucky.”

  Duke nodded slightly, head still on a pillow, facing her. “Yeah, now that you mention it, Lucky does seem pretty into that cat. He always tries not to let it show when people are around, especially other bikers, but I know what you’re saying.”

  “So I’m just . . . not necessarily what they want me to be. And the thing is . . . I’ve always liked myself. I mean, maybe some of my confidence was just about being brave and acting like I had it all under control so I could have it all under control—but some of it was real. And now . . . well, maybe I don’t always feel quite as good about myself as I used to. I’m not as perfect as everyone else in Destiny. And I never will be.”