by Debbie Burns
“About the same as Sophie’s last park walk, three and a half, maybe four miles,” Megan said from behind them.
“Do you honestly think this little dog can make that distance?”
She smiled mischievously as he turned to give her a private wink. “If she starts pawing at your legs, that means she wants you to carry her. That’s why I picked her for you. I thought that casual look of yours today would be well-paired with a purse puppy.”
Bringing up the rear, Reese belly laughed. “Maybe my dog can give yours a ride, Dad.”
Chapter 16
One word tickled Megan’s ears two days after her late-night call with Craig, making her stomach flip and her heartbeat flutter. It kept popping into consciousness at different times, sending a rush of warmth over her skin and making her palms sweat.
Otherwise.
Otherwise what? He didn’t clarify because he didn’t need to. She understood the answer as well as he did. And it scared the hell out of her.
Pacing her living room wasn’t helping as the sun inched toward the horizon Sunday evening. Over the last two days, she’d cleaned every square inch of her place. Even organized a few drawers and her bedroom closet. She’d bathed, shaved, flossed, and perfumed. In case. Slipped into her sexiest matching bra and panties, then—after a half hour of debate—covered them up with a pair of worn lounge pants and a cozy sweater. She didn’t want to look ready for the otherwise.
Glancing at the microwave clock—6:16—Megan felt her stomach flip again. Had he taken the kids back yet? Maybe he wouldn’t even call. Maybe he’d changed his mind. He hadn’t said anything yesterday at the shelter or on the walk. There hadn’t been an opportunity.
Still, there’d been the way he looked at her when his kids weren’t watching. Like he was aching for the otherwise.
Clenching and unclenching her fists, Megan headed out the sliding glass door onto her back patio. The cool evening air that filled her lungs helped relax her a bit. Moxie followed her, twitching her tail as she meowed at the birds hopping from branch to branch in the thin strip of woods a few dozen feet away.
Leaning down, Megan scratched the base of the cat’s tail. “You’d know what to do, wouldn’t you? What am I saying? You’re a love sponge. You’d jump his bones the first chance you got. However, you’re spayed so you’d just want a good rubdown or something.”
You’ve reached a new low, Megs. Soliciting relationship advice from your cat. Sinking to the concrete slab, she pulled a potted plant—frozen in its wintry death—toward her. She plucked off the brittle leaves one at time like she was plucking daisy petals.
She’d talked to Ashley ten times since Friday night. If she called her friend again, she’d not only interrupt their dinner, but she’d hear the same advice. Have fun. Lock your heart away. Call me in the morning.
Ashley didn’t get it though, and Megan hadn’t been able to explain it to her. Make her understand the immensity of the otherwise. It’d be like trying to explain the vastness of the Grand Canyon to someone who’d never been there.
Through the still-open sliding door she heard the thin, high ring of her doorbell. This far away, it seemed like a trick of the imagination. Moxie made it clear it wasn’t, tucking her tail and flying inside and under the couch where she always hid when the bell rang.
Megan’s stomach lurched as she stood up. What if she puked before he kissed her? While he was kissing her? Attempting to shake the tension from her shoulders, she made her way to the front door on shaky legs. Pretend you aren’t here. Don’t open it. If you do, everything’s going to fall apart.
The little voice was still screaming as she turned the lock and pulled the handle. Craig was standing on the other side of the threshold, staring at her with eyes as blue and clear as any she’d seen.
He wasn’t smiling. Or maybe he was smiling a hint of a smile. Megan opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. Her pulse was pounding so intensely behind her ears that she couldn’t hear a thing.
She backed up a half foot and stared as he pressed her door open the rest of the way. Oh God, say something. Stop this. Because he won’t. You know he won’t.
He closed strong fingers over her wrist, keeping her from backing up farther and sending a wild shiver racing up her arm.
“This isn’t…” Nothing else would come out. She wasn’t strong enough to stop him. Or maybe she needed him too much.
He let out a breath as his other hand slipped into her mass of hair. The smile that wasn’t a smile disappeared as he leaned in. Their lips met, softly at first. Then harder. Then urgently. Something akin to a laugh welled in her throat and froze. How could he have denied her this for so long? His lips and tongue were perfection. It was like a dance, kissing him.
He pulled away long enough to look at her, then pressed her against the foyer wall. The second kiss zapped the breath from her lungs. His hands abandoned her hair to tug up her sweater. He let out a groan when they came into contact with her skin.
How many times had she appreciated just looking at him? Allowed herself to imagine what he’d feel like? Now her body melted into his, and she struggled to commit the sensation to memory.
His lips traveled over her neck, and she seemed to be slipping away from her body. Don’t blow this by fainting, Megs. She needed to focus. Focus on something besides the wetness of his mouth on her skin and the strength of his hands on her body. His strong, muscular hands. A moan filled the narrow space between them as his lips traveled over the hollow of her neck. Had it come from her? She wasn’t sure.
She felt him tugging at her sweater and raised her arms to let him pull it off. Their eyes met for the first time since the kissing started. He grinned, a lopsided one she’d never seen, before the distance between them disappeared again and her shoulder took a turn experiencing the pleasure of his mouth.
The rattling engine of a car speeding down the street pierced through the sound of the blood pulsing behind her ears. The door. It was wide open, and she was in her foyer—in her bra—making out with the hottest guy in the world. Craig swung the door shut with one hand, not looking, his mouth not budging from her skin.
And then he was dragging her to the floor.
The floor. Holy crap. This wasn’t just kissing. This was happening here. Now. Her shoulder was pressed against the wall, and the cold tile of the entryway seeped up through her pants as he lowered on top of her. She grasped for some sort of protest, but words evaded her. She’d never done anything this spontaneous before. Ever.
And damn the decision to wear lounge pants. They offered no resistance. The feel of his hands on her hips—sliding down the underwear that matched the bra he wasn’t even paying attention to—was brain-numbing. Reservation melted, and words leaped further away as his hands raked her skin. Any last hint of reasoning abandoned her.
Lacking his fluid precision, she tugged at his clothes, yearning to connect with flesh. Ignoring his shirt, she went for his pants as he found her neck again, distracting her. He had a belt, a button, a zipper. When this was over, she’d burn them.
As she tugged down his zipper, an alarm blared in her mind. “Wait. Hold on.” She struggled to keep hold of the words. Of the warning she’d felt. His hands weren’t ceasing their exploration. “Birth control may not be an issue, but there are diseases.” Thoughts were melting into sensation. “Are you sure…”
“I’m sure.” He pulled back enough to look her in the eye. “I’m clean.”
She felt herself making a small nod. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”
“You’re too damn honorable not to tell me if you weren’t.”
Then he was kissing her again, and her case for protection felt like a small item at the bottom of a long-forgotten to-do list.
The moment he was free, he entered her. One second they were two people; the next, they were one. The cry of pleasure that echoed through the hallw
ay didn’t sound like hers, but she knew it was.
His thrusts were desperate, pressing her tighter against the wall and matching the urgency welling inside her. She clamped a hand around his hip, wanting him closer. Her free hand groped his body, hungry to experience taut muscles covered by smooth skin.
It was so much to handle, wanting him the way she did. She wanted more. Knew she’d never have enough. Not of him.
Afterward, he brushed back her hair and laughed while still inside her, heightening the intimacy of their connection. His laugh, deep and low, rolled on like a clap of thunder, muffling once he buried his head in the crook of her neck.
“I’m sorry.” He rose so his face was even with hers, his eyes shining, and he laughed again. “I’d ask if I can come in, but I’m not sure you’d find it funny.”
She watched his gaze land on the trail of a tear that had slipped from the well beneath the surface. He dried it with his thumb, then traced her jaw. She racked her brain for something to say, but everything paled in comparison to the one thing she couldn’t find the strength to say. I’m afraid. More than afraid. Terrified.
“I had plans,” he continued, letting his fingers trail to the hollow of her neck. “Romantic ones, believe it or not. They just fell by the wayside when I saw you. It’s been like a jail sentence, wanting you like this and having to hold back.”
She swallowed hard, trying to swallow away the fear with it. The adrenaline was waning, and she was coming to her senses, realizing what they’d done. It had happened so fast. Her pants and underwear were knotted around one ankle. Her bra hadn’t been touched.
What would happen now? Where could they possibly go from here? Panic was building inside her. Had they blown this, this thing they could be together? Undefined sex. Was there anywhere to go now but apart?
“Hey,” he said, splaying his fingers against the side of her face and forcing her to look at him. “It’s okay, Megan. It’s going to be okay. As a matter of fact, it’s going to be more than okay.” He closed the distance between them with a kiss, a gentle one. Ended it by nipping at her lower lip.
“And this…” he said, chuckling again, shaking his head. “I’m going to spend the rest of the night making this up to you. Promise.”
She gnawed her lip as his hand left her face and slipped her bra strap off her shoulder. His mouth danced across the swell of her breast as his thumb trailed the lace edge of her bra.
“Hey, nice bra.”
With that, she started to laugh.
* * *
A soft thud roused Craig awake. He’d been drifting off. Glancing around the dark room from the cozy nest that was Megan’s bed, he made out the shape of one of the cats on top of the dresser. Another thud. It was the cat, he realized, knocking his belongings off the counter. His watch, wallet, and phone lay in a pile on the floor.
He got the message. He wasn’t supposed to be here. The cats had paced outside her closed door for the first few hours, slipping their paws underneath and rattling it. Finally, the intensity of all he and Megan were doing wore down, and she’d gotten up to let them in.
She’d been talking about making something to eat when she drifted off, nestled in the crook of his arm. They’d missed dinner—had had sex right through it.
The dull hum of electricity, though muted, was still flowing over his skin. He was happy. Satisfied. In a way he hadn’t been in a long time. He wanted to stop time, to savor it, since he knew how quickly this phase passed.
If he was lucky, he could draw it out from mere days to weeks or a month, this first bit of exploration. This little piece of heaven before the world settled in. Before they’d face the trickiness of fitting her and Reese and Sophie into a more complicated picture.
With nothing else of his to knock off the dresser, the cat pounced to the floor and batted his phone around the carpet. Refusing to be baited, he slid his hand over Megan’s stomach. Her bare, silky skin roused his senses immediately. She was fit and had curves in all the right places, mouthwatering curves. There was also a softness about her that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Around her smooth hips and along her thighs.
He slid his hand over Megan’s hip and down her thigh. As he was hoping, that stirred her awake.
She swallowed and blinked her eyes, lifting her head just enough off his shoulder to look at him in the darkened room.
“Hey.” She ran her fingers through her hair, sweeping it from her face. “Guess I fell asleep.”
“I guess you did.”
He closed his hand over the back of her leg and pulled their bodies close. With skin pressing onto skin, his blood pulsed wildly once more.
She bit her lip, half smiling, half groaning. “Aren’t you tired? My muscles feel like wet noodles.”
“No, not yet.” He smoothed back her hair and kissed behind her earlobe. He felt like a schoolboy, unable to keep the smile off his face to save himself. “Not the least bit, in fact.”
Pressing her to the bed, he rolled on top of her, letting his mouth stay lost in her neck. He had no idea a woman’s neck could stir him to life like this. Make him forget everything.
Sucking in a breath, she ran her fingers over his cheek, then along his shoulder and down his back. “You… Wow. I didn’t see sexual superpowers listed on your résumé when I was Googling you, so is there any chance you took one of those libido-inducing pills before coming over?”
He laughed and rose up on his hands to look at her. The room was so dark that he had to strain to make out the smile curling her lips, but the whiteness of her teeth was like a beacon in the night. “No, but if you’d like me to, I’d consider it. What you’re seeing tonight stems from a handful of years of enjoying next to nothing.”
“Ouch.” She nipped at his lower lip between his words. “Sounds like that might have some side effects.”
He wrapped one hand around her hip and rolled over, pulling her on top of him. “Mmm, it’s like secondhand smoke. It’s going to keep you up all night as well.”
She sat back and ran her hand along his stomach, waking individual muscles as if stroking keys on a keyboard. “I could think of worse things.” Her voice was low and husky, heightening his desire.
He cupped a hand around each side of her face. An unlikely mix of feelings slid over him—desire keeping time with anxiety. “I can’t let you fall asleep.” He tried to keep it playful, but he could hear the desperation slipping into his words, calling him a liar. “’Cause if you do, I will too. And what happens if I wake up and find you’re just a dream?”
It was such a fluid movement—their bodies becoming one again—that he wasn’t sure who led it. Like waves sliding over the shore and carrying away the sand when they left. Her mouth opened in a gasp, and she bit down on the thumb he brushed across her lips.
“I don’t know about you,” she said, “but my dreams are almost never this good.”
Chapter 17
A radio flicking on at five a.m. lulled Craig from an unsettling dream. He blinked, taking a second or two to familiarize himself with his surroundings. The silky sheets and cozy mattress made it clear he wasn’t in his sterile apartment. He rolled onto his back, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Maybe the disorientation would lessen if he and Megan each settled on a side of her bed, but he’d intentionally tried to keep that from happening these last three and a half weeks. Tried to keep the habitual from announcing itself and setting in.
Not that he’d mind the habitual with her. Of her being there for him both physically and emotionally as much as he needed her to be. He’d been thawing with her, coming back to life. But with life came fear. Fear of losing things that sucked out your soul when they left.
She hadn’t pressed for more than the simple present that he’d confessed was all he could give her that first night they were together. She was in complete agreement that Sophie and Reese should discover nothing. It wasn’t t
he time, she’d said. Not yet. And their future together—whatever it might be—was never discussed.
Shutting off the alarm before the music swelled loud enough to wake her, he slid out of bed, causing as little disruption as possible. He used the bathroom without turning on a light, then returned to the bedroom for his things. He could just make out her silhouette; she was sitting upright, head resting on her knees and arms draped around them. He sank next to her automatically, pulled as much by need as want.
It was a simple morning gift he allowed himself, letting his fingers get lost in her hair. But doing so set his morning on a different path, started happiness pressing in. With it came an unsettling anxiety. Uncertainty.
This wasn’t the way he liked to start his day. He preferred to leave while she was asleep. To keep his guard intact. It was easier to go about his routine this way. At night, once everything was done, it was easier to let that armor down.
“Hey,” he said, “sorry to wake you. That was my alarm. You’ve got another hour and a half to sleep.”
She groaned and leaned in to him. “I know. I was thinking I should force myself awake and go in early. There’s always so much to do.”
“Hmm, let me guess. Your boss has really been riding you, huh?”
Something between a snort and a giggle slipped out of her. She pulled away and mock-pushed him sideways. “You’re not my boss, idiot.”
It was a second small gift, allowing his lips to brush her temple. The intensity that swept over him as he experienced her soft skin was almost painful. It was like acting: keeping it light, keeping it playful. “Maybe so, but ‘board president’ didn’t sound as good. Go back to sleep. Work will wait.”
“You get up at this ungodly hour every day.”
“Yeah, and I’ve been doing it for years. I’m used to it.”
“A hot shower does wonders. I’ll be fine.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, letting his fingers trail over her shoulder as he stood up. “I’d better get moving. If I don’t make it by the gym, I’ll regret it later. I have the kids from after school until about eight or so tonight. Do you have any plans later?”