“Um, no. No, thank you.”
Gertie bounded around a tree and came to a halt, leaning heavily against Donny’s leg. She was panting, drooling, her pale blue eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. What a great dog. Sofie hated the idea of her living anywhere else, of belonging to anyone else. Look at those blue eyes, the look of pure love and devotion she was giving her temporary owner. She was his, through and through.
Sofie tried not to see any glaring similarities between her and the dog. Including the one where they’d both lose Donny in the end.
“The clothes you’re bringing over tonight…”
When he didn’t finish, she prompted, “Yes?”
White teeth flashed against tanned skin when he smiled. “Those are for Connor’s sake. Not mine. When he’s not here, I want you naked.” He bent and gave her a quick kiss. “Can you do that for me, Scampi?”
“Yeah.” She’d do just about anything for him.
Just like the mutt who trailed loyally at his side as he walked to the mansion’s back door.
“No, no, I’m too—” Sofie’s protestation ended with a gasp as Donovan plopped her onto the hood of his Jeep. He pushed her skirt over her thighs and heard a soft exhalation, followed by, “—heavy.”
“Shut up,” he told her, laying his hands on the expanse of thighs gifted to her from the Almighty Himself.
“I don’t want to dent the hood.”
“Told you a million times, Scampi, you’re beautiful.” He smashed a kiss against her mouth and she caught his head, thrusting her tongue against his. The slide of their mouths echoed in other parts of his body and he found himself instantly impatient.
“Anyway, you owe me,” he teased, snaking his fingers around the legs of her panties and tugging.
She accommodated him by wrapping her ankles around his back and canting her hips. He pulled the material to her ankles. Pink, he noticed. He noticed something else, too.
“A thong,” he growled.
“It’s new.” Eyes wide, lips pouting but pursed, she was the picture of innocence. And yet, she’d been wearing the sexiest pair of panties to ever not cover her very fine ass.
“Dammit, why didn’t you tell me this was under your dress? I should make you put them back on and bend you over this hood instead of set you on top of it.”
She grinned. “You’re bad.”
“You love it.”
“I do love it.”
When her lips met his, he didn’t miss the sensation of his heart clutching. And not because of the kiss—though it was a damn good one—but because she’d said the word love.
Love was an emotion he couldn’t trust. He understood it—in an abstract way. He got that Evan loved his son, Lyon, that Evan loved his fiancée. He got that Caroline loved to cook. He understood Alessandre loved business and had, at some point, loved each of his four ex-wives.
What Donovan didn’t understand were things like if his mother loved him, why had she left him behind? If Gertrude loved Robert, how had she let him abuse Donovan?
Where the Pates were concerned, having their love came with strings, with scars. To be loved was to be burdened. Left behind. Harmed.
The pull of Sofie’s lips reminded him she was nothing like his family. She loved purely. Loved her friends, loved bacon, loved the color brown. She loved the shower attached to the room he slept in. He knew because she’d talked about it—and what they’d done in it—over and over and over.
And he loved pleasing her. Making her cry out. Loved the way he turned her on and the way she always brought it up after.
But her love for him needed to stop there. She could love parts of the house, she could love what they were doing together, and she could even love that he was “bad.” So long as she didn’t love him. Love came first, but following closely behind: problems.
Plenty of them.
Starting with what she’d expect from him. Because of his childhood, because of his upbringing, because of who he’d become over the past seven years, there were parts of himself he simply wasn’t capable of anteing up.
Didn’t matter who he blamed. He just couldn’t, and that was that.
“Beautiful night,” she said as he continued wrestling with the elastic band on her panties. They were tangled in her high heels. Giving up, he tossed her shoes to the ground.
“Michael Kors,” she said against his mouth.
He pulled his chin back to look at her. “Who?”
“The shoes.”
“Buy you new ones.” He kissed her, allowing his hands to wander higher and higher up her thighs. “You feel like silk.” He breathed in the scent coating her neck, a blend of something feminine and soft that had the superpower of making his dick throb in sync with his heartbeat. Pushing one hand under her shirt, he cupped a breast and buried his face in her neck. She tasted like she smelled. Sweet. Incredible.
A moan echoed in her throat. “You’re sure no one is out here?”
Not that he knew of. They’d driven Trixie out beyond the stables, through the open field where he parked under a massive maple. Thanks to Connor’s mowing, the grass was no longer knee-high.
Donovan and Sofie had the field, the trees, and the stars to themselves.
“You worry too much.” He slid the dress from her shoulder and pressed a kiss there.
“I do not. I’m not worried about getting dust on the seat of my skirt,” she argued.
“That you even thought that proves me right.”
He scooted her forward on the hood and stood between her thighs. His erection shoved against his fly.
“Cashing in my Do Me rain check, Scampi.” This time when he kissed her neck, she tipped her head back to give him room. He took it.
Then his head was being pulled back, her fingers tight in his hair, her expression fierce.
“If I’m going to do you, Donny Pate, you’re going to have to let me be on top.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Seven minutes in heaven.
Whoever invented that game didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about.
Seven minutes in a closet with Sofie’s lips on his would have been great, but seven minutes of her riding him, her tits swinging in his face, her breathing escalating, her hands resting against his chest while her hips slammed up and down…
Heaven. Pearly gates included.
Pressure built in his spine until he was sure his vertebrae were exploding one after the other. He came so hard, his upper half lifted off the back of his Jeep. He welded his palms into the cushion of Sofie’s ass. Every muscle in his body tightened, then loosened, his head dropping, his eyes closing. He lay there, breathing heavily.
“You swear when you come,” she panted above him. He felt her hair tickle his face a moment before her lips covered his.
He pushed the mass of waves away, keeping his eyes closed. He didn’t need to see her. He could feel her.
“What did I say?” he asked, his voice rough, his throat dry. He had no clue.
“You said, ‘Fuuuuuuck.’ ” She’d lowered her voice to sound more like him. It was too damn cute.
His eyes opened as his mouth smiled. He smiled a lot around her. It was as refreshing as everything else he did with her.
Moonlight shining bright behind her head made seeing her expression impossible. But he knew Sofie smiled—he could hear the smile in her voice. Could hear light laughter between her shallow breaths. She’d worked hard.
“That was nice,” she said.
“No.” He palmed her back and pulled her down to him. “Nice is not the word for you riding me home, Scampi.”
“Riding you home?” A loose laugh came from her lips, her breath washing over his face.
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, if not nice, then what would you call it?”
Heaven, he thought automatically.
Instead he said, “Fucking amazing.”
“Poetic.”
Yeah, well.
After he’d haule
d her off the hood of his Jeep, he’d lowered the hatch in the back and thrown her onto an old quilt there for just this purpose. Getting her out here hadn’t been hard. He told her he wanted to check the property and see how Connor did. Which was not true. Connor didn’t need to be babysat.
The moment she stepped out of the Jeep and tilted her head to take in the starry sky, he’d made his move. He kissed her and that’d been it. He had to have her.
Damn. She’d been as sexy in her dress as she was out of it.
Almost.
Using both hands she pushed against his chest. “I should…”
Before she could leave him altogether, his palms closed around her hips.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he whispered. “Slowly.”
She shifted, letting him loose very, very slowly, while he enjoyed the slippery feel of her sliding away. Not as good as when she’d lowered herself onto him, but still.
He made room for her to lay next to him.
“Like it like that,” he murmured, holding her close. His arm closed around her shoulders and stroking the smooth skin of her shoulder. Being inside her without barriers was his favorite part of this whole thing with her.
She tipped her chin to take him in, and when he met her eyes she whispered, “Fucking amazing.” That cute, crooked smile.
“Didn’t peg you for a dirty girl.”
She propped her chin on the hand resting on his chest. “I’m a lot of things when I’m with you.”
Her comment settled into the air around him. A lot of truth there. A lot for him to think about. A lot for him to own up to. His hand moved lazily on her shoulder. He was a lot of things when he was with her, too. He was relaxed. He was playful. He didn’t think about the next thing to do that would take his attention away from bad memories. He just thought of her.
Same as seven years ago.
She pressed into him, tits smashing into his chest. He loved the feel of her skin on his, the way she was touching him now, running her fingers lightly over his chest. The night air was cool, but not too cool. His flesh still burned from having her.
“I wasn’t saving it, you know,” she said.
His hand stilled.
“My virginity,” she said. “I wasn’t saving it.”
He wondered if she felt his heart kick against her palm.
“Don’t get me wrong. I wanted my first time to be special.”
His muscles locked. He was guessing her definition of “special” wasn’t being accused of being too tight followed by being asked to get dressed immediately after. God, he’d been a self-centered asshole.
Finger to his chin, she turned his head so he was looking at her. “None of my high school boyfriends were anywhere near the same town as special.”
He could imagine. He was an idiot when he was in high school. Then he dropped out, got his GED, and became a bigger idiot.
“By the time I graduated,” she said, “took a few college classes, and went on more than a few not-so-great dates, I still hadn’t found what I defined as special.”
He never thought of his virginity as special. Then again, he never thought of much of anything as special. Things just… were.
“I don’t regret it.” Her voice went the slightest bit harder. “But I was pissed at you for a while.”
She should have been. He deserved any anger she threw his way. Though he was glad she hadn’t held on to it. And not just because it would’ve jeopardized him being here with her now.
“I was hurt for a longer while,” she admitted.
And that was the part he hated most. A muscle in his jaw worked as he clamped his teeth together. With the arm wrapped around her shoulders, he gave her a light squeeze. Because he didn’t quite know how to apologize for what he’d done, he simply said, “Scampi.”
“I was pissed at myself for a while, too. But I never regretted that night. Because I knew what I wanted. At the time, it was you.”
He turned his head and felt his mouth compress into a grim line. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she wanted now. What the hell she was doing with him.
Which wasn’t like him. He didn’t question situations. He lived in the present. Action, reaction. Life was simple.
Shifting his body, he cupped her jaw, brought her mouth to his. He kissed her slowly, deliberately. While their mouths mated, the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her naked body brushing his, and the way her fingers slid along the back of his neck, made the pain from his past melt away.
He ended the kiss and heard her sigh, a soft “hmm” sound as her fingertips continued tangling in his hair.
Feeling as if he should acknowledge what she’d said, he muttered, “Shit time for your first.”
“What was yours like?” she asked, her fingers tickling his scalp.
“Sixteen. Wild party. She was high, I was hammered.” The memory was hazy at best. “Don’t even remember her name.”
Sofie trailed her hand from his head to his jaw. “Shit time for your first.”
God, this woman. She got him.
He kissed her before he reasoned he shouldn’t. And when he did, thoughts raced in his head. He shouldn’t be kissing her. The way she made him feel… those feelings were warning signs he continued to ignore. He wished he could make it up to her, that first time in the library, the callused way he’d treated her.
She pushed both hands into his hair and brought his face to hers. As they continued making out, he vowed before he left Evergreen Cove that was exactly what he’d do.
He’d make it up to her.
He’d find a way to give her that first time back.
A good memory to replace the bad.
Flames crackled and popped in the fire pit. Sofie watched the orange and yellow sparks, enjoying the warmth, enjoying her well-earned exhaustion.
“Beer? I don’t have wine.”
A cold bottle appeared in front of her.
“I’ll drink a beer,” she answered, accepting it.
Donovan sat down next to her on one of the huge logs Ant had shaped into rustic benches earlier in the week. The man was magic with a chainsaw. She took a sip of her beer, letting the drink slide down her throat, and looked around the grounds. The outside of the mansion had really come along. The grass was cut, the weeds were cleared, and a few overgrown bushes had been uprooted and burned. She could easily picture a group of kids from Open Arms camped out in the yard or gathered around the fire pit, marshmallows skewered onto the ends of sticks.
“Two days away.” He tipped his own bottle and drank. “Happened fast.”
Things had happened fast. One moment the dinner loomed three months into the future, the same day she’d stepped out of the back room to find this man standing in her shop. And if someone would have told her she would be sleeping with him, practically living with him, by the time the dinner rolled around, she would have laughed until she seized.
Only a crazy person would jump back into bed with Donovan Pate.
Hmm.
“Connor is showing up for the campout,” Donny said. “He offered to help set up the tents, take the kids on a tour, and teach them what plants are poisonous and which aren’t.”
She smiled. Sounded like something Connor would do. “And you?”
“Me?” Donny lifted a black eyebrow. With his long hair and dark clothes, leather jacket—yes, the same one—and weather-beaten boots, he reminded her of a pirate. “I’m supervising the fire. I hope there are enough volunteers to help keep track of the kids.” He frowned as he studied the trees in the distance. “Hate the idea one of them wandering off. Maybe we could put little tracking devices on them or something.”
Sofie laughed, causing him to smile over at her.
Another unexpected side effect of being with Donovan—he made her happy. Legitimately happy.
“That’ll free you up for the girlie shit you gotta do.” He took another drink.
Feigning offense, she said, “Girlie shit? What, you don’t think
I can start a fire? Roast marshmallows? Pitch a tent?”
His throat bobbed when he laughed. “Sweetheart, I know you can pitch a tent.”
She rolled her eyes, but secretly, or maybe not so secretly, she loved when he teased her.
You love him, period.
The thought came out of nowhere, slapping the smile off her face. Or maybe the thought had come from somewhere she’d been trying to ignore for the last week. She bit her lip and grew silent, staring into the fire for answers. She couldn’t afford to love him. She couldn’t afford to give him another single part of her. Not after he’d taken the part she hadn’t realized was precious until she’d trusted it with him.
“What’s your place like in New York?” she asked, desperately needing a change of subject, and to remind herself their time together was dwindling.
He blew out a breath, took another pull of his beer. “It’s like… Not mine.”
“Not yours? What are you, like a squatter?”
“Yeah,” he answered, his expression serious. “Kinda. Alessandre, you know, the B-and-B guy, has a swanky place in the Hamptons. And by swanky I mean multimillion-dollar new-build perched on the ocean. His kitchen is all glass”—he swept an arm in a wide arc—“and the balcony leads out to a concrete patio. Every damn week he throws cocktail parties for the neighbors. People whose outfits cost more than your car.”
He lowered his arm and shook his head. “Last place I pictured myself living, that’s for damn sure. Thought I’d be there for a short time. Ended up staying.”
“How did you meet him?”
“Caroline.”
Wow, she was glad she knew he hadn’t had a girlfriend in the time he’d been away or that name may have caused a spike of jealousy.
“My grandmother’s former chef,” he clarified. “She lived here—at the cottage at the back of the property.”
Right. They’d driven by the cottage when he’d shown her the grounds earlier. Shrouded in pines, Sofie hadn’t been able to see much of the place.
“Caroline was more than hired help to me.” Donny studied the label on the bottle in his hand, but Sofie bet he looked right through it. “She was more my grandmother than Gertrude.”
Rescuing the Bad Boy Page 24
