Can't Hardly Breathe

by Gena Showalter

  "And what will I get in return?"

  "The most magnificent headboard ever to be carved."

  "No way. I already paid the toll. Use your brain, Porter, and negotiate me something you don't already owe me."

  "Very well. But I won't start our negotiations until after you've looked inside the mini fridge."

  "Did you put something for me in there?" She sounded surprised and excited.

  "Find out." He gave her a little push off the bed.

  She took the sheet with her, the material wrapped around her, as she trudged to the fridge.

  *

  DOROTHEA WONDERED WHAT she'd find inside. Whipped cream to eat off his body? A Red Bull to refuel for the next round of loving? Despite the darkened room, she had no trouble finding her way, knew the layout of every room. She opened the door--and snorted.

  "You shouldn't have, Danny boy. All the supplies for golden milk. How amazingly sweet you are--to yourself."

  "Failed to notice the bacon-garnished cupcake in back, I see."

  Really? She nudged the milk supplies aside and--sure enough. A cupcake with bits of bacon sprinkled on top.

  Dorothea had to blink back tears. "Thank you, Daniel."

  "Did I mention that as your boyfriend--your exclusive boyfriend--I expect to be served my golden milk every night and every morning?"

  "Only ten thousand times. I'm happy to make it for you, but we'll have to go to my room. Yours doesn't have a burner."

  He was on his feet a second later, heading for the door. Completely naked! A fact he must have forgotten.

  "Wait! You have to dress." She had to dress, too. She scrambled around the room, clutching the sheet close to her chest as she gathered her discarded--and now torn--clothing. Pulling on each item proved difficult with only one hand, but somehow she managed.

  "This is almost a deal breaker, sweetheart." He tugged on a pair of jeans, then collected a bag and filled it with the supplies from the fridge as well as her cupcake, which was protected by a plastic case. "I want to keep you naked forever."

  Forever? Her eyes widened and she flipped on the lights to study him. He must have realized his slip, because he couldn't hide his sudden scowl.

  Her feelings weren't hurt by the negative reaction. Much. He'd already warned her they had an expiration date.

  As they strode down the hall, she prayed no one was out and about. Unfortunately, they ran into one of the three patrons. The son of a local, who'd come to visit his pregnant sister. Fortunately, the guy didn't glance up from his phone as he passed them.

  Daniel called out, "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm her boyfriend."

  Oh, my stars. "Daniel."

  At least the patron kept going, lost in his own little world.

  "What?" Daniel demanded. "Want me to carry you? You look tried. Like all your energy has been drained by intense lovemaking."

  Lovemaking? "No, I--"

  "Okay, great." He crouched, fit his shoulder against her middle and lifted her off her feet.

  Laughing, she beat at his back. "How dare you treat me this way. I'm your boss."

  "I'm your gentleman lover, and gentleman lover will always trump boss." He turned the corner and ascended the staircase to the upper floor.

  "Earlier you said you weren't a gentleman. You even proved it! I never got my turn."

  "If you're trying to tell me you didn't have an orgasm, I'm going to spank you."

  "Not that," she said, and snorted. "The other thing. I didn't get to...you know...taste you."

  He missed a step.

  The hand on her butt softened, and he began to rub. "Are you pouting, sweetheart? Damn, that's hot." At the door, he set her on her feet. He was smiling his most wicked smile. "You're right. I didn't let you have your turn, and that was my mistake. One I'm going to make up to you." He fished the key out of her pocket and opened the door...only to walk her backward into the room. "We'll negotiate about the golden milk after you've had your turn." He placed the bag of goodies on her coffee table and slowly lowered his zipper, his smile widening. "Go ahead. Devour me."

  *

  DOROTHEA AWOKE WITH a smile. Until she realized Daniel wasn't in bed with her...wasn't anywhere in her room or even on the roof. He'd taken off. Why, that dirty piece of--

  Oh! He'd left a note, the darling.

  Couldn't sleep and didn't want to disturb you, but damn, next time you may just have to deal with being disturbed. Leaving is hell. I like you soft and warm against me.

  Yours, D.

  PS Where's my golden milk?

  She clutched the paper to her chest and sighed. That man. He was everything she'd ever dreamed, but also so much more. But he was hurting himself every time he refused to sleep. She wished she'd worn him out, wanted to give him peace and rest. The way he'd just given her the greatest night of her life.

  Her mind replayed some of her favorite moments.

  When she'd sucked his length and he'd begged her to take every drop of his climax.

  When, in the aftermath, he'd laughingly asked if he tasted better than bacon.

  When he'd drawn her a bubble bath and sat behind her, kissing her neck, washing her hair and massaging her back, never once complaining that she wore a swimsuit.

  When he'd made love to her while she was bent over the rim of the tub, water sloshing onto the floor, the lights off, per her request.

  When she'd curled in bed, exhausted and sore, and he'd fed her aspirin. Then he'd growled, "Can't get enough," and seduced her all over again. He'd been gentle that time, almost loving. But he didn't love her--yet.

  Dorothea planned to do everything in her power to win his heart. He wasn't the only one who liked a good challenge.

  She traced the outside of the rose tattoo, and a heavy weight settled over her heart. What if she won his heart, and he wanted to get married...and start a family?

  Would he be open to adoption?

  Whoa! Slow down. You're getting waaay ahead of yourself.

  Right. She stood on trembling legs and picked up her cell phone. She'd call him, shiver when she heard his sexy voice, then rail at him for leaving her. One way or another, she would help him fight the demons of his past.

  New mental note: research PTSD and the best ways to help a partner deal.

  If she called, would she come across as clingy? Their relationship was so new, and they hadn't negotiated any of the particulars. Heck, she was new to this.

  Okay. No phone call.

  Dorothea brushed her teeth, anchored her hair in a ponytail and donned her favorite tank and jogging shorts.

  After her run, she would shower. Maybe Daniel would join her.

  Daniel. Her boyfriend.

  Her phone released a strange buzz. Frowning, she glanced at the screen.

  The words Customers In Lobby flashed over the screen.

  What the--

  Wait. When Daniel first started working here, he'd mentioned "fixing your security problems as well as your technology problems."

  Dang it, she needed to put a stop to all these good deeds of his. She'd done nothing for him, and if she wasn't careful, an imbalance would develop. But what could you do for a man who could do everything for himself? Well, besides make him golden milk? And pleasure his brains out.

  Dorothea made her way to the lobby to deal with the customers. Her stomach rolled over when she spotted a sleeping Mrs. Hathaway behind the counter and a suit-clad Jazz in front of it.

  Oh, crap. He'd warned her. How could she have forgotten?

  She should have been prepared.

  She wasn't prepared.

  The gorgeous Charity Sparks stood beside him, radiant in red. She was speaking to him, but he snapped a retort, silencing her.

  Maybe he had ended things with her.

  Charity flushed and faked a smile, as if his reaction was exactly what she'd wanted.

  Dorothea was tempted to back out and get her mother to handle the newcomers. But she wasn't a coward. She'd faced 250 pounds of hard m
uscle and determination, and she'd won.

  Speaking of 250 pounds of hard muscle and determination, she wished Daniel were here for moral support.

  I'm smart, strong and--sometimes--confident. I can do this on my own.

  She stepped up to the counter and smiled at Jazz. "Hello, Jazz. Charity. How may I help you?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DANIEL HAD SPENT the past few hours working on the headboard in his dad's garage. He'd made a lot of progress, but he hadn't been able to finish because he'd had to limit his use of power tools while Adonis and Echo slept. And farted. Unlike his dad, they weren't hard of hearing. But he'd had to stay busy. He wanted to be near Thea, but he'd had no desire to thrash and moan about gunfire and death while in bed with her.

  When could he have her again? No one had ever felt so good or hot or wet. So...perfect. Never had he come so hard.

  He should have stayed with her. Shouldn't have abandoned her. Shouldn't have let her wake up alone in the bed they'd shared.

  He sucked. He would have loved to see her surrounded by morning light. Would have loved to trace her scars, and pray she told him how she'd gotten them...why she only had a one in a million shot at getting pregnant.

  She'd lost a baby, hadn't she?

  He hated the thought of her in pain.

  Desperate to see her, he wrote his dad a note and left it on the kitchen table.

  I'll be at the inn. Will you bring Adonis and Echo to me when you visit Anthony? Love you.

  He returned to the inn with several pieces of the headboard. No one was up as he carried each one to the theme room. Harlow's murals were coming along nicely. The colors she'd used on the different seasons were vivid and lifelike. In winter, the snow seemed to glitter as it fell, and in summer, waves seemed to ripple through the river.

  "I've missed you, Dorothea."

  The silkily spoken words echoed down the hall and gave Daniel pause. So did the affectionate tone.

  He stalked into the lobby and found a group of four crowded around the counter. One woman, three men. Mrs. Hathaway was slumped in a chair, snoring. No doubt nothing would wake her.

  Daniel came up alongside Thea and wrapped an arm around her waist, glad to have her in reach again. He'd missed her more than he was comfortable admitting.

  He kissed her temple and said, "Glad to see you're still wearing the white polish."

  She trembled against him.

  "Can we help you?" he asked the others.

  The guy--the ex, he realized. The weatherman. Daniel recognized the polished hair and surfer-boy face. Weatherman was staring at Thea as if she were the answer to all his problems. Which was a major fucking problem.

  "Daniel, meet Jazz Connors. He's here to do a story on our town's weather patterns," Thea explained with false cheer. "This is his mistress--oh, I'm sorry, his girlfriend, Charity Sparks."

  "Ex," Weatherman said.

  Charity cast a nervous glance to the men standing behind her. "I didn't break them up. They were separated when Jazz and I got together."

  "No," Thea said, "we weren't."

  "Let's not do this here." Weatherman met Daniel's glare with one of his own. "Who are you?"

  Daniel smiled without an ounce of humor. "I'm the boyfriend. And you'll have to excuse my disheveled appearance. I spent the entire night assuaging someone's--and I won't mention any names--insatiable lust."

  He expected a reprimand, but Thea surprised him, turning to trace her fingertips down his chest. "I believe we decided your title is gentleman lover."

  Hot damn, but he could have kissed her.

  What the hell? She belonged to him now. They were in this thing together; they'd decided. He kissed her.

  Weatherman gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles quickly bleaching of color; it was suddenly very clear he still had feelings for Thea.

  Daniel understood. Thea was one of a kind. No one had a sense of humor like hers. No one was more kind or caring, no one more giving. No one had better dance moves, or charmed others so easily. No one had a body like hers. No one had lips like hers. She was passionate enough to blow his ever-loving mind. Beautiful in every way.

  But she's mine.

  The fact that Weatherman had cheated on her and then taken a year to fight for her, well, he'd just proved how stupid he was.

  "We talked days ago, and you didn't mention a boyfriend," Weatherman grated.

  "You guys talk? Because I thought you'd told your ex to leave you the hell alone." Daniel directed the words to Weatherman, knowing the bastard was trying to drive a wedge of jealousy between him and Thea. Not just stupid. Idiotic.

  "Something like that." Her glistening lips pursed. "He calls me. He even used an app to track my phone so he could accost me while I was in the city."

  Well, now. If they were dealing with a stalker situation, things were gonna get mean. And by things he meant his temper.

  He made a mental note to ask Brock and Jude to do a background check on the guy.

  "He calls you again, he and I are going to have a problem," Daniel said, staring at Weatherman. A grin curved his mouth, this one all bite and malice. "I tend to beat my problems bloody."

  Weatherman blanched and grumbled, "So unprofessional."

  Dorothea shrugged, all Daniel's the best man I know. At least, he hoped. The girl, Charity, paled.

  "We're just here to film a three-part segment about the tornadoes, storms and earthquakes the town has experienced in recent times." Weatherman shifted from one Italian loafer to the other. "Also...I thought I could film you while I'm here and present the video to my network. I can help you get the job of your dreams. Like we always planned."

  Charity offered Thea a brittle smile. "Don't worry about your appearance. I can help with hair and makeup."

  Thea stiffened, and Daniel cursed the blonde with every fiber of his being. If assholes were airplanes, the inn would now be classified as an airport.

  "You thinking what the rest of us are thinking?" he asked Miz Charity. "That Thea is going to overshadow anyone who's on camera with her?"

  Petting his chest once again, Thea rested her head on his shoulder.

  "I... Well... Yes, of course." Charity looked away, saying, "Your inn is so...unique, Dorothea." She ran her finger over the laminate on the counter. "My grandmother used to have this design in her kitchen."

  "May I speak with you in private, Dorothea?" Weatherman glanced between her and Daniel. "Please."

  No way in hell. Daniel knew the guy wanted Thea back in his bed. And why wouldn't he? The woman had nearly burned Daniel alive. He'd taken her three times, three different ways, and he hadn't gotten nearly enough of her.

  Usually at this point in a "relationship," his more violent memories began to plague him. He would move on to a new woman, a new challenge, in need of a new distraction. But he had no glimmer of disconnect this time. He only wanted more of Thea. More of her humor. Her kisses. Her touch. Her breathless moans of surrender. There was nothing sweeter.

  Besides, he already had a new and better challenge. Several, actually. Making her smile and laugh--making her happy. The rewards would far outshine any he would find inside another woman.

  "A chat won't be necessary," Thea announced, saving him from having to pull the he-man card. "We've said all we need to say to each other."

  "Here, let me give you guys the address to the nearest hotel. I think you'll really enjoy the amenities. Namely, you'll get to keep your balls." Daniel reached for a piece of paper.

  Thea might have whimpered and whispered, "But the money I'd make..."

  Charity looked hopeful. "I didn't know there was a hotel within--"

  "No. The nearest hotel is at least twenty miles away," Jazz said, glaring at Daniel. "We'll stay here."

  "Wonderful." Blanking her expression, Charity waved her hand through the air. "Here is absolutely...fine."

  An-n-nd Jazz continued to glare at him.

  "Well, all right, then." Thea inhaled deep, exhaled slow. "Let's s
ee what we have available."

  The bell over the door tinkled, and Virgil came rushing inside, dragged by Adonis and Echo.

  Gasping for breath, Virgil said, "Here they are. Delivered as requested, son."

  Jazz, Charity and company split like the Red Sea. The dogs released a steady stream of barks until they reached the counter, where they promptly jumped up to rest their front paws.

  Virgil eyed the newcomers and the array of equipment scattered about the room with suspicion. When his gaze landed on Weatherman, he snapped his fingers. "I recognize you."

  Jazz brightened. "You sure do, sir. I'm Jazz Connors." He extended his hand to shake. "I'm chief meteorologist for Channel--"

  "No, no, that's not it. You're our sweet little Dorothea's ex-husband."

  Now Jazz paled. "I...I'm..."

  Virgil slapped his thigh. "Only a real bumble brain can't keep his unmentionable tucked into his unmentionables while he's with a woman other than his wife. An honorable man does everything he can to fix the problems at home without straying."

  Jazz flinched but recovered quickly. "If I could go back, sir--"

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Virgil interjected. "If my sister had been born with a pecker, she would have been my brother. Ain't no use wishing for what ain't."

  "Mr. Porter, please," Thea said on a groan.

  "Now, I'm sorry to burn the ears of a lady, but I can't keep quiet about a grave injustice," the old man said, and Daniel grinned at the singular use of lady. "I hope you don't mind, but your dear old momma told me all about your marital troubles, and it made me just about as mad as a donkey chewing on bumblebees. And, honey, if a man is going to commit the crime, he needs to do the time."

  "If you'll just let me explain," Weatherman said.

  Vigil gave him the stinky side-eye. "If excuses were gooses, we'd all have a happy Thanksgiving. You remember that."

  Weatherman was a fool. He'd chosen Charity over Thea. A rotten apple over a lush orange. His mistake. My gain.

  Thea blinked up at Daniel. "This is really happening?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Would you stop calling me ma'am?"

  "No, ma'am. I have manners. My daddy raised me right."

  Virgil beamed at him.

  "Um...our room key, please?" Charity looked like a convict intent on escape.

  Weatherman cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders and picked up his conversation with Virgil. "The heart wants what the heart wants."

  Virgil wasn't interested in excuses. "I think you mean the pecker wanted what the pecker wanted."