Love & Rockets

by Maggie Wells

  Straightening, she fixed him with a comically incredulous glare. “Your mother leaves food on your doorstep?”

  “Only when I haven’t been coming around as much as she’d like.”

  Peeling back the lid, she hummed her approval of the meal. “Poor little foundling pot roast. At least you had your potatoes and carrots to keep you company.”

  She turned to him, eyes widening with expectation. Snapping his waistband into place, he stepped past her to open a cabinet. “Plates are in here.”

  “Utensils?”

  “Drawer next to the dishwasher.”

  Darla pulled a fork from the drawer, then turned to the plates he’d laid out, her forehead wrinkled with what he feared might be disapproval. It was. “You’ve been avoiding your mother?”

  “Avoiding makes it sound more intentional than it is.” He carefully removed the fork and the container from her hands and began to divvy up their supper. “I’m a grown man. I don’t see my parents all the time.”

  She turned and rested her hips against the edge of the counter. “But she’s leaving food on your doorstep in an attempt to lure you out.”

  “I’m not a stray cat.” He busied himself with tearing off strips of paper towel and covering the plates with them before popping one into the microwave. “I’ll call her. She probably wants me to come to dinner on Sunday.”

  “You didn’t call her to thank her for the pot roast?”

  “I texted,” he answered, a tad too defensively.

  The thing was, he couldn’t risk seeing his parents in person. Jake knew without a doubt his mother would take one good look at him and know there was someone. His mom could read him like a book. Always had, always would. Then, she’d want to know why he hadn’t brought the new woman in his life home to meet her. And while he’d dated a few women he wouldn’t have been anxious to introduce to his mother, that wasn’t the case here. He would have happily taken Darla and Grace to Sunday supper at his parents’ house. Actually, he’d caught himself picturing the scene fairly often in past few weeks. But Darla made it clear she wasn’t up for any kind of outward acknowledgment of their relationship.

  “Oh, well, you texted,” she said with mock solemnity. “You are every mother’s dream.”

  She tipped her chin up and leaned over so she was directly in his line of vision. Though he knew she was trying to get into his head, he was a little grateful for the effort. This way he wouldn’t have to keep giving her the side-eye to check her reaction. “Do you want to go to dinner at my parents’ house on Sunday?”

  “I’m not the one she’s trying to lure,” she retorted.

  “Right, but if I go over there, she’s going to take one good look at me and know about you.” The microwave dinged, and he jabbed at the button to open the door. “Well, not you-you, but there’s someone.” He switched the plates and set the timer once more before turning to look her full in the face. “And I don’t think that’s what you want.”

  She cocked her head and blinked up at him. “You’re an expert on what I want?”

  Her question tripped a trigger of hope deep inside him. Damn, she looked so cute it made him want to pick her up, stuff her into his pocket and run away to someplace no one would find them. Well, after they grabbed Grace, he amended in his head. He’d take them far, far away. Someplace where no one would ask who their people were or speculate about what ‘that Dalton boy’ might be doing with ‘the Kennet girl who got herself in trouble.’

  “You keep telling me you don’t want things to get messy.”

  “So naturally, with your superior intellect and excellent deductive reasoning...” She made a slow, circling motion with her hand, inviting him to fill in the blanks.

  Seeing the light of challenge in her eyes, he felt the flicker of hope sputter and fade. His back stiffened as the microwave sounded the alert again. He looked down at the steaming plate he’d removed moments ago. Logically, he knew there was no way this discussion would reach an end he found satisfactory. The whole thing felt like a trap.

  Resentment simmered inside him. He wasn’t the one who’d felt the need to make this relationship something less. He was the one who’d wanted more. He wanted to take her to dinner and the movies like any normal couple. He wanted to spend evenings with her and Gracie in the same room, and have Darla tell him things about herself rather than having to play twenty questions with her kid to find out her middle name. He’d wanted more than this from the very start. He still did. And he shouldn’t feel like he had to apologize or make excuses.

  “Do you want to meet my family?” he asked bluntly.

  “I’ve met them.” She backed her retort up with a smirk. “Your mama is a sweet lady. She made the best cookies of any room mother. And you get your thing for extra sauce from your daddy.”

  “Darla—”

  She snatched the cooled plate from the counter and pulled another fork from the drawer. “I still think Brian is a bit of a jerk, but I might have some leftover resentment from high school.” She stabbed a bit of carrot and shoveled the morsel into her mouth. Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. She danced as she moved the food from cheek to cheek, waving her hand in front of her mouth to cool it. “He always wrecked the curve,” she explained with her mouth full.

  “He’s still a jerk, but Brooke is getting him straightened out little by little,” he said, removing the paper towel covering the second plate, he gave the food an experimental poke with the tines of his fork. Easier than looking directly at her as she rejected him once again. “You know what I’m asking, Darla. Would you and Grace like to come to dinner at my parents’ house?”

  Silence stretched long and taut between them. Jake recognized the taste and texture of rejection immediately. They hadn’t shared this kind of awkward gap since their first night together. A quiet tinged with wariness, uncertainty, and more than a hint of bitterness. When he looked up, he found her shaking her head, her gaze fixed on the plate she held.

  “I don’t think I’m as hungry as I thought.”

  Tossing his fork onto his untouched plate, he wiped his hands on one of the crumpled paper towels. “Me either.”

  She drew a deep breath. The kind that said her mind was made up. And, as if she knew he’d need at least some closure on all talk of legitimizing their affair, she tipped her chin up, dark eyes flashing with challenge. “Back to bed?”

  He shrugged as if she hadn’t gutted him and took the plate from her unresisting hands. “Sure. Why not?”

  What man in his right mind turned down strings-free sex? Not him. He might be an idiot, but he was no fool. And if this turned out to be the last time he’d ever make love to Darla Kennet, he wanted to make damn sure they both remembered how good things were between them.

  Pressing his hand to the small of her back, he propelled her down the short hall to the bedroom. Though it made his heart turn over, he refused to buy into the joy of her giggle when she had to do a quick-step to stay ahead of him. As he opened the buttons on the shirt she’d swiped from him, he forced all thoughts of the tangle they’d found themselves in their first night together from his mind. This night wasn’t going to be a bumbling, fumbling attempt to get something started.

  No, tonight had to be the beginning of the end. He didn’t want to hide from his family or the world any longer. And he wouldn’t let her hide from him. Not this time.

  Ignoring the urgent press of her lips against his, he kissed her soft and long, taking his own sweet time. He kissed the corners of her mouth and they curved up. He drew lightly on her full upper lip and she moaned. He kissed her over and over, using up every last ounce of patience he had. Despite her wriggling and sometimes overt posturing, he stayed steady on the assault. He tasted the sleek, creamy column of her throat, nipped at unspeakably soft earlobes, and sucked the pulse throbbing beneath her jaw to the point where she squirmed away.

  He cupped her breasts, marveling at the sheer bounty of them. The
y filled his palms, heavy and ripe. Dark pink nipples rippled and furled up tight. He covered one with his mouth, savoring the rasp of the hard tip against his tongue, then groaning deep in his throat as the flesh grew warm and pliant again under his ministration. Wanting to keep her riding the same razor-sharp edge of need, he released her breast with a loud pop, then blew a gust of cool air over the damp skin.

  Darla pressed her heels into the bed, arching her body up while pulling his head down to her breast once more. Or, at least, trying to pull him down. But she wouldn’t yield to his needs, so Jake saw no reason to give in to hers.

  Let her ache for him. Let her want.

  Empowered by the perverse pleasure he found in denying her the way she denied him, he shifted lower on the bed. He peppered her stomach with kisses, even though he knew she was ticklish there. Nestling his dick into the rumpled sheet rather than the plush warmth of her thigh, he looked up at her as he tongued her navel, daring her to stop him from doing exactly what he wanted with her.

  She didn’t.

  Pinned beneath him, Darla writhed and bucked. Demanding. Always demanding. And he gave in to her every time. Giving her exactly what she wanted and taking what he could get. Since the night of their first date, she hadn’t kissed him first. Time after time, he’d worshiped at the altar of her body with his hands and his mouth, but she seldom did more than run her hands over him. And then, they were only those maddeningly cautious, feather-light strokes that made him hard and left him aching for more long after they were done.

  Blind with need and frustration, he ground against the bed as he slipped lower still. He nuzzled the tangle of dark curls. The hellish part was, he loved touching her, stroking her, and kissing her until she was his to command. She wanted him. He had no doubt. She liked him. He knew for certain. But he wanted more. He wanted her to love him.

  All of him.

  All the time.

  Not only on Friday nights after Grace had gone to stay with Connie Cade.

  He wanted her to want to be with him past nine on Saturday morning.

  Growling as the realization struck home, he buried his face in her sweet folds. Darla moaned and spread her legs wider, opening her body to him even though she refused to open her heart. He ran his tongue from her bottom up to her clit, then held, pressing into to the hyper-sensitive flesh unmoving. Then, it occurred to him that, in all the times they’d had sex in this very bed, not once had she ever gone down on him.

  The thought struck him like a blow, and not the good kind. Lifting his head, he turned and pressed a hard, angry kiss to the inside of her thigh. Then he pushed up and began to crawl over her, ignoring her protests and questions until he knelt straddling her chest. His dick bobbed and a ripple of excitement pulsed through him when he saw the flash of panic in Darla’s eyes.

  “You never suck me.”

  “I, uh—” She licked already wet lips, then eyed his dick with trepidation. Her hesitation made him feel like a caveman and a god all at the same time. “Sure I have,” she blustered. She tried to shrug, but he had her arms pinned to the bed with his shins. “I know I—”

  “Not once.”

  Her jaw snapped shut and she glared up at him, mutiny written all over her face.

  “Do I repulse you?”

  He asked the question in a mild tone. She could answer in the affirmative if she wanted to, but he knew the truth. Her desire was evident in the way her hungry gaze traveled over him. All over him. When she didn’t answer, he smiled down at her. But not a happy smile. Or even a triumphant one. It was the flavorless smile of a man who already knew the answers but appreciated confirmation nonetheless.

  Shifting his weight, he rose onto his knees and loomed over her. From this angle, his dick looked obscene, superimposed over her pretty, pixie face. But he didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, Darla taking only what she wanted from him was every bit as wrong as demanding she reciprocate. Sexually, at the very least.

  “Suck me,” he ordered. “I wanna feel your mouth on me.”

  “I, um, Jake—”

  She halted, looking up at him with a pleading expression he’d never seen before. But he didn’t care. Darla Kennet was hell-bent on breaking his heart. The least she could do was kiss his dick and make things a little better.

  “Open.”

  To his utter surprise, she did. Those petal pink lips parted and a rush of warm breath washed over the very tip of him. Just the tip. A thousand crude jokes played through his head as he grasped the headboard and leaned in. But he told himself even a little would be enough. If she’d only give him that much, he’d take it and be happy. Well, not happy, he conceded as she wrapped those plush lips around him. But it’s better than nothing.

  Holding himself poised over her, he watched as the head of his cock disappeared into her mouth. She closed her eyes and drew gently on him. A low groan of surrender rolled up from the very depths of his soul. Pressing his palms into the edge of the headboard, he tried to push back and away. But Jesus. Sweet Lord, the gravitational pull of her was too much.

  Gritting his teeth, he tried again to break away, but now she had him and Darla wasn’t about to back down. Her cheeks hollowed as she lifted her head from the jumble of pillows. Her eyes locked on his and he knew then his plan would backfire. Sure, he’d get the blowjob he’d asked for, but she was in no way humbled or even incensed by his crass demands. In fact, if he was reading her right, and in the past few weeks he’d become an expert on the nuances of Darla Kennet, he’d say she looked a little relieved. And a lot turned on.

  He groaned and gave in. Her mouth was wet and welcoming. Her tongue as smooth as velvet. She ran the tip up the length of him, then enfolded the very tip of him in its plush heat. Mindless of her pinioned arms, he thrust into her. How had he thought he’d somehow bring her to her senses by allowing her to drive him out of his? This whole thing between them was clearly making him crazy.

  He fucked her mouth. Fucked her so recklessly he barely felt like himself. Oh, but the sensations. Those were real. Very real. He felt every lick, pull, and suck down to the marrow of his bones. She drew on him as if she were extracting the essence of him from each and every one of his cells and he was the one held helpless. Fingers digging into the unyielding wood of the headboard, he plunged into her mouth again and again. All notion of giving or taking was lost as he felt his balls tightening and the pressure growing. He didn’t even give her a gentlemanly warning. No, all he could do was grunt, groan and shudder as he emptied himself into her.

  And Darla didn’t make a sound at all. Not a cry or whimper. Not even the husky little laugh she usually gave as her muscles closed around him and she milked the tremors from his body. He watched her throat work, but she gave no moan of satisfaction or mewl of disgust as he pulled out of her and flopped onto his back. Completely spent.

  Darla lay unmoving and unspeaking. After a few minutes, the fog cleared from his brain. But he couldn’t look at her. He loved looking at her, but not now. Not after this. Chest heaving, he forced himself to examine the truth he’d tried so hard to ignore. He couldn’t go on like this. Holding back. Biting his tongue. Never asking for what he wanted for fear he’d get nothing at all. Or worse, like tonight, she’d give him exactly what he asked for, and it would scare him spitless.

  They lay in thick, heavy silence for a few minutes. She wouldn’t make the first move. He knew as sure as he knew his own name. Jacob Andrew Dalton. He wondered if Gracie had fed the information to her mother. Or if Darla even cared. Jake sighed and tried to muster the strength to get out of bed. He didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know things had gone too far for either of them to come out unscathed. Unfortunately, he was one, and the outcome was staring him dead in the face.

  He had to end this. Now. Before all three of them got hurt worse than they already would be.

  Fueled by the thought, he rolled off the bed and to his feet. He located his briefs and pulled them on for the thi
rd time that day. Dropping to the edge of the bed, exhausted by the very thought of what was about to happen, he reached over and gave Darla’s leg a gentle pat to rouse her.

  “Come on. Get dressed, and I’ll drive you home.”

  She rolled onto her side, her eyes wide open but registering no shock or surprise. “Now?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I don’t see the point in waiting, do you?”

  Wordlessly, Darla stared up at him. A full minute passed, then she looked away. “No. You’re right. Now is better.”

  They dressed in silence and left his apartment. The night was moonless and cool. The breeze off the bay ruffled her dark curls as he opened the car door for her. She hesitated only a moment before asking, “What about Gracie?”

  He inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the pain slicing through his gut. “Would you have any problem with me picking her up and taking her out to Brian’s place to use my telescope there? She has a little bit to go on her essay, and there are a few things I’d like to show her before we wrap up. I’ll make sure Brian and Brooke are home, but you’re welcome to come along if you don’t want her spending time alone with me.”

  A myriad of emotions flitted across her face, but he’d be damned if he had any better read on her than he had in the darkened ballroom. At last, she settled on a small, tight smile as she climbed into his car. “Thanks, but I’m okay with you taking her. I’ll have her ready to go Tuesday evening and be waiting when you’re done with her.”

  Chapter 10

  Darla’s Hello Kitty pajamas were warm and snuggly as ever, she had a bowl of popcorn she didn’t have to share, and command of the remote. She should be happy. But she wasn’t. Instead of feeling comfy and cozy, she had nervous knots in her stomach. No matter how many buttons she pushed, she felt completely out of control. Rather than digging into the fluffy kernels of corn she’d nuked, she was eating her heart out. Over a man.

  She tried to tell herself she was happy her kid had the ‘most amazing’ time with Jake. If she kept her eyes glued to the TV, she could pretend she barely noticed Jake hadn’t come up to the apartment when he brought Grace home. It didn’t matter that her phone hadn’t rung, beeped, buzzed, or made the stupid space-agey chirp noise she’d assigned to his contact name.