Dameon was there to help.
“About that—” Grace swallowed the word drink when Dameon turned her around and lowered his lips to hers.
He was as warm as the fire and tasted faintly like whiskey. Maybe it was the scent of pine and firewood, but Dameon felt one hundred percent man. She’d kissed enough boys to know the difference.
She closed her eyes and settled into the moment.
His arms closed her in and she grasped his sweater, enjoyed the feeling of his chest under her hands. His tongue swept briefly at her lips before playing with hers.
She was pretty sure she moaned.
Like before, he broke it off before she forgot where she was.
The more he did that, the more she wanted to forget. “Hello to you, too,” she said.
Dameon wiped his thumb over her bottom lip. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Oh, she was hungry all right. That’s when she smelled it.
“I’m warming up. I wouldn’t call it cooking.”
It smelled familiar. “Roast?”
He led her into the kitchen. He’d brought in two barstools and a small dinette set. “Sit. Tell me about your day.”
Grace followed his advice and watched as he moved around the out-of-date kitchen. “My boss is a dick.”
He laughed. “You already mentioned that.”
She explained her encounter before leaving the office while Dameon poured vodka, ice, and a dash of something else into a shaker. He poured the drink into a proper martini glass and plopped in an olive.
Grace accepted the drink with a question. “How much time have you been spending here?”
“More than I expected.” He lifted her glass to hers. “To martinis at home.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Cheers.”
They both drank and put the glasses down. “So, your boss pulled the permission card.”
“There’s a card?” she asked.
Dameon shrugged. “It’s an asshole move, but yes. My guess is somewhere it’s written that he has to approve overtime for every salaried employee. I have the same clause, but can’t say I’ve ever had to use it.”
“It’s bullshit.”
“I agree. It’s assumed when you run to do a last-minute request from your boss, that the overtime is good.”
“Exactly.”
“Did you say that before you left the office?”
“No.”
“There’s the loophole. Next time clarify. If he says no, skip his request.”
Grace sighed. “And give him a reason to fire me.”
Dameon leaned against the back counter facing her. “Are you really worried he will?”
Instead of answering his question point-blank, she asked, “Do I look like I’m insecure?”
He laughed. “No.”
“Right. I’m not. But with Richard, I feel like I’m on eggshells. This last year has been awful.”
“Was there anything that prompted it?”
“No.” She took another drink. “In the beginning, I was new. Thought everything was normal for a new employee. Six months in, I realized that I was the only woman there and it meant I needed to prove I was as capable as the men.” She paused and looked Dameon in the eye. “It’s been five years and I’m tired of proving myself.”
“And when did your feelings change?”
“I don’t know . . . six months ago, maybe a year.”
Dameon waved two fingers in the air. “And that, hon, is the shift. You got fed up and Richard noticed. Now he’s flexing to show his power.”
“By being an ass?”
“Maybe. Your boss felt a crack in his control, so he’s fighting back.”
She knew Dameon was right. “So, what do I do?”
“Are you good at your job?”
Grace looked at him like he was crazy. “I’m fabulous at my job! I run the track twice before the second employee under Richard runs it once.”
Dameon folded his arms across his chest, his cheeks pulled up in a grin. “Then man up. Stick to your guns and follow his rules. If he fires you, get another job and hire a lawyer. I know a few.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“Know your worth. It’s what separates workers from bosses. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re a leader. Richard probably sees that and is either intimidated or pushing you to realize it.”
Dameon’s words rolled around in her head. “Richard doesn’t like me. I doubt this is about him wanting the best for me.”
“Then he’s the one who’s insecure.”
Grace stopped talking and looked at the man. Suddenly, the whole Richard ordeal felt less. Less of a concern, less important, less needing to take up her time.
She smiled. “So, what are we eating?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
He’d ordered dinner from The Backwoods and kept it warm in the oven.
Grace sat beside Dameon eating prime rib and listening to his rundown of the details of Christmas day with his brother and mom.
She couldn’t stop laughing. “So dinner was popcorn and mashed potatoes?”
“And pie. Don’t forget the pie.”
Apparently, his mom made pie the day before, so that was prepared and in the fridge.
“No wonder there’s enough food here for a week.”
Dameon asked for the whole rib roast and not just a slice. “Probably not a good idea to go to the store hungry,” he said.
She looked at the remainder of the slab of beef. “You think?”
“She had to know she was high. I kept asking her if she was okay and all she did was giggle.”
“Did you ask your brother what he gave her?”
“No. I haven’t seen my mom that happy since before my dad passed. I wasn’t about to put my brother in the hot seat.”
“Aw . . . that’s sweet.”
“He’s staying through tomorrow. Then going back to Seth and Barney.”
Grace found herself laughing again.
“It’s not funny.”
She tried to keep a straight face and failed. “It’s a little funny.”
Dameon finally cracked a smile and she helped him find the humor. “We need to introduce my aunt Beth to your mom.”
Grace pushed aside her plate.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For coming over. For making me laugh at what normally frustrates me.”
“I unloaded my baggage about my boss. The least I can do is listen to yours about Tristan.”
Outside, the cry of a coyote stopped their conversation.
“I don’t know if I will ever get used to that.” Dameon stood and looked out the back window.
“I would rather hear a coyote than the siren of a police car or ambulance.” Grace gathered both their plates and walked into the kitchen.
“I’ll do that,” he said.
She looked around for a garbage can, found it under the sink. “In my world, the one who cooks doesn’t clean.”
Dameon moved to stand beside her over the sink. “Since I didn’t cook, that doesn’t count.”
“I’ll wash, you dry and put away.”
Dameon spun around. “I don’t have dish towels.”
“Oh. Does the dishwasher work?”
His face lit up. “Yes. But I don’t have the right soap.”
“You need help,” Grace teased.
The two of them loaded the dishwasher and put the remainder of the food in the refrigerator.
With the chores out of the way, Dameon put another log on the fire and encouraged her to sit.
When she did, Grace realized quickly that the couch was as worn down as it was old. No matter where you sat, the missing springs in the middle forced you to roll toward the center.
“It’s pretty bad,” Dameon said. “I had the people that cleaned the carpet clean the couch before I sat on it.”
Dameon tried to sit a foot away, but they both ended up in the middle.
�
��That was a waste of money.” She scooted forward and started to lift the cloth covering the coffee table.
Dameon’s hand reached out to stop her. “Home Depot boxes.”
She laughed. “This reminds me of the days right after college when I was broke.”
He sat back and lifted his arm behind her shoulders and pulled her close. Not that he needed to do much of the work since the couch had already made it impossible to sit far away. “I keep going back and forth between hiring someone to do the shopping for me or doing it myself.”
“You hire someone to shop? How do I get that job?” She found the comfort of his arm and the crackle of the fire hypnotic.
“You’re overqualified.”
“Find me a woman who doesn’t like to shop with other people’s money.”
“I doubt that exists,” Dameon said.
She certainly didn’t know any. “So the house is lacking essentials, but I’m guessing the garage is already well equipped.”
“Of course. I know my way around the home improvement stores. Dish towels and coffee tables are a different story.”
“That’s a man for you. Buy a hammer you might need before a towel you use every day.”
Dameon took her hand in his and traced her fingers. His simple touch pulled a flutter from deep within her belly.
She gazed up to find him watching their hands. He stopped and looked at her. “I should probably be encouraging you to leave.”
“Probably.” Grace lifted her chin a fraction of an inch, and Dameon accepted her invitation.
The way the man kissed . . . slow and sexy. His arm around her shoulders pulled her in tighter as she opened her lips in acceptance. Her eyes closed, and the space between them did as well. This wasn’t a kiss good night in the front seat of a truck, or at her front door. No, this was hello. An awakening of sensations brought on by more than just the act. More than the feel of Dameon’s arms roaming down her back and up into her hair to tilt her head. This was more, somehow.
Grace didn’t want to question the butterflies in her stomach and the excitement of his touch.
She just wanted to feel.
Her hands reached for him, his chest . . . his arms.
The small brush of his thumb on her breast caught her breath in her throat.
Dameon moved his hand away and kept kissing her.
Grace reached for his retreating hand and put it more firmly on her chest.
He sighed and took what she was offering.
She started to squirm. The desire for more and closer and without clothes slowly became a need. Her fingertips pulled at the edges of Dameon’s sweater until she felt skin.
His lips broke away and his hand reached for her face.
Grace opened her eyes to find him staring. “This isn’t why I invited you over,” he whispered.
“I know that”—and she did—“but it’s what we both want.”
The firelight swirled in his eyes and he lowered his lips again.
Feeling free to touch, Grace let her hands roam. The strong muscles of his chest and the tapered waist to the belt he wore with his jeans . . . everything excited her more.
Dameon’s lips moved to her jaw with a playful scrape of his teeth.
Grace crawled on top of him, straddling his legs with hers. She felt his heat through their clothes and reveled in his hands as they moved down her back and squeezed her backside. She tugged at his sweater. “This needs to go.”
He helped her pull it over his head and relaxed against the couch as she explored his bare chest with her hands.
She looked him in the eye as her fingernails ran over his nipples.
When his hands squeezed her hips and he lifted his pelvis toward hers, she knew she’d found one of his sweet spots. He was certainly pressing against all of hers.
She kissed him this time, leading his tongue into a dance with hers. More urgent with need. It had been a long time since she’d been intimate with anyone, and even longer since she felt this kind of buildup inside of her.
Her shirt met his on the floor, and Dameon filled both his hands with her breasts through her bra. “Is there any part of you that isn’t gorgeous?” he asked before he leaned forward to press his lips on her flesh and push her bra aside. Her nipples were already tiny nubs of desire, and Dameon captured them with his teeth.
She rocked against him, enjoying the friction between her legs. “Please tell me you have a proper bed in this house,” she said with a sigh.
His chest rumbled with laughter. “Hold on.”
Before she could move, Dameon was on his feet, and his hands held her against him so she couldn’t escape.
With her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms holding on to his neck, Dameon walked them down the hall and into his bedroom. “I can walk,” she told him.
He shook his head. “I like this better.”
Dameon set her down on his mattress and helped her scoot up the bed. For a moment he simply looked at her, the rise and fall of her chest, her swollen lips from their make-out session on the couch. The couch he hated but had to give props to for keeping her so close to him while they sat there. Grace was sexy and beautiful and staring at him with her hair sprawled all over his pillows. There were so many things he wanted to say to her in that moment, but there was something he wanted to do to her more.
He spread out over her, his knee resting between her legs, and pressed his skin to hers. Their lips met, and Dameon melted into her kiss. He matched her nibble for nibble, sigh for sigh. He could kiss the woman forever and bask in the heat from her body.
Her fingernails clawed into his back and teased the edge of his jeans. His cock twitched in his tight clothes. Pulling away, he moved his kiss to her neck. “You taste like honey and smell like flowers.”
His words had her hips lifting around his leg.
Dameon smiled and gave her the friction her body asked for.
“I want more than your knee,” she told him.
“Patience . . .”
But Grace wasn’t. That beautiful hand he liked to play with while they sat next to each other eating, or talking . . . or anything slid down his waist and covered his erection through his clothing.
Not to be outdone, Dameon slowly unzipped her slacks and ran one finger over the edge of her panties.
Their eyes caught again.
Grace was smiling and stroking him as he let his fingers reach the folds of her sex.
She bit her lower lip with a moan. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Dameon smiled and cupped her completely. He wanted this to last all night.
“I need . . .”
He didn’t let her finish. His teasing needed more room.
She lifted her hips to aid in him tugging off her pants. He pulled at hers and she worked frantically to get him just as naked. And they kissed. Hot open-mouth kisses mad with desire.
With their clothes lying wherever they were thrown, Dameon teased her sex again. This time she pushed against him and opened to give him better access. “So beautiful,” he whispered above her breasts before taking his time bringing them into his mouth.
“Dameon, please,” she called out as her hand circled the length of his erection.
All thoughts of making this first time last forever vanished. He rested his head on her chest and savored the feeling of her touching him.
She called his name again, and he pulled away long enough to remove a condom from the nightstand by the bed.
Grace touched his hand as he put the condom on. “I’m on the pill,” she told him.
Her words felt like permission to continue without his layer of protection. Her trust didn’t pass him by. But right then, with both of them setting off fire alarms with desire, was not the time for clarification. “I’ll remember that for the future.”
“Okay.”
Grace wrapped her legs around him as he covered her body.
Dameon placed his hands in hers and stretched them over her h
ead. Their eyes never lost contact as he moved into her for the first time.
The sheer look of wonder on her face was something he would never forget.
Her breath caught and her entire body contracted around him.
“God, Grace . . . if you keep doing that I won’t last long.”
Her body did it again. “I can’t help it,” she sighed. Her hips reached for him.
He was going to lose it. He closed his eyes and pushed the desire to release far away where the cold lived and Inuit had sex with their clothes on.
“Please . . .”
C’mon, Dameon, he silently chided himself.
Finding control, he slowly moved, inched deeper, and touched more of her.
Grace pulled his head down to hers and possessed his lips. “Yes,” she whispered, her hips setting the pace. Then, without warning, her sex tightened and her breath caught. His name on her lips as she found release was music to his soul.
He watched her come apart and stopped moving while her body sent pulses through his.
“Damn, Grace.”
Her eyes closed and her breath shuddered. “Your fault,” she said, accusingly with a tiny laugh.
Once she was lax and her eyes opened, he brushed her hair with his fingers.
This was good . . . all of it.
“You look pleased with yourself,” she said.
“Not yet.”
“Oh?”
He pushed into her again. “I want another one from you,” he told her.
She started to laugh, and Dameon started to move.
Grace had fallen asleep.
Her body tucked so close to his, it was as if she were a human blanket. Dameon hadn’t doubted for a second that sex with Grace would be amazing, but he hadn’t expected magical. They fit like pieces of a puzzle, which, as cliché as it sounded in his head, was exactly what it felt like. She matched his energy, his pace, and his appetite.
Dameon lay there stroking her hair as she slept. He knew he was falling. Felt it the moment they properly met. Wasn’t that why he was making a home out of a property he planned on tearing down? To be closer to her. To have an excuse to ask her to come over after work so he could hear about her day, and tell her about his. He liked that part, too.
He’d lived alone since he graduated from college. Never once did he invite a girlfriend to move in with him. He didn’t want the hassle and commitment. But lying next to Grace, and feeling her breath on his chest, he didn’t want her to leave.
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