by Monica Rush
“I have a car waiting.” Paddy glances around the kitchen as if the room is going to offer any answers. From the sounds of it, he’s already lost his mind. Who retires in his sixties and at the height of his career? The construction business is booming, especially in Florida with all the weather we battle every season. “Any questions?”
That draws my attention. Any questions? Is he kidding me? He just handed over the keys to the O’Malley Empire. The possessions aren’t what has me dumbfounded. No, it’s that he’s wrapped his gift in a tight little sexy bow in the shape of a feisty girl-next-door that has me numb, yet hard as a fucking rock. The fact I’m even considering taking the offer—in its entirety—has me questioning my own sanity.
“Paddy,” I start, unsure which words to use. “Think about this. You can’t be serious. Why not just give Bobbi enough money to get her started on a new life? Why involve me?
“She doesn’t need money. She needs a home. She needs someone to take care of her while she’s off taking care of every damned stray in the neighborhood. She needs you, Dean.” Paddy’s expression hardens as he studies me. “And, if I’m being honest, you look like you need her right back.”
Like hell. I return my attention to the window and catch a glimpse of Bobbi dancing around with a pile of dogs in that small back yard. At least she put on a dry shirt. Images of her hard nipples tenting the silky fabric of her bikini top will forever be burned into my brain. I lick my lips and swallow to wet my throat. The rain that’s been threatening to fall is here, slowly tricking down as the thick clouds move in.
“I don’t need anyone,” I reply gruffly, lying to myself as much as I’m lying to my boss. Bobbi—sweet, feisty little Bobbi—is now dancing in the showers, laughing and holding out her hands as she twirls. The storm picks up, the rain drenching her all over again. She drops her head back and opens her mouth as she slows, catching moisture on her lips and tongue.
I can barely breathe as I watch the show, opening my palms against the window pane. Jesus God, she’s about to have me come undone with the way that shirt cups her curves like a second skin.
But I can’t have her, not the way Paddy wants me to have her. To have and to fucking hold. No thank you. This man puts nothing before the next job, and a life on the open road. This man is a free spirit, living life in the moment and never having any regrets. This man—
Is now alone in a kitchen.
I whip around, jerking my head in all directions. How the hell did my boss sneak out without me hearing? I head for the front door and stride outside, ignoring the rain as it pounds down. I fucking hate this state in February—hell, I’m not particularly fond of it any month of the year. The taillights of the car shines through the fog of the storm that’s settled in. It’s the last I see of Paddy O’Malley, and that bothers me more than it should. He’s been good to me. With him giving me all the worldly possessions he has outside of his place in Arizona and the collection of rare bikes he houses there, he’s been too good to me. I can’t accept all this.
It’s not like I have a choice, though. I was Paddy’s top preference, but I wasn’t his only option. From what Paddy says, Bruce, the only other foreman at O’Malley Construction who’s run a crew longer than I have, is anxiously hoping I turn down the offer so he can step in and take over. So he can step in and take everything. I’ve already seen the way he eyes Bobbi, like he’s looking for some shadowy corner to drag her off to and fuck her.
Suddenly, I’m pissed. There’s no way in hell I’m letting Bruce anywhere near Bobbi. She’s my responsibility, and I realize I don’t have a problem with that nearly as much as I thought I would. I do, however, have a problem with Bruce and the way he looks at what’s mine. He has no right. Now that I’ve come to terms with my current situation, now that I fully accept Paddy’s conditions, I’m all in. Bobbi is mine to protect, full stop. She’s mine.
My happiness—and my love of the open road—don’t hold a candle to that.
I stand in the back yard for a long time, drenched and not caring. When I finally slosh back inside, my boots now full of water, I fall into a kitchen chair and stare at the table. A flash of lightning, followed by an immediate crack of thunder, sends the house into darkness. Of course, the storm would knock out the power. Absolutely fucking perfect. I didn’t come here intending to stay longer than a day. Everything I own fits in my saddlebags. Paddy’s not one to keep a lot in the fridge, so chances are there’s no food. I’m sure Bobbi has food at her place. Hell, we’ll break into the giant bags of dog food she always has on hand if things get desperate. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.
I scowl. I’m not used to living anywhere longer than it takes to complete a job. What else should I be worried about in this ridiculous—
That’s when I hear it. It’s faint at first, then grows louder. Is that a whimper? Yes. Not just one, but several—and now scratches join in the chorus, all centered at the back door.
I roll my eyes. Bobbi’s dogs are loose. Now, of course, they’re my problem right along with Bobbi. Pushing away from the table—reluctantly, since I never agreed to taking in strays, too—I stomp through the dark to the back door and throw it open, ready to yell at whatever animal happens to be there.
Instead, I nearly swallow my own tongue at the sight. Bobbi, dripping like a cute little half-drowned kitten herself, is standing on the covered back porch, a shivering puppy in her arms. She’s shivering, too. “The power is out,” she says, her lower lip quivering. “It’s dark. Is, um, Paddy here?”
I lean against the door frame, taking her in. “Nope. I’m—house sitting.”
“Oh.” I don’t miss how wide her eyes have grown. She’s scared, though I know she’ll never admit to it.
She glances in all directions before making a sound that’s something between a laugh and a groan. For whatever reason, I want her to make it again. “I, um… I also don’t have any heat when there’s no power.”
“Get in here.” I can’t stand to see her like this and open the door wide. Her wave of rescue dogs follow. I count two, three, four… Mr. Doolittle—what the hell kind of name is that, anyway?—counts as two. Jesus, just how many dogs did this woman rescue?
“Let me build a fire.” We move into the living room, and I distract myself with splitting kindling and getting the fireplace going, staying focused on the flames until I have it nice and hot. Finally, I stand and turn…and freeze.
Where the hell did she find all these candles? Not just any candles, but the smelly kind women like. I never took Paddy for scented candles and I know Bobbi didn’t have them hidden somewhere on her, not with the way her wet clothes hugged her body. That means the candles were already in the house and she knew exactly where to find them.
Just how familiar is she with this place?
Somehow, she’s got the small herd cuddling and curled up, gnawing on enormous dog biscuits she found somewhere and working to get warm, leaving her alone on the little loveseat Paddy should have gotten rid of years ago. Since every other surface is covered with a canine, I take a seat next to her and can’t help noticing how beautiful she looks as the flicker of firelight catches in her emerald eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, breathless, lifting her chin as I inch closer. There’s no better time than the present to see if this—whatever this is between us—is going to work the way I think it will. The way I hope it will, if I’m totally honest.
“Like what?” I lick my lips and, before I know it, I’m on my knees in front of her. I stop trying to reason with my reason and just go with it. I have no clue why I’m giving Bobbi the full-court press. But I am and won’t stop until she tells me to—if she tells me to. Judging by that heated twinkle in her eyes, I seriously doubt she’s going to utter a word of protest. No doubt she’s through trying to reason with her reason, too. “Like I’m about to pick up where we left off? Because that’s exactly what I’m doing, Bobbi. I assume you don’t have a problem with that.”
&
nbsp; “It depends.” She flashes a bold little smile, though her cheeks are bright red. “Where, exactly, did we leave off?”
Even as she asks, she opens her legs and welcomes me between them. I smell her want for me, that musky fragrance, and lick my lips to taste the source.
“Right here, angel.” I move in closer and rest my hands at the waistband of her shorts.
“Angel?” she snorts and lifts her hips, granting me access to remove them. So I do, leaving her in a pair of dainty, lacy boy shorts. “Really?”
“What’s wrong with angel?” I pull off her shirt, blinking as I realize she’s now wearing a bra that matches the lacy panties. Damn, that’s sexy as shit. Flashbacks of that day in the bathroom playback in my head, and my cock feels like it’s about to explode. I have to have her, I have to make her mine. Tonight and every night, like I’ve been wanting to do since she played with her hot little clit right in front of me, teasing me, taunting me. Tonight, that all changes. “A lot of girls like nicknames.”
“Well, I’m not like a lot of girls.”
I grin and chuckle deep in the back of my throat and slowly slide my body down hers, dragging my nose along her torso—her sweet, tight, delicious torso. “You can say that again.” I trail kisses across her skin, grinning when I spot pebbles of goose bumps.
“Um…” Bobbi shivers, her momentary bravado clearly shaken as my lips graze across her belly.
“Shh, sweetness.” I continue to kiss her creamy flesh. “I’ve been dreaming of this since that day you teased me by touching yourself right in front of me.”
“In the bathroom,” she adds breathlessly. “I have, too.”
My mouth waters in anticipation of the sweet, sweet prize waiting for me between her legs. I trace her belly button with my tongue, prolonging my torture before I finally land on my target, the object of the intoxicating fragrance coming off her body. “Every time I stroke my cock, it’s your pussy wrapping around me, pulling me in. I’m driving into your body as I pump in and out of my fist. When I come, it’s your hole I’m filling.”
She shivers as I drop my mouth to her hipbone, nibbling the sensitive spot. I lower myself between her thighs and run my finger along the edge of her panties. She sucks in a breath. When I slip my touch beneath the fabric and brush her wet curls, her hips come off the couch.
“Oh god,” she whispers. At first I relish in the reaction, but then her thighs start to shake in earnest. I lean back on my heels, glancing up at her face as she covers her eyes with her hand. “Oh my god,” she mutters, hiccupping on a laugh. “I can’t believe this is finally happening.”
“Um, Bobbi?”
“Just do it.” Even as she orders me to do whatever it is she thinks I’m about to do, she snaps her knees closed.
My eyebrows lift and I stare. I’m not going to just do anything. Hell, she won’t even look at me now. “What’s going on?”
“Just do the thing with your finger. Or… your whatever.”
“My whatever?” I don’t know whether to be offended or concerned. “Bobbi, look at me.”
She whips her gaze back to my face, the look in her eyes hot, desperate. “Dean, come on. Just go already.”
The dots suddenly connect in my brain, only I can’t fucking believe it. I pull her into a sitting position and hold her gaze with mine. “I need you to be honest with me. Are you a virgin?”
She looks away, her cheeks once again scarlet. “Why does that matter?” she asks stubbornly. “It can’t make that much of a difference to—to someone like you.”
I can’t take offense at the insult. Not when she’s trembling so hard. “Sweetheart,” I say and rest my hand to her cheek. Her gaze swings back to me. I see fear, but I also see curiosity. And, dare I say, need. Ardent, hungry need. It lights a fire deep inside me that immediately threatens to grow out of control. “It matters, Bobbi. To me. To you. It matters, damn it.”
“I want it to be you,” she whispers and leans in to kiss me, lingering our lips together. “I’ve wanted it to be you for so long.”
All my control, all my worry, flies out the window as I stare at her, unwilling to stop the hard curve of my smile. My sweet, virginal Bobbi, all spitfire and smoke, has been wanting my hands all over her body, my mouth taking what’s mine, my thick cock buried inside her, just as I have wanted.
Well, far be it from me to let a lady down.
“So how exactly have you wanted me?” I don’t give her a chance to reply at first, kissing her long and hard before trailing my lips down between her firm, ripe breasts as I descend lower, lower, until I position myself between her legs once more. “Like this?” I then plant a kiss on the inside of either thigh. “Do you want me to touch you the way you touched yourself in front of me?”
“Yes.” She spreads her knees more, and the soft whimper of agreement that drifts down from her lips is more than enough yes for me.
Dear God, I smell her. Her scent fills my lungs. I can’t get enough and close in, tossing the panties aside and running my nose along the crease of her lips. When that’s not enough, I dart my tongue out, tasting her for the first time.
And once again, I’m gone. She’s delicious. She’s more than that. She’s intoxicating, everything I imagined she’d be. I spread her pussy lips with my fingers, exposing her bright pink, virgin clit, so swollen and eager to explode by my hand. By my tongue. I lick, swiping from entrance to entrance, lapping up her juices. This woman, this beautiful being, is mine. Totally and completely, no negotiation. I want her for more than the here and now. And, I want her to know that.
“My beautiful Bobbi,” I growl and use my tongue to roll lazy circles around her tight bundle of nerves. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” she responds immediately, the words breathless. She lifts her hips upward, offering herself to me, giving me better access. I grab her and hold her up, keeping her steady so I can feast on her flesh.
I know she doesn’t mean it though—she gave in too quickly, too automatically, her mind only on how I’m making her feel. But that’s okay. I’ve got all the time in the world to convince her that what she just promised is real. I slide my finger into her tight pussy and lap up the cream the gesture extracts from her sweet virginity. “Say it again, Bobbi.”
“I’m yours,” she moans and arches her back. “Oh god, Dean. Yes, just like that.”
I suck her deep red button between my lips and attack. She cries out and slams her fist to the couch as her back arches. Her breaths are quick, short, her mewls growing rapid. I grab her hips and hold her prisoner as I accelerate my assault, going deep and true, winding her higher and higher as I learn her every sigh, her every shiver, her every groan of pleasure.
Then, I take her right over the edge. “Dean!”
She screams as her sweet pussy floods with her cream. I lap it up and suck for more, desperate for another taste. Only after she falls limp to the couch do I finally pull back, kissing each thigh before withdrawing and licking her from my lips.
“Oh, wow.” She wipes her brow. “That was… wow.”
I lick my lips again. “You think that was wow? Just wait until I’m inside you.”
She lifts up on her elbows. “You were just inside me.” She grins. “Well, parts of you were.”
“Not the part that counts.” I jacket her body with mine and kiss her soundly, not pulling back until she whimpers. God, how I love that sound.
“You think that’ll happen?”
“I know it will, princess.”
She snorts again, then snuggles against me. “Well that’s definitely not a nickname that’ll stick. Keep trying, Romeo.”
Challenge accepted.
Chapter Five
Bobbi
I swear to god I’m cross-eyed with need as Dean rolls off me to check the fire again, and it’s all I can do not to beg him to stay wrapped around me to keep me warm, keep me safe. The dogs watch him with intense interest as he pads across the living room floor, their tails thump
ing merrily on the rug, completely missing the fact I’m over here desperate for the man’s mouth on me again. Traitors.
Once again, I am shocked at my own brazenness. I totally was ready for Dean to take me on the couch, on the floor, on the rug—anywhere—right in front of the dogs! What in god’s name has gotten into me?
Well, not Dean Williams, dammit. At least not yet.
Frustrated, I sit up and press my knees together, looking around for my shorts. They’re clear across the room…and I’m not at all sure how that happened. I snag a blanket from the back of the couch and drag it across my knees as Dean turns around from the fire. He notices the move and his mouth lifts in a sexy half smile, his expression filled with pure masculine arrogance. I love that look. It’s the look of experience, of triumph, knowing I’m probably still dizzy from the orgasm I just had. That he just gave me. I’m not going to lie—I want more. I’m wet and aching for him to keep going and spread me with his hard flesh. From what I remember—and I remember everything from that day last summer—he was huge. I have no idea how he’s going to fit inside me and that scares me a little, but not enough to stop it from happening.
Right here, right now. In Paddy’s house.
In Paddy’s house!
I jerk upright and swivel my head, searching in every direction. If he walks in on this, he’ll kill Dean. The man may be Paddy’s favorite foreman, but he won’t be okay with Dean and me together. When he said he wanted me to settle down, I’m sure he didn’t mean with someone like Dean, a man who’s worlds beyond me in experience.
“Where’s Paddy?” I blurt.
For whatever reason, this seems to be the wrong question to ask. Dean’s face immediately shutters. “He had a trip he needed to take,” he says gruffly. He glances out the front windows, but his own expression is lined with worry. “I didn’t want him to leave in the storm, but he’s not about to start listening to anyone now.”