Where She Belongs (Destiny Falls)

by Cindy Procter-King

  She coaxed him down to the carpet and wrapped her hand around his erection. A low groan issued from him.

  His excitement fueled her. Skin against skin. Mouths joined, tongues darting. She couldn’t get enough of him.

  “Now,” she whispered. “I can’t wait much longer.”

  “You’re not the only one.” He kissed her. “We’re forgetting something, though.” He grabbed his jeans and withdrew a condom packet from a front pocket. “Call me optimistic. I’ve been carrying this around for days.”

  A sweet, poignant emotion bloomed inside her. Not because he’d anticipated making love with her, but because he’d thought to protect her.

  Together, they slid the sheath into place.

  She removed her thong, then sank with him to the carpet. The DJ’s voice announced the next song on the radio, but she couldn’t decipher the words, couldn’t concentrate on anything but her passionate need to make love with Adam.

  He lifted his hips and entered her slowly. Inch by sleek, hot inch. Filling her. Driving her mad.

  As if intent on torturing her, he stilled. Desire coiling, she tightened her inner muscles and thrust against him.

  A wicked smile tipping his mouth, he began to move. Slowly again at first, then faster. Deeper.

  He lowered his head to her breasts and tasted one nipple, then the other. Lips tugging, tongue swirling. Bringing her to the brink of release at the speed of light.

  Jess tried to hold back, tried to contain the vortex swirling inside her. Then he rubbed her between her legs again, and she climaxed in a rush. “Adam!”

  He pumped rapidly. Seconds later, his body throbbed, his breathing harsh with his own release.

  He rested his head on her shoulder. “Jess, that was amazing. Honey, we’re perfect together.”

  She held him tightly, a dozen emotions swelling within her. Meshing, conflicting. Making her sigh with contentment. Shaking her to her core.

  For Adam had done much more than make love with her.

  He’d touched her heart.

  Adam woke after midnight to find himself alone in bed. Light from the loft hallway streamed through the open door. Noises of Jess moving around downstairs punctuated the stillness.

  He sat up. He must have fallen asleep after they’d made love a second time. No wonder—the second time had been as intense as the first, and the first had nearly knocked him out, until Jess had suggested coming upstairs.

  Shrugging into his robe, he left the room and glanced over the narrow log railing. Jess was pulling on her jeans in the semi-darkness of the great room, her dark curls tumbling over her bare shoulders. Her bra encased her breasts and socks clad her feet, but her sweater and shoes still lay scattered on the carpet alongside his discarded clothes.

  “Hi,” he said.

  Her head lifted. “Hi.”

  “Leaving so soon?” “Dinner” had lasted longer than expected.

  “I have to get home.” She retrieved her sweater and tugged it on. “Mom will worry if I stay out all night.”

  “Call her.” He descended the split-log steps.

  She shook her head. “It’s too late, and she has traditional values. If I stay, she’ll know we slept together on our first date. I’m a bit surprised by that myself.”

  “It wasn’t a date. It was dinner.”

  She laughed. “It was a date, and you know it.”

  “We could count Tim and Molly’s anniversary as our first date,” he said as he stepped off the bottom stair. “Lunch on Thursday was the second date. So tonight was our third.”

  Her lips twitched. “Typical male justification.”

  “Just so you know I’m not kicking you out.” Reaching her, he picked up her trendy shoes. Erotic memories flooded his mind—Jess on her back on the carpet, her shoes cast aside and her hips raised as he peeled off her jeans.

  Desire swelled. Down, boy. It’s not the time.

  “There’ll be other nights,” he half-whispered. Passing her the shoes, he kissed her.

  “Thanks—I mean for my shoes.”

  “Not for the offer of other nights?”

  “That, too. I’d planned to leave you a note.” Morning-after jitters shaded her tone.

  “A clean get-away. I’ve spoiled it now, haven’t I?”

  “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “I wouldn’t have cared.” Grazing her chin with one hand, he kissed her. “But I’m here now, so you don’t have to write that note.”

  He kissed her again, harder, craving her lush mouth. Her hand clasped his wrist, and her lips parted. She held him there, deepening the kiss, dissolving his sudden notion that she was running out on him.

  She broke away, gaze soft, and he brushed her lower lip with his thumb. “You’d better put on those shoes before I drag you back upstairs and have my way with you for a third time tonight.”

  Her small smile churned up the madness inside him. “Still frisky, are you?”

  “I have a feeling ‘frisky’ will describe my general state of existence over the next several weeks.”

  “Poor boy.”

  “I’ll work it out of my system by the time you leave town.” His chest tightened. Her leaving was inevitable. That didn’t mean he had to like it. “I’ll need your help, though.” He kissed her fingertips.

  “What kind of help?” she asked lightly. “Part time? Full time? Day shift? Night?”

  “Mostly nights. Although I’m sure we can fit in a day here and there.”

  “And the benefits?”

  “You can set your own hours. Come and go as you please. As for the pay—”

  “I’ll take it in kisses.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” He held her close, mouths joining. Her body heat seeped into him, and the lingering scent of their lovemaking swirled in his brain. As she leaned into him, her shoes wedged against his hip.

  “I keep forgetting the purpose of those is to get you out of here,” he murmured against her mouth.

  “I’ll put them on.” She slipped on the shoes, gaze sweeping to the fireplace. The flames had diminished to embers, and chunks of fudge swam in melted ice cream in the goblets on the hearth. “I’ll help clean up.” She stepped toward the ruined desserts.

  He shook his head. “I’ll do it in the morning. I like the thought of coming down here again to find our mess.”

  “A melted sundae hunt? That’s a new one.”

  “You’re right, it’s officially Easter.” An arm around her shoulders, he walked her to the door. “What are your plans?”

  “Same as yours, I think.”

  “You’re going to Louis Creek?”

  “Oh.” She laughed. “No. Mom and I are having dinner at Molly’s parents’. I assumed you were, too.”

  “I wish I were, knowing you are. But my mom will skin me alive if I don’t show up for her special glazed Easter ham.” He fetched her purse from the closet. Dropping a light kiss on her mouth, he handed it to her.

  “Will you be back tomorrow night?” she asked.

  He missed her already. This is crazy. He shook his head. “I want to get in a good visit while I can. I’ll return Monday morning. How does lunch sound?” Ages away.

  “At my place?”

  “I’ll take you out this time.” He sat on the chair and tugged on his mud-caked work boots. “I’ll walk you to the truck.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I want to.” He opened the door, then offered her his arm, feeling gallant and ridiculous in his bathrobe and dirty boots. They strolled across the driveway, gravel crunching beneath their feet. The rain had stopped, and earth-tinged freshness saturated the air. An owl hooted from the fir trees surrounding the yard. Sheba stirred in the carport and barked.

  Jess climbed into the truck. Starting the engine, she rolled down the window. Adam settled his mouth over hers for one last, soft, sweet kiss.

  “Do you really have to go?” he whispered, and she nodded.

  She turned around the SU
V in the driveway and sped into the darkness.

  Easter dinner with Molly’s family was a boisterous affair. Molly’s brothers—Luke, still single, and Brian with his wife and baby—had traveled home to attend. Eleven chairs crowded the huge dining table laden with roast turkey and an assortment of side dishes. Molly’s children squabbled about sitting crammed together while the adults argued good-naturedly about politics and hockey.

  In the midst of the chaos, Jess’s thoughts kept drifting to Adam in Louis Creek. Were the Wrights as noisy and cheerful as the McLeans? Did Adam envision similar holiday bedlam erupting around his dinner table someday?

  Visions of blond, blue-eyed children surrounding him—perhaps one or two with curly black hair—zipped through her mind. In each image, she pictured herself sitting beside him, serene and glowing. Like she’d once imagined herself in a future with Danny.

  She drew in a breath. Don’t be ridiculous. Her hormones were working overtime. Hot sex with Adam was one thing, but beyond that? She didn’t need the complications.

  “I said, ‘will you pass the turkey, please, Jess?’” Brian poked her arm. “Can’t let that last piece go to waste.”

  “Huh?” Jess glanced at Molly’s brother seated to her left. Had the hockey discussion ended? “Um, sure.” She accepted the platter her mom held out to her and transferred it to him.

  Brian grinned. “Was it a good one?”

  “Good what?”

  “Daydream. Or were you trying to block out the noise?” He stabbed the big slice of turkey breast and deposited it on his plate.

  Across the table, Molly said, “She was daydreaming. About Adam, I bet.” She murmured in a selling-national-secrets tone, “They had dinner at his place last night.”

  Jess gripped her fork. They’d had a lot more than dinner, but Molly wasn’t aware of that fact, and Jess had no plans to tell her. She still needed to grow accustomed to the idea.

  Luke stared at his sister. “Jess and Adam? Well, what do you know? The guy’s finally developing some taste.” He passed his brother the gravy boat.

  Molly snorted. “What would you know about good taste in women?”

  “Enough to realize that if I’d had any as a teenager, I would have paid more attention to Jess.” Luke nudged his mother. “How about it, Mom? Don’t you think Jess and I would make beautiful babies together?”

  Sheila McLean flicked a hand. “Don’t you dare tease me, Luke. You know darn well I think it’s high time you were married.” Sheila rose and began collecting empty plates. “Although I wouldn’t mind it if a certain nephew of mine found himself someone, too.”

  “I think she means you, Jess.” Molly snickered and got up to help her mom.

  “Thanks for pointing that out, Moll.” Jess glared at her plate-whisking friend. Her own mother, seated on her right, had quietly absorbed every word.

  She didn’t want Mom—or anyone else—thinking this “thing” she had for Adam would ever lead anywhere.

  Because it wouldn’t.

  Adam had planned to take Jess to a restaurant for lunch on Monday. However, after a day and night without her, he decided he’d rather go somewhere they could be alone. The waterfall, for instance.

  Unfortunately, he failed to inform her in advance, and when he arrived to pick her up, she answered the door in a gauzy, belted, sleeveless dress and delicate-looking high-heeled sandals that would never survive an afternoon in the great outdoors.

  But, damn, did she look fine.

  “Hi.” Tugging the dress’s wide belt, he coaxed her into his arms for a kiss. Her spine tensed in the instant before her mouth softened beneath his. One hand on the belt, he skittered the other up her bare shoulder and grazed the vee of the button-front dress. “You wouldn’t happen to have something a little more substantial in the line of footwear, would you?”

  “I’m a shoe buyer—I brought ten pairs. Why, don’t you like these?”

  “I love them. Hiking boots or runners would work better for what I have in mind, though.”

  “I thought we were going out for lunch.”

  “We are going out. Outside.”

  “A picnic?”

  He nodded. “The convenience store at the gas station sells these incredible take-out ribs and wedgie fries. I thought we could eat at the waterfall then walk the trails.” He fanned his hand like a Hollywood director blocking a scene. “Can’t you picture it? Privacy, ambience, the odd black fly buzzing around.”

  “How romantic.”

  “If you’d rather eat at the Wander-Inn—”

  “After that build-up about the black flies? Not on your life.” She stepped out of his arms. “Wait inside. I’ll be right back.”

  Minutes later, she met him in the living room, looking radiant and beautiful in a loose white sweatshirt pulled on over her dress and ankle boots with thick socks instead of fancy sandals.

  Part Toronto, part Destiny Falls. She’d fit in perfectly with the granola set.

  “What, no jeans?” He kissed her.

  “I didn’t want to waste more time.”

  “Honey, I like the way you think.”

  “You have it.”

  “No, you have it.”

  “Nope,” Adam insisted. “You.”

  Her eyebrows arched. “Very well.” She plucked the last rib from the take-out box resting between them on the viewing deck stairs. She nibbled the meat. “Mmm, that’s good.” She dragged out the word on a moan, supercharging his libido. “Betcha wish you hadn’t let me have it now.”

  He laughed. “Betcha?” Had he heard Jess Morgan say betcha?

  “Betcha, wanna, gonna—Molly’s kids are rubbing off on me.”

  “Cute. Actually, I don’t care about the rib.” He pierced the last potato wedge with his plastic fork. “This was what I was after.” He shoved the spicy wedge into his mouth.

  Jess punched his shoulder. “You pig!”

  “Me? What about you?”

  “A lady is never a pig.” She stuck her nose in the air. “A lady merely partakes of the gastronomic pleasures of life with the unschooled appetite of a portly swine.” She tore barbecued meat off the rib with her fingers and tossed the morsel to Sheba, curled on the deck at their feet.

  Adam welcomed Jess’s enjoyment of their simple lunch. When she’d left his place in the early hours of Sunday morning, he’d wondered if her mother’s morals had really prompted her departure, or had something else? He’d agreed to a spring fling—he wasn’t crazy—but sometimes he detected a hint of the old wariness in her eyes or voice. Like in the pickup while they’d driven here. Or when they’d first sat down to eat.

  However, now she seemed determined to maintain a carefree mood.

  “Finished?” he asked beneath the din of the rumbling falls.

  “Yes.” She tossed the bone in the box, then licked barbecue sauce from her fingers. The wet, slurping noises conjured erotic fantasies of melting sundaes and amazing lovemaking. His body responded.

  “How about that walk?” Sex wasn’t the only reason he appreciated her company. Although, at the moment, sex seemed like an excellent idea.

  “I’d love it.”

  “Let’s go.” He collected their trash and deposited it in the garbage can. They followed a trail that skirted the chain-link fence along the canyon. Then they wound through the woods behind the campsites before emerging to a canyon view again. When the width of the path permitted, they strolled hand in hand, Sheba racing ahead of them, investigating noises, scents, and movements.

  “This is nice,” Jess murmured. “Mom and I didn’t walk the trails when I brought her here. I don’t think I’ve walked them in nine years.”

  “Since your father died?” And Danny Galloway. Her first love.

  She nodded. “When I was little, Dad tried to teach me the different species of trees. You know, which has two needles, which has three.”

  Adam looked forward to doing the same with his own kids someday, a woman like Jess at his side. “Do you remember
any of it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then it’s time for a refresher lesson.” He slapped the bark of the nearest tree. “This one’s a Western hemlock. In Latin, Tsuga heterophylla. Hetero, like me.” He grinned and she rolled her eyes. “Glossy needles, flat and soft, tiny cones, scaly, ridged bark.” He pressed her palm to the tree. “Feel that? A Mountain hemlock would have hard, narrow ridges, longer cones, drooping branches.”

  “How do you remember all that?”

  “Four years of university drilled it into my brain.” He led her to another tree and pointed out a branch. “When your father talked about two needles or three, he probably meant this tree.”

  “Pine,” she said, and he nodded.

  “The needles of the Ponderosa pine grow in clusters of three, the White pine clusters of five, and this baby—the Lodgepole pine—has pairs of short, stiff needles.”

  Jess slid him an amused glance. “Stiff, huh? And the Latin?”

  “For the Lodgepole? Pinus contorta.”

  “Pinus? You’re joking.”

  “Nope.” He grinned.

  “Hmm. By any chance, is your pinus contorta?”

  “Not likely. The short, crooked Lodgepoles grow at the Coast. We Interior guys are long and straight.”

  “Ah.” She leaned against the tree, hands clasped behind her back. As if in invitation, her breasts thrust forward. “I remember.”

  “Do you now?” Desire, hot and heavy, pulled at him. Bending an arm, he planted his hand on the bark above her head.

  “Why, Professor Wright. My lesson—”

  “Is over.”

  Swooping down, he kissed her deeply. She laced her hands around his neck and drew him closer. God, he wanted to make love to her.

  Beneath the trees. Against the tree. Whatever she wanted. However she wanted.

  “I want you, Jess,” he whispered. “Don’t you know what you do to me? I want you more than I’ve ever wanted another woman.”

  “Now?” she whispered, breath warm against his mouth.

  “Right here. Right now.” He tugged the waistband of her sweatshirt.