“Knight,” I moan on a little pant of breath.
My lifelong insecurities tug at my brain and then settle into my heart until they overwhelm me, haunting me with their truth and their lies. My fingertips touch his stubble, then wind into his thick hair, pulling him closer. My lips ask for what my brain refuses to acknowledge. Him. All of him. None of him. God, my body and my mind are locked in a confusing tug of war.
I thought our first kiss was a fluke – a misfire of nature much like a shooting star or an asteroid plummeting toward Earth. His response to me is just colored by loneliness and raging testosterone. But what if I’m wrong? What if he really wants me and not just some warm female flesh.
He’s real and he’s here and he’s touching me. Me. He tastes so good, like the woods he loves mixed with a healthy dose of sin. A boom of thunder sounds outside. No, it’s snowing so that can’t be. It’s the rushing of blood through my ears. He leans me back, flat into the fluffy rug I picked out with such painstaking detail. My hands still cup his head, my lips still fused to his, my whole body tightening and blazing heat. The fire paints his face in threads of orange and gold, make his eyes shine like emeralds with gold flecks.
I can’t believe I found a man like this out here in the middle of nowhere. The wonder of that realization keeps sweeping over me like snow on an evergreen bough. I was so lonely and empty and broken. And I accepted that isolation, courted it, because I thought that’s what I deserve. But what if I don’t? What if I deserve more? I gave up believing there was a man out there in the world who would understand me and appreciate my uniqueness. Who matched me in values and outlook on life. A man I could be naked with in every way that mattered.
My eyes pop open when Knight slips my top over my head. My long hair snags on the fabric and he gently extricates it and smooths it. Now would be a good time to stop him. Stop this. But something deep inside me screams no and won’t let me run this time. My breath catches in my chest in anticipation of what’s coming. My heart gallops, whomping against my ribs.
As my body tightens into a taught wire of lust, I realize I’m playing with fire. And like the little Dennis the Menace that puts his fingers on a blazing stove in an act born of defiance, I’m about to get burned. I glance down and realize my torso is bare to his hungry gaze. And I don’t have on sex underwear. My face flames with that knowledge and the fact that he’s looking at my double Ds corralled into a comfortable beige bra that doesn’t have underwire. Dammit. But the last thing I thought would ever happen to me is happening right before my very eyes.
My mind races as I try to remember what panties I have on. And I have no damn idea. I only know that they’re clean. Damn and double damn.
As my gaze meets his, my voice quivers. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Huh?” He gestures to the huge bulge in the front of his jeans. “Pretty sure I do.”
My mind takes snapshots to savor later and my hand reaches out to touch him. His shaft is long and thick and hot. It strains toward me. “No. You really, really don’t.”
He moves my hand away and threads his fingers through mine, keeping them captive. “Tonight is about you and only you, Angel.”
“Oh.”
I remember hearing that same out of body tone falling from my lips at moments just like this one. That I’m-a-huge-whale-so-there’s-no-way-you-could-be-attracted-to-someone-like-me voice. And men have told me that before many times. Target. Costco. Bars all over Iowa. The middle of Main Street. They’ve thought they could do this – have sex with me – and then they changed their minds at the last minute, leaving devastation in their wake. And there’s not much that hurts more to a woman than being rejected in a vulnerable position in her ugly underwear.
My breath catches when he reaches behind me and unhooks my bra. My breasts spill free, tumbling into his huge hands, tightening under the gentlest touch. I don’t know how to argue with a man who refuses to see reason. Who refuses to be told that he really doesn’t want to be naked with me. But in this moment, his actions seem to defy logic and he seems to want to show me how much he does.
My spine arches when he rubs his stubbled cheek in my cleavage. Under the reverent stroke of his tongue, my nipples harden to pebbles. He kisses the shadowed hollow of my collarbone and the velvet spot over my heartbeat. Then he moves to the underside of each breast, careful to give each of them equal attention, even more gently returning to suck each hardened nipple back into his warm mouth.
I buck underneath him, leaning into the pressure, a low moan escaping my lips. After a few tortured moments, his hand drifts down over my curved stomach, down over my jeans as if the fabric isn’t even there. Those wicked fingers flutter between my legs until he cups my women’s heat right through the denim. My legs tighten around him, and I spin, twisting until I end up on top of him.
I fracture underneath the pressure of my own desire. “I can’t…”
I’m not sure what I can’t do, but my whisper is soft and gritty and full of all the emotion I want to surrender to. I’m so tired of fighting who I am inside. Knight doesn’t answer. Instead, he lifts his head and kisses me, taking my mouth and claiming it. My hands reach underneath his flannel shirt, exploring the hair on his chest and his chiseled abs. I hiss in a breath when I feel the flutter of his rapid heartbeat. Or is that mine? Wetness floods my pussy as I grind against him, hoping for a little bit of relief from the throbbing ache.
Shifting my hips, I straddle his thighs and rub against his steely length. My lips discover the shell of his ear and then trail down his jaw until I initiate a kiss for the first time, my tongue slipping between his lips to dance with his.
I can’t remember ever being this hot before. The fire. The man. Like I might combust if I can’t have him in the most carnal way. But lust isn’t sending my body into fits of blazing fire, it’s more the way he’s looking at me like he sees me.
Like I’m beautiful in his eyes. Like I matter.
My body comes alive in a way it never has before – wild and bare. His green gaze turns inky and dark with lust for me and me alone, his touch like fire.
A log crashes in the hearth, sending up sparks. My head shoots up at the thumping noise and another shot of adrenaline rifles through me. The look of the room disorients me – we’ve pushed aside the coffee table and rolled right off the rug and we’re nowhere near where the innocent embrace started. My right hand – the one that was just torturing him with the tease of my fingers at the zipper of his jeans – suddenly jumps back as if bitten. I stare at it as it shakes. My gaze flies to his like someone who just awoke out of a lust-filled dream into the black of night. Alone.
“Knight…”
“Shh. It’s okay, Angel.” He gently caresses my cheek with the grit in his tone. “It’s really okay. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want. You’re safe with me, gorgeous girl. Always. I just want to taste you. We don’t have to do anything else. Will you let me?”
I stare at him, searching for anything in the depths of his gaze that might make me unsure. Seeing none, I nod and lay back, watching.
Waiting.
Aching.
As Knight shimmies my jeans down over my hips, swiping my beige cotton panties with the tiny pink bow down with them, I push a sound past my lips.
It sounds like one of the mating calls Knight might hear in the woods he loves so much.
After he’s done, he rears back and looks at me. Just stares and stares. His huge hands move to my inner thighs and caress the soft skin there. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
A blush heats my cheeks, but for once, I don’t argue. I’m not used to these feelings. The blinding desire to push everything I’ve ever believed about myself to the side and just surrender.
Leaning in, Knight slides his lips over my labia, sipping and nipping his way to my swollen clit. He runs his tongue over my pussy as my heart flips over with the pleasure of it. For once, I’m taking what I want. And I want him with his head between my legs.
My fingers find his thick hair as he pushes my knees further apart. I let out little pants and moans of desire and arch my back into the pressure of his lips and tongue.
“Knight… don’t stop. I’m going to come so hard.” At my strangled groan, his hands moved to my breasts, plucking lightly at my nipples.
The orgasm builds within me like a freight train rolling down a hill, gaining momentum with each passing second. Just one more strangled breath and then it explodes – stars bursting behind my eyes and spasms of pleasure constricting every muscle as my butt lifts right off the floor. It feels like my heart has sprouted wings, ready to catch the slightest breeze and take flight.
When I glance at Knight from underneath my lashes, the flames continue to lick at my belly. The want barely abates.
Maybe it never will.
He plants a tender kiss on my inner thigh. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
Massaging his scalp, I sigh. I’ve never felt more beautiful than I do underneath the weight of this man’s hands and mouth.
For now, that has to be enough.
Chapter Nine
Angelica
I push some sugar packets into the plastic container and set it back down on the Formica with a clap. It’s late, and my shift’s about to end. The blackness of the night lurks just outside the huge front window of Cool Beans. Len hustles around behind the counter, putting muffins away for the night. What doesn’t get eaten always goes to the local church for people in need.
The place is almost devoid of customers except for a book club hovering around the u-shaped corner booth, which gives me a chance to keep up on my side work. I grab the damp towel and wipe down the tabletop to a glossy shine.
As I move on to the next table, I stub my toe and almost do a face plant in the middle of the dining room. Dammit. What is wrong with me? But I already know the answer to that ignorant question. He’s what’s wrong with me. The man with the most wicked tongue this side of the border. A blaze of heat settles into my cheeks as my mind drifts back. I left the only man I’ve ever wanted with every fiber of my being with a raging case of blue balls.
He must hate me.
I shake my head and wipe down the next table. The embarrassment that’s been hounding me for the past four days is purely of a sexual nature. I roll my eyes at the beamed ceiling, wishing I could move to Nome, Alaska where I’d never have to lay eyes on the man again. I got mine, but he didn’t. Does that make me a tease? I don’t know. This has never happened to me before.
There’s no way I can face him after what I did.
Sure, he was kind and gentle and all the things a woman wants when she’s rejected a man’s advances right at the time she wraps her fingers around his dick. But he has to be irritated. Annoyed. Angry. That’s how Dravon would have handled it.
Knight must hate me.
That sentence keeps landing in my brain and it just won’t leave no matter how many times I try to shake it free and tell it to buzz off. So far, he hasn’t wandered into Cool Beans, and I’ve successfully avoided his calls and texts, but my good luck can’t hold forever. Sweetheart Hills is a small town, and he knows where to find me if he does get sick of being ignored.
Hiding from him strikes me as grade school cowardice – like the kind when you avoid your crush after he hears you tittering about him behind the jungle gym. And I don’t really care. I fell all over him and spread my legs as easy as you please, and I’m not ready to deal with what that means about me. Maybe I’ll be ready to face him in the next century.
Maybe.
I scoop up a few loose packets of Splenda and head for the kitchen when a man’s bony hand yanks on my yoga pants. Where the hell did he come from? Must have wandered in while I was daydreaming about my fantasy when I damn well should have been paying attention instead. As much as I want to slap him, he’s my customer.
“Hi, Angelica,” he slurs. “You wanna come home and warm me up tonight? I got a fire and everything.”
I pat his balding head and head toward Len so I can get this guy a cup of coffee for the road. Seems like he needs it. Why is the overflow of the Copper Pint always wandering in here? Probably because what they serve as burgers qualifies as hockey pucks.
“I don’t want no coffee!” he snaps after me.
“You do,” I toss over my shoulder. “I care about you, Tom.”
I hear a buzz of chatter from the ladies in the corner as they stare at the bumbling oldster. One gives me a thumbs up.
As I step behind the counter, Len gives me a semi-smile. “Are you okay, sweetie? Seems the Pint is sending their drunks our way again. Too bad food doesn’t negate alcohol in the bloodstream, only in the stomach.”
I always let his platitudes slide, he reminds me so much of my dearly departed grandpa. “Yes and no. It’s one of those shifts where I can’t seem to do anything right. I brought Susan a chai latte when she wanted a black tea, and I mistook blueberry for cranberry at least two times. I’m surprised I still got tips.”
He flicks his wrist. “I don’t mean that meaningless crap. I mean are you feeling okay?”
“Of course.” I glance down at my mainly clean apron. “Why? Do I look like a fright or something?”
He snorts. “Old Tom Johnson is out there. You handled him without one single blush or stumble or eye roll. You even patted him on his bald pate. Man turned as red as Santa’s suit. Last time I checked a drunk like that always rubs you the wrong way. You turned over a new leaf or something?”
Or something.
I nod, listening to Len with one ear but my mind drifts back to what Knight said to me about not letting predators sense my fear lest they consider me prey and act accordingly. He was referring to bears and not men, but the advice holds. For four days now, I’ve been rattled and distracted, bound by thoughts of Knight and nothing else. For the same four days, all the men who’ve stumbled in here during my shifts have been tolerable. How annoying to realize the wisdom of his words. All this time that was all I had to do to avoid irritating and sexist bullshit? Be still my beating heart.
“Angelica, you’re not listening to me.”
“Am too. I always listen to you, Len. You sign my paychecks. And if you want to go home early, I can close up tonight.”
Because unlike you, I don’t have anyone to go home to.
“We weren’t discussing me leaving early and you locking up.”
“We weren’t?”
Len tosses his white towel in the air and mumbles something about women not ever listening to a damn word a man says. But I listened to Knight’s words, didn’t I? I can’t forget anything he ever said to me, even if I want to because his voice haunts my every waking moment. Len disappears into the cooler.
After delivering Tom his black coffee, extra strong, I finish wiping down all the counters and cleaning the espresso machine. The book club ladies have left, leaving the restaurant all but empty. I put a shine on the polished chrome, then move to the muffin and pastry case. For the first time in a long time, my mind drifts away from Knight and focuses on another man entirely.
Dravon.
Ever since I ran from the church, I’ve been skittish around all men, so afraid of repeating the same mistakes I made with my ex-fiancé. And I was a major idiot when it came to Dravon Black. His face floats before my mind – the ebony hair and full lips, the laugh lines around his eyes despite his youth. Without a doubt, I believed he was the one. His family lived in my small hometown for generations and I hoped that kind of stability and acceptance would eventually rub off on me. And Dravon was hot as hell and charming and kind and all the things a woman wants.
And because of that, I believed him when he spouted all his romantic drivel about how much he loved me and how perfect we were for each other. How we were going to have the ideal life together. But when the rubber met the road, he decided he wanted someone else. He was the epitome of a Peter Pan. And I didn’t know it at the time.
But I sure as hell know it
now.
I had to meet a man to put an accurate label on Dravon.
I had to meet Knight.
With a rough tug, I clean the sliding door to the baked goods case, wiping all the crumbs onto the floor. I’ll sweep it before I go home. Flicking a piece of streusel, I heave out a sigh. I was so afraid of getting involved with another man like Dravon. What a waste of everything good inside me that I have to give to a man. And that’s a lot. My heart got singed by a player… and I don’t want to risk losing my heart again because there might not be much of it left by the time the rest of my walls fall down.
Knight lights up any room. If I stand out in a group, it’s usually because I have spinach in my teeth, toilet paper stuck to my shoe or something else equally embarrassing. There seems to be nothing he can’t handle. I struggle all the time and my feet never seem to be firmly on the ground.
I’ve been called an airhead. By Dravon. By my family.
Ugh.
I hate feeling wobbly like this, but it’s been haunting me for as long as I can remember.
Knight is just lonely and in need of a friend. Some adult conversation. Maybe a platonic touch or two.
What you did with him was hardly platonic, Angelica. He licked you to the hardest orgasm of your life.
Double ugh.
And the worst part? If I had to do it over again, I’d still kiss him. Touch him. Let my fingers hover over his hard dick. Take it so far we both fell over the cliff together.
I about jump out of my skin when the wall phone rings. It’s pretty late for a take-out order to be arriving, but Len answers it anyway. He’s such a softie. As his deep voice rumbles, I Windex the glass. Maybe if I rub hard enough, I can erase the fantasies from my mind, the memories of how womanly and special I felt in Knight’s arms. If I’m so good at fixing leaky faucets, how come I can’t keep my emotions from seeping out too?
I’m crazy to believe that he cares about me – I’ve been crazy enough to believe in the illusion of love before – but this time my self-respect is on the line. How can I live with myself if I surrender to a man and it doesn’t work out again? I can friend-zone him. I can. I will.
Finally A Bride: A Valentine's Day Romance Page 9