by Callie Croix
She narrowed her eyes. “That was sneaky.”
With a naughty smile, Dillon guided her wrists back farther, making her spine bow, pushing her breasts outward as he placed her joined hands on top of his thighs. “Ride me, Charissa.”
That deep rasp, the obvious arousal on his face made her tremble. Leaning her weight on her bound hands, she began to rock, sliding over the hard length of his cock. Dillon sat up and placed one hand on her lower back to anchor her, his mouth closing over a hard nipple. She whimpered and swiveled faster, swamped by the pleasure tearing through her. He felt so good, but it wasn’t enough. She needed him to touch her clit. Wriggling to press the swollen nub against his body, she whimpered in frustration when she couldn’t find the contact she needed.
“Need some help, sweetness?”
He knew she did, the smug jerk. “Touch me,” she groaned, riding him hard and deep, desperately seeking that final caress that would send her over the edge.
“Where?” he asked in a low voice.
She felt like yelling at him. “My clit. Please, touch it.” Despite the edgy need flooding her body, the erotic words, the verbal surrender turned her on even more.
Dillon murmured in consent and rewarded her by lightly brushing his thumb against her throbbing clit.
“Ohh,” she whispered as the pleasure spiralled out of control. “Yes, there. More.”
He held his thumb steady, forcing her to rock and rub against him to find relief. She strained and twisted, moaning when she found just the right spot. Oh, shit, she was going to come again. She let sensation take over, guide her, as his cock stroked all the sensitive places inside her. It was so good. Just a little more...
The broad hand at her lower back drifted downward, smoothing gently over her ass before his fingers traced through the slick wetness where their bodies joined. Charissa purred in pleasure and rubbed her clit against his thumb, keeping her back arched so that he wouldn’t stop sucking her nipple. She felt his fingers glide lower, lower, to the taut bud of her anus.
A breathless gasp escaped her, but she closed her eyes and allowed her body to relax. She shivered at the decadence of what he was doing. Her hips moved faster, alternately rocking against his thumb and the caressing fingers between her buttocks. They pressed harder against her tight opening, one fingertip slipping inside. She moaned at the erotic, delicious fullness of having both entrances invaded. The tender penetration ignited new nerve endings that sizzled and sparked at his touch.
She whimpered his name and rode him faster, mindlessly going after the orgasm she craved so badly. Dillon watched her, gauging her reaction, still completely in control of himself. It catapulted her into a new realm of pleasure. He growled low in his throat and she felt the wide girth inside her clinging pussy swell. Yes. Right there. More.
A shattered cry broke free as the tension coiled tighter and tighter, centering in her pussy, her clit, the nipple he was suckling. The orgasm slammed into her, so powerful it seized her muscles as the waves tore through her. Beneath her, Dillon clamped a hand on her hip as he stilled and let the sensations flow over him. A second later his grip tightened and he drove deeper, harder, taking control of his own pleasure.
The thick muscles in his thighs bunched beneath her hands as he neared the peak, his breathing rough, head thrown back in ecstasy. “Charissa.” His strangled roar of release echoed in her ears as his cock jerked inside her. He was beautiful, primal.
She slumped forward. He caught her, quickly unclipping her wrists and gathering her tightly against his chest.
Her muscles quaked with exhaustion as she huddled in his arms. Her skin was damp, and a delicious fatigue stole through her body. After a moment, Dillon gently rolled her onto her side and kissed her before he got up to dispose of the condom.
When he came back and slid in beside her, it was the most natural thing in the world for her to wrap around him and cuddle in as close as she possibly could. A hard lump settled in her throat, the sting of tears burning beneath her eyelids. She held them back, battling the sense of vulnerability settling over her. He’d been patient and gentle, yet it felt like he’d just stripped her down to her bare essence in this bed, leaving her soul exposed, desperate for his acceptance. How was she supposed to go on without him?
Pushing the unsettling feelings aside, she concentrated on the steely muscles surrounding her, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat. She would not allow herself to spoil the moment by blurting out something she could never take back. But the words were there, crowding her throat until she thought she’d choke on them.
“You okay, sweetness?” His low murmur brushed against her hot cheek.
Not trusting her voice, she nodded and continued to cling, starving for every inch of contact between them. His reassuring embrace helped chase away the chill inside her, but not entirely. A tiny voice in her mind whispered that this was the last time she’d ever get to breathe in Dillon’s delicious scent or feel his naked skin against hers. She soaked up his affection like a dry sponge, hungry to maintain that intimate connection with him as he wrapped around her like a protective blanket.
Part of her wished she could stay like this forever. “I should get going, but I’m too tired to get in the car and drive home,” she mumbled finally, half asleep from the lull of his body heat and the way his hands smoothed over her naked back. Lying with him like this was sheer heaven. She dreaded the thought of leaving him later on, but she had no choice.
“Good,” he answered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Because I’m not ready to let you go.”
She didn’t know if he meant for now or if there was something deeper for him, but she was too tired to analyze it. Wouldn’t do her any good anyhow. As much as she wanted to stay, for them to have a shot at a future together, she couldn’t let herself think like that. Come nightfall, she’d be back in Austin, home in her lonely bed with a giant piece of her heart missing.
Chapter Six
Standing at his kitchen counter just as the first golden rays of sun touched the distant horizon, Dillon checked the call log on his phone again. The last call it showed was the one he’d made to Charissa yesterday afternoon. No incoming calls since.
She’s not going to call, dumbass.
He set it down on the counter and picked up his steaming mug of coffee, taking a bracing gulp as he tried to decide what to do about the situation. He knew Charissa had been busy with work and the renos she and her parents were finishing up at her place, but all week she’d been giving him the brush off.
It was already Saturday. Six days since she’d climbed into her car and driven back to Austin. Six days since he’d made love to her in a way that had rocked him to his foundation, then kissed her goodbye and watched her disappear from his life yet again.
A mourning dove cooed from outside in the branches of the mesquite tree that overhung the roofline. The silence in the empty house began to grate on his nerves. Normally he liked the quiet, especially in the morning, but now it just made him feel more alone. If Charissa had been here, the place would have been filled with her chatter, her laughter. Just...her.
Fuck this shit.
He grabbed his keys, stalked out the front door to his truck, and fired it up in the cool dawn air. What the hell had he been thinking, letting her take off again without setting things straight between them? Shaking his head, he headed for the lodge, passing a small group of longhorns that stopped grazing to raise their heads as he drove past, no doubt hoping for a treat he always kept in the back of the truck for them.
Sorry, guys, not today. He couldn’t get to the lodge fast enough.
He should have told Charissa point blank how he felt and what he wanted while she was in bed with him, relaxed and sated in his arms. While her damn guard was down. For fear of spoiling the moment, he’d held back. He’d thought about telling her when he walked her out to her car later, but the hint of trepidation he’d seen in her eyes stopped him cold. He’d told himself that if he gave her
some space, enough time to think, to realize what they meant to each other, she’d reach out to him.
In reality, all he’d gotten this past week when he called was excuse after lame excuse for her to get off the phone. And she hadn’t called him back. Not once.
While he understood why she was afraid to trust, the frustration was tying him in knots.
Parking at the back of the lodge, he opened the side door in time to see Ashley stumbling toward the coffee pot. Her eyes were still groggy-looking. “Mornin’, Ash.”
“Mornin’,” she replied. “You come to check on the new batch of guests due this morning?”
“Nope.” God, the last thing he cared about right now was making nice with a bunch of strangers. Guests might be the ranch’s life blood, but considering how twisted up he was over Charissa at the moment, he was better off not being around when they arrived. “Came in to tell you I’m going to be unavailable until Monday morning.”
Ashley whipped around so fast her coffee sloshed over the side of her mug. She winced and shook her scalded hand, then gave him a stunned look as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “You mean, all weekend?”
“All weekend. Dusty or Deke can handle any problems until then.” Or Dane. Hell, any of them. Let someone else shoulder the responsibilities around here for a while. He had more important things to take care of. Like convincing a certain stubborn woman he loved her and to give them a shot at a real relationship. The distance thing was an issue, but they could make it work. If they were both willing to make it work.
He wasn’t sure if Charissa was or not. But he was going to find out.
Ashley nodded, eyes wide. “Where are you going?”
“Austin,” he said over his shoulder on his way out the door. He climbed into his truck and drove down the long driveway. Someone had ripped the iron “N” off the gate again, but right now he didn’t give a fuck if it read Do-me instead of Dumen.
As he drove, he grew more pissed off. Simple fact was, he’d held back on telling Charissa how he truly felt about her because he was a pussy. He could tell himself all he wanted that he’d been afraid of scaring her off, but that didn’t change the cold, hard truth.
He’d been fucking terrified that she’d reject him again.
This distance between them was as much his fault as it was hers.
No more, he vowed as he pulled onto the highway and picked up speed. He refused to let her run and hide from this—from them—anymore. It was high time she recognized once and for all that he wasn’t anything like her sorry-ass ex and that she had nothing to hide from him, either in the bedroom or out of it. He loved her and wanted a future with her.
No way, Charissa. You’re mine.
He’d go and say his piece in person. If she was going to reject him after that, she’d have to do it straight to his face.
****
Loaded down with the French-style chandelier and other supplies she’d just bought at a home improvement store, Charissa shoved her front door open with a shoulder. “I’m back,” she called out to her dad, who had to be somewhere back in the master bedroom. “Can you give me a hand here before I drop something?” She struggled to hold everything as she crossed the threshold, already tired after a full five hours of running errands.
“Be right there,” he called back. “Just helping your mother with the last of this taping.”
Great. Meanwhile, she was going to herniate a disc holding all this stuff.
She turned in an awkward circle, looking for someplace she could safely unload everything. But there was nowhere to put it, since all the furniture was stacked in the living and dining rooms. And if she bent down to put everything on the floor, she’d drop the crystal chandelier for sure. That’s just the way her week had gone.
Her master bedroom renovation had been an unqualified disaster from day one, and today was the first day she actually thought they had a prayer of finishing the job. She was way over budget already, but at this point she didn’t much care about anything except getting it done. On top of that stress, she’d had to stay late at work every night, and then she’d finally come home to crawl onto the mattress on the living room floor to pine over Dillon.
Sex with him had been the most amazing experience she could have ever hoped for, but for her, it had been so much more than that. After what they’d shared, she’d never be able to keep her heart out of the equation. Truth was, it already belonged to him. He was so attached to the ranch, they could never make something long term work living so far apart. Better for her to let their affair die a natural death now than let it drag on and rip her to shreds when it finally ended.
He’d called her a couple of times, but she’d always been interrupted by someone at work or one of the many contractors doing demolition work earlier. Each night, she’d made excuses not to call him back, terrified he’d crush her hopes at a possible relationship by making it clear he only wanted a fuck-buddy.
She felt awful for even thinking that of him, but she was too scared to ask him for the truth. And he hadn’t volunteered anything. She couldn’t take another slice to her heart. Not from Dillon. It would kill her.
And yet...she kept thinking about the way he’d made love to her. The way he’d held her tight afterward. The way he’d kissed her so hard and deep when he’d put her into her car and made her promise to call when she got home so he wouldn’t worry. He’d called her twice every day since then, just to say hi and tell her he missed her.
She wanted to believe he missed her company as much as he missed the sex, but deep down she couldn’t. At the end of the day, talk was cheap and didn’t mean a damn thing.
The sheer bitterness of the thought momentarily took her off guard. God, was she really that cynical? Wasn’t the first time she’d wondered about that this week.
She hated the suspicious inner voice that kept spewing its poison at her, telling her not to trust, to keep a wall around her heart. Dillon had done nothing to deserve her distrust. He’d always treated her with kindness, with respect. And with a passion that made her ache at night, alone in her empty bed with nothing but the memory of his touch to hold onto. Any baggage she toted around from her last relationship was her own doing, not her ex’s. At least she could take that much responsibility.
Damn, she thought with a frown as the handles of the heavy plastic bags dug into her fingers. She was being a coward and a bitch for shutting Dillon out like this. He’d never said anything about a long term relationship, but she couldn’t go on living in fear like this. She’d have to put on her big girl panties and call him, find out once and for all if he wanted anything more than sex.
“Coming,” her dad called at last.
Jerked out of her thoughts, she shifted her grip on the heavy box and held back an irritated retort. Snapping at her father wasn’t going to make her feel any better. She had no one to be mad at but herself.
Two sets of approaching footsteps made her breathe out a sigh of relief, and she shifted around to face her parents. Her eyes widened in shock and her heart did a crazy roll when she saw Dillon in front of her father. When had he gotten here? She hadn’t seen his truck out front.
His blue eyes twinkled as he reached out and took the heavy chandelier from her arms. Her father took the bags from her pressure-numbed fingers, but she barely noticed him or his overly cheerful whistling. Gaping at Dillon, she let her eyes rove over the length of him. Dark jeans hugged his thighs and a paint-smeared navy blue T-shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders. A toolbelt hugged his lean hips.
Completely ignoring her father’s interested looks, Dillon set the chandelier down, took her face in his hands, and smiled. “Hey,” he said quietly, then kissed her, right in front of her father.
And it wasn’t a simple peck on the lips. No, this was a mark of possession, a nonverbal I’ve-missed-you-so-damn-much-and-I-don’t-care-who-knows-it kiss. It turned her to mush. Her hands curled around the hard swells of his biceps and squeezed. His spicy scent tw
ined around her. A low moan caught in her throat.
Breathless and totally aroused when he finally lifted his head, she stared up at him. He smelled delicious. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled, presumably at the shock in her voice. “Thought you could use a hand with the renos,” he said casually, his thumb trailing across her damp lower lip, “so I drove in this morning. Your dad put me to work in the master bathroom.”
Oh, God, he was sexy and handy. And he’d given up his Saturday to come all the way to Austin and help fix up her place. Not only that, he’d obviously taken the day off to do it. That surprised her the most. “What about your work at the ranch?”
“It’s all taken care of.” He dropped his hands and stepped back, still grinning. “Took me a while, but I finally figured out that actions speak louder than words with you, so here I am.”
A lump settled in her throat. For a moment, she couldn’t respond. He was right; actions did speak louder than words for her. It touched her deeply that he’d rearranged his schedule to take time out and help her. But what did it mean? A man only interested in sex wouldn’t go to all that trouble, would he? Just to get laid?
Jesus, will you stop thinking like that? “I...thank you.”
“Anytime. I’m almost done with the second coat in the bathroom if you want to come take a look.”
When she noticed her father watching them with interest as he pretended to fiddle with a picture she’d hung in the foyer, she shot him an annoyed look. Caught red-handed, he looked away and put on an innocent expression then headed back down the hallway.
With Dillon standing in her entryway, home renovations were suddenly the last thing on her mind. The thick wall around her heart began to crumble. On the deepest level, her heart already trusted him. It knew she could depend on him, count on him not to hurt her. She knew it on an intellectual level, too.
Let him in.
She wanted to. More than anything. But she still wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted from her.