The puppy rested the underneath of her neck on Carrie Ann’s chest peering up at her with chocolate eyes. One furry brow lifted and then the other, going back forth like a teeter-totter. She gave a small whine of concern, inching her cold nose higher.
“It’s okay, girl,” she assured between sniffles, stroking her head.
“No, it’s not okay.” Came a quiet husky voice from behind. The sweet sound caused her to crack. Her shoulders shook as another round of tears broke free. Summer hinged at the waist holding a large black umbrella above their heads. He offered her a hand, helping her to her feet. “Christ, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. You know how much that kills me.”
Without asking, without warning, without hesitation, he drew her into his chest. She stiffened against the solid masculinity, but her thoughts scattered yearning for the comfort and warmth he offered.
Umbrella in hand, his forearm locked around her. She trembled a little as his free hand wrung the excess water from her sopping wet hair. Summer leaned in, trapping her chilled face between his cheek and palm, holding her there until heat of his flesh spread gradually through her limbs and below.
Carrie Ann flinched as he reached for the buttons of her jacket. “What are you trying to do? Undress me again?”
Summer removed her jacket, bundling her in a large dry towel. She refused to release the puppy, using her as a barrier between them. He handed off the umbrella, scooping her and Aspen into his strong arms. She let out a little shaky squeak, but her complaints were instantly silenced with one look, daring her to protest.
“I didn’t undress you, Red. I suggested you change when we were at your place, but you mentioned something about it being a very Pretty Woman moment and insisted on wearing your gown.”
“C..clearly, you did because I was naked when I woke up and…I could tell you s…slept with me.” Tenacity lost to the chattering of her teeth.
“You undressed yourself during the flight.” Raising one eyebrow, he flashed her a small, but sympathetic smile. “You managed to put your heels back on…” he paused sucking in a shallow breath. “You claimed it was for me, but I’m pretty sure you enjoyed wearing them.”
Her mind raced. Curiosity and concern grew into apprehension, rising into panic. Suddenly, her mouth felt like cotton. Her voice completely lost to the play of strained muscles near the dip where his shoulder met his neck. Releasing the breath she’d been holding, Carrie Ann surrendered to the exhaustion inundating her body, and rested her head on his chest. The rapid beat of his heart thumped against her ear.
Damn he smelled delicious.
The rising temperature of his body penetrated her clothing bringing a tingle of awareness to every point of contact. She tried to force her gaze away from his handsome features, but she hadn’t been this close to him in years. Intrigued by his seasoned attributes, she indulged in the fine lines sweeping from his eyes to his temples where she located a few grey hairs.
Noticing her inquisitiveness his lips bowed upward. “Don’t be making fun of my chrome trim.”
“I’m not,” she managed. Her breath wobbled before unloading another long tired breath.
Entering the cabin, he kicked out of his boots, shimmied the slickers from her feet, set the pup on the floor, and hooked the handle of the umbrella on an antler. All the while cradling her in his strong arms. He padded across the hardwood floor in his stocking feet, dropping her in front of a roaring fire.
“Get warm. I’ll get you some dry clothes.” He paused adding, “Will you please stop running off in the rain? You’re gonna get sick out there. Plus, you’re making me feel like a damn stalker staring out the window with binoculars.”
Rubbing her hands together, she nodded an acknowledgement. Turning her back to the fire, she stuck her bum out, inching closer to the glowing flames. Carrie Ann lifting one foot then the other, slowly thawing her toes, bringing a dull stinging sensation to the tips.
Summer rounded the corner appearing cozy and dry in pair of ocean blue twill pants and a fresh tee. The elastic waistband hung from his hips, drawstring undone and hanging from the front like an untied shoe-string. His long tan feet remained soundless, making his way toward her with a stack of dry clothes. The burning glow of the fire highlighted him in an exquisite contrast of colors.
A devilish grin flicked the corner of his mouth catching sight of her bent over in front of the fireplace. The bright white smile, warmed her all the way to the core.
“Here you go.”
“These are yours. Did I bring any comfy clothes from my place?”
“You were more interested in bringing your lingerie.”
His eyes smothered in amusement. Witnessing a tremor of laughter jump in his chest, she could feel the color draining from her cheeks. His sneer ignited to a full blown haughty Summer smile. She knew he was fighting back a smart-ass remark. An image of her drawer popped into her head. Mr. Fucking Perfect.
“Fuck. Fuckity-fuck.” Her grumble nearly inaudible. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Don’t you dare say one damn thing right now. I mean it, Summer.”
“Not saying a word,” he assured, raising the flat of his hands in a show of surrender. He didn’t have to. His smug obnoxious grin said it all. “I’ll make some coffee. You can change right here in front of the fire if you want.”
Carrie Ann held her tongue, watching him disappear into the kitchen. Shedding her wet clothing, she slipped into the oversized flannel shirt and boxer briefs. She folded the loose waistband a few times, grumbling under her breath, “Seriously? I’ve gotta wear his boxers?”
“You need some help in there?” he called out.
“No! I don’t need any help.”
This prompted a loud laugh from the kitchen. Carrie Ann settled into the over-sized club chair, wrapping herself in the plaid camp-style throw draped over the back. Noticing a narrow built-in bookcase in the corner, she leaned over the arm of the chair, skimming through the selection of murder mysteries and western romances, searching for something to spark her interest. The well-worn pages of western romance would have to do. She twisted the toggle on the cast-iron floor lamp and snuggled into the warm leather.
Somewhere into the second chapter, Summer returned with a dark wooden serving tray. His gaze lingered over her toes before roving up her exposed leg as he set the tray on the ottoman beside her feet. Peering over the pages, she fixated on the way his shirt pulled snug over the natural flex of his muscle. She felt a low pang knock at the vacancy between her thighs making her toes curl.
“I figured you’d be hungry.” The appetite burning in his eyes had nothing to do with the food.
Edging forward in her seat, Carrie Ann caught a whiff of coffee and some sort of soup. Two deep red bowls were topped with diced avocados, tortilla strips, and a wedge of lime. Unable to mask her surprise, she questioned, “This smells delicious. Since when did you learn to cook?”
“As much as I’d love to impress you right now I have to admit I still don’t cook.” He smiled. “I have a personal chef. He prepared all kinds of meals, so I can stock the freezer. This is one of my favorites. Grilled chicken tortilla soup with Tequila crema.”
Summer squeezed the fresh lime over his bowl, grabbed a large spoon and lowered into the love seat beside her chair. Sharing the ottoman, he plopped his feet beside hers and went to work on his soup. Carrie Ann followed his lead. Ladling a spoonful, she blew on the broth, testing its heat with a careful sip. Sounds of appreciation hummed from her throat, devouring the spicy goodness.
Summer gingerly caught her big toe between two of his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“We kissed,” he announced casually.
“What?” she sputtered, choking on a chip.
“I said, we kissed. Technically it might’ve been considered mauling. You were pretty rough. Left a mark.” The tip of his tongue flicked a spot on his bottom lip. Summer’s eyes bore into hers for a full five seconds before returning them to his soup.
She
could feel the blood leaching to her face. Carrie Ann opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The longer she stalled, the more obnoxious his grin grew. Her nerves unraveled in laborious huffs bordering on grunts.
“I don’t remember,” she groaned defensively.
“I do.” Placing his empty bowl on the tray, he raised to his feet. “You cried too.”
“I cried?”
“Umm hmm.”
Alarm bells sounded off, riddling her brain with warning. But before reason had a chance to sink in, she blurted, “Why was I crying?”
Her eyes widened watching a full blown cocky mother fucking Summer smile grow to the size of ginormous. He’d set the trap and she stepped right smack into the middle of it.
Leaning forward, he rested his palms on either arm of her chair. Muscles in his arms thickened and played, holding his weight above her. “You were very upset with me because I refused to let you give me a blow job. If you want the verbatim…you were a bit dejected when I wouldn’t let you ‘suck my cock’.”
Denial tweaked every tiny muscle in her face, screwing it tight. She never used that word. Every time she tried, it brought on an onslaught of giggles. Talking dirty had always been impossible for her, preferring to use the terms I want to taste you or going down.
Attempting to will it true, she mustered an insistent tone. “I. Did. Not.”
Determination rolled off him in waves. He’d been far too patient waiting this long to get whatever happened that night off his chest. There was no place to hide. She sat tall and squared her shoulders. His amber eyes turned hazy as they drifted to her lips.
“I actually felt sorry for myself. You have no idea how hard it was for me.” His voice faded to an achy rasp. Summer’s eyes rolled back. “Telling you no, physically fucking pained me. My heart hurts. My dick’s ready to explode. We kissed and held each other. You said things to me that I’ve dreamt of hearing for ten long years. And then Christ, Carrie Ann, when I realized you’d probably been drugged there was no way I could let it go any further. You cried, I mean really cried, when I told you no. You were so mad and upset…and then…”
The pounding of her heart hammered in her eardrums. She squirmed, molding further into the cushion, bracing for the worst. Summer eased closer, two feet from her face. The vein in his neck, quickening with his pulse. Part of her wanted to sweep the whole incident under a big, gigantic rug. Unfortunately, part of her was dying to know what happened. And worse yet, a sensation of regret gathered in her chest, frustrated by the fact they’d kissed and she’d missed out on it. The man was a seriously good kisser. Face holding, hair gripper, all-consuming, cage rattling, heart soaring to the sky, kind of kisser. No, no, no! She considered bitch-slapping herself to knock the reality back into her senses.
Her sanity began to tip, urgently needing to know how much she confessed.
“What else?” she questioned in a small defensive tone.
“Red…” he stammered, slowly shaking his head. “I couldn’t stop you. We’d both gotten worked up. I was trying to fly, but you undressed…you started touching yourself.”
Carrie Ann needed to look anywhere but his eyes. Sinking lower into mortification, her eyes coasted down his body, inadvertently taking him in. Heavily aroused, his thick bulging column pulling at the top of his waistband. Her brows lifted, sub-consciously angling her chin, attempting a quick glimpse inside. A defined tan line dusted with dark hair fired off a round of contractions in her lower abdomen. It took all of her control to keep her hips from pulsing with the rhythm. Shamefully, she panted as a fine layer of perspiration gathered beneath her clothing.
“There was no stopping you. I figured it was better for you to touch yourself than me. No matter how much I wanted you…want you…it wouldn’t have been right. At one point you were so pissed because I refused to participate you punched my arm.”
“I hit you?” she cringed.
“Yeah, you whacked the hell out of me because I wouldn’t pull over. Then you turned all sweet asking me to make love to you, touch you, taste you.”
His hand slipped over hers. A low groan crooned from his throat, clasping two of her fingers in his.
Oh. My. God. I seriously fed him my pussy.
Embarrassment coursed through her in a deep tremor. Straightening his spine, he shook his head fiercely, ridding the vision from his eyes.
Summer motioned to his hard-on nearly protruding out the top of his pants “Look at me! My dick’s so hard it won’t go down.”
“Sorry.” She had no idea why she apologized, but she did.
“Trust me. You’re not the least bit sorry. You’re just in complete denial.”
“The last thing I’m in is denial. Just because I was drugged and…”
“Don’t. Don’t do it, Red. I really don’t know how much more I can take. First you’re all over me, then you’re telling me….things, then you’re furious with me. The last thing I need right now is to feel anything else…unless it involves you in my arms.”
A spike of heat caught her low in the gut. She didn’t know what things she’d said in the heat of the moment, but Carrie Ann knew one thing for certain. She didn’t want to hurt him. No matter what happened years ago, she carried a deep affection for the man standing in front of her. A rush of emotions spurred fire to the center of her chest. Her hands and arms felt encumbered, shackled to the chair by fear. Part of her yearned to reach for his hand, the other part terrified to touch him.
“That’s not going to happen, Summer,” she said unsteadily.
Pushing aside the tray, he kneeled before her half sitting on the edge of the ottoman. Staring out the window, shadows of light played against his profile. His strained silence filled her with electrifying awareness of the severity of the situation. He glanced down at her bare legs, pausing before closing his hands over her knees. Carrie Ann startled at the spark of warmth prickling her flesh. Her body tensed and trembled, fists curled into tight balls, feeling the pad of his thumbs turn lazy, telling circles near her inner thigh.
“Red…” His smooth tone drew her eyes upward. His hands moved to her arms, stroking from her elbow to the thin pale skin of her wrists. “I’m smart enough not to push you. We both had a lot to say. Time’s already taken too much from each of us. All I’m asking is that you keep an open mind. Let your guard down a little.”
An obscure cloak of anxieties fastened tightly around her heart. She wasn’t even aware she’d been holding her breath until a heavy exhale expelled from her lungs. Concern sifted through his eyes. Releasing another shuddery sigh, she unlocked her fingers, stretching them straight.
“It’s been so long, Summer. Can’t we just be friends…for now?” Hearing the sound of her own voice, tenuous and indefinite, shocked her. She swallowed hard, pushing down the trepidation growing inside. “See how we feel?”
“I don’t want to be your friend, Carrie Ann.” She heard him murmur. He raised to his feet, playing with her fingers before letting them loose, dropping his hand at his side. “I want to be your everything.”
Chapter Eight
‡
Summer gave her space for much of the afternoon, chopping enough firewood to last two seasons of the bitter Montana winter. Carrie Ann flipped through the pages of the western romance, but found it impossible to pay attention, constantly re-reading the pages. Her head and her heart were in an intense battle of tug-a-war, neither wanting to concede. Logic weighed in with a heavy hand yielding a wealth of reasons why she should say no. They had a history. Their relationship started off as a fairytale, but ended in a nightmare. However, merely being in his presence made her heart beat faster. The world seemed to list in perfect balance, producing a feeling of comfort she’d almost forgotten. And God knows, her vagina waited impatiently on the sidelines ready, willing and able to take on the challenge at any given notice. Closing the pages of the book against her chest, she laid her head back, peering up at the log beams. Right on cue, her old nemesis, guilt, moved to
the forefront, nailing the doors to her heart shut.
The clicking of puppy nails, echoed above the thunderous rain. Carrie Ann slid off the chair, sitting cross legged on the floor. She called the pup with a kiss of her lips, “C’mere girl.”
Aspen bounded into the living room, muddy paws and all. Summer jogged right behind, scooping her into his arms before she dirtied the Indian rug spread across the wide plank floor. Rich bands of gold, brown, purple and maroon, weaved together, mimicking the colors of red cliffs at sunset.
“Oops, sorry.”
Aspen wiggled and whined. Her cute little paws darting in midair wanting to get to Carrie Ann.
“That’s okay. I don’t blame her. If I didn’t think you’d slap me, I’d do the same thing.” He flashed a smile and she couldn’t help but return the grin. “Let me wash her paws off and you can have her.”
A few minutes later, Aspen licked her face wildly. The earthy scent of the wet outdoors clung to her fur. Summer retrieved a rugged looking cell phone from his back pocket and placed it atop the low coffee table made from an old trunk. “Shayla wants you to give her a call.”
“You have cell service way out here?”
“I like to refer to it as a necessary evil, but yes, I have a satellite phone. I love being out here in the middle of nowhere, but it’s a critical lifeline to the rest of the world. I have cable too, but only in the barn. I didn’t want TV’s or computers in the cabin. It’s a digital detox zone. I should warn you…you might go through withdrawals.” A faint smile touched his lips. “I’m gonna hop in the shower.”
“Okay.” Her voice wavered a bit, focusing her attention on Aspen. “Does she know what’s going on?”
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
A Taste of Summer Page 12