“Oh! It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Let me put it on you.” He took the necklace from her. She held her hair off her neck as he secured the clasp. When the fine chain fell into place, she reached up and fingered the little gold brush.
“Wear this and always remember who you are,” Daniel said. “You’re talented, Elle. Never forget that. And please never let those talents go to waste.”
She leaned in and kissed him.
Every inch of her body was pressed against his. He lost himself in the heated tenderness of that kiss.
She tasted like chocolate and sunshine and the very meaning of love. He’d waited so long for her.
There was no hesitation in her kiss. This was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted—at least right now. The way her hands explored his body—his shoulders, his back, his waist—running her fingertips under the edge of the waistband of his jeans until she found where his shirttail ended and his bare skin began.
The feel of her hands on his lower back made him instantly hard. Her touch promised that she’d love him with a hunger that would knock him out and render him even more defenseless than he was now. It made him desperate to show her how much he ached for her, how he’d longed for this moment since the day he’d laid eyes on her in the library. Rather than using words—because words could ruin everything right now—he conveyed his feelings with a deep kiss, claiming her lips in a way that was intended to sear her soul.
His need for her grew hot as fire as he held her and tasted her. He loved the feel of her curves, supple to his touch. He dropped his hands to her hips and pulled her onto his lap, on top of the evidence of his desire.
“I want you,” she murmured breathlessly. “I want you now.”
He raised his hands to her breasts, cupping them, memorizing her curves before teasing her hard nipples through her cotton blouse. She gasped. Her head dropped back and she seemed to lose herself in his touch.
Then it was his turn. She slid her hand between them and claimed the proof of his need for her, teasing him over and over, rubbing and stroking his desire through the layers of his jeans and briefs.
The sensation was almost too much to bear. It would’ve been even better if they could’ve gotten rid of the barriers between them.
He pulled her closer, leaning in to kiss the side of her neck, searing a path from the tender spot behind her ear, back to her full lips.
They were going to make love tonight. A shudder of pleasure racked his body. Suddenly he needed her naked so that he could bury himself inside her.
As if reading his mind, she said, “Let’s go into the bedroom.”
She took his hand and led him down the hall. When they were inside the doorway, he kissed her deeply—tongues thrusting, hands exploring, teeth nipping—as he walked her backward to the bed in a sensual dance. He wasn’t cognizant of space and time. Only aware of tugging her shirt over her head, then slipping her bra straps off her shoulders, pulling the lacy fabric away so that her breasts were naked in his hands. When he took a nipple into his mouth, she moaned and need coursed through him hot and heady.
She unbuckled his belt and then the button on his jeans. Her fingers worked his zipper and she pushed his pants and underwear to the floor in one swift move. He stepped out of both and shrugged off his shirt.
Wanting to permanently imprint her on his senses, he deliberately slowed down, taking a moment to commit to memory the way her beautiful body felt under his hands.
He went back to finish ridding her of her bra, unhooking the front clasp and letting it fall away. He lowered his head and, in turn, took each breast into his mouth, sucking them until she cried out in pleasure. Then, when he was sure she was ready, he tugged down her pants and panties.
How long had he waited for this moment? It was definitely worth the wait. She was worth the wait.
She was so hot, they were going to be so good together he was surprised they didn’t spontaneously combust. It was the feel of her in his hands—the touch of her soft, smooth skin under his work-roughened fingers—that was his touchstone.
One minute they were standing together naked, all the barriers between them gone, and the next they were a tangle of arms and legs. Then he lay her down on the bed and covered her body with his. She arched under him, demanding more. As if they were suspended in time, the world seemed to fade away. Exploring her body with his mouth and hands, he kissed and teased and tormented her, taking her to the brink of places she hadn’t visited in a long time.
“Wait...” he said. “I need to get something.”
He reached into the nightstand drawer and took out a foil packet.
She helped him put it in place.
* * *
“Now,” she demanded, because if he made her wait another second, she might drown in her desire, greedy for the feel of him, wanting every masculine inch of him to cover her, to weigh her down, to be inside of her and make her body thrum with the pleasure of him inside her.
He lowered himself between her legs and found his way to her opening. He thrust his hips forward and with one bold stroke entered her.
She gasped from the sheer pleasure of finally feeling him inside her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’ve never been better,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.
His breathing rasped against her temple. He pulled out and then thrust a little deeper.
Her body clung to him, sliding, grabbing, pulsing and releasing over and over until waves of pleasure with weight and force crashed inside her.
They moved together as one. She was lost in the sheer ecstasy of their closeness. Until she couldn’t hang on anymore. She let go and he helped her fall over the edge of pleasure.
His breath was hot and labored against her cheek. He began to move faster and faster, with a steady rhythm, until he gave a final thrust. A long, anguished groan sounded in his throat. He collapsed on top of her, kissing her tenderly, possessively. She reveled in their spent pleasure, in the feel of how his broad back narrowed at the waist, at the sheer masculine width and breadth of him. Until he pulled back a little, his lips still brushing hers.
“I love you, Elle,” he whispered. “Let’s get married.”
What? She froze, wondering if she’d heard him right. Surely she hadn’t heard him right? But when she pulled back and saw his earnest, unwavering gaze, she knew she’d heard him exactly right.
But she couldn’t...
No.
Why did he say that? Why was he ruining everything?
Stop. This was too fast.
But you’ve been in love with this man since you were seventeen years old.
Loving someone from afar, someone you thought you could never have, was something altogether different from marrying him.
She’d been down that road once and it hadn’t turned out well.
She’d sworn she wouldn’t go there again.
I promise I won’t hurt you, Elle.
His words echoed in her heart, swam in her head.
I know you won’t. You’re a better person than—
He’s not Roger.
She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, not on purpose. Then why was she so scared?
For a moment she was paralyzed. She wanted to pull away, but she couldn’t move. She wanted to answer him, tell him to slow down, to not ruin things, but she couldn’t even feel her face.
He must’ve felt her body stiffen, because every muscle in her body had tensed after he’d uttered those three words: Let’s get married.
He raked a hand through his hair.
“Talk about words spoken in the heat of the moment that you’ll regret in the morning.” She tried to keep her voice light. She wanted to give him a chance to recover, because she was sure he hadn’t meant it. The only way to save this was for him to pretend li
ke he hadn’t meant it.
Some men cried out a woman’s name in the heat of passion, Daniel proposed.
Eh, better not say that.
She was searching for a way to lighten the moment, but that probably sounded funnier in her head than it would hanging in the air between them.
But she needed to do something because she already knew this time she was going to be the one who ran.
Chapter Eleven
That man knew how to tie her belly up in knots. He wasn’t even here and he was doing a number on her.
She should’ve known better. She should’ve put on the brakes before everything had skidded too close to the guardrail and spiraled out of control.
She stayed the night because by that time, it was late—about 3:00 a.m.—and she was too paralyzed to make the drive from Skidaway Road to downtown. There was always the chance that he would wake up and slap himself up the side of the head and say, You’re right. I got caught up in the heat of the moment. Let’s scratch that from the records.
Yeah, as if it was in Daniel’s character to slap himself up the side of the head.
Hardly.
She hadn’t wanted to run, but he had asked her to marry him.
Marry him!
Of course, after he’d said it and she had made the quip about words spoken in the heat of the moment that he would regret in the morning, he had gone silent. It would’ve been so much better if he’d said something—
I’m only kidding.
I’m serious, but take your time.
Anything!
Instead, he had reverted into the sullen, silent Daniel that she’d feared all those years ago. Only this time, she didn’t fear that he would hurt her. On the contrary, it was her glib retort that had injured him gravely.
She wasn’t sure if she hated herself more for that or because his words had rendered her so numb.
Why? Why had he ruined the otherwise good thing that they had going on?
Her heart twisted. The perverse thing was she didn’t want to lose him. But she wasn’t ready to commit. She didn’t even know what tomorrow held, much less if she ever wanted to spend the rest of her life with somebody.
The next morning, he brought her a cup of coffee in bed.
“Do you need some time to think about things?” he asked.
“Things?” The word was so vague she wasn’t sure if things meant the two of them or the proposal. Was it a proposal?
“I meant what I said. I want to marry you, Elle.”
Yes, it was a proposal.
Oh, no.
“Daniel.” She was still naked in his bed. She was covered by the sheets and had her knees pulled up to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible, willing herself to disappear.
She didn’t want to marry anyone. But he wasn’t just anyone. She didn’t know.
“Daniel, I have to be honest with you. The thought of getting married, of putting on another big white dress and walking down the aisle with all eyes on me makes me want to hyperventilate.”
She could feel the gold necklace between her breasts. His hand was on her arm. And of all the ridiculous things, she liked it there. She craved his touch. It was soothing. It was a touchstone, but somehow, she still managed to short-circuit when her focus strayed from that isolated feeling. Because there it was—marriage. It made her mouth dry and her palms sweaty. It made her head swim and her heart hammer in her chest.
“It doesn’t have to be a big to-do. It can be us and your family.”
She tried to take in a deep breath, but there didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the room to fill her lungs.
“We can wait until Aidan is out of the hospital,” he said, but the blood was rushing so loudly in her ears that she barely heard him add, “Chloe could be the flower girl.”
When she didn’t answer, he said, “We don’t have to do it right now. We can wait.”
It was the implied BUT at the end of the sentence that sent her over the edge.
BUT I need for you to commit now. BUT I need for you to assure me you won’t run. BUT I need for you to promise me you’ll move back to Savannah... And that meant she was putting herself at the mercy of someone else, putting her heart in his hands and trusting he wouldn’t break it. Daniel had all but admitted she was the one he hadn’t been able to forget because she was the one who’d remained out of his reach; she’d been unavailable.
What would happen once she’d agreed to be his? Once the chase was over and he’d caught her?
“I can’t. I need to go.” It was almost an out-of-body experience, as if she was floating above them looking down and seeing herself shove the coffee mug into his hand as she pushed away the top sheet and climbed out of bed.
His crew was at the inn working, but when it got to be 10:00 a.m. and he hadn’t appeared, she texted him.
What time is the meeting about Aidan? I would like to go with you.
She held her breath waiting for his reply. Because the chance of him not replying made her heart ache so bad it felt like it would break into a million tiny pieces. She was such a freak. She didn’t want to lose him, but she didn’t want to marry him. At least not right now.
Enough time had passed that she thought he might not reply, or at least not immediately—and it made her unspeakably sad—but then his answer appeared on the screen.
1 p.m.
* * *
If Daniel could’ve kicked himself, he would’ve. What happened to playing it cool, not pressuring her, letting things unfold naturally?
All he knew was that one minute he was flying at the highest of highs and the next minute he was asking her to marry him.
And then he was crashing and burning.
There was no going back now. He thought it was all lost until she texted, wanting to go with him when he went to talk to the doctors about Aidan. Even then, he’d almost said no, or nothing at all, which essentially would have conveyed no, but the thought of going to that meeting and getting news—good or bad—without her was more than he could bear.
What was important now was Aidan. That was where his focus would be, but it would be good to have her with him.
As he was getting into his car to go to the meeting, the doctor called and asked him to meet him at the ICU nurses’ station rather than his office as they’d originally planned.
He texted the change of venue to Elle.
True to her word, she was at the nurses’ station at 1:00 p.m.
“Are you okay?” she asked when she saw him.
He gave a quick nod.
“Good.” That was all that they said that could remotely pertain to what had happened the night before. Because right now the focus was on Aidan.
Standing there waiting for the doctor, who was not on time, to appear and deliver whatever news he had to give, Daniel suddenly realized the doctor might not necessarily be imparting good news. Each day, Aidan had been progressing well. The swelling had been receding and the tests seemed to be supporting the evaluation that he was moving in the right direction.
But as Daniel stood there looking at this woman he loved, this woman whose feelings didn’t run quite as deeply for him as his did for her, he worried that maybe the bottom was about to really drop out of his life. Again.
Hospitals had never been the place of good news—not when his parents had been in the crash, not after his grandmother had the stroke, not after Lana’s aneurysm...
He was about to tell Elle that she didn’t have to stay, when the doctor finally appeared, “Mr. Quindlin, I’m sorry I’m late. I was tied up with another patient. Please follow me, there’s something I want you to see.”
“Is everything okay? Is Aidan okay?”
The doctor didn’t respond. He simply motioned for Daniel to follow.
“I’ll wait right here,” Elle said.
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He nodded and walked behind the doctor. Even though it was the wrong time to think it—to think about anything besides his brother’s well-being and the tough decisions he might possibly have to make in the coming days—it dawned on him that Elle hadn’t necessarily showed up because she’d had a change of heart. Or because she cared for him any more deeply than a decent person cared for another who was experiencing hard times. Just as she’d gone from pissed-off and dismissive to kind and empathetic on the day of Aidan’s accident, she very well could’ve been putting differences aside on what might be a day of devastating decisions, proving she was a good girl through and through.
The doctor stopped in front of Aidan’s door. “Wait right here for a moment.”
It was the longest damn moment of his entire life, but finally the doctor opened the door and invited Daniel inside. The first thing he saw was that Aidan was awake and out of the coma.
* * *
Elle hadn’t been allowed to see Aidan because they were keeping his visits short and limited to immediate family until he moved to the progressive care unit. But she was so glad she could be there for Daniel when he came out and shared the good news.
Since Daniel couldn’t go back to see Aidan until the next day, Elle suggested that they celebrate with a cup of coffee at the Sentient Bean, since the coffee shop was so close to the inn.
Maybe it was because she felt as if they’d left a lot of things unsaid. Maybe it was because she’d been at the hospital to learn news about an accident victim who’d been in a coma and that was a sharp reminder of the brevity of life and how things can change on a dime. But as they sat in funky upholstered chairs near the storefront window that looked out over Forsyth Park, Elle found herself rethinking her earlier panic.
“I was talking to my mom the other day about whether or not I would return to Atlanta or move back to Savannah and I told her that I was going to let fate decide. If I’m supposed to be here, then I won’t get the job. If I’m supposed to go, a job will come through.”
It wasn’t exactly a promise, but it wasn’t a hard no.
A Down-Home Savannah Christmas (The Savannah Sisters Book 1) Page 16
