He sat next to her, and tapped her shoulder. Little thrills of excitement shot down her arm, prickling her flesh. “Count on me. If you need help with anything.”
Anything? She looked at him with a half-smile, and glanced at him mysteriously. He nodded, took a deep breath and she chewed on her lower lip. Tension crackled between them.
“Well, we should go to sleep. I’m fixin’ to walk to the truck to pick up my stuff,” he said, and leaned over her to reach for his keys. He’d left his luggage in the car earlier in case the motel didn’t have any vacancy.
He grabbed the keys and she raised her head.
He dipped down his until he was at eye level with her. “Natalie,” he called her, but didn’t finish.
She pulled him to her, hands grazing his shoulder, feeling him.
Any rational thought jumped out the window the moment she touched him. A carnal desire pinched her so hard it would probably leave a mark. They were two broken people in a sketchy motel room—two ravenous lovers who needed each other.
He lowered his lips to hers and when his tongue invaded her mouth, her body quivered in response. She cupped his face, and he intensified the kiss with the urgency of a man who’d already discovered and mastered all the secrets of her mouth.
Natalie embraced him with the intensity of hurricane. For so long nothing in her life had felt right. Her hasty marriage, her decision to stay in the marriage, her wish to leave town but inability to do so… they had all been decisions she’d been forced to make. Yet now… kissing him, his tongue exploring her like a hunter did a mountain, had never been better. She was in charge, she’d initiated the kiss and pure empowerment moved through her.
And arousal. She began to remove his shirt, fussing over his buttons. When she slid her hand down his jeans, a massive cock greeted her, hard as a longhorn. He groaned against her lips, and she slid her hand farther and stroked him, hoping he wouldn’t suddenly change his mind.
The sensation of his hot flesh pulsating against her palm released a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. He groaned under his breath, his stomach stiffening. She stroked his dick, desperate to see him lose control under her command.
Vincent had other plans. Catching her wrist, he pushed her down on the bed. Before she protested, he traced a path of kisses down her neck, and she closed her eyes, burying her head in the pillow.
He pulled up her skirt and lowered her panties. A cold draft teased her exposed sex, the sensation having the opposite internal effect and searing her nerve endings. He blew a puff of air into her, and zingers of anticipation tingled in her core. “Vincent,” she hissed.
A shiver of pleasure moved through her when he breathed closer to her pussy, and she moaned. He licked her, and she shoved her hands in his hair, arching her body toward him. God, he knew how to eat out a woman. His tongue fucked her like a cock would, without shame or impediment.
“Oh yes,” she said when he inserted a couple of fingers into her cunt and they made an invisible pattern on her folds teasing her to the point of madness. “Don’t stop.”
He continued licking her, thrusting his fingers in and out of her ruthlessly. The feel of his strong, calloused hand between her thighs brought a sense of completion, second only to a good ol’ fuck. She lifted her ass from the mattress, too restless to keep still. He slid his fingers under her butt and brought her to his mouth like she was some expensive ass wine he tasted. Or rather, chugged down his throat.
The man lapped at her pussy like he was searching for the secret map to an ancient sacred monument, and every fold drove him closer to his final destination. He kneaded her buttocks, his fingers warming her ass.
“Babe, you eat me so good,” she said, forgetting his surname and what it represented for a moment. “You’re driving me crazy.”
Her words encouraged him, and soon his thumb flicked her clit. She gasped, oxygen caught in her throat. The way he teased her with his tongue and fingers had an underlying punishing vibe… so intense, so powerful. Pleasure throbbed in her core and quickly spread through her body. She convulsed and creamed in his mouth, and never for an instant did he stop his relentless pursuit. Her moans filled the room, louder than she intended, but lower than the heartbeats drumming in her chest.
He finally rose from between her legs, and sat at the edge of the bed. “Natalie…” he ran his hand into his hair. “What are we doing?”
She propped herself on her elbows. “Screwing.” She let out a long sigh. “I need this.”
The amazing oral sex he’d performed only made her hungrier, not even close to being sated. For the last few years she hadn’t cared much for the lack of a sex life, but now her entire being tingled with a need for him in a way she couldn’t explain or understand—just feel.
“I don’t even have a condom with me,” he said, his voice factual.
She sat on the bed, and scooted next to him. “Come inside me, then. I can’t get pregnant,” she said, savoring the idea of him filling her in the most primitive way. Doctors had assured her it’d be very hard under ideal circumstances, and highly unlikely in the worst.
He glanced at her, and shook his head. “What?” Before she replied, he surged to his feet and created a distance between them. He regarded her once more, and frustration flickered in his eyes. His entire body stiffened. “Why not?”
Because of your son. How to tell him Clint’s death wasn’t the only consequence of the car accident? “Because of the car accident, my uterus got damaged and doctors said my chances were next to zero,” she said, looking down at the carpet.
He took a couple of steps toward her, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
She raised her gaze to him. “It’s okay. I’ve come to terms with it,” she lied. Growing up with divorced parents who had used her as a pawn against each other and fought in court or out of court, she always wanted to prove them wrong. She wanted to have a lasting marriage and offer her future children a happy childhood—so much so, she hesitated to leave Clint one too many times.
He ran his hand down his face. “Natalie, I can’t screw you. That’d be wrong.”
“Don’t you want me?” She hated how insecure she sounded. Ever since Clint’s death she hadn’t been with anyone. Though a couple of men in town had asked her out on dates.
He curled his lips at the corners of his sexy mouth. “Yes, but I have to be stronger than desire. You were married to my son, darlin’.”
She rubbed her palms together. Should she tell him? “Our marriage ended long before he died. I don’t know how much you know, and I don’t want to talk smack about Clint but—
He lifted his hand, gesturing for her to stop talking. “I understand. Clint was sick, and I don’t think he did right by you. But making him into the bad guy for a quick fuck ain’t working.”
Red hot anger flushed through her body. “That’s not what I was doing. I was just explaining,” she said, shaking her head. He had no right to simply accuse her of talking shit about her husband. He didn’t know half of what his son had put her through… “For the longest time I put other people first—and if you think I’m smearing his reputation just to get my rocks off…”
He waved her off. “See? We’re already arguing because of him. Listen I’m flattered but this won’t ever happen. I’m sorry I mauled you like a rabid dog.” He reached for the duffel bag he’d brought and grabbed it from the floor. “I’m going to sleep in my truck. Stay in the room. We’ll drive back to town in the morning and act like tonight never happened.”
Chapter 3
“How are the renovations coming along?” Dina asked.
“Good,” Natalie said, focusing on the fresh batch of vanilla cupcakes she had just sat on the marbled counter to add frosting. The less they spoke to each other, the better. Vincent had been at her house for the past four days, and they’d only exchanged a handful of words. A part of her resented what he’d said in Sally’s motel room. Then again, he’d fixed her AC the next day, so she couldn’t afford to hold
a grudge.
If only she still had the scorching temperature to blame for the internal fever whenever she remembered their short-lived hook-up.
“I told you his coming was a good idea,” Dina said.
Natalie clenched the icing tube, and squirted too much blue frosting on the cupcake. Vincent. Coming.
Guilt wrapped around her heart for a long beat, then squeezed it. Dina had no idea about what had happened, and Natalie would rather die than tell her. From what she knew about Vincent, she doubted he’d spill the beans to his ex-wife. “Yes,” she said simply, and faked a smile. Sure, Dina had been intrusive when she’d invited Vincent, but she meant well.
“And you know what else is a good idea? The pot roast I’m cooking. You’re coming over for dinner tonight.”
“Dinner? Who else will be there?” she asked, to make sure Dina hadn’t invited Vincent along.
“I invited Josh from across the street.”
Josh Anthony? The mechanic who worked in his father’s repair shop? He’d invited her on a date a few months ago but she’d politely declined. Josh had a kind smile and wasn’t bad to look at, even though his tall frame was rather too slim to her taste. “Are you playing cupid? Because it won’t work, Miss Dina.”
Dina shrugged her off. “Natalie. You’re young and have so much life in you. You need to date again. Josh is a wonderful young man.”
“What if I’m not into him?”
“Give him a chance.”
What chance? Josh didn’t evoke in her the type of sinful fantasies Vincent had. But Josh is nice and won’t tell you off like Vincent. “If I don’t like him, I don’t want you to ever set me up with anyone again. Deal?”
Dina grinned. “Deal.”
“Since you’re cooking pot roast… I’ll be there.” Natalie had to put her newfound desire for Vincent on a leash. Indulging in a different kind of meat was the least she could do to keep her sanity until he finished remodeling her home.
Hours later, Natalie fixed the stubborn thin strap of her flowery dress that kept sliding off. She’d run home and showered after Dina’s dinner invitation. Maybe it was a good thing to stay away from Vincent for a night.
Dina had a point.
Natalie had been a widow for four years, and lonelier for longer. She owed it to herself to have a good time and give Josh a shot. What if he turned out to be more fun than she expected? Or maybe he’d just be a congenial good guy—a nice change from Clint and certainly not as much of a threat as Vincent.
“Natalie,” Dina said with flair when she opened the door for her enthusiastically, as if they hadn’t seen each other in a while. “I’m so glad you made it,” she continued, ushering her inside. “You remember Josh from across the street, right?”
Josh stood up, all nervous energy, with a smile denting both cheeks. “Hi, Natalie,” he said, and even she detected the eagerness in his voice. Either he’d shown up early and Dina had drilled him with questions, or Josh was indeed happy to see her.
“Hey Josh. How’s it going?”
For the next thirty minutes, Natalie sat next to him and allowed herself to wonder. What would be like to date a guy like him? He came with no baggage and no complications. Sure, her stomach didn’t dive to the floor when he spoke and her skin showed no goose bumps so far. Maybe those things really didn’t matter.
“And then I told Dad I’d never shoot a hog again,” Josh finished telling another hunting story he’d shoved down her throat even though she didn’t necessarily enjoy them. She grew up with family members who hunted and fished. Though she was no vegetarian, she didn’t find pleasure in hearing tales involving animals getting hurt in the wild.
Josh snickered, and she flashed him a neutral smile.
Keep your mind open.
She looked down at her beer bottle, and clenched it, hoping if she’d rub it she would magically disappear far away from Dina’s.
Dina kept setting the table, though the cute round table didn’t need much fussing. But she imagined her boss did so to give them one-on-one time, which only made it more awkward.
The doorbell rang. Perhaps a neighbor had an emergency and needed help. The possibilities teased her mind as Dina rushed to open the door, fixing her hair on the way as if the Pope was coming for dinner.
“Vincent. I’m so glad you got my voicemail. Join us,” Dina said.
Natalie straightened her shoulders. Until then, she had slumped on the sofa next to Josh, but the very real form of Vincent walking into the living room set her body on full alert. Her heart raced like those childhood days when she had to make it to the school bus stop so she wouldn’t be late.
She heard Vincent’s low, deep drawl and it sent a rumble though her body. Over the past few days, they’d stayed out of each other’s way. But tonight they’d have to at least engage in small talk so no one noticed any bad blood between them.
“… And the young man talking to our sweet Natalie is Josh Anthony. Perhaps you haven’t met him yet. He’s great with fixing cars,” Dina said to Vincent, then pointed at Natalie and Josh.
Josh rose from the sofa and stretched out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Vincent glanced at Josh’s hand for a lingering moment before accepting the handshake.
Vincent’s gaze focused on her while Josh and Dina chattered. She swallowed. His eyes quietly reprimanded her, a dark gleam coating his irises. His facial expression sobered, and a thrill moved through her. He’s… jealous?
Maybe Vincent didn’t know it yet… but he wanted her almost as much as she wanted him. And she’d be damned if she’d let the opportunity slip through her fingers.
“Aren’t they sweet together?” Dina whispered after dinner.
What a fool he’d been. His ex-wife insisted he attend dinner, and if the last years of their marriage had been sour and bitter, her cooking had never lost its freshness. He’d decided a change of scenery was the perfect answer to his current problem—a constant boner with Natalie’s name on it.
“No,” he said curtly.
Natalie and that boy still sat at the dining table, and she chuckled at something he said. Vincent had had enough of that bullshit; he stood and went to the living room, thinking of a good excuse to either leave the place or clock the young bastard. Jay or Jacob or whatever the hell his name was, flushed as he kept talking. Fuck. He wasn’t man enough to handle a woman like Natalie. Hell, he isn’t even boy enough. He’s a freaking fetus.
Dina patted his back. “I know what you’re thinking.”
His stomach roiled. Shit. Sweat broke on his forehead. He’d hoped Natalie wouldn’t mention anything to Dina about their make-out session back at Sally’s Motel. “You do?”
With a nod, she gestured for him to sit down but he remained standing. “You’re protective. She was married to our son, but life is for the living. Natalie has the right to be happy.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Damn right. Do you know this kid?” he asked, pretending to care about who his sexy daughter-in-law dated. If he had an ounce of character, he’d wish her the best instead of plotting ways to murder her date. Hell. If he had an ounce of character, he’d keep in mind the same lame-ass excuse he’d given her: the two of them would never work. Period.
“He’s hardworking, nice and even goes to the same church I go to. Best of all, he has a crush on her. Can’t you tell?” Dina said.
Her words didn’t soothe him any. As Dina continued to rave about Josh, Vincent watched Natalie. Why had she put on such a flimsy dress? The yellow flowery pattern didn’t hide her taut nipples. Did that gawky boy turn her on? Blood thrummed in his veins. Coming to this dinner had done nothing to get her out of his mind.
Quite the opposite. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Are you okay?” Dina pulled him back to reality.
He sucked in a breath. “Yup. Tired, that’s all.”
“I can imagine.” She flashed him a smile. “Thanks for coming back and helping Natali
e out. I’m sure our Clint appreciates you keeping an eye out for his wife from wherever he may be,” she said, her voice wavering at the end.
“Does he?” The two words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.
Dina’s eyebrows furrowed, her face tightening. “What on God’s green earth do you mean?”
He cleared his throat. Bringing up their differences regarding their parenting styles wasn’t the smartest idea—neither was mentioning Clint’s own wife probably had an alphabetical list of complaints. Guilt wrapped around his chest like a rope. He looked into Dina’s kind eyes, and exhaled. He’d break her heart if he said anything negative about their son.
Not that he had the right—he’d fled. He abandoned them, and maybe if he had stuck it out his son wouldn’t have turned into a brawl-seeking, raging alcoholic. “I don’t mean anything. I, like you, believe there’s a better place for us to go to once we kick the bucket,” he said, hoping his after-life comment steered them away from the uncomfortable topic.
Her shoulders sagged, and her face softened again. “I figure after losing my son, there’s really nothing worse that can happen to me. Positivity is my strategy to keep living.”
He squeezed her shoulder. Maybe they could be friends after all. “You’ve always been the smart one.”
“Excuse us…” he heard Josh’s voice.
He turned around to find Josh and Natalie standing. “We’re going now.”
“Didn’t you drive here?” he asked Natalie, remembering seeing her old truck in the driveway.
She lifted her chin. “Yes, but Josh will follow me with his truck just to make sure I get home okay.”
“No need. I’m going soon too,” he said. Hell, he’d leave now if it meant the young buck kept his damn paws off her luscious body. “I can follow you.”
Dina nudged his elbow. “Let him follow her home. I’m glad y’all showed up.”
“Thank you for dinner,” Natalie hugged Dina.
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