One Hundred Wishes

by Kelly Collins

  Something about sending that text to Dave Benton freed her. Like ten years worth of chains simply broke loose. She deserved to be happy. Dalton made her happy.

  He was selfless and kind and sexy. He kissed like a master. When his hands roamed her body, it was as if he’d wanted to memorize every part of her.

  “Stay here for a second.” He left her standing by the window, looking out over the lake. Small fires dotted the ice where diehard fishermen grabbed on to the last chance to pull a trophy from beneath the frozen surface.

  Dalton returned in minutes and walked her down the hallway. Shadows of light danced across the walls of the room. He’d lit candles. Her heart burst with happiness. When had anything been so perfect?

  “Do you do this for all your women?”

  He cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes. His hard blue eyes softened. “No, you are the first woman in my house. The first I’ve invited to my bed. The first to break through my icy heart.”

  She couldn’t breathe. His words had twisted inside her, tightening a hold on her heart. “I’ve never been treated like this. You’re going to spoil me.”

  “I plan to.”

  He walked her to his bed until the mocha brown comforter hit the back of her knees. She leaned back and let his soft mattress hug her body. Her hands flattened onto the fabric. This is where she wanted to be, and she hoped he kept his promise of keeping her here all weekend.

  Propped on her elbows, she watched him remove his shirt. The soft light created shadows that only increased her awareness of how toned and fit he was. The candlelight danced over the ridges and valleys of his carved-from-rock body.

  “You work out?” She felt stupid for asking. With a body like his, he had to spend hours in the gym.

  “I used to. I don’t so much now. There was a time where all I did was work out.”

  “You’re beautiful.” She wanted to take the words back. What man wanted to be called beautiful?

  “No, you’re beautiful.” He lifted her feet one at a time and tossed her boots aside. “Even when you had blue hair, I thought you were beautiful.”

  “You like it better blue?” She watched him unbuckle his belt and pull it through the loops. He rolled it up and walked it over to his dresser. Dalton wasn’t what she expected. His house wasn’t what she expected. He was put-together. His house was clean—almost military or institutional in its organization—but there was a warmth to everything he did. He invested himself.

  “No, I like this better, but I still thought you were beautiful.”

  She rolled to her side to stare at him. “Was that before or after you called me a skinny, blue-haired boy?”

  He stalked toward her. She rolled onto her back in time for him to straddle her hips. With one motion he pulled her pink, cashmere, third-date sweater over her head and cupped the pink lacy bra she wore.

  “These,” he said with a heat and gravel voice, “would never belong to a boy.”

  “No? Just the hair, huh?”

  He rubbed his thumbs over her aroused peaks. “Was that a phase?”

  A ten-year phase. “I was definitely going through something. I’m working through it.” She was making headway through her life. It wouldn’t be easy, but she knew it would be worth it. Maybe she could figure out a way to keep Dalton.

  “I’ll work you through it.” He reached behind her to unhook her bra. “As pretty as that little piece of lace is, I find you even more beautiful naked.” He made fast work of removing her clothes.

  “We are not doing this again.” She rose up and tugged at the button of his jeans, then pulled the zipper down. “You may have the patience of a saint, but I don’t. It’s been a very long time for me, and you’ve been stroking my libido since the start.”

  He rolled off the bed and pulled down his pants until all he wore was a pair of clingy boxers. Her eyes went straight for the goods.

  Oh shit. She knew he was well-endowed, but she never imagined that what she saw outlined down his thigh would be so big.

  He opened the drawer to his nightstand and pulled out a strip of condoms. Magnum size, of course. “I stocked up.”

  “Oh shit.”

  He tugged his boxers off, evening the playing field. They were both naked. And she was scared to death.

  “Changing your mind?” His lips twitched in amusement.

  She pulled a deep breath into her lungs and thought of the words he’d told her days ago. “No. A really sexy man told me I could always make room for what I desired. And I want you. All of you.”

  “That’s my girl.” He climbed onto the bed beside her.

  She knew Dalton wasn’t a dive-straight-in kind of guy. He’d told her more than once that he loved the in-between. As he left kisses across her body, she grew fond of it as well. She’d never had the time to lie in bed and be worshipped by a man. Never had she wanted a man to kiss her as much as she wanted Dalton.

  “This thing between us is dangerous,” he said against her neck. “You’re fire, and I’m accelerant.”

  Not wanting to be a taker and not a giver, she switched places with him. As she straddled his waist, his length sat heavy and ready between her legs. It would have been so easy to lift up and let it all happen, but she wanted Dalton to feel as cherished as she did.

  Her fingers ghosted over his skin until goose bumps rose beneath her touch. She traced his tattoos. He was a work of art. “Did these hurt?”

  He opened his heavy lids to look at her. “Not like you’d think. It’s a good kind of pain.”

  Leaning forward, she pressed her breasts to his chest. The fine dusting of dark hair grazed her sensitive peaks. “If you gave me a tattoo, what would it be?” She drew her tongue over his nipple, and he hissed.

  “Can’t think.” His hands reached for her bottom and squeezed. He pulled her harder against his length and groaned.

  His expression was a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Don’t think.” She shimmied down his body and kissed him where he needed attention the most. “Just feel.”

  “You’re killing me.”

  She ran her tongue down the length of him. “Maybe, but you’ll die happy,” she purred against his silky soft skin.

  Before she could take him inside her mouth, she was flat on her back and Dalton was over her. He reached for a foil wrapper and tore the end off with his teeth.

  His breath sucked in when she helped him roll it on. Settled between her thighs, she opened to invite him in, more than ready for this moment.

  At first, she was certain he’d split her in half, but he took his time coaxing her body to relax around him. He eased into her slowly. He was right, there was always room for what she desired.

  Never in her life had she felt so complete. They moved together the way a melody and lyrics complemented each other.

  “So good,” she whispered against his chest. She rose to meet his thrusts.

  She gripped his hips and pulled him in as close and deep as she could get him. She wanted him to live inside her. He was right, this was dangerous because now that she knew how it could be with two people who shared a connection, she wanted more. Did she dare to dream for more?

  His steady rhythm pushed her passion forward. He never took his eyes off her. That alone pushed her to the edge. Possessive and feral was how he looked as he claimed her. For that moment in time she belonged to him. She was his. She wanted to be his forever.

  Writhing and panting beneath him caused a sheen of sweat on her brow. His glorious body pumped into her with a purpose. Shocks of pleasure stole what breaths remained in her lungs. He pushed her to the limits, pulled her to the edge, and eased her back countless times. He didn’t hurry. It was as if her pleasure was more important to him than anything in the world.

  So close to falling off the edge. So close to falling in love. She held her breath for a moment, hoping to capture every feeling racing through her. As her body took control and her muscles ceased and then shook, she exploded around him. Her vision blurred,
then blackened until prisms of light danced behind her eyelids. She knew she’d seen heaven.

  She held tight until Dalton’s hard body heaved forward and stilled. Most men have an expression when they climax. Often, it’s not attractive. She swore she’d never seen a smile so beautiful as the one Dalton gave her when he found his release.

  He didn’t collapse on top of her but gently pulled out and lay down beside her. She curled into his arms, where she was content to stay forever.

  His fingers brushed over her skin until he came to the place above her heart. He lingered there. She leaned back and looked into his eyes—eyes that told more than he did. Their experience went far deeper than good sex. It spoke of their deep connection. She saw it in his face. Felt it in her heart.

  “Your tattoo would say, ‘Dalton’s.’” He pressed his hand over her heart. “Right here.”

  Never had she been so moved. People wanted her talent. They wanted her money. No one had ever asked for her heart. “After what you did, my heart belongs to you.” She didn’t mean to say it out loud. She spoke without thought, without fear—something she rarely did because she’d learned from watching her mother that speaking the truth was often painful. “You’ve ruined me, Dalton Black.”

  He brushed the damp hair back from her forehead. “Likewise, Samantha White.”

  “You’re black, I’m white, but it’s the gray in-between where the magic happens.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “I’m a fan of the gray.”

  Over the next several days, he showed her how lovely the color gray could be. When Sage and Katie and Lydia stopped by, he told them she was his until Tuesday. Little did he know, he’d claimed her for life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dalton knew he had to share Samantha when Sage and Lydia banged on the door early Tuesday morning requiring proof of life. Lydia was heading back to Denver to continue her job search and wanted to say goodbye. She’d been tight-lipped about her prospects, which made him think they weren’t good.

  It was Tuesday, which meant Dalton was cooking at the diner. As he flipped pancakes, he thought about the tiny little firecracker he’d loved on all weekend. Pulled in two different directions, he was in a quandary about telling Samantha about his past. They agreed to keep their secrets, but it weighed heavily on his mind. What she thought of him was important. Would the truth bother her? He didn’t want to spoil what they had. They connected on a deep level. After a week, they were finishing each other’s sentences. He’d never had that with anyone. Not even Casey, the woman he’d dated for two years.

  Maisey walked through the swinging doors. “Your girlfriend is here with the gang.”

  He liked the sound of Samantha being called his girlfriend. It was the furthest thing from the truth, but it warmed him through and through to consider the possibility.

  “I wish.” He put Doc’s pancakes on the counter and brushed his hands on his apron. Making sure nothing would start on fire while he was gone, he left the kitchen behind him to get a kiss from his ‘girlfriend’.

  She never ceased to take his breath away. Today, she was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt that hung off one shoulder. On closer inspection, he realized it was his T-shirt, and that did something to him. Seeing her in his clothes made him want to stick out his chest and pound it.

  He lengthened his stride to get to her faster. At the table, he ignored Sage and Katie and gave Samantha a kiss.

  “I’d say get a room, but then we might not see you two for months.” Katie poked Dalton in the arm. Since she and Sage were on the same side of the booth, he slid in next to Samantha.

  “You hungry, sweetheart?” She nodded. Lord knows she must be because they had burned enough calories.

  Sage waved her hand in front of his face. “We’re here too.”

  “I see ya.” He didn’t really, but he knew they were there. “What do you want?”

  Katie let out a growl of frustration. “No sweetheart for us?”

  He looked at Katie. “Bowie’s across the street for you.” His eyes went to Sage. “No idea where you’ve hidden Cannon.”

  “How have you missed him? He’s like you, big as a tank. Not likely I can hide him anywhere. Today, he’s in our garage whittling.”

  Katie jumped up and down in her seat. “I get all the ornaments. I’ll pay double.” She’d bought every ornament he’d put on consignment. By the time Christmas rolled around, she had the tree covered in whittled wood wildlife and angels.

  Dalton turned to Samantha. “How about a waffle and bacon?” He cupped her face and ran his thumb across her cheek. “Or I can make that omelet you love.”

  “Waffle, please.”

  “Anything you want, baby.” He slid out of the booth but not before claiming another kiss. He turned to Sage and Katie. “Have you decided?”

  “Waffles and bacon all the way around.” He was several steps away when he heard Katie declare, “That boy has it bad for you.”

  He couldn’t argue an obvious truth. He was falling in love with Samantha White. He loved the feeling yet hated the situation because what they had could never be long-term. He had commitments and responsibilities in Aspen Cove, not to mention four more years of parole check-ins. She had a life outside the little cocoon she’d created here. A life without him.

  With the waffles done and the bacon crisp, he placed a strawberry on the top of each except for Samantha’s. On hers, he made a smiley face out of several berries because that’s how he felt with her around. He had finally found happiness.

  With a few more orders to fill, he flicked at the bell to alert his mom to an order up. When he was free again, he peeked out the swinging doors to find the table vacant and a feeling of emptiness echoed in his heart.

  In his favorite booth in the corner sat Doc, reading his paper.

  “You gonna stare at me or come and chat?” No one ever got anything past Doc. He was old, not blind, and he had a spooky sixth sense about these things. He knew more than Abby Garrett—and she knew everything.

  “What’s up?” Adding “Doc” to the end of the sentence seemed cliché, so he let it end there.

  “The population of Aspen Cove is up.” He chuckled. “Soon, we’ll be back to where we were twenty years ago.” He sat back and placed his hands on his belly. “Those were the days.”

  “For some of you. Not so good for Mom and me.” Twenty years ago, his dad was still alive.

  “It’s a good thing your old man died immediately because I’m not sure I would have tried to save the bastard.”

  Dalton’s eyes grew large. He’d never heard Doc talk negatively about anyone. “Yes, you would have. That’s what you do.”

  Doc pruned his lips and nodded. “You’re probably right, but I would have made sure his recovery was long and painful.”

  “I never understood how some people could be so evil.”

  “Like the man you hit?”

  Dalton’s shoulders sagged. “You mean the man I killed.”

  Doc’s eyebrows lifted. They always seemed ready to take flight. “Now, son, I don’t see it that way.”

  Dalton knew from experience that if Doc started with “Now, son”, he was in teaching mode. It was a good thing the diner had slowed down because Doc’s lessons rarely finished fast.

  “It is what it is.”

  Doc shook his head. “Things are seldom what they seem. That man killed himself. There are lowlifes, and—no offense to your mom—I’d have categorized Ben in that group when he was drinking. Not so much now. Andy Kranz was worse. He was a no life. That man was rancid hamburger meat. You did the world a favor by tossing out the trash. It’s a shame you had to do time, but I’m not sure it was a bad thing, either.”

  “You think the time I did served me well?”

  “I think it could have gone several ways. I think you spent a lot of time deciding the type of man you wanted to be. You got a degree in business management, which can’t hurt running Maisey’s. You grew up.”

 
“I also have a felony conviction and no real earning potential.”

  “Should I get you a Kleenex? I’ve never known you to whine. Why now?”

  The statement made him bristle because never once did Dalton take the time to have a pity party.

  “You’re right. The problem is, I’ve never had to worry about it. Now that Samantha is in my life … it changes things.”

  “She’s a keeper. She’s tough like you and knows life’s not fair. Does she have a problem with your record?” Doc looked at the empty booth where she’d once sat. “She didn’t look like she had a problem when you two were canoodling.”

  “I haven’t told her. Do you think I should?”

  “Can’t say. Only you know the answer to that question, but I’m sure it would be easier hearing the truth from the person who lived it.”

  Doc pushed his legs to the edge of the bench and started a rocking motion that propelled him up and forward. His age was showing.

  “Damn body won’t work like it used to.”

  Dalton picked up the dirty dishes and walked behind Doc. “Good thing your mind’s sharp as a tack.”

  “If my mind ever falters, kill me.” His eyes popped when he realized what he’d said.

  “You’ll have to find someone else. I’m out of that business.”

  Doc walked out. Dalton went back to the kitchen.

  His mom leaned against the prep table eating a piece of apple pie.

  “Samantha says she’ll be at the bakery when you get off.”

  He looked at the clock and frowned. He still had two hours left on his shift. His disappointment must have been obvious. “Thanks, Mom.” He walked behind the burners to start his breakfast cleanup, but it was already done. “You cleaned my station?”

  Maisey ignored his question. “You like her, don’t you?”

  “More than I should.”

  “I like her too. Go get her and have fun. Life’s way too short. I got this.”

  Dalton was already untying his apron. “Are you sure?”

  “The only one coming in is Abby, and she’ll want coffee and pie. Ben will be here, but he can help himself. He’s getting handy in the kitchen.”