Cherished

by HELEN HARDT

  It’s a clear night, and though the miracles of the night sky aren’t as clear here as they are in the vineyards, they’re still spectacular.

  There’s such beauty in the night. In the darkness.

  I’ve always seen it.

  But darkness harbors demons as well. Demons I don’t want in my mind right now.

  Tonight is for pleasure. For lust, desire, passion.

  For love.

  Ashley walks outside and stands next to me. “So gorgeous,” she says.

  I simply nod, and then I turn to her, her lovely face illuminated by the sparkling sky. I cup her cheek, her skin like silk beneath my calloused fingertips. “So gorgeous,” I echo.

  She sighs, a soft sound that eases its way past her lips and into my soul.

  I love you.

  How I long to say the words.

  But she won’t return them. How can she, when I’ve been such a dick to her?

  Besides, if I let the utterance pass my lips, I’ll lose what little resistance I have left.

  And then all hell will break loose.

  She brings her arm upward and places her hand on my own. The warmth of her cheek and the warmth of her palm hug my hand, and the emotion that passes through me is something I’ve never felt.

  It’s love, yes. Desire, most definitely.

  But it’s something more. Something so pure I can’t define it.

  I’ll take her gently tonight. As much as I want to continue what we started that night at the Carlton—and I will—first I need to have her slowly. Carefully.

  I remove my hand, taking hers with me, as the truth dawns on me once more.

  I don’t know how to love her.

  I know how to kiss her, and I know how to fuck her.

  But those tiny reflections of affection—like holding her small hand in my own…

  I don’t know how to do any of that.

  And I don’t know how to make love to her the way I want to at this moment.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “You should go.”

  She lifts her eyebrows, her lips quirking downward into a pouty frown. Then she shakes her head. “Fine.” She turns.

  I grab her shoulder and turn her back to face me. “I don’t know how to do this, Ashley.”

  “We did pretty well before.”

  She’s right about that. But that night was borne of jealousy and lust. The love came later, afterward, when I realized the depth of my true feelings.

  That was when the monster in my soul broke his bindings and set me on this course.

  I itch to touch the soft skin of her cheek once more. I long to caress her, show her my true feelings.

  Then there’s the pure physical—the lust I can’t control. My dick is already hard inside my jeans, and all I’ve done is feather my fingers over the skin of her cheek.

  She meets my gaze. “Kiss me.”

  And without thinking another thought, I cup both her cheeks, lower my head, and take her lips.

  Not gently.

  Not the way I wanted to only moments ago.

  But fiercely, jamming my tongue into her mouth and drinking of her. Of the drug that soothes me like no other. She returns my kiss, our lips sliding together, tongues tangling. I pull her close so that only the millimeters of our clothing separate us.

  We kiss and we kiss and we kiss—

  Until she breaks free with a giggle.

  I regard her sternly.

  “It’s Penny. She’s tickling my legs.”

  My dog is dancing around us, her tail swiping over Ashley’s ankles.

  This won’t do. I love that silly mutt, but she’s not going to stop me from having what I want.

  “Let’s go in.” I grab Ashley’s arm—not gently—and lead her through the door and back into the house, shooing Penny to stay outside for a while.

  “A shame to waste such a beautiful night,” Ashley says.

  “It’s more comfortable inside.”

  She arches one eyebrow. “Since when do you think that way? Aren’t you the most comfortable outside? Among your vines?”

  I can’t deny her words, but at the moment, I’m thinking only about getting inside her, taking my pleasure, and I’m not excited about doing that on the hard wooden deck.

  I pull on her arm, again not gently, and lead her to my bedroom.

  My green comforter is crumpled on top of my bed. My bed only gets made twice a week, when the housekeeper comes. My mom used to insist I make my bed every day, but I never saw the point. I’ll just mess it up again in the evening. Once I moved to the guesthouse, I stopped that stupid chore.

  Now, for some ridiculous reason, I wish my bed were made. I don’t want Ashley to think I’m a slob.

  She doesn’t seem to notice, though. She takes the lead and pulls me into her embrace. “Tell me what you want,” she says softly.

  What a loaded question that is. I want to be free of the demons I carry. I want to cherish the woman I love without baggage. I want to give her everything she deserves.

  I want to make slow love to her. Gentle love to her.

  But that ship sailed earlier.

  I’m not capable of any of that.

  “You know exactly what I want,” I say. And though she doesn’t know the whole of what I desire and can never have, she at least knows my momentary needs.

  Her.

  I want her.

  “Tell me,” she says. “I want to hear you say it.”

  I lean down to show her—

  She backs away. “No. In words, Dale. Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

  I love you.

  Those damned words again!

  Never will they pass my lips.

  I want to kiss every inch of your beautiful body, find solace in your heart.

  I want… I want… I want…

  “You,” I finally say. “I want you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ashley

  “Will you make love to me among the vines?”

  My words surprise even me. Dale just told me he wants me, and I could be kissing him right now. Feeling his hands on my body, undressing me. His lips on my hard nipples. We could be a tangle of limbs on that messy bed of his, and I’d be in heaven.

  Why do I choose this moment to push something he’ll never agree to?

  “Not tonight,” he replies. “Tonight I take you here. In my bed.”

  In my bed. Were any more delicious words ever uttered? Especially in that red-wine voice? The color swirls around me, cloaking both of us in its darkness.

  Something dark lives in Dale. I sensed it the moment I saw him, but never was it more clear than that first night when he showed me the vineyards.

  If only he could embrace everything about himself and learn to love what’s right in front of him.

  Not me, though I want that more than anything.

  No. That person he sees in the mirror each morning. Because though he’s brilliant and talented and he knows all this, something in his sense of self is missing.

  Something inside him is broken.

  I want so much to heal that part of him. It’s not his heart, I feel certain. He’s made no bones about the fact that he’s pretty inexperienced in ways of the heart, but that’s not the issue.

  He’s broken somewhere else.

  And he’s broken deeply.

  I gaze into those mesmerizing green, symphonic eyes. So much to see in them.

  Les yeux sont le miroir de l’âme.

  The old proverb I learned long ago in French class. The eyes are the mirror of the soul.

  I see lust and desire in those green orbs, but I also see sadness. Perhaps even some hopelessness.

  I cup his stubbly cheek, let my fingertips scrape over its roughness—a roughness that seems so natural in Dale.

  “What are you thinking about?” I ask.

  I expect him to say, “fucking you,” or “nothing,” or something else that won’t tell me anything.

/>   For a while, he stays quiet as I continue to thumb his cheekbone.

  Then, “I’m thinking about how I’ll never have what I truly desire.”

  I stop my eyes from widening.

  How do I respond to such an enigmatic statement? My body is throbbing, reacting to his nearness. I drop my gaze to his crotch. The bulge is still there. He hasn’t lost his desire for me. So why open this can of worms?

  He doesn’t pester me for a reply. Good, because I don’t have one.

  Finally, I say, “Does anyone truly get what they ultimately desire in this life?”

  I’m waxing philosophical, which isn’t my intention. But it’s a valid question.

  He sighs. “I believe my parents have. At least my father.”

  “Not your mother?”

  He breaks our gaze and looks at the floor. “I believe she wants a different kind of relationship with me.”

  I slide my hand from his cheek to under his chin and nudge his head upward to meet my gaze once more. “She adores you, Dale.”

  “I know that. And I adore her. But…she always wanted us to be closer.”

  “Then be closer with her. You have that power.”

  He shakes his head. “Actually, I don’t.”

  My body is still prickling with desire for him, but I don’t want this conversation to end. I’m willing to forego the sex I yearn for if it means Dale will open up to me, which he seems on the verge of doing.

  “You do,” I say. “You have the ultimate power over who you choose to be.”

  He scoffs. “I’ve heard all that before, Ashley, and it’s not true.”

  “Of course it is.”

  He sighs and brushes my hand from his face. “You’re so young. So innocent.”

  I stop myself from guffawing. Young, sure. I’ll take it. Innocent? Not in this lifetime. You don’t grow up homeless and retain innocence for long. And sexually? I’m no innocent there, either.

  I’m not sure what to say to his comment, so I simply smile.

  “My mother and I… I don’t know why it’s the way it is. We’ve both gotten used to it over the years. I’ve talked at length to—”

  I trail a finger over his forearm. “Why did you stop so abruptly?”

  “I don’t talk about this. To anyone.”

  “You just said you’ve talked at length—”

  “Shut up!” He rakes his fingers through his mane of honey hair. “Just shut the fuck up, Ashley.”

  “But you—”

  He slams his lips down on mine. My lips are parted, and he dives in unapologetically.

  Gone is questioning Dale.

  Now he’s punishing Dale once more. This kiss is raw and angry. Oh, it’s full of desire and passion as well, but at its core, I feel rage. Red rage. Not the silky dark red of Dale’s low voice.

  This is bright red. Raging red.

  He’s angry. At me? At himself? At the world?

  My guess is all three.

  I care. I care so much, but the thought is fleeting as I melt into the kiss. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it’s angry.

  But it’s also firm and drugging and perfect in the most precious way.

  Though I’m not angry, I press into the kiss, giving as good as I get. Our tongues tangle and duel. Our lips slide together. Our teeth clash.

  The red rage merges with the burgundy that surrounds Dale always. What results is a clash of color so vibrant that it takes over my senses. Takes over my libido.

  It forces me to take the lead, and I break free from the passion to inhale a desperate breath.

  “Bed,” I say breathlessly.

  He pushes me down onto his mattress. “Take off your fucking clothes.”

  One day, I hope Dale will undress me seductively. Make love to me slowly.

  Tonight is not that night.

  Though I want to go slowly, make him wait to discover each additional inch of my flesh, I can’t. I grope at the garments binding me, releasing myself from them as quickly as I can, until I sit naked atop his bed, his green comforter cool against my bottom.

  But not for long. The fabric heats from my body, and soon I’m sitting on lava.

  Dale lowers his eyelids slightly, and a growl vibrates from him.

  I open my mouth to demand he undress as well, but then shut it quickly. I want him to stare at me, to rake his gaze over every square centimeter of me. All that I have is his, and I want him to see it.

  See all of me.

  If I could open my chest and let him look into my heart, my soul, I would.

  I lay myself bare to Dale Steel.

  I’m his. His and his alone.

  But he chooses not to take the time I wish him to. Instead, he spreads my legs, eyes my pussy with hunger in his green eyes, and then he unzips his pants and frees his cock.

  Before I can give it the adoration it deserves, it’s inside me, and Dale is pumping.

  Hard. So hard.

  I’m wet, so he slid in with ease, but my nipples ache for his attention. My clit yearns for his mouth.

  He’s still clothed, his shirt abrading my nipples with delicious friction. His pubic hair does the same for my clit, and I’m nearing a climax way before I want to.

  I can’t hold back, though. Not with Dale. He invades all my senses, and an orgasm rises almost of its own accord.

  Colors drape over me, and music swells in the background. The spicy taste of our kiss lingers on my lips, and his green eyes bore into mine.

  Is it the joyous green caroling?

  The burgundy silk of his low growls?

  The red rage of his body driving into mine?

  Everything. It’s a psychedelic kaleidoscope. A rainbow of passion.

  He thrusts and he thrusts, harder each time, his dark-red groans the torrent melody around me.

  I love you. Dale, I love you so much.

  Will I ever be able to share with him my true feelings?

  Those feelings that grow stronger every moment?

  The thought of being without him is more than I can bear. I close my eyes as the peak draws nearer.

  One more thrust against my clit—

  I erupt. Words leave my mouth and hang in the swirl of color around us. I can’t tell you what the words are. They’re jumbled phrases of lust and passion. Of want and need.

  And I take a giant leap into paradise.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dale

  Yes! I’m coming, Dale. So good! Fuck me. Fuck me harder!

  Her words ignite a hotter fire in my loins. I’m harder than ever, and I plunge into her faster and faster, letting her feed the emptiness in my soul.

  She fills me. With her beauty, her laughter, her brilliance.

  Everything about Ashley White propels me further into orgasmic bliss.

  I’ve never felt like this before. I fear I never will again.

  I hold back, making it last as long as I can. Don’t want it to end. Never want it to end.

  But her orgasm milks my cock. Squeezes against me like a fist encased in a fur-lined glove. She’s a perfect cast for me.

  And though I long to hold on… To make it last forever…

  I thrust.

  Once more.

  Then give her everything. Everything inside me. So much more than my seed. I give her my heart, my soul, my deepest darkest desires.

  And I know I’ll never be the same.

  When I finally turn onto my side, I’m still hard despite my soul-burning climax. My jeans are like a rubber band around my thighs, and I struggle out of them. I need freedom. Freedom from my clothes so I can touch all of Ashley with all of me.

  Once I remove my boots, socks, and jeans, I tackle my shirt, nearly shredding it to get it off my back.

  Then I lie next to her.

  Her eyes are closed, and she looks like an angel. Blond hair in disarray on the comforter, almost like a halo. Her cheeks are pink and her lips red. And her body—flushed all over as if painted with the petals of a red rose.

  I t
ouch her warm hand, and she entwines her fingers with mine.

  I don’t even know how to hold your hand.

  It’s easier now. Her hand, so small next to my own. I massage her thumb with mine.

  If I can learn to hold her hand, can I learn to do the rest of the stuff she wants? The rest of the stuff she deserves?

  Because she deserves everything.

  And I want it. I want it more than anything.

  Dare I hope?

  Dare I risk everything?

  She turns then and snuggles her warm body next to mine. “Mmmm,” comes from her throat.

  Something foreign cascades over me. It’s more than love, or it’s a love I’ve never felt before.

  Everything I feel for Ashley is brand-new to me, but this…

  This is something so pure… That thing I can’t describe…

  It wants to fill the emptiness inside me. It wants to bring the darkness into the light.

  But I resist.

  How can I not? I don’t know how to be the man she wants me to be.

  I don’t think I’ll ever know.

  But as she snuggles against me, and as I grow harder once again, I vow to try.

  I brought her home wanting to make real love to her, and I ended up fucking her. I let my rage take over, and I ended up taking her hard and fast.

  When a soft snore escapes the back of her throat, I smile without meaning to. She worked hard in the vineyards today, and then she had a dinner date—damn Brendan Murphy—and then a game of pool. It’s late. No wonder she’s asleep.

  Maybe in the morning.

  Maybe I’ll make love to her then.

  But I don’t.

  I end up in the vineyards.

  I leave Penny at home with Ashley. I don’t want Ashley to wake up alone.

  She sleeps soundly as I untangle myself from her body and quietly dress.

  Now I’m in my special place, where I do my best thinking.

  I lie, encased in my sleeping bag, not inside a tent but under the starlight. I memorized all the constellations decades ago, and now I see them in pictures. Images of what they’re meant to represent. Tonight, Cassiopeia stands out. The beautiful self-absorbed queen, who nearly sacrificed her own daughter to Poseidon’s sea monster and then fought with Hera, only to be banished to the sky.