"Always." He pulled her until she tumbled next to him on the bed. Moments later, she got the first wish—his body over hers.
Hot breath against her skin created shivers of desire. Daniel slid a finger under one of the straps on her bra, moving it away from her shoulder, before anointing the area with tender kisses. She murmured a sigh of pleasure when his tongue swept across the swell of her breast. Need pulsed through her veins stronger than anything she'd ever felt before. So good. She writhed under his skilled touch, wanting more…so much more. .
"Mmm….oh yes…there…" followed by gasps and other incoherent sounds, apparently the only words she could string together as he moved slowly down her body, lavishing unparalleled attention on every inch.
"I want to be better." Daniel whispered as he reached behind her and unclasped her bra, removing the garment to join the others on the floor.
His words made her blink rapidly, trying to focus. "Better? Better than whom?"
His mouth closed around a pebbled tip, making her gasp.
He is better. Better than anyone… "This is better…"
His teeth grazed the tips, sending shards of pleasure slicing through her body.
"So. Much. Better." She could barely speak, her words more of a husky whisper.
Daniel's inactivity left her no choice but to force her eyes, weighted heavy with need, open. The crystal blue color of his eyes, now dark and intense, was trained completely on her. "I want to be better—want us to be better—than all the love scenes you've read in those books."
He might possibly be the sweetest man she'd ever met. She cupped his cheek with her hand. "Don't go too sweet on me. I like a little spice, remember? The books are great, but you…" Her hand slid down to his granite chest, her nails lightly scraping the golden skin. "You are the real thing."
Maybe the most "real" man she'd ever met. No hiding who he was or, more importantly, his motives. She didn't want to think anymore—only feel. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled his lower body closer. His impressive arousal twitched impatiently between their bodies, deepening and intensifying the ache between her legs. If she didn't get relief soon…
Raking long nails across his back rewarded her with a low moan and a nip at the swell of her breast. "And all those love scenes pale in comparison to you."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet, darlin'." This time, she didn't mind the arrogance. So far, he'd earned every right to brag on his bedroom prowess.
The words from countless love scenes she'd read flashed across her mind before vanishing under Daniel's expert touch. His mouth blazed a path of fire lower and lower.
He's trying to kill me.
No wonder he only needs one night. The women never live to experience a second night. "Daniel, please…"
Daniel's body slid up hers until their mouths clashed. His tongue demanded entrance, cutting off any further verbal comment. She held his body as close as possible, her legs locking behind his hips, rocking against silken steel, inviting him to finish what he'd started.
He tore away from the kiss, his breath shallow and fast. "Ready?"
She arched her body and rocked against him again, "For what feels like hours now."
The arrogant grin covered his face—she didn't even care. He'd earned it. "I've been ready for days, woman."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
She held him close, the welcome weight of a lover resting fully in her arms once again. His body was nothing short of perfect. Sculpted, tanned, and currently all hers. A Greek Adonis inviting her to this sweet escape.
"That was incredible." She danced her fingertips along the smooth line of his back, continuing the intimacy of the moment. Maybe one night would be acceptable, as long as the night never ended. She wanted to somehow thank him for such a wonderful gift. For his promise of wanting more than a one-night stand, even if she wasn't sure either could follow through. Distance proved a powerful force in any relationship. Maybe they could connect every few months for a weekend or something until they knew whether their hearts could allow them both the happiness they deserved.
Evelyn taunted her from the time-out corner she'd put her in after their last conversation, reminding her of why she'd chosen Tom. "…you only chose him because he was away most of the time." Was that true? Did she only want a relationship with a man who wouldn't be around all the time? Damn Evelyn for finding her way into even the most private of her moments.
"You're welcome, and you're right. It was incredible. Just as I'd imagined." Soft kisses roused her from her thoughts. "You okay?"
Melodie held him tight, trying not to think about how perfectly their bodies fit together. She kissed him gently. "Better than okay. Thank you again for…well, for everything."
The cocky grin returned. "I'd say the pleasure was all mine, but…"
The Hallmark moment ruined, she pushed him off her body, smiling as she made her way to the bathroom. "But I had a little too."
"Little? Woman, were you paying attention at all?" A very unladylike and unusual squeal slipped out of her mouth as Daniel tackled her from behind, picking her up and twirling her around.
Feeling sexy, desirable and, yes, maybe a little like the heroine in a romance novel who had just secured the bad boy, she wiggled her hips against him. "Apparently not enough. Maybe you'll have to demonstrate for me again."
Rough, work-hewn hands cupped her breasts as he held her close, arousing and warming her all over again. "I'm sure that can be arranged. Since someone kept me up all last night, maybe a little sleep is in order first?"
She turned in his embrace, trying to keep the surprise off her face. "Are you asking to spend the night?"
The cocky expression morphed for only a second into a look of vulnerability before a composed, neutral expression settled over his cheekbones and stubbled chin. "If you're not comfortable with that…"
She shook her head. "No. I mean yes. Wait…" she took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is I'd like you to stay." His ability to render me speechless continues. Gotta work on that.
"Can I order a pizza? I'm starving."
The grin returned, and she was certain there was a hint of relief in his tone. "Veggie?"
"Ugh, you've got to be kidding? Half veggie, half meat lovers?"
Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. "Deal. You make the call. I'm gonna grab a shower."
"I'll make the call and then join you in the shower."
Humming a few bars of "Sweet Dreams," she turned on the water—hot. Her body would be sore from the paces Daniel put her through and, she held hope deep in her tattered heart, there would be plenty more activity still to come. The hot water beaded on her skin, reminding her of Daniel's ardent touch. The cool whoosh of air created goose bumps all over her body, but they disappeared the moment Daniel's body surrounded hers. She closed her eyes. Maybe all of this was too good to be true. Or maybe this time she'd finally find her little slice of happiness.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Daniel roused from sleep. Melodie was standing at the sliding glass doors, staring off into space. Silently, he applauded her ability to even stand. After pizza and another vigorous round of lovemaking, he didn't even have the energy to move. He couldn't stop smiling as he thought about how magnificent Melodie looked above him, her breasts swaying freely as she rode him—hard. He refused to think too far ahead, but he damn well liked this woman more than anyone else he'd met in a very long time—if ever.
With her standing there in nothing but his T-shirt and pink, silk boy shorts, Daniel's need for her resurfaced. I may never get enough of this woman.
Not wanting to waste one moment of their time together, he crept quietly out of bed and moved in behind her, his arms circling her waist. "Hey, sexy, you up for another round?"
As he kissed her cheek, instead of the fresh clean scent he'd become accustomed to, there was a hint of salt and dampness. Tears? What the hell? "What's wrong?"
Her hands pulled him closer as she sank into his
embrace. "There's something I haven't told you."
Just when he thought it was safe… "Come on. Let's go back to bed. We'll talk. You can tell me anything." Her soft bottom pressed against his groin made talking the last thing he wanted to do, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
He followed her back to bed and tried not to focus on her bare legs sliding under the sheet. Behave! He didn't want her to kick him out and send him skulking back to his room in the wee hours of the morning. He tried not to think of the number of times he'd sent a woman packing from his room in the middle of the night. Turning the light on the nightstand to the lowest level, he slipped in next to her, pulling her close. His arm went around her shoulders to offer comfort. "Tell me, Mel. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."
"His name was Tom."
She made her statement as if those four words would allow him to decipher and fix whatever was upsetting her. He'd known lots of Toms in his life, none of which he could remember making him cry. He had no clue what to say. "Go on. I'm listening."
"He was my best friend. We understood each other. He always thought Evelyn was too good to be true and stood up for me against my mother. He was a good man." She smiled faintly. "We'd even made a pact to marry at age thirty if we were both still single."
He might not be a librarian or college graduate, but even he recognized the past tense. He ignored the little detail about her marriage plans. "You keep saying was. What happened to him?"
"He made me feel safe, secure, and content. Evelyn says I only chose him because he was away most of the time. Maybe she was right. I don't know. I do know he didn't deserve what happened to him."
The haunted look he'd seen in her eyes numerous times since their first chance meeting on the plane returned. This man, Tom, whatever happened to him, must be responsible for the sadness in her eyes. His protective instincts surged, and he felt compelled, driven even, to make this better. Once she tells me what in the hell happened to him. Did women always take this long to share? Up to this point, he'd only cared about pretending to listen long enough to get into their bed. The clouded green eyes from his sexy librarian changed all of that for him.
"What happened to him?" He felt like a broken record, but maybe if he kept asking, eventually she'd tell him.
"He was killed."
His muscles tightened, and his nostrils flared. He'd seen so much death in Afghanistan—so much senseless death. A war being waged by politicians saddled with the high cost of human life. To think this man had been murdered on American soil, outside of war, fueled his rage at the injustice. "Did they catch the bastard?"
The confusion in her eyes deepened. "What?"
"The person who murdered him."
Tears escaped down her cheeks again before she buried her face in his shoulder. Why did women do that? Didn't they know it rendered the male species unable to think clearly? A few drops of water sliding down rosy cheeks reduced every goal in their lives down to one. Fix whatever's wrong, and make it better so she stops crying.
"He wasn't murdered. He was killed in action in Afghanistan."
Afghanistan brought his mind into sharp focus. He may have not known her Tom, but he knew plenty of men like him. He fought to stop the trembling of his body. Breathe, dammit. Had someone snuck into his little slice of heaven and punched him in the gut? He fought the strong desire to jump out of the warmth of the bed and pace. His questions now expelled in rapid fire. "What happened to Tom? How was he killed?"
If his harsh tone insulted Melodie, she offered no comment. "His convoy was on an errand of mercy, delivering food and supplies to a village hit hard in an attack. The lead vehicle, Tom's vehicle, hit one of those bombs buried in the road…an IBD or something?"
The blows to his gut continued with each innocent word she spoke. Guilt squeezed his heart so tightly radiating pain shot down his left arm. Heart attack? "IED. Improvised explosive device."
"Yes, that's it. Sorry. I couldn't bring myself to do any research on the subject, too upsetting."
He wanted to say something to comfort her, reassure her. Something! But the words wouldn't come. His throat filled with sand, scratching every surface. He squeezed her tighter in reassurance, hoping to God it would be enough.
Her body moved in closer as she slipped farther under the covers. The tension she'd been holding slowly left her limbs, allowing her body to relax. "My heart hurts less now that you're in my life. I know it sounds crazy, but somehow you've eased the pain."
His eyes closed when her face lifted to kiss him. He couldn't open them—couldn't let her see the torment. Couldn't take a chance the guilt in his eyes would prompt the return of the haunted look he'd noticed the first time they met. Instead, he focused on her soft, sweet lips against his. He squeezed his eyes even tighter, concentrating on exactly how she felt in his arms
As her body relaxed against his, the tightness in his chest limited his ability to breathe. Not only had he seen death in Afghanistan, but he'd had a front row seat to the mayhem. Wanting to block the painful memories, he forced the air slowly in and out of his lungs. Her delicate scent calmed the racing of his heart, allowing him to compartmentalize the negative emotions threatening to consume him. In and out. Focus on each breath. It wasn't his fault.
Too bad he couldn't make himself believe that, no matter how hard he tried.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tuesday
Bacon. The hickory smoke flavor filled the air along with the blissful aroma of coffee. Her stomach rumbled, demanding attention. "Daniel?"
"Room service just arrived. Hungry?"
She sat up. The white-covered table boasted a crystal vase with a single red rose. Straight out of a romance novel. Even better than the rose were two plates heaping with the ultimate representation of a Southern hospitality breakfast. Her meal included bacon, eggs, hash browns, biscuits, even grits and gravy. She'd never had grits and gravy, but there'd been lots of things she'd tried in the last day or so that were new. So far, so good. "I'm starving. Someone worked up quite an appetite in me last night."
Grabbing his T-shirt—his chest looked even better uncovered—she slipped it on and moved to the table. "No breakfast in bed I guess?" She smiled at the hurt look on his handsome face. "I'm teasing, relax."
His fingers combing through her hair delivered shivers of delight careening down her spine, almost making her forget how hungry she was. Almost.
"If you'd like to crawl back into bed, I'll be happy to serve you. Something tells me we'd skip right to dessert."
As a distraction, she plucked a warm piece of bacon from the plate and bit off a decent amount. "Mmm. As delicious as dessert sounds, I need to eat something to keep my strength up. Sit. Eat."
Soft, coffee-tasting lips covered hers momentarily, ceasing the enjoyment of her bacon. The gentleness of the kiss was distinctly different from the passion they'd shared in the early hours of the morning. She couldn't put her finger on the difference exactly, which reminded her of the pending "how to read people" research. His fingers trailed softly along her cheek and down her throat. Warmth. Gentleness.
"Yes ma'am. Let's eat."
The food tasted better than anything she'd eaten since arriving in the great state of Texas. Maybe her stomach was adjusting to the southwest spices infused in every meal. Maybe my heart is starting to heal. After another sip of coffee, she consumed enough food and caffeine to carry on meaningful conversation. "Thank you again for your understanding in the wee hours of the morning. I've been working through my grief and thought I had it under control." She paused, unsure of how much she could say without revealing how hard she'd fallen for him. "Anyway, thanks for listening. What are your plans for today?"
He shrugged and pushed the food on his plate around some more. "Not a problem. As to my plans, I'm not sure."
"What's wrong? You've barely eaten anything."
His face lifted, blue eyes entering her line of vision. Her stomach clenched as recognition dawned. The ice blue eyes di
splayed the familiar haunted look she'd caught in her own reflection at times. The bacon and biscuits started flip-flopping in her stomach. Did he regret being with her? Had her middle-of-the-night confession changed his mind about her? "Daniel? Please tell me what's wrong."
The table jarred at his abrupt rise from the chair. "I don't want to."
In direct opposition to his movement, her slow rise allowed her hands to grip the edge tightly, a concerted effort to control the trembling—from fear? "I shared intimate details from my heart last night. You can tell me anything. I know about your ex and your mistress—your womanizing ways. Can't be much else to shock me, right?" The pitch of her voice rose with each phrase, amplifying the fear that last night was too good to be true.
"Men, probably a lot like your Tom, died in Afghanistan. Died because of me."
The free fall into the deep end finished with her heart hitting the concrete at the bottom hard, crushing her chest and making it difficult to breathe. The violent shaking of her head confirmed her adamant denial. "What do you mean? You and Tom were on the same side. How could you possibly be responsible for the death of an American soldier?" She'd heard the term friendly fire before but couldn't imagine Daniel, even at his worst, making a mistake and shooting the wrong person.
"After I retired from the military, I worked for a while as a civilian contractor. Because of my familiarity with the terrain, my job included leading both military and civilian personnel through any number of missions. Humanitarian convoys, like you mentioned with Tom, or strategic ops to gain intel. Really, anything my employer ordered. Once a soldier, always a soldier."
With each word, the beating of her heart gained momentum. She forced thoughts of Tom to the back of her mind. It was evident Daniel was suffering. He'd helped her through the pain last night. She would do the same for him. "Tell me what happened. I may not be able to fully understand, but sometimes talking things out is good for you. Telling you about what happened to Tom last night proved very therapeutic for me. Let me do the same for you."
More Than One Night Page 8