by Joanne Rock
But it was true. The service had saved his ass and given him a sense of purpose when he’d wanted to go Rambo on Stephanie’s captors.
“Can I ask one more question before I leave you to play your guitar in peace?” She peered up at him, the flannel robe she wore gaping a little at the lapels so he could glimpse the thin cotton T-shirt she wore beneath.
Was it still layered over a second? Or had she stripped one off as she’d gotten ready for bed? The thought heated his blood in spite of the topic of conversation—one he’d avoided discussing with anyone for years. But with Stephanie asking the questions, he couldn’t feel defensive. He only wanted her to be safe. Happy.
“You can ask anything.” He meant it. For her, he’d tear down defenses he’d spent five years building.
“When you wrote to me after my book came out...” She seemed to weigh her words, laying a hand on his chest, right over his heart. “What did your letter say?”
Crap. Sure she could ask him anything. That didn’t mean he’d be able to answer.
“It was a long time ago.” He didn’t mention that he could probably recite the thing verbatim since he’d spent more time composing it than he had on original music for the old band. “But I was basically checking to see how you were doing. Ask if you wanted to...get together.”
All of which was true.
He braced for her reaction. He’d put more of himself on the line with her today than he ever had before.
She shivered against him and he lifted her onto his lap, settling her across his thighs.
“I was so mixed up then, it’s probably just as well I didn’t see you,” she confided, her blue eyes more visible now that she was turned toward the scant light coming from the house.
He didn’t mention that her reluctance to see him made it easier for him to spend months on end at sea. No other woman had come close to Stephanie, and a couple of years ago, he’d put some effort into trying to find someone.
No one fit in his arms like this. No one rocked an air guitar like she did. When they’d parted ways before she left for Iraq, he’d always imagined he’d pick up the phone and call her after her six-month stint to explore the attraction. Neither of them had seen the need to make some big commitment before she went abroad, but they’d been young and had never imagined the way her trip would change both of their lives.
He couldn’t tell her that it had damn near killed him that she’d never acknowledged his efforts to get in touch with her.
“So it wouldn’t have been a good idea to see me then, but now it’s okay?” He smoothed a few strands of her hair that had separated from the knot at the back of her head. The silky locks glided over his skin, another reminder of how delicate she was. How soft and tender.
“Back then, I couldn’t handle any reminders of that time in my life. I didn’t see Christina for a long time, either.” Her husky voice rasped in the cool air, the admission easing some of the ache he’d felt at her rejection of that old letter he’d sent her. “Being with you would have just triggered a whole mess of emotions I wasn’t prepared to deal with.”
His heart slugged his chest, slow and steady. He watched her mouth move as she spoke. Stephanie might not be ready to let him into her life, but she’d come here because she wanted to be with him. Maybe that physical connection would have to be enough until he could convince her they deserved more than that.
“And now?” He could feel the whiskey burn in his chest. Or at least he told himself that was what accounted for the fire he felt inside.
“Now, I have too many hang-ups to let my guard down and be with anyone else. I went into pet photography because the animals give unconditional acceptance. I do fine with them, but with most people...not so much.” She traced the seam of the collar on his
T-shirt, unaware of how much she affected him. “Since I never had any problems with you, however, I thought it would be a good idea to see if I could still—” her fingers walked down his shirt, lightly skimming his chest “—find release. You know. Still lose myself completely in the moment without freaking out.”
The warrior in him demanded to know why, if she hadn’t been assaulted, she would “freak out” during intimacy, and who he needed to castrate as payback. But he understood now that he should take care of her first and think about the rest later.
“So this is a test of sorts.” He focused all his thoughts on her. The present.
“For me more than you,” she assured him, her hand splayed along his ribs. Her thighs shifting lightly against his.
“Then we’d better go study.” He scooped her up in his arms, one arm beneath her knees and the other under her shoulders. Standing, he left his guitar in the case on the deck, knowing the salt water would trash it but willing to make that sacrifice for something far more precious. “We’re both going to ace this one.”
6
FOR A MOMENT, Stephanie’s nervousness melted away. After months of waiting, she was really going to be with Danny again.
She wrapped her arms around his neck as he strode across the deck toward the French doors to the house, allowing herself a dreamy sigh of satisfaction before her nervousness returned. And she knew it would. She’d pinned so much on this reunion with him that it was inevitable she’d be wound up about it.
“What about your guitar?” She looked back over Danny’s shoulder at the case resting on the patio outside, her heart beating fast as he carried her into the house.
“I have others.” He never broke stride as he strode down a hall off the kitchen. “And if you’re thinking about the six-string—” he paused as he flicked on a light in a big, modern laundry room “—then I’d better give you something else to occupy your mind.”
“We’re going to do laundry?” She peered around at the stainless-steel front-loader washing machine and the old-fashioned drying rack standing beside a matching dryer.
“Hardly.” He turned so she could see the other side of the room, where a small, inset stall looked like a minishower with a big grate on the floor that covered a drain. “I thought you’d want to wash the sand off your feet.”
He set her on top of the grate and removed a handheld showerhead that had been installed at waist level.
“Cool.” Her bare feet were definitely gritty, as were his. “It’s a foot shower?”
“No. It’s a spot to wash the dog I don’t own yet.” He turned the water on, but pointed it down into the drain until he was happy with the temperature. Then he handed the showerhead to her. “I designed the house myself, and I figured this setup would be nice to have in the future.”
Stephanie sighed with pleasure at the hot water between her toes.
“And helpful when your feet are sandy. How clever.” She worked on the other foot while Danny grabbed a towel from a stack in a basket above the dryer. “I’ll be anxious to take a closer look at the rest of the house to see what you’ve done.”
Stepping onto the towel, she traded places with him so he could wash off.
“Tomorrow,” he said firmly, shutting off the water. He stepped onto the towel before coming toward her. “Right now, I think we have an experiment to conduct. A test to take.”
His green eyes fixed on her.
Her mouth went dry. Nervousness spiked, but not nearly as much as her desire for him. All her hopes for this night—this moment—made her tremble.
The force of the attraction made her launch herself into his arms. She kissed him with years of pent-up longing, allowing herself to show him how much she wanted him. She’d held back earlier, unsure of his response. But now, there was no need. He understood what she wanted.
What she feared.
His lips were soft and slow against hers, his deliberate control of the kiss helping her to relax and just enjoy it.
When he broke away from her, his gaze dropped to her mouth.
“I’m going to take you upstairs now.”
It wasn’t a question. But then, she’d signed on for this the moment she propositi
oned him. She nodded, her lips tingling from the scorching look he gave her as much as the kiss.
“Let’s go.” She offered him her hand, ready to follow him anywhere.
* * *
DANNY SWALLOWED HARD as he led her through the darkened house. Up the stairs. Into his bedroom.
Last night, when he’d thought about returning home after six months at sea, he’d never in a million years envisioned her here with him. She’d given him something so special and unexpected that he wanted to make this perfect for her.
In fact, that’s how he was going to keep his head on straight tonight—thinking about her and what she wanted. This wasn’t about him and how much he’d dreamed about her. Feared for her. Wanted to avenge her.
This was just about Stephanie and what she needed. He’d already made quick work of his own most basic needs after he’d settled her in a spare bedroom for the night. That was one of the reasons he’d suggested they retreat to their own beds originally—he hadn’t been able to think about anything but sex until he took the edge off a few times on his own. The self-gratification didn’t take away from how much he wanted her now. But he hoped it would help him be patient enough to take good care of her.
He let go of her hand and turned on the dimmer switch, casting the smallest glow over the room so she could observe everything around her. He’d understood her fear earlier—not being able to see—and wouldn’t let that happen again.
She remained in the middle of the room, halfway between the bed and the sitting area, right where he’d left her.
“I like being able to see you.” He met her there, the two of them spotlighted by the glow from a wrought-iron chandelier. “That way I know I’m not dreaming that you’re really here.”
“I spent too long waiting for you to come back home to leave now.”
He wished she’d been waiting for him for more reasons than her need to recover her sexual confidence, but he would enjoy whatever she gave him.
“That’s so damn good to hear.” He lifted a hand to a silver pin in her hair. “I’m going to take this down now, okay?”
He didn’t want anything to catch her off guard. No surprises.
As she nodded, he slid out the pin and her glossy dark mane unwound onto her shoulder. Pocketing the clip, he sifted his fingers through the silky mass.
She arched her neck as if she liked that. He had to be careful not to breathe her in too deeply or he’d lose himself in the feel of her.
He steadied her by the shoulders, or maybe he was steadying himself. Either way, he had her clasped close to his chest, absorbing the warmth of her skin through flannel and cotton.
“What would you think of me taking off your robe?” He ran a finger down one lapel, pausing shy of the V between her breasts.
Her pupils dilated until the blue became a thin rim around the dark center.
“I’d like that.” Her husky voice was as intoxicating as a caress up his thigh.
He tucked a finger into the knot at her waist and tugged it free. The flannel tie fell away, opening the robe so he could see the T-shirt and the cotton shorts she’d put on after her shower. She looked beautiful. Touchable. With no makeup on and no complicated clothes to unhook or unzip, she was utterly natural and so different from other women he’d known. She didn’t pout her lips or bat her lashes. Didn’t toss her hair or giggle.
As he stared, her breasts pressed against the white shirt, the soft shape of her curves outlining the shadowed tips of nipples that demanded his attention.
“I’d kill to kiss you here.” He tugged on the hem of the shirt so the fabric rubbed against the taut peaks. “I don’t even need the shirt off. I just want you in my mouth.”
Her eyelids fluttered and then closed. “Yes.”
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he steadied her back as he helped her arch toward him. He bent over her, closing his lips around one dusky tip. She shuddered hard. A throaty cry edged up her throat, vibrating in his ear while he shaped the tight crest of her with his mouth.
He drew on her, not caring about the fabric between them as long as she was on the other side of it. The steamy heat of the kiss turned the material damp, making the cloth cling to her. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders, her hips cradling his.
Hunger roared in his veins. She couldn’t miss the erection that she’d pinned between them. The friction of her body there was as potent as if she’d stroked the naked length of him with her hand. His temperature spiked to feverish levels, his vision narrowing to her.
“I’d like to see more of you.” He breathed deep to cool himself down, but every lungful of air contained the feminine scent that went deeper than any fragrance and clung to her skin even after a dip in the ocean and a shower, intensifying with the heat of her body. He wanted to lick every inch of her until he found the source of it.
“Then we’re even because I’m dying to get you naked,” she whispered, spearing her hands beneath his shirt to span his abs. His chest.
Just that simple touch had him seeing stars.
“And while that sounds...incredible—” he struggled to rein in the need for her, which was quickly spiraling out of control “—I think it’s a risky proposition.”
“I don’t care.” She flexed her fingers against his flesh, her nails digging gently into his skin. “I’ve been waiting so long for this.”
“All the more reason to make sure nothing spoils it.” He couldn’t trust himself to the same degree once his shorts were off. “Come here.”
He led her toward the bed and gripped the hem of her T-shirt. Taking his time, he skimmed the fabric up and off, tossing it aside.
The sight of her half-naked body left him speechless. Her breasts were high and round, perfectly formed. She was pale and smooth everywhere, right down to the curve of her hips, where she had the running shorts cinched. The waistband dropped a little near the drawstring, exposing her stomach well below her navel.
His mouth watered to kiss her there and work his way down.
“If your hands are half as thorough as your eyes,” she murmured, “this is going to be fun.”
“I’ll make sure of it.” He didn’t allow any room for doubt. He swept a hand over her hip and hooked a finger on the shorts. “Ready?”
“Danny.” She gripped his wrist, an urgent expression on her face.
Was she backing out?
“What?”
“I want this so badly, it scares me.” Her fingers trembled where she held him. “Don’t stop, okay?”
“I’m not stopping until you see stars.” He brushed a kiss along her temple. Maybe keeping her distracted would help. More touching. Less talk.
Untying the drawstring, he let the shorts fall. And damned if his knees didn’t nearly drop along with them. She was naked beneath the cotton. No panties, no thong, no nothing. Just a tiny patch of dark curls shielding her sex.
The throb in his cock was nothing compared to what it would be by the time he was done. He wanted her, but he had no intention of taking her tonight. Not when she just needed to climax. He wasn’t going to rush this thing between him, even if it killed him. By the punch of blood in his veins down below, it damn near might.
“Beautiful,” he praised her, lowering his mouth to hers. “Open for me.”
Lips parting, she let her head fall back, giving herself over completely. He took his time savoring her, stroking and nipping until they were both out of breath. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close. Feeling her hips against his was like setting a detonation device in an armory. If she kept moving against him like that, he stood no chance of honoring his good intentions. For that matter, if he hadn’t kept his shorts on, he’d be inside her already.
Steeling himself to the heaven she offered, he lifted her up and laid her out on his bed. He reached for an extra pillow and dragged it down to where she lay, crossways on the king-size bed. He tucked it under her head, propping her up, while he began a slow descent of her body. He paused at he
r breasts—her low moan made him linger there. He cupped her, lifting each breast to his mouth in turn.
It was all he could do to keep his hips away from hers—he was drawn to her like true north. He smoothed a hand down her side to her hip. Lower.
When he grazed her thigh, sweat popped along his brow from the effort to hold back. Her soft sighs and breathy cries were making him crazy, the need for her all but taking over. His hands trembled by the time he dipped one between her legs. Parting her thighs, she arched her back when he drew hard on one nipple.
“I want to touch you,” he warned her, fingers sliding higher. Closer to where he wanted to be most.
“Please. Please. Pleeease,” she chanted, twisting under his touch as if she could guide him where she needed him.
He lifted his head to watch her face when he touched her sex, partly to make sure she was okay with this. Mostly because he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
When he stroked a finger along her slick folds, she shuddered against him.
“Oh, yes, Danny.” Her fingers speared through his hair, holding him closer while she moved against his hand.
She was so ready for him. He forced himself to close his eyes for a minute because seeing her was pushing him toward his own release. Just the feel of her could send him over the edge, but by cutting out the visual—if only temporarily—he gave himself a fighting chance of staying in control.
Of course, it also meant he wouldn’t see right away if she hesitated over anything. The thought wrenched his eyelids open again. Imagining her going into another panic, like in the water, helped to level him out.
He could feel when she neared her climax. Her body stilled, her expression softening into a kind of frozen wonder. He kept up the rhythm of his hand and wrapped his lips around a taut nipple, drawing her deeply into his mouth.
At once, she flew apart. Her hips thrust, her heels digging into the bed. Needing to feel just a little of it, he dipped a finger inside her. She clawed lightly at his shoulders while the soft convulsions of her feminine muscles squeezed him again and again.