Dillon couldn’t believe how warm and tight she was. At that moment, he would have given everything he owned to stay inside her. This was life. He and Monique. One body. One heart.
She lifted her hips toward him in an age-old motion, and he joined her in her quest for release. He wanted this for her as much as—if not more than— he wanted it for himself, and he was determined to hold out until she got what she wanted.
He didn’t have to wait long. He felt the tremor in her body, then saw the passion flare in her eyes right before her scream of pleasure told him she’d reached her goal. He reached his seconds later.
When Monique came back down to earth, Dillon was collapsed across her, his body deadweight. He was heavy, but it was a good heavy. She cherished the feel of him against her and kissed his shoulder to tell him so.
“Am I too heavy?” he asked.
She shook her head, then realized he couldn’t see her. “You’re perfect,” she said and meant it. He was perfect. He was the perfect father and the perfect lover.
He raised up and looked down into her eyes. “I bet you say that to all your lovers.”
She lowered her eyes and felt immediately shy before him.
He kissed her eyelids. “Please don’t do that. I’m sorry. I was only teasing.”
She still didn’t look at him.
“Please, sweetheart. Don’t leave me.” He kissed her lips lightly. “Don’t leave me.”
She didn’t fight his kiss, and when he pulled away she did look at him. He was so dear to her. So dear that he could break her heart if she allowed him.
“No regrets?” he asked.
She shook her head.
He nipped at her lips again. “Good.”
She would have liked to hear more than “Good,” but she knew the words wouldn’t be worth much if she had to ask for them. “I think I’d better get dressed,” she said, feeling the moment was over. What they’d shared had been beautiful from her perspective, but now the reality of their situation faced her. Nothing had changed between them.
“Why?” he asked, rolling off her and pulling her snugly into his arms. “I don’t want you to go.”
She wanted to ask him why, but settled for relaxing against him. “I’m going to have to go home sometime,” she said.
He stroked his fingers across her taut nipples while he pressed light kisses across her face. “Why?”
For the life of her she couldn’t think of an answer. She didn’t want to. Following his lead, she took up the exploration of his body she’d begun earlier. His skin was warm and smooth and she wanted to touch every inch of it.
Feeling a boldness that was new to her, she rolled over until she sat across his lap as he lay on the bed. She watched his eyes widen and his lips open as she massaged his chest, taking special care to tweak his nipples much as he’d done to hers.
His groan of pleasure encouraged her, and she became bolder in her touch. She leaned down and suckled first one nipple and then the other, marveling at their tautness and at the pleasure her lips seemed to give him.
She moved from his chest up to his neck and to his mouth. She started the kiss, but he took over and soon she was again flat on her back with him poised above her like a bronze god. Her bronze god.
Dillon didn’t think he could let her go. Not now. Not tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow. He hadn’t liked the panic he felt when she’d said she wanted to get dressed. He couldn’t let her leave him now. They had too much time to make up for. There was no way that one night would be enough for him. Had they not gone this far, maybe he could have continued to deny himself. But having tasted her again, he knew there was no way he could do without her.
He stared into her eyes, loving the play of emotions that danced in them. He saw a passion and a hint of fear that he knew were mirrored in his own eyes. He knew there were questions between them. But whether they needed to make love wasn’t one of them. No, the lovemaking they shared now was essential for both of them. He was sure of it.
He eased himself into her again, not able to wait any longer. Her eyes widened and the pressure of her hands on his arms increased as he sought refuge within her. He thought again about her tightness, her wetness and her warmth. She was perfect. And for now, she was his.
When he was fully seated within her, he stopped moving. He just stared into her eyes and let his heart speak for him. He wanted her to know that he didn’t take what they shared lightly. It was only when he thought she understood that he began to move again, starting with long, slow strokes that teased both of them.
She matched his motion and they soon fell into a sweet rhythm that he knew would end in a crashing refrain. Her soft hands caressed his chest and her sweet kisses followed them, imprinting her touch all over his body. His pace increased with the boldness of his strokes, and soon they were near the precipice again. He deliberately slowed his pace to give her more time.
Monique knew Dillon wanted to make this time slower and sweeter, but she didn’t want slow and sweet. She wanted hot and fast. “Now,” she murmured, lifting her hips against him. “Now.”
Dillon didn’t need much coaxing. He immediately picked up the pace and gave her what she wanted.
Chapter Fourteen
Monique awoke to the warmth of Dillon’s breath on her bare breast and his strong arm wrapped around her waist. She felt a moment of sheer bliss, a rightness between herself and the world around her, which she knew was because of him and what they’d shared. Magical moments. Moments that erased all time and all pain. Moments of giving and receiving.
The first time she and Dillon had made love, they’d been young, inexperienced and very much in love. Tonight she’d felt much the same. Dillon made her feel alive and much younger than her twenty-eight years. She was a kid again, with all the hopes that happy, well-adjusted kids had. There was something about him, and her with him, that made her think dreams could come true.
She brushed her hand lightly across his head and placed a soft kiss against his brow. In his sleep, he looked as innocent as Glenn or Calvin. And he also looked content and happy. It pleasured her to know that she was responsible for that contentment and happiness. Or, at least, part of it. She kissed his brow again, enjoying the opportunity to give him yet more of herself. She’d given him her body and her soul earlier, and now she was giving him her heart.
He doesn’t want your heart, a harsh voice much like her aunt’s said inside her head. All he wanted was your body, and you’ve already given that to him.
She squeezed her eyes shut and wanted to press her hands to her ears to keep the sounds away from the paradise she’d found. She didn’t want reality to invade. Not yet. She needed more time.
She traced a finger down Dillon’s jaw and thought of the many caresses and kisses they’d shared in the past few hours. More than she could count. Yet not enough. Not nearly enough. At least not for her. She wasn’t so sure about him.
She dropped her hand to her side and no longer touched him. How she wished she could slip from this bed and his presence without having to face him. Without having to see the regret that she feared would be in his eyes. She much preferred to end the evening with the memory of the heated passion that had glazed his eyes each time he’d entered her, or the caring contentment she saw there each time he carried her over the edge. Those were the expressions she wanted to carry in her heart. All would have been right with the world if she could have taken what they’d shared tonight, bottled it and wore it as her own personal scent. A beautiful memory of a wondrous evening of love.
She looked down at him sleeping so peacefully and fought the urge to close her eyes and snuggle against him. No, now wasn’t the time to snuggle, she told herself. Now was the time to take action. To prepare herself for Dillon’s response to what they’d shared.
Gently she tried to ease her body away from his. She managed to free her breast from contact with his head, but he clamped his arm tighter around her waist to keep her from moving away from him. S
he glanced back at him, thinking he’d awakened, only to find him still sleeping. The overhead light, still on since neither of them had had the energy to get up and turn it off before drifting off to sleep around two, illuminated the contented features of the masculine face that was so dear to her.
Again she considered sliding back against him. But she knew that was impractical. She couldn’t spend the night with Dillon. Elberton was too small a town with too much of a penchant for gossip for her to even consider the idea. No, she had to get home tonight. She couldn’t risk someone seeing Dillon drive her home in the morning.
She pushed at his arms to no avail. The more she pushed, the tighter he seemed to hold on. She glanced at his face again. This time she saw a twitch in his lips.
“Dillon, are you awake?” she asked.
He smiled and she went all soft inside. She fortified her resolve not to slide down next to him and let him take advantage of her softness.
“Where are you trying to go?” he asked. His fingers massaged the smooth skin of her waist and she almost forgot his question.
“I have to go home,” she said, fighting the urge to return his caress. “It’s late.”
“Stay,” he whispered. “Please stay.”
His words rocked her as his earlier caresses had. But she couldn’t stay. “I can’t spend the night here,” she said. “People will talk. Think about the boys.”
His hands stopped their caress and he opened his eyes. “Think about us.”
That was the problem. She could barely think of anything or anyone but them. She pushed again at his arms and this time he relaxed his hold and allowed her to get up. His masculine perusal of her naked body when she slid out of the bed put her at a distinct disadvantage. He wanted her again, and his eyes told her so. She was sure hers told him the same thing.
She shook her head to break the spell he’d cast over her and turned around to look for her clothes. His warm body pressed behind her before she could pick up her blue satin panties from the floor.
“Stay,” he whispered again, then proceeded to place teasing kisses along her neck and shoulders.
God help her, she was weakening. “I can’t, Dillon, and you know it.” His kisses continued and she had to fight not to give in to them. “What will people think when they see you taking me home in the morning? By tomorrow afternoon, everybody in Elberton will know we spent the night together.”
Dillon knew he needed to take Monique home. And not only for the reason she’d stated. Sure, they needed to be careful of the gossips because of the boys. But he also knew he needed to take her home before she burrowed herself any deeper under his skin. He didn’t even want to think about his heart.
But he didn’t seem to be able to let her go. He turned her around and kissed her full on the lips, causing the protest he saw forming there to die before it was fully formed. She tasted so good to him, so sweet. Apples, he thought. Red, luscious apples.
And she gave so generously. Even now, when he knew she was serious about leaving for the night, she gave. Her slim arms slid up his chest and around his neck as she pressed her naked body close to him. His body rose in response to her closeness, and he was sure she could feel how much he wanted her.
A voice inside his head told him again that he was getting in too deep, that he needed to be careful. Fool me once the thought began, but he lost it when she slipped her tongue in his open mouth and set about raising his body temperature a good twenty degrees.
She pulled away first, sighing then resting her head against his chest. “I still have to go home,” she said.
He groaned at the need he felt. The need he knew would go unmet tonight. “I know,” he said, then stepped back from her, not bothering to hide his arousal.
Her glance slid down then back up to his face before she turned and slipped on her panties. He sat back on the bed and watched her dress, thinking how odd for him to be so aroused at her putting on her clothes. Then he realized he was jealous of her clothes. Jealous because they rested against her naked skin. Jealous because they were filled with her scent. Man, he was losing it.
She didn’t turn to him until she was fully clothed. “You’re not dressed,” she accused.
The practical side of his nature knew he was about to commit a grave error, but that side didn’t have a chance against the side that still needed Monique. He extended his hand to her. “Please,” he said. “I need you.”
Monique could have resisted most any other plea, but she couldn’t resist his “I need you” and the accompanying lack of regret in his eyes. She placed her hand in his. “I need you, too, but we have to. think about the boys.”
He tugged on her hand and she tumbled down on his lap. “I am thinking about the boys,” he said, laving his tongue against her ear.
“You don’t act like it.” She squirmed on his lap when one of his hands tugged at her blouse. “You have to take me home.”
He managed to get her blouse out of the waistband of her trousers, then slid his hand underneath and touched the bare skin of her stomach. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”
“When?” she asked as she opened her mouth for his kiss.
When the kiss ended, they were both breathless. “When?” she asked again.
“Sunday,” he answered then kissed her again. This time his hand worked at the buttons of her blouse. Once they were all undone, he slipped her blouse down her shoulders and onto the floor.
“Sunday?” she managed to choke out. His fingers were now working at the hooks on her bra while she waited eagerly for the feel of his hands on her bare breasts. “What will people say?”
He kissed her again. “They won’t say anything because they won’t know anything. Your car is parked at your house, so for all everybody knows you’re home now.”
“But tomorrow,” she protested, then moaned when his fingers tweaked one of her nipples.
Dillon made quick work of getting her out of her slacks and panties, so that she was again naked against him. “Don’t worry about tomorrow,” he said, pressing her back onto the bed. “You’re not leaving this bed until Sunday when we go pick up the boys.”
Any protests Monique had were smothered in his tender and not-so-tender caresses.
The soft lushness of Monique’s body sprawled across his chest called to Dillon when he awoke from their last bout of lovemaking. Even in her sleep, she mesmerized him, entranced him, beckoned him. And he was unable and unwilling to ignore the pull.
He lowered his head to kiss her and a noise caught his attention. He looked down at the sleeping Monique before easing her gently away from his body. It only took him a few moments to realize the source of the noise. He quickly got up from the bed and tugged on the pants he’d so hastily discarded the night before. He was definitely going to have to get his key back from Donald.
Sure enough, when he got to the front of the house, Donald, still dressed in his police uniform, was scrounging through his refrigerator.
His brother pulled a pitcher out of the fridge and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. “You’ve got to start stowing some brewski, my brother,” Donald said, pouring himself a glass of grape juice. “This stuff is for the birds.”
Dillon strode to his brother, placed the juice back in the refrigerator and closed the door. Then he extended his open palm. “My key,” he said, wiggling his fingers in request. “How many times have I told you to knock?”
Donald looked at his brother’s open palm then at his face. He turned and walked, glass of juice in hand, to the living room and plopped down on the couch. “It’s been a heck of a night,” he said, propping his feet on Dillon’s coffee table.
Dillon chastised himself for being so hard on his brother. “What happened?” he asked, concerned. He’d not been particularly happy with Donald’s chosen profession. His brother sometimes seemed too carefree for the life-threatening job of policeman. But Donald had shown himself to be a capable and responsible officer. Dillon didn’t worry about him as
much as he had when he’d first gotten on the force, but he still worried.
“Family dispute.” Donald swigged his glass of juice. “Man, I hate those things.”
Dillon nodded, understanding his brother’s feelings. Having grown up in a secure and stable family, neither Bell brother could fully understand families in distress. “Who was it?” Dillon asked.
Donald placed his glass on the table and wiped both his hands down his face. At that moment, Dillon wished for the teasing, carefree brother who at most times drove him crazy. “The Gray sons,” he said. “Who else?”
The Grayson family was Elberton’s current family in crisis. As vice principal, Dillon had had his share of interactions with the family. An alcoholic father, a scared wife and a teenage daughter meant trouble more days than not. “Was it bad?” Dillon asked.
“The girl ran away,” Donald said. “She ran away.” He looked at his brother. “A fifteen-year-old girl ran away from home, and her parents are fighting about whose fault it is. Tell me, where’s the justice in that?”
Dillon placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed. He didn’t have any answers for him. Life was hard for a lot of people. And unfair though it was, sometimes the people that it was hardest on were children. He’d hoped that the Grayson girl would somehow beat the odds. He regretfully accepted that the school system could only do so much for a child.
He glanced toward the door to the room in which Monique lay sleeping peacefully. Her life hadn’t been the easiest. She and her aunt had never really gotten along. And as close as he and Monique had been, she’d never really talked about her problems. Sure, she’d made some vague comments about her aunt not really wanting her, but he hadn’t had the experience then to understand fully what that had meant. To him, family were people you could count on no matter what. Sure, they disagreed—even argued—but when it was over, they stood together. Not so with Monique and her aunt, and not so with the Graysons.
Second Chance Dad Page 14