by Evie Nichole
“So, this is where Justin was prowling around outside?” She took his arm and pushed the button to lock her car.
The vehicle gave a little chirrup, and then Met and Daphne began walking up toward the front door to the right side of the huge four-car garage. Met realized that the fire department had done a pretty darn good job of cleaning up the mess. There were black streaks on the concrete, and some of the furniture had been singed. But the siding did not appear to be damaged. It was sort of difficult to tell what the daylight would reveal once the sun actually came up. Right now, the dawn was still a few hours off.
“I’m so tired,” Daphne said with a yawn. “I can’t imagine how exhausted you must be.”
“I could use some sleep.” He pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door. “Looks like I’ll have my work cut out for me tomorrow cleaning this place up.”
“Your brother is going to think you threw a party,” she teased. “I’m sort of assuming someone at least called him.”
“He’s out at Clouds End Farm with Aria and Bella. He wasn’t about to come in here since I wasn’t hurt and the house wasn’t burned to the ground.”
Daphne shook her head as she stepped into the foyer. “That’s completely unlike the Laredo Hernandez that I’ve been dealing with for the last several years.”
“He’s a changed man.” Met slanted a glance sideways at Daphne. “That’s what happens to a man when he finds the right woman and stops fighting it.”
“Oh, is that right?”
He stretched his back and shoulders. Everything was on fire. They’d offered him some pretty serious painkillers at the hospital, but he’d declined. Knowing that Justin was out there waiting had thrown a whole new light on the concept of sobriety. Met did not want to be sluggish or under the influence of anything but his own adrenaline if that bastard came back.
Met closed the door behind him and locked it. He shot the deadbolt, which he usually did not do. Then he turned on the hall light and headed for the back door. It was locked. Next came the kitchen door. That was also shut tight.
“Paranoid much?” Daphne asked drily.
He gave her what he hoped was a very casual smile. “Only when you’re around.”
“So, can I crash on the couch?” She yawned again. “I don’t want to drive home, and I don’t want to leave you anyway.”
Met growled. Like hell she was sleeping on the couch. He put one arm around her back and the other one under her legs. Then he swept her right off her feet and flung her up into his arms. The action made his shoulder shriek in protest, but he ignored it. His hip gave a twinge, but that didn’t matter either. The only thing he cared about was the woman in his arms.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I’m carrying you to bed,” he informed her.
She put her hand on his cheek, and Met could not think about anything but the way it felt to have her hand on his face. Her fingers were so soft. They brushed over the stubble of his beard before gently tracing the contour of his lips. He kissed her fingers and she smiled.
It was breathtaking how that one expression on Daphne’s face was enough to make him feel like the luckiest guy in the world. He could not imagine being without her. Not now. When had that happened? When had her touch and her smile and her approval become so very important to him?
His feet automatically found their way into the bedroom. He gently set Daphne on the unmade bed. Normally he would not have cared if the bed was unmade or the room was messy. Somehow, that wasn’t how he felt when Daphne was involved. He wished that he had bothered to clean up a little before bringing her up here. He didn’t care to have her thinking that he was a total slob.
She curled up on the mattress and put her head on a pillow. Met shut off the light and pulled off his T-shirt. There were holes burned in it anyway. Then he climbed into the bed.
“I meant to tell you earlier,” Met murmured. “Your pajama bottoms and hoodie are pretty darn adorable.”
She swatted his good shoulder. “Don’t be silly! I know I look ridiculous, but when you called to tell me what had happened, I sort of freaked out and just left the house without even bothering to change my clothes.”
“So, you should have what?” He pulled her up against his chest and wrapped his arms around her body. She felt amazing in the dark, even fully clothed. “You should have found some business casual to change into, showered, maybe put on some makeup, and made sure your hair was perfect?”
“Well, maybe not that much effort.” She seemed to be seriously considering this. Her fingers were lightly drumming against her chest. “But I should have at least put on some decent clothes.”
“I thought it was perfect.” He nuzzled the top of her head before finding her ear in the dark. “I think you look and smell absolutely irresistible. And I wouldn’t have cared if you showed up at that hospital in a pair of raggedy pajama bottoms and a holey T-shirt. You would have been the most welcome sight I’d ever seen.”
“I was so frightened for you when I got your text.” She burrowed into his side and pressed her cheek to his bare chest. “I’ve never known Justin to actually detonate anything. He always just puts gasoline in an open container. I’ve even gotten gas cans in boxes from him. It’s just a way to threaten me and then keep me wondering what’s really happening or if I’m just crazy. Because why would someone put gasoline in an open container? Right?”
“So, he’s been doing this ever since you broke it off with him?” Met was trying to figure out exactly what they were dealing with. “What’s made it escalate?”
She did not answer right away. Met could not help but wonder if there was something she just didn’t feel comfortable telling him about her relationship with this guy.
“I think the escalation is because he just broke it off with the woman he started dating right after me. Then he also feels threatened because of you.” Daphne’s body began to shake.
It took him a moment to realize that his chest was damp because she was crying. “Sweetheart, please don’t cry. It isn’t your fault. Don’t ever think that it is. He’s a sick man. He’s a complete ass, actually. Think about it. He’s abusive towards you and wants you to be afraid of him. He’s perfectly willing to terrify you and be emotionally aggressive because all of that makes him feel like a big man. He’s a coward. Plain and simple. Don’t you worry about me.”
“But I am worried.” She was sobbing now. “I’m ashamed. You got hurt because of me. That was my fault. How could I not feel embarrassed?”
Met rolled onto his side and nudged her onto her back. Then he gazed down at her in the darkness. The only light in the bedroom came from a dull nightlight in the bathroom. The muted yellow glow barely penetrated the deep inky blackness inside the bedroom. It made sleeping very comfortable. Trying to see someone’s expression was slightly problematic.
Instead of relying on his eyes, Met gently kissed her face. He began with her eyes. He kissed her tears away and tasted their salty flavor on his lips. Moving his mouth toward her forehead, he whispered a kiss across the perfection of her skin and then moved down the sides of her face one at a time.
She was perfectly still for this process. He didn’t hurry. He lazily made his way over the beloved and precious contours of her face. He memorized her features and loved his way over the cute ski jump of her nose as he made his way slowly and deliberately toward her lips.
“Met,” she whispered.
He gently took her mouth in a kiss. She immediately lifted her hands up to his neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged lightly at his scalp. He loved the sensations it created when she did that. The tugging provided just enough sting to heighten every single feeling in his body.
He lightly ran his hands over her skin. Touching her ribs, he let his palms settle firmly on her sides before running them up and down in a rhythmic motion that drove him crazy with the need to get her out of her clothing.
But this
was not about his need. It was just a time to bond with Daphne. That was far more important than any physical urges. Those could wait. As far as he was concerned, there would be plenty of time to deal with the physical longing.
She squirmed a little and turned her body into his. Her kisses became more ardent. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, and he gently sucked at the softness. He loved her taste. He loved the way it felt to have her straining against him. They were so close here in the bed. The kissing was lazy and unhurried. It felt as though they had all the time in the world. And they did. They had all night. He would never stop. Not while he could pleasure her with his mouth and his hands.
He found the hem of her sweatshirt and slipped his hand beneath it. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Met groaned as he cupped the fullness of her breast. He kneaded the warm flesh in his hand. Pushing the blood from the bottom to the tip, he thumbed her nipple into a tight little point.
Daphne gasped and arched her back. She pushed her breast into his hand and deepened their kisses until she was making love to him with her mouth. Her tongue tangled insistently with his. He plucked at her nipple with his thumb and index finger. Soon he knew that he wanted to give her more. He wanted to make her feel just as good as she made him feel. No. He needed to give her everything.
Moving his hand from her breast to her waistband, Met pushed her onto her back again. He kissed her lightly as he let his fingers stray toward her mound. She was warm, and her dampness almost instantly coated his fingertips. Using the tip of his third finger, he lightly brushed the bundle of nerves hidden just between her swollen sex.
“Oh God,” she whispered. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”
The words made him smile. The feel of her made him smile. Pretty much everything about this woman made him smile. She drove him crazy and pleased him so much at the same time. He kissed her deeply and drank her cries as she began to come apart in his arms.
Met could feel the undulating waves of release that made Daphne moan and move beneath him. Her hands were locked onto his arms as she held tight and rode out the waves. He loved the honesty in her response. This was so real. It was so right and so perfect, and he never wanted it to stop.
As the tremors began to subside, Met gently removed his finger from her warmth and let his hand rest low on her belly. Her skin was soft, and the heaviness of her breathing was evident with every move of her belly muscles beneath his hand. He rubbed lightly in a circle as he continued to lazily explore her mouth with his tongue.
She moaned and pulled herself closer to him. Her palms rubbed up and down his chest. She felt along his ribs. She gently circled his nipples with her fingertips, and then she lightly pinched.
He sucked in a quick breath as a jolt of pure electricity shot down his spine. He felt as though his bloodstream was flooded with so many endorphins that he was going to come off the bed. Blood surged to his groin, and he struggled to keep everything under wraps. This was not about him. It was about Daphne and this moment and the fact that he wanted to be the one she turned to when everything in her life seemed to be going crazy.
With that in mind, he took her hands and drew them back up around his neck. He ended the kiss and pressed his lips against her forehead. Then he cradled her in his arms and just savored the sensation of having her there. She felt so good against him. Even if there was nothing in it for him in a physical sense, this was enough.
“I love you, Daphne,” Met whispered. “I love your laugh and your smile. I love how stubborn and tough you are. I even love how you bust my balls about my drinking.”
“I love you too.” She whispered the words, but it was exactly what he had longed to hear without even knowing it.
“Then I’m the luckiest cowboy in the world,” he told her gently. “And I don’t even have to stay in the saddle for eight seconds to be the biggest winner on the circuit.”
“I’ll be the first to admit that I hope you never try to spend eight seconds in the saddle again,” she told him softly.
He could feel her breath whispering across his chest. Met knew a moment’s disquiet and felt a familiar sense of despair at the loss of what had been his livelihood. Then he realized that this was only the beginning. With a woman like Daphne at his side, he could go in a new direction and be sure that she would not only support him but do her level best to make sure she helped his dreams come true too.
Chapter Twenty
Daphne awoke with a feeling of grogginess and the thickness of deep sleep that left her uncertain of where she was. The room was unfamiliar. She couldn’t remember the events of the night before. And there was a horrible sensation of having been startled awake by something just beyond her senses.
Then she heard the light breathing of someone beside her, and it all came rushing back. She was at Laredo’s house and Met was sleeping beside her. He was lightly snoring. So, what had woken her? The house was quiet, and there was almost no light seeping around the edges of the blinds.
That was when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Boots. Heavy boots. A big person. Was it Justin? It was hard to say. Her heart began to slam a staccato beat in her chest, and she reached behind her to touch Met’s arm.
“Met?” She whispered his name, her voice hoarse with the fear making her palms sweat. “Met, wake up. There’s someone in the house.”
He blinked sleepily. She could actually see him coming awake as his blue eyes cleared and he sat up. “What?”
“There’s someone in the house.”
“Shit.” Met jumped out of bed and groped around on the floor before coming up with a shirt. “Dad!” he shouted. “Dad, you’d better not be in this fucking house!”
Dad? Was he talking about Joe Hernandez? Would Joe just barge in here without an invitation or other kind of announcement of his presence? Did the man not even knock?
Of course, that was about the time the outline of man was abruptly silhouetted in the doorway. There still wasn’t much light. The clock read after eight o’clock, but the day was dreary and no sun penetrated the house’s plentiful windows to do more than create a wan sort of gray light.
“What the hell, Dad?” Met immediately moved to put himself between Joe Hernandez and his view of Daphne in the bed.
She was wearing her clothing still, but Daphne groped for the sheets and blankets to cover herself. It was tempting to bury herself beneath the covers altogether. What was this man thinking? It was as if he did not believe any kind of rules or propriety applied to him.
“I came to make sure you were okay.” Joe sounded confused. “Laredo said someone attacked you.”
“It wasn’t necessarily for me.” Met’s voice was intentionally vague, which Daphne appreciated more than she could say at the moment. “It was just a coincidence of sorts. A friend of mine is going through some issues with a stalker.”
“What the hell?” Joe growled. “Who would put you in danger like that? Don’t you have enough problems?”
“Hey, now, watch it,” Met growled. “It’s my business. Not yours. I’m fine. I’ll have some clean up and repairs to do to Laredo’s house, but that’s his problem. Not yours. We’re grown-ups, Dad. We don’t need you breathing down our necks every second. Go home and mind your own business.”
“You don’t get to tell me to mind my own damn business!” Joe shoved Met out of the way.
Of course, this suddenly exposed Daphne’s presence in the bed. Joe glanced at Daphne, then at Met. Then he looked back at Daphne. She could tell that this wasn’t going to go well. Over the last few years, she’d gotten a sort of sense about such things. Joe’s expression suggested that he was trying to place her. That meant she was familiar to him. The two of them had met before on several occasions, but only at her office and only with Mr. Abernathy present.
“I know you,” Joe muttered. “Don’t I?” Then he turned to Met. “Who the hell are you screwing now?”
Met’s gaze narrowed, and his hands hung loose and almost aggressively at his side. “Don’t talk ab
out Daphne that way. Don’t you dare disrespect her.”
“Disrespect…” Joe’s brow furrowed, and then it abruptly smoothed as he realized something all at once. “You’re that woman who works for Abernathy! What the hell? I tell him to improve my family’s image and he sends one of his employees to screw my son?”
“Hey!” Met reached out and shoved his father’s arm. “I told you not to talk about her that way. Daphne has done her job. We had a very successful interview and photo session with a guy yesterday out at the ranch. It went well. Things are going to be just fine. Everyone is doing their part, Dad. Everybody but you! You are the one who’s still running around acting like a lunatic!” Met waved his hand at the door. “Look at you! You just barge in here, and for what? To yell at me and bitch that I’m not doing what you want me to? Really? What should I do? Act like you?”
“Apparently, you already are,” Joe said gruffly. He pointed to Daphne. “You’re always bitching that I’m cheating on your mother and screwing around. Look at yourself!”
“Dad, I’m not married.” Met sounded like a patient man trying to explain grown-up logic to a child. “You’re married. You were married when you were screwing Amelia Collins. You cannot possibly pretend that wasn’t wrong. You betrayed my mother!”
“I didn’t betray your mother with Amelia. I loved Amelia!”
Daphne stopped breathing. She felt like everyone else in the room had too. She could absolutely tell that Met had thrown that accusation out there just to see if he could get a reaction from his father. She was not sure if he’d gotten the reaction that he wanted. In any case, the expression on Joe’s face suggested that he had said too much.
“You slept with Amelia Collins?” Met’s voice was cold and hard. “That is who I saw you with that night.”
Daphne wanted to reach out to him, but she did not dare. Now was not the time. She had enough trouble believing that this was happening right in front of her. Did they not even realize that this was not the time or place for such a discussion?
