Deep River Promise

by Jackie Ashenden

  “What?” she asked.

  “I spoke to Connor after leaving your office this morning.” He moved slowly over to the desk. “Kid was hanging around outside as I left, so I bought him a coffee and a donut and we had a conversation.” Damon paused. “For the record, he was waiting for me so he could warn me off you.”

  Astrid’s gut lurched. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I don’t know—”

  “It’s okay. Connor was just worried about you. And he’s worried for this town. And it seems I was right: he feels responsible for it and for you too.”

  Worry hit her and guilt—and grief too. Worry for her son and guilt for what she hadn’t told him. Grief for what she’d put him through and what he felt he had to take on, for the fact that he hadn’t told her any of this.

  She would have given everything in that moment to have not met Aiden that day in the café where she’d been working. To not have had Connor sitting nearby because he’d been sick and she’d had no childcare and had had to bring him to work despite her boss’s disapproval. To not have talked to him or for him to notice Connor and ask if he was her son. He’d been so nice to her and she’d been at the end of her rope…

  If only she hadn’t brought him into their lives, maybe things would have been different…

  She lifted a hand to her forehead, half turning away, not sure why it was hitting her so hard now, when she hadn’t even thought about Aiden for at least a year or so.

  It was Caleb’s death and all that had brought with it, that was the issue.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Damon’s voice was warm with concern. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t,” she said. “It’s fine.”

  It wasn’t fine, though. Her eyes were prickling with unexpected tears and her throat felt tight. God, what was wrong with her? She usually managed her own emotions much better than this.

  It took her a moment to realize that Damon had come around the desk to her, moving even closer. And then his fingers closed around hers, gently pulling her hand away from her forehead. The concern in his voice was there in his eyes too, and she was gripped by the almost overwhelming urge to lean against him, lean into his strength, because he had such a lot to spare and her reserves right now were so low.

  But she knew how that went. He’d play nice at the beginning. Get her to trust him, to depend on him. Get her to think that maybe this time would be different. And then he’d turn on her the way men like him always did.

  Damon could be different, it was true. But she couldn’t risk it.

  He frowned, letting go of her hand and searching her face. “If it’s about Connor, it’s okay. I know he hasn’t spoken to you, but he asked me how long I’d be here and when I told him, he said ‘good.’ I think that means he’s okay to talk to me at least.”

  Yes, that was good. Her poor boy needed someone, especially if he felt he couldn’t talk to her, and clearly he did. Strange that he should trust this man though, when after Aiden, he didn’t tend to trust men in general.

  Or perhaps it’s not strange. Perhaps Damon is actually someone you can trust.

  She couldn’t believe that though, not yet.

  “He doesn’t want to talk to me, does he?” It sounded so pathetic she wished she hadn’t spoken. But it was too late now.

  “It’s not that,” Damon said firmly. “He probably doesn’t want to worry you with it. And I say that because I was his age once, and my mom was a single mom too. She worked two jobs, was constantly worrying over money, and so any issue I had, I handled it myself because I didn’t want to add to the load.”

  Her brain latched onto the small morsel of information. “Oh yes, you mentioned your mom was on her own.”

  “Yeah. My dad up and left when I was barely a toddler, so my mom brought me up herself. I know how it goes, Astrid. And Connor knows too. He’s just trying to lighten the load.”

  Astrid’s throat constricted. Of course Connor was. But what Damon didn’t realize was just how heavy that load had been, both for her and Connor.

  You should tell him. He’d understand.

  No, she couldn’t. Damon was an unknown quantity, and with this attraction between them, once she told him one thing, she’d find herself telling him everything. And she couldn’t do that. She’d been burned and burned badly, and there was no trust left in her.

  So all she did was nod, concentrating instead on his gaze, so blue and depthless she felt as if she were falling.

  The moment lengthened, tension gathering around them the way it had back in her office earlier. The gleam in his eyes intensified, became electric.

  “Astrid…” His voice had become even deeper, liquid honey surrounding her.

  She couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away from him.

  He was very close, and he was so very tall, muscular, and powerful. And she didn’t just want to lean into his strength; she wanted to inhale his scent, touch the fabric of his shirt, feel the hardness of the chest beneath it. Distract herself from the ache of guilt and grief in her heart, the feeling she’d let down the one person in the world she shouldn’t have.

  Just one touch. That would be enough, wouldn’t it?

  She lifted her hand and laid it on his chest.

  He went very still, the electric gleam in his eyes flaring. And she thought he might pull her hand away or step back, but he didn’t do either of those things. Instead, he lifted his own hand and laid it over hers, pressing her palm against him.

  She could count the number of times she’d touched him, each moment glowing and warm, like pearls in a necklace of glass beads. Shaking his hand when he’d first introduced himself, and then again when he’d made her reciprocate up in the Moose yesterday. And then this morning, his fingers brushing her cheek as he’d pushed that curl back behind her ear…

  And now this moment. His big hand enclosing hers, holding it against him, the scent of him around her, sandalwood and spice. His heat seeping through the fabric of his shirt and into her.

  “Astrid.” Her name again, his voice huskier now, deep and soft as velvet.

  “What?”

  “You should stop me.”

  “Stop you from what?” She couldn’t look away from him. Couldn’t tear her gaze from the astonishing blue of his eyes.

  His other hand lifted, his fingers brushing along the line of her jaw, stroking her skin. Making her shiver. Threading into her hair, cradling the back of her head.

  He was so gentle, handling her as if she was precious.

  She trembled.

  “Stop me from doing this.”

  Then he bent his head and his mouth covered hers, and Astrid was lost.

  Chapter 9

  Damon hadn’t meant to kiss her. He’d only wanted to reassure her because he’d recognized the guilt in her eyes when he’d mentioned Connor, and seen the grief too. Knew the fear that had glittered in the misty depths of her gaze as she’d wondered if her son would talk to her. She was worried that she’d irreparably hurt him, and Damon got that. It was familiar. The questions he’d asked himself after Ella had gotten sick—Had he fed her the wrong thing? Let her come into contact with something she shouldn’t? Not given her the vitamins she needed?—were the same things everyone asked themselves when they were responsible for someone else who ended up hurt or sick.

  Most people wanted to do right by the people in their care and so did Astrid. It was written all over her face.

  Connor hadn’t said why he hadn’t talked to his mom, but Damon could guess—mostly because he’d done the same thing with his own mother. He’d wanted to protect her, hadn’t wanted to worry her.

  But he hadn’t thought Astrid would touch him, that her touch would make his breath catch and every part of him sit up and take notice.

  He hadn’t thought he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from putting his hand over hers, from pre
ssing her palm to his chest, the feel of it echoing through him, making him feel edgy and raw, the sensations sharp after years of blunted, muted feelings.

  He hadn’t thought he wouldn’t be able to keep from reaching out to caress the soft skin of her jaw, watching as her eyes turned from misty gray into pure silver as the passion inside her came out to play. That tense, bristling energy turning into something much more fluid and supple, hot and needy.

  She’d looked at him like she was desperate, and it had been a long time since someone had been desperate for him—since he’d let anyone be desperate—and no, he hadn’t been able to stop himself.

  Her mouth was soft opening beneath his, and she tasted as sweet and sugary as he’d imagined. And yes, there was a bite to her. But not like citrus. It was more a kick of something alcoholic, heady as summer wine and going straight to his head just as quickly.

  He could also taste heat in her, the passion that he’d seen in her gaze. A secret she kept locked away, and yet now, as she pressed against him, a secret that was his too. He didn’t think anyone knew about the fire that burned inside cool and capable Astrid James, and he liked that. Liked it far too much for his own good.

  Her fingers spread out on his chest, and her mouth was hungry, as if she hadn’t eaten for days and he was her first taste of food.

  This was such a bad idea and he knew it. But the moment she’d set foot in the market, and everyone had looked at her, and she’d stood there looking back, her gaze finding his, her face lighting up.

  He’d missed that. Missed having someone so pleased to see him that they glowed. The last person to do that had been his daughter, and since she had gone, there had been no one else.

  Because you never let anyone get close enough.

  And he shouldn’t be letting this woman get close enough either, but he couldn’t stop himself. She was too irresistible and he wanted her too much.

  Her hands were both against his chest, pressed to his shirt, and she was kissing him back with a desperation that wound around his heart and pulled tight.

  Backing her against the desk, he pushed his fingers deeper into her blond hair, the silky warmth of it flowing over the back of his hand as he eased her head back, allowing him greater access to the heat of her mouth. She moaned as he began to explore her, trying to stay gentle and in control because he always tried to whenever he was with a woman.

  He’d never had to try so hard before, though.

  She felt small and fragile against him, and yet there was nothing fragile about her kiss. There was a demand and a challenge in it that he found unbearably erotic.

  “You should stop me,” he repeated against her lips. “Because I don’t think I can stop myself.”

  Her fingers spread out on his chest, caressing. “What if I don’t want to stop you?”

  “Astrid…” Her name came out low and rough. A warning.

  She bit his lower lip, just a little nip, but it went through him like wildfire.

  His hands clenched in her hair, and he kissed her again, harder, deeper, pressing her lightly against the desk, fitting those soft, slender curves tighter against him.

  She sighed, her fingers winding into the material of his shirt as if she wanted him even closer. She smelled sweet and he wanted to bury his face in her neck, inhale her, fill himself up with that heady scent.

  Hell, he’d never wanted to do that with a woman before. What was she doing to him? He really needed to stop. Because apart from anything else, she was still the mayor and Connor’s mom, and completely out of bounds.

  He lifted his head, holding on to her hair gently and stopping her as she tried to follow his mouth.

  “No,” he said, his voice rough. “Astrid, this is a bad idea.”

  Her face was flushed, her eyes glittering. The way she’d looked when she’d come out of her class this morning. He was right: kissing her made her look that way too.

  “Why?” She didn’t let him go, her fingers still twisted in the fabric of his shirt.

  “Remember what I said this morning? About you being Connor’s mom? About you being mayor? Those things are still true.”

  “I know.” The pulse at the base of her throat was frantic. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. “I know they are. But…all I am here is the mayor, the librarian. All I am is Connor’s mom. And don’t get me wrong, I want to be those things. I’m proud to be those things. But it’s been a long time since I’ve been anything else and I…want to be a woman for a change.” Her gaze was open, letting him see the desire in it, burning hot. “Does that make sense?”

  It did—more’s the pity—and he wished it didn’t. His body was already urging him to disregard his better self; he didn’t need another reason to listen to it. Because it made him think of other things, such as exactly how long it had been for her since she felt that way, and why.

  And why you.

  Yes, that too.

  His fingers tightened in her hair.

  “How long?” He was unable to keep from asking. “How long has it been?”

  She didn’t look away. “Five years.”

  Everything in him stilled. “Five years?”

  “Since I got to Deep River. At first I just didn’t want to for…various reasons. And then… It’s hard to find someone in a small town. And I haven’t met anyone I’ve wanted to be with…” Her gaze was very direct. “Until you.”

  Something unexpected twisted in his chest.

  “Don’t go thinking I’m a good bet,” he said roughly. “I’m not a saint, Astrid. And it hasn’t been five years for me. It’s been a couple of weeks, if that.”

  “I don’t think that. And I don’t care how long it’s been for you. I don’t want a saint. I don’t want a relationship.” The silver glitter of her eyes darkened. “I just want a moment. This moment. Right here, right now. I want you to make me feel like I’m something more than the things I am here. And it doesn’t have to be anything but that.”

  He couldn’t refuse her. How could he? She’d been through some kind of trauma, he could already tell, and even though he didn’t know what trauma it was, he knew what trauma felt like. He’d been through his own special brand of hell, after all.

  And sometimes a moment was exactly what you needed. A break from real life and its burdens. A moment to feel something good.

  God, he really wanted to give her that. It might not have been a long time since he’d been with a woman, but it had been a long time since anyone had needed what he had to give. He could make her feel like she was something more. He could make her feel like a goddess.

  “Not here. We should go to the Moose.”

  “No. People will see us and I don’t want any gossip.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Still, the library was a public place.

  He released her, then moved around the desk, striding over to the door. Closing it, he flicked the lock so at least they wouldn’t be disturbed, then he stalked back.

  The desk was in the corner of the library, out of sight of the windows, and the big shelf that ran down the middle of the room would block them from view anyway. He didn’t really care for himself, but he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.

  Then again, given the way she looked at him now as he came toward the desk, she didn’t appear uncomfortable in the slightest—only very hungry.

  All of a sudden, he was harder than he’d ever been in his life.

  She put her hands back on the desktop and pushed herself up so she was sitting on top of it. Her eyes had gone all silvery, her cheeks a deep pink, her mouth red from his kisses.

  She wasn’t just tempting. She was temptation incarnate. All that secret, hidden passion was flaming and he wanted it to flame higher, become a blaze.

  Damon stepped forward, raised his hands and took her face between his palms.

  Then he took her mouth.

&
nbsp; The kiss was hot and unbearably sweet. It made him ache, like the echo of something profound that he’d lost and never thought to find again, only to discover it here, in this tiny town, contained in one cool, capable, sexy woman.

  It was a deeper feeling than he was used to, but he couldn’t pull away now. He wanted this to be good for her, to be special. Because if she was only allowing herself one moment, then he wanted to make sure it would be the best damn moment she’d ever had.

  He explored her mouth gently, slowly, nipping and tasting, savoring her. She shuddered, her hands coming to his chest and pressing hard against it, kissing him back with a hunger that pulled at the leash that he had on his control.

  But he was good. He kept the kiss a gentle tease that he only slowly began to deepen, turning it more intense, more consuming. Her hair against his fingers felt so good and the scent of her body was sweet and warm, wildflowers on a summer’s day.

  She gave a throaty moan, her hands sliding down over his chest and stomach, creeping beneath the fabric of his shirt, stroking his skin and leaving little trails of fire everywhere she touched. It made him breathless.

  “No,” he murmured against her mouth, releasing her hair and pushing her hands away. “No touching.”

  “But I want to—”

  “No.” He cupped her face between his palms, staring down into her glittering eyes. “Astrid, honey, if you touch me like that, it’ll be over in minutes. And you deserve better than minutes.” He stroked the soft skin over her cheekbones with his thumbs. “You want to just be a woman? Then let me make you feel like one.”

  She took a little breath, leaning into his hands, then sighed. “Okay.”

  He brushed a kiss over her mouth, then released her. “Lift your arms.”

  She obeyed without hesitation and he reached for the hem of her silky blue T-shirt, pulling it up and off her, leaving her sitting on the desktop in only a white lacy bra and jeans.

  She shivered, an expression he couldn’t quite read rippling over her lovely features.

  Was that uncertainty? Discomfort? If so, he needed to know because he didn’t want her feeling either of those things.