by Lacey Baker
However, the frilly piece of material hanging from a partially closed dresser drawer quickly caught his attention. Pulling the drawer open enough to slip the garment free, he held it in front of him and groaned. It was almost nothing, in sheer pink, which he was beginning to think was the best color in the universe since it looked so damned good on Heaven. This would look spectacular on her, he knew. It was short, with lace here and there, and the softness against his fingers had the temperature in this room rising uncontrollably.
“Get it together, Cantrell, you’re just torturing yourself,” he mumbled.
About a second before the bathroom door opened and Heaven caught him red handed—or pink-handed if he were being absolutely specific.
“Looking for something to wear?” Heaven asked, surprise and just the barest hint of confusion on her face.
Preston paused a moment, then could only shrug. “Nothing I say is going to come out right,” he admitted.
To that she smiled. “And here I was told you were the smooth one.”
Chapter 11
Preston felt his own smile forming. The fact that she hadn’t yelled at him to get his perverted hands off her clothes and out of her room was very inspiring.
Instead of trying to explain why he had her lingerie in his hand, he thrust said hand forward. “Here, you should put this on.”
She was wearing a robe. It was short and green, a deep hunter green that made him think of Christmas trees and mistletoe. And kissing Heaven beneath the mistletoe. Actually, he was almost positive he wasn’t going to be able to wait six months to kiss Heaven. Her taste still lingered in his mouth from the first time he’d touched his lips to hers. It was an addictive taste, one that called to him quite persistently right this moment. To be more precise, the memory of her taste was yelling at him to try again … once more.
“I should, huh?”
She didn’t move so Preston crossed the room until he stood directly in front of her. “I think you look great in pink.”
The smile that spread across her face was quick and genuine and he couldn’t resist, he touched a finger to her bottom lip. Just a gentle touch and her smile wavered. He watched his finger move over her lip, his body tightening instantly.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Making a memory,” he said without thought. “My grandmother used to say that all actions could be recalled on some level, but when it was something really important you had to focus, to concentrate on keeping that memory intact.”
“You want to remember standing in my room after you just tackled me in the street?”
Her voice had lowered to a whisper, a shiver taking over her body as his finger moved from her lips to her chin, tracing a slow line along her jaw.
“I want to remember that you weren’t hit by that truck. I want to remember you standing here, your skin still moist from the shower so that this flimsy robe sticks to parts of your arm, your upper thigh. I want to remember how soft your lips feel against my finger, and against my mouth,” he finished with his head lowered so close to hers, it would be a crime not to kiss her.
It was like sunshine on the cloudiest of days. Preston rarely ever compared his women, because he knew they were each different. He’d selected them with that fact in mind. Variety was a necessity.
But he hadn’t selected Heaven. In fact, he’d had no idea this was where they’d end up.
Yet with his hands now cupping her face, lifting her just slightly so that her mouth was at the perfect angle, swiping his tongue just so and moaning when her taste filtered through him like a fresh summer’s breeze, he couldn’t really say he hated how things had turned out.
She lifted her hands to his shoulders, letting her fingers dig in as the kiss deepened.
“I don’t know you very well,” she whispered when he’d torn his mouth from hers to drop hungry kisses down the line of her neck.
“You know I’m a man,” he said, kissed her again and moaned. “A single man.”
His hands slid from her face down to her neck, then her arms, where they felt the softness of the robe a few seconds before they went to the belt at her front.
“How about you?” he asked, his mouth still loving the feel of her skin.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he sucked on a particularly tasty spot just beneath her ear. She moaned before replying.
“Ahhh, I’m single too,” she said in a breathy whisper.
The sound was pure bliss, the way her body pressed closer to his at the stroke of his tongue along her earlobe, probably illegal in a few states.
“Crap!” he murmured.
The belt was in some kind of girlie knot that was wreaking havoc on his purely hormonal goals.
As if reading his mind, or possibly becoming just as impatient as he, Heaven let her hands fall from his shoulders and went to help him. Of course she had it undone quickly. When he moaned and pushed the robe aside to wrap his arms around her naked waist, she pressed closer to him. Then she did something he never—in his wildest and most imaginative dreams—would have pictured her doing. She wrapped a leg around his and mumbled something. He hadn’t heard her because her leg had gone from around his leg to up and around his waist in like two seconds and all the blood had drained from his head, making any attempt at rational thought a complete loss.
“Huh?” he heard himself saying and thought for sure he was losing his “smooth” status.
“I said,” she told him, this time cupping his face in hers. “That you’re taking too long.”
Well. Okay. That was … something to be told.
On that note he cupped her bottom and lifted her off the floor. Both her legs wrapped around his waist. “Good girl,” he commended as he turned and led her to the bed.
By the time they got there she’d already pulled his shirt from the waistband of his pants. A nervous giggle escaped as her hands touched his bare skin. When his legs bumped the bed, Preston stopped. He thought about dropping her onto the bed, then setting a world record for how fast he could shuck his clothes, sheath his rock-hard erection, and sink inside her waiting warmth. Then the rational side of his mind took over. The hungry part of his body promised a big fight if mind and body didn’t soon have a meeting of the minds.
He let her down slowly, grasping her wrists in his hands as he did. Now she knelt in front of him while he looked down into wide, excited eyes. She looked like the attractive woman who had come to his door a couple of weeks ago. Then again, she didn’t. There was something wanton and intriguing about her now. Maybe it was her kiss-swollen lips, or possibly the reddening of her skin just beneath her ear where he’d suckled a little too hard.
She licked her lips, and he moaned.
It was definitely the way her tongue looked, brushing over her lips, and the way her gaze held his in impatient fervor.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Preston closed his eyes and once again he groaned. “Nothing.”
“Then—” she began and tried to pull her wrists from his.
“No,” he said shaking his head. “This isn’t how I work. I mean, it’s not usually how I am with women. I’m not normally this—”
“Slow?” she finished. “I should hope not. I’ve heard so much about the Double Trouble Cantrells, but the way you’re acting does not add up.”
No. It wouldn’t. It shouldn’t. This is not how Preston normally acted. It’s not how he normally seduced a woman. Yes! That was it, precisely. Preston loved seduction. He loved the slow, sensual shift into sex, the touches and moans and exploration that ended with a bang to be harvested until the next time.
With Heaven, he’d seen the green light and heard the opening gunshot all in the span of the two seconds it had taken her to walk through that bathroom door. He could blame it on the lingerie that was now somewhere on the floor, but that wouldn’t be true. The truth was he’d wanted her with this urgency since day one.
And for Preston, that was not normal.
&n
bsp; “Okay, well if we’re confessing, I never do this. Ever,” she said, shaking her head as if that would make him believe her more.
It was really hard to keep his gaze focused on her face when her robe was open, her nakedness now summoning him, or at least a very specific part of him. And yes, that part was more than ready to respond as it pressed painfully against the zipper of his pants.
“Are you saying you’re a … umm…?”
He couldn’t even say the word.
“Oh, no, I’m not. I just mean that it’s been a really long time for me. Men aren’t exactly knocking down my door, and even if they were, they’d have to knock down the door to the lab since I spend most of my time in there. But since they don’t I’m not used to the fast or slow pace, really. And that’s probably why I’m being so impatient.” She stopped, inhaled quickly. “I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
He could only nod.
“I have an idea,” Preston offered. “Since we’re both behaving a little out of the norm, let’s try something different.”
“Different how?” she asked skeptically.
“Not that kind of different. Wow, you really are impatient,” he said with a chuckle so the seriously concerned look that had crossed her face would disappear.
“You close your robe and I’ll take off my shoes. We can lie down and talk for a while.” Maybe then he could regroup and get his old groove back. As it was now, he wasn’t quite sure what was going on or who he was at the moment.
“Okay, that sounds like a plan,” she said, already reaching for the belt of her robe. “But, um, could you take off your shirt, too?”
She looked up at him after the request, her gaze almost shy as it dropped to his chest. Almost. The moment she licked her lips, shyness jumped out the window and hunger took a seat in the front row.
“I can do that,” he replied, his own hunger pulling up a seat to sit right beside hers.
* * *
Heaven hadn’t lied. This was very unlike her. She didn’t jump into men’s arms and wrap her legs around them. And for the life of her she’d never remembered moaning as a man cupped her bottom and sucked her earlobe. If she tried really hard, she still wouldn’t have recalled a man ever doing either of those things to her.
In her limited sexual experience, the two times she’d ventured into this realm, the episodes both ended with a few guttural groans and stilted thrusts. Her breasts were always squeezed almost to the point of tears welling in her eyes from pain, and the entire activity had never lasted more than five minutes.
Preston’s sultry kiss had lasted five minutes.
And damn did that kiss have her thighs shaking, her center pulsating, and her mind abandoning all common sense telling her to let this man have his way with her quick, fast, and in a hurry.
She figured it was a good thing he’d been able to grasp rational thought. Or else she wouldn’t have stopped him, she knew that for a fact. Heaven would have had sex with Preston Cantrell. Hell, she still wanted to have sex with Preston Cantrell.
He was unlike any man she’d ever met, and the most desirable thing she’d found about him was that he looked at her as if she were the only female in the world. Each time he stared at her it was as if he wanted to memorize everything there was about her. She remembered what he’d said his grandmother told him. Maybe he wanted to make a lot of memories of her. She didn’t know why and didn’t really feel up to questioning it.
For so long her life had gone according to plan. Then there was the explosion, and she was almost positive that wasn’t on her agenda. Now she was in a small town, adopting a puppy and wanting desperately to have this man she’d just met put his hands all over her naked body.
If that weren’t beyond Heaven’s norm, she didn’t know what was.
What Heaven also knew without a doubt was that her therapist would be so proud of her. Every step she’d taken in Sweetland was a step forward; it was a new direction in a life she’d desperately needed to change. So if she was ready to grab Preston Cantrell by those muscled arms and pull him down on top of her, begging until he made sweet passionate love to her, then there was absolutely nothing wrong with that!
But of course, she didn’t do it.
She lay back on the bed lifting her legs so she could slip them beneath the sheet and fluffy yellow comforter. Her heart did a little flutter as she watched Preston remove his shoes and his shirt, then slip into bed beside her. When she thought they would lie there staring at the ceiling in uncomfortable silence, Preston extended an arm and reached for her.
“Come on over,” he offered cheerfully.
Heaven went willingly, albeit slowly into his embrace, letting her head rest on his bare chest, almost sighing in complete bliss as his arm closed over her shoulder, pulling her even closer. Nestled right there against his warm, hard body was the safest Heaven had ever felt in her life.
“So how are you enjoying your stay in Sweetland?” he asked.
That was an extremely dangerous question. She could tell him how much she was enjoying lying here with him, touching the taut skin of his perfectly toned chest and inhaling his scent that was all masculine, all enticing, all Preston. Or she could say something about how she liked being so close to the water. She couldn’t figure out which one would make her seem more lame.
So she went with something else entirely.
“It was probably a nice place to grow up, I suspect. I’ve never lived in a small town before.”
There was a brief hesitation before Preston spoke again.
“It had its good points and its bad points. I presume all places are like that, whether they’re big cities or small towns.”
“Tell me about the good points,” she encouraged, realizing how much she really wanted to hear Preston’s thoughts on this town he’d—in a roundabout way—brought her to.
“Fitzgerald Park is one of the perks to Sweetland. There’s a great pond there, surrounded by lush green grass and rolling hills. Parker and I spent lots of time down there growing up. And the pier, that’s another of my favorite spots. There’s always something going on down there. Walt’s shipments, like we saw the other day. Walt, he owns The Crab Pot, with the best steamed crabs on the Eastern Shore,” he told her with an air of excitement in his tone.
“Some new spots have popped up down there in the years I’ve been gone. Quinn and Nikki like Amore, the little Italian restaurant down the far edge of the dock. And Parker favors Charlie’s Bar. I think it’s more like Parker favors Walt’s niece, Drew, who hangs out at the bar, but that’s another story all together.”
“I met a woman named Drew the other day. I wonder if it’s the same person.”
“Sweetland is so small, I doubt there’s two people with the same name here. Drewcilla Sidney owns the flower shop down off Main Street. She’s not a native. Michelle said she and her mother moved here a couple of years ago. Her mother is Walt’s sister.”
“Yes, that’s her! She sold me the prettiest sunflowers. I had them right over there on my dresser. I think Coco liked them, too, because she grabbed hold of the tablecloth one day and tugged until the vase tipped over. Water splashed in her face and the flowers landed on the floor. She wasn’t apologetic, no matter how much I argued with her.”
Preston laughed. “I’ll just bet she wasn’t. She can be a handful,” he told her.
“I’m finding that out,” she replied.
Her fingers moved slowly over his chest, just a small motion but one that sent delicious new tingles throughout her body.
“But you’re ready for that, right? Being a pet owner is a big task, a huge responsibility.”
“I’m ready,” she said, thinking she had no choice but to be ready. It was either go out on a limb and try this new thing, or sit in her apartment alone and continue to remember the explosion and the implications that made her look like an accomplice to some type of bioterrorism scheme.
“Sometimes you reach a point in your life where change is the only option,”
she finished, her gaze following her fingers that looked so small and inconsequential on his chest.
Or was it that his chest looked terribly imposing with its size and feel? Could be that was the real problem.
“Depends how you feel about change.”
“I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Do you?”
She could feel him shrug. “I guess it’s necessary at times.”
“What about you? When you found out you’d inherited Coco and came back to the town where you were born, didn’t the thought of moving back here and settling down with that gorgeous puppy cross your mind?”
“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly.
“No you don’t want to move back to Sweetland or no you never thought about it?” She suspected the answer was no to both, but wanted to hear it directly from him.
“My life is in Baltimore.”
“I kind of thought your life traveled with you. I mean, you could just as easily practice law here as you do in Baltimore.”
He inhaled deeply, and she wondered if he was looking down at her in irritation for her questions. She didn’t look up to verify.
“I practice criminal law. The most criminal activity Sweetland’s seen in the last ten years is Hoover running down one of the lampposts on Pinetree Way, then stumbling his drunken self right into the creek down at Yates Passage,” he told her. “All while wearing only his white boxers and black dress socks.”
She laughed. “Nikki said her ex was laundering money with one of the town council members. That sounds pretty criminal-like to me.”
“Yeah, it was. But that kind of stuff doesn’t happen often here.”
“Well, I think at the very least there’s a speeding problem going on. I saw that truck that almost ran me down earlier this evening, and he was going just as fast then as he headed for the pier.”