Where She Belongs (Destiny Falls)

by Cindy Procter-King

  Her soft laugh burrowed through him. “Adam, we have company. Didn’t you hear a car drive in?”

  He groaned.

  “I think it’s stopped now, but—”

  “Shh.” He craned an ear. The giggling and guffaws of teenagers filtered to them from near the falls. “Damn it, I forgot, no school on Easter Monday. What will we do now?”

  A sultry smile tipped her lips. “I know a place.”

  “My place?”

  She nodded.

  Heat and pleasure rolled through him. “My kind of woman.”

  He straightened her sweatshirt and whistled for Sheba to return from exploring. Avoiding the teens, they packed the dog into her airy kennel in the pickup bed, then climbed into the cab. Jess teased him mercilessly while he drove, rubbing his thigh near his crotch.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Ever done it in a pickup on the side of the road before?”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “There’s always a first time.”

  “Isn’t this your driveway?”

  “Not a moment too soon, sweetheart.”

  He parked in the driveway and jumped out of the truck after her, catching her in a breathless hug when she tried to wrestle the house keys from him. Sheba barked in her kennel. Adam freed her, and the dog bounded out of the truck bed, pushing her cold nose into his hand.

  “Sorry, Sheeb, this is a private party.” Relinquishing the house keys to Jess, he escorted Sheba to the fenced portion of the yard.

  He met Jess in the foyer and pulled her into a wild embrace, kissing, touching, caressing while their boots, socks, belts, and his jeans went flying. Shoving his hands under her sweatshirt, he met the resistance of her dress and bra.

  “Damn buttons.”

  “Forget the buttons.” Her voice sounded airy.

  “You mean get creative?” He hoisted up her dress and slid his fingers into her panties. “Jess, you feel so slick, so good.” He peeled off the panties and kissed her deeply. “Upstairs?”

  She shook her head. “Too far away. Do you have anything?”

  He muttered something about his wallet. The next moments passed in an erotic haze as he readied himself and lay down with her on the carpet. He bunched her dress around her waist and buried himself inside her.

  Her gaze softened with desire. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and a moan tore at his throat. Jess, his classy city woman, had become a wildcat in his arms, as bold and uninhibited as the last time they’d made love. Already he felt her going up in flames.

  And he loved it. He loved everything about her.

  Heart beating like machine-gun fire, he took her hard and fast, plummeting them over the edge together. Laughing out loud with the thrill of their joining, he hugged her close, cherishing her, never wanting to let her go.

  His happiness must have been contagious, for she began laughing, too. “I can’t believe we did that—again! Although with more clothes on this time.” Her body shook beneath his, her dark curls tangling on the carpet.

  “We seem to have a thing for floors.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ve worked up quite a sheen, sweetheart. And your hair... your mother will think I took you running.”

  “Let’s hope.” She pushed a hand through her curls. “I’m a mess.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She beamed. “I need a shower. And an iron. Do you have one?”

  “Yeah, but I like the idea of a shower first.” He eased himself out of her and discarded the protection in a wastebasket by his boot rack. He’d empty the trash later. “Last one undressed washes my back.”

  She scrambled to her feet. “Your back?”

  “Well, considering I’m only wearing my shirt and you’re practically fully clothed...” He yanked open his shirt, popping the buttons. “I win.” He chucked down the shirt.

  Her mouth gaped. “Cheater!”

  “Say that again and I’ll toss you in the shower as you are.” He hiked her over his shoulder and marched to the stairs.

  Chapter Ten

  “YOU WOULDN’T DARE!” Jess pounded her fists on Adam’s naked butt, laughter bouncing out of her chest. Her hair dangled perilously close to the steps. “Adam Wright, I mean it!”

  “Did I cheat?” He bounded up the stairs two at a time.

  “Yes! Watch out for my hair!”

  He lugged her into the bathroom, providing an upside-down view of the sink and toilet. “Did I cheat?”

  “Yes! Yes!”

  Only one hand gripped her thighs now. The shower knob in the bath squeaked, and water pelted the tub. Adam planted a leg inside. Hot drops streamed over her feet. She squealed.

  “Did I cheat?”

  “No! No!”

  “Too late.” He swung her beneath the shower spray. She screamed and spat out water. “Now you need a dryer as well as an iron,” he said. He yanked shut the shower curtain and stepped toward her with a feral gleam in his eyes.

  “You beast!” She glanced down at her dripping clothes.

  “Tut-tut. Watch your mouth. I’ll help you with those wet things.” He yarded off her sweatshirt over her sodden head, then wrung out the sweatshirt at the far end of the tub and threw it onto the tile floor. Slowly, meticulously, he repeated the process with her dress and bra. Hot water rushed over her.

  Nude and drenched, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Now what?”

  “Now we’re even.” His gaze drifted over her stiff nipples. “Maybe not.” He cupped a breast in each hand and gently pinched her nipples. Sensual zings whipped to her core. “You have much nicer equipment than I do,” he murmured.

  The dizzying sensations rocketed through her, stealing her breath, heating her skin. “That depends on your point of view.” She ran her hands over his chest and taut abdomen, then up his muscular forearms. “I’m rather partial to your equipment.”

  “My equipment is rather partial to you.” He hugged her, his big erection grazing her belly. “Let’s take it slow this time, sweetheart. Let’s make love all afternoon.” He kissed her lazily. “When does your mother expect you home?”

  “Not until... closer to... supper,” Jess whispered between his wet kisses.

  “Good, plenty of time.” He slipped the soap off the bathtub shelf and lathered it to suds in his hands. “Because I’m going to need every last second to tide me over the next three days.”

  “Three days?” she echoed as he soaped and fondled her breasts.

  “Uh-huh. The Valemount contract. I need to check it out.”

  She didn’t want him to go. “Can’t you do that over the phone?”

  His blue eyes glittered. “I prefer a hands-on approach.” His hands glided down her thighs, seeking, finding. She moaned. He lathered her thoroughly, then passed her the fragrant soap. “My back, remember?”

  They switched positions so he stood beneath the hot spray. She washed his back, then moved to his front, paying attention to every hard, firm inch of his outdoorsman’s body. Coaxing him out of the shower, she toweled him dry without speaking, relaying her need for him through kisses, gazes, and caresses.

  He returned the favor, hands sliding over her with the thick towel while she shivered with pleasure. Clasping her hand, he led her to his bedroom and cuddled her beneath the billowy quilt. They lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, touching and talking, kissing and embracing, until her heart overflowed with a deep sense of security and belonging she didn’t dare examine for fear of breaking the spell.

  Gradually, their movements grew urgent. His hands lingered on her breasts. He tugged one nipple into his mouth and slowly sucked.

  She moaned, gripping his shoulders. He swept one hand to her other breast, rolling the rigid tip between his roughly padded fingertips. Pulsing currents rippled through her.

  His head lifted, and a smile curved his lips. His gaze pierced her, clear and blue and intense in the natural afternoon light.

  She shuddered. No holding back. That was Adam. That was how he ma
de her feel.

  As if she didn’t need to hold back, either.

  “Touch me,” she said, voice raspy. She guided his hand between her thighs. “Please touch me now.”

  His fingers slipped into her folds, probing and insistent. She sighed and parted her legs.

  “The way you respond to me...” He groaned.

  “I can’t help it.” She’d never experienced such elation in a man’s arms. She wanted to share everything with him.

  She reached down to stroke him, but he stilled her fingers, whispering, “Later, honey. I’m in the mood for dessert.”

  He slid down her body, dragging the quilt with him, exposing her breasts and tummy to cool air. He kissed the inside of her thighs, cupping her mound with one hand. Then his mouth found her, tasting, exploring, offering the gift of sheer pleasure.

  Yes.

  The single word seared her mind. This was more than great sex, more than a man and woman sharing their bodies, sharing a bed. This was something she couldn’t control, something she didn’t want to control, something she wanted desperately to control.

  His mouth moved on her again, his hands skipping up to caress her breasts. Coherent thought fled her mind.

  Only Adam and ecstasy remained.

  Nora smoothed Peter’s favorite dress shirt hanging in the bedroom closet. The crisp cotton blend caressed her fingertips as Peter’s subtle, masculine scent washed over her, filling her mind and soul with steadfast love and so many happy memories.

  Tears pricked her eyes. Her heart ached with missing Peter. Yet, at the same time, a tranquil certainty soothed her. Her spirit would join with his again someday, as surely as it would join the spirits of all her lost loved ones. Her mother, her gruff, authoritative father, and Frank, her first husband.

  When she departed this world, wouldn’t it be wonderful if Frank and Peter were both waiting for her? Quite possibly, their spirits already battled over which should greet her first. They’d shatter heaven’s peace with their ruckus.

  A smile touched her lips, and she placed a hand on her chest, over her heart. When she was twenty-two, Frank and Peter had competed for her attention. Although she’d met Peter first, Frank had pursued her with undeniable passion, stealing her away from long hours of caring for her father and giving her a life of her own. He’d been so much larger than life, his magical love overwhelming. Frank, her big, strong lumberjack.

  Thirty-seven years ago, Peter’s unassuming ways couldn’t compete with Frank’s verve. If Peter had declared his love sooner, who knew, she might have married him instead of rugged Frank Morgan. However, then she wouldn’t have experienced the vibrancy of Frank’s love and then her darling Jessie-girl would have never been born.

  She smoothed Peter’s shirt one last time, then pushed open the wall of clothes. Bending, she withdrew a stepstool from the back of the closet and climbed onto it. She rummaged through the top shelf, finally locating the cardboard box behind old sweaters. She carried the box to her bed, then sat down.

  At twenty-two, she’d chosen Frank, hurting Peter with her decision. He’d never married. Instead, he’d lived as a bachelor in a neighboring community. While she was married to Frank, Peter had never once approached her as anything other than an old friend. Yet, when Frank died, Peter’s steady hand was there for her, guiding her. Only then had she realized he’d never stopped loving her.

  It had been too soon, Frank dead but four weeks. However, grief-stricken and tortured over Jessie’s sudden departure, she’d welcomed his support, further alienating her daughter.

  Sighing, Nora opened the box and picked up the first of the framed photographs of Frank she’d packed away years ago out of respect for Peter. Frank’s broad face smiled at her from the blackened, silver frame. He cradled a drowsy, four-year-old Jessie in his arms.

  “Pumpkin’s asleep.” Even now, his deep voice whispered to her.

  Tears welling, she touched the cool glass. Although in some ways Frank had failed as a husband—just like she’d failed as his wife by sublimating her needs to his instead of acting as a true life partner—he’d been the most wonderful father.

  She glanced at her and Peter’s fifth anniversary portrait on the nightstand, moved there from the wall this morning. Now, this picture of Frank and Jessie would sit beside it, where it should have rested all along.

  Tears rolled down her face, hot and salty as they met her lips. She’d loved both her husbands, in such different ways.

  In her life, she’d suffered sorrow. Yet, she’d also been blessed.

  Now she would try her utmost to impart her life’s lessons to her daughter.

  Jess waved as Adam’s pickup spat dirt down her mother’s driveway. Once he’d turned left onto Old Village Road, heading back toward his place, she entered the house through the mudroom. He wouldn’t return from his trip north until the evening of the Young Achievers tribute for Pete, allowing her three days to shake the uneasy feeling that their relationship was racing beyond the casual boundaries they’d established.

  She removed her boots and hung up her purse. Stepping into the kitchen, she spied a note on the counter: Went to Thelma and Vince’s for supper. Thelma will drive me home later. Sorry I missed you. Mom. A telephone number followed.

  She winced. She’d promised her mother a simple supper for two, but hadn’t returned in time to prepare it. Nice daughter.

  Lifting the wall phone, she tapped out Thelma’s number, then hung up before the first ring. If she called now, Mom might feel obligated to change her plans. Leave it alone, Jess.

  The temptation to return to Adam’s pulled at her, but she would not indulge it. Whether it was due to all her excess free time or something else, her feelings for Adam had developed way too fast. She needed to step on the brakes a little or she’d face a ton of heartache when she left.

  She fixed herself a sandwich and ate in front of the TV. Two hours later, realizing she could barely recall the shows she’d watched, she carted her laptop upstairs and tried to work sitting on the bed. This morning, Sarah had emailed her the itinerary for her upcoming buying trip. Usually, reviewing her travel plans excited her, but tonight the itinerary blurred on the screen. Adam. Mom. Adam. Mom. Could she think of nothing else?

  She shook her head. Concentrate.

  The quiet of the room mocked her. The loud ticking of the old alarm clock marked each passing minute, reminding her with disturbing finality that she was alone. Just like her mom would be when she left again.

  Like she would be once she returned to Toronto.

  Half the country separating her from the people she loved most.

  Stomach churning, she paced the room. The base of her skull thudded. She liked being with Adam—liked it too much, obviously. When she’d fantasized about sleeping with him, she hadn’t anticipated how deeply he would affect her. Or that she’d put their needs—her needs—before her mom’s. Was she repeating her pattern of the last nine years?

  She rubbed her neck. Her gaze drifted to a framed photograph on the dresser she hadn’t seen in ages: her mom and dad in dressy clothes beside her and Danny wearing high school graduation caps and gowns. The ceremony had occurred in early June.

  Six short weeks later, both Dad and Danny were gone.

  She picked up the frame. “Dad, I miss you. Danny...” A lump formed in her throat. Biting her lower lip, she struggled to contain the waves of loss for her father and regret for Danny’s young life stolen too soon. So much pain and heartache. And now she’d opened herself to more potential hurt by falling hard for Adam.

  “Jessie? Are you all right?”

  Jess whirled around. Her mom stood behind her. Heart hammering, she set the picture on the dresser. “Sorry about supper.” She hugged her mom. “I know I promised—”

  “Shh. You were with Adam. I can’t hog all your time.”

  “But that’s why I came home—to be with you.”

  “I know. But I like Adam. I’m happy you’ve found someone to hang out with while yo
u’re here.” Her mother drew back, gaze drifting to the photo. “I didn’t upset you by bringing that old picture in here, did I?”

  Jess shook her head. “You didn’t upset me, Mom. I did. I—” How to explain her roller-coasting emotions? “Part of it is feeling I let you down, not returning when I said I would. Another part is just from being here alone. I don’t think I’ve been alone in this house since Dad died.” She smiled weakly. “It got to me.”

  “Oh Jessie.”

  “Some comfort I am to you, huh? I can’t even find any comfort for myself.”

  “If I’d known how to talk to you when you were a teenager—”

  “No. Don’t blame yourself. Dad raised me, too, yet you’re always blaming yourself. The other day, you said you chose to pull away from me when I was little. But I think Dad let you pull away from me. Looking back, I realize he was selfish that way.”

  “But he loved you, Jessie.”

  “You love me, too. But Dad indulged me. You’d set the rules, and if I broke them he bailed me out. He let you set yourself up as the bad guy. So whenever I had a problem, of course I went to him. I never went to you.”

  “You can come to me now, dear,” her mother murmured.

  “Thank you.” Jess tried to smile. “Do you agree with what I said about Dad?”

  “You idolized him. I didn’t want that to change. If I’d been more assertive—”

  “I’ll always cherish his memory, Mom, but it’s not a bad thing to realize my father was human. He had his faults, and that’s okay. God knows I have mine. And I don’t want to lose the closeness you and I finally share.”

  “How could we lose it?”

  “When I leave...” Her voice shook. She sank onto the edge of the bed. Her mother sat beside her, and they clasped hands. Throat scratchy, Jess asked, “I realize this is spur of the moment, but how would you feel about moving to Toronto to live with me?”

  “Live?” Her mother’s eyes widened.

  “I have a second bedroom, so you’d have your own space. I work long hours, so you’d have time for yourself, but we’d still have plenty of time to spend together. We’d go shopping, visit museums—”