Just Can't Forget You: (Oakland Hills Short Story 2)

by Gretchen Galway

  But her small closet only held one item of clothing that was suitable for a nice restaurant. Obviously, she had no choice. She had to wear the black wrap dress that clung to her body like morning dew on rose petals. It was either that or a men’s shirt and old jeans.

  She wondered what it would be like to wear one of his shirts. And nothing else, of course. After he’d worn it, so she could smell him.

  She still didn’t know what he did for a living, and her curiosity was almost as powerful as the romantic, erotic longing. They could converse over small plates of mixed olives and cheese. So, are you FBI? A body extra in Hollywood?

  Polite chit-chat with a customer.

  She could keep it professional, even if they were friendly.

  She could.

  It was fun to slip on the sexy dress, spritz her neck with perfume, caress her most expensive moisturizer onto her skin. She hadn’t been on a date in over a year.

  She lifted her breasts higher in the push-up bra, tugged the neckline lower. And yes, she was wearing her semi-transparent lace panties, the ones that were usually buried in the drawer under the white cotton grannies.

  The sound of a motorcycle engine made her gasp.

  “Get a grip, girl,” she told herself, checking her lipstick in the mirror before walking over to the door. Her studio apartment was inside the converted garage of a large brown Craftsman. Nothing great but not too bad.

  Very private.

  She waited until he rang the doorbell before she opened the door.

  “Good ev—” Eduardo cut himself off and stared at her.

  Nerves made her shift her weight from one kitten heel to the other. “What?”

  He pinned her with his gaze. “You know what.”

  “I wasn’t going to go out looking dirty.”

  One dark eyebrow arched.

  “Not that kind of dirty,” she amended.

  He stepped into the doorway, glancing past her. “Can I come in?” The deep voice that had appealed to her from the beginning slipped over her skin like a sultry breeze.

  “Aren’t we—” She cut herself off. Her heart was pounding against her ribs. “Be my guest,” she said, and moved aside to let him in.

  He took a step into the living-room-bedroom-kitchen and turned. Cramped in the entrance, he was only inches away, seeming even larger in her tiny home.

  Swallowing over her dry throat, she said, “It’s not much, but—”

  His mouth came down on hers in a firm, hungry kiss. Stunned, she froze in place, feeling his hand slide up the side of her neck and cup her cheek. She felt the touch of his tongue along her lips.

  Oh. Oh. Oh.

  Then both of his hands were holding her face, and he turned her slightly to one side as he deepened the kiss. Whiskers scraped against her skin.

  She felt him everywhere: over her spine, through her torso to her thighs, down to her toes. Her knees buckled as sensation poured through her.

  He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. Waiting the way a predator would wait—not for permission, but for another strike.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She’d planned on using the hours at the restaurant to make up her mind. But this was now, this was right now. Her heart was beating too fast.

  Her panic had nothing to do with her job at the nursery. Ian probably wouldn’t care if she slept with Eduardo. Even if her personal life intersected with a customer’s, he didn’t want to know anything about it. And how would he even find out? Ian stuck earbuds in his ears whenever Jake and Mary started talking about their personal lives. He disappeared into the pond supplies if the talk went on too long.

  No, this was all about her. This was about taking risks.

  How long could she live in fear of repeating the past?

  Too long. She tunneled her fingers into his hair, pulled his head down, and stretched up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway.

  Chapter 10

  A low moan emerged from Eduardo’s throat as his arms came around her, hauling her against him as his tongue slipped between her lips. She felt his hand press against the small of her back, slip around her waist, then move up her ribs to her breast. He squeezed, rubbing his thumb along her puckering nipple under the thin fabric.

  Caught up in the blaze of feeling, she pressed herself against him and thought about taking him and being taken now where they stood, against the wall, climbing up him and riding him in mindless abandon, right there next to the small table by the door where she put her keys and the junk mail.

  But then sense returned, stopping her from kicking off her shoes, hooking both legs around his hips, and riding him into the sunset. She didn’t even know what he did for a living. She’d enjoyed her fantasy about him being in law enforcement or international fashion, but what if he’d become some kind of lowlife criminal? What if he was dangerous?

  That last thought didn’t have the chilling effect it should have. To the contrary; now she was licking his back molars. She didn’t care. She wanted to eat him. He was the most delicious man she’d ever tasted.

  Dangerous…

  “Melissa?” His deep voice rumbled in her left ear. His teeth caught her lobe lightly and nibbled.

  Mmm. She melted into him. He smelled wonderful, felt even better.

  “Is this going where I think it’s going?” he asked, dropping kisses along her throat to the hollow between her breasts. “Right now?”

  She curled one of her feet behind the other, trying to kick off the shoe, imagining staying right here.

  And then she realized she’d heard ambivalence in his voice—that magnetic, mesmerizing voice. She returned both feet to the ground and opened her eyes. He stared at her, tousled dark hair falling over his forehead.

  At that exact moment, her stomach growled.

  For crying out loud, as her grandfather used to say.

  She moved away from him a few inches, trying to catch her breath. Nice of him to break the spell. What a gentleman.

  That was even more dangerous.

  “Well, that was nice,” she said with her usual seductive charm.

  “Very nice.” His grin was brief, and she saw his jaw clench. “Melissa…”

  Oh, God, now he’s going to apologize. “Maybe we were going a little fast.” She’d responded with the grateful enthusiasm of a desperate woman. Why did she always have to overreact? “Are you still up for dinner?”

  He shifted his hips. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Great,” she said brightly. “Shall we go?”

  They stared at each other in the dim hallway.

  He shook his head. “We’re staying right here,” he said, and grabbed her again.

  * * *

  Eduardo kissed her without reservations this time, realizing this was the moment. She tasted like peppermint and smelled like the sweet jasmine he’d asked her to plant in his backyard. Her warm velvet skin was softer than the clingy fabric hugging her curves, and he wanted to expose all of it, lick her everywhere.

  “Oh, thank God,” she moaned, snaking her arms around his neck.

  Smiling as he kissed her, he pushed his hand under the neckline of her dress, drawing it sideways across one breast to expose a sliver of a black bra. The bed was under the window, too large for the small apartment but just right for lovemaking. He liked room to stretch out and be stretched.

  He marched her there, hooking his leg behind her feet so she fell backward onto the mattress with a squeal. He climbed over her, pinning her beneath him, crushing her with another kiss.

  He found the bottom hem of her dress and yanked it up, exposing pale thighs and dark underwear.

  Those have to go.

  That was the last coherent thought he had for a long time.

  * * *

  Breathing like an unprepared marathoner, Melissa unbuttoned Eduardo’s shirt with fumbling fingers until his chest was bare. She splayed her fingers against his abdomen, slid them up over the hair and muscles, so sexy, up to his broad shoulders. In
a moment she’d shoved the fabric away and down. He leaned back, giving her a show of flexing pecs and biceps as he shook the shirt free and returned to his post pinning her to the bed. His jeans were rough against her naked thighs, his belt buckle rubbing her stomach.

  “Let me up for a second,” she said, gasping.

  He frowned but rolled to the side, sliding his hands up her leg and then stroking between them as she sat—tried to sit—up. His clever fingers nearly stopped her, but she was motivated.

  Her dress came off with two jerks of the stretchy belt around her waist, and she removed her bra and underwear, too, as quickly as she could before attacking Eduardo’s dark jeans. When he realized what she was doing, he leaned back on the bed with his hands behind his head, lips slightly parted, dark eyes darting between her face and her hands.

  She’d never felt so wicked. He was hard and huge under the fly of his jeans. Palming him slowly but firmly over the fabric, she met his gaze.

  “I think I’m in love.” His voice was deliciously husky.

  Knowing it was just the heat of the moment, she smiled, tilted her head to one side, and continued to stroke him. “Just you wait.”

  He braced his feet on the bed, arched his back, and in three seconds his jeans and underwear were falling to the floor. He held a foil condom packet between his teeth.

  Smooth.

  That was the last coherent thought she had for a long time.

  Chapter 11

  MELISSA’S stomach growled.

  “How embarrassing,” she said, twirling Eduardo’s hair between her fingers. She wasn’t embarrassed at all. Everything was fine in the universe. The world was perfect. Existence, a joy.

  Eduardo’s head was resting on her shoulder. While she ran her fingers through it, smiling at the ceiling, he cupped her breast and licked her nipple.

  No, she didn’t care about her stomach growling. At that moment she wouldn’t care if an asteroid struck San Francisco and obliterated civilization. Not that San Francisco was civilized, but there would be larger repercussions, like dust clouds that destroyed ecosystems around the world. Which she still didn’t care about.

  “I feel bad for feeling so good,” she said.

  He lifted his head and frowned up at her. The curve of his cheekbone was beautiful. She shifted sideways so she could trace it with her finger, grinning like a fool. Mine.

  “I feel good about feeling good.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “You should too.”

  “Didn’t use to be my style,” she said. “But I’ve been working on it.”

  “Let me help you with that.” He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him.

  Laughing, she wiggled on top on his broad hairy chest until she was comfortable. She felt movement down below and decided that comfort wasn’t the only good feeling a person could have. Agonizing pleasure was a delightful alternative.

  “Tell me,” she said. “Now that we’ve gotten to know each other’s adult selves a little better, what do you do for a living?”

  He tightened his arms around her. “Guess.”

  “No. Just tell me.”

  “I want you to guess.”

  “Too bad. I want you to tell me.”

  He reached around her thigh, slipped his hand between her legs from behind, and began strumming her like a world-famous classical guitarist.

  Eyes closing involuntarily, she whispered, “Musician?”

  “Seriously. What did you think when you met me?”

  She collapsed on top of him like cheese on a tuna melt. No, not fish; beef. A cheeseburger.

  Damn. Stomach was growling again.

  A long minute passed, during which all thoughts of guitars and cheeseburgers disappeared into the hot smoke of increasing, spiraling tension.

  Right before his fingers pushed her over the edge, Eduardo said, “Guess.”

  Throat tight, she whispered, “Cop?”

  Chuckling, he licked the curve of her ear, did something outrageous with his hands, and catapulted her into the light.

  Whee.

  When she’d recovered—well, her eyes were half-open—she asked, “Was I right?”

  “Sorry,” he said, stroking her belly. “I’m a high school teacher.”

  “Get outta here.”

  “Rather not,” he said.

  “High school?”

  He nodded.

  “Some kind of juvenile detention facility?”

  Now he sighed. “Everyone thinks I’m a cop. I don’t know why.”

  “Actually, I considered the possibility you were a spy.”

  “For our country, I hope.”

  She bit her lip.

  He growled and pulled her on top of him. “Hey.”

  “Of course! You’re very patriotic!”

  “I should be,” he said. “I teach American history.”

  “I also considered the possibility that you were an internationally famous underwear model.”

  “But now that you’ve seen me naked, you know better? Thanks a lot.”

  “Now I know you have a backup career waiting for you,” she said. “Touring the world naked.”

  He kissed her. “I do like to travel. How about you?”

  “Love it.”

  “Your car has Nevada plates,” he said. “That makes me nervous.”

  “You’ve never been the nervous type.”

  “I’m not.” He captured her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “But I’m nervous about losing you.”

  Her heart kicked into high gear again. “We barely know each other.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  She sank into his touch. “You’re right,” she said softly.

  Neither said anything for moment.

  “Let’s get dressed and go out, get dinner, start filling in the blanks,” he said.

  Impossible optimism suffused her. She should’ve been terrified, should’ve been overrun with worry and doubt, but being with him made her feel calm, happy, loved…

  “I can’t believe you’re a teacher,” she said. It made her happier than she would’ve thought possible. And history—she loved history. She’d given up graduate school but read biographies for pleasure, adored videos about ancient Egypt, saved up for trips to Europe and Asia. And now to find out Eduardo Diaz didn’t only have brawn and beauty, but brains, too…

  He got out of bed and leaned over to pick up his boxers. “I can’t believe you thought I was an underwear model.”

  Watching him move around naked, flexing as he pulled the boxers over his hips, she completely forgot about his brains. But then he paused, giving her a goofy, vulnerable smile. “You aren’t disappointed, are you?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “About me not being a cop?”

  She jumped out of bed and went over to him. “No,” she said, shaking her head, horrified she’d given him any doubt. “Teachers are hot.”

  He kissed her hard on the mouth before saying, “Damn right. And hungry.”

  They walked out into the night, hand in hand, to begin filling in the blanks of the missing years.

  With their eyes and hearts on the future.

  Author Note

  Thank you for reading! The preceding story, Just Can’t Forget You, is a short story set in the world of my bestselling Oakland Hills series.

  Get the first full-length novel in the series for FREE!

  Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1): When a couch potato inherits a fitnesswear company in San Francisco, sparks fly with her arrogant, Olympic medalist vice president.

  The ebook is now free at all online retailers!

  All the best and happy reading,

  --GG

  Also by Gretchen Galway

  Read the whole series!

  LOVE HANDLES (Oakland Hills #1) — Liam and Bev

  THIS TIME NEXT DOOR (Oakland Hills #2) — Mark and Rose

  NOT QUITE PERFECT (Oakland Hills #3) — April and Zack

  CAN’T STOP WANTIN
G YOU (Oakland Hills Short Story 1) (set at Liam and Bev’s wedding)

  CAN YOU LOVE ME NOW? (Oakland Hills Short Story 2)

  Other fun, sexy contemporary romances:

  THE SUPERMODEL’S BEST FRIEND

  DIVING IN

  ** Click here to visit Gretchen Galway’s Author Page on Amazon **

  About the Author

  GRETCHEN GALWAY is a USA Today bestselling author who writes romantic comedies because love is too painful to survive without laughing. Raised in the American Midwest, she now lives in California with her husband and two kids.

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  JUST CAN’T FORGET YOU

  Copyright © 2015 by Gretchen Galway

  Eton Field, Publisher

  www.gretchengalway.com

  Cover Design: Gretchen Galway

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author.

  All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.