A Touch of Passion (boxed set romance bundle)

by Uvi Poznansky

He pinched the inside of her wrist, and her knees buckled. The door opened, and Dax urged her down the hall to her apartment, his hand at her lower back, right above her ass. They had to stop for a few mad kisses at the sofa, not able to go so far without melding their mouths. She tugged at his shorts, and he lifted them from the couch, not setting her down until they reached her door.

  She unlocked it and they fell inside, him on top of her. He scooted them down so he could shut the door with his foot.

  His mouth claimed hers in rapture, his tongue hot and ready. His touch amped her desire to incredible heights.

  She put her hands on his shoulders as he kissed her so hard her back ground into the carpet runner in the hall. She nipped his lip, then sucked it into her mouth. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

  Passion surged through her body, lighting each nerve on fire.

  Dax buried his hand in her hair, massaging her scalp as he closed his eyes and caught his breath. “We are making love,” he said, not looking away.

  “Yes, Dax,” she agreed with a small laugh. She pressed her breasts into his chest, and he leaned up, skimming his hand up her dress to bring it over her head. He didn’t seem to notice the extra little bit at her middle, or even care, he was intent on her mouth. On her breasts and the clasp of her bra.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said, cherishing her, feasting on her with his eyes before he lowered his mouth. He clasped one nipple and Celia thought she might die, or at least orgasm, before they ever got to the sex part. He tongued her other nipple, kneading the one he’d left. “Beautiful.”

  “You are,” she said, tugging off his shirt and then tracing from his bellybutton down to the thick shaft demanding freedom from his shorts. “I want you, Dax. No jokes.”

  He buried his face in her neck, kissing the soft skin up to her ear, where he nipped the lobe. Blood rushed to her lower belly and she flipped him over, so she was on top.

  At last, she felt the length of him against her center. “Bedroom?” she breathed out, pressing down so that he was aligned perfectly.

  “No time,” he panted. “Condom?”

  “I,” she pressed down harder, enjoying each wave of feeling as it built toward the crescendo. “Hurry, Dax.”

  “Wait,” Dax said, gently shifting her to the side. “Wait.” His breathing was heavy, coming in rough drags. He pulled a foil package from his wallet. “Thank God. This gives me a fighting chance.”

  “What?”

  “Bedroom.” He pulled her to her feet, though she felt weak with need. “I don’t want our first time to be in your damn hallway.”

  Celia knew that she would want him in all ways, all the time, and didn’t really care. She let him lead her down to her room, where he pulled back the covers.

  She didn’t mind being without her dress and she quickly ditched her panties. Reaching for Dax, she helped him out of his shorts, kissing his body as she tugged the fabric down. She cupped him, running her hand up his length.

  Tearing the wrapper with his teeth, he sheathed himself, then nudged her back on the mattress. “Now, Celia, I will show you what it means to be loved.”

  Loved? The word frightened her, but she pushed the fear away. It had no place in bed with her and Dax. She was in the moment, living for today.

  She lay back, offering herself to him even as she gave him everything, body and soul.

  He leaned down, accepting the gift and giving one in return. He used his lips, his tongue, his hands and his hips to show her what was real.

  “Dax,” Celia cried as he finally entered her slick passage. Tremors built from within, threatening to topple her. She’d never felt like this. She grabbed his shoulders, holding on. Caressing his back. He still wasn’t close enough! He thrust once, twice, and ignited the inner fire that combusted them both. They held each other until the quakes quieted.

  “Celia,” Dax whispered, leaning his forehead to hers.

  He filled her completely. She kept her eyes closed, absorbing the new feelings she’d just experienced. They were each bathed in hard-earned sweat, but she didn’t care about that at all.

  “You’re mine,” he said.

  Celia, fighting hard against the fear inside her, that she wasn’t strong enough on her own, swallowed her answer.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning, Celia woke before Dax, who slept with his arm flung out across the pillow. She stretched beneath the covers, lightly touching his hair as she put together her emotions after a night filled with not just sex, but yes, making love. She shouldn’t have been afraid. Fear made people prisoners.

  She heard a noise. The sound was muffled, and she slid from the bed going in search of the source. Barefoot, she slipped into the robe she kept by her bedroom door and went to the hallway.

  Ringing. She saw the carpet runner askew and picked up her dress, which had been tossed aside in their urgency. She looked in her purse, also by the front door, and found her phone. Nothing. Not even a missed call.

  There it was again. She opened the door of her condo and looked out into the carpeted hallway of the building. The elevator bank was at the far end, and to the right of that a neighbor she’d never met.

  There! His phone had fallen by the sofa. She remembered what they’d been doing there and a delicious tingle started between her legs, making her blush all over again.

  She quickly ran down the hall, holding her robe together at the neck. It barely hit her upper thighs. She bent down for the phone just as Matthew came out of the elevator.

  Now her cheeks hurt, raging with embarrassment. “Morning,” she said, holding the robe closed, Dax’s phone in her hand.

  “Morning, Ms. Langford. Sorry to bother you.”

  “It’s okay,” Celia said, getting over herself and realizing that something was off in the guard’s demeanor. She was set to wake up at five, and her alarm hadn’t gone off yet, which meant that Dax’s phone was ringing before five in the morning.

  Her toes curled against the carpet as she waited for Matthew to say something else.

  “Is Dax with you?” he asked, his expression sad.

  “Yes.” No, no. Nothing good ever came of phone calls in the predawn.

  “It’s his dad.” Matthew confirmed her worst fears. “They had to take Dave to the hospital.”

  Oh God. Celia swallowed, feeling the air around her grow heavy. But this was not her time to be weak. She had to be strong for Dax.

  “Give me ten minutes,” Celia said. “We’ll be right down. Any details?”

  “No,” the guard answered in a low voice. “Veronica, a friend of Dave’s, called. She knew you lived here, but not which condo. She said they are at Holy Family.”

  Celia nodded. “I’ll, we will be right down.”

  How could she handle her business from the hospital room? She’d made quiche yesterday, and there were plenty of croissants and muffins. Coffee, tea. It would take her fifteen minutes to open. She could get Dax to the hospital, get Teresa to run the register, and be back to help Dax.

  People mattered more than things. More than food. More than a business. Last night Dax had shown her his heart, and she couldn’t help but respond in kind.

  She went back inside, to her bedroom, and put her hand on Dax’s forehead. She kissed his nose, his lips. “Wake up,” she whispered as gently as she knew how.

  His eyes fluttered open. He saw her, and his gaze brightened. “I was afraid I was dreaming.” He clutched her and rolled her over on the bed.

  “No dream, but Dax, honey, your dad is in the hospital.”

  He pulled back as if her skin burned him. “What?”

  “We need to get dressed. Holy Family. Veronica is there, and I don’t know anything else.” She handed him his phone, and leaned over him to switch on the light.

  “Is he...”

  Her heart, so open and vulnerable to Dax, clenched with pain. “I don’t know anything.”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “I’ll go with you,”
Celia said, slipping off the bed and hurrying for a change of clothes.

  “No. You can’t come.”

  “Why not?”

  Dax squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I, this is between me and my dad. You can’t come. Besides, you have a business to run. You keep telling me how important that is to you.”

  Ouch. That had been before they’d connected so well last night, but he was hurting, so Celia put aside her ego and listened to her intuition. He needed her.

  “I will go with you, just to see that everything is...how it should be.”

  His shoulders, so tight, suddenly broke, and she went to him immediately. She surrounded him with all of the inner strength she could. He cried as if it was the first time he’d had anybody to hold him in his grief, and it broke Celia’s heart.

  “I am here for you, Dax. Let me help you, for once.”

  ❋

  Dax absorbed the empathy and compassion coming from Celia as if he were a dried out sea sponge, and she the nourishing rain. When he could think again, he pushed away from her and walked into the adjoining bathroom to wash his face and rinse his mouth.

  “Shower, if you want,” she called from the bedroom. “Towels are on the shelf.”

  He stared at the running water in the sink, his brain refusing to work properly.

  She came in and started the water in the standup shower stall, eighties style with glass doors and aluminum rails. “It will only take a minute, and give you the strength for what might be a long day.”

  “I can’t.”

  Celia pushed him toward the shower and shut the door. “A minute. I’ll be ready when you are.”

  Dax forced himself under the warm spray, lifting his face to the soft barrage. His dad’s illness was something he’d dealt with, at an arm’s length away. He handled what needed to be done, following his father’s wishes as best as he could.

  His dad did not want a fuss made.

  What else was Dax supposed to do? He rubbed his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose. The water woke him up, prodded him to think. What needed to be done?

  Celia could not be part of the equation. He had to be strong, without emotion, and she made him feel everything.

  By the time he turned the water off, he had a plan. He dried off and dressed, a machine. Celia met him in the hall, a to-go mug of steaming coffee in her hand. She had the keys to his jeep in the other.

  “Ready? I can drive, if you want.”

  “No, thanks. Listen, I’ve got this. I’ll call you from the hospital.”

  Her expression froze. “Dax, I’ll set things up so I can spend most of the morning with you. I want to.”

  “I’m not trying to be an asshole, here, but I don’t want you to come. This is for family. Me, Darcy and Dad.”

  He knew he hurt her, but it had to be this way, if he was going to make it through the damn day. He took the keys, made sure he had his cell phone, and waved at her from the door. “I’ll call.”

  He left and he half expected to hear the cup of coffee she’d made for him against the door, or maybe tossed at the back of his head.

  Like he’d earned. He felt like shit about it, but he hardened his heart.

  He left the lone cardboard box against her Prius and drove to the hospital. Matthew waved him off, but Dax didn’t stay to chit chat.

  He entered the emergency room at the hospital. Veronica, dressed in flannel pajamas she’d obviously borrowed from his dad, waited by the sliding glass doors, her face tearstained and worried.

  She flew at him, and he put his arms around her shaking shoulders. “We were watching TV, eating watermelon. I was drinking tea, for heaven’s sake,” she said in a voice thick with tears.

  Her accent was more difficult for him to understand, but he got the gist. They’d been at home.

  He reached deep, searching for his Zen. “It’s all right. Where is he, now?” He walked them toward the check-in desk.

  It must’ve been a slow night at the ER, because a petite doctor in her early thirties came out just as he finished the paperwork.

  “Dax Smith?”

  “Yes.” He waited, smiled, shook the woman’s hand. Dead? Alive? Gotta call Darcy.

  “Your dad had a mild heart attack but is resting now.”

  Relief sped through his veins.

  “It seems he’s been having them for the last month. He’s very fortunate that this young woman was there to call the ambulance.” The doc reached out to pat Veronica’s arm.

  “The last month? How is that possible?” Dax crossed his arms, remembering his dad not feeling well, but getting better after the oxygen.

  “Because of the prior lung infection, he was used to symptoms of heartburn, and shortness of breath. This attack came with pain and numbness.”

  “He didn’t sound right,” Veronica said. “I called 911.”

  Immense gratitude threatened his composure. “Thank you, Veronica. I owe you.”

  She sniffed. “This makes me miss my Umberto, Dax. I am ready to go home.”

  “Your flight leaves today?”

  “At noon.”

  “I will take you,” he said, automatically.

  “You will not,” she said, offended. “I have a limo service.”

  Despite the somber mood, all three of them laughed. Veronica peeled away to use her phone, leaving Dax with the doctor. “Can I see him?”

  “Sure. He’s sleeping from the meds, but follow me.”

  “My sister is out of town,” he said over the ache in his throat. “Will Dad be coming home?” Or was it time to fess up and call her?

  “Because of the cancer, you mean?” The doctor pushed her way through two sets of automatic doors.

  “Yeah. I just, I don’t know what to expect.”

  “Your father’s body is weak due to the cancer.” She read the chart and met his eyes. “The refused chemo has made him vulnerable. But it seems he has made his choice, to live out the rest of his life on his terms.”

  “Yeah,” Dax said, his throat husky. “Kind of stubborn about it, actually.”

  She patted his arm. “You didn’t ask my advice, but I suggest allowing him the dignity to die how he wants.”

  “He went to South Beach earlier today,” he confessed, feeling guilty that he hadn’t locked his dad in the house.

  The doctor grinned. “Living in the moment is good. I’ve had terminally ill patients go parasailing.”

  Dax ducked his head, peeking into the room. His dad looked frail. Like a child in too big of a bed. “Don’t suggest it, okay?”

  “Have you been to family grief counseling? Church helps for some, but this is a tough time, no matter what you do. I’d call your sister. My educated guess from the x-rays is that the cancer is spreading, fast.”

  “Christmas? We were thinking he’d be okay through the holidays,” Dax said, feeling panic rise.

  “You never know,” she said, but her eyes told him another story.

  The world fell out from beneath him. “Thanks, Doctor.” He went inside the room and held his father’s hand. The bones were visible beneath the thin layer of skin. Veins protruded, and he smelled ill. Dying.

  He bowed his head over his dad’s body and prayed for the strength to make it through, for Darcy’s sake. For his dad’s sake.

  Then he called his sister.

  She answered on the third ring. “Dax? What’s wrong?”

  “Darcy, it’s Dad. He’s had a heart attack, but he’s sleeping now.” Dax swallowed as he looked at his dad’s drawn face, feeling sick to his stomach though his words were calm. “Comfortably. Don’t drive, Darc. Can you have your boyfriend drive you? Or maybe you could fly?”

  “The boyfriend was a douche bag of major proportions, and is no longer in my life. I’m coming home, right now, Dax. I can drive.” She started to cry, the soft sounds of fear and grief tearing at Dax’s heart.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Driving while emotional wasn’t safe.

  “I’m coming
home. I mean it, Dax. I was going to call you, anyway. How bad is it?”

  “Don’t speed or anything.”

  Did hours matter when months, or maybe less, was all they had? If the cancer didn’t kill him, his heart might.

  “I’ll be careful. It’s four thirty now. I’ll be there by noon.”

  “With all of your stuff?”

  “I told you, things haven’t been so great here.”

  He rubbed his hand down his face, tugging at his chin. “Okay. I’m at Holy Family. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Celia went to work, determined not to take Dax’s rejection personally, but damn it, it hurt. She’d borrowed a cart from Matthew, promising to return it later that day, and carried her cardboard box she had yet to assemble for a table and chairs set.

  She was no handyman, but she would figure it out.

  Unlocking the door to the café, Celia breathed in the savory herbs. Rosemary, sage. Cilantro lent a sweeter scent to the air. Baskets of lemons were splashes of color along the shelves, but also provided another fragrant layer.

  This was her dream come true, and all she wanted was to go to the hospital to be with Dax.

  He’d made it clear that he thought she would just be in the way.

  She dragged the table set inside, and flipped on the back lights so she could see. She brewed tea, and turned on the oven to preheat. She’d make a potato and leek casserole to send over to Dax’s house. It was nourishing without being overwhelming in flavor. Dave would like it.

  She’d made it for the kids at the center, after learning the recipe from one of the mothers.

  Crying for Dave, Dax, and especially Darcy, who didn’t understand yet the severity of her dad’s illness, she set to work putting the table and chairs together. By six thirty when she opened, she’d washed her face and put on make-up to cover the worst of the blotchy spots on her cheeks.

  Khanti was her first customer at quarter to seven. “I love the new table outside,” she said.

  Celia forced a chatty tone. “There was supposed to be four, but you know, South Beach.”