Her voice on the surface sounded firm, but he could hear the undercurrents of doubt; he could see the uncertainty in her eyes, and the guilt too.
“You did the right thing,” Damon said, leaving no room for argument. “You saved your kid, Astrid. You protected him. It was absolutely the right thing to do.”
“Was it?” Her silver eyes had gone dark. “Connor cried all the way to Deep River. He was heartbroken that I’d taken him away from Aiden. He’d wanted Aiden to be his father.” She hesitated. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed. Perhaps Aiden might have changed if I’d been a better partner, and at least then Connor would have had an actual father.”
Chapter 12
Astrid wished the words back as soon as she’d said them. Those were her private doubts, her secret worries, the ones she barely admitted to herself let alone to another person. Let alone to this person.
She had to look away, unable to face him. Why on earth had she said that? It made her sound pathetic that she was making excuses for the way Aiden treated her, and she wasn’t pathetic. She wasn’t.
Damon was sitting back in his chair, his long, powerful body ostensibly relaxed, but she didn’t need to face him to feel the anger radiating off him.
“Firstly,” he said, his voice hard, “you didn’t need to be a better partner. You’re beautiful, caring, and loyal, while he’s a total asshole. Secondly, if you’d stayed, what kind of man would Connor have grown up to be with a father like him?”
The guilt sat so heavily inside her, a boulder that she carried every day. And she hadn’t realized just how heavily it sat until now. She’d told herself many times that leaving had been the only thing she could have done. So many times in fact that she’d mostly come to believe it.
But the doubt was always there, a doubt that Aiden had exploited, made deeper, wider. A doubt in herself that she’d had even growing up, that had been instilled by her reserved and distant parents, then exacerbated by Caleb’s abrupt rejection.
Doubt in herself and her choices because it had been her choices that had led her to this moment. To Cal and his passion, a warmth that her teenage self had craved so badly. To a pregnancy that had blown her world apart. To Aiden who’d hurt her. To tearing her young son away from the only father figure he’d ever had.
Five years in Deep River had gone some way to restoring her faith in herself, but now, with the past flooding back, it felt like she was back to square one. Questioning herself as a partner and a mother. Questioning everything she’d ever done…
“You’re right,” she said huskily. “I know you’re right. Leaving was the right thing to do, but…sometimes I can’t stop wondering whether I made the right choice.”
“You did.” There was no equivocation in his voice. No hesitation. No doubt. And a fierce truth burned in his blue eyes. “You want to know the kind of man Aiden would have brought Connor up to be? A copy of himself. An entitled, selfish asshole who thinks people are his property and has no respect for anyone.” Damon’s chiseled jaw was hard. “And aside from anything else, if he’d had no qualms about hurting you, then eventually he would have hurt Connor too.”
Astrid swallowed, her throat tight. “I know that. Intellectually. It’s just that there are days when I don’t feel it.”
Damon didn’t move, but the fierce light in his eyes held hers. “That’s always the way. You can think one thing, but it always takes a while for the heart to catch up. Just know that you’re a great mom, Astrid. You wanted to do the right thing by him and you did. He had a father figure for a time, but when that turned toxic, you ended it and brought him here. You protected him.”
“But if I hadn’t gotten together with Aiden—”
“You can’t think like that. You were lonely and he was there. And you thought he was on the level. It’s not your fault he turned out to be a manipulative bastard.”
Isn’t it, though? There’s always something about you that people turn against…
As if he’d picked that thought right out of her head, Damon suddenly reached across the table and put his hands over hers where they gripped her mug. His gaze held hers, mesmerizing.
“It’s not your fault, honey.” There was so much conviction in his voice and a tenderness to the endearment that she wanted to reach for him and hold on tight. “There’s nothing you should have done differently. Nothing you could have prevented. It’s all on him, not you, understand?”
“My parents were distant,” she said, her past spilling out of her whether she wanted it to or not. “They were older and I was unexpected. I think they had me more out of a sense of duty than anything else, but they weren’t warm. And I wanted warmth. I used to wonder what I’d done wrong that they didn’t like me, because it was clear they didn’t. And then Cal came along and he was…like a fire. I couldn’t resist him. Yet after I got pregnant, he didn’t want anything to do with me, and then Aiden…” She was talking too much, but she couldn’t seem to shut herself up. “I made so many stupid choices. Trusted the wrong people. Wanted the wrong things. And you know, sometimes I wonder if it’s me. That there’s something about me that turns people off.”
Damon’s thumbs stroked over her knuckles, and the warmth of his touch was like sunlight on her skin. “No. It’s not you, understand?”
“How would you know? You’ve only just met me.”
“True. But I’ve talked to people around this town and they all think you’re the best mayor they’ve ever had. That you’re tough and capable and fair and that you care about the town and the people in it. You’re loyal and you care about your son so much. I can already see that.”
Her heart swelled, pressing against her rib cage. She hadn’t known the townspeople thought that about her. The inhabitants of Deep River weren’t much given to praise. The only way you knew you were doing well was if no one complained.
Tears pricked in her eyes yet again, emotion making her throat tight. “I do care about him. But I should have told him about Cal. I should have let them meet. I was only afraid that Cal would let him down, and he’d already had his heart ripped out of his chest once by a man who didn’t deserve him.”
Damon’s fingers gripped her tighter. “You were protecting him, that’s only natural. You weren’t to know Cal was going to get himself killed in a plane crash.” The warmth in his fingers was in his voice too, and in the blue of his eyes.
He was such an understanding man. Too good to be true, she’d said, and he was. Of course, he’d clearly been uncomfortable with that, which had made her want to know why.
He’d had a daughter and lost her.
Her heart twisted painfully hard. He’d given her a piece of himself, a secret of his own and an agonizing one. And now he was giving her comfort and understanding, letting her talk selfishly about her own problems while he had his own very significant trauma to deal with.
“Damon,” she said thickly, “I shouldn’t be talking about this, not when you—”
“It’s okay,” he interrupted gently enough, and yet there was a thread of steel in his voice. “It happened a long time ago.”
He knew that she meant his daughter clearly, and it was also clear that though it might have happened years ago, he didn’t want to talk about it. Understandably.
She shouldn’t push him, but he’d mentioned her name. Ella.
Her heart twisted again, like a towel being wrung out. No, not a good thing to ask him about. She was feeling emotional anyway, and hearing about his loss might be too much. It wasn’t her grief to bear and he shouldn’t have to bear hers.
So she gave a nod and his hands dropped away, leaving her skin feeling cold.
“More tea?” she asked, even though they’d both barely drunk from their own cups.
“No, I probably should be getting back to the Moose.” His gaze lingered on her. “You okay?”
God, she liked the way he
looked at her and that he’d asked. As if her well-being mattered to him.
He’s not Aiden. And he never will be.
The knowledge settled down inside her, heavy and sure. A strange thing to be so certain of when she hadn’t known him all that long. Nevertheless, she knew it like she knew her son.
He’d carried Cal’s promise with him and he was here, making good on it. And it meant something to him. He’d put his mother’s illness to one side for a time so he could help Connor, and here he was getting secrets out of her with honesty, a calm steadiness, and a reassurance she’d never experienced before.
It made longing uncurl inside her, a familiar kind of longing.
Cal had been a flash fire, burning hot and intense before flaming out, leaving her with nothing but dead embers and ashes.
But Damon was a home fire, burning strong and steady, providing comfort and safety, and then when the flames died down, those embers would continue to provide warmth and light. His was a fire that never went out, and she wanted to sit before it, hold her hands out to it, take that heat for herself.
Really? Again? When he’s leaving soon?
But he wouldn’t be leaving today, or tomorrow, if what he said was true. And the chemistry between them was still there and still strong; she’d felt it just moments before.
Yes, she’d told herself that morning had been a one-off, but why couldn’t they have more?
She wanted that feeling again, the one she’d had in his arms in the library. Where she felt desired and precious and cared for. She wanted his fire to warm her up, chase away the cold that Aiden had left in her soul. And she wanted to give him something good in return for everything that he’d given her.
Because she had the sense that he too needed someone. He’d told her his secret, and even if he didn’t want to talk about it now, he’d still told her. And that meant something. He wanted a connection as much as she did.
Neither of them were looking for an emotional one, but perhaps a physical one could be just what they both needed. It was only sex. It didn’t have to mean anything.
“Yes, I’m okay.” She was conscious of how husky her voice had become. “You don’t have to leave, you know. You could stay.”
Heat flared in his eyes, then was gone. “If we’re talking sex, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because this was a heavy conversation that I don’t think either of us expected to have. And because you were very clear this morning that once was enough.”
That was true, she had. She’d left the library as quickly as she could, too overwhelmed by what had happened to even want to think about it.
She flushed. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t handle that very well. And I hadn’t had sex for a long time. I’m out of practice…” She stopped, feeling she was digging the hole she’d fallen into deeper. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re leaving soon anyway, so we can keep it casual and…” She swallowed, holding his gaze. “I think you need it as much as I do.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. His posture was casual, long legs outstretched, the light from the kitchen picking out the gold in the dark brown of his hair. A mountain lion sunning himself on a rock.
But blue fire flickered in his gaze.
“You said that sometimes you were a gentleman,” she went on quietly. “And sometimes you weren’t. I’d like to see you not being a gentleman for once.”
He didn’t move, but tension coiled around him suddenly. “What about Connor?”
“Connor’s asleep. And he sleeps like the dead. Nothing wakes him up.”
Electricity crackled around him and her heartbeat sped up.
“I’ll have to be gone before he wakes up.” Damon’s voice had gotten rough around the edges, abrading her nerve endings in the most delicious way. “And before anyone else sees me sneaking out of your house.”
That was definitely not a no.
“Okay.” Her mouth had gone dry, excitement fluttering in the pit of her stomach.
“Are you sure, Astrid?”
She loved that he asked, but she didn’t need him to.
“Yes.” She met his gaze, held it. Let him see the heat in her eyes.
He was so still, and for a second it was like he’d turned to stone. Then in an explosive movement, he shoved the chair back, got to his feet, and came over to where she sat. Then he reached for her, pulling her straight up out of the chair and into his arms.
Astrid didn’t hesitate or second-guess herself. She put her hands on his hard chest, lifted her chin, and let his mouth cover hers.
He tasted of hunger and the tea they’d been drinking, of heat and raw passion. She couldn’t get enough. She let him in, let the heat deepen, the kiss intensifying. His fingers slid into her hair, closing into fists.
The gentle tug on her scalp went through her like lightning.
This wasn’t gentlemanly. This wasn’t gentlemanly at all.
She loved it.
She pressed both palms to his chest, feeling hard muscle beneath the warm cotton of his shirt, kissing him deeper, fitting herself closer against him. He was hot to the touch, his body lean and long and powerful; she wanted to strip his clothes from him, run her hands all over him. He was such a work of art, and she wanted to fully appreciate him in a way she hadn’t down in the library.
Then she’d been greedy and desperate, wanting only to satisfy her hunger before putting it behind her. Now, she wanted more than that, wanted to take her time, learn him. See what gave him pleasure, what made him tick…
His fingers tightened in her hair as he lifted his mouth from hers and she made a soft protesting sound, not ready for the kiss to end. But he ignored it, holding her firmly. He wasn’t smiling, the lines of his beautiful face taut with hunger, his eyes electric.
There was nothing easygoing or charming about him now. He looked unbearably intense, almost fierce. The way he had down in the library, when she’d pushed his control to the edge.
Was this the real man underneath all that easygoing charm? If so, he was thrilling. She loved his intensity, and she loved that she’d been the one to draw it out of him.
He said nothing, letting her go only to gather her into his arms as he stood up, looking down at her. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Down at the end of the hall.” She relaxed against him. “I can walk, you know.”
“I know.”
But he didn’t put her down, striding with purpose down the hallway to her little bedroom with its queen-size bed, the handmade patchwork quilt she’d bought from Clare at the B&B, who did quilting as a hobby, thrown over the top. He kicked the door shut, then moved over to the bed, putting her down so she was sitting on the edge of the mattress.
Then he dropped to his knees in front of her.
Her pulse accelerated, her mouth going dry. They were at eye level like this, and the look in his eyes made her feel like she could hardly breathe, excitement crowding in her throat, her heartbeat loud in her head.
Damon didn’t speak. He pulled her T-shirt up and over her head, then paused a moment, studying her. So she took a moment to study him too, the perfect planes and angles of his face, the sensual curve of his mouth, the darkness of his eyelashes shot with gold.
Beautiful man. Yet there was more to him than looks and charm as she’d already discovered. There was a deep well of caring inside him, and she had the sense that he was desperate to show it, to care for someone, though perhaps he didn’t want to admit that to anyone. But she knew. She could see it in the way he’d involved himself with Connor. In the way he’d put his hands over hers in the kitchen.
In the way that he’d involved himself in the town, talking to people, helping out even though he had his own quite serious commitments back in LA.
Yes, he cared. He cared deeply.
He stared at her from beneath those ridiculously long lashes, the burning intensity of his gaze taking her breath away.
She wasn’t sure why she’d touched him or what she wanted to say—maybe that it was okay. That he could care for her son for as long as he was here. But perhaps that was too much, too soon, so she said nothing.
Then he leaned forward and kissed her, and every remaining thought she had vanished from her head.
His mouth was hot, the kiss demanding, and she gave back as good as she got. Letting him know that she was just as hungry for him as he was for her.
A sweet kiss, searing in its heat, making her open her mouth wider so he could kiss her deeper, harder. And he took complete advantage of the invitation, his tongue exploring her, tasting her, even as his hands fell to the buttons of her jeans and pulled them open.
Astrid took a breath, her hands on his shoulders before stealing around his neck, wanting to pull him closer. But he broke away all of a sudden, and before she had a chance to protest, he gripped the waistband of her jeans and pulled them down and off her, taking her panties with them. He undid her bra and pushed it off her shoulders, and when she was entirely naked, he pushed her back onto the bed.
Then he rose to his feet in a fluid, graceful movement and, keeping his attention entirely on her, began to take his own clothes off.
She made no move to cover herself, content to let him look at her. Because it was powerful to see the depth of his desire as he did so, as if he’d never seen anything more beautiful than she was in his entire life. And that made her feel beautiful too.
She rolled over onto her side, leaning on her elbow, head propped in her hand, watching him as he pulled his T-shirt off, revealing smooth, golden skin and, yes, the hard, carved muscle she’d felt beneath his shirt.
Deep River Promise Page 18