Unfortunately, she never had much.
“It’s a miracle you wound up so normal,” Roark said after a minute.
“Yeah, I’m normal,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I just ran out on a perfectly good dinner.”
Roark shrugged. “I’m sorry you fired your client.”
“It is what it is. I can’t take it back. And if it bites me in the ass, well, then, there you go. Just one more thing, you know?”
He twisted on the couch and their eyes met. A breath caught in his throat. For the first time in a very long time, Roark saw a softness, a vulnerability in Stephanie that she kept locked away from the world.
“I’ll smooth it over.”
Stephanie raised her eyebrow. “What are you gonna do? Post on Facebook that I rock or something?”
He smiled. “Whatever it takes to keep you looking good.”
She shook her head. “I’m a grown woman, Roark. You shouldn’t have to protect me.” Her gaze darted down to her half-eaten taco.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Why should you have to? I’m not a kid anymore. You and your dad don’t have to run to my house to fix the furnace so I don’t freeze because my mom’s a bonehead. You don’t have to take care of me.”
“I don’t do things for you because I have to,” Roark replied. “I do it because I want to. Because I care about you.”
“You shouldn’t feel obligated to care about somebody, Roark, that’s not how relationships work.”
“I don’t.”
She let out a sigh. “We’ve known each other forever. If you were interested in more, wouldn’t something have happened before now? I mean, we’ll be thirty this fall. Maybe we’re not meant to be more than friends.”
There’s nothing more annoying than logic that made sense. And she had a point.
Why is it so important now? Roark didn’t have an answer. Only now it seemed right, like it was time to do this. “And maybe we haven’t been ready.”
“Oh please. I’ve been ready for years.” Stephanie slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
“Ready for what, Stephanie?” Roark whispered, a tiny spark of hope springing to life in his chest.
“Ready for a good relationship,” she said, not looking at him.
“With who?”
She stood up and started to pace around the living room. “With a good guy. I’ve been ready to have a real relationship with a guy who treats me well for years. That’s what I meant.”
Roark moved into her path, certain she was lying to him. “Any guy will do?”
“Yeah. Any good guy will do,” she said, looking away from him as she spoke.
He put his hand on her shoulder, grazing the exposed flesh under the strap of the dress, and he let his fingers very carefully touch skin, feel the texture.
“Please don’t,” Stephanie said.
“Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not attracted to me.”
She let out a sigh. “You’re cute. I’ve never denied that.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She met his gaze again. “Yes it is. I said you were cute.”
“But that isn’t attraction.”
She reached to brush his hand away, but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist.
“I don’t profess to know why I feel this strongly for you, I just know I do. Maybe it’s been building for years. Maybe it’s a sudden epiphany, I don’t know.” He sounded desperate, and maybe he was. He didn’t know if he could handle her running out on him again.
“We aren’t good for one another,” Stephanie said. “Dinner should have proved that. You shouldn’t have to clean up my messes for the rest of your life.”
“But I want to.” He put his hand on her cheek, turning her head to face him. “Who do we call when we have a problem? Who do we use as default dates all the time?”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Just that we like each other.”
He stared into her moss-green eyes. “I think it means more.” He leaned forward.
Stephanie shook her head. “Roark, I don’t think…”
Roark didn’t stop. Beyond his control, he leaned in, needing, on the most primal level, to kiss her. When their lips touched, every part of him lit on fire. It was powerful—a drug slammed into him like adrenalin, running through every vein, just from the feel of her mouth on his.
He held still for a moment, even though he wanted so much more, before pushing any further. Part of him knew he might be ruining every bit of friendship they had left, but he wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet.
He had to know…
Was this just him? Or did she feel it too?
His gut said she did, and she was being too stubborn to admit it.
He opened his mouth a tiny bit, and Stephanie let out a soft moan just before she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Stephanie…
Hauling her to him, he deepened the kiss. She slid her hands into his hair, fisting the longer pieces, the pull as erotic as the kiss. He held her tight, her body melting into his. He didn’t realize how thin her dress was until he felt her nipples harden underneath as he moved against her. His mouth opened, and she surprised him by diving in with her tongue. He reciprocated the move, and his head went to the right and hers shifted. Their noses brushed as they kissed, rocking their heads back and forth.
Roark ran his hands up and down her spine, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other sliding into her hair.
This was good.
This was what he wanted.
No.
This was what he needed.
Christy floated out of the walls of Roark’s house, shaking her head. What had started as such a nice evening had spun out of control in a moment.
Yet it seemed to be sliding into a better place now.
Thank the stars.
While she wasn’t about to stay with her charge while he became intimate, she hated leaving the premises. Just in case some diaper-wearing nuisance came around. She didn’t trust Cupid, and wouldn’t put it past him to send minions, just to prove his point.
There’d been more than one case where she’d caught minions staking out a house, just waiting for their moment.
Roark and Stephanie were starting to come together. At least Roark now somewhat understood why Stephanie was so worried about them being together.
Instead, Christy floated over to the tree in the front yard, finding perch in the branches. While she wasn’t physically touching the tree, her wings did stir up air, making the leaves flitter as she got situated.
Why oh why had that damn woman showed up? Things had been going so well for them. They were happy, enjoying themselves, until that awful client appeared.
Even their auras were starting to mingle, always a sign things were starting to come together. But as soon as that awful woman showed up—
Cupid.
“Cupid! Get your godly butt down here! Cupid!” Christy yelled.
Cupid appeared at her side. “You need my help?”
Christy pointed at him. “You sent that awful client to the restaurant tonight, didn’t you?”
Cupid merely grinned.
Christy threw her arms in the air. “I don’t get it. Why do you care what I do? What any of the fairies do? We’re no threat to you. Why can’t you just let us do our job and leave us be?”
“And where would be the fun in that?” Cupid asked. And with that, he disappeared, probably going back to his Mt. Olympus home to laugh some more.
Ugh!
She just wanted to strangle him.
How in the world was she going to keep the course now, with Cupid so determined to mess everything up?
Christy sighed, her wings fluttering softly, and little blue sparkles flew all around her. At least
they were in the house now, where Cupid’s minions couldn’t get in. The only saving grace they had—the minions couldn’t enter a house without some open door, unlike a Fairy Godmother, unless there was a cracked window…
Oh, nuts.
She’d better check the house, and make sure no one had snuck in somewhere.
Chapter Twelve
Stephanie clung to Roark. She shouldn’t be doing this—she knew that. It couldn’t end well. Yet no matter how much her logic told her she needed to get away from him, to stop this before it became more, she couldn’t pull away.
She didn’t want to. Blasé as she tried to be, there was no denying Roark’s appeal. He cut an excellent figure in his suit—tall, broad, smallish waist, and a smile that could melt anyone’s icy heart.
Even hers.
And ever since the wedding, it seemed, all he had to do was look at her, and she’d be all tingly, just like a high school girl. Just like she had, that night…
So weird.
As Roark’s kiss slipped off her lips and slid down her neck, she let out a moan. He’d obviously learned a few things since the last time he’d kissed her. Though it had been so long ago, it was difficult to remember, except she’d liked it.
“Your technique has improved,” Stephanie whispered.
He paused. “You haven’t passed out, either…” He nibbled on her earlobe.
“Ungh…”
The memories of that night came back—or rather, what Stephanie could remember. They were fresh because Roark brought it up. One of those things she’d tried to forget. Plausible deniability, and all that jazz.
Yep, she’d been drunk, and practically threw herself at him. What was a guy to do? But be a guy. He kissed her.
Unfortunately, she passed out before anything else could happen. Though right now, she wondered how that had been possible, because Roark’s kisses awakened at least a million senses through her body, making every part of her stand up and cheer.
This wasn’t the best idea, friends going to this level. Being with Roark—she’d never considered it a real thing, something that could actually happen.
Even when he told her he thought they should date, she hadn’t believed he was serious.
She didn’t want to believe it. Dating Roark was just a silly fantasy anyway. After all, they were worlds apart. What girl didn’t dream about her prince coming and sweeping her away? Roark was that—her prince. The one in the childhood fantasies about fairytales and happily ever afters.
The stuff that didn’t happen—not in the real world, anyway.
Roark’s kisses moved down her throat to her chest, and he tasted every part of her exposed anatomy. She could try to deny it all she wanted, but her body wanted more.
She wanted more.
Reasons she didn’t want to acknowledge reminded her why she and Roark would not work out, yet she didn’t want to think about them anymore.
Just once, she could experience him. Touch him. When the morning came, she didn’t have to admit anything.
Right now, though, was just right now. And she had always been one to live in the moment. Fate was throwing her a boon—bringing her here, to this place, with him. Granted, it was a shitty way to get here, but she was here.
With him.
And he wanted her. With every one of his touches, she could feel his want. Hell, it pressed against her stomach as he embraced her.
Even through the thin fabric of the cotton dress, she felt every kiss, as hot and wild if it were on her flesh. To keep herself grounded, she held onto him.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, arching into him as she closed her eyes and just felt. His hands roamed over her hips, down over her bottom, and he continued nipping at her low neckline. Each touch felt magnified, wildly erotic as it blasted over her, out of her control.
So this is what he could do to her—make her feel out of control. She’d never felt so vulnerable, and it scared the crap out of her.
Yet she couldn’t push him away.
Her knees wobbled, and she grabbed his shoulders for balance.
He paused. “Is the wine getting to you?”
“Smart ass,” she muttered.
Roark rose, meeting her gaze. His tie was skewed and loose, shirt rumpled. Broad shoulders moving down to a tapered waist—a man’s waist, not a little boy’s waist.
Had she known he’d grow to be so handsome as he aged? He was quite the hottie when she was in high school, but as he matured, so did his body. Even with his hairline just starting to go back a little, he looked more…
More mature.
More grown up.
More a man.
“Come with me, Stephanie.” He slipped his fingers in her hand and curved them around hers. He touched her cheek. “What if I promised not to bite?”
“You never know, I might like that,” she whispered back, unable to stop herself.
Roark smiled. “I’ll do anything you want. Bite. Kiss. Touch. Thrust. You tell me what you want, I’ll do it.”
“You sound pretty confident you can do whatever I ask.”
“You wanna test me?”
Stephanie raised her eyebrow.
Roark got the wickedest smile on his face. Before Stephanie could stop him, he scooped her into his arms.
“Roark! What are you doing?”
“Taking you to where I can properly act on your instructions.” He glided over the wood floor, carrying her down the hall toward his bedroom.
Using his elbow, he pushed his door open, and Stephanie glanced around. She’d never been in here before. Stunning to her, because she thought she’d been in every room of his house.
As she took the room in, she started to laugh.
Roark paused, looking around. “You laugh at my room?”
Stephanie gestured to the wall. “I wondered where you kept all your personal stuff.” And that’s what the room was littered with. Personal pictures—shots with him and his family, and him and his friends—all framed—in a big collage across from the bed. They were snapshots from his whole life. Like a fancy scrapbook page on the wall. Pictures of his shop, of some of his first perfume mixes, of vacations, everything covered the collection.
Roark glanced around like he’d never seen the place before. “It’s my stuff.” He lowered her to the floor.
Stephanie walked toward the wall—faces she’d grown up seeing. Him as a kid, his siblings, his mom and dad…even his buddies, Bruce and Jason.
“Why don’t you have all of this out there, Roark? Where other people can see it?”
“It’s my stuff.”
“But this is your house.” She turned to look at him and almost jumped when she saw he was right behind her.
“I did not bring you back here to discuss decorating.” His eyes were dark, and she gasped as he pulled her against him.
“So what did you want to do with me?”
He tugged her with him, guiding them both backward. That’s when Stephanie noticed the very large—like California King large—bed. Imperfectly made, with the comforter thrown over the pillows—the way guys make their rooms presentable in that two-second cleaning.
There weren’t any fancy throw pillows in here. The bedframe was black, the furniture was black. The bedding, a steel gray color.
He pulled her against him, their bodies flush. He didn’t waste any time—turned, tossing her onto the bed.
Stephanie landed, started to bring herself to her elbows, and about choked.
Roark stood at the foot of the bed, pulled his tie loose and unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt.
Staring at her with those dark, feral eyes, the usual stormy blue color shifted to something darker, much more primitive.
Stephanie gulped. “Should I be scared?” she asked, trying to break that savage expression. “You look re
ady to take me down.”
He raised an eyebrow as he undid the last few buttons on his dress shirt. “Honey, I think it’s time you got to truly experience a ‘Saturday Night Ride.’” He pulled off his shirt and tossed it across the room, revealing just how well he’d managed to stay in shape in the last dozen years.
“But it’s Thursday.” Her voice surprised her, sounding husky as she said the words.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the lines on his chest, thick hard pectoral muscles, tapering down to a six pack that didn’t have a damn thing to do with beer. The little bit of hair on his chest—in the center, down the front—only accentuated the lines of his incredible shape.
He smiled like he knew she was enjoying the view and puffed his chest out. “The ‘Saturday Night Ride’ works even on the weekdays.”
“Uh huh,” Stephanie said, and blushed, remembering lewd comments made occasionally by him and other wrestlers about the infamous “Saturday Night Ride,” and all the implications the provocative move created. The belly-to-belly pinning combination was as much an insult to the loser as it was a hell of a difficult position to get out of.
Was that what he planned for her? Pinning her so she couldn’t get away? The very thought sent a naughty fire through her.
Holy cow.
Roark climbed onto her, kneeling. “Now,” he said, running a finger down the center of her chest. It caught on her low neckline, tugging the dress open for a second, then released the fabric as his fingers slid down to her belly. “What is it you want me to do?”
“Uh…” She couldn’t begin to imagine how to articulate what she wanted him to do. It was primal, below the surface what she wanted him to do, to say, but the words would not come.
He leaned forward. “I have rendered you speechless.” He nuzzled her neck. “I think I might like that.”
She couldn’t help a soft smirk. “You are terrible.”
“Oh, there’s your voice,” he said, kissing along her jaw. He worked up to her lips, and gave her another one of those earth-shattering kisses that made her writher around on the bed. She arched into him and felt just how excited he was, and he let out a moan.
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