She shook her head; his palm against her cheek seemed to steady her. “No.”
He smoothed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Yes, I do. Usually, we’re still arguing in my head, but most of the time, you win.”
She eased away, those crystal-blue-green eyes cutting into him. Through him. “I win?”
“What can I say? You’re smarter than me.”
“Bullshit.” She said it with zero conviction.
“You say the sweetest things.”
“No, I don’t. It’s been too long since I’ve even wanted to say anything sweet.”
“Me, too. Now I wish I could recite you poetry.” He kissed her shoulder, inhaled her warmth. “It wouldn’t do you justice.”
“You’re an asshole.” She said it softly, like an endearment.
He took more hope from it. “Hey, you came looking for the asshole.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to do anything stupid and give Marfa a bad name.”
He traced the line on her back where fabric ended and her skin began, that open space he’d yearned to kiss all night. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Dylan….”
The sound of his name from her mouth made him hungry for a taste. Before she could say anything else, he pressed his lips to hers. The best way to keep her quiet. The best way to really find out what she wanted.
Her body gave her away. Her nails against his face opened, her palm to his cheek. Her lips parted, her tongue soft and warm. He cursed the awkward angle in which he sat until she shifted back, looped an arm around his neck and her knees grazed his belly.
He held them there; the contact of her skin against his hand stole his breath. More. He followed her long legs beneath the chiffon, up to her thighs. Too soon. He forced himself to caress lower, behind her knees. Above the fabric, to her waist, that delicious oasis on her back. God, he wanted to taste her. Everywhere. Once he started, he might not be able to stop, so he held back. But if he stopped kissing her, he was afraid she’d run away.
She eased her leg up and over his waist and twisted up to straddle him. Her teeth grazed his ear. “Come on, Frat Boy,” she whispered, unbuckling his belt. “Fuck me.”
The invitation he’d been waiting for. But something about the way she said it made him grab her hand, working his zipper. Beneath the tough exterior, he saw her vulnerability.
“No, Clarissa. I don’t want a quick fuck. I want you. All of you.” He kissed her slow and hard. “I want to kiss every inch of you. Savor every touch.” At the small of her back, his fingers found the top of her zipper, and he drew it down. Holding her gaze, he hooked the lace straps under her shoulders and tugged, slowly revealing her breasts.
A test of his will. He wanted to toss the dress up over her head, but there’d have been no stopping then. He stayed true to his word, teasing her nipple with his tongue. When he suckled, she caught her breath and threw her head back, her fingers entwined in his hair.
He had to have more. More skin, more of her. All of her.
When she worked his buttons loose, he slipped out of his shirt. She held him tight, her breasts pressed against his chest. Driving him wild.
This time, when she reached for his zipper, he didn’t stop her. He trailed kisses anywhere his lips could reach—her arm, her shoulder, her neck—and together they managed to remove his slacks. Before he knew it, he was helping her lift the dress up, leaving her only wearing panties. So incredibly sexy. He couldn’t stop touching her, everywhere—running his hands down her back, up her thigh, teasing down the front of her pale pink undies.
She breathed hard against his ear. “Now will you fuck me?”
Oh yeah. This wasn’t where he’d wanted to make love the first time, in a field. She deserved a bed of silken flower petals, not brittle grass. At the very least, soft sheets. He tucked his suit jacket beneath her the best he could as he laid her down.
“Clarissa—”
She grabbed his head, hooked her leg around his, and kissed him. The power of that kiss swept him up like a tsunami, tossed him under the depths of the sea and he rolled with it. All night long.
***
The afterglow. Clarissa had never experienced it before and wouldn’t admit to it now. She wasn’t convinced it wasn’t partly shock. I just fucked Frat Boy. And wanted to again. Right after they stopped cuddling.
“Those stars are so amazing,” he said. “Makes a nice backdrop anyway, huh?”
To match his moony expression? “It’s part of what make Marfa so unique.”
“I know. I’ve never seen a sky full of stars like that before.”
“Marfa’s gotten to you.” Shit; Dylan had wedding fever. She’d never have believed it if she hadn’t seen it. Too bad when he goes back to Pittsburgh, he’ll feel nothing except relief that I had enough sense to kick him out. “We should get back.”
“Not yet. You still haven’t told me the real reason you left home. Or the story behind your tattoos.”
She’d never told anyone before. But then, no one had asked. “Why do you want to know?”
“I just do. Now tell me. What do these symbols mean?” He touched her shoulder blade.
Fine. She’d unleash the whole sob story, a sure way to get him to back off. “They’re Japanese Kanji symbols. Spirit, Wolf, and Eagle. I wanted them on my back so I could draw great strength from knowing that the three of them are always behind me.”
Not so much as a flinch. Only an accepting nod. “And do you?”
“Yes. Whenever I need them, I feel them.”
“When was the last time you needed them?”
She didn’t have to think hard. “The night I met you.”
Weirdly, his furrowed blow complemented his smile. “Why?”
Bewildered? Seriously? “Um, you thought I was a stripper, for one.”
“Only because you’re so beautiful.” He traced his finger along her collarbone.
She pushed his arm away. “Too late for flimsy excuses.”
His grin never wavered. He leaned in close, lips moving against her ear. “It’s true.”
The husky tone of his whisper sent electricity through her bloodstream, but it calmed when he eased away to look at her. Oh God, too serious. She knew what he’d do next—hold her closer. Kiss her. Slow and probing, a kiss that asked nothing of her except to enjoy it. A kiss that reached deep inside, its warmth diffusing through her like tiny fireworks. She liked the way her body felt under his touch. The way he explored, took his time with each kiss and nip and lick, like she was something precious. Something to be savored.
She tried to let herself go with it, not rush it. Normally, she’d straddle him and rock until they both ended up a sweaty, panting mess. Then she’d leave.
She didn’t want to tonight. “Let’s go to my place.”
“Really?”
Every alarm bell went off in her head. Yes, really? She never took guys there. Never. But she wanted to hold him as long as she could. “My bed’s lumpy but not as hard as this ground.”
“Let’s go.” He jumped up and tugged her to a stand.
“You’re a pushover, Frat Boy.”
He already had his slacks up, buckling his belt. He flashed her a smile. “Only for you. Here, put this on.” He reached down and helped her into her dress. “Now let’s go before you change your mind.” He swatted her rear. “I’ll follow you. We’ll continue our earlier, uh, conversation.”
Oh yeah. That, and much more.
“Don’t get lost.” But already, he seemed less of a lost soul. Probably because of his business turmoil. All his frustration had built up, and he’d turned to her. He’d turn away again soon enough.
“No chance.” His unbuttoned shirt flapped when he hopped over the seat into the convertible.
On the drive back to Marfa, she gripped the wheel. Why did I go looking for him? He’d have left tomorrow, and life would have gone back to normal. No, not normal. Everything had changed. Her reality had shifted. It would have
whether Amy and Jeff had gotten married or not. God, I have wedding fever. The primal instinct to pair off had kicked in without her realizing it, and she’d succumbed. Or been suckered.
He feels good, argued her conscience. Let it play out.
Moments after she’d turned in the single-lane, unpaved alleyway curving behind the cottage, she climbed out and waited on the patio by the sliding glass door. Two seconds later, Dylan bounded up to her. In the soft glow of the solar lights, the puppyish look on his face was unmistakable.
She stepped inside and tossed her keys on the table. “Don’t get all moony-eyed.” Talking to yourself again, Clarissa?
He stole behind her, wrapped his arms around her. “Who, me?”
She shivered at the movement of his lips against her ear and pressed against him. “It’s only wedding fever. I’ve seen it before.” In myself.
His hold slackened, and his chuckle held no humor. “Exactly why I didn’t want to bring anyone with me.”
So that’s why he’d come alone? She broke from his grasp and opened the fridge. “I wondered. So you left your girlfriend at home.” Her teeth ground together. Shit. He has a girlfriend, you idiot.
Beside her, he peered into the fridge. “Not really a girlfriend. We dated off and on for a while. And we broke it off a few weeks ago. Any milk?”
She handed him the half gallon of soy milk and wondered how long it had been in there. “So you wouldn’t have to bring her?” She pointed to the cabinet. “Glasses are in there.”
The blinking light on her answering machine caught her attention. Amy might need something; she’d check it in a minute.
He took out a small one and poured, then returned the jug to the fridge. “Of course not. The relationship went stagnant. We both knew we couldn’t take it any further.”
“Did you love her?”
“No.” He sipped the soy milk.
No wince. No complaint. Good. And good answer. “Excuse me, I have to check this message. It’s rare for anyone to leave one.” A press of the button, and her mother’s agitated voice said, “Clarissa. Stop avoiding me.”
Delete. The best way to deal with her.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Clarissa inhaled a cleansing breath, and released the instant anxiety. “Yes.”
He drained half the glass. “What about you; when’s the last time you were in love?”
“I don’t think I ever have been.”
He jerked his head. “Never?”
“Have you? I mean, in true love?”
“I guess not.” He set the glass on the counter and took her in his arms. “Not yet.”
Why oh why had she brought him here? When he kissed her, she remembered. It wiped away the last bit of tension with a sweep of pure bliss. Things that felt this good were usually illegal.
He peered past her. “So where’s this lumpy bed anyway?”
“In the loft.”
“Take me there.” He nuzzled her neck. “Or here. Anywhere.”
Any corny comeback in her mind vanished. She held him so tight when she kissed him, she almost forgot to lead him to the ladder. Already, he felt familiar in her arms. And wonderful.
“After you.” He gestured with a wicked smile and then nipped her ass while she climbed up.
Her laugh came out in a squeal. “You’ll get yours.” She couldn’t wait to give it to him, either, and climbed faster.
When he fell atop her and covered her in kisses, she cradled him tight. He was right; the stars did make an amazing background. She might not be able to sleep in this loft again without thinking of this night. She might not be able to face those stars without wishing for him.
***
Mistake. Clarissa knew that sleeping with Dylan would be. The. Hugest. Mistake.
Not because she hadn’t enjoyed it. Fucking him only made her want him more. If he’d haunted her thoughts before, now it was full-on possession. He flowed in her blood. Every movement brought back another memory of his touch.
No, not fucking. They’d made love. Complete with emotions. Real feelings. She’d wanted to please him, wanted him to feel as good as he made her feel. Not simply show off. She knew guys thought her good in bed. Last night had nothing to do with mere physical release. She and Dylan had forged a real connection.
Now he’s leaving. Fuck fuck fuck!
Perfect timing. Wait until the night before his flight. She hadn’t asked him about his return flight. There seemed no reason to. He had a life in Pittsburgh. Family, coworkers, a job—no, a business. One he’d built. She couldn’t compete with all that.
Panicked, she’d hurried out while he slept. Hopped in her car and drove without any destination in mind.
She should follow Amy’s advice. Get away for a while. Too much in her life had come unsettled. Before the sun set on another day, she had to settle at least one.
She drove out to the airport and parked beside J. D.’s pickup. It took a minute to pluck up the gumption to get out, go inside, and face him. She didn’t quite close the car door because he’d hear it. He already saw your car, idiot.
Still, she lingered near the hangar entrance a moment, watching him putter around the glider. If he noticed her, he gave no indication. “Hey. Got a minute?”
He stayed focus on adjusting whatever inside the cockpit. “I’m kind of busy.”
“I’ll make it fast.”
A sigh. “What’s up?”
The cold shoulder. She could break through it. “You haven’t been to the café in a while. I wanted to be sure you were all right.”
“I’m hunky-dory.”
Real convincing. “I wanted to apologize….” For what?
“No need for you to be sorry.”
“I am, though. I miss you.”
His steely-gray eyes cut into her.
Damn. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him again. “Besides Amy, you’re my best friend. Or were.”
“I’m not the type who can stand idly by while someone does something stupid.”
“It’s not stupid for me.”
“You’re in love with him?” He shook his head in disgust.
Too soon for that. Too soon to label it at all. “Whatever I am, J. D., it has nothing to do with you and me.”
Another hard glare said otherwise.
Better cut to the chase. “You’re a great guy, J. D. And you mean a lot to me. But if you want to pretend like I don’t exist, I’ll respect that.”
He climbed out and dusted off his jeans. “It’s not what I want. I needed some time to figure things out.”
She nodded. “I understand. And if I did anything to hurt you, I’m so sorry.”
He hung his head. “You didn’t. I did it to myself.”
Then why did guilt still weigh on her? “But you and Vonnie are doing great, right?”
The old J. D. finally looked at her, no anger, no jealousy. “She’s a fine woman. You were right.”
“Guess we both were.” J. D. never made a fuss about any of the guys she’d dated. He seemed to have sensed something about Dylan from the first.
“The café still closed?”
“Till next week. I’m thinking about taking a trip. Getting away for a while.” Like everyone else.
“Probably do you good.”
A little extra breathing space would probably be good for him as well. “So. See you around?”
He gave her his standard you-got-it-little-lady nod. So much strength and integrity in one small gesture. “Count on it.”
She would. Not in the same way she used to. As she got back into her car, she knew they’d never have the same close friendship and she would take precautions against taking advantage of him in any way. But knowing he still cared meant a lot.
Dust clouded behind her car on the drive to the highway. At the T-stop, she hesitated. If only she could let go of Dylan as easily as she had J. D. Imagining him still in her loft, she gripped the steering wheel tighter. Everything in her wanted to craw
l into bed beside him, hold him until the last possible moment.
It would only make things worse.
What if he gives me the brush-off when I get home? She couldn’t bear it, that awkward moment where neither one knew the right thing to say. She’d easily survived it with other guys. But she hadn’t cared about them.
I can’t face him. She checked the gas gauge—three-quarters full. Enough to take a drive somewhere. Anywhere.
She needed time to think and headed away from Marfa. A few puffy white clouds floated in the wide-open sky, the road so long it gave the illusion she hadn’t moved at all, though the engine purred and the wind brushed through her hair.
You’re not in love with him. Of course not. It was too soon to think about any of that. Three weeks ago, Dylan Wall was a stranger, some guy who Jeff had befriended in college.
The question was: who would he turn out to be tomorrow?
***
Dylan woke up in the yurt. Disappointment settled over him as it had yesterday. He dressed and drove to the Blue Moon Café. Still closed, no sign of life. Jeff and Amy were long gone on their honeymoon.
But where’s Clarissa? He walked around the side path to her cottage and knocked. No answer, and no sound from within. He went to the back patio and peered in the back door. Everything looked as it had when he’d left yesterday, after waiting for hours for her to return. Shit. Why didn’t I get her cell number?
She probably didn’t have one. Her and her freaking bohemian lifestyle. Cute until moments like this.
Would it do any good to wait again? Not likely. Clarissa obviously needed some space. He couldn’t bring himself to leave town, hoping to catch sight of her. He visited a few galleries, picked up a newspaper at the bookstore. Still no Clarissa.
If she wanted to find him, she would. After one final glance up and down the street, he drove back to El Cosmico.
He checked his phone, checked his reservation for tomorrow afternoon. He’d put it off as long as he could, but now had to get back to the grind. Yeah, he loved his business. Why wouldn’t he? He’d started with nothing and sacrificed everything to build an innovative firm that attracted big-name brands. And interested buyers. He had offers at least once a year. He’d turned down the last bid, but the buyer never withdrew his offer, said he’d let it stand so Dylan could think about it. He hadn’t considered it seriously till now.
A Wedding at the Blue Moon Cafe Page 12