“I know what she said, but she can’t do it all by herself. Rain check on the crawl?”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. “Sure.”
Twila sauntered back inside and something went with her, the perfect day he had planned. He stilled with a thought. If he needed to get in line, he would. His little saint had a problem saying no to people. He pressed his lips together plotting a secondary mission, and then popped an eyebrow. His mouth slipped into a wicked smile. Nobody bested a Marine.
Chapter Thirteen
Drake muted the game when his parents walked in the door around three. He kinda expected Twila to be with them. His Dad plopped down in his favorite chair and snatched the remote from him. “Who’s playing?”
“Denver and New York.”
“Go, New York,” his dad said, and threw the chair back into the reclined position.
“Where’s Twila?”
“Digging,” his mother said.
He sat up. “What? What do you mean?”
His mother shook her head and flipped her hand in the air. “The Somerville’s needed her help.”
“Who are they?”
“They live on Main St. They’re both ninety, and Main Street is getting a new waterline, but the trenches from the property to the street are up to the pad owner. They can’t do it, so Twila said she would help, then the next thing you know three more folks asked for her help.”
“We stopped by on our way home,” his dad said, turning down the volume when the commercial came on. “She’s on her sixth trench.”
“Where’s Main St, Mom?”
“It’s on the other side of the park, honey,” she said, escaping to the kitchen.
Pulling on his boots, he headed over there. He found her all right—on her seventh trench. He watched her work like a machine, the sweep of the shovel digging into the sandy ground then shaken out in heaps beside the trench. Applying a heavy stomp with the sole of her boot on the edge of the spade, she hoisted another shovel of gritty soil. Twila stopped for a second and brushed her brow with her forearm and arched her back. Covered in sweat, she paused seeing him.
“Hey,” she called out.
Why am I angry? Really goddamn angry. She knew I wasn’t doing anything, why didn’t she asked me to help? He strode across the lawn and looked to his right. No one had fences, and he surveyed the two foot deep trenches lined up like a war zone she’d dug from the backyards to the street. The properties weren’t huge, but big enough.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“What is wrong with you, woman?”
She blinked and swept the sweat off her forehead. “Nothing, why?” She pulled her shoulders back and winced a little.
“Give me that shovel,” he ordered.
She yanked it away from him. “No.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I could have helped you.”
“I’m almost done. This is the last one.”
He stepped toward her and pried her fingers off the shovel. “You’re done. Sit over there.”
He burned off his anger making record time digging the last thirty feet to the road. Twila watched from the edge of the driveway. Sitting on the curb, her arms propped on bended knees, she swung a bottle of water between her fingers, taking a drink every once in a while. Finished, he leaned the shovel against one of the posts supporting the carport and accepted the water she offered. He still hadn’t spoken to her since he’d ordered her to sit. He drained the bottle and then stared down at her. “You’re sore aren’t you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.” He watched her get up, and how stiffly she stood. “Get your ass home and into a hot bath, I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
Her brows came together. “You’re awfully bossy all of a sudden.”
Putting a hand to her back, he guided her to the road. “If you’re not in that bath when I get there, it won’t be just your back that’s sore.” Her eyes popped open. “Get moving.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * * *
She wallowed in the hot water and closed her eyes, ignoring the screaming muscles in her back. A few had seized. Sunk to her chin and covered in bubbles, she thanked whoever invented the hot water heater.
The bathroom door cracked. “Can I come in?”
“Going to keep your eyes closed?”
“Not a chance.” Drake filled her tiny bathroom. He dropped the lid on her toilet and sat. From behind his back, he raised a bottle and shook it.
“What’s that?”
“Believe me, you’re going to need this. It’s a deep penetrating massage oil for aching muscles.”
“I don’t get it. I’m active, why the heck do I feel like I’m a hundred-years-old?”
“Because you were using different muscles to dig.”
“How am I supposed to apply that?”
He grinned at her. “You’re not. I am.”
What had she done to deserve a drop-your-drawers handsome man offering to give her a massage? When she had money, she used to go for one a week. It was her weakness and Drake offering was just too good to refuse.
“You need help getting up?” He grinned as he reached behind him and pulled a big bath towel from the rod and held it up so he couldn’t see her.
“No, I’m not that bad. Oh, love a duck.” She groaned as she rose from the tub. Her ass ached. Her shoulders ached. Everything ached. This sucked. She gripped the towel and folded it around herself. She must look like a wreck. Her hair was a bundled mop on her head and the short curls had escaped, the steam making them extra curly. “You’re actually going to give me a massage?”
The narrow hallway seemed even smaller with Drake walking toward her bedroom like he owned it. With a click, he turned on her bedside lamp. The muscles in her body rebelled when she sat down.
Putting one knee to the floor, he gazed at her. “While I’m here, the next time somebody asks you for back-breaking labor, you call me. We clear on that?”
The air conditioner chilled the air, tweaking her muscles. Pressing her hands into her lower back, she kneaded the pinch with her knuckles. “I suppose.” Drake helped her lay down, and she rolled onto her stomach with a poorly disguised groan.
“I should smack your ass for what you did. Ditching me and then doing this to yourself.”
She gasped when he ripped the towel away. “Drake!” she shouted. She buried her face in embarrassment. Rolling over was out of the question. That would make it far worse. “Put that towel back. God, I’m embarrassed.”
“About what?”
His warm palm came to rest on her right butt cheek and a second later moisture gathered between her legs. Move over embarrassment, here comes mortification. Where was the sand now? She needed to stick her head in it. Her body wasn’t like Heather’s, far from it. She had hips and no matter how much she walked, a healthy round rear end, which Drake had started to gently message. “Cover my butt, you ass,” she choked out.
“How am I supposed to massage you if you’re covered with a towel?”
With her face pressed into the pillow, she muffled, “Too big.”
“Says who?” his voice deepened. “I love your curves.” He paused, his thumb turning circles near the sensitive skin of her upper thigh. “I love watching you walk away from me, or toward me.”
She nearly flooded the bed with her cream when he kissed the underside of her rear. With a deep stroke, his palms slid up her back, and she moaned long and low. The massage oil smelled minty strong with eucalyptus.
“Can I hire you?” She sighed with pleasure. God, did she ever miss this. It felt so good, she didn’t care that her big butt was inches from him.
“No transaction required, believe me,” he said, working the knots from her lower back. “But you’re going to talk to me before you do something like this again. Promise me.”
Her body melted with each pass of his hands, nearing the point of agreeing to anything he asked.
“Twi
la?” he growled.
“I hear you.” The edge of the mattress sagged with his weight, and she scooted a little to the right. Raising her arms, she propped her forehead on her hands.
Adjusting his position, he started near her ankles and stroked the length of her left leg. “Feel good?”
Rough hands with perfect pressure wrapped around her upper leg, but oh-mmmm-goodness when the tips of his finger brushed her sex, she gasped.
“Hmm.” The sound thrummed from his throat. “You’re perfect.”
His finger glided through her cream, stroking her wet lips with the pad of his thumb, and her entire body lit from her toes to the roots of her hair. She needed air and raised her head. “Drake.” Her mouth formed an ‘o’, but no sound came out when he gently parted her legs and slowly circled her clit.
“Beautiful.”
Her lids closed, and she tried to calm herself. Digging her fingers into the pillow, she barely clung to sanity. His version of an X-rated massage was driving her crazy.
“So wet,” he whispered at the base of her spine and kissed her skin while caressing her hardening pearl.
Her voice stuttered. “I’m embarrassed all over again.”
“Why?” he asked. “You’re a beautiful woman, Twila, and I’m trying to lie to myself because I want to believe I’m the only man who’s touched you.”
She grinned into the pillow. “You’re wondering if I’m a twenty-nine-year-old virgin?”
“Yes,” bulleted from his mouth. “Selfish, but true.”
She chuckled. “No, Drake, but I’m not someone’s sexual fantasy either.”
“You’re mine,” he said, his voice raspy.
The oil on his fingers made it even more intense. Her body went languid and then his hands palmed her shoulders, easing the aches with every pass. She didn’t have a problem getting air anymore, since he’d pushed her past panting.
Every square inch of her body had a memory of his fingers. Concentrating on the “safer” sections of her body, she relaxed.
Her eyes popped open, realizing she’d dozed off for a second.
With thumbs rolling into the muscles of her right leg, he roamed to her apex, but stopped short. Nerve endings sparked all over her. He paused, and if her body could cry it would have. Every muscle swam with bliss. She turned her head to see him picking up the extra pillows lying against her closet. Slipping his arm under her, he drew her up and slid them under her hips.
“Drake?”
“Shhh, you’re interrupting my fantasy.”
His large hands kneaded her ass down to the top of her leg; with a sensual touch, his thumb stroked her labia, and she sucked in her breath.
“Sweetheart, I’m so fucking turned on right now.”
One finger slipped inside her sopping wet channel. She found her voice and cried out. Her face pressed into the pillow and her knees folded a little under her, shoving her ass in the air.
Her eyes flashed open when his tongue swept over the tip of her nub. “Oh God, Drake.” Her whole body shivered.
“Twila?”
Confident hands rolled her onto her back. When had he taken off his shirt? God, help her. Torqued muscle, broad, bigger than life shoulders hovered above her. Her gaze walked down every ab to his jeans, where his cock swelled beneath his zipper, pressed taut and thick against the denim.
Drake pressed her into the bed, kissing her all the way down without releasing his sizzling connection. Blanketed by his strength, her fingers spread like wings across his muscled arms. When he pulled away, her eyes remained closed, her mouth tingling, her hands touching him like someone without sight, feeling their way.
He waited for her to open her eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw you carrying that plant.” He swooped down and kissed her before backing away. Wild and unstoppable, his gaze torched her as it landed on her slick fold. Kissing her hip, his cut jaw set her on fire when his stubble scratched the soft skin on her inner thigh. Deep breaths expanded his chest. Poised above her mons, his gaze met hers. “I have to kiss all of you,” and his lips closed around her clit.
Her mouth flew open with an insuppressible cry.
“Shit,” he swore, his tongue flattened and lapped her sex. “Fuck, I’m gonna come just eating you out,” he growled, and sat back on his haunches, closing his eyes and taking a huge breath. Her arms stretched out and she sat up, grabbing his neck. His eyes flashed open.
“Take…them…off.”
His brow tightened. “Twila, I seriously didn’t expect this. I don’t have anything with me.”
“I…don’t…care!”
His head rolled back and his chest heaved. “I’m clean. I promise you.”
The smell of sex and him made her crazy. She grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him on top of her. A glint of laughter shone in his eyes, and she heard his zipper release.
“Faster,” she ordered.
Sex had been a so-so affair for her, but when his naked body pressed down on her, she lost her mind. She drove herself onto his cock and abandoned all control with a gasp. Mouths. Tongues. Hands. His fullness hit every delicious spot. She rode him, making her nerves tense with pleasure and release with a shudder. Laying back, the pillows lifted her hips, and he stroked her with a slow, sensual roll of his hips. Desire crested, thighs spread and quaking, wild and wanton.
“Deeper.” The word vaulted from her mouth. “Faster.”
“Oh, fuck,” he growled. He gripped her hips and drove himself deep, his body drawing taut, releasing warm ribbons of cum inside her. She relished the sting. Her inner muscles contracted and her body lifted right off the bed with her release. Shaking, trembling, exquisite.
With the weight of Drake’s chest pressed against her, she opened her eyes. Firm lips brushed a wet kiss against her mouth. “Twila,” his low rumble, tickled her ear, “you took me to heaven, sweetheart.”
Minutes passed in silence. His seductive touch still coursed through her, and she loved every single second. With a sway of her head, she looked over at him. Lying on his back with his hand on his forehead, he stared up at the ceiling as if he were looking for answers. His rigid jaw and afternoon shadow tempted her to reach out and touch, but strangely after what they had just done, she hesitated. Wasn’t he going to leap out of bed and leave her? The mystery and tension building between them ended in an orgasm, and she kind of expected him to walk away.
When his brow flinched together for a second, her heart jumped. Reading his mind would be handy right about now. He rolled to face her, and ran his hand up and over her hip, coming to rest in the sway of her waist. Those green eyes stared at her full of unreadable thoughts. “Twila, I lost control, and I’ve never lost control before.”
“It’s okay. Really. We’ll just forget about it.” She shuffled toward the edge of the bed to get up, and he stopped her with a hand to her hip.
His brow wrinkled. “Forget? How exactly do I forget the woman I dream about making love to every night?”
Her bottom lip shifted, but words only teetered there.
His finger skimmed her cheek. “If you didn’t want me, I don’t know if I could have stopped, and that bothers me.”
She laughed at the thought. “Drake, has a woman ever said no to you?”
He glanced away.
“That’s what I thought.”
He swallowed deeply and his Adam’s apple bounced. “I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”
Worry crested his features, and she shook her head.
His hand cupped her neck and his lips laid a sublime kiss on her mouth. Drawing back, he said, “I’m saying I don’t want to stop, and once isn’t enough.” His arms slipped around her and rolled her on top of him. His fingers encompassed her ass, and he pressed her against him. “Watching you come, and knowing I gave you that pleasure with my body…” He swayed his head looking totally perplexed. “I want you again.”
Her brain joined her lips in a state of deep freeze and total
shock. Drake sat up, and she rose with him, his gaze trapped her, and he lowered her onto his growing erection, his lids closing with a slow exhale. Her fingers gripped his upper arms, hard as marble, but warm. “You’re so warm,” she whispered, drifting in a sensual haze.
Not breaking their eye contact he laid against the backrest. There wasn’t one cell in her body that didn’t crave him, and she rose to palm the wall. His mouth circled her breast, and he sucked hard, fluttering his tongue against her nipple.
With his hands on her ass, he urged her to ride him and she did, every last inch of him. Desire gave her all the energy she needed. His erection filled her. Stretched her.
“So good,” he said. With a quick roll, she was on her back and his mouth was on her sex sucking her clit. With every brush of his tongue, her hips bucked higher and higher, and then he was inside her again, stroking her all the way to another orgasm, with him coming only seconds after her.
Drake curled her within his arms. Their legs entwined. “Need you to sleep in my arms,” he whispered against her ear.
She nodded, drowsy and happy. They both fell asleep without another word.
Chapter Fourteen
During the day Drake kept himself busy. His dad wanted to improve his golf swing and they hit the greens after Drake’s morning jog. Checking up on Twila, making sure she wasn’t busting her ass had become a favorite pastime. He couldn’t suppress the urge to find her. Sometimes, she turned it into a game, sending texts with a hint and he’d have to find her. Sweetest game he’d ever played. She’d mentioned last night she had to help Mr. Miller today. Once he’d finished lunch with the folks, he walked over to old man Miller’s place.
The front door was ajar, and he called out.
“Down here,” Mr. Miller called back.
He rounded the corner. Bending over with a hand to steady himself on the counter, Mr. Miller watched while Twila had her body stuffed halfway under his bathroom sink cabinet with a wrench.
“Hi, Drake, come on in, son.” He paused looking a little guilty. “If I got down there I’d never get back up,” he said.
“No problem, Mr. Miller.”
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