Finding Forever

by Nika Rhone

  That made twice now he’d kissed her and twice she’d kissed him back. But the kiss this morning was different. More. More intense, and more problematic. Because she could tell from the way he’d avoided spending time alone with her ever since that he was fighting what they both felt. And she knew they’d both felt it. For Pete’s sake, she’d been pressed up against him like she wanted to wear him, so she was well aware of exactly how much Daryl had enjoyed that kiss.

  Her tummy did a happy flip at the memory. Was it really so wrong for her to be drawn to him like this? She might have only known him in a peripheral way over the years, but the past week had put them into such close and almost constant contact that it had to count for at least double, didn’t it? Maybe even triple, considering the intense circumstances. Add to that the fact they’d seen each other practically naked, and it was like they’d been together for almost ever.

  Wow, could she rationalize or what?

  Rolling her eyes at herself, she stopped in the kitchen to check on what she was making for breakfast before setting up a pot of coffee for Daryl and Hank to share when they came in from the barn. She’d noticed father and son spending time each evening talking at the kitchen table when everyone else had gone to bed. Hopefully, they were working out some of the issues keeping Daryl from feeling like he belonged where his family so obviously wanted him. Of course, if that happened, and he ended up moving back to South Dakota, she’d probably never see him again.

  And she found she very much wanted to keep seeing him.

  Not that it would ever happen, of course. Her life was such a mess at the moment she couldn’t even think about a relationship of any kind. If he’d even be interested in one. All she knew was that Daryl was as attracted to her as she was to him, and at this moment in time, that was enough.

  Which was why she found herself standing in front of the door that led to his bedroom from their shared bath shortly after she heard him retire for the night. She had on one of Thea’s satin nightshirts under her robe, and nothing else. The soft material rubbed against her nipples, making them sensitive and erect, and she felt decadent and scared and wanton and nauseated all at the same time.

  Could she do this? Should she?

  Knowing she’d never get another chance like this again, and knowing she’d spend the rest of her life wondering “what if” if she didn’t try to be wild and daring at least once, Amelia reached out and knocked on the door before she could change her mind.

  One way or another, her life wouldn’t be the same come morning. She only hoped the change didn’t destroy her.

  ****

  Daryl closed his phone and put it on the charger on his nightstand with a small scowl. After reporting to Doyle all had been quiet since the attempt to grab Amelia the previous day, he should have felt relieved. Instead, he was more uneasy than ever. The wedding, according to Doyle, was still scheduled to take place in a little over thirty-six hours. Rumors had surfaced that the bride was horribly ill and under a doctor’s care. That would explain her absence from all the pre-wedding festivities, but when it came time for the main event, they either had to produce a bride or admit the truth.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out which option the Davenports would be aiming for.

  Which meant tomorrow was their last chance to rectify the situation or go down in a media fireball. And that meant Daryl wasn’t letting Amelia more than two steps away from either himself or one of the other men. She might not think she was in real physical danger, but a kidnapping could go horribly wrong in the blink of an eye. If the Davenports’ goons tried to grab her again, especially now that she was being so well-guarded, things could get very bad, very fast.

  Thank God for his father’s men. He didn’t have to ask for their help. Once they learned the situation, after the first encounter in front of the house, to a man they’d appointed themselves Amelia’s guardians. Even young Manuelo lost his blush and stammer, and demanded to be included. No one would threaten their sweet Amy if they had anything to say about it.

  Daryl wasn’t sure how he felt about the somewhat possessive way the men talked about her. Even Zeke, who was old enough to be her father, had become smitten after spending the day snapping green beans with her. None of them seemed to remember that “sweet Amy” would be heading home to her real life in a few days, a life that included trust funds and mansions and servants. It did not include dusty ranches in the middle of nowhere, and it especially didn’t include dusty ranchers.

  Or washed-up rodeo stars turned bodyguard.

  It had taken every ounce of strength he had to walk away from the incendiary kiss they’d shared, and more willpower than he believed he possessed to stay away from her the rest of the afternoon. He’d thrown himself into his work with a vengeance. Not only had he handled Zeke’s chores, but most of Chaz’s and Horace’s as well. Even his father had given him strange looks by suppertime.

  Not that all that extra manual labor had helped. The second he walked into the kitchen and saw her standing at the table, filling the breadbasket with biscuits still steaming from the oven, he’d been right back to square one. No amount of exhaustion could stop the southerly blood stampede. It didn’t stop the snap of possessive anger, either, when Manuelo jumped up and all but ripped the casserole dish from her hands, insisting it was too heavy for her to carry.

  Amelia, or Amy as everyone seemed to be calling her now, was a lot more capable than everyone gave her credit for. But being who she was, she’d smiled and thanked the overanxious-to-please teen and taken the seat Zeke held out for her.

  After supper, Daryl went back outside and tried once more to beat his libido into submission. A quick shower later, and he was almost certain he’d be able to get at least a little sleep before the sun rose again. If he didn’t think too hard about the woman sleeping on the other side of the bathroom doors.

  At first, he thought he’d heard the knock in his imagination because of what he’d just been thinking. The second he realized he hadn’t imagined it he leaped from the bed like a bobcat scenting a meal. He knew he shouldn’t open the door. Nothing good could come of whatever happened if he did, because he was all out of willpower and common sense. But that didn’t stop him from walking over and opening it anyway.

  Looking like a startled doe, Amelia blinked those huge, mossy green eyes of hers and swallowed as she looked up at him. “I, um, didn’t wake you, did I?”

  Daryl shook his head.

  “Oh, good.” Her smile looked more like a wince. “I was thinking, that is, I was hoping that maybe…”

  It was hard to concentrate on what she said. His eyes kept dipping to the neckline of her robe, trying to determine if she had anything on underneath it. He couldn’t tell, and it was driving him crazy.

  “Oh, this was a bad idea. Never mind.” She started to turn and retreat. Daryl caught her arm and halted her progress, turning her back to face him.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” He felt her trembling faintly under his touch. There was one sure way to cure that. “Well, come on, spit it out, Princess, I haven’t got all night.” It was hard not to grin at the spark of fire in her eyes, burning away the unease and uncertainty that had been keeping her tongue-tied.

  But instead of telling him, she showed him.

  Stepping forward, she took his face in her hands and planted a kiss on him that had him reeling. She’d seemed a bit untutored when they kissed earlier, but it was obvious she was a fast learner. When her tongue touched his lips, begging entrance, he not only let her in, he practically devoured her whole, but her hands on his face kept her in control of the kiss, allowing her to pull back just a little and set the level of carnality at a low simmer.

  Fast approaching the point of no return, Daryl put his hands over hers and eased himself back from the kiss. Looking down into her flushed face, he struggled to get out words instead of just a primal growl of desire.

  “This won’t just be a kiss.” He stared into her arousal-hazed eyes, willing her to unde
rstand what he was telling her. “If we do this, you’re going to be mine in every way. Are you sure you want that?”

  “I want that.” She smiled and slid her hands over his shoulders to twine around his neck. “I want you.”

  It wasn’t the words, as important as they were, but the look of absolute sensual commitment on her face that sent him over the edge. By the time they made it to his bed, her robe was gone, as was his T-shirt, although he didn’t remember who removed what when. He wanted to take the time to look at her. To touch every silken inch of skin that had been driving him crazy ever since he’d seen her in her underwear days ago. But for the first time since he was Manuelo’s age, he had no control, no finesse.

  It was difficult, but Daryl forced himself to slow down. This was a night he wanted to savor and enjoy. Breaking his mouth from hers, he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged Amelia to stand between his legs. Perfect. Her breasts, lovingly molded by the blue satin of the nightshirt were right there, just begging to be touched. Bringing his hands up to cover them, he squeezed, ever so gently. Her nipples, already erect, hardened further against the palms of his hands through the cool satin as though trying to break free. Happy to oblige, Daryl slid his hands down Amelia’s sides until he caught the bottom edge of the nightshirt, then reversed direction, sliding it slowly up, but Amelia’s hands went to his and stilled the action with just a touch. Okay, she wasn’t ready for being naked. He could work around that. Fuck, he’d be happy to do whatever the hell she wanted, just so long as he got to keep on touching her.

  Releasing the hem of the nightshirt, he curved his hands underneath it and around her sweet little ass, and nearly came right then and there when he realized she wasn’t wearing any panties. His fingers clenched the silken globes, drawing a small gasp from her as her hands went to his bare shoulders to steady herself.

  The feel of her fingers on his skin was like a branding iron. Their eyes met, their bodies stilled, and Daryl had one moment of clarity to wonder if he was making the biggest mistake of his life before Amelia’s hand skimmed up his throat, along his cheek, and brushed back the hair he’d been meaning to get cut but hadn’t found the time to. Now he was glad, because she seemed to enjoy sifting her fingers through the long strands.

  He let her play for a few minutes, touching and exploring his neck, shoulders, and chest, but when she ran a single finger across one of his nipples, he knew he’d almost reached his limit. The zing of that contact was enough to make his cock pulse, the movement clearly visible through his worn cotton pajama pants. When Amelia’s gaze shot down and then up to his face, there was a look of such sweet wonderment there that he would have laughed if he’d been able to.

  “Yes, you do that to me.” He took her hand and placed it over the tented material. “You’ve been doing that to me for days. Ah, Christ!” He gasped the last words as her hand closed over him and squeezed, thankfully with great care. She startled and began to release him, but he placed his hand over hers to let her know it was okay. Hell, it was more than okay. She could get him off by hand and he’d die a happy man.

  Well, no, that was a lie. He needed to be inside her at least once before that happened. Maybe twice. Three times and he’d be dead for sure, but the undertaker would have a hell of a time getting the smile off his face.

  It wasn’t in his nature to be passive, but when Amelia stroked his erection with those long, nimble fingers, he let her explore as she wanted right up until he couldn’t stand it any longer and stilled her hand. Kissing her softly, he inched back on the bed, drawing her with him, the kiss both lure and reward. Their lips never separated as he settled on his left hip and deepened the kiss, letting her know everything he wanted to do to her, with her, with every stroke of his tongue, every touch of his hand.

  She might not have been very experienced, but Amelia didn’t shy from the increasing carnality. If anything, she responded with such a natural sensuality Daryl thought he just might burst into flames if she got any hotter. Which she did a few minutes later. Rising over him on her knees, she skimmed the nightshirt up and over her head, tossing it to the floor, watching him with a subtle air of challenge as she did it.

  Daryl damn near swallowed his tongue.

  Incredible.

  Glorious.

  His.

  Realizing she was still watching, Daryl let a smile of lustful intent crook his lips. He imagined it might have been the look one of his ancestors would have given when he decided to stake his claim on his chosen woman. “You are…amazing.”

  It was a thoroughly inadequate word, but it seemed to allay whatever fear had been lurking behind her eyes. She treated him to what could only be called a wicked smile before glancing meaningfully at his pajamas. It took him all of two seconds to skim them off. Her smile froze as she got her first look at him, and Daryl had a moment’s worry she was going to shy at the last fence. He wasn’t freakishly huge, but he was a big guy and his equipment was proportional. Some women liked the idea of a well-hung man in theory, only to have second thoughts when faced with the reality rather than the fantasy.

  This was why he generally avoided small-statured women as bed partners. And Amelia, while not petite, was still dainty in build. Doubts crowded past his arousal. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. In fact, he knew it wasn’t. What right did a great, hulking beast like him have touching someone like Amelia? She was the fairy princess, and he was…well, he was Shrek.

  He had no idea what he might have said if Amelia hadn’t taken that exact moment to grasp his erection with one of those dainty hands and bring her mouth down over the tip and lick him like a Popsicle. His hips bucked at the unexpected sensation.

  “Fuck!”

  Amelia rolled her eyes to meet his as she gave the tip another flick with her tongue, making him hiss out another curse as the pleasure caused a close call that would have ended the evening much sooner than planned. Once he stopped writhing, she smiled sweetly up at him as though she wasn’t poised to destroy him with just her mouth. “Mmm. Amazing.”

  It was the last thing she said as she placed her mouth back over his cock and proceeded to drive him insane. Gritting his teeth, he let her, focusing all his concentration on not coming despite the desperate need to her warm, wet licks and gentle suckles drew from him. By the time he had to hoarsely demand she stop, he had hold of the sheets with both hands and had twisted them into a knotted mess.

  With one last kiss pressed to the weeping tip of his cock, she said with a wicked spark in her eyes, “Very amazing.”

  The kiss nearly did him in.

  Moving with the speed and agility he’d used to win all those buckles roping calves, he jackknifed up and grabbed Amelia, twisting and placing her flat on her back before she had time to do more than squeak. “If you want to play, Princess, then I’m happy to oblige. Just remember one thing.” He straddled her body, running his hands up her torso, over her breasts, and finally planted them on either side of her head as he leaned down over her.

  “I play to win.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Staring up into Daryl’s eyes, which no longer looked brown but had darkened to almost black, a shiver of sensual thrill ran through Amelia, making her breasts ache and everything below her navel tingle in anticipation. If he’d meant to scare her off with that warning, he failed. Miserably. So much arousal thrummed through her at that moment he’d have to pitch her into a tub of ice water to even begin to cool her interest.

  What had happened to her? She’d never been sexually aggressive before. Up until twenty minutes ago, she would have sworn she didn’t know how. But something snapped the moment he kissed her like he wanted to crawl inside and live there for the rest of his life. She’d forgotten who she was, who he was, who they were supposed to be, and how they were supposed to act. In that moment, there was just a man and a woman, and the woman had wanted the man. Badly.

  So she’d taken him.

  All she knew about oral sex had been learned from research i
n preparation for her wedding night, but from Daryl’s reaction, she’d done a decent job of it, lack of practical experience notwithstanding. What none of the books had ever mentioned, though, was the overwhelming sense of power that came from performing the act. She had taken a large, strong man and reduced him to a writhing mass of moaning, panting need. Her. It was a heady experience, and she’d been loath to end it so soon, but there had been a thread of desperation in his voice that had hinted if she didn’t stop on her own, he’d do the stopping for her.

  Which was perfectly okay because she knew she could do it again if she wanted to. And she did want to. Very much. There were so many things she’d read about she wanted to try. But right now, she was on pins and needles wondering what Daryl might do in retaliation for her sensual assault. There was a hint of playfulness in his words, but there was also a dark promise in his expression that made her shiver again in anticipation.

  She licked her lips. “Stop calling me Princess.”

  The breathy order only drew a smile from him as he lowered his upper body until his mouth just barely touched hers. “Make me.”

  His lips skimmed her cheek to the tender flesh just below her ear, which he nipped lightly before working his way down her neck to the upper swells of her breasts. The gasp she let out when his mouth found her left nipple turned to a moan as he alternately laved and suckled the hard peak into an exquisite state of hypersensitivity. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it another second, he switched to the other breast. Again, he worshipped and teased until she was ready to scream. Rolling his eyes up to meet her gaze, he gave one last, long lick in mimicry of what she’d done to him.

  She whimpered.

  With a grin he continued kissing a path down her belly, hands smoothing over her ribcage, thumbs dipping toward her navel. She didn’t have time to worry about whether he found her ribs too prominent or her hips too bony. All his attention was focused on his final destination. When he got there, she didn’t have room for any other thought in her brain. There was only the feel of his tongue against her sensitive folds, driving her out of her mind.