She didn’t usually like sweet things for breakfast, but he seemed so pleased that she nodded. “All right.”
When she moved toward the fridge in the kitchenette area, he waved her away. “Go sit by the fire,” he said. “I’ve got this.”
“I can get my own breakfast,” she told him, tensing. I’m not helpless. I can feed myself.
He nodded. “I know. But I want to do this for you, since I wrecked everything last night.”
You didn’t wreck everything, she wanted to say. But deep conversation wasn’t what they needed right now. “Okay, then, get my breakfast for me. That would be nice.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a grin, a bit of his confidence resurfacing.
“Hold on.” She stopped him as he turned toward the kitchen. “Bow properly, please. Feet together, hands at your sides.” As though he were one of her students, being corrected for proper protocol on the training floor.
He stopped and stared at her for a moment, slightly shocked but with a flash of something unexpected in his eyes. Arousal? What the hell? She’d been kidding, but he slowly made a deep bow. “Yes, ma’am. Like this?” She could see his throat move as he swallowed, then his chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. Weird.
“Like that. Yeah.”
He moved into the kitchen, started setting out plates and microwaving the crêpes. “You asked why I play so many instruments,” he said casually, as though nothing intense had just happened.
“Right. Seven, is it?”
“Eight if you count harmonica, more if you count percussion stuff — tambourines and shit. I basically grew up on the road with whatever bands Mom was following, right? Other groupies were my aunties, roadies were my babysitters. Piano was Mom’s thing, so she taught me that, probably as soon as I could sit upright at the keyboard, I don’t really remember. Then I picked up whatever anyone wanted to teach me, did any job I was given, played whatever they threw at me. I was fourteen the first time I got shoved in front of a crowd, hat and sunglasses to hide my age, to fill in for a support band guitarist who was too drunk to go onstage.”
“Didn’t you go to school?”
“Oh, sure, two dozen different schools. Mom would stop and rent an apartment somewhere and teach piano, I’d go to school for a term, then she’d fall head over heels for another band and we’d move on.”
Nell suppressed a shudder. “I don’t think I could handle living like that.”
“It was all right,” Eamonn said, bringing her a plate of warm crêpes rolled up around strawberry filling, syrupy red sweetness oozing from the ends. He had a can of whipped cream in his other hand. “You want cream?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at the confection in front of her, shaking her head. “Protein shakes are usually more my speed.”
He held out the can with a tempting lift of one eyebrow. When she hesitated, he gave the cream a shake, holding the tip down toward her plate. “You’re on vacation. Splurge a little.” He glanced down at the can in his hand and then toward her chest, his voice deepening as he added, “If I don’t get to lick this off you, at least let me watch you eat it.”
Damn. Her breath left her in a rush. “You, uh…” She couldn’t articulate the thought, held tight to the plate on her lap so it wouldn’t slide to the floor. He knelt in front of her.
“If you had your shirt off, babe, I’d lay you down and put this—” he squeezed a ruffled line of whipped cream across her crêpes “—right across there.” He reached out and drew a line in the air, his eyes dark with desire, and she felt it as though he’d actually stroked his finger across her chest. “Then I’d lick up every bit of it.”
Unable to hold his gaze, she looked at her plate, feeling conflicted. “I’m… I’m not ready to not be mad at you yet.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “As long as I still have a chance, I’m a happy man. Eat.”
He’d forgotten to give her a knife and fork, so she scooped up a bit of cream with one finger and licked it off, watching as a sexy smile spread across his face. “This’ll be a bit messy if I have to eat it all with my fingers.”
That made him laugh and broke the tension. “Let me get you a knife and fork.” He jumped up and strode over to the kitchenette. When he came back, he had silverware in one hand and a mug of tea for her in the other. “I thought you’d want tea with your breakfast, yeah?”
And though her first impulse was to tell him he should ask rather than assuming what she wanted, she swallowed the words and said, “Thank you. That’s perfect.” Because it was.
After they’d eaten, Nell decided to do a load of laundry, since the rain and wind seemed heavier and she thought the power might go out. Who knew how long they’d be stuck at Champagne Cascades? The generator would run the emergency lighting and keep the kitchen fridge and freezer on, but it wouldn’t be enough for extras like laundry.
She’d planned to read while she waited for the dryer to finish, but Eamonn came and lounged against the doorway to the laundry room, saying, “Hey, I found a fun-looking board game in that games room across there. D’you like fantasy games? This one’s called Crowns & Exiles.” He held out a small plastic crown, evidently a game piece. “You want to check it out with me?”
As he was setting up the pieces and she was reading the instructions, the faint but unmistakable sound of a siren made them look at each other in puzzlement, and then concern as it grew louder.
“That sounds like it’s on its way here,” he said.
Nell nodded. “I’d better go outside. Coming?”
As they reached the driveway in front of the office, a truck marked Sheriff pulled up, and a man in uniform jumped out. “Is it just the two of you still onsite?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m Nell Whelan, property supervisor, and this is my assistant Eamonn Yarrow. What can we do for you?”
“Leave with me now,” the sheriff said. “There’s flash flooding coming down the river and we need to evacuate the area immediately.”
Fortunately, the deputy agreed that Eamonn could drive his own truck, following the official vehicle until they were out of the flood zone. It seemed that a dam farther up the river was in danger of giving way after some seismic activity, and even though the resort was on high ground, flash flooding was unpredictable. The Sheriff’s Department rules superseded any Wildforest Vacations dictums about the supervisor or manager staying on-site.
They stopped briefly in Twisp so Nell could call the office while she was able to get a phone signal. She left a message for Tommy, updating him on the situation and their planned return, and then she and Eamonn stopped at a bakery for his coffee and her tea — and some heavenly cinnamon twists — before they hit the road.
He cranked up his classic rock playlist, and she stared out the window at the rain.
“Are you hungry?” he asked when they passed through Wenatchee.
“Not really,” she said.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t hungry, more that she couldn’t bear the thought of stopping for a cozy pub dinner as they’d done before. Then, she’d been fending off his teasing and flirting, a sort of game that both of them had been well equipped to play. Now, she had a vacation’s ended feeling hanging over her, and the teasing and flirting had blown up into full-on sexual tension she didn’t know how they’d resolve now that their fairytale vacation was coming to an end.
They weren’t going to date, were they? Rock star Easy Yarrow wasn’t going to take her to the movies and out for dinner back in Seattle. But the idea of just being a casual booty call for him didn’t sit well with her either. Why not, though? Nothing wrong with getting our mutual needs met. Still, she didn’t know how she’d be able to deal with him in the office even now — she kept thinking of the hot tub, and the feel of that giant rocket in her hand and how she’d almost wrecked his self-control, the explosive kiss they’d shared and the way he’d needed a moment to just breathe. If she let him into her bed…
“Hey,” Eamonn said. When she turned to look at him, he gave her a hesitant half-smile and slid an arm around her shoulders, slowly, as though giving her the chance to pull away if she wanted to. They hadn’t kissed or even really touched since she’d gotten out of the hot tub. “Come here, lovely,” he murmured, easing her toward him. It wasn’t quite a question, but it sounded like one, or at least a request for permission.
“You and your nicknames,” she said softly, but she could feel herself starting to smile. And without meaning to, she let herself be drawn in, saw all the hunger and need and aching in his eyes in that split moment before she lifted her face to his and he leaned down and his lips touched hers.
Maybe he’d only meant a brief kiss goodnight, or goodbye, but the moment his mouth covered hers, it blew up into shattering need, his tongue pushing between her lips like he was making love to her. She felt his free hand cup her breast and she moaned and pressed into his touch. Their kisses almost absorbed his gasp of delight, the urgency with which he sucked on her lower lip, biting gently. Everything in the world vanished but his touch, his strength, his mouth, and the dizzying sweetness between them.
“Nella-bella,” he murmured between kisses, “I’m feeling pretty damn desperate, enough to start stripping us down right here in my truck where anyone can see.” A hand trailed down to play with the waistband of her yoga pants, dipping toward tempting heaven. “You want to invite me upstairs?”
In some fuzzy part of her brain, Nell knew they’d already complicated things beyond belief. But taking him upstairs? She wrenched herself upright, and said, “No. Eamonn, I… I don’t want to stop either, but I don’t know what we’re doing here, and…”
He stopped. Let her go with a groan, popped open his door, and jumped down. For a moment, she saw him lean against the side of the truck and press his face into his arm, then he came around and opened her door for her, holding out a hand to help her descend.
She took it. Stepped down onto the sidewalk. “Thank you.”
“Is this just not tonight, or not ever?” he asked slowly, his face tense.
“This is — we have to see each other at work tomorrow. We’re not strangers, we’re not dating. You shake me up, Eamonn. I don’t know what we are or where this is going, but right at this moment I can’t handle being a bed buddy tonight and a co-worker tomorrow.”
He sighed. “Yeah. Well, let me know.” He opened the rear door and grabbed her bag, handed it to her. “Walking you up to the door is too damned much temptation. I’ll watch you from here, to see you get inside safely.”
“I can take care of myself,” she reminded him, but the words came out sounding more resigned than fierce.
“I know, ninja woman. I’m still going to watch you until you’re in.”
“Fine, then maybe you should call me when you get home, so I know you’re safe.”
“Fishing for my phone number?” he asked with a muted laugh, but he got out his phone and handed it to her, open to the New Contact screen. “Give me yours, and I’ll call you when I’m in bed.”
“Right.” She handed his phone back to him, settled the strap of her bag on her shoulder, and nodded. “I’m off.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, lightly, but it made her scalp tingle. “I’ll talk to you in a bit,” he said.
“Yeah.” She turned and sprinted for the front door of her building, though running made no sense and her bag bumped awkwardly against her hip.
Home. It felt good to be back in her space — small and nothing fancy, but all hers. She took a two-minute shower and pulled on an old district championships t-shirt in place of pajamas. She’d got the t-shirt the first time she’d competed at the district level as a teenager, before she’d ever gone to nationals. It was a tighter fit now than it had been back then and the graphics were faded from washing, but the old shirt still brought up happy memories and a security blanket feeling. It’s just a clean t-shirt, she told herself. Nothing to do with wanting comfort.
But she couldn’t avoid the thought that she’d chosen to be alone, that Eamonn could have been there with her if she hadn’t stopped him. Yes, it would have been complicated afterward. But damn, the fireworks might have been worth it.
She didn’t really think he’d call to say he’d made it home safely, but just after she’d gotten into bed with her book, her phone rang, an unknown number on the call display. “Hello?”
“Hey, ninja woman. I’m safe at home,” Eamonn’s voice came over the line, low and intimate. “Where are you? In bed yet?”
She’d never been a liar. “Yes.”
“Wish I were there with you.”
And what could she say to that? “Regret is a waste of time.”
She heard him chuckle softly. “You regret sending me home, do you?”
“Tomorrow’s going to be weird anyway, isn’t it? And if you were here…” She couldn’t finish that sentence. You’d be inside me right now? We’d be falling apart together?
“I know, babe,” he said, his voice deepening, with that thick quality she now knew meant he was aroused. She heard a rustling of sheets and a muffled squeak: the sound a mattress makes when someone shifts position.
“Are you in bed too?” she asked. There was something oddly intimate about that, both of them in bed, talking. Not together, but together.
“Yeah.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Just talking to you like this has got me so hard, it’s ridiculous.”
His words sent a rush of heat over Nell and she snuggled deeper into her blankets, wondering if he slept naked, if… “Are you getting yourself off?” she blurted, before she could censor the words.
“No, but I will before I sleep.” That admission came out in a low, sexy voice that made the air in the room seem somehow thin. “As soon as we hang up. And I’ll be thinking of you.”
And that was it, fuse lit. Didn’t matter that she’d done the smart thing and sent him home earlier, she’d gone off the deep end now, thrown herself into the fire. She couldn’t deny it, might as well embrace it. “Why hang up?”
“You want me to…” He didn’t finish the sentence, and she heard a gasping breath as he wrapped his mind around what she’d just said.
“I want to listen as you come,” she told him. “Be loud for me. Let me hear it.”
“Fuck me,” he muttered, then a deep groan told her he’d settled himself to it, and a rush of answering wetness soaked her underpants. “Just thinking about you is wrecking me, lovely.” His voice sounded ragged, barely coherent.
“Hearing you like this…” She pictured his beautiful inked body, his big hands and the massive cock she’d wrapped her hand around in the hot tub — she imagined him stroking himself now, and a little moan of frustration and hunger escaped her as she listened to him work.
A gasping laugh answered her. “You’re turned on too, huh? Join me?”
She’d never considered taking care of herself with someone listening, knowing, but in this moment she was so achy and frustrated — and the sounds he made were so deliciously sexy — that she murmured, “Okay,” and rubbed a hand across her aching nipples before sliding downward into her underpants to ease the tension there. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” And then in surprise, “Whoa, I am never this wet!” She imagined his fingers instead of her own.
“Oh, Nell, baby… stroke that juicy peach for me… I’m so hard right now, I think I’d split you in two…” His gritty murmur told her he was almost there.
“I’m tough enough to take you,” she choked out. Sensation swirled and crashed over her, with frantic fingers and imagination an
d hearing his gasps and groans over the phone, until she just barely managed to whisper, “Coming…” in the split second before her climax rocked through her. And his wordless growl in response was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.
They lay there in silence for a minute, in their separate beds but somehow feeling close, listening over the phone to each other’s breathing as it gradually slowed back to normal.
“That pretty much blew my mind, Nella-bella,” Eamonn said at last, his voice hoarse.
“It was something,” Nell agreed sleepily. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eamonn. Sleep well.”
It was Wednesday again — Nell’s equivalent to Monday. Even though she’d worked through her “weekend” up at Champagne Cascades, she was expected to be in the office. She’d have to go through the HR department to arrange days in lieu; she couldn’t just take them.
She did her workout and made her protein shake, as always. Refused to put on makeup or fuss with her hair, but she chose the least terrible of her hated business casual outfits, a black cap-sleeved wrap blouse and black slacks that at least had pockets and a bit of stretch. She’d never told anyone that she imagined herself as a ninja in that particular combination.
And she spent the whole bus ride to work thinking about Eamonn. Like iron pulled toward a magnet, she wanted to see him, but she also dreaded it a little. How will we handle this? Will he keep things professional at work? It seemed a lot to hope for. She didn’t want to be the subject of gossip and titillation.
She felt her familiar sense of satisfaction at being the first to arrive at work, the one to unlock the glass doors. As usual, it soothed her to get herself established before anyone else arrived. Especially Eamonn.
In Nell’s absence, Lila had allowed the reception area and kitchenette to devolve into mild chaos — the glossy vacation magazines were haphazardly stacked on the end tables, with sticky coffee rings showing that the tables hadn’t been wiped down at all, and the kitchen sink was full of dirty mugs and a coffee filter full of grounds that hadn’t been disposed of. Nell allowed herself the private luxury of a headshake and sigh before she set to work sorting out the situation. Squaring everything away eased her tension a bit and made her feel more in control, as always. She filled up the photocopier with paper, since five of the six trays were nearly empty, made herself a cup of tea, and headed for her office to get started on her own day’s work.
Rock God in Exile (Smidge Book 2) Page 12