“To turn out the lights, I’d have to let you go,” he said, and ripped his shirt over his head. The dog tags and locket she’d seen before still hung around his neck and clanked between his muscled pecs.
Am I drooling? “Yes, but only for a moment.”
“A moment is too long.” He traced his fingers over the waist of her jeans. His knuckles brushed her navel, and she groaned. “You are so damn beautiful.”
Was she? The question came automatically, and for the first time, it annoyed her. She was!
Braced on one hand, he pulled the tie from her hair and spread her dark curls around her face. Then he traced a fingertip from her brow to her shoulder, following a trail of freckles.
The task seemed to mesmerize him. It unraveled her.
“Daniel.”
“Yes, Thea. Yes.” He kissed her again. Deep and soul-wrenching.
She clung to him. As he arched his hips again and again, fanning the flames of her desire, she arched her own, caught up in the moment, the sensations.
“That’s the way, sweetheart. Keep doing that.” As he spoke, he rolled over, putting her on top of him.
They continued to grind together. He flattened his hands on her lower back, careful to remain above the waist of her jeans, and guided her into a counterclockwise rhythm. The sound of their shallow but heavy inhalations filled the room.
A single rational thought intruded: this is a lot more than a kiss.
Yes, and she would care. Tomorrow. “More,” she commanded now. One climax. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Then they could return to being friends. Not that he’d accepted her offer of friendship.
I don’t want to be your friend, Thea. I want to be your lover.
He quickened his pace, every thrust wonderfully aggressive and frantic. Still that agonizing pressure continued to build inside her…until her body felt stretched to the max. Any second now…any moment…
“Daniel!” Her body convulsed against his. She bit the cord running from his neck to his shoulder to stop a scream from escaping. Too much! The pleasure was too much. A little quake erupted in each of her cells—millions of little ones produced a massive one. Her inner walls constricted, her bones seeming to melt.
As her teeth sank deeper, Daniel roared. He stiffened beneath her and thrust once, twice more before collapsing on the floor.
The timer on his watch beeped.
She tried to catch her breath…tried to fight the reality of what she’d just done. And with whom she’d done it.
Perhaps Daniel sensed her growing wish to leap to her feet and run away, because he rolled her over, placing her beneath him, effectively trapping her.
His features were languid and content, his eyes sparkling with pleasure.
She stared at him, fascinated. I did this to him. Me. And in turn, he had stoked a need over a decade old, filling her with delight. No one, ever, had looked at her like that, not even Jazz.
“You are the first woman to make me come in my pants,” he told her with a laugh, and he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. “Didn’t even happen when I was a horny teenager.”
“Maybe that’s my superpower,” she said, unsure where the words were coming from. Why fight it? “Everyone has a superpower, you know.”
“So…you’re Spontaneous Combustion Girl?”
She giggled like the schoolgirl she’d never really been and covered her mouth. Could I be any less cool? “Actually, I’m the belt buckle riding champion of the world.”
His sparkling eyes brightened, reminding her of a starless black sky framed by molten gold. “I guess that makes me Cowboy Creampants.”
Another giggle escaped.
Wow! She couldn’t believe she was sprawled on the floor with Daniel Porter. After they’d both climaxed. In their freaking pants. They were acting so at ease with each other. It was weird and nice and completely disconcerting.
“So when should we get married?” she asked, deciding to tease him.
The color vanished from his face, leaving him ashen. “I…uh… Married?”
“You do want to marry me, right? I mean, you don’t kiss a woman like that unless you’ve got forever-after plans.” Maintaining a serious expression proved difficult. Maybe she could handle the aftereffects of a secret affair, after all. Right now, she wasn’t upset by his dismay but highly amused.
Just wait until the afterglow wears off.
“I’m thinking next winter, around Christmastime,” she added. “But you better not think you can get away with combining my anniversary present with my Christmas present. You do, and there will be blood.”
The more she spoke, the more he relaxed. “You are a very naughty girl. How did I not know this?”
“I’m just guessing, of course, but maybe because you never took the time to get to know me.”
“Ouch.”
“Truth is truth, Creampants.”
“Well, here’s a new truth. I was dumb, but now I’m smart. I am getting to know you better.”
She gave his chest a bless your darling heart pat.
“When you relay this story to your friends—” he began.
“I would never—” she interjected, only to stop. She might relay some of it. But only because she needed advice about what the whole interaction meant and what she should do next. She waved her hand. “Continue.”
“Be kind to me. Tell them I was so manly I took care of you, then walked away without a single concern for myself.”
She snickered. “Yes, because you are such a giver.”
“I know, right?” He traced a path down the ridges of her spine. “All I do is give, give, give.”
Wanting—needing—to touch him in return, she threaded her fingers through his chains and rested her palm on his sternum. “Stay true to your nature and give me the details about your locket.” He was getting to know her; it was only fair that she get to know him, too.
“It belonged to my mother.” He opened the locket to show a picture of Bonnie Porter, a beautiful woman with Daniel’s dark hair and amber eyes. “She used to keep a picture of me inside, said she liked to have me close to her heart at all times. When she died, I replaced the picture with one of her so I could have her close to my heart.”
“I understand.” With her free hand, she traced her fingertips over her tattoo. The rose she carried close to her heart. A reminder of her baby—probably her only baby. Definitely her only. According to multiple doctors, she had a one in a million chance of having another. Her body was too scarred to have another with any kind of ease.
Goodbye, afterglow.
Stop! Before you break down.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Concentrate on him. He still used an endearment. But how long would it last? When would he wash his hands of her and turn his attention to someone else?
“Well,” she said, and cleared her throat. Be the one who leaves, not the one who’s left behind. “Four guests stayed at the inn last night, and they’ll be getting up any moment, wanting breakfast.” Which meant she would have to cook, since Carol was out of town.
“Why did you and the ex-husband split?” he asked, ignoring her comments.
She wasn’t surprised he knew about Jazz. They lived in a small town, and everyone knew everybody’s business. Plus, her mom had once hung wedding photos in the lobby. Dorothea had no desire to share the truth, however; it made her look pathetic. And yes, she knew her mind-set was wrong. She wasn’t the one who should be ashamed.
“He cheated on me,” she finally admitted.
“He’s an idiot.”
“Yes,” she said, then changed the subject. “What made you join the army?”
“Chicks like warriors.”
“So…sex?”
“Yes, ma’am.
Also, I thought I wanted to escape Strawberry Valley and memories of my mom. I quickly found out those memories would see me through the worst of times.”
How sweet. And unexpected. He had depths she hadn’t known to plumb.
Afraid of hearing more and softening too much, she quipped, “You ready to hear my life history?”
He stiffened, confusing her. “This is probably going to make you angry, but…I did a background check on you. In my defense,” he rushed on, “you’d just come to my room and asked me to ravish your gloriously naked body. I couldn’t get my brain to work—still can’t. I wanted to know more about you, and the check seemed like the fastest way.”
Her first reaction probably shouldn’t be delight and satisfaction that he’d been so curious about her, he’d gone digging for info. And yet pleasure fluttered soft wings inside her.
Shouldn’t encourage him. She put as much irritation as possible in her tone when she said, “You invaded my privacy. Don’t do it again.”
He sat up to look at her, his brows furrowed. “You’re pleased?”
“No. Yes.” Deny and lie wasn’t her style. She sighed. “How I feel is neither here nor there, Mr. Porter. I want a detailed report about your life on my desk first thing in the morning.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her, then muttered something that sounded like “Such an odd duck.”
“Go ahead and leave it with my he-ceptionist. And tell him to highlight the good parts, otherwise I’m sure to be bored out of my mind.”
He mock growled at her. “I’m your very manly assistant, and I’ll hear you admit the truth.” Merciless, he tickled her, making her squeal like a hyena.
“Fine. You’re my…receptionist.”
“Better.” He leaned down and licked her neck.
Her stomach quivered…and then it twisted. Her scars! What if his report on her mentioned her fall? Her loss?
“What did you learn about me?” she said through gritted teeth. “Tell me.”
“There’s the anger I expected.” With a sigh, he plopped at her side. “I learned you were married and divorced, and that you’d dropped out of meteorology school.”
She stared at him hard, determined to catch any minute change in his facial expression. “That’s it?”
No change. “That’s it.”
She relaxed, but only slightly. “You invaded my privacy, Daniel.” A repeat of her earlier words, though they were said with a sharper tone this time.
“I know. And I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, you have my word. You mean too much to me, and betraying your trust would hurt me as much as you.”
That was something, at least. Not to mention sweet as sugar—and panty-melting hot. I’m important to him!
Now, now. Don’t you go getting a big head. Even his rescue dog is important to him.
“Why’d you drop out?” he asked. “You clearly love all things weather.”
Tell him about the depths of her foolishness? Her pathetic attempt to make herself invaluable to a man who’d later proved he’d never really loved her? No, thanks.
“I just did,” she said, and sat up. “I decided it was time to come home.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” Tugging on a lock of her hair, he said, “But I’m still curious about the change. Don’t tell me the reason if you don’t want to, but at least give me a chance to make you want to tell me.”
She blinked down at him, shocked. “What do you mean, exactly?” Just in case she’d misunderstood.
He sat up now, his bare shoulder brushing her clothed one. Despite her orgasm, desire for him flared anew.
Had he noticed?
Pleasure glittered in his eyes. “I want to date you,” he said. “For real. Do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”
Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “Wh-what?”
“I don’t want a one-night stand with you, or even a friends-with-benefits thing. I want to be the only man you’re dating because you’ll be the only girl I’m dating.”
The last words were basically growled at her. Had Daniel Porter really, truly offered her what she’d dreamed of having since the seventh grade? His unadulterated affection—long-term.
A sense of wonder wrapped her in a sweet embrace, and she began to smile. The sun was rising inside her.
“We’ll still have to keep it a secret, of course,” he added.
An-n-nd the sun set. “A secret,” she echoed.
“I don’t want my dad planning our wedding, expecting grandkids and getting hurt when things end.”
When, he’d said. Again. “You expect us to fail.” And she—Dorothea Mathis—was to be his dirty little secret. Not good enough to tell the world she’s mine!
Sickness replaced the sense of wonder. Well, screw him. The man she chose would want to show her off to the world, no matter what the future had in store.
“I’m being realistic,” he said. “I’m not in a place where I can make a woman happy for years or even months.”
“You can if you love her. Love lasts forever.” Great. She’d just dropped the L word. No matter. He could deal. She didn’t love him anymore, but the potential was there.
“Sweetheart,” he said gently, so gently it broke the pieces of her heart that were already broken. He was like a parent telling his child that Santa wasn’t real. “You, more than anyone, should know those words are simply a romanticized idea. Men and women might burn for each other, but in the end someone always gets hurt.”
Was that what had happened with Jazz? Had they burned for each other until the flame died?
Maybe, maybe not. On her end, she wasn’t sure she’d ever really burned for him. He’d smiled at her, and she’d felt almost drunk with her first taste of feminine power. He’d paid attention to her, spoken kind words and had genuinely seemed to enjoy her company, and she’d been grateful, not overcome by lust or love.
“If we’re not going to last, why do you even want to date me at all?” she asked.
“I mentioned the part about men and women burning for each other, right?”
“You did,” she grated. “But I don’t want to be a dirty little secret, Daniel, as if you’re ashamed of me. I’ve been ashamed of myself for too long, and that ends today. I might be the owner of a crumbling inn,” she continued, “might not possess the ideal beauty, but I’m worth something.”
Fierce and gorgeous and battle ready, he jumped to his feet. He was a thousand dreams come true…a million fantasies in the making. An illusion. He was nothing but a heartbreak waiting to happen. “I’m not ashamed of you, Thea. Of course you’re worth something. You’re worth everything.”
Pretty words. Always he offered pretty words. A gift—or his personal favorite, a reward.
“Everything?” She laughed without humor. “Your actions say otherwise. And what about your love of challenges, huh? I’d date you, you’d win my affections but still keep me a secret while the flames burned out. Then you’d dump me. Hurt me.”
“I would never hurt you. Not purposely. I only want to protect—”
“Your dad. I know. He comes first. But I’m tired, so tired, of coming in second place. My dad abandoned his wife, my sister and me, choosing to raise another woman’s children instead. Did you know that? My husband put his career and his girlfriend in front of me. I won’t be another man’s disposable anything. I deserve better.” Head high, she righted her clothing and walked out of the room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DOROTHEA REFUSED TO think about Daniel for the rest of the day. Or ever. Refused to think about his earth-shattering kiss, and her life-changing orgasm. Life. Changing. In fact, she decided to treat the day like any other. She painted her nails dual colors—blue = sad, purple = determined—and jogged ten miles and showered. She also cleaned an entire hallw
ay of rooms as she waited for Harlow Glass to arrive.
Okay, that was new. Eagerly watching for the former bully she’d once despised. But come on! I’m getting a theme room!
Maybe she should have painted her nails happy pink.
Finally the brunette arrived. Nearly bubbling over with anticipation, she showed Harlow to the room. But…never again would Dorothea think of it as the Four Seasons. Try: Orgasm City. Or Five Minutes in Paradise.
But she wasn’t thinking about Daniel.
Right. Dorothea told Harlow everything she’d like to see on the walls.
“All doable.” Harlow rubbed her beautifully rounded belly as she listened. “I’m going to use non-toxic paint, but don’t worry, it won’t affect the colors.”
Envy scalded her.
Envy? No! Unacceptable. Her child was taken from her, yes, but she wouldn’t begrudge another woman’s joy.
“Thank you. For everything,” Dorothea said.
“Gotta admit, I was over the moon when Daniel told me about the theme room.” Harlow toyed with a lock of hair. The gorgeous teen had grown into a stunning woman with a kind heart. Falling on hard times—and then finding love—had changed her. “I totally adore the weather premise…but what do you think of doing a romance novel theme next? Imagine it! You could do anything from the Viking era to futuristic. Oh! Did you know there are several romance series based on West’s video games? You could do a Lords of the Underworld room. Or Alice in Zombieland. I’ll paint it free of charge as well, if you’ll let me help with the design.”
West, or Lincoln West, was Jessie Kay’s husband. If he kicked in on a room, too, she’d be set! And oh, wow, Daniel’s barter system was one of the best things to ever happen to her.
“Jessie Kay gets to pick the second room, but she hasn’t told me what she wants,” Dorothea said. Before their orgasm-fest, Daniel had marched into the room she was cleaning and made the announcement. “Who knows? She could select one of West’s games. Since you’re helping me with the murals, you get to pick and design the third room. You can totally go with a romance novel theme and paint anything you want.”
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