“Sounds like it’s right up your alley. Petals to the Heavy Metal.” She winked at the two kids. “Get it?”
Finally she got a reaction out of Dylan. A smile. An actual smile that traveled across his wary face and reached his eyes, like a light turned on in a basement room. He looked like a completely different kid when he smiled. A blue-eyed, happy kid.
It was such a dumb joke, too. She had to like someone who didn’t mind a lame joke, no matter their age.
“Any dangerous chemicals in that shed?” she asked her grandmother. “We don’t want to expose the kids to anything like that.”
“No no, it’s just fertilizer and paint. Copper to fight the slugs. Some pesticides. Come on, kids, I’ll show you. Kate, bring the old Ford around and we’ll load everything in there. It’s the only truck with a canopy that doesn’t leak.”
She hustled the kids onto a path that led to the back of the property, while Kate headed for the motley assortment of vehicles parked willy-nilly along the front driveway. One of Emma’s many abilities was fixing cars, although she refused to work on any rigs besides her own. She knew her own vehicles inside and out, but other people’s confounded her.
Just one of the many things that made her adore her infuriating but fascinating grandmother.
The key was already in the ignition of the Ford, and it started up with only a bit of pumping of the gas pedal.
She drove down the gravel drive that led to the bottom of the property, where the two kids were already carrying cans of old paint out of an ancient shed. Thick moss covered its roof; a baby spruce tree had taken root there.
“Is this thing even salvageable?” she asked as she pulled on the work gloves S.G. handed her.
“Oh yes. I’m gonna teach these kids some basic carpentry while we fix it up.”
“Fix it up for what?”
“Honeymoon suite.” Emma plopped two crusted old cans into the bed of the Ford, while Kate goggled at her.
“Those are two words I never imagined I’d hear you say. Honeymoon suite?” Kate followed her grandmother inside the dank shed. It smelled of mold and manure. Not exactly romantic honeymoon material.
“Never say never, kiddo.” Emma lifted her eyebrows at her and pointed at a jumble of broken tools in the back of the shed. “All those need to go.”
“Whose honeymoon? Is there something you’re not telling us? Are you seeing someone, Emma?” She picked up an ancient rake with rusted tines and a broken handle. “I’ve seen some very attractive silver foxes around town, behind those long-ass beards.”
“I’m never getting married again, but some of us are still young.” Emma’s knowing glance made Kate stop in her tracks.
“Okay, let’s just clear this up once and for all. Even if Darius and I get something going, neither of us is looking at marriage. You know me, I’m as cynical as they come.”
Emma snorted, as if none of those words meant anything to her. “You go ahead and try to fool yourself, if you want. You can’t fool me. I’m a thousand years old.”
“You’re only eight-two, and you’re in for a shit-ton of disappointment if you think Darius and I are headed for a honeymoon. I just don’t want you crying in your oatmeal over us.”
“You worry about yourself, not me.” Emma scolded her. “And those revolting Pop-Tarts you call breakfast.”
“I call them a pre-breakfast snack, and I could say the same to you.” Still arguing, they carried armfuls of tools to the Ford, passing the two kids on their way. “Worry about your own honeymoon, not my hypothetical, never-gonna-happen one. Besides, Darius has already been married twice and he has nothing good to say about it. At all.”
A clattering sound made her jump; Dylan had dropped one of the paint cans he was carrying. He looked stricken, almost pale.
“Don’t worry, they like to bicker,” S.G. reassured the boy. “It’s okay.” She bent to pick up the paint can for him.
Kate silently scolded herself. Why did her mouth always run away with her? She should set a better example for the next generation. “Just so you kids know, even though we do occasionally argue, I would do anything in the world for this woman. And she would do the same for me.”
“Except go on a honeymoon,” Emma grumbled.
“True.” Kate grinned and hugged her grandmother with her free arm. “I have my limits.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Kate got back home, she found a note from Darius on her door.
We have to talk.
Worst phrase in the English language. All it did was inspire dread. Instantly in a bad mood, she crumpled the note and tossed it away. The time she’d spent with Darius in LA had sparked a fire in her—and left her wanting so much more. Was he about to put a stop to it before they went any further?
What else had she expected? She was the cynical one, after all. She was Team Sex, the one who didn’t believe in relationships that went anywhere. She’d just lectured her grandmother about that very thing.
And yet…damn.
She reached the living room and glared at the Kama Sutra rug. “Don’t tease me, you.”
“Talking to the furniture again?” Darius’ deep voice resonated across her skin, along her nerve endings.
She spun around and as soon as she met his silvery eyes, all her worries drained away. That was not the face of a man who wanted to slow things down. It was the face of a man who wanted to take her right then and there, up against a wall, on a rug, wherever, whenever.
“Hi.” Already a little breathless. Great.
“You left the door open. You really shouldn’t do that.” He advanced toward her, a frown gathering on his forehead.
“So true. Any old riff-raff could just walk right in.” She stood her ground as he reached her. Her pulse was already racing.
“Did you get my note? I have to talk to you.” His expression said the opposite, that talking was the very last thing he wanted to do.
And there went her nipples. Already perking. Jeez. She had zero self-control around this man.
He stopped about six inches from her. She closed the gap so the front of her body brushed against his. A hot shudder of lust gripped her, so intense she clenched her fists to hold it back.
His eyes darkened to a deep charcoal. “You’re making it hard.”
“Hmm, you don’t say.”
She moved her hips from side to side in search of the bulge she could already imagine.
“That’s not what I mean.” He gave a soft groan. “And now you’re making it even harder. Still not what I mean.”
“And yet…” There it was, the swell of his erection against her lower belly. She traced its outline with eager fingers. So hard and large. Pure masculine heat.
He gripped her forearm and thrust her hand away. “Do me a favor. Clasp your hands behind your back so I can put two thoughts together.”
Ahhh, so she was getting to him.
“Okay,” she murmured, doing exactly as he’d requested. But maybe he hadn’t thought it through, because with her hands interlaced behind her, her breasts thrust forward. She still wore the t-shirt she’d been working in at the farm. Not only did it have a deep V-neck, but she’d gotten mud on it, then splashed water on herself to clean it off. Basically she was a muddy mess, but that t-shirt clung to her boobs like nobody’s business.
His expression shifted and his eyes dropped to her chest. Okay then. This was working.
“Fuck it. It can wait,” he growled.
He crowded close to her and cupped a hand around the back of her neck. He used it to hold her still while he ravaged her mouth with deep, turbulent kisses. All she could do was brace her legs apart, as if she were riding swells in Misty Bay.
His scruff brushed against the skin of her cheek, adding another layer of stimulation. And then there was his scent, that deep, manly smell of wood and wool and soap. It sent her to a place of wild fantasies—naked skin in firelight, light and shadow playing over rippling muscles, silver eyes consuming her body. The way his st
rength surrounded her made everything else turn into vapor and disappear.
Next thing she knew, he was pulling away and claiming one of her hands to tug her toward the bedroom.
“I’d fuck you right there on that rug, but I don’t know where that thing’s been,” he said roughly. God, she loved it when he got down and dirty like that.
“Bed works. I like beds.” She sounded like Jane communicating with Tarzan. And that’s how she felt, too. Primitive and carnal.
They practically ran into the bedroom. She hadn’t set up the old ironwork bedframe yet. It leaned against the wall, waiting for her to get around to it. In the meantime, she’d been sleeping on the box spring and mattress.
None of that seemed to bother Darius. Breathing fast, he stopped next to the bed and ripped his shirt off. Two layers of shirts disappeared in one swift motion. He stood before her in all his muscled glory. The sight brought back so many memories from their night in the hotel that she literally licked her lips.
“Hello again,” she murmured as she caressed the hard curves of his chest. A soft mat of hair darkened the area between his pectorals. She found his nipples poking between the curls, and felt them tighten as she brushed her fingers over them.
This time he didn’t wait for her to take off her own shirt. He did the job himself. Underneath, she wore a sports bra that had also somehow gotten mud on it. “Do you know that every time I see mud I think of the first time we met?” His rumbling laughter added to the sensation created by his big hands as he worked her bra off her body.
When it was gone, he filled his hands with her bare breasts. “You have a little bit here too.” He flicked a speck of mud from one nipple, causing a jolt just short of orgasmic.
“I should clean off…”
“I like you just the way you are. Nothing wrong with a little mud and dirt. You’re hot no matter what, babe.” He slid his hand over her ass, under her work trousers, under her panties. Jerked her against him. A gasp wrenched from her as their bodies joined. Her bare breasts against his naked chest…so good. So good.
He worked her against him with those strong hands of his—one on her ass, one still flicking her nipple—until she thought she might come from dry humping alone. It could happen so easily, just a little more pressure right there—but she didn’t want that. She wanted all of him this time. She wanted every inch of his penis inside her.
She pulled away, their damp skin creating a popping sound as they separated. Her hands went to the waistband of his jeans and she slid the top button out of its hole. Down came the zipper, revealing the wide elastic of a pair of gray briefs.
And a thick mound of swollen flesh underneath.
To the sound of his hoarse breaths, she freed his cock from his briefs and hefted it in her hand. Reacquainted herself with its specific length and weight and texture. The dimensions of Darius. He had lots of dimensions, inner and outer, but right now she was most preoccupied with this one. His raging erection.
She sank to the mattress and put her lips to his tip. The heat of the skin there surprised her. Darius burned hot, with that big frame of his and those muscles carved out of living rock.
She opened her mouth and slid her tongue across the knobby head. Found smoothness and hard ridges, and soft veins that throbbed beneath her tongue. She lost herself in his flavor and texture, the tremor of his muscles, the sound of his ragged breathing. His thighs clenched the longer she tasted him, and she knew he must be barely hanging onto his control. That awareness added an extra layer of spice to the excitement of his cock in her mouth.
“Stop,” he finally groaned. “For the love of God. Can’t take any more.”
Taking her time, she slid her mouth away from him. A spear of glistening flesh appeared before her. A thing of pure masculine beauty.
He lifted her up off the mattress and spun her around so her back leaned against his front. He plunged his hand between her legs and clamped it against her wet sex. She cried out—already turned on, that one touch nearly sent her over the edge. He spanned her breasts with one of his big hands as he stroked her with the other.
A second ago, he’d been at her mercy; now she was completely at his. She writhed against him as want and need coursed through her. The only thing that mattered was the electric contact of his flesh against hers.
“On the bed,” he growled. Together, somehow, they collapsed onto the mattress. He tugged her pants off and pushed his own jeans down his powerful thighs. When he’d gotten rid of his pants, he turned his attention back to her. With a firm hand on each of her inner thighs, he spread her open.
And put his head between them and licked her, up and down. The pleasure felt like an electric shriek. Her back arched all on its own and she dug her fingers into his thick hair. His sensual lips parted her softness, kissed her most intimate self, explored, tasted, savored. Lashed her with one overwhelming sensation after another. The way he drove his tongue against her—no mercy, no hesitation—sent her onto a wild plane of pure sensation. She had no control there, all she could do was hang on and let Darius’ magic mouth do whatever he wanted to her.
And then he was gone…and he was reaching for the pocket of his jeans. He slid a condom on that jutting cock and her heart was pounding and she couldn’t wait…couldn’t stand to live another second without feeling him inside her.
He moved on top of her and slid his belly against hers. “You good?” he murmured.
She nodded, almost frantic. “Do it. I’m good. We’re good.”
A slight smile flashed through the scruff already darkening his jawline. This man was one hundred percent testosterone, damn it.
Except he was so much more than that. He was gentle power, aching restraint, exquisite control as he eased his swollen erection inside her. She was so wet from all his suckling that he entered easily at first. The deeper he went, the more her channel contracted around him. Flutters of pleasure accompanied his slide, little promises of the ecstasy to come.
Her eyes drifted shut as he seated himself fully inside her. A sense of satisfaction came over her. Even if they did nothing else, they were joined together as intimately as two people could be. She felt the beauty of that down to her soul.
He slid his hand between them, to her clit. His big thumb found a spot that sent searing pleasure to every one of her nerve endings. She cried out and trembled under his rubbing.
“I can’t…Darius…I’m going to come…I can’t…”
“Do it,” he commanded. “Don’t fucking hold back for anything. Just come.”
She didn’t know what he was doing anymore—she couldn’t keep track. All she knew was that everywhere she needed it, there was pressure and friction and heat and wetness. There was a man growling in her ear, there was hot skin sliding against her, there was a huge cock moving inside her, filling her up—and that hand sending her higher and higher, up and up until she exploded into a sky full of fireworks.
He stayed with her, not letting up as the spasms ripped through her. Only when she’d started to float down from that other planet did he pump himself into her with wild, almost desperate thrusts. With her knees wrapped around him, her body arched, she welcomed every feverish bit of him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Darius surfaced from a fog of afterglow to remember that he actually had a reason to be here that didn’t involve sex.
With the two of them sprawled in a naked tangle on Kate’s queen-size mattress, he settled his hand on her ass. Her curves settled so sweetly into his palm. She lay face down, her eyes half-closed, lips parted.
“You awake?” he said softly.
“Mmmm.” If a sound could express pure satisfaction, that would be it. “Barely. Get it? Barely?” She gestured toward her naked form.
Trust Kate to crank out the bad jokes even on the verge of sleep.
“I didn’t actually come over here to tumble you into bed.”
“I know. I had to work hard for this. I think you owe me a thank you.” One eyelid dro
pped closed in a sleepy wink.
“Thank you,” he said without a second of hesitation. “Seriously.”
She gave a soft chuckle. “Any time, big guy.” She rolled onto her back and stretched her arms over her head. He visually traced the line of her body, from pointed toes to linked hands. She was a long, tall drink of something strong, Kate was. Something that went right to his head.
Then she sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. All serious business.
“Hey, you’re hiding all the naughty bits,” he complained.
“We can’t be naughty all night,” she said reasonably. “There’s something you want to talk about. Go ahead, I’m ready now. My brain cells have reassembled in their proper order.”
He loved the idea that he’d helped scramble them in the first place. “Maya came to see me with some data analysis she did about the fires we’ve been having.”
“Fires?”
“Backing up. Lost Harbor has been experiencing an abnormally high rate of nuisance fires. No one hurt, no real damage. But they’re a problem because they could spread if we don’t get to them in time and they’re taking up fire department resources. After the first few, we began to wonder if they were deliberately set.”
“You mean arson?”
“I mean arson.”
She frowned in thought. “Isn’t it pretty easy to tell if a fire is due to arson? I remember a case my law firm was involved with.”
“It usually is, but so far there’s been nothing especially obvious. The fires aren’t big enough to be destructive, indicating that the firebug isn’t using accelerant.”
“If there’s a firebug.”
“Right. Anyway, our dedicated police chief, Maya, made a chart of all the fires that lays out the timing and she noticed something very strange and interesting.”
“Well, they do say strange things happen around Lost Souls Wilderness,” she quipped.
“Yes, they do. And it’s a hundred percent true. But I’m not willing to shrug off an arson spree. That would be a dereliction of my duty as fire chief.”
Naughty All Night (Lost Harbor, Alaska Book 5) Page 16
