“I forgot some paperwork. What about you?”
The drill whined again. Connie didn’t think he was going to answer. But when the last screw was in, he turned to her. “I was having a bad day. I wanted to build something.”
“Oh.” Which still didn’t explain why he was at her house. He owned a construction company, for God’s sake. He was building things all over.
He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead. David’s white undershirt clung to his chest. His expensive-looking slacks, streaked with dirt and now expensive-looking rags, hung low on his hips. Her mouth watered, until she realized something was missing.
Connie darted a glance at the cloth in Milo’s mouth, her pulse kicking up a beat. “Um, what did you do with your shirt?”
“I hung it over the fence.” He shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket and bent over to pick up the hammer. Connie’s gaze zeroed in as his slacks pulled taut over his firm behind. He did have a really nice butt. “I didn’t realize your goat would think my six-hundred-dollar shirt would be more appetizing than his bowl of food.”
She winced. Food didn’t seem to be Milo’s primary motivation. Wreaking havoc did. Standing, Milo picked up his prize and strolled to one tire in a row of them, hopped in the middle, and lay down, one hoof resting on the rubber rim.
“Where did those tires come from?”
“I brought ’em.” With a grunt, David hefted the wood frame upright. Two temporary blocks of wood attached at the base of each post kept the three-sided frame standing. “They came from one of our tractor-trailers. I read that goats like to play on them.”
Now Connie was really confused. David had read up on goat behavior? When he decided to build something, he did it first-class. Looking around the forty-by-forty-foot square enclosure, she admitted Milo needed more. Whatever sort of goat-house David was building would be a nice addition. Maybe a little goat playground.
She bit her lip. “How much is all this going to cost? The wood, the tires, your time…”
Slowly, he straightened. His face, already red from the sun and heat, went darker. “You want to pay me?”
“Well, I can’t accept—”
“Can’t accept a favor from the town asshole. Don’t want to be indebted to him.” He took a step toward her, and then another.
“I didn’t say that.” Her chest grew tight. Frankly, she didn’t like being indebted to anyone, but she had to admit to herself that he had a point. She especially didn’t want to owe David Carelli.
“You didn’t have to.” He walked right up to her, only the thin width of the fence separating them. His breath brushed her cheek. “I can read you like a book. The high-and-mighty Connie Wilkerson is afraid of getting her hands dirty by associating with the likes of me. Isn’t that right?”
Fury, hot and biting, erupted out of her. “Screw you, David. Has it never even occurred to you that I just don’t like you? Are you so arrogant that you can’t imagine that my dislike is based on your personality and not my prejudices?” She was practically spitting by this point. “Of course you’re that arrogant. You can take your tires and your”—she flapped her hand at the frame—“manger, and get the hell off my property.”
She turned to go, wanting nothing more than to slam the door on him, on this whole chapter in her life. But her rage was nothing in comparison to his.
In one fluid motion, David grabbed the top two-by-four of the fence and jumped, pulling himself up and over. His biceps flexed and bunched. His white tee shifted, exposing a strip of hard, flat stomach as he twisted his legs to the side. Small clouds of dirt billowed out around his shoes when he landed not two feet from her.
The heat in her belly settled a little bit lower. She peeled her eyes off his incredible body and focused on his face. That didn’t help. David was always a good-looking man. But when his temper was up and he eyed her like a lion about to take down a gazelle, he was scorching. She tried to regroup, tried to remember just why she was the offended party, but he didn’t give her time.
“Don’t walk away from me.” Grabbing her shoulders, he tugged her into his damp chest. “It’s time we had this out, once and for all.”
Clenching his biceps, she licked her dry lips. Her chest brushed against his with every rapid breath she took, the friction scattering her thoughts. His gaze trapped hers, his eyes as hard as the first ice on a winter pond. Unbidden, her body pressed closer, into his heat, and just like that, the ice cracked.
One of his hands dug into the bun at the back of her head, the other snaked down her back and gripped her butt, rocking her pelvis into his. She might have moaned. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was it had been years since she’d been that turned on.
“When is your father getting back?” He tugged at her hair when she didn’t answer. “Will it be a while?”
She nodded. She’d forgotten where her dad said he was going, but she remembered he wouldn’t be back until after dinner.
“That’s all I needed to know.” He lifted her so she had no choice but to wrap her legs around his waist, and crashed his mouth onto hers.
Chapter Seventeen
He stumbled up the porch steps, almost dropping Connie as he found his footing. This would work better if he looked where he was going, but that would require taking his mouth off of hers. Wasn’t going to happen.
Pushing through the back door into the kitchen, he headed for the stairs. At least he knew the layout of this type of house. He’d built enough of them. As long as she didn’t leave crap lying on the ground, they’d be good. He took the stairs two at a time, pausing at the top to come up for air.
He rested his forehead against hers, felt her breasts rise and fall against his chest. All his anger and frustration had melted away the moment she’d opened her mouth to him. Wrapped her legs around him. Accepted him.
Connie Wilkerson was in his arms, and he was about to take her to bed. His head grew light, and he leaned back against the wall, his shoulder knocking a picture frame off its hook. The painting hit the carpet with a muffled thud.
“Haven’t changed your mind, have you?” Her voice was a husky whisper, and it tugged at something deep inside him.
Gripping the backs of her thighs, he hefted her so she sat higher, could feel just how much he wasn’t about to change his mind. “What do you think?” Spinning, he pressed her into the wall, her knee knocking a vase full of silk flowers off a console table. It bounced off the carpet and rolled a couple of feet, but didn’t break. “Shit, I’m destroying your house.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re a contractor.” Grabbing him behind the head, she dragged his face to hers. She licked along his bottom lip before plunging her tongue into his mouth. He shuddered as desire ripped down his spine.
Dear God, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. David hadn’t thought that possible.
Wedged between his body and the wall like she was, he was able to let go of her thighs and explore. Skimming his palms up her sides, he cupped her breasts, let the slight weight fill his hands. He circled his thumbs around the hard tips that poked through her bra and blouse. Releasing his mouth, she leaned her head against the wall and sighed.
Well, that wouldn’t cut it. Sighing was all very well and good, but he needed Connie to scream. He’d waited so damn long for this, for her, and he didn’t want their first time to be just nice. Maybe he’d allow that for their hundredth time together. Maybe.
Lowering his head, he sucked at the patch of skin below her ear, scraped his teeth down her throat until he reached the hollow of her collar bones. Her low moan vibrated against his lips, and he smiled.
Gathering her close, he took a step away from the wall and strode to the master bedroom. An impression of white walls and furniture, some navy accents, seeped into his consciousness before he lowered her to a snowy duvet. Staring down at her, he tried to control his ragged breathing. She was beautiful. Always had been to
him, but even more so in this moment with her flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes. Only one minor flaw.
He made quick work pulling the elastic from her hair, freeing it from that tight bun. He spread out her locks, loving the contrast of her dark hair against the white bedspread. Now she was perfect. He settled on top of her, his mouth seeking hers, that brief separation of their bodies almost too much to bear.
Sweet. She tasted so damn sweet. He explored her mouth, tangled his tongue with her own. She returned the kiss with equal desire, something he hadn’t thought possible. His body ached, needing more. But he kept it slow, stayed focused on Connie, until he couldn’t take it any longer. With one last nip at her lips, he moved to her ear, traced the delicate arch with his tongue, and sucked the lobe into his mouth.
She arched her hips. “Oh God,” she breathed. “That feels so good.”
Getting to his hands and knees, he straddled her body. “You’re going to feel a whole lot better.” He unbuttoned her shirt, let her raise herself to her elbows to help shimmy it off, before pressing her back into the fluffy cotton spread with another scorching kiss.
Needing to feel her, skin on skin, he tugged his own shirt off. He gave half a second’s thought to how sweaty he’d become working in her yard, but pushed the idea of a shower to the back of his mind. They were both about to become a whole lot sweatier. And Connie wasn’t complaining.
Her bra was a pale purple, two lace triangles that did nothing to hide the dusky nipples beneath. He nuzzled his cheek against her breast, loving the feel of that soft swell.
With a huff, Connie tucked her fingers under the band and pulled the lingerie over her head. “For someone who seemed in an all-fired hurry to get me to bed, you sure are taking your sweet time now that you’ve got me here.”
He wanted to respond. Really he did. But her breasts jiggled delightfully with her movements, only inches from his face, and his throat closed. She was small and perfect and looked absolutely delicious. Mouth watering, he kissed the tip of each breast, and nibbled on the soft skin beneath.
Pushing the hem of her skirt up to her waist, he fumbled with the elastic of her pantyhose. His mind couldn’t focus on the task, not when it was so happily distracted by the velvety skin beneath his mouth. He pulled back, just enough to see the top edge of her pantyhose and underwear, get a good grip, and tear them down her legs, pulling her pumps off as he went.
He throbbed against his zipper, the feeling bordering on pain, but he ignored it, awestruck at the long expanse of silky skin. Connie was a tall woman, with legs that seemed to go on forever. He brushed his fingers up her calf and behind her knee, watched as a shiver raced through her body. His hands had developed some callouses this past week, and she seemed to enjoy the coarse touch.
Her breath hitched when he trailed his fingers high up her inner thigh, and he met her wide-eyed gaze. Lust was there, no doubt. And a little bit of wonder. What killed him was the sliver of wariness he could see in her eyes. The knowledge that it was David Carelli making her feel this way, and maybe she shouldn’t be enjoying it.
Crawling over her, he took her mouth again, needing to reassure her. He settled his hips in the cradle of her thighs and rocked into her, his movements as gentle as his lips. He tried to show her that he would never hurt her. Whatever his past misdeeds, this was Connie, and he’d do anything for her. But she had no way of knowing how long he’d cared.
She skimmed her hands down his back, her every touch setting off tiny shocks in his nerve endings. When she reached his pants, she dug her fingers into his ass and pulled him into her heat.
He grunted. Well, okay then. The lady was impatient. After one last taste, he reared up to his knees and worked at the button and zipper of his pants.
Her hands covered his before he could yank off his boxer briefs. “Wait. Uh, I don’t have…”
Her cheeks turned pink, and the flush spread to the top of her chest. He traced the path of her blush down her neck, letting his fingertips skate over her heated skin. Damn, she was cute. Standing by the side of the bed, he shucked his pants and underwear, grabbing his wallet from the back pocket before tossing his clothes to the ground. He pulled a creased square foil from the leather before crawling back over her.
Yes, he was one of those guys who always carried a condom. But in his defense it was a couple months old. And from the relief that softened Connie’s face when she saw the protection, it didn’t appear that she’d hold it against him.
She waited until he’d covered himself before reaching for him. Running her hand up and down his length, her mouth rounded in a sexy little “O,” and David almost exploded right there. The tendons in his neck tightened until they felt as if they would snap as he let her explore, and he could stand it no longer.
Taking her hand, he laced his fingers with hers and pressed it to the bed by her head. He grasped her behind the knee and settled between her thighs, before pinning her other hand to the duvet, as well. Now that he was here, now that she’d accepted him into her bed, into her life, he couldn’t let her get away.
She wrapped her other leg around his hip, nudging his erection with her core. The heat rolling off of her short-circuited his brain, and acting on instinct alone, he slid home with a groan.
* * *
David’s weight bore down on her, a comforting pressure that could only be produced by a man’s body lying heavy against her own. His chest was smooth and slick against her skin. His heat surrounded her like a warm blanket. Connie didn’t get many perfect moments in life, but this was pretty darn close.
She wanted to reach up and stroke his face, but his hands had an iron grip on hers, keeping her immobile. Something about that made her feel safe, too.
She sucked in a breath as he bottomed out. He paused, letting her adjust to the intrusion. He brushed his lips over her eyelids, her nose, before taking her lips in a sweet kiss. The feeling of being cherished, by David Carelli, was so strange her brain fuzzed around the edges. For a moment, it was like she was looking down at another couple, some other woman who had accepted David into her body.
Her breath caught in her lungs. She was having sex with David Carelli. A man she’d hated for half of her life. A swell of panic threatened to overwhelm her just as David began to move. He rocked against her, his thrusts shallow, even, and controlled. Each nerve ending he scraped against hummed with pleasure, and she choked back a whimper. At least one of them was in control. Her heartbeat slowed from its sprint as her body instinctively picked up the rhythm and moved with his.
He slid their hands up above her head and shifted. The new position allowed David to hit a new place deep inside. Lowering his head, he licked into her ear, and the twin sensations made her melt. All her muscles softened until she was nothing but a pliant bundle of sensation. David’s tongue, the way he filled her, it all combined to leave her mindless. She didn’t worry about her reputation in town. She didn’t care about the lawsuit, or if she should take the new job. She felt, and that was enough.
And, Jesus, did she feel. It shouldn’t have surprised her that David was as good at this as he was at everything else. But it did. If she’d thought about it at all, she would have assumed he’d be selfish in bed, only in it for his own release. But his focus was on her. He responded to her smallest intake of breath, to her slightest moan.
His strokes became longer, harder, and her inner walls cried out for release. Her head thrashed from side to side. She struggled in his grip, her body needing to set its own pace, but David squeezed her hands tighter, and rested his forehead against hers.
“Oh, God,” she panted. Hoping to bring him deeper, bring herself relief, she raised her knees higher up his sides. David only chuckled, but kept his pace even, the sadistic bastard. She clutched her inner muscles hard around him, praying that would ease the ache.
David growled. Out-and-out growled, and a shiver of pleasure raced up her spine. He trapped her gaze, his eyes burning into hers like dry-
ice, and her heart stutter-stepped. Determination and a thread of vulnerability were laid bare on his face. He hid nothing. Not the hope he felt. Nor the possessiveness. He looked up and down her flushed body, and his grip on her hands tightened further.
He took her mouth, this kiss nothing like the sweet ones before. His tongue invaded every corner, his teeth scoring her lips. His breath determined her own. He owned her mouth, like he owned her body, and all Connie could do was hang on for the ride. He built her, higher and higher, until she was gasping for air and squirming beneath him.
Sweat dripped from his chest onto her collarbone. “Come for me, Connie.” His hips pistoned into hers. “I need you to come for me.”
Well, she needed that, too. Her body ached with the need. And she was so damned close…
Her blood rushed through her veins, her pulse pounding so loudly in her ears she no longer heard their harsh breathing. Lowering his head, David sucked on the patch of skin where her neck met her shoulder, bringing her blood to the surface. He sank his teeth into the tender flesh, just hard enough to sting.
Her body shuddered, and waves of pleasure crashed through her. “David!” A cry tore from her raw throat. She closed her eyes, and let the bliss consume her.
He waited until her body stopped trembling before groaning out his own release. He collapsed at her side, his body still lying half on top of her, his face buried in her mess of hair. His breath puffed against her neck, and when it finally evened out, he flopped onto his back.
Now that the flood of endorphins was ebbing, doubt crept in. She stared at the ceiling, knowing her life had irrevocably changed. She’d slept with the enemy. And it had been amazing.
But she might have just killed her career, just lost the respect of everyone in her community. She might have found the man of her dreams.
Why Did It Have to Be You? Page 18