On the Way Home (7 page)

“Keep seeing me after…?” She seemed cautious. What had made her so cautious?

“I want to take you out. Be with you. I’m not asking for a commitment, but I’d at least like to see where it goes. You mean more to me than a place to crash.”

Emotion washed over her face, faster and more riotous than I could read. She turned back to the stove and flipped a pancake. She was withdrawing from me, but I let her go. If there was one thing I’d learned in my life, it was to ask for what I wanted, and I wanted her. But I wouldn’t push her either. I’d put my offer on the table. Now it was up to her to accept it or tell me to go.

“Sit down,” she said, her voice muffled. She didn’t turn or look at me as she bustled to pull plates down. “Breakfast is ready.”

I could be obedient when I had to be. In order to get pancakes, for example. And these weren’t ordinary pancakes. She placed a plate in front of me loaded with a full stack, diced peaches, and cream that looked loose enough to be hand whipped. On a side plate were two eggs sunny-side up and two strips of glistening bacon.

“Mercy,” I muttered.

She smiled, and the corners of her eyes crinkled, letting me know this one was real. “Figured you’d be hungry.”

“Starving.” I waited until she’d gotten a plate with a single pancake and a side of scrambled eggs before eating. I slathered the pancakes with warm maple syrup until they were heavy and thick.

The first bite was pure sex on a fork, and I couldn’t stop the groan that came out of me. My eyes met hers, and heat sparked between us. Jesus God, she was going to be the death of me. I cut another bite—three pancakes deep—and made sure to grab peaches and whipped cream this time.
Even better.

“You like it?” she asked, a half smile playing at her lips.

The little minx. “I wasn’t planning on rushing you, I swear, but I gotta know… will you marry me?”

She laughed, the sound lighting up the air around us like glimmers in twilight. I wanted to make her laugh over and over, until those shadows never entered her eyes again.

Her expression dimmed. “You really should know more about a girl before you ask questions like that.”

Yeah, that was true enough. I had always been quick to fall for girls. I looked big and tough, so they figured they could jerk me around and I wouldn’t get hurt. And sure, I had muscles. Moving shit, I could handle. But getting cheated on and lied to… that kind of stuff ate away at me.

“Why did you pick me up?” I asked.

For a second she looked stricken. Then she smiled, a dark, wicked grin that made my body heat. “Because I have plans for you, soldier.”

Yes, ma’am.

I focused on eating the delicious breakfast she’d made, finishing off my plate and swiping the rest of the bacon right off the pan. She ate a quarter of her pancake and a whole cup of tea, making me wonder if she worked at keeping her slender figure so she could move through the aisle easily.

Or maybe she just liked looking that way. I sure as hell liked how she looked, but it had nothing to do with the circumference of her waist. She was sexy as hell—her curves, her hollows, and everything in between.

Even her eyes were sexy, the thick lashes and knowing glint. She moved with an effortless seduction…and I remembered what James had said about her walking like a stripper. Everything in her house spoke of wholesome Southern charm, but her innate sensuality… those shadows in her eyes…

“What did you do before you were a stewardess?”

Her eyebrows rose. “Picked up guys at bars, I guess. Grocery stores. The usual places.”

“Nice deflection.”

She shrugged.

And normally I’d let it go. It wasn’t my style to pry, especially in this situation with a beautiful woman who was setting her boundaries. But it felt like some crucial piece of the puzzle, the cinch in the middle when I’d only begun to work at the edges.

“Seriously,” I pushed as gently as I could.

She ran her fingertip over the top of her cup, swirling once, twice, and my body tightened. Her gaze met mine. “Fine, you caught me. I’ve never picked up a guy before you. They always came to me. After work.” Her laugh was hollow. “Before work. During work.”

My stomach clenched, imagining all those guys hitting on her. Not taking no for an answer? Those fucking shadows in her eyes. “Sounds rough,” was all I said.

Her expression twisted into something like a smile but far too painful to be one. “I was a stripper, Clint. And whatever else they wanted me to be. Okay?”

She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the hardwood floors. Her hands were shaking as she gathered her cup and the plates and went to the sink. I sat there, processing. I supposed it shouldn’t have been a surprise. It wasn’t, really. James was pretty fucking perceptive when he wanted to be. So, she was a stripper.

And whatever else they wanted her to be.

I could guess what that was. I could also guess how horrible it must have been for her. Her pain and humiliation filled the air in the small, sunlit kitchen. My fists were clenched, imagining whatever asshole had made her feel this way. People probably figured a soldier would be violent, but not me. I’d rather keep things calm and avoid a fight—no one had to get hurt. But right now, if that guy was in front of me, I’d pound him into the floor. Over and over again until his face was so disfigured everyone would know he was a monster inside as well as out.

The water ran and dishes clinked, and I knew I was hiding from her. Keeping my reaction in check as I remained at the table. She had retreated, but now I was retreating in my own way.

I followed her to the sink.

Her body tensed, telling me in clear terms to stay away. She was used to shutting guys out. I should respect that, but I also knew that staying away from her now would be the greatest insult. She’d take it as a rejection—which was clearly all she expected. She’d spit out the truth of her past and thought I would judge her for it.

I rested my hands lightly on her hips, giving her time to pull away or tell me no. She stayed very still, not moving. The only sound in the room was the rushing from the faucet. By slow degrees, the tension in her body changed from fear to awareness.

“You okay?” I asked softly.

“Why?” she asked bitterly. “Looking for a private dance?”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She laughed bitterly. “That’s where you’re wrong, soldier.”

God, she was a contradiction. She invited me in and then glared at me for being there. I couldn’t figure it out. Maybe I didn’t want to figure it out. That would mean acknowledging that I should leave her alone.

I didn’t want to leave her alone.

She felt so warm in my hands, so slender and supple. I kept remembering her mouth on me—glorious, hot—and I desperately wanted to return the favor. I couldn’t imagine her tasting anything but sweet. That was her, the Georgia peach, splashing on my tongue. But maybe the sugar would be balanced with feminine musk. She turned wary when I least expected it, undertones of earth and darkness to balance out her smile.

“I really should leave,” I said, my voice hoarse, my offer desperate and halfhearted.

She turned in my arms. Her eyelids had lowered, the sunlight bathing her face in a sensual glow. “Stay. I’ll make it worth your while.”

I wanted every wicked thing her husky tone offered, but I wanted even more. I pulled her off balance, so that she tumbled against my chest. Then I held her close, her cheek lined up to my heart, her arms around my waist. Something shifted inside me and locked into place. When she was touching me, holding me, it felt like everything would be okay. Yeah, my cock was hard for her, but I could have stayed like this forever, feeling her breasts rise and fall, arms wrapped around her strong and vulnerable body.

She took my hand and led me back to the bedroom. I knew it was a power play, a way for her to regain control of the situation, and I let her do it. When she snapped at me to undress, I obeyed her again. I would have followed her to the ends of the earth in that moment—and fallen right off the sepia waterfall like one of those old-time maps.

I stood there, naked, with my hard-on thick and heavy in front of me. My cock had been at half-mast since I woke up, knowing I was in Della’s house, hoping I’d get to fuck her today. That blowjob had been so amazing and so cruel all at once, giving me endless pleasure without a drop of hers.

“Get on the bed,” she ordered.

I gave her a sideways glance. Her expression remained stern and unyielding, and my body responded with a predictable tightening. I’d always had a thing for powerful women.

“Face up or face down?” I asked mildly.

She had expected me to refuse. Now her surprise had nowhere to go. “Face up,” she murmured. “I want to see that beautiful cock pointing at the ceiling.”

That beautiful cock
definitely liked the idea of being watched by her. It throbbed with painful arousal as I climbed onto the bed and lay on my back. My time in the army had demolished any sense of modesty I might have had. Even before then, in foster homes, we were typically operating with too many kids to a bathroom. I didn’t get embarrassed. I wasn’t scandalized to have flashed my bare ass to a woman I didn’t know well. Except when I turned to look at her, the heated approval in her eyes warmed me from the inside out, turning my blood to molten desire and making my cheeks flush.

She smiled. “You like this.”

I grunted my assent.

“No, I mean, you really like this. Being told what to do in bed.”

The thought jolted me more than her command had done. Did I like being told what to do? Probably any military guy had a bit of a masochist in him. Physical training could be brutal, and the political maneuvers and mind games were even worse. But that was my professional life. Not my sex life.

Slowly shaking my head, I said, “I like being with you. I’m not too particular on how we do it.”

Her grin was knowing. “Whatever you say. It just so happens that I
am
particular, so you won’t mind if I run things, will you?”

I snorted. Oh yeah, she could control me six ways to Sunday. “Whatever you say,” I repeated.

Her eyes flashed with pleasure. I thought she shivered, even though she had on her clothes—unlike me. But then she straightened, reverting to the aloof vibe I didn’t buy for a second. She crossed the room and climbed onto the bed beside me. My cock perked up, pointing to the ceiling exactly as she’d ordered it to.

Neat trick. I wondered what else she could make me do.

Her nails scored over my thigh, abrasive and ticklish all at once. I tensed. She pushed my thighs apart, and after the briefest hesitation—Jesus, this was hot—I spread my legs. Kneeling between them, she propped her chin on her fist and examined me. I felt like an object. An interesting, beautiful object. A zing of desire traveled straight down my cock and into my balls.

She tapped her chin. “Let’s see what we’re working with here.”

We would be working with a spent cock if she kept looking at me that way. My body was ready to explode and she hadn’t even touched me yet. It came to me then, how dangerous she could be. Great sex was one thing. Falling for a girl was something else. Both at the same time might be the blow from which I wouldn’t recover.

Her forefingers lined up on either side of my cock, running from the base to the flared head. There may as well have been a ruler in her hands. The little smile on her face didn’t let me feel too nervous about how I measured up. Her fingers slid back down, dragging the skin, making me gasp at the sensation, flesh pulled taut and exposed. Then her thumb brushed right over the tip.

“Ahh, God. Not there. Not yet.” My body trembled with the force it took to stay still and flat on the bed.

“Did I touch a nerve?” she asked with feigned innocence.

“Every single one,” I muttered.

She laughed. “I like your honesty.”

Hmm, who appreciated honesty? People who had been lied to. Or people who were lying. I filed that away for future consideration.

“Honestly, I want to see your body. I want to touch you.” The words came out hoarse, but I didn’t care. The throbbing erection between us already gave away how much I wanted her.

Her gaze was considering. “All right, soldier. Let’s play a game.”

My stomach sank. Why did I get the impression I wasn’t going to like this?
Or maybe I’d like it too much?

“The game works like this. I’ll ask you a question. For every one you get right, I’ll take off an article of my clothing. Whatever you see, you can touch.”

“And if I get it wrong?”

Her hand grabbed my balls before I could slam my legs shut. She twisted, and I jerked against her—then froze. Though she wasn’t squeezing tight enough to injure me, I was definitely sweating the pressure. If she
had
been really hurting me, I could have dislodged her. There were a hundred ways to do so. But I wouldn’t risk her getting hurt. And more importantly, I wanted to play this game.
Whatever you can see, you can touch.
Hunger was a fierce ache in my gut, to see all of her, to touch her everywhere.

“If you get it wrong,” she said mildly, “then you get punished. You’re in the military. I’m sure you’re used to punishments.”

She hadn’t released the vice on my balls, and I was panting now. “Sure, I can scrub the floor by hand if you want.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Her eyes sparkled with wicked intent. “Bent over and naked. It’s a very vulnerable position. It’d give me great access to your ass.”

Jesus.
My heart rate kicked into double time. What was she going to do with my ass? “Uh—”

“Shhh, don’t worry about that. Because I know you’re going to be a very good boy, aren’t you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”

As if those were the magic words, she released me. I slumped back onto the bed, relieved and massively turned on. Unnaturally turned on, as if she had sprinkled pixie dust on my overdue cock. A blowjob—even a glorious one—wasn’t going to cut it. I needed a long, hard fuck. And then I needed to do it again, and again, until we were both slippery and sated and blissed out on pleasure.