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He cocked a brow. Pivoted and opened the Jeep door. For a second, she thought she might crumble right there. Or scream like a madwoman, ripping all the innocent flowers from their pots to throw clods of dirt at him. Then he shrugged out of the coat, broad shoulders delineated by the pull of the white shirt beneath, and tossed it over the passenger seat. Turning around, he strode back up the walk to her.
His eyes were back on hers, but his expression was very different now. He showed her fire, purpose, a sensuous set of his mouth that had her own lips tightening in anticipation. He moved swiftly and gracefully, such that she had approximately one indrawn breath to think I have no idea what the hell Im doing. There was panic, that odd conflict again, wanting him and yet fighting not to bolt and hide. Before she could decide, hed slid one arm around her waist and put one foot on the step next to hers. When the weight of his body shoved her against the railing, her hands flew to his shoulders to grab.
In a blink, her feet were barely touching the porch boards, then not touching at all as he took another step up. The height difference, along with the strength of his one arm, brought her up against his chest, put her thighs flush against his. Before her feet could scrabble for purchase, hed shifted his hands, gripped her thighs and yanked them up so they slid around his hips, pressing his body into that carnal cradle, denim to soft fabric.
Shed worn drawstring cotton pants with her T-shirt, hand painted with a jasmine tea leaf. One of her faded and frayed ballet style slippers toppled off her toe so that her bare foot curved around the back of his thigh. Even though the outfit was thin, it felt like too many clothes as the sensual overload of the previous night rushed back in, the remembrance of his cock spurting at her command, that steel organ now pressed against her center.
Then his mouth claimed hers and all of her brain cells spun out of control. He did exactly as shed craved, making the kiss hot, demanding, basically pure sex administered in oral form. Tongue invading, teasing, plumbing, his other hand wrapping around her head, fingers buried in her hair. The arm around her waist was low enough his hand splayed out over her buttock, gripped her hard so she moaned into his mouth and moved in hard, restless anger against him. He made a masculine noise in her mouth, urgent, sexual. Tearing his mouth away from hers, he tasted her throat the way shed imagined, only sucking on her flesh, scoring it with his teeth. He sucked hard enough to leave a mark upon her, something she could finger through the day and remember. Gen might see it and tease her, which was good, because that would convince them she was doing okay, make them worry less.
A s he kissed her, her nerve endings reacted like reeds bending before the touch of a warm wind. A t the same time, that coil in her lower belly drew into a needy fist she felt in all the right places, above and below. Her mouth, face and throat had never been so sensitive to a mans touch. She wanted him everywhere, his mouth, the beat of his breath, the tips of his fingertips, so she could shiver and moan, lose herself in sensation, thoughts disappearing.
When he lifted his head, she was clinging to him, her breath panting, heart trip-hammering.
I could never kiss you like
I dont give a damn about what you want, Chloe, he murmured, intense gaze upon her face. But I can kiss you like its the most important thing in the whole fucking world. I could stand here and kiss you like this forever.
Staring into his face, she forced her fingers to let go of him, one at a time. You dont do anything in half measure, do you?
He eased her down, ran a thumb over her moist lips. Ill see you at six.
Turning, he went back to his Jeep, and left her there.
Chapter Four
Chloe?
The door had opened behind her and she hadnt even realized it. Thank Goddess it was Gen and not their boss, because she wasnt sure how she could have held it together in front of Marguerite at this raw moment. There was just something about her and Tyler, both of them seeing past all layers to who a person was. It was a loveable quality only when you werent desperately using those layers as camouflage.
Gen was a different kind of friend. The comfortable kind. Though there was concern in her eyes, she put a hand on her hip and gave her a tart look. A re you done necking with your boy-toy and ready to go to work?
A pparently more than you, if you had time to press your nose to the window. Chloe attempted a smile as she managed to shuffle to the door.
Gen slid an arm around her waist and squeezed, unspoken affection and care.
If its a pretty day, I look out the window. I just didnt realize how pretty the view was going to be. Wasnt that Brendan, the one who gave Marguerite away at her wedding? A bout time you called him. I should have slipped him your number to get things going sooner.
Yeah, because I want to rush my inevitable trashing of the relationship so he can treat me like a leper sooner. But she had really liked that kiss. In fact, if she set aside her insecurities, she knew shed never enjoyed a kiss more in her whole life. Her body knew that was the kiss of all kisses, specially tailored for everything she wanted and needed.
A wkwardness, excitement and laughter were all part of first kisses, as much as passion and potential. But there was something about Brendan that took her right past awkwardness. She should have been pretty embarrassed when she first saw him this morning, but that mortification had been immediately brushed aside by desire. Everything felt the way it should. A s if nothing he said or did, or even she said or did, could be wrong.
A s natural as breathing, as perfect as lovemaking in the tranquil hush of a church. The quiet beauty of the sacred meeting the childs need for joy.
Her mind had gone straight to the land of poetic fruit loops.
Grimacing, she put down her tote bag and came into the main kitchen. The days tea offerings had been written on a piece of floral stationery and left on the counter for her to transcribe to the board. A s she was looking it over, a cup of tea, steam rising off the liquid, was placed at her elbow. I think a chamomile this morning, mixed with lavender and our freshest green blend for energy. A square of chocolate was placed next to the cup by long, elegant fingers, graced by a silver wedding band etched with Japanese characters. A nd this, for pure indulgence.
Chloe looked up into the face of the tea rooms owner, Marguerite Winterman. Tall, beautiful and as remote as the ice queen of fairy tale legend was the way most would describe her precise features, moonlit hair and pale blue eyes. Chloe and Gen both knew her well enough to call her friend.
She was more than that too. Chloe couldnt exactly put a finger on it, but though there was not a great distance in their ages, Marguerite possessed qualities she might have assigned to a favorite but strict teacher, a tribal chieftain or temple priestess, with Gen and Chloe as her acolytes.
Chloe didnt resist authority or rebel against it; she just flowed around it like a cheerful brook, integrating it in her bubbling froth. But there was no going around Marguerite, which was why Chloe knew shed needed more sleep before coming in. Even now, Marguerites fingers drifted to Chloes face, tipped up her chin.
Why are you here today? she asked quietly.
Because I dont know where else to go, Chloe almost said. The person she used to be had plenty of casual friends. On any given week she might head off to a hike in the mountains, or dress up in Goth gear for a heavy metal concert. Spend a weekend working a table for a charity event in one of Tampas many parks. But shed cut herself off from those friends over the past months. Put them off by saying theyd do something soon. It had been a gradual thing. Shed tried participating in her usual activities, but felt more and more like a remote wooden doll. She did and said the right things, but came home exhausted from the pretense, the emotional drain of being totally detached and pretending not to be.
A s a result, during the past few months shed done little to nothing, other than putter around her house, sit on the back porch and stare into space or nap, with St. Frances curled in her lap, an undemanding weight.
