Waiting in Essex

by Nevea Lane

  “Yeah, well, are you back tomorrow?” Paxton had enough of walking down memory lane for one day.

  “Nine a.m., and I have a key, so don't tax yourself.” Paxton turned to her and stared down at her. He didn't want her to go, but he was sure he would turn into moody company after a while. Paxton didn’t say a word, just nodded and turned on his heel, leaving the room silently.

  * * *

  The confused woman shook her head. “What a weird man,” she muttered as she watched his broad back retreat. Sighing, Delilah walked out of the kitchen aand into the living room to gather her purse. She still didn’t know what bothered Paxton the most; he always seemed moody about something or other. Her father, who probably knew Pax better than anyone else, would tell her she would understand Pax when she was older. She thought thirty-three was old enough, and she still didn’t understand.

  Delilah closed the front door and hopped down the steps. She had some time to kill since her session was cut short. She looked to the sky, judging how much time she had before the rain came. It was unusually difficult when rain hit Essex because of all the low-lying roads—there was always a good chance of a flash flood. Delilah tucked her purse under her arm and began to walk toward the marina. Perhaps she would grab a book from the gift shop, but she wasn’t in the mood to go home quite yet.

  Walking across the spacious lawn, Delilah couldn’t help the memories that came whenever she was in town. The school dance at the town hall was one of her favorite memories…well, before the fire started. She remembered slow dancing with Rodney Turner when the fire marshal burst into the ballroom yelling at everyone to get out, there was a fire in the men’s bathroom.

  Delilah’s lips turned into a nasty scowl. That night was the last night she saw Paxton actually. She remembered seeing him at the dance, but she didn’t remember seeing him during all the commotion of evacuating. Her father never talked about Paxton as much after that night. She’d just assumed he finally got out of the town he detested. Seeing him now, Delilah felt there must be more to it than small-town blues. Delilah took her time meandering down the main street of the town. She smiled at the seagulls swooping and diving, seeming as though they were one with the wind. Peering inside the window of the antique lamp shop, Delilah sighed. A small part of her had still hoped that Paxton would view her as a woman, but apparently he still just thinks of her as a friend. Time to put away childish things I guess, Delilah thought as she stepped off the main road, looking forward to getting down to the bay. She just needed to clear her head.

  Just as Delilah was making her way through the open field to take her usual shortcut to the marina, the skies opened and Heaven cried. It started slow enough, although Delilah was pissed that she would have to blow-dry her hair later. While she picked up the pace, so did the rain. Soon, the heavy drops began to sting her arms as it pelted down. The warm weather turned decidedly chill, and the raindrops began to feel like ice pellets.

  “Oh hell!” Del began to run across the field, hoping to make it to the shading overhangs of the marina boat rental shops.

  As she was running, Del swore she heard a car engine, but in all of her years, she’d never thought anyone would dare to drive across the muddy field. The drive on Main Street was too pretty to fool around with back roads with sinkholes.

  “Del!”

  Delilah whirled around to see who had the big brass balls to be out driving in impending hail, and who would be calling her name. It could only be her father. When she turned, she saw the ominous-looking Bentley slowing behind her. She smiled, knowing that her father would always be there to come and pluck her out of any danger.

  Soaked, and cold, Delilah hurried to the car. Yanking open the car door, she didn't hesitate to pull it closed. Only as she was clicking the seat belt in place did she realize those weren’t her father’s weathered knuckles clutching the stick shift. The thick fingers, a little calloused, were attached to a huge hand, which belonged to a bicep as rigid as a sailor’s knot, and just as corded. Delilah felt her stomach go completely Cirque du Soleil as her eyes snapped to his face. The etched lines of Paxton's tanned cheekbones showed his relief. Delilah was everything but relieved.

  “Paxton! What are you doing here?”

  Paxton's face broke into a grin, but his gray eyes seemed to smolder to a smoky hue.

  “If all I had to do was drive out in a hailstorm to rescue you to get you to call me by my first name, I would have done it twenty years ago.”

  Delilah chuckled. She knew it was overkill always addressing him that way, but it was all she could do to keep her crush at bay. When she was finally honest with herself, she had to admit she’d meddled in Paxton’s life just to see him again. She had hoped he would land on his feet, and as she looked at his sleek, toned body, she knew that land on his feet he did. Paxton had definitely grown up.

  “Come on now. It wasn’t that bad getting called Mr. Wainwright. It was better than Junior.” Delilah laughed a little. Back then, the Paxton she knew cringed at anyone calling him “son” or “junior.” Delilah pursed her lips and gave a long, appreciative look at the man who was shifting the Bentley with ease through sheets of rain. He seemed confident, more relaxed than he was as a kid. She didn’t want to, but she tore her eyes from the new Paxton. Her insides warmed at knowing he was all right. She still couldn’t help but glance at his left hand gripping the top of the steering wheel to see if the new and improved Paxton was married. His finger was bare, and Delilah had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the smile off her face.

  “So Pax, why are you out here looking for me?” Delilah could admit her curiosity had gotten her in severe trouble before, but Pax was the one person she always wanted to know better.

  “I wanted to…” He abruptly stopped talking and pointed to the roof. Delilah trained her ears to tune out the sloshing waters of the North Cove. Then she heard it: Ping! She rolled her eyes. She knew what that was. Ping! Ping! “Sorry, angel, we’re going to have to wait this out. This is the first time my father actually allowed me to drive this car, and I’m not returning it with hail marks over it.” Delilah held on as Paxton shifted gears and sped toward the covered bridge. In a harrowing minute, they were safe inside the rarely used covered bridge, enclosed in the dark with only the strikes of lightning illuminating their faces. Delilah unfastened her seat belt and pulled the hair tie out of her hair. She shook loose the curling locks and ran her fingers through it. The one time she was alone with the man, she wasn’t going to look like a drowned rat, even though she was soaked to the core.

  “I’ll turn the heaters up. It shouldn’t be too long before the hail passes.” Delilah watched as he fumbled with knobs until a jet of warm air hit her face.

  “Are you avoiding the question, Mr. Wainwright?” His head snapped around to meet her smiling eyes. His eyebrows hitched together as he gave her a piercing stare. Why did he have to look at her like that? It was one of those looks that made her forget she was raised a lady and shouldn’t be having thoughts of stripping Paxton naked in the rain.

  “Are we back to being formal, Ms. Gibbs?”

  “Do you always answer a question with a question?”

  “Do you always look so delicious in a wet shirt?”

  Delilah chuckled and sat back, folding her arms under her chest. Paxton was just trying to get under her skin as usual. He used to stick out his tongue at her, pull her ponytail, and yet do everything to avoid her in public when their parents weren’t around. There is no way in hell Paxton is flirting with me.

  “All right, Pax, tell me why you’re out driving in this madness.”

  Paxton turned in his seat, his knee pressing against the stick shift, and leaned forward, as if he was stalking his prey.

  “I wanted to see if you wanted to have an early dinner with me. I’ve missed you, Del.”

  ***

  It was the hardest thing Paxton ever had to admit to anyone. For years he’d tried to put the thought of Delilah Gibbs out of his mind, erasing
the name from his memory as if not remembering her name would make him forget about her. More importantly, he’d tried to put the image of Delilah slow dancing with that pig Rodney at the formal behind him. Yet, as difficult as telling Delilah that he missed her was, what he had to say next was going to either give him hope or send her running.

  “That’s not all, Del. There is something I need to tell you.”

  He watched her reaction closely, observing that her posture hadn’t changed, but her lovely thigh twitched in tension. His trained eye knew she was bracing. Not good.

  “Do you know why the town hall was set on fire all those years ago?”

  “I heard rumors. Some kids were smoking in the bathroom or something,” Delilah said slowly, the confusion evident on her face.

  “No, not some. One. Me. I went to the bathroom to light one up and dropped a lit match in the garbage can. Apparently toilet tissue is easy to set on fire. It got out of control before I could stop it.”

  Delilah gasped, and the most amazing thing happened. She reached out and grabbed Paxton’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Paxton’s eyes dropped to where their hands joined. Never once did he imagine that Delilah would be giving him sympathy for being a punk-ass brat.

  “No, Del, I don’t really need sympathy—I need understanding. My limp is from that night. I tore some muscles trying to stomp on the fire, and trying to get away from your dad when he tried to pull me away from you.”

  Delilah didn’t let go of his hand, but he could tell she was processing everything.

  “Wait a minute, Paxton. I barely saw you that night. I saw you once and after the fire broke out, you were a ghost.”

  Paxton pursed his lips, running his free hand through his hair. He sighed and looked straight into Delilah’s warm, inviting gaze.

  “That night, Freddie was driving. He said he wanted to check on you. When we walked in, you were slow dancing with Rodney. I went pretty berserk. Your dad yanked me down so hard I hit my knee pretty good. Luckily your dad stayed to keep an eye on me, and he was there when the fire broke out. Your dad saved my ass and my dad’s reputation. But my dad had enough, so he threw me out.” Finally, Paxton thought, she knows. It was one thing to carry his own baggage, but after he saw Delilah again all the old feelings came back. He stayed away from her because Paxton loved and respected Freddie too much to even entertain the thought of dating Delilah. .

  “Why are you telling me this now, Paxton?” Delilah’s voice was a whisper, but he could hear the emotion in her husky tone.

  “Del, look at me.” Paxton didn’t want the silent Delilah. He wanted the Delilah who made him want to be a better man. When her eyes looked to his, Paxton let out a sigh. Looking at her was truly like coming home. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want to have any secrets between us. I’m telling you this because I want you.”

  Paxton had never felt so nervous. The silence enclosed the car as he waited for his Del to say something. Needless to say, he was confounded when a huge smile broke out on Delilah's face.

  * * *

  What could Delilah do but smile? She always knew Pax was a practical joker, but this was one step too far. She never would have guessed that he would play with someone's emotions like he just did.

  “Ha-ha, very funny, Paxton. You know, that's not even funny. Your pranks used to be so much better than this.” Delilah crossed her arms in front of her and waited for Paxton to start laughing too. It had to be a joke; there was no way that Paxton could want her after all of this time. She just stared as he quirked that eyebrow at her. He used to give her the same look when he caught her staring at him from afar.

  “You're not laughing, Pax,” Delilah said, reaching out and tapping his nose with her index finger. Before she could resume her defensive stance, Paxton grabbed her finger in his long hands. His powerful gray eyes never broke contact as he inserted her finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the knuckle and tip. Delilah gasped as Pax took her finger hostage in the warm cavern of his mouth, his eyes boring into hers, daring her to take her finger away.

  When Paxton finally released her finger, Delilah couldn't and wouldn't dare to move. She had never felt anything so electrifying and so scary at the same time. The conflict of emotions that she felt was nothing compared to the overwhelming desire to have Paxton here and now.

  “I'm not laughing because I'm not joking. Delilah, I know this is crazy, its been so long, but you’ve never been out of my head. You know, I saw you once in Hartford. You were wearing scrubs, and you still had that smile that made time stop. I wanted to approach you then, but I was scared. I was scared in high school too. Del, I'm not scared anymore.”

  Delilah, shell shocked and speechless, stared. This wasn't happening; this wasn't real. She looked at Paxton's lips, her nipples hardening as his tongue ran across the bottom lip. Paxton may not be scared, but Delilah was scared out of her wits. She had wanted this moment for so long, but now that it was here, she went chicken. Groaning, she bit her bottom lip. Before she could see him move, Paxton had lunged forward, capturing her lips with his mouth. He let out a moan as soon as she felt the impact of his soft pink lips crushing hers. It seemed as though he was tasting her lips, little nips of his teeth, his strong hands holding her chin so she couldn’t turn away. Not that she wanted to. When Pax’s hand moved to her collarbone, she let out a violent shiver.

  Paxton’s eyes snapped open. His stormy eyes raged emotion as his jawline ticked.

  “You need to get out of those wet clothes. There’s a blanket in the back.” Paxton moved away from her just enough to let her crawl over the seat. Delilah didn’t hesitate to put some space between them. There was just too much in the air. She needed to think. She started to pull the wet shirt over her head. Her bra was soaked too. Her eyes met Paxton’s in the rearview mirror as her arm reached behind her to unclasp the wet material.

  “Fuck it,” she heard him mutter, but before she could even ask what he meant, he’d opened the car door and slid in the backseat next to her. Can’t run now, girl, Delilah thought as she looked at Paxton’s heaving chest. Her gaze fell lower, over his abs, over his jean-clad legs, to the unmistakable hard line going down his thigh. Delilah gulped. He’s not joking—he wants me. Delilah could have passed out, but she had waited too long. Without hesitation, she grabbed the front of Paxton’s T-shirt and pulled him to her for a kiss.

  Paxton covered her body with ease. When she entwined her fingers in his hair, her lover let out a low growl that excited her more. Her tongue sneaked out and swirled in his mouth. He tasted of peppermint. His torso lined up with hers, and he lay on top of her, kissing her gently, rocking her.

  “I have wanted you for so long,” Paxton whispered on her lips. “I dreamed about touching you; your skin looked so soft. I want to drink you. To see if you taste as good as the chocolate you appear to be. Open for me, Del.” Her body relaxed to accept his weight. Paxton worked his way down Delilah’s body, planting kisses on every exposed surface. He tugged the wet pants down in one movement and continued to work his way down Delilah’s body, lazily planting kisses wherever he chose. He removed her shoes and her socks, his lips never leaving her skin.

  Delilah’s breath came in gasps, her back arching at every contact of Paxton’s lips on her hot skin. Just when she couldn’t take anymore, Paxton began the same assault coming up her body. When she was fully undressed, Paxton stopped, looking into her eyes briefly as if to acknowledge that she was indeed real and not some torrid fantasy. Delilah’s lips begged for more. He swirled his tongue around her lips. At that moment, the kissing would have been enough for her. Paxton was not finished, however. He worked down her body again, and without preamble, he plunged his tongue into her slick womanly secret. Her legs seemed to open wider, and he plunged his curled tongue deeper into her core. She felt herself on the edge of what she knew would be a euphoric roller coaster, peering over the edge of pure release.

  His calloused thumb ran over the inside of her thigh. Her
body began to quiver, and she grabbed hold of Paxton’s muscled shoulders, digging her nails in as hard as her body would allow. Her shaking only caused Paxton to lick harder, jabbing his tongue deeper into her welcoming canal. Delilah, delirious and wanting more, arched her back one last time before she let go and let the rapturous feeling take over her body. While she wasn't a virgin, Delilah was sure she had never felt release like this.

  Panting, Delilah watched from under heavy eyelids as Paxton pulled his shirt from his toned body. He had a few scars and maybe a bullet wound over his right pectoral, all of which she would grill him on later. When she watched him pull out his wallet and produce a gold foil packet, she quirked an eyebrow at him; Maybe he was still every bit of the player she knew from high school.

  “Don't even think it, Del. I just bought them, just now, before I came looking for you.” Paxton's eyes revealed truth and honesty, but then they always had to her.

  “My my, arrogant, aren't we?” she said as she watched him try to maneuver his huge frame in the backseat of their secret hideaway.

  “No, not arrogant. I just wasn't going to take no for an answer. It might not have been today, but I was going to have you.”

  Paxton practically glided over her body, kissing her one time before sliding into Delilah’s inviting warmth. Delilah moaned in his mouth, raising her hips to meet Paxton’s unhurried thrusts. She stopped thinking, stopped wondering and over-analyzing. She just wanted to feel. Feeling Paxton slide in and out of her was like being wrapped in a warm blanket with her favorite book. She felt at peace, his rhythmic breathing sounding like a love song to her soul. Her breathing quickened as Paxton began to methodically pick up the pace. His hands held on to her hips, keeping her body hostage close to him as he tortured her into another orgasm with his slow and parrying thrusts.