by Karla Doyle
“Jake…” she said, breaking the kiss. “Not yet.”
He pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes. “Any chance ‘not yet’ means ‘not until you go lock the door, Jake?’”
Light from the table lamp bounced off her hair as she shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He kissed her, sweetly this time, and extricated himself from between her legs. It was fine, all good. Until he looked down at her.
Hair fanned out on the couch, rosy cheeks and lips, glassy eyes. Nipples, still hard with arousal, pointing up at him through her t-shirt. And that band of smooth, soft skin where he’d eased her shorts down…
He bit back a groan. “I’m going to go lock the door.”
“I don’t blame you if you want to leave instead.”
“That’s not what I want. But if it was, you should blame me. You should kick my ass out and tell me not to come back. Any guy who just wants to be with you for sex is—”
“A customer.”
“An asshole not worthy of your time.”
She shrugged, but didn’t answer, then shifted to a sitting position, hugging her knees to her chest.
Shit. This night had taken a sharp turn for the worse. Not entirely his fault, but he’d played a part.
He sat beside her, unfolded her arms so he could hold her hand. “I said I wouldn’t rush you into anything and I won’t. You wanted me to stop and I stopped. That’s how it’ll always be. Or I can keep things strictly to kissing until you initiate more. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m on board.”
“You could easily have your pick from a slew of women who’d be happy to do everything you want, anytime you want. Why would you settle?”
“I’m not settling, I’m waiting.”
“I don’t know why.”
“Because I want to.” He stood, keeping hold of her soft skin until the tips of her fingers slid from his hand. “I’m going to walk over to the door now. I can lock it or let myself out. Your call.”
“Lock it,” she said, looking up at him with those gorgeous, expressive eyes.
A step in the right direction. He leaned down and framed her face in his palms. Kissed her, nice and slow. A kiss that demanded he thread his fingers through her hair, cup the back of her neck and take full control. Control she was happy to give up, based on her soft moan.
“Jake,” she whispered, coming up for air between hungry kisses.
If his cock wasn’t already stiff as a steel beam, the sound of his name in her sexy, breathless voice would do it. “Yeah, sweets?”
“Lock the door.”
“On it.” One last quick kiss, then he headed for the door, doing some necessary adjusting below the belt on the way.
She’d asked him why he was willing to wait for sex. Truth was, he didn’t have a good answer. Sex had been easy to come by since he filled out in senior year of high school. Even more so since he’d become a cop. Beautiful women were everywhere, and plenty of them liked a man in uniform—and out of it. It was almost too easy.
Candace was anything but easy.
“Do you want to pick the movie tonight?” she called, as he turned the deadbolt. “Something that’ll hold your attention more than last night’s.”
Most women hated action flicks. And raunchy guy-humor comedies. Unless he wanted to up the sexual tension to bust-a-nut levels, he’d be smart to avoid anything hot or explicit. That didn’t leave a lot of options. Certainly nothing that’d hold his attention.
He cut around the coffee table and settled on the couch beside her. “Ladies’ choice.”
“Again? Okay, if you say so.” She pointed the remote at the TV. “One three-hour tearjerker coming right up.”
He must’ve had a look of horror on his face, because she giggled while navigating the onscreen lists.
“Here we go,” she said, clicking on a movie. “Have you seen it?”
“The Green Mile, oh yeah. Great movie.” Not a chick flick by any stretch. She’d been right about the tearjerker description though. He didn’t cry over movies, ever, but he’d had one hell of a lump in his throat the first time he watched this one. “One thing though, sweets.”
“Okay…”
“Should I be worried?” he asked.
Her eyebrows drew together. “About what?”
“Your Tom Hanks fixation.”
Took her a couple seconds, but when it clicked, her laughter lit up the room. “Oh yes, you should definitely be worried. If Tom Hanks knocks on my door, you’ll have some stiff competition.”
“If it’s a competition to see who’s stiffer, I’m guaranteed to win.”
The smile on her face negated the eye roll and shaking head. She snuggled closer, reached behind her shoulders and pulled his arm tighter around her. “Are you really okay with just kissing, letting me set the pace for the rest?”
“One hundred percent,” he said, then pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I’ll try not to make you wait too long.”
“It’s not a countdown, I’m not going to tick the days off on my calendar. Stop overthinking everything and relax. When you’re ready, I’m ready. Until then,” he pulled her onto his lap, sidesaddle style, bringing them face-to-face, “it’s open season on your lips.” He drew her closer, stealing her breath as he made good on his word.
“You know,” she said, between the meshing of mouths. “I think this might be my new favorite season.”
It was definitely his.
Jake
He’d gone to Candace’s place five nights this week. Each time, he’d nodded off on her couch and woken with Candace snuggled up beside him.
The first three, she’d nudged him at the end of the movie. The last two nights, he’d woken in the pre-dawn hours to find she’d fallen asleep too, the glow from the television screen illuminating the living room enough to give him a good view of the beautiful woman snuggled against his body.
As much as he’d hated to do it, he’d woken her. Better he gave up the time with Candace than have an awkward, accidental meet-and-greet with her daughter, should the kid happen to be an early riser.
He wouldn’t complain about the awkward, choppy sleep, hell no. But it wasn’t the same as getting a solid eight in a comfortable bed. Maybe the fatigue would distract him from being horny as hell, a Candace-inspired state that wasn’t likely to subside anytime soon.
Cool water pelted him as he stepped into the shower at his apartment. The temperature helped wake him up but did zero to take his cock down. The thing was still hard from this morning’s goodbye kiss that’d ended twenty minutes ago. Fuck, that’d been hot. Sweet kissing had only lasted about two seconds before he’d pinned her to the wall and kissed his way down her neck, as far as the loose neckline of her t-shirt permitted.
It was a thin fucking t-shirt too. Pretty pink, like her nipples, which he’d had the pleasure of seeing when she’d bent over to pick up the remote during the movie. He’d barely contained his groan of appreciation.
Kissing her at the front door, he’d kept his hands on the outside of her shirt, sticking to his promise to go at her pace. Then she’d taken his wrist, slid his palm beneath the fabric, up to her breasts. So soft, so perfectly fucking full, with nipples that begged to be worshipped by his mouth. His groan had been plenty audible then.
She’d reciprocated the skin-on-skin touching. First with her hand inside his t-shirt, exploring his chest, then his abs, then lower, inside the front of his jeans. She hadn’t opened the button or taken the zipper down. Even when he’d sucked in as much breath as humanly possible, she’d only had enough space to touch the head of his cock. It’d just been her fingertips, but it’d almost done him in.
The torture hadn’t ended there. When she’d guided his hand from her tits to the front of her yoga pants—inside the front—and whispered, “I want you to touch me,” he’d thought he might still be asleep on her couch, enjoying one hell of a sexy dream. But it’d been real. Unfortunately, so had the
sound of a toilet flushing in the upstairs bathroom.
He hadn’t taken the time to give her one more kiss. Hadn’t even said goodbye, he’d just hightailed it out the door. Talk about a close call. One that could’ve ended very badly if her daughter had come downstairs before using the bathroom. Candace never would’ve forgiven herself—or him.
A raging case of blue balls was a small price to pay to ensure there’d be a next time. Until then, he had memories—and his faithful right hand—to tide him over.
He slid his fist up and down. Closed his eyes and pictured her. Lips so sweet and soft he could kiss them for hours at a time, lips he wanted around his cock. He’d slide his fingers through her golden hair, hold the back of her head, but he wouldn’t need to guide her, hell no. She’d look up at him with sex-glazed eyes while taking every inch of him. Suck him so hard he’d barely be able to hold back.
But he would hold back, because more than he wanted to be in her mouth, he wanted inside her body. Wanted to make her come, over and over, to make her feel so good she couldn’t think about anything else. Hell, she’d be past the point of thinking at all. When he’d drawn every possible orgasm from her willing, sexy body, when she physically couldn’t come one more time, then he’d let go. Fucking get lost in her.
He stroked faster, pumped his hips toward his fist, braced himself against the wall. “Fuuuck…” Thick warmth coated his fingers. Water rolled down his face, over his body, rinsing away today’s much needed release. Temporary relief until he saw Candace later—if it even lasted that long.
He washed up quickly and turned off the shower, shaking his head for reasons other than clearing the water from his hair. Maybe it was karma doing its thing, making him fall for a woman who wanted to wait to have sex, unlike the other ninety-nine percent of women he’d dated or just casually fucked. Not a problem. He could handle waiting.
Still, it was ironic. The first woman he’d had to work to get a date with, the only woman not willing to jump into the sack with him, spent her daytime hours selling her body to other men.
He’d told her it didn’t matter what she did at work, and that’d been true—to a point. True in that he wouldn’t judge her for it. True in that it wouldn’t scare him off. He’d said it didn’t matter, not that he didn’t care. He cared. Oh, hell yeah, he cared.
Every minute he spent with Candace made him care more. The only thing that prevented him from going crazy was knowing how she felt about her job. Everything she did there was an act, a lie. None of those guys truly knew her or had a place in her life. They didn’t even know her real name.
The clock on his dresser read 6:40 a.m. An entire day off ahead, giving him plenty of time to do whatever he wanted. Go back to bed for a couple hours and catch up on some sleep. Walk the Iron Horse trail with Trooper. Hit the farmer’s market for some fresh veggies and a boxful of warm, sugar-coated apple fritters. Kick back by the pool with ice-cold beer an arm’s reach away in the cooler and the ballgame on the radio.
Good ideas, all of which would be better shared with Candace. None of which could happen because weekends belonged to her daughter. A priority he had no intention of undermining, no matter how much he wanted time with her.
Understanding and accepting the weekend’s daytime limitations didn’t change the fact that he had at least fourteen hours to kill before he saw her. Kissed her. Touched her. This was going to be the longest day off ever. And not in a good way.
Candace
The reflection of her bed caught Candace’s gaze as she pulled a t-shirt over her head in front of the mirror. The pale-blue duvet and pillows hadn’t been touched since she made the bed Thursday morning. The past two nights, she’d slept downstairs, on the couch, cuddled up to Jake.
Being in his arms had felt so good. Relaxed, safe. And before they’d fallen asleep—she’d felt turned-on. Very turned-on. More than she’d thought possible while working at Lucky’s.
That kiss in the hall this morning…wow. She closed her eyes, slid her hands up her body, beneath her t-shirt, pushing her bra above her breasts so she could cup them, skin on skin. The way Jake had. His touch hadn’t ended there, though, because she’d led his hand lower, then much lower.
She hadn’t planned it, or thought she was ready to take that step, but in the moment, she’d been entirely ready. She’d been so caught up in the excitement, she hadn’t heard the toilet flushing. Jake’s ever-present, heightened awareness had saved her from traumatizing her child. Dating a cop had its advantages.
Dating a cop. Her eyes snapped open at the thought. A rosy-cheeked version of herself stared back from the glass. She and Jake were dating. Sort of. Given the circumstances stacked against them, she’d be crazy to want more than a few stolen hours on her couch. She had too much to lose to be crazy.
On the dresser, her cell phone chimed with an incoming text. A simple sound that made her heart do a little skip. She didn’t have many people in her contacts list, even less with whom she texted. The message had to be from Jake. Some quick repositioning of her clothes, some swipes and taps on the screen and there it was—a message from Jake.
Still thinking about you.
His four simple words inspired a smile she could feel all the way to her eyes.
I was just thinking about you too.
Good stuff?
Oh yes. Very, very good.
She hit send on the G-rated answer that contained R-rated subtext. A man with Jake’s intelligence, powers of observation, and flat-out sexiness wouldn’t miss the unspoken meaning in her message.
Three little dots moved in the bubble on Jake’s side of the screen. Asking for explicit details about her very good thoughts, probably. Or sharing his. After what she’d started in the hall, and the state he’d been in when he left, whatever he was typing would probably cause her phone to overheat.
You’re killing me, sweets. ;) Have a fun day with Macy. Can’t wait to hear about it later.
In her chest, her heart tumbled again. Instead of taking the bait and initiating a sexy conversation, he’d focused on her day, even though he wouldn’t be part of it. Things would undoubtedly get steamy between them later, yet he hadn’t alluded to that either. He looked forward to talking with her. Listening to her. Things that a good man and great boyfriend would want to do.
I’m taking Macy to the butterfly conservatory on Kossuth Road. We’ll be there at 10:30. It’s kind of magical there—if you’ve never been, you should go.
She held her breath and hit Send.
Since it wasn’t an outright invitation, he wouldn’t have to treat it as such. No pressure for him to accept or for her to have negative feelings if he declined. Either of those things could easily happen though, because dangling that kind of bait opened a messy can of worms. Ugh.
She couldn’t take her little fishing expedition back, but she could pull her line from the water and let him off the hook.
I have to get going. A little person requires my attention. Enjoy your day off.
Will do.
His reply popped up within seconds. A full two minutes later, no subsequent messages had appeared on Jake’s side of the conversation.
As the screen faded to black, the warm and fuzzies that’d overtaken her a couple minutes earlier faded, replaced by the cool void of disappointment. Served her right for having unrealistic expectations. For having hope about an impossible situation.
She shook her head and tucked her phone into her back pocket. It had gone silent, but the best sound in the world radiated from downstairs. She followed Macy’s blissful laughter to the living room. Sunshine streamed through the front window, bouncing off Macy’s hair where she sat cross-legged in front of the TV. A perfect little angel.
Candace didn’t need anybody else to have a great day. Today and every day, all she needed was Macy. So why did she still have that empty ache in her chest?
Jake
“Show her you understand that this invitation is a big deal by being on time. Oh, and wear a br
ight color. Attracting butterflies will earn you brownie points with her daughter.”
Those had been Megan’s suggestions when Jake called his sister for advice. Whether he should or shouldn’t go hadn’t come into question. After the initial shock that he was actively pursuing one woman, his sister had gone into cheerleader mode, assuring him he hadn’t misread Candace’s suggestion about meeting up at the butterfly place.
He sure as hell hoped Megan was right. Also, that she hadn’t been messing with him about the bright color thing. He’d find out soon enough.
A family of four entered the building ahead of him. Another half dozen people followed close behind as he stepped inside the large vestibule. Busy place, especially being outside the city and off the beaten path. Not congested or loud, though. Everybody seemed to disperse pretty quickly once they got past the admission desk.
No sign of Candace in the lobby area. She wasn’t in any of the immediate display rooms either. He checked his watch again. 10:30, bang on. He headed for the hallway that led to the conservatory’s main attraction. Candace was probably already inside, with her daughter.
His sister had been right. Meeting Candace’s little girl was a big deal, something he shouldn’t do unless he planned to do it again. Unless he was serious.
The prospect stopped him short of the doors. Dating one person, even casually, had been firmly in his “no” column a few weeks ago. After the sting from his last intense go-round in relationship territory, he’d sworn off anything more than watching beautiful women take their clothes off onstage and occasional carnal connections which expired before sunrise. Those were easy to come by. Simple and straight to the point.
The last thing he needed was another complicated relationship. Now he was involved in exactly that, minutes away from meeting his girlfriend’s kid. Yeah, this was a big deal, all right, and not just for Candace and her daughter.