by Abby Brooks
“Turn around,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear.
I hesitate. If I turn around, I’ll be so close to him. Face to face. Or rather, my upturned face hovering so close to his chest. Will he lean down and kiss me? Or better yet, will I reach up and kiss him? Impulse control has never been one of my strongest qualities.
“Turn around, Dakota.”
My name in his voice is a siren’s call singing its way through my bloodstream. I do as I’m told. Spin slowly, carefully. Ever so aware of the tiny sliver of space between our bodies. Dominic smiles down at me. Without a word, he leans in. Craning his neck to bring his mouth to mine. My lips part. My chest heaves. My body thrumming and throbbing with excitement. I close my eyes.
His lips never touch mine but I can feel how close they are. Our breath mingles. It’s like electricity racing against the delicate flesh of my lips. I open my eyes. Consider reaching up, closing the distance, forcing the kiss. He turns his face and I turn mine. He brings his hands to my hips, again, a touch that’s just barely a touch. The tiniest bit of contact that is somehow more powerful than if he had grabbed me and crushed my body to his, his mouth to mine. These delicate whispers create a need in me, a flame I won’t be able to ignore until I have more of him.
“Am I that man?” he asks, his lips moving against mine, fanning the flames. “That man you’ll give control to?”
I want to answer, but I’m struck dumb by this man. For the first time in my life, I’m speechless. I lean in, almost without knowing, needing to feel the warmth of his mouth on mine.
“Answer me, Dakota.”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate. I give him the answer that should embarrass me. The answer that is so unlike me but so very true because I’m sure that as soon as I do, he’ll end this delicious torture and kiss me.
Dominic pulls away and if disappointment had a face next to its entry in the dictionary, it would be mine. “Good,” he says and takes off walking, leaving me in a big heap of lustful, wet-pantied confusion. “Come on,” he says with a little jerk of his head and damn if I don’t scamper after him.
We walk for a bit in silence, pausing every now and then for Dominic to take a picture. At first the pictures are of the trees. A flower. A close up of a moss covered rock on the bank of a small creek. But more and more often, he takes pictures of me.
“Put your hands in your hair,” he says when he has me leaning on a tree.
“Look down,” he says when he has me seated near the water. “Now smile a little like you have a dirty secret.”
He mutters words like beautiful and exquisite. He watches me through the lens of his camera and as we wander the woods, I start to feel like I am both of those things.
“Did you always want to be a photographer?” I ask as he pauses to arrange me on a fallen log.
“Pretty much. Although I didn’t know it at first.” He steps back and studies me through his camera. Takes a picture. Drops the camera so it dangles from the strap around his neck. “I used to get lost in those National Geographic magazines. I didn’t know how I’d get to see all those places, just that I needed to. As soon as I figured out that the best way to get there was to be the one behind the camera, it was a done deal.” He sits beside me, close enough that our thighs touch. “What about you. Is that how you felt about bartending?”
The question takes me off guard and for a second I’m not sure if he’s making fun of me or not. But one look at his face makes me think not. I laugh.
“No. Not at all. I wanted to be a writer. The bartender thing was just a quick and easy way to get out of my parents’ house.”
Dominic nods, widening his eyes in a look that says I get you there. “Not a happy childhood?”
I shrug. “It wasn’t unhappy. My sisters are perfect. Hard working and so good at being good they might as well have halos perched on their heads. I came along and messed up the London track record of perfect parenting. They weren’t happy with my grades. Weren’t happy when I wanted to write. Certainly weren’t happy when I chose to become a bartender. But it’s not all bad. We all manage to smile for the Christmas card.”
Dominic looks at me, incredulous. “You do a family Christmas card?”
“Ohhh yeah. Highlight of the season, let me tell you.” I shake my head as I speak to let him know just how sarcastic I’m being. “What about you? Any siblings?”
“One.” Dominic turns his focus to his feet. “A sister. She died when we were young.”
“Oh shit. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.” He lets a long breath out through his nose. “We were close. It was hard. Still is. But after she died, my parents put all their hopes and dreams into me. Jenny was everything they ever wanted. The perfect kid to follow in my dad’s footsteps. Become a high powered lawyer with the big house and shiny car. Dad tried to get me to want that, too. And I tried, for him. For her. But it’s just not me. Mom secretly loves that I do what I do because she knows how much I love it. Would never tell Dad though. He might divorce her for siding with me.” He smiles but I’m not sure he’s joking. “She sends me care packages whenever I’m in one place long enough for them to get to me before I leave.”
That statement hits me in the gut. I didn’t know it, at least not until this very moment, but I’ve been in the process of thinking about a second date with Dominic. And a third. And a fourth. I like this guy and I want him to like me. But, for all I know, he could be leaving tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, then soon. And if not soon, well, he’s not staying. That much I know for sure.
So it doesn’t matter how many dates I want to have with Dominic because this is going to end up being our first and last one. Sooner or later, he’s going to have to leave. Go off gallivanting through the mountains and deserts and cities with buildings so tall I’d have to look straight up to see the sky while I rot here in Townsbury.
This man, as much as I might want him, he is not for me.
Chapter Nine
Holy fuck it’s taking every ounce of self-control I have not to jump Dakota right now, tear all her clothes off, pin her against a tree and fuck her senseless. The looks she keeps giving me. The way she moves. That body. That hair. That quick wit and adventuresome spirit. Not only is she hot, but I like her, too.
And there goes my dick again, pressing against the zipper in my pants, clearly in full agreement as to how we feel about her.
I distract myself with taking pictures. Some of the woods, which are pretty enough. But mostly, I take pictures of Dakota. She gets uncomfortable whenever the camera is pointed at her. Smiling too big. Panic tightening her eyes, warring with the smile that strains her pretty features. It’s been a project, but I’ve calmed her down. Posed her. Coached her. And now, when the camera is on her, those lips part. Her eyes light up. She feels beautiful. Which she should. Because she is.
But a lot of the pictures I take of her, she doesn’t even know about. I catch her watching the water, the space between her brows softening as she watches the light gleaming across the ripples in the river running through the forest. The turn of her head as she listens to a bird singing in the trees. The light in her eyes as she tells a joke.
“You take a lot of pictures,” she says, folding her arms over her chest and staring up at me.
“You say that like you’re surprised.”
She shrugs and her eyes flit to me and damn it. I should have captured that moment. The more I watch her, the more beautiful she gets.
“I guess I shouldn’t be,” she concedes. “It’s just surprising is all. The reality of it. You live your life through that lens.”
I clear my throat and plaster on a smile because she just stepped into a minefield and has not one single clue. My father’s voice echoes down to me through the years, repeating that same phrase. You can’t live your life through that lens. Jenny is gone. Don’t leave us, too. Not while you’re still here.
“Just one of the challenges of making my living off it, I guess.” I watch her through the ca
mera so she can’t see the strain on my face. “The more pictures I take, the more opportunity comes my way.”
Dakota nods. “I see that.” She pauses to stretch, reaching her arms up over her head and rising up onto her toes. I get a flash of what she might look like, all stretched out and naked on a bed in front of me. “How many of those are going to end up on Instagram?”
“Only the good ones.”
“So, like, none of me. That’s a relief. ” She smiles again, that big one that lights up her face. That stretches her mouth just a little too wide. The one she uses when she’s trying to be funny. It’s not her real smile. I’ve seen her real smile and it’s stunning.
“I was thinking more like all of the ones of you.”
And bingo. There it is. What I’ve come to think of as her real smile. It’s softer. Gentler. It doesn’t fight her eyes for control, it just makes them sparkle. I like making her look like that.
We come to a river and she pauses on the rocky bank, crouches and dips her fingers down in the water just to feel how cool it is against her skin. “I think I was born in the wrong place.” She stands. “I should have grown up near the water.”
“You did.” I gesture toward the river. “I’m sure this isn’t the only river nearby.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t what I mean. I’m talking about the ocean. Or a river that stretches wide. This one’s pretty, don’t get me wrong. But…” She runs a hand along her head, smoothing back the hairs that have fallen out of her ponytail. “I sometimes daydream about saving up a little money, buying a shack on the beach—”
“A shack? You don’t strike me as the type to go without running water.”
Dakota shrugs. “I might surprise you. Besides, it’s just a daydream.” A smile. Her hands on her hips. A cock of her head. Damn, I wish I had my camera on her right now. “A realistic daydream, I guess, because I’m fully aware I couldn’t afford more than a shack.”
“What would you do? In your shack on the beach?”
“I don’t know.” A blush runs across her cheeks. “In my daydream I get by selling bracelets or something. Make just enough money to feed myself. I honestly don’t need a lot. I just want to be there instead of here.”
“Now there’s something I can understand. That desire to move. To go. To explore.”
She nods her agreement. “To experience. To learn. I feel stuck here.” I can tell she’s surprised by the admission.
“Can you even make bracelets?”
“No.” Dakota laughs. “Like I said, it’s just a fantasy. I have a lot of them.”
There’s a fallen tree near the bank. She wanders over and takes a seat and I sit next to her. “Oh yeah? Like what else?”
“Oh no. I’m not sharing.” Her eyes bounce to my mouth and her shoulder brushes mine.
“Oh, I think you’re going to share.” I put the edge of command into my voice and damn if her pupils don’t dilate. Her lips part. Her chest heaves. She hears it and she likes it and my cock springs to life.
“It’s gonna cost you,” she says, pursing her lips and lifting her eyebrows.
“Is it now?”
“Yep.” She looks out over the water. “I don’t just give this shit away for free. My deepest darkest secrets. You’re gonna have to work for it, Kane.”
It’s a challenge. I can hear it. All in good fun, I know, but it drives me crazy. I’m not sure what she thinks she’s going to get out of me, but I lean in close, invading her space. Her eyes drop to my mouth again and she licks her lips. “Oh yeah?” I ask. “What’s it gonna cost me?”
Dakota swallows hard. “A secret for a secret,” she whispers, unnerved by my proximity.
“What if I have something else in mind?”
“Depends what you have in mind.”
There’s only one thing on my mind right now, but I don’t answer. This is one of those instances where it’s just better to show her. I slide my hand up the back of Dakota’s head, pull her close, and kiss her.
Chapter Ten
Dominic’s hand is in my hair, pulling a little, just the way I like it. His mouth is on mine, just the way I’ve been dreaming about since last night. My back arches involuntarily, pressing my breasts into his chest. I part my lips, inviting him in, darting my tongue out to meet his when he accepts my invitation. I lean into him, offering more of myself to him, wanting his other hand on my body.
When he finally slides that other hand up my arm, I sigh, my breath mingling with his. He twines a hand in my ponytail. Grabs hold. Pulls back. I gasp and find myself looking at blue sky and sunlight filtering through the green leaves above me. His mouth is on my neck, kissing along my jawline and nibbling on my ear. I moan and he slides his other hand up even further, cups a breast, squeezes. My legs part, again, almost without my permission.
As his mouth travels down to my breasts, my chest heaving, my panties getting wetter by the second, I realize that it wouldn’t take much for me to give myself to him right here and right now. This is new, even for me. I’m adventurous, but sex in the woods? Out in the open? I can’t believe that’s even a possibility.
But it is. Holy hell. It is.
I want his mouth back on mine, but his hand is still in my hair, pulling my head back. I slide my hands up under his sleeves, squeezing his biceps. “Please kiss me again.” I whisper because that’s all I can manage, this breathy rush of words.
He releases my hair and I bring my mouth to his. Wrap my arms around him and shiver as he slides his hands up my back, under my shirt. I’m seriously considering climbing into his lap and wrapping my legs around him. Grinding my hips into him. Feeling him grow hard against me.
The crackling of feet crunching sticks and leaves.
A woman laughing.
The excited chatter of children.
I hear it before I see it and pull away from Dominic, panting. I smooth back my hair and check my shirt to make sure the girls are still covered while Dominic adjusts his pants and wipes his mouth. I can’t help but look at his crotch and yes. He’s hard and straining against his zipper and I just want to touch it. Feel him grow even harder in my hand and know that he wants me.
Instead, we scoot away from each other. Create some space between our bodies even though we’re still fucking each other with our eyes. Dominic grins and I bite my lower lip.
“Don’t do that,” he growls. “It just makes me want to do it for you.” The hunger in his eyes makes my belly clench and I squeeze my thighs together, silently urging the family that interrupted us to move on so we can get back to where we were.
Of course, the kids take one look at the river and come running into our little quiet spot, splashing around and throwing rocks, squawking at each other in excitement. The parents catch our eye and wave. In fact, they look dangerously close to coming over for a chat and I am so not in the mood to share Dominic with strangers right now. I want his eyes on me. His hands on me. His lips on me. His attention on me.
As if he reads my mind, Dominic stands up and offers me his hand. We leave the little alcove with a nod towards the family. Dominic wraps an arm around my shoulder and I swear I melt right into him, like I’m at home for the first time in a long time. We walk in silence for a while, and I’m totally fine with that. I’m busy remembering the feel of his hands in my hair, his lips on my chest, and trying to control the urge to jump him right here and now.
“So really, I can’t get it out of my head,” Dominic says as we emerge from the woods and head towards his rental car.
“Get what out of your head?” It’s a silly question, I know, because I’m pretty damn sure he means the super yummy make out session we just had in the woods.
“You and your daydream about the shack on the beach. You really don’t strike me as the simple life kind of gal.”
I hide my disappointment with one of my patented Dakota London super smiles. “Look around you, Kane. This place just screams simple life.”
Dominic shrugs off the heavy pack and throw
s it in the trunk. “You keep saying that, but I don’t know if you’re prepared for the realities of a true simple life. You wake up and turn on the lights. Check the time on your phone. Brew your coffee. Drive to work in your car. Could you really do without those things?”
“Oh hell yeah. The fact that you even have to ask that shows just how little you know about me.”
And you were contemplating a wild wilderness romp with this man, says my inner voice of self-condemnation. On your first date, nonetheless. No wonder Chelsea worries so much about you.
“Then you’ll just have to enlighten me.” Dominic opens my car door for me and closes it once I’m tucked safely inside. I watch him cross in front of the car and wonder just how much enlightening I should do. We’re crossing into ‘things I’ve never told anyone about myself’ territory. Is Dominic Kane really the first one I want to tell this stuff to? Even before Maya and Chelsea?
As he slides into the driver’s seat, I realize that yes. Dominic is the person I want to share this stuff with because of all the people I know, he’s the one who’s most likely to understand. I wait for him to start the car and get us back on the road. He’s got his phone on his lap again, map open, navigating him somewhere that isn’t my apartment.
“Have you ever heard of shipping container homes?” I kind of blurt out the question. It may be my most awkward segue into a conversation ever.
“Yeah.” Dominic’s eyes light up. “People are buying shipping containers for cheap and turning them into living spaces. It’s part of the tiny house movement.”
“Exactly.” The fact that he not only knows what I’m talking about, but also sounds excited about it bolsters my confidence. I go right on and blurt out one of my most secret daydreams. “I want to build one. Go full solar and figure out a water catchment system so I can go off grid. Plop it down in some remote area and just make my life small. Make the whole world my home.” I shrug. It sounds so plain out in the open like that. When so many people are busy chasing more money, more things, more stuff, it’s kind of anti-climactic to admit that I just want to exist on less and less.