by Jill Shalvis
“Not before the rest.”
She didn’t want to talk to him because she knew that would lead—straight to getting hurt. He’d grow to know her, would realize how terribly unsuited she was for both him and Little Paradise, maybe even realize that she wasn’t a particularly good person, and then it would be over.
But not before her heart got stomped on.
Yes, she wanted him, maybe even in the way he wanted her, but it wouldn’t work, surely he had to see that! All she could give him was her body, not more, please not more.
“Give me the rest, Holly, give me all of you.”
“No.”
What made him want to know her, anyway? He was her polar opposite. He saw the glass half-full, she saw it half-empty. He saw the good in everyone, she was always expecting the worst.
She couldn’t help but wonder what he saw when he looked at her. “Let me get this straight,” she said. “That kiss? It’s going to lead to nowhere?”
“Not unless you’re going to talk to me.”
“About me.”
“Yes.”
No. It was humiliation that had her scooping up more frosting, with two fingers this time, and going at Riley.
He was quick. Catching her wrist, he laughed. “Temper, temper…”
Laughing was his second mistake. Her other hand was free, and she used it, swiping a good amount of the frosting across his jaw. “You made me want you, you…you jerk! And then you brought me here, letting me think that we would…that…” She ran out of steam, realizing she’d just admitted she wanted him more than he obviously wanted her.
He stared at her in shock. But he had amazing regrouping capabilities. And unfortunately for her, she’d forgotten his strength. With little to no trouble, he pinned her back in the corner, both hands held captive behind her back with one of his.
Which left his other free.
Not good.
He stuck a finger in the frosting, slowly, letting her suffer, then smiled down at her, his expression pure trouble. “I’m glad you want me,” he said huskily, chocolate dripping off his jaw. “I want you, too, but apparently I didn’t make that clear enough. I want you, but I want a lot more than a quick roll in the sheets.”
She sucked in a breath. “Not me, that’s all I want.”
“Really?”
Struggling did her no good. Given how he had her arms behind her back, she was at a distinct disadvantage. Not to mention that in this position, her chest was thrust out, slammed up against his.
Her body liked that, too much. She went still.
So did he. Then he brought his finger to the pulse at the base of her neck, stroking it—and the chocolate—down, down, down to where her top began, just above the swell of her breasts.
Against the white cotton material, her nipples thrust out.
At the sight, he made a soft, aching sound. “Then I guess this will have to be enough,” he murmured. “For now.”
“For forever.”
“You’re wrong about that,” he said, making her nervous, because surely he couldn’t read her mind, right? He couldn’t know she’d been starting to dream about him, starting to hope and wonder?
“I should just walk home,” she said bravely. “But it’s dark and dangerous.”
“Princess, looking the way you do tonight, you’re in far more danger from me than anyone on the street.” Then he was back with the chocolate, reminding her that she was his captive. He made another path across the top of one breast, over the soft curve. He made that rough noise again, the one that caused an answering tug from deep within her, a tug that couldn’t—wouldn’t—be denied.
She leaned forward as much as she could and nibbled at the chocolate still on his jaw. Bending his head, he returned the favor, sucking frosting off her skin, as well. Her hands flexed in his, and she couldn’t hold back her shameless whimper for more.
“Good?”
“Just this,” she repeated, absolutely breathless. “Just this. No talking, nothing more. Promise.”
“I never make promises I can’t keep.” One of her straps had slipped over her shoulder again. With a nudge from him, the other fell as well, leaving the cotton just skimming across the top of her nearly exposed breasts.
“I shouldn’t be here.” But she wanted to be, oh, how she wanted to be. She wanted to be in his arms, lost in his touch, in his kisses. She wanted him to make her forget all the impossibilities between them. “Let go of my hands.”
“Why? So you can put the rest of the cake in my face?” But he did let her go, and she concentrated on his shirt, pulling it from his jeans, unbuttoning it to expose his broad, smooth chest.
“I’ve never had fattening sex before,” she said, taking another fingerful of frosting and spreading it across him, down his belly. He had the most amazing stomach, she thought, loving how it quivered when she touched him. Then she dropped to her knees and began kissing it off one little nibble at a time.
“Not fattening sex,” he growled, sucking in a sharp breath when she started on his zipper. “Love. We’re making fattening love.”
“You’re determined to make this complicated,” she said lightly, gasping when he hauled her to her feet, lifting her so that she sat on the counter.
Her skirt, a gauzy, weightless thing, was easily bunched in his hands and pushed up her thighs, which he opened to step between. “Say it,” he demanded. “That you’re giving yourself to me because it’s right, because it’s inevitable, because what we have can’t be ignored or shoved into any category so simple as just sex. Say we’re doing this because you’re giving yourself to me, not because I’m taking, because—”
“Yes,” she whispered, giving in to his glittering eyes, to the need tightening his body, to everything. To all of it.
“Yes, what?”
“You’re going to make me say it?”
“Oh, yeah.” He rocked his hips toward hers and her breath caught. “You’ve got to say it.” His hand stroked up her ribs to her breast. His thumb rasped over her nipple, then again. “I’ve got to hear it.”
“Do you—” Her entire being was centered around what he was doing to her. “Do you always talk so much while you’re doing this?”
He let out a low laugh, which turned into a groan when she pressed her breast into his hand. “Just with you apparently. Tell me, Holly, and I promise you, I’ll find something better to do with my mouth.”
“A promise?”
“One I can most definitely keep.”
“Okay.” She couldn’t help but acquiesce. “We’re making love because I can’t help it. When I’m with you I lose brain capacity at an alarming speed.”
Another low laugh. “Me, too.”
It was the most arousing thing, laughing while being intimate. She’d never done both at the same time before.
She liked it.
“More words,” he demanded.
“I thought you said you’d find something else to do with your mouth— Oh my,” she whispered as he did just that.
“I’ll keep my mouth busy, you use yours to talk to me,” he urged. “Tell me more.”
“Um…okay.” That she could speak at all was shocking. Always in the past, being with someone like him had been about power.
What she was doing now, what he was doing to her, had nothing to do with power at all.
Yet another shock for her awakening heart to absorb. “We’re making love because I want you,” she admitted. “I have to have you.”
“Yes.” And true to his word, he continued to find better uses for his mouth, starting with her neck, kissing it with the most arousing hot, openmouthed kisses, eating off the frosting as he went. His hands slipped beneath her, snugging her up to the most impressive erection she’d ever felt.
“You’re…big.” She wasn’t sure whether she was speaking in wonder or fear.
With a laughing groan, Riley set his forehead to hers. “That’s sort of the idea.”
“How do you know you’ll f
it?”
“Oh, I’ll fit,” he assured her, lifting his head to nip at her lower lip.
She lost more brain cells. “Another promise?”
“Two in a row.” He moved against her again and they both moaned. “A personal record for me.”
“I threw away your condoms.”
“I bought more.”
“Okay. Good.” She bit his neck.
His breathing was uneven and his body was so hard against hers. She set her cheek to his sticky chest. “I don’t know what it all means, Riley. I don’t know.”
“We don’t have to know now, it’ll come.”
He was right. They didn’t have to make any decisions right this minute except for where to put their mouths, their fingers, their bodies. It all seemed so necessary, so right; the heat, the desire, the beginning of feelings too terrifying to put into words. She brushed her mouth over his chest, eating more frosting, pushing at his shirt until it fell to the floor.
He tugged on hers. Her breasts popped free, fully exposing her to his gaze. Fueled by the shaky glide of his hands on her, she moved restlessly against him, slipping her hands inside his jeans, releasing him.
Untaming him.
“Riley,” she breathed, needing, aching, yearning. “Please.”
“Yes. Now.” He pushed her skirt above her waist, and skimmed her panties off to cup her, sliding his fingers into her wet heat and softly stroking until she thrust her hips at him helplessly, until she was shuddering, shuddering, falling apart in his hands, hands he slid beneath her to bring her closer to him.
And then he was opening that new condom, filling her, inch by incredible hot inch. In no time he had her so full she thought she might burst, had her at the cliff ready to plunge, but he held her off, to almost beyond what she thought she could bear. Then he bent close, holding her gaze, whispering her name in a voice filled with awe, and she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t hold back, and she shattered again.
She wasn’t alone this time. As she held on for dear life, completely lost in his arms, he lost himself, too, in her.
Frosting dripped off them to the floor.
10
THE NEXT DAY Riley found out about the offer on the café. He got the news through the grapevine, not an unusual occurrence in town since the grapevine often had more news than the local newspaper.
Which ironically enough, came out that very morning with a nice spread on Café Nirvana. The article touted both Holly and her innovative family-style serving, and Dora’s wonderful home cooking.
There was a nice picture of the front of the café, and another of the newly decorated interior, with a smiling Dora holding a tin of fresh bread and Holly holding a pitcher of ice water. In the background a group of grinning customers held up their empty water glasses—all except Dan, who was pretending to cower back, covering his lap with his hands.
Riley looked down into Holly’s smiling face and felt the now familiar but no less unnerving feeling of drowning in those eyes, in her smile, her heart.
And after last night, he was sure she felt the same way.
Or pretty sure.
It was late morning now. Due to an altercation between two neighboring ranchers—who were fighting over a downed fence and a misplaced pig, which Riley had had to help capture—he was late getting into town.
Late and filthy.
He had a mountain of paperwork to face, maybe even two mountains. But he could think of little else than last night, when he and Holly had initiated his kitchen in the joys of food fights and making love.
The countertop had been only the beginning, after which they’d moved to his table, then eventually his bed.
Holly hadn’t stayed the night. He’d wanted her to, but she’d given him the animal excuse.
They needed to be let out and fed.
He knew better. She was terrified of him and the feelings he evoked.
Well, they were even there, but with that terror came an undeniable warm and fuzzy feeling.
Now there was an offer on the café, from a couple out of Tucson, and his heart, warm and fuzzy only a few hours before, went cold.
Holly was now free to leave.
Forgoing his office, he went straight across the street. It was between lunch and breakfast thankfully, so the place was quiet.
“Hello?” he called, walking past the counter into the empty kitchen, his intentions being to take Holly straight into his arms and kiss her senseless.
Then demand she stay.
No, that wasn’t right. Of course that wasn’t right. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, demand anything of her. Ever. She had a life to lead and he would leave her to do that, as she saw fit. Which meant she’d probably go as far from Little Paradise as she could get.
And he couldn’t blame her, not simply because they had different hopes and dreams.
The only person in the kitchen was Dora. She had the makings of lunch scattered across the countertop, her forehead wrinkled in concentration as she chewed on her gum with the subtlety of a freight train.
“Hey, Sheriff.” She sent him a wink and a grin. “You look hungry. Busy night?”
When he paused at the loaded question, she burst out laughing. “Now that’s the same look I got from Holly when I asked her. Sort of embarrassment, satisfaction and bafflement all at once. Imagine that. Wonder what put that look there?”
“Very funny.”
“Yeah.” She sobered. “Did you hear? We got an offer on this place. They said all the employees can stay on. All two of us, that is, me and Steve.”
“I’m very happy for you, Dora.”
“But you’re not happy for you.”
He tried to look casual and probably failed miserably.
“I know.” She sighed. “She’s outside.” She hitched her head toward the back door. “She’s talking to Buster, the dog she doesn’t own, while being watched by Harry, the cat that’s not hers.”
“Thanks.” He stepped outside, into the small yard where Marge used to grow herbs.
Holly was hunkered down by an empty bowl, a hose in one hand, her other embedded in Buster’s fur.
He was licking her cheek.
“Hey, that’s my job,” Riley said.
Holly didn’t move, didn’t turn to face him, and that’s when he realized she was crying.
Crying.
His stomach somewhere near his shoes, he stepped off the steps and came around, watching as Buster licked off another tear.
Before he could say a word, there came a ringing, which he realized originated from the cell phone hooked on her belt.
She sniffed, kept her gaze averted, and answered the phone. “Hello? Yes, Mother, I heard about the offer. An inspection this afternoon?…Of course I’ll be ready, but I wanted to talk to you…I know, you’re busy, but this is really important…It’s just that I’ve come so far with the café, I was hoping you’d come out and see…”
The hose in her hand filled up the empty water bowl. It stared to overfill. Buster played in it.
Riley stood stock-still, anticipation humming through him because it sounded like Holly didn’t want to rush out of town.
“I know it’s not convenient,” Holly said. “But it’s not like I’m in the Sahara Desert. Yes, I realize you have to get off the phone now, but I just wanted to tell you, I don’t think it’s the right time to sell. I really want to—”
Riley held his breath, willing her to just get it over with, to put him out of his misery and say she couldn’t wait to leave this rinky-dink town. But even as he thought it, his heart ached.
He didn’t want her to say it at all. He wanted the opposite. Somehow, some way, he’d come to realize she was nothing like his mother, was nothing like the woman he’d thought, who could never handle a place like Little Paradise.
Holly could handle it, she had handled it.
She belonged here.
“Mother? Hello? Hello? Dammit!” Holly yanked the phone from her ear and hit a series of numbers, waiting i
mpatiently.
Riley waited, too. Could she really want to stay?
“Mother,” Holly said in relief a moment later. “I just wanted to tell you, the café is in great shape now.” She spoke at the speed of light. “I was thinking we could actually sort of keep it in the family… Yes, I know you’re not interested in the food business, but— Yes, I also know I’ve always gotten bored with things in the past and never saw them through, but this is different…Mother, you’re not listening very well—”
Riley grabbed the phone from Holly’s ear and put on his most polite voice. “Hello, Mrs. Stone. This is Riley McMann, sheriff of Little Paradise.”
Holly stared at him in horror. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Trust me,” he whispered back, but she grabbed at the phone.
“Trust you to ruin my life?” she whispered furiously. “No, thank you.”
He merely used his height to his advantage.
Holly gave up and closed her eyes. “My life is over.” She meant it. Her mother would not understand that Riley was trying to help her.
Holly hardly understood it herself.
“Yes, ma’am, I do realize you were talking to your daughter,” she heard him say. “But I think you should know, Holly has done a marvelous job here. She’s changed the serving style and it really works. She got a huge spread in the paper this morning and the café is— No, she’s not paying me to say this!” Shocked, he looked over at Holly.
Holly couldn’t help it, she laughed coldly. “That’s my mother.”
“Look, Mrs. Stone, I’m trying to tell you—” His jaw tightened. “Yes, I’m really the sheriff—”
Oh, her mother was in rare form this morning. Now she’d insulted Riley, the only man in Holly’s entire life to…to what? To get past her defenses? To make her see herself in a way she’d never seen herself before? To make her want things she had no business wanting, things like a white wedding dress and a picket fence?
Last night had been the most amazing—and terrifying—night of her life. Riley had shown her things she’d never dreamed of. He’d coaxed her in that soft, sexy voice to both say and do things she’d never imagined, and all that before the most incredible sexual experience of her life.