First Comes Love (New Castle Book 1)

by Lydia Michaels

  “Hi. You look great.”

  “Thank you.” Let’s get a move on. “Shall we go?”

  He walked her out to the car and this time she was grateful there was no Tyson to witness the act. She’d called her mother that afternoon in an attempt to justify why she should cancel the date, but Vivian trampled every hedged excuse and barreled right into a lecture on remembering her manners. It had been an exhausting conversation.

  “Ready?” Dawson asked as he started the car.

  “You bet.”

  The club box was incredible. A balcony with a dozen plush velvet seats overlooked the field. Tall bistro tables and high-backed bar stools sprinkled the room. Fully stocked, top shelf alcohol beckoned more than the raw bar piled high with various seafood. Filet mignon kabobs, portabella mushrooms, and little puffed pastry things were served by a white gloved wait staff. Instead of the sounds of the game, the room echoed with quiet conversation and soft music.

  Dawson was polite and attentive. After obtaining a vodka tonic for himself and a much needed glass of zinfandel for her, he introduced her, one by one, to his colleagues. It was all very put on and silly. The game had yet to start, but these people might as well have been at a bar, for all they seemed to care about the sport.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, close to her ear, as she took a bite of beef from a skewer.

  She chewed and nodded, covering her mouth with her fingers. “This is nice.”

  Shifting, he met her eyes and smiled. “I’m glad you like it.” Something hid in his gaze, something she didn’t want to decipher.

  “Here, try this. They’re decadent.”

  She eyed the pastry he offered. Her hands were filled with a kabob and wine.

  “Open,” he whispered.

  She looked around and back at him to see if he was joking. Nope. Dead serious and a little creepy. He edged the pastry closer to her lips and she reflexively opened.

  “Mmm,” she said with questionable conviction. Did he think she was a helpless baby bird? Or maybe she was closer to a momma bird, because the idea of being hand fed in public made her want to regurgitate.

  When was this game starting?

  She desperately needed a distraction and decided—tonight—she was a baseball fanatic. Go team! Who’s playing?

  Holding her wine glass to her chin, she avoided any other feeding episodes. Every time he raised his fingers with a piece of food, she took a long sip. She was getting buzzed, but maybe that was for the best.

  “You have a spot of raspberry on your lip.”

  Her napkin was gone, but there were more at the bar. Turning to find one, he clasped her wrist. “Allow me.”

  Mayday! Arching back, her eyes went wide as he leaned in, brushed his lips to hers, and swept away the spot of jam with his tongue.

  His eyes were heavy as he pulled away. “Delicious.”

  “Excuse me.” She placed her glass on the table. “I have to visit the ladies room.” To throw up.

  As spacious and impressive as the box was, there weren’t many places to hide. The remainder of the evening passed in a mingling dance around the room, Dawson always in her peripheral and she always ten steps ahead, escaping before he could catch her. She never did get a chance to relax and watch the game.

  Once they were in the car, he drove with his hand on her knee again and she mentally searched for the courage to ask him to stop touching her, but the words never made it past her lips. She was completely irritated by her debilitating shyness in situations like this.

  “Would you like to come to my place for a drink?”

  “Uh,” she stalled. “I have to be up early for work in the morning.”

  He didn’t make a verbal response, but gave her knee an affectionate squeeze as he took the off exit toward Upper New Castle.

  Almost home.

  When they pulled into Kat's driveway he shut off the car and was out the door before she could say goodnight. Her door opened. “At least let me walk you to the door.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to.”

  “I insist.”

  Eyes on the ground, she pulled her house keys from her purse and inserted them in the lock. Without asking, he turned her body, and kissed her. A startled sound escaped her throat and she was pretty sure he misinterpreted as excitement.

  Firm lips pressed against hers as his hands pulled her hips. “Dawson,” she broke the kiss.

  “Katherine.” His tongue pressed into her mouth as he adjusted his stance, forcing her to take a step back. The cold door pressed against her shoulders.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Turning her face to the side, she again tried to deter him. His mouth moved to her throat in an aggressive pull of soft flesh. “Dawson—” His hand cupped her boob.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Hot breath teased her ear sending chills down her body in the most unpleasant way. “Dawson, stop—”

  “Shh…” His other hand grazed her bottom, continuing downward to the hem of her dress, which he slowly lifted.

  Okay, that’s it!

  She shifted away, but the door gave her little space to move. Her hand gripped his wrist closest to her chest. “Dawson, you have to stop.”

  Breathing heavily with booze on his breath, his gaze rested on hers, unfocused and hooded with desire. Her dress fluttered out of his grip, but his hand still cupped her breast.

  Breasts were a funny thing after having children. It took a lot of special attention to remind her that they were actually an erogenous part of the body. He might as well be fondling her elbow for the lack of skill he applied.

  “Spend the night with me, Katherine.” Boozy breath fanned her cheek. “Tell me you don’t want to. Tell me you don’t miss having a man in your bed.”

  I don’t want to. “I can’t.”

  “Come on, Katherine, you want this. I know you do.”

  “Really, Dawson,” she said, trying to sidle herself out of his hold. “I can’t. Let’s just say goodnight and not spoil the evening.”

  “You know your pussy’s wet right now.”

  Okay! Time to go home, buddy! She stopped trying to be polite, broke his hold with a stern shove of her fingers against his. “I think you’ve had too much to drink, Dawson. Go home before things end badly.”

  His stance shifted from relaxed to tense. Finally registering that he wasn’t getting anything from her, he shot her a derisive sneer. “You know, if you’re going to play the chaste virgin, you probably shouldn’t talk about your kid so much.” He looked in her eyes and enunciated, “Mom.”

  She stiffened. “Wow, drunk and an asshole. Goodnight, Mr. Price.” Turning, she grabbed for the doorknob as he swatted her wrist away and roughly pushed her against the cold surface, his larger body pinning her in place. She gasped, heart thundering as her brain tried to process what the hell was happening.

  Twisting her wrist behind her back at sharp angle, her eyes watered. “Smart mouth for such a prude. You think you’re better than me, Katherine?” The cramped position had her chin angled uncomfortably, her breasts crushed against the door. His grip tightened, forcing her to whimper and rise to her toes. “What makes you so fucking special, huh?”

  He jerked her and a panicked sound left her throat. Scream. Scream! “I’ll scream,” she threatened in a weak voice.

  He snaked his other arm between the door and her abdomen. “No you won’t.” The material of her dress bunched in his fist.

  This is not happening! Tears blurred her vision. She opened her mouth to scream, but all that escaped was a croaked plea, “Stop.”

  He roughly squeezed her thigh and she cried, fearing how far he would take this. Her neck twisted, eyes searching through the blurred darkness for Tyson’s house. The windows were pitch black. No car in the driveway. Without Tyson there, true terror took over and she began to violently shake.

  “You’re not special. You’re the opposite of special. Your own family doesn’t even want you. Your mother practically was sel
ling you off to the highest bidder.”

  Words slipped out in a panicked sob, “Please stop—”

  “Shut up!” Her face jostled against the door as he shoved her. “I would’ve been nice to you, Katherine. But on second thought, what do I need with someone else’s damaged goods? You’re probably as loose as an old glove anyway.”

  Something broke inside of her. He was going to do whatever he wanted and her mother would continue to plead for his time. Maybe Vivian knew this was the sort of man he was and thought this was what she deserved. Done, she swallowed back her hurt and let her anger free.

  Gritting her teeth, she growled, “Fuck. You.” Her elbow jabbed into his side with as much force as she could muster. The shock was enough for him to slacken his grip on her wrist. Twisting, she shoved him with both hands knocking him back a step. “Don’t touch me!”

  Pivoting, she frantically jammed her key still hanging in the lock all the way over. The door opened and her purse slipped out of her hand. Ignoring the spilled bag, she rushed into her home and slammed the door, immediately twisting the deadbolt into place. “Get off my property before I call the police!” she shouted over her roaring heartbeat. Her ribs rattled like wind chimes she was trembling so fiercely.

  “You’re a fucking charity case,” he yelled. “Your mom’s better off campaigning pedigrees. I’m out of here.”

  Shutting her eyes, she pressed her forehead to the door. Lights glinted across the windows as tires squealed.

  I hope you crash.

  Positive he was gone, she unlatched the door with trembling fingers and scooped up her spilled belongings. Her teary eyes continuously searched for Tyson, but he wasn’t there.

  Shutting the door, she relocked it, and turned off the porch lights. Her back slid down the wall until she landed on the floor, her entire body convulsing with adrenaline.

  Her mind refused to replay her evening as if unconsciously defending her sanity. Soft prattles of raindrops hitting the windows captured her attention as thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. The glass flashed white as lightening streaked the sky and she flinched.

  Numb, she forced her body off the floor and stared out the window. Wind whistled against the glass as her flag out front wildly flapped, snapping tight like a sail. Hand on the knob, she unlocked the deadbolt and she stepped onto the porch. A gust of wind tore through her yard, chilling her thighs as her dress whipped in the breeze.

  She turned to the left. He still wasn’t there. Hair twirled and took flight around her face as she eased into the rocking chair. The vacant chair beside her creaked and rocked on its own as wind chimes sang chaotically in the distance and soft drops fattened and pelted the leaves. The sky rumbled like a stampede of horses racing on the clouds.

  She shut her eyes and breathed in the damp scent of hot, spring rain. The storm was a comfort. Its strength and power a reminder that there was always something bigger out there, bigger than her, bigger than the bullies.

  A glow bloomed at the corner as Tyson’s headlights sliced through the puddles as he pulled slowly down the street, bringing a sense of calm she desperately needed. Her skin tingled as chills crested her shoulders and understanding took shape. She loved him. It was that simple.

  She stood, but he wouldn’t see her through the rain. Opening the door to her house, she reached a hand in and quickly flicked on the porch light. He was standing by his car, in the rain, looking right at her. Time stood still as his presence grounded her.

  Her chest lifted as her breath quickened. Stepping into the storm, the sopping ground splashed her bare legs as her clothing dampened and her body shivered.

  Tyson.

  The mere thought of him, his scent, his strength, his voice jerked her body into motion as she shot into a dead run. “Tyson!”

  Water doused her hair and saturated the thin material of her dress. Time moved in slow motion. The sky lit above as a bang of thunder rent the air.

  Her name echoed over the roar of pouring rain as he raced toward her. “Kat?” She heard the worry in his voice, saw the panic in his step, but her voice could only form one word.

  “Tyson!” She barreled toward him, propelling off the ground at the last second as she crashed into his strong hold. Lifting her feet off the wet ground, she locked her legs around his waist as her slick arms wrapped tight around his neck and she sealed her lips to his. He was so warm. She sobbed against his mouth, never before more grateful to see him.

  “Are you okay?” He frantically brushed her wet hair away from her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she cried, kissing down his jaw.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “Dawson. He’s such a jerk. I should have never went out with him.”

  His body tensed. Wedging his fingers under her arms, he eased her away from his chest. She blinked as hard drops stung her face. Those full lashes lining his eyes spiked, so long tiny droplets clung to the edge of each point like a diamond. His eyes searched her face. “What happened?”

  Shaking her head, her voice challenged the pounding rain. “I want you, Tyson. I just want you.”

  His nostrils flared as something possessive flashed in his dark eyes. Jerking her chest to his, his mouth crashed down on hers. She kissed him with everything she had, gave him all of her passion, showed him every bit of her desire.

  His hands gripped her ass, anchoring her to his body as his arousal dug into her sex and she ground her body against his. Breaking the kiss, he held her tight and walked quickly through the rain. It was louder beneath her porch, drops pelting the gutters and beating on the roof.

  He pivoted and his lips were on her again. He lowered her to sit on the banister and stepped into the space between her thighs. His mouth worked from the corner of her lips, down the column of her throat. He paid homage to that sweet spot at the curve of her shoulder and licked along the wing of her collarbone before losing himself in the valley of her breasts.

  The strap over her dress was yanked down her arm. Her wet clothing peeled back from her skin. She shivered as his heated mouth closed over the tip of her tight nipple. She arched back and moaned.

  Open palmed fingers splayed against her spine as his other hand twisted in her hair. Teeth scraped to her jaw in a soft bite, nibbled, driving her crazy with those teasing kisses as his hand shifted to her breast.

  His mouth found hers as she linked her hands behind his neck. The bulge of his arousal settled directly against her sex as he rocked forward. Tight waves of heat pulled low in her body as the friction built. His hips snapped forward, harder and faster. Pressure built. Teeth nibbled. Fingers pinched and plucked and suddenly she broke, without even penetrating her he had her coming.

  His brow pressed to her chest as his breath beat against her damp flesh. “That’s it, kitten. I got you. Give over to me.”

  Trembling, chills raced over her wet skin as the muscles in her calves slowly unlocked. His mouth found hers as he kissed her deeply, his touch gentled. Hands coasted over her body, soothing and lightly petting. The scent of Tyson and damp earth filled her lungs as he tenderly pulled away and looked into her eyes.

  She reached for the top of her dress twisted around her ribs.

  “Leave it.” Pulling her head to his shoulder, he kissed the top of her hair. Fingers trailed down her spine as his heartbeat pounded in her ear. “Tell me why he’s a jerk.”

  She didn’t want to think about how rough her night had actually been. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  A grunt rumbled in his throat, but he didn’t press her on the subject. He held her in silence as the rain slowed to a gentle prattle.

  “I’m not very good at this,” she admitted. “I’m probably going to mess up again.”

  “Sometimes things take more than one try, Kat. But if it’s worth having and you want it bad enough, you don’t stop trying until you get it right.”

  “I want to keep trying.”

  He kissed her temple. “I’m glad, kitten.”

  She sh
ut her eyes and curled deeper into the warmth of his chest. “What happens now?”

  He sighed. “Well, if I’d known this was going to happen, I would’ve planned my week differently.”

  She eased back and looked at him. “What does that mean?”

  “I have to go to Washington tomorrow to break ground on a job. I won’t be back until late Friday night.”

  Disappointment flooded her. “Oh.”

  “But you can call me.”

  She smiled. “You’ll have to give me your phone number. What kind of job is it?”

  “A client’s having a second home built. We just finalized the paperwork last week.”

  “Will you be going there a lot?” She just got him and didn’t want to let him go.

  “On and off. More so in the beginning and the end, but I’ll assign a foreman to oversee most of it. But we’ll have the weekends.”

  Her gaze met his. “Then maybe we should start thinking about that date you promised.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  After a long week of jitters and anticipation, Saturday was finally here. As Kat, Mia, and Jade turned the corner the sound of a lawnmower had her heart jumping into overdrive. Jade sent her a sidelong glance.

  “Momma, Tyson’s back!” Mia cheered. “Hi, Tyson!”

  The mower silenced as they paused at the edge of his property. He wore work boots, jeans, and a bandana—but no shirt. Removing his canvas gloves, he clapped them against his thigh and smiled, stealing her breath. Snippets of grass misted in his wake as he sauntered toward them. “Hello, ladies.”

  Pent up tension eased in a rush as she met his gaze. God, she’d missed him. “Hi.” It was difficult not to throw her arms around him, but she had to be mindful of Mia.

  “We went to a birthday party!” Mia said by way of greeting.

  “Did you?” He crouched to her level. “And whose birthday was it?”

  “Dr. Stevens’. I made the cake!”

  “Oh, well then, I bet it was delicious. Did you save me a piece?”

  Mia looked at Kat and she shook her head. “We forgot,” Mia apologized.