by JM Stewart
In less than a minute, she had him on the desperate edge of release.
She leaned her mouth to his ear, her fingers changing angle and speed but never stopping. “Is this okay? Am I doing this right?”
The uncertainty in her voice caught him. He needed to tell her she was doing more than okay. She fucking amazed him. Not that he could find the right words or make his tongue work enough to say them. So he reached out blindly, managed to find her thigh, and squeezed.
As if somehow she understood, she released a pent-up breath. Then she leaned in and nipped at his earlobe, laving the small wound with a stroke of her tongue. “Let go. You want to know what I think about at night? This. Getting to watch your pleasure. That turns me on, too.”
The husky rumble of her voice in his ear lit him up like a Fourth of July firework. He came with a hoarse groan, his orgasm ripping through him, blinding and hot. His hips jerked into her hand, his come splashing his shirt. When the spasms finally ended, he collapsed back into the sofa.
Bone-weary and feeling too much like a limp noodle, he sat there for a minute in stunned silence, attempting to make his lungs works again. Contrary to the take-charge woman who’d ripped his jeans open, Lauren laid her head on his shoulder, snuggling into his neck. Her fingers continued to stroke him, softer and slower now, but sending small sparks shooting along sensitive nerve endings.
He let out a tired laugh. “You really are going to wear me out.”
She laughed, too, and turned her head, kissing his throat.
When he caught himself drifting off, he opened his eyes and kissed her forehead. “I need to get up, doll. I’m fairly certain I just made a mess out of both of us. That’s your fault, by the way.”
She pulled her hand from his pants. “Do I sound like I’m complaining?”
She got up all the same, sliding off his lap to stand in front of him. He tucked himself back in his jeans but didn’t bother doing them up, because he had to change them anyway, and grabbed her clean hand. “Come on. I’ll get you a fresh shirt.”
She followed quietly behind as he led her down the hall into his bedroom. Once there, he released her hand and moved to his dresser, retrieving a clean T-shirt for each of them, a new pair of jeans for himself, and returned to her.
“You’re incredible, by the way.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and attempted to turn away, but she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him back.
“Ditto.” Her eyes gleamed as she kissed him again.
Then she took a T-shirt from his hand, shoved him out the bedroom door and closed it in his face. He couldn’t stop a goofy-ass grin from blooming, but turned and headed for the bathroom.
Ten minutes and one quick cleanup later, he emerged from the hallway into the living room. Lauren sat once again on the sofa. She had one leg tucked up against her belly, the other curled beneath her, staring with sightless eyes at the dark television screen on the opposite wall. As he stepped into the room, she turned to look at him. Something vulnerable and tender flashed in her eyes, catching him in the chest.
Yeah. There it was. The moment when the desperate desire to come together hard faded, leaving two people who’d been intimate only minutes ago feeling like strangers. With her, it just felt wrong. It created a wall between them, and every cell in his body rebelled against the idea. The problem was, he had to let that feeling remain there. It neatly severed any ties they might have formed tonight.
And they had formed them.
Being with her was so damn easy. She fit. Like his favorite pair of boots, or those jeans he’d had for going on five years now. They were worn and soft and familiar, and they fit like a glove. Being intimate with her only seemed a natural next step.
She made him want. For the first time since he’d come home, since the divorce, the need for more swelled in his chest. Because somehow, when he was with her, she filled all those holes he’d come home with.
Lauren smiled, polite but awkward, and he was moving to her before he’d decided what the hell to do now. He took a seat on the sofa, hooked an arm around her shoulders, and gathered her to him. She slid an arm over his belly, and he tucked her securely against his side and rested his cheek on top of her head.
They sat that way for a while, the air filling with all those things they weren’t talking about. Finally, he couldn’t stand it.
“I’d like to ask to you to stay, but I don’t trust myself. I’m not sure I’d be able to resist you.” He wanted her too damn much. If she lay in bed beside him, those lean curves against him all night, what on earth would stop them from making love? Except his conscience. One taste of her would never be enough.
She remained silent for a moment. Then her fingers grew restless, stroking over his belly. “I know. Because we’re not making love yet.”
He hated the thought of sending her home, but he needed the illusion of distance with her all the same. When this month ended, she’d go back to being a friend. He needed her to. By allowing himself this time with her, he was already breaking his own rule—to never get involved with her. No, it was better for the both of them if he separated himself from this now.
She’d already seen too much of what he went through at night. The nightmares and sleeplessness. He refused to taint her world with that crap any more than he already had.
Neither could he let her go yet. “We could watch a movie.”
Her head rocked against his shoulder. “Sounds good.”
He reached for the remote on a side table. “Let’s see what’s on, then.”
Two hours later, they stood by the front door. The movie hadn’t done him any damn good. It just meant he had two hours to hold her. Two hours to ponder how big of an ass he was for sending her home in the first place. Two hours to think of all the things he ought to be doing instead. Like carrying her back to his bed and curling around her. And making her breakfast in the morning.
If she noticed his anxiety, she didn’t say anything. Rather, she slipped her hands around his rib cage and up his back, pressing her soft body into his. Back in her heels now, she nearly matched him in height, so that she merely had to lean in to touch her mouth to his.
Her brows rose, the question in her eyes even before the words left her mouth. “So, how ’bout we meet on the weekends? I figure we both have to work early on weekdays, and I don’t know about you, but by the time I get home from work, I’m pretty much worthless.”
He thumbed her chin and pressed another soft kiss to her lips. “Weekends are perfect.”
“Good. See you next weekend, then.” She winked at him, then moved out the door, closing it softly behind her.
For a moment he could only stand and stare at the space where she’d been. If sending her home was the best thing for her, then why did he feel like such an ass? Like he’d just become the one thing he swore he wouldn’t—just another jerk on her list. Didn’t that make him little better than the asshole he’d chased from her party last night?
He shouldn’t be with her at all…
Chapter Nine
Lauren shoved the till closed and offered the customer across from her a friendly smile. “See you tomorrow, Gayle.”
A businesswoman in her midforties, Gayle pursed her mouth, frowning down into the white bag. “You’re ruining my diet, you know, with these scones of yours. I pass this shop every day on my way home and every day I can’t resist stopping in.”
Lauren laughed and winked. “I’d say I was sorry, but…”
Gayle laughed and winked back. “Me too.” She lifted a hand in farewell, then turned, calling out as she made her way to the exit, “Here’s hoping I’m stronger tomorrow.”
As she watched Gayle exit, the familiar rumble of an engine sounded seconds before a gleaming black motorcycle glided to a stop in front of the store. The black beast was gorgeous. The rider seated on it had her heart skipping a beat. Trent. He pulled off his helmet and hung it on the handlebars before pocketing his keys and getting off the bike. He stopped on
the front walk, caught her gaze through the glass, and grinned.
Her heart skipped several more beats as she watched him pull open the front door and stride, casual-like, to the register where she stood. They’d texted back and forth every day, but three days had passed since she’d actually seen him. In worn jeans and that soft black leather jacket, he looked more delicious than the cupcakes they’d made this morning.
He leaned his elbows on the glass countertop and peered up at her. “Hey.”
“You look like you’re in a good mood.” She hadn’t seen him this relaxed in all the time he’d been home. It was a good look on him.
If at all possible, his smile widened. “Been a good day. We finished a gorgeous bike and the customer loved it. Thought I’d stop by on my way home to see what time you get off.”
She was tempted to tease him and tell him it depended entirely on him, but bit her tongue. They weren’t alone. Elise was in the back cleaning up the morning dishes. “About six. Why?”
“Thought so. Wanted to stop by the apartment and bring your birthday present down. I’ll need to go borrow Will’s Beamer first, but I thought maybe afterward you might like to have dinner with me.” He reached across the counter and took her hand, stroking his thumb across her knuckles. “I know we agreed on weekends, but I couldn’t resist seeing you. Take a ride with me later?”
So he’d spent the day thinking the same thing she had—dreaming up reasons to come see her. The thought made her tingle all over. Neither could she resist.
“It’s ironic you’re here, actually. I planned to come see you tonight. I’ll tell you what.” She lowered her gaze to their hands and turned his palm over, twirling her index finger in aimless circles over the center. “I’ll have dinner with you if you bring me a few of those pieces in your closet, too. I cleared some shelf space for you this morning, over by the door.”
She nodded, indicating the shelf across the room. The idea had formed as she’d stood in his closet, looking at them all, but when she’d walked into the shop this morning, a certain shelf by the door had caught her attention. Trent had talent. His beautiful pieces needed to be seen.
The light left Trent’s eyes, and he pulled his hand back and straightened. “You really think anybody will pay money for those?”
She didn’t have to ask to know why he was tense. His reaction when he’d shown her his closet had told her in no uncertain terms his carvings were private, the workings of his imagination in a painful moment. But she wanted him to know, to believe, that his carvings weren’t as ugly as the memories that had inspired some of them.
She moved around the counter and laid a hand against his chest. “Trust me?”
Frown lines formed around his mouth, those blue eyes working her face. “You really want to do this.”
“Not if you really don’t want me to, but…you have them hidden away like they’re something dark and hideous when I think they should be put out on display. You took something painful and turned it into something truly beautiful. You should be proud of them.” Hoping somehow to sooth the wound she’d clearly just poured salt into, she shrugged and shot him a playful grin. “If they don’t sell, you can tell me I told you so, and I’ll keep them for decoration. Because I love them.”
Finally, he rolled his eyes, the stiffness leaving his shoulders. “Fine. Six pieces.”
She rubbed her hand over his chest, serious now. “Give me your favorites. The ones you’re the most proud of.”
His gaze narrowed, and he leaned down, touching his nose to hers. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Hayes.” He kissed her cheek and pivoted, waving a hand behind him as he strode for the front entrance. “See you in an hour.”
Exactly an hour later, Trent pulled up out front, not in Will’s silver BMW, but in Skylar’s red Mercedes. Lauren watched through the front windows as he climbed from the SUV, moved around to the rear, and popped the hatch. He pulled out a dolly cart and set it on the ground, then hefted out the carved bear. This was one of those days when she sincerely wished it was warmer. She was sure under the bulk of his leather jacket, those biceps of his were bulging, and God how she would have loved to watch.
Elise came to stand beside her, resting her hands on the glass surface, and nodded in Trent’s direction. “What’s he got?”
Lauren answered without looking. “My birthday present. He carved that. Can you believe it? I’m having him set it up by the front door. An impromptu welcome sign if you will. I think it’s adorable.”
Trent came through the front door then, pushing it open with his behind as he wheeled the dolly in.
Elise gave a hum of appreciation beside her. “Nice backside, that one.”
Lauren jerked her gaze to her friend, who’d never once in the five years she’d been working here made such a blatant remark. “Elise!”
Elise gave a lighthearted laugh and winked at her. “I’m old, sweetie. Not dead.”
Elise turned her gaze out front again. They stood for a moment, watching Trent heft that not-small bear into the corner by the front window. When he had it in place, Elise let out a low whistle, then turned and headed to the back room, leaving Lauren giggling in her wake.
Lauren rounded the counter, moving toward Trent as he adjusted the bear to face the window. “You better have brought the others with you or you’ll be having dinner on your own this evening.”
“Slave driver.” Trent chuckled. Bear in place, he straightened and closed the space between them, standing this side of too close. His scent swirled around her, fresh air and something uniquely him. His eyes narrowed, glinting with a heady mixture of amusement and heat. “I have ways of convincing of you to have dinner with me, you know.”
Never one to back down from a fight, playful or otherwise, Lauren straightened her shoulders and took a step toward him, until her belly brushed his. Not that she could resist the urge to tease him. The play between them was addicting. He was sexy as hell when that mischievous gleam lit in his eyes. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
He darted a glance behind her, then hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her flush against him. “Oh, that’s a promise, doll.”
Lauren’s breath caught, and for a moment she could only stare at him. Oh, she hadn’t expected him to do that. Trent was mightily aroused.
He leaned down, turning his mouth to her ear. “I’ve been hard for three days thinking about you.” Just as quickly, he pulled away and pivoted, leaving her to stare after him as he headed for the front entrance. “Come on. You can help me bring the carvings in.”
Ten minutes later they stood staring at the shelf where she’d set the carvings up on display. Turned out a few of the pieces he’d brought over were the ones he’d told her he’d carved for her—a set of three female garden gnomes. One of them was a dark-haired baker holding a cupcake and wearing an apron, another, an older female with a basket of flowers, and finally, there was a cute little gentleman asleep leaning against a mushroom.
He’d also brought an old-fashioned Santa, which she knew his mother collected, and two dogs, a beautiful German shepherd, and a Labrador retriever. Tomorrow she’d make him a sign, letting the public know they were carved by a local artist.
Trent’s hand slid into hers where it rested at her side, his long fingers threading through hers. “I appreciate your faith in me, you know.”
She squeezed his fingers and looked over at him. “So where are we headed?”
Not that she cared. She only had a month with him like this. She intended to enjoy the time she had. Letting him go would be hard. She’d have to let him put her back in that safe little box he seemed to keep her in. It would be worth it, though, because for a month he was hers.
He finally glanced over at her, blue eyes relaxed and searching her face. “I have to give Skylar back her car and pick up my bike first, but I thought we’d take a ride to the waterfront. We could stop somewhere along the way and get some takeout, bring it to Chism Park?”
She smiled
and nodded. “Sounds good.”
An hour later they stood staring out over the waters of Lake Washington. Dinner had been Chinese. They’d sat in the grass, eating from paper cartons, and talked about their days while staring out over the serene lake. Trent stood behind her now, his arms wrapped around her waist, his chin resting on her right shoulder.
They’d been standing there for some time, holding each other, a comfortable silence between them. Trent, however, hadn’t quite relaxed. His body was tense and his hands continually moved, skimming along her waist, fingers dipping beneath the hem of her shirt to stroke her skin. More than once he’d kissed her neck, her shoulder, brushed her earlobe with his nose.
That was as far as he’d taken it though. Clearly he wanted more as much as she did.
She stroked her hands along his arms, the leather of his jacket soft beneath her fingers. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why are we here? I assumed when you showed up at the shop that we’d…” She shook her head, letting the words flit away on the soft breeze. God, it seemed so stupid now.
He turned his head, skimming his lips along the side of her neck. “Thought maybe if we came out here, you wouldn’t be so tempting.”
The husky rumble of his voice against her skin lit a blaze in the pit of her stomach. “May I ask why?”
“Because we’re supposed to be taking it slow.” He released a heavy sigh and rested his chin on her shoulder again. “I know we both have to work early in the morning, but I couldn’t resist. I had to see you.”
She slid her hand along his arm, threading her fingers with his. “We can do everything but, correct?”
“That’s the idea, yes.”
She twisted at the waist to peer over her shoulder at him. “Then take me home.”
Hunger flared in his eyes, and he let out a groan, this one tormented and filled with need. “You know, the fact that I can’t resist you is going to get me into trouble one day soon.”
