Renovation (A Golden Beach Novel)

by Loraine, Kim

  “Mrs. Mackintosh.” Donovan tipped his head at his neighbor, his ears tinged pink.

  “Donovan.”

  As he pulled Valerie down the hall, she swore she heard Mrs. Mackintosh giggling.

  At the click of the apartment door closing, he had his shirt off and she was up against the wall. His fevered kisses trailed along her neck and the exposed skin of her chest while he worked at the buttons of her silky shirt. The roughness of his fingers sent tingles through her as he freed her from the constraints of her office attire.

  He looked down her body in appreciation. “Bare legs?”

  “I don’t like pantyhose.” She shrugged. Standing there in front of him in just a bra and matching lace underwear, she should have felt exposed. Instead, she felt empowered. His eyes burned with hunger. Never had a man made her feel this important. This desired.

  He kissed his way down her body until he was kneeling in front of her.

  “I don’t think you understand how desperately I want you.”

  Her heart flipped. “Maybe you should show me.”

  He nipped at her hip with his teeth, lightly but with enough pressure for her to know he was serious. “Bed. Now.”

  Her heart fluttered nervously as he lowered her onto his unmade bed. The sheets smelled of him, spicy and clean. He stared down at her, his eyes searching, a look of vulnerability on his face.

  “Sorry, it’s kind of messy. I wasn’t planning this.”

  She lifted up onto her elbows so she could plant a kiss on his lips. “I don’t mind.” She looked down his body, her forehead creasing in a slight frown.

  “What?”

  “You have so many clothes on.”

  A smile brightened his face as she reached for his belt.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” he groaned as she pushed his pants down to his knees.

  He moved between her thighs, pressing his hips to widen the spread of her legs. A moment of terror shot through her at the memory of the last man who’d had her in this position. She tensed, breathing erratic, and her eyes went wide.

  “You okay?” His face was serious and concerned.

  She closed her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth. “Mmm hmm. Keep going.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re not really making me too confident here.”

  Panic caught her as flashes of Mick took over. The smell of Donovan, so soothing and sensual, was banished by the sickly sweet peppermint scent she associated with Mick. She felt ill. Her head spun and she pushed at the wall of muscle hovering over her, pinning her down, taking her freedom.

  “Get off me!” Her voice cracked as she shouted at him, bolting from the bed and through the door to the bathroom.

  She sat on the edge of the tub, willing herself to calm down, to breathe. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she trembled, the adrenaline finally taking its toll. A soft knock on the door caused her to jump. Donovan’s eyes, guarded and wary, stole her breath.

  “Valerie? Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head, afraid to speak. Silence was the only thing keeping the tears at bay.

  He fell to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his. “What happened?”

  A lone tear fell and she took a shuddering breath. “I . . . It was just a memory. I’m sorry. I panicked.”

  “What do you mean, a memory?” His eyes narrowed. “Did someone hurt you?”

  She chewed on her lip and averted her eyes. How could she admit to what had happened? “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m so sorry. I just felt trapped.”

  How could she explain to him her twisted relationship with Mick? She’d never told anyone, not even Grace, that Mick had been the real reason she’d left Braley.

  “It was a long time ago,” she whispered, her tears flowing freely.

  “I’ll kill him.” He wrapped her tightly in his arms, rocking her gently, and kissing her hair.

  Standing, he grabbed his robe from the hook on the bathroom door. He wrapped her in it and led her to his bed. He held her until her tears dried and her trembling eased. They both drifted off to sleep, safe in each other’s arms.

  Valerie’s eyes snapped open as awareness of her surroundings dawned on her. Donovan’s warm hand sat over her heart, nestled against her skin. She squirmed back against him, feeling his firm length press into her hip. She smiled as she heard his soft sleepy moan. Turning onto her side to face him, her eyes roamed over the expanse of his well-muscled chest and stomach. She ran her hand over his skin, feeling each taut muscle move as his awareness increased.

  A grin turned his lips up when she pushed him on his back. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” he murmured.

  “Shh.” She put a finger on his lips and sat astride him, the bewildered look on his face priceless.

  She ran playful hands down his ribs and traced his hip bones, smiling as his breath hitched. Letting the robe drop from her shoulders, she reached around to unclasp her bra.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice roughened by desire.

  “Yes. Just . . . let me be in control this first time?” She felt silly asking this beautiful man to let her take charge.

  He nodded, reaching his hands up to caress her breasts. Fire shot through her at his touch. She brazenly ground herself against his rock hard arousal, only the thin fabric of their underwear providing a barrier. He rewarded her with a groan that sent a jolt up her spine.

  “Just a minute,” she whispered, moving off him.

  “What? No.”

  She shimmied out of her panties and crawled up the bed toward him. His eyes widened as she ran her fingertips along the waistband of his boxers. He hissed out a curse when she grazed the tip of his bare erection.

  “Sweet God almighty, woman.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She pulled his swollen length free and stroked it firmly.

  He grunted and bit his lip, a clear attempt to distract himself.

  “Do you have a condom?”

  He nodded and reached into the drawer of his nightstand, producing a packet and ripping it open. Carefully, she rolled the protective barrier down his length, thankful he’d been prepared.

  She moved over him and watched his face change as she sank down onto him. Her nerves were on fire as he stretched and filled her. Then she began to move, swirling her hips and fighting the groans that rose from deep inside.

  “Kiss me.” He pulled her down to him, melding their lips as she moved atop him.

  The pressure started building as they moved together, making her shake. She moaned, needing the release, wanting him to know what he was doing to her. She whispered against his lips, “I’m close. I’m so close.”

  He nodded, his face taking on a determined expression. “Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed as he took hold of her waist and lifted her, rising up onto his knees and laying her down in one swift motion.

  “Is this okay?” he asked when she tensed.

  Panic started to push the pleasure away. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “Look at me. Look at my eyes. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She stared into his green eyes and her fear eased. Watching the emotions play across his face while he shared this intimate moment cast out the harsh memories of Mick. All she could see was Donovan.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he groaned as he pushed into her, his hips rocking smoothly back and forth. “It’s just you and me, sweetheart.”

  Pleasure coiled tightly, ready to spring at any moment. A cry of, “Oh God, Donovan,” spilled from her lips.

  She felt him tense, his breathing becoming erratic. “I can’t. Valerie. I’m coming.”

  That disjointed statement sent her spiraling over the edge. Waves crashed over her, taking he
r under.

  He lay next to her, breath still slowing from the exertion. “Wow,” he breathed.

  She laughed. “Yeah.”

  “That was . . . intense.”

  She nodded and snuggled close to him, her head nestled on his chest, his hand stroking her arm gently.

  “You know, I’m leaving Friday night for Grace’s wedding.”

  He stilled. “How long will you be gone?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Two weeks? That’s a long ass wedding.”

  She laughed. “It’s all of the pre-wedding stuff. The bachelorette party, bridesmaid luncheon . . .” She trailed off, not sure how to explain.

  “Luncheon? Sounds fancy.” He chuckled. “That’s going to suck. I just got you.”

  A warm glow settled over her. “You’ll still have me when I get back.”

  “I’d better.” He kissed her soundly, stealing her breath and sending tingles down to the juncture of her thighs.

  Without work to distract her, Valerie was alone with her thoughts for the next two days. She packed for the two-week trip back to Braley, swam until her shoulders ached, and avoided the judgment Lena was sure to hand down once she told her about Donovan.

  With eight hours left before Angela picked her up to head to the airport, she was sprawled across the couch, sinking into the deep cushions and trying desperately to get a little nap. She’d been awake half the night worrying. Donovan was on duty at the firehouse, and every time she heard a siren, her eyes popped open, and worry clawed its way into her mind. What if he got hurt? What if he died?

  She shook her head and pushed the morbid thoughts from her mind. She knew she couldn’t worry constantly. Grace had spent five years with John, the whole time he was a firefighter. She remembered vividly a conversation she’d had one day at work, years ago, when she’d brought up these exact worries. Grace had looked at her plainly and said, “I worry about him every minute he’s at work, but I push it away. It’s always there in the back of my mind. I’ll never get rid of the fear, but this is his life, his job. Without it he would be a shell of himself. I’d rather be proud of what he does than spend our lives jumping at every siren.”

  Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as she thought of Grace and all she’d lost. Her fear hadn’t been misplaced; John had died on a call and he’d died horribly. Valerie had been there for the aftermath, seen the anguish in Grace’s eyes every day, helped her pick up the shattered pieces of her life.

  A loud knock on the door made her jump so severely she bit the side of her cheek.

  “Shit. Ouch,” she muttered as she walked across the room.

  She pressed her face against the door to look out the peephole and her heart flipped at the sight of Donovan, hair rumpled, jaw covered in heavy stubble, and eyes tired. His smile was sheepish as the door opened.

  “Hiya, sweetheart.”

  “Hey yourself, hotshot.” She couldn’t keep the smile from her lips. “What are you doing here?”

  He raked a hand through his hair, attempting to tame the wayward strands. “I couldn’t let you leave without seeing you.”

  “Stalker.” She rolled her eyes in mock annoyance and gestured for him to come in.

  “Stalkers are unwanted. I’m pretty sure I know when I’m wanted, sweetheart.”

  She rose on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his, feeling the scratch of his stubble against the sensitive skin of her mouth.

  “Mmm, I missed you,” he murmured against her.

  “Me, too.”

  He snaked a hand into her hair, fingers getting stuck in the loose braid that hung down her back.

  “Take your hair down.” It was not a request.

  Blood raced through her veins as she reached behind and pulled her hair free of its binding.

  “Better.” His voice rumbled in her ear and his hand knotted in the silky strands of her golden hair.

  His lips pressed against hers, effectively banishing any fears she’d had from her mind.

  “What time are you leaving?”

  She glanced at the clock. “Six. Angela’s meeting me here for a quick dinner, then we’re heading to the airport.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “That gives us eight hours. I hope you’re done packing.”

  A heated blush raced up her cheeks at the insinuation. “I am.”

  “Good.” He pulled her ratty old Virginia Tech T-shirt over her head and moaned in appreciation at her lack of undergarments.

  “Bedroom’s this way,” she whispered, taking his hand and pulling him into the darkness of her room.

  Chapter 11

  After twelve hours of travel, including the joys of a layover at JFK, the travel-weary sisters hopped in a cab and headed for Braley. Valerie propped up her head on the cold glass of the window and dozed while the city blurred by. She dreamed of fevered kisses and rough calloused hands on her skin.

  “We’re actually in England. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you lived here and wanted to come back to boring Golden Beach.” Angela’s excited voice broke through the memories of her night with Donovan as the cab drove into the outskirts of Braley.

  Her heart swelled as she took in the familiar sights of the idyllic British town she’d lived in for over a year. She was assaulted by conflicting feelings. Pride bloomed at the appearance of buildings, beautiful and standing strong, that she and Grace were instrumental in restoring. Anxiety followed at the memories of her volatile relationship with the construction foreman, Mick, and his possessive and abusive tendencies.

  “How much longer until we get to the cottage? I can’t wait to see where you lived.”

  “It’s right around the corner,” she said as the driver turned and pulled up to the curb.

  She fished out some money to pay their cab fare and thanked the driver as Angela practically bounced out of the car.

  Grace stood on the steps of their old cottage, a beatific smile on her pretty face. The sting of tears pricked at Valerie’s eyes when she saw her friend. All her feelings rushed upon her at once, a tidal wave of frustration, unhappiness, and fear.

  “Val? What’s the matter?” Grace rushed to her, wrapping her in a fierce hug.

  She sniffed. “I’m sorry. I missed you. It’s been so shitty at work without you. Ingram fired me, he’s such a jackass. I’m just so happy to be here.”

  “Fired you? What for?”

  “I don’t really know. He just said there was too much friction. I’d been working my ass off, though.” She grabbed her garment bag and luggage while she explained the uncomfortable experience, wishing she’d just kept herself together.

  Grace’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have something else lined up?”

  “No.” The realization hit her that she had zero income and a hefty share of rent to pay soon. “No. It’s fine. I’m going to figure something out when I get back. I wanted to leave anyway. This just got me out faster.”

  Angela narrowed her eyes as she walked next to Valerie. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this. You can’t let that asshole get away with treating you like that.”

  She bristled at the thought of everyone knowing she’d been fired. “It’s fine. I’m good.” Her words came out harsher than she’d intended and a pained look flashed over her sister’s face.

  “Whatever,” Angela said, and followed Grace inside.

  The cottage was just as she remembered it; cozy, comfortable, and very English. Grace hadn’t been living in it for months, but she and Drew had made the decision to purchase it as a rental property in hopes that her family would come for extended visits.

  “Thanks for letting us stay here, Grace.” She smiled as she walked around the familiar living room, running her hands over the soft upholstery covering the couch.


  “Of course. When we bought the place, you were one of the people we were hoping would come use it.”

  Angela tromped up the stairs and shouted from Valerie’s old bedroom. “I call this room!”

  “Looks like she’s made herself at home.” Grace chuckled as she put on the kettle to make some tea.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  Angela bounded down the stairs, a wide grin lighting up her face. “This is such a great place. Val, I really don’t get why you came back home. If I could leave, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  Irritation seeped in at her sister’s words. They were so similar to each other, but sometimes Angela saw things completely differently. Valerie grinned and shrugged as she grabbed her suitcase and rolled it into Grace’s old room.

  Hefting her bag up onto the bed, she let out an unhappy sigh. She couldn’t understand why she was feeling so melancholy. She was here with her best friend, celebrating a love that defied the most complicated circumstances. She should be battling the flutters of excitement, not seeing the world through eyes tinged with sadness.

  As she hung up her bridesmaid dress, the soft murmur of voices floated in from the living room and the distinct aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the small house. She smiled at the sight of her sister and her best friend sitting at the care-worn dining table, chatting over tea.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  Angela lifted her cup to her lips and blew on the caramel-colored liquid. “Donovan.”

  Grace smiled up at her. “You didn’t say anything about dating him.”

  She tugged at the hem of her shirt uncomfortably. “It’s sort of . . . new.”

  “She hasn’t actually come out and told me yet either, but I saw him sneaking out of her apartment before I picked her up for the airport. Walk of shame. I never thought I’d see Donovan Miller do the walk of shame from any woman’s house.” Angela snickered.