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“Let’s go, dog. I have someone to get back to.” I tugged the leash, and Elvis obediently trotted over and back through the patio slider. Frank lifted his head on the bench in the kitchen as I locked the door. I nodded at him, then fought the embarrassment climbing my spine like a monkey. Like I needed the cat’s approval to sleep with his human. Frank yawned, stretched, then settled back into a ball and ignored me. I carried my dog to the laundry room and rehung his leash. After I freshened the water in his bowl, he settled on the cushion in the corner.
“Good night, sweet dreams, friend,” I quoted the King himself as I flicked off the light and closed the door.
My cellphone was on the charging dock in my office. I detoured on my way back to my bedroom to send a text to my dad. This was the kind of happiness I’d always shared with him. Not in detail, mind you, but enough to let him know that my life was on an uptick after a year of feeling like I was at the bottom of a boggy lake, fighting for each inch toward the surface.
In a short amount of time, I’d found my creative energy again, and a woman I was falling for like a boulder off the side of cliff, with gaining momentum. My dad would be happy about that. I finished typing my message and pressed send. The words popped up in the long line of texts I’d sent and never received a reply to. But for some reason, tonight it didn’t generate the same screeching sensation, like rusty nails being pried from of an old board, that it had in the past.
I chalked that up to the woman waiting in my bed.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I rushed back to the warm, willing woman upstairs. I left the bedroom door open, in case Elvis needed anything else, and crossed the room. Catie had snuggled deeper under the covers, her auburn hair spilling over the pillow. She lay curled on her right side, her fist tucked under her cheek, so small she barely wrinkled the sheet. She’d picked the left side of the bed to fall asleep on, which was typically the side I picked, but if I spooned her, I’d almost make it to my side. And I was willing to share.
I lifted the sheet and slipped in behind her. After plumping up a pillow, I settled along her small frame, my head propped on my right hand, thighs under hers, left arm slung around her waist. Her chest was rising and falling rhythmically, in a deep slumber. Although she didn’t wake, she somehow scooted backward, jamming up against my chest.
Her forearm was smooth and silky as I traced the bones with my fingertips. I bent my right arm under my head, and buried my nose in her curls. Our positions on the bed, the warmth of her back on my pecs, was heaven on Earth, and damn! I was here for it.
Catie Marlowe had brought magic back into my life, something I’d thought I’d lost forever the day my dad died.
I tightened my arm around her, and she sighed softly, then rolled until she faced me, arms crossed against my chest, the crown of her head fitting perfectly under my chin. Her breath was soft, warm, and even against my throat. In my chest, a spot that had been hard and cold softened, heated and unfurled. My body still tingled with the passion we’d spent tonight, but my mind was peaceful.
Holding her close to my chest, I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my lips.
* * *
At some point in the night, we’d woken, made love a second time, exploring each other’s bodies leisurely, joyfully, zealously. Her sighs and moans wrapped around my brain, tempered my carnal desire with something more. Something stronger and more romantic.
The world was right and light as we fell asleep once again, my arms tight around her, one hand cupping her breast, the other cradling her head. This was bliss and I prayed it didn’t end. Ever.
When I woke, she was not next to me in my big, comfortable bed. I squinted at the clock, realized it was later than the light streaming in through the windows led me to believe. I rolled to my back and listened for sounds of Catie.
She wasn’t in the bathroom.
I didn’t hear sounds of her from the kitchen, although the rich aroma of coffee tickled my nostrils. I closed my eyes and inhaled, then stilled, straining for any noise from her. But I heard nothing above the sound of the birds, the breeze rustling through the trees.
And then, a sharp bark and a quick girlish laugh. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed as Elvis barked again. I stumbled over the jeans I’d left on the floor in my hurry last night and went to the window. Scratching my chest, I looked out and cataloged the scene playing out below.
Elvis had a stick clenched between his teeth and was wrestling Catie for it. After a bit of a tug of war, she managed to free it and held it high above her head in a game of keep-away. She circled it around and pretended to toss it, laughing when Elvis pivoted and leaped away, only to stop short and hustle back to Catie, jumping up on her thighs. She scrubbed her fingers behind his ears then produced the stick so he could see. This time, when she went to throw it, she actually released it and laughed as Elvis jolted away to chase the small wand.
My eyes were on the woman alone. She gathered her hair in one hand and lifted it off her shoulders, then shook out the curls. The sun kissed her face, painting it in a rosy glow. Her trim legs were covered by her jeans, which was a damn shame, because I’d come to adore her with no pants. At least her feet remained bare, and seeing that brought my shaft to attention.
She glanced at the house, looking up toward the window where I stood, a sweet smile lifting the corners of her lips, like she knew I was there watching her.
Elvis rushed back to her, leaping up playfully, and she turned her attention back to him, fighting for control of the stick once again. Her sexy chuckle rebounded across the yard, through the glass panes and knocked on my heart.
I spun around and swept my jeans off the floor, jamming my legs into them. Thirty seconds later, after splashing my face with cold water, I jerked a plaid shirt free of a hanger and was pulling it over my shoulders as I left the bedroom.
The grass was cool and damp as I hurried to where Catie and Elvis were playing. Elvis saw me first and barked around the stick still in his jaws. He all but galloped toward me, eager to play. He dropped the stick at my feet and barked with abandon as he nudged his head into my knee. I scooped the thin wood up and tossed it over my shoulder, never taking my eyes off the woman standing a short distance away, bathed in glowing sunlight.
“Morning, Red.” I wrapped my arms around her and lowered my mouth to hers, greeting her properly. Her lips were soft and yielding beneath the onslaught of mine.
“Morning,” she replied when I ended the kiss.
I didn’t release her but dropped one hand to the curve of her hip, gripped her chin between my thumb and forefinger and lifted until I could see her clear, whiskey-colored gaze. “You weren’t in the bed when I woke up.” My voice was gruff and raspy. I cleared my throat. “I missed you.”
She shifted her gaze to Elvis, who had plopped down in the dewy grass and was gnawing on one end of the thin wooden rod. “I’ve always been an early riser. Elvis was whining in the laundry room, and Frank was hissing at him to shut up. So I came down and took care of getting your dog outside. Is the coffee ready?”
“Think so.” I nuzzled my nose along the shell of her ear. “It smells great. Is playtime over?”
“I think we’ve had enough.” She stepped out of my embrace, slipped one hand into the unbuttoned shirt and rested it on my chest. The warmth of her palm felt like coming home after a long tour and lying down in my own bed for the first time in a long time. Unbelievably intense and welcome.
