by Linda Seed
“Here. Just let me …” Daniel opened the window over the kitchen sink, grabbed a dishcloth that wasn’t on fire, and fanned at the smoke alarm until it finally quieted down. Lacy picked up Z to comfort him, and he quieted down, too.
Now there was only the shocked silence, the thick fog of Daniel’s embarrassment, and the lingering scent of charred cotton/poly blend.
“Jesus,” Daniel said when the immediate crisis was over. “I’m sorry about that. I guess I hit the wrong dial.”
“I guess you did.” Lacy stroked Z’s head. “I’m a little worried now about letting you make the pizza. We could be putting our lives at risk.”
“I was … a little nervous,” he admitted. He leaned against the kitchen counter, his hands tucked into the safety of his armpits.
“Nervous? About me?”
He shrugged. “I just … I wanted our date to go well, but then there was the thing with Z, and then you made that noise …”
Lacy frowned, bemused. “What noise?”
“When you took off your shoes.” He gestured vaguely toward her discarded shoes with one finger. “You made this … this sighing sound.”
“I sighed,” she said, as if trying to make sense of whatever the hell he was saying.
“Yeah. But it wasn’t just a sigh, it was … Look. Let’s just forget it, okay? Maybe I should just take you home.” He rubbed at his eyes miserably.
Lacy put Z down on the kitchen floor and stood. “Is that what you want? You want me to go home?”
“No.” Daniel shook his head. “Hell, no. I don’t ever want you to go home. But I don’t want to ruin your evening any more than I have already, so—”
“Daniel.” She interrupted him.
“What?” There was that misery in his voice again, that weary defeat.
“Just come over here and kiss me.”
At first, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Then, he just hoped to God that he had. He went to her, feeling tentative and unsure. A lock of her golden hair lay on her shoulder, and he picked it up between his fingertips.
“Daniel. Kiss me,” she said again.
His body thrummed with anticipation before he even touched her, before he even tasted her. He reached out and touched the side of her face with his hand. Then he drew closer, until their lips were barely a breath apart. He hesitated just a moment, and then took her mouth with his.
She was all softness, all comfort and promise. He sank more deeply into the kiss, exploring her with his lips, his tongue, the gentle tug of his teeth.
And there was that sound again, that sigh that was also a moan. The idea that he was making that sound come out of her caused his pulse to race. His arms went around her and he pulled her closer. His hands tangled themselves in the glorious bounty of her hair.
He forgot everything else except this. The date, the dog, the fire—everything else faded into the gauzy haze of distant memory. This was the only thing that was real, the only thing that mattered.
He felt as though his body recognized her. As though it were saying, This is the one. He folded her against him and bent his head to taste the soft skin beneath her jaw.
“Daniel?” she murmured. He roused himself just enough to pull away from her, to search her eyes.
“Show me your bedroom,” she whispered. She found his hand with hers, and held it, pulling him gently toward the back of the house.
And just like that, he was gone. He knew it, and there was no sense fighting it. She owned him, his body, his spirit. Nothing to do but just give in and follow her.
Lacy wondered, as she led him toward a door that she assumed was the bedroom, what exactly she thought she was doing. This wasn’t going to be a fun dalliance that could be forgotten tomorrow. This wasn’t casual. This was her getting in over her head, into something that would make her terrifyingly vulnerable.
She was quickly moving toward a point of no return, a place where her heart would be his to protect or to destroy. If she slept with him, if it was everything she thought it was going to be, she’d be lost.
And yet, she felt helpless to do anything else. She wanted him more than she wanted to go on breathing, to go on living. And so she walked with him into his bedroom, her fear warring with her desire.
“Lacy?” he murmured when they were standing beside the bed. The room was dark, except for the light filtering in from the kitchen. “Are you sure?”
She didn’t answer him. Instead, her trembling fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. She undid them one by one, revealing his bare skin inch by inch.
He watched her raptly as she moved down, down, until at last she pulled his shirt free from where it had been tucked into his pants and unbuttoned it the rest of the way. She slid the fabric off of his broad shoulders and down, until it fell to the floor at his feet.
She ran her hands over his chest, his shoulders, the muscular planes of his arms. And now he was the one letting out a guttural sound of pleasure.
He reached for the tie at the back of her dress, but she gently moved his hands away. “It’s still my turn,” she said, with a hint of mischief in her eyes.
He kicked off his shoes, and her hands went to his belt buckle. He held still as she unbuckled the belt and slid it out of its loops, but she could see his breath quickening in the rise and fall of his chest.
She unsnapped, unzipped, and then slid his remaining clothes down and off until he stood there, naked in the faint glow from the kitchen light.
And oh, God, he was gorgeous. Every bit of his body told the story of his work and the strength it required. His arms, his chest, his legs were hard and muscled, and pure man.
For a moment, she just looked.
“I’ve wanted to see you like this for a long time,” she said, her voice a little hoarse with desire.
And it was true. Even when he was just a friend, even when she’d been with Brandon, the curiosity about him, the little flame of want, had been there, burning in her. She’d ignored it then. But she couldn’t ignore it now.
She ran her hands over his skin, and he drew in a breath. He reached around to untie her dress, and then gathered the silky fabric in his hands and drew it up, over her head, and off of her. She’d worn tiny, silk underthings for him—in anticipation of this moment—and something in his face changed when he saw her. What had been rapt attention was now raw hunger.
She began to reach back to unclasp her bra, but he took her hand to stop her.
“Wait a little,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I like this.” He traced the line of her bra with his finger.
He lowered his head to take her lace-covered breast into his mouth, his hot tongue pressing against the peak through the fabric. Lacy felt it like a jolt of fire through her body. She threw her head back, grabbed his hair in her fists, and let out a low humming sound from the depths of her throat.
Then, when the anticipation was almost too much, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.
She was just so goddamned perfect. Golden hair, sun-kissed skin, and that body. That body that she was giving to him, as though he had any hope in hell of deserving such a gift.
He lowered her onto the bed and tasted the hollow plane between her breasts.
“Lacy.” Her name came out on a sigh.
He wanted to take it slowly, to make this last forever. But he couldn’t help himself. He ran his hand down her body, pushed the tiny, tantalizing panties aside, and thrust his fingers into the warm, hot core of her.
She gasped, and her eyes opened wide.
“Tell me how you want me to touch you,” he murmured into her ear. “Is this what you want?” He caressed her engorged nub with his thumb while his fingers stroked inside her.
“Oh, God, yes. Yes. Like that,” she said, and her eyes, which had moments ago opened in surprise, now slid shut in bliss.
Watching her like this, seeing on her face the way he made her feel, was almost more than he could bear. But he didn’t stop, couldn’t sto
p. His fingers moved inside her as she writhed and arched her back on the bed.
The orgasm ripped through her like an earthquake, like a hurricane. Like some epic event that left devastation in its path. She cried out, and then fought to catch her breath.
When she opened her eyes to look at him, his face was pure, intense need.
He knelt at her feet, slid the silky panties off of her, and then eased her thighs apart and slid into her.
Her body hadn’t recovered from the things he’d already done to her, so the feeling of him inside her, his insistence, his intensity, could have been too much. But she kept up with him, giving back everything beat for beat. She wrapped her body around him, her arms, her legs, savoring every sensation.
She couldn’t get enough of him, of this.
She clung to him, reveling in the pleasure, until he grew still and shuddered against her.
When it was over, neither one of them moved for a while. He was sprawled half on top of her, his arm wrapped around her. His body was heavy on hers, but it felt delicious, as though it belonged there.
Finally, he let out a groan and scrubbed at his face with his hand.
“Jesus,” he said. “That was … are you …?” Apparently, eloquence escaped him. Lacy didn’t blame him. She doubted she could have done much better.
She turned her body toward him and kissed him so she wouldn’t have to try.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t think about …”
“I’m on the pill,” she told him. “If that’s what you were worried about.”
“It was, yeah.” He rolled onto his side and pulled her into his arms.
“You’re still wearing your bra,” he observed.
“I am. You said you liked it.”
“I do.” He looked down at the garment in question with a lecherous grin. “Still, kind of a shame …”
She raised her eyebrows. “We could try it again without, just to see which works better.”
“A kind of experiment,” he said.
“For science,” she added.
He unhooked the bra and slid it off of her shoulders.
“Who am I to argue with scientific discovery?” he said.
Chapter Twenty-One
“So the dog ruined the date, and then Daniel set the kitchen on fire, and then you had smoking hot, earth-shattering sex.” Rose recapped Lacy’s rundown of her date as she, Lacy, Kate, and Gen gathered at Rose’s house over dinner to plan the baby shower.
At least, they had intended to plan the baby shower. Instead, they seemed to have abandoned all discussion of girl-themed cupcakes and decorations in favor of sex talk.
Because who didn’t like a good sex talk?
“That’s pretty much how it happened,” Lacy agreed. “Except he didn’t really set the whole kitchen on fire. It was just the dish towel.”
“And your pants,” Gen added, smirking.
“God. I don’t mean to trash-talk Brandon,” Lacy said, a glass of chardonnay in her hand. “But I didn’t realize how mediocre the sex with him was, until …”
“Until Mr. Hottie Artist Guy rocked your world?” Kate suggested.
“Well … yes.”
Rose’s house, a rustic cabin on the outskirts of Cambria, was scattered with shower invitations, decorations still in their packaging, the components to make party favors, and ideas printed from Pinterest. The women were gathered around Rose’s kitchen table, which was laden with wine bottles and glasses, Mexican takeout packages, and plates bearing the remnants of their dinner.
Will, with the keen sense of self-preservation common in most men faced with baby shower planning, had fled the house to go play with his friends.
“Sweetie, I’m so happy for you,” Kate said, laying a hand on Lacy’s forearm.
“I’m happy for me, too,” Lacy said. “I think. It’s just …”
“Uh-oh. It’s just what?” Gen prompted her.
“It’s … I just got out of a relationship that was smothering. That made me feel like I wasn’t myself. And now here I am, jumping right into this thing with Daniel.” Lacy poked at the remains of an enchilada with her fork. “But the thing is, I don’t feel smothered. I feel … like me. Only better.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” Kate said. “Like you, only better. And happier.”
“And with more orgasms,” Rose put in.
“Orgasms are good,” Lacy agreed. “Better than good. But … I think I might be in trouble here.” She looked up from her plate at her friends. “This isn’t going to be something I can just get over if it goes wrong.”
“Who says it’s going to go wrong?” Gen asked, her voice full of sympathy.
“Because it always goes wrong!” Lacy tossed her hands up for emphasis. “When has one of my relationships ever not gone wrong?”
“That’s how it works,” Rose said, giving Lacy an indulgent look, like a parent with a child who still has much to learn. “You get into relationships, and they all go wrong until you get to the one that doesn’t.”
Kate and Gen nodded in agreement.
“Besides,” Rose went on. “You’re not the first person to get freaked out by good sex. And feelings.” She wiggled her fingers in the air to illustrate the word feelings. “I ran away from Will so fast you’d have thought he was chasing me with an ax. Good thing he caught me.” She rubbed her pregnant belly with amused affection.
“Right. Shit. You’re right,” Lacy said. “I feel like one of those stupid cartoon characters. You know, the ones where you know they’re in love because they float a foot above the ground and they’ve got little cartoon hearts and birds over their heads.”
“Okay, that really was good sex,” Kate observed.
“As someone who’s going to be very sex-deprived, very soon,” Rose said, “I say you should just enjoy it. Wear him out. Emerge only for occasional hydration.”
To Lacy, that did sound like an attractive option.
“In the meantime,” Rose said, “let’s talk cake. Should we go with the pink chevrons or the baby bootie design?”
The guys had gathered at Ted’s, since the women were all tied up with party planning and they had nothing else to do. Jackson and Will were absorbed in a game of pool; Jackson was winning, of course, since Will was crap at pool. Daniel wasn’t talking about his date with Lacy, because he didn’t want to be ungentlemanly. But he was brooding about it, all the same, as he sat on a barstool next to Ryan, drinking a beer and watching Will get the snot beat out of him.
“You didn’t show up at Neptune last night,” Jackson observed as he lined up a shot toward a corner pocket. “You had a reservation.”
“Yeah. I was supposed to be bringing Lacy, but the dog had other plans.” He told them about Zzyzx getting out through an open window, about retrieving him from the neighbor’s house, and about the way he’d thrown a holy tantrum when they’d tried to leave.
“Well, that’s a shame,” Will said, as he stood with his pool cue waiting for Jackson to finish his turn. “So, what did you end up doing?”
Daniel wasn’t much of a blusher, but he must have. Either that, or he got some kind of telltale look on his face, because the other three stared at him, and then began giving him these smug, know-it-all grins.
“What?” Daniel demanded.
“Seems like maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that the Neptune deal didn’t work out,” Ryan observed.
“That’s not … I never said …”
“You didn’t have to,” Jackson said. He took his shot, and sank the nine ball into the corner pocket.
“Well, you didn’t hear anything from me,” Daniel grumbled irritably. “I’m not gonna talk about her like that.”
“If you did, I’d have to kick your ass,” Jackson said as he moved around the table, looking for his next shot. “Since she’s practically my sister-in-law.”
“The question is,” Ryan said, “since it seems like the date might not have been a total bust after all,
why do you look so pissed off?”
“What? I’m not.” And it was true; he wasn’t. Pissed off wasn’t an accurate description of what he was feeling. He was more … troubled. Because everything was changing—he could feel it—and he wasn’t sure what he thought about that.
He scowled, picked up his beer mug, and then put it back down again on the little round table where he and Ryan sat.
“I like my life,” he said finally, in a non sequitur that had the others peering at him quizzically.
“Okay,” Will said. “Well … that’s a good thing.”
“Yeah,” Daniel said, mostly to himself. “Yeah.”
Jackson straightened up from where he’d been bent over the pool table, leaned against his cue, and said, “Let me try to translate. You had a good time with Lacy. A very good time. And now you’re thinking maybe it was more than just a good time. Maybe it was so much more that it’s going to throw your whole universe out of whack, with things like marriage and kids to go with that dog of yours.”
Will’s eyebrows rose behind his glasses. “Daniel? Is he right?”
Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know. Shit. I guess he’s right, yeah.” With the door to the conversation opened, he figured he might as well walk through it. Who the hell else was he going to talk to about all of this?
“The thing is … if we do this—and it looks like we’re doing it—it’s not going to be just fun. It’s not going to be friends with benefits. She’s not like that, and, hell, neither am I.”
“Okay. So why is that a problem?” Ryan asked.
“It’s not.” Daniel scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Jesus, I don’t know what my issue is.”
“Sure you do,” Jackson said.
“You seem to know everything about what I’m thinking,” Daniel said irritably. “Why don’t you just tell me, then?”
“All right.” Jackson leaned his cue against the wall and stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re thinking about how Lacy wants kids and a house and the whole bit, and you’re not sure what you want, but you know that you’re already in this pretty deep, and it’s going to be hard, if not impossible, for you to walk away. So you’re trying to adjust to your new reality. But you’re a guy, so instead of just dealing with all of that, you’re sitting around looking like someone pissed in your corn chips, when you should be on top of the world after enjoying the sweet, sweet attentions of the spectacular Lacy Jordan—something we’ve all fantasized about at one time or another.”
