Devotion (A Golden Beach Novella)

by Kim Loraine

  “Fuck. I’ve got to go, sweetheart.” Staring at the uncooked turkey, he sighed as Valerie offered a quick goodbye and hung up. Washing his hands, he shoved the roasting pan into the fridge. They’d cook it—eventually.

  ~ ~ ~

  Valerie frowned as she pulled on her boots. It didn’t feel right to be heading to her family’s house without Donovan. And since they’d gone on a call, the firefighters wouldn’t even be able to cook their meal until hours from now. Grabbing her phone, she dialed her mom.

  “Hey, honey. What’s going on?”

  “Mom. I can’t make it to Thanksgiving.”

  “What happened? Are you all right?” The worry in her mom’s voice made guilt course through Valerie.

  “I’m fine, but I need to go help out at the firehouse. They’re never going to get to eat if they’ve got to cook for themselves. Donovan was working on the turkey when they got a call. Who knows how long it will take for them to get back.”

  After a lengthy silence on her mom’s end, Valerie let out a sigh. She hoped her family would understand.

  “I understand. We’ll sure miss you. The boys will be sad they won’t see their sisters today.”

  That brought her up short. What the hell was Angie doing that she couldn’t make it to Thanksgiving? Her absolute favorite day of the year.

  “Where’s Angie?”

  “She’s not feeling well. Garrett called a few hours ago.”

  A small tendril of fear curled in her chest taking her right back to Lennon’s birthday party and the beginning of months of heartache. Shaking her head, Valerie cleared away the dark thoughts. People got sick. Not every illness heralded something as awful as what she’d experienced.

  Clearing her throat, she pushed through the anxiety. “Tell the boys I’ll stop by later, okay?”

  “All right, honey. I love you. Take care of those guys. I’m proud of you for thinking of them.”

  After hanging up, she grabbed her keys and headed to the station. In ten minutes she’d punched in the security code and was through the door and in the kitchen, turning on the oven and pulling the monstrous turkey from the fridge. Scrolling through her music, she chose her new favorite album, a bootleg copy of a live performance from a band called Sounds of Cedar. Angela had seen them play a year ago and couldn’t stop talking about them. The room filled with music and soon, she was dancing around the kitchen while prepping the side dishes for their feast.

  She heard her brothers before they came through the door. “Hello? Valerie, are you in here?” Asher’s childlike voice carried over the rumble of the other boys, both past puberty and closer to adulthood than she’d like.

  Heart swelling with pride as her whole family filled the kitchen, she had to fight off tears. “You guys. What are you doing here?”

  “Donovan is our family, too,” her dad said, setting the ham on the counter. “We’ve got more than enough, and these guys deserve a home cooked meal.”

  “They might have to go out again while we’re eating.”

  Shrugging, he jutted his chin at the oven. “We’ll keep it warm for them.”

  Her chin trembled as emotion overtook her. Flinging her arms around her father, she hugged him tight. “Thank you.”

  “Okay, let’s get going, Valerie. We’ve got a lot to do.” Her mom took control of the situation and in minutes, the kitchen was alive with workers, all taking responsibility for a dish.

  Two hours later, the house filled with the scent of roasting turkey and the sound of her family chatting easily with one anther. Valerie roamed the house, running her fingers along the row of cozy recliners the mayor had gifted the station with a year earlier. A picture of John Oliver hung on the wall next to a more recent one of Tommy Klipper, making her smile sadly. This station had seen too much loss in too short a time.

  “I swear, it’s always the deep-fried turkeys. I think they need to teach a fucking class on how not to kill yourself on Thanksgiving.” Sully’s voice boomed from down the hall, making her jump.

  They were back. Heart in her throat, she ran back toward the kitchen, wanting to surprise Donovan, but he stood in the doorway, a cocky grin on his face. “Couldn’t stand being away from me, sweetheart?”

  “Something like that.”

  The grin spread into a loving smile as he pulled her to him. “Your parents have to be upset. I thought we were having our own celebration tomorrow?”

  Gesturing to the kitchen, she laughed. “They’re all inside. We brought Thanksgiving to you.”

  His eyes widened and turned heated as he stared at her. Dropping his head, his lips found hers, tasting, burning her down to her very soul.

  “Valerie? Mom says the turkey needs to be basted.” Asher pushed through the door without caring what he was interrupting. “Oh, hey, Donovan.”

  “Okay, Ash. I’ll be there in a second.”

  Her brother turned and headed back to the kitchen without another word.

  Nuzzling her neck, Donovan pressed soft kisses behind her ear, murmuring, “We can still play with the whipped cream when I get home tomorrow, right?”

  “It’s in the fridge, waiting.”

  His hands played at the curve of her waist, the tips of his fingers curling under the hem of her light sweater. Anticipation raced through her at the sound of the rest of the guys chatting and laughing only a room away. They could walk in any minute. She should stop him. But then, he brought his lips a breath away from her ear. “I need a taste of you now.”

  She made a halfhearted attempt at pushing him away. “I’ve got to baste the turkey.”

  “Screw the turkey. Give me five minutes.” He tugged her down the hall, opening a supply closet and as soon as the door shut behind them he had her up against the wall. His fingers tangled in her hair as he dropped kisses to her neck, licking and nibbling his way up to her earlobe.

  “God, Donovan.” Her breath caught as he cupped her ass and lifted her high enough that she could wrap her legs around his hips. His erection pressed against her, right where she wanted it to be.

  “I could fuck you right here, just move these panties aside and sink deep inside.”

  That sounded good to her. Hands clutching at his shoulders, she wiggled her hips, eliciting a harsh groan from her husband.

  “I’m not stopping you.”

  He let out a shuddering breath and kissed her. His heated lips on hers sent waves of desire racing straight between her legs. How had she ever thought she could let this man go?

  When his hand cupped her breast, she thought she might just say the hell with Thanksgiving and spend the rest of the day in this closet with him. But then, breathing heavy, lust in his eyes, he pulled away and set her on her feet.

  “Just a taste. I’m not fucking you for the first time in months in a store room lit by a tiny window and filled with cleaning supplies.”

  Her husband was a damn tease. How had he developed such restraint? Flashes of a quick, angry fuck in the alley behind the Roxy theatre years ago had her clenching her thighs together. Straightening her clothes, she took a few slow breaths in an attempt to calm her rapidly beating heart. Her cheeks burned at the thought of her family, only a few doors away.

  As she reached for the door knob, he grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her around to face him one more time. His lips brushed hers, just a soft kiss that sent tingles all the way to her toes. “I love you, Valerie. Always have, always will.”

  Fighting the sudden wave of tears, she hugged him tight. “You, too.”

  Chapter 14

  Donovan fought off another yawn as he parked his jeep outside of their apartment building. Aside from the hour spent at the dinner table with the Peters family, Thanksgiving had been busy as fuck. At the moment, he could sleep for two days straight and still probably be tired. His
eyelids drooped as he rode the elevator to their floor and the damn doors almost closed in his face before he got off because he’d fallen asleep during the thirty seconds it took to ascend.

  Dammit. He wasn’t going to be any use to Valerie like this. And he’d planned to be of serious use.

  The apartment was quiet when he walked through the door and set his keys on the side table. He’d expected her to be curled up on the couch with a book and her coffee, as he usually found her on mornings when she wasn’t working. Striding to their bedroom, he stopped in the doorway as he caught sight of her. She was still asleep, her long hair fanned out on the pillow and a peaceful smile on her lips.

  God, he wanted to run his fingers through those blond locks and feel the silky-smooth strands on his skin. A shiver ran through him as he thought of the last time they’d made love. Visions of her straddling him and arching her back as she worked herself over his length assaulted him. She’d been lit only by the moon as it beamed in through the window of that bed and breakfast in North Carolina. Her hair was long enough that it brushed his thighs every time she sank down on him.

  The overwhelming exhaustion he’d carried home was suddenly non-existent as all of the blood in his body rushed to his cock. And then she rolled over with a soft sigh. The sheet slipped down, revealing a barely-there camisole.

  “Jesus,” he breathed as he took in the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric.

  Tugging his shirt over his head, he tossed it carelessly across the room as he walked to his side of the bed. He couldn’t allow himself to look at her again until he was in bed with her, or he’d jump all over her with his clothes on. As soon as the rest of his clothes were on the floor, he slipped under the covers and inhaled the scent of her hair. His chest tightened and it was all he could do not to wake her. Carefully, he slid his hand over her waist, pulling her into his chest.

  His lips brushed her shoulder as he let his fingers wander over her hip and down her bare leg. Damn. She was only wearing a pair of panties. Every night they’d slept together since he’d been home, they’d both been fully dressed in pajamas. Now, he planned to burn every last pair she owned.

  Nestling into the soft curves of her body, he listened to her rhythmic breathing and drifted to sleep comforted by her warmth—her love.

  ~ ~ ~

  Valerie stared at the sleeping form of her husband, a shiver running down her spine at the thought of all the hours he’d spent worshipping her body during their years together while she’d done the same to his. Months without making love with him had all culminated into this reunion.

  “Stop ogling the firefighter,” Donovan grumbled.

  Her cheeks flamed at the sound of his voice. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I’ve been awake the last ten minutes. You’re loud in the mornings.”

  “Oh, so I guess you don’t want leftovers?”

  His head lifted from the pillow as he cocked an eyebrow.

  “And it’s technically afternoon right now. Lunch is ready,” she said.

  “How are there leftovers? You guys left everything at the station.”

  “You know my mom. She always makes enough food to feed an army, and turkey pot pie is our favorite day-after-Thanksgiving tradition.”

  He took a deep inhale and smiled. “I thought I was dreaming about that. It smells so fucking good in here.”

  “Put some clothes on and we can eat.”

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest, doing delicious things to her. “Do I have to? We could start our own tradition. Naked day after Thanksgiving. We won’t get dressed all day. Then I can have you whenever I want.”

  Her nipples tightened at the rasp in his voice. “Tempting.”

  “You mentioned whipped cream.”

  The smile that spread her lips was involuntary. “We have it. For the pie.”

  Shaking his head, he stood and let the sheet fall off his toned body. God, he was mouthwatering. His erection standing at attention, ready for her. “I don’t want it on pie.” Gripping the hem of her shirt, he lifted the fabric over her head and hummed in approval when her breasts were bared. “I want to suck it off of these beautiful tits of yours. Then maybe I’ll let you play. Can you think of anywhere you’d like to suck on me?”

  Knees trembling, she bit her lip. “I can think of one place.”

  As he lowered his mouth to her nipple, a loud banging shook the front door. “Shit,” he muttered.

  “Who the hell is that?”

  “Sully.”

  Annoyance flared in her chest. “What? Why?”

  He bent down and placed her shirt in her hands before dressing himself. “He’s coming over to watch the game.”

  “The game?”

  Ears turning pink, he flicked a glance at her. “The Eagles game.”

  “Football? You’re not serious. There’s no football on today.”

  “When we have duty on Thanksgiving one of us records the game and hosts the next day. I forgot I volunteered months ago.”

  “You’d rather spend three hours watching a football game that already happened, than lick whipped cream off my naked body? Not to mention the things I was going to do to you?”

  A pained look crossed his face. “I can get rid of him. I couldn’t give two shits about football right now.”

  Another bang on the door had her turning her head to face the source of the noise. “No. It’s fine. Just keep in mind what you’re missing.”

  He let out a hiss of frustration as she palmed the hard bulge at his crotch and squeezed before walking away. Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself in his pants, eyes roaming the sway of her tits under the thin cotton shirt. “Sweetheart, you’re going to put on a bra, right?”

  Pulling her hair into a high ponytail, she shook her head. “Nope.”

  She heard him mutter something that sounded like, “Jesus Christ, woman.” Laughter bubbled in her chest as she answered the door.

  Sully stood at the doorway with a smirk on his face. “You know these doors aren’t soundproof, right?”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she pulled together every ounce of confidence she had and let him inside. “That’s what you get for interrupting us.”

  Sully didn’t even flinch, but when Donovan made a sound that was more of a growl than anything, the man cast slightly wary eyes in his friend’s direction. “I can . . . uh, I can leave.”

  Donovan answered first. “Yes.”

  But Valerie countered with, “No way. Donovan is so excited for the game. Besides, I’ve got a book I’m dying to read. And there’s a pumpkin pie and some whipped cream calling my name in the fridge.”

  Her husband’s gaze shot to hers. “I thought we were saving that.”

  “Oh, well, I want it now. I’m sure there will be some left.”

  Donovan raked a hand through his unruly hair and sighed. “Sully—”

  “Have a seat,” she interrupted him, having too much fun to let her husband have his way. “You want some pot pie? My mom made it.”

  Sully nodded with a shit eating grin on his face. He winked, making her pretty sure he was going to help her torture her husband. “I love leftovers. And pumpkin pie with extra whipped cream.” he rubbed his big hands together. “One of my favorites. I can’t wait.”

  As the game started, Valerie settled herself in the cozy chair she’d claimed as her own when they’d first moved in together. Draping a blanket over her legs, she opened her paperback and began reading, but in truth, she spent most of her time focused on Donovan. Her fingers played across her collarbone as she stared blankly at the pages of her book, and every time she felt his eyes on her, a slight smile found its way to her lips. At half-time, she stood and stretched, aware of her breasts pressing against the thin cotton shirt.

&nb
sp; A low growl came from the direction of her husband, sending a thrill through her. Enough that she didn’t even feel embarrassed about the show she was putting on for Sully as she padded back to the kitchen.

  “So, who are you dating these days, Sully?” she called over her shoulder.

  The man shook his head, his expression turning serious. “No one at the moment.”

  “Really? I thought you were kind of seeing Chassity?”

  Donovan’s eyebrows rose. “The one from the bar? I thought she was dating Alex.”

  “No, that’s Lauren. Chassity is her sister. They look a lot alike,” Sully muttered. “It . . . uh, didn’t work out. She went back to Michigan.”

  That was too bad. Everyone wanted to see Sully finally happy. Valerie probably knew him better than any of the other guys on Donovan’s crew. He was a good man. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out milk and whipped cream, placing them on the counter before grabbing a bag of chocolate chips.

  “I’m going to make some hot chocolate. Sully, do you want some?”

  He smiled wide and nodded. “Extra whip?”

  “Of course,” she agreed.

  Returning with two mugs piled high with the delicious treat she had planned to let Donovan taste off of her skin, she chuckled when her husband reached for the cup.

  “Oh, sorry. Did you want some?”

  A wry grin spread his mouth. “My mistake. I prefer marshmallows anyway.”

  “Is that so?” Sticking her forefinger in the spiral of fluffy cream and sugar, she made a show of licking her finger clean. “Mmm. It’s so good, though.” She scooped up another taste and held it out to Donovan. “Want a taste?”

  “You know I fucking do.” He shifted in his seat as Sully laughed unabashedly from his end of the couch. “Shut it, Sully.”

  Before she could pull back her offering, Donovan’s mouth was around her finger, sucking and raking his teeth along the skin. Tingles raced through her at the contact.