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2
Dane
I’ve never wishedto be an inanimate object as much as I wish to be that fucking bead of sweat.
I can’t take my eyes off the shimmering dew clinging to her bronzed skin. A lucky liquid drop cascades across the sharp bone of her clavicle, increasing speed as gravity draws the moisture into the valley between her small tits. Her breathy sigh lingers in the air between us.
She pleads and breaks the spell.
I curse and piston my hips against her center. Each of us only covered by thin cotton and silk.
“More,” she whines.
A rumble catches in my throat. I dive to take her lips and do exactly as she begs me to do. My hand makes contact first with the intention of moving the material out of the way. The slickness between her thighs chases away the insecurity that I might be doing something wrong. She’s fucking begging.
Still…
“Tell me again you want this before I go any further.”
“Dane,” she pants and shifts against my hand. Her head falls back.
I withdraw my hand from the warmth between her legs and use the other to palm the back of her head, bringing her gaze back to mine.
“We’ve both had a few drinks, beautiful. I know it’s been hours, but consent is sexy.” I dip my mouth to the hollow of her throat, stealing a salty taste before pulling back. “I won’t go further without your answer, but I also won’t ask again. I promise,” I say with a half-grin.
Her delicate finger brushes the hair across my forehead.
“I want you.” Her gaze is steady on mine. She moves her finger to run across my parted lips. “Please make me feel good.”
I catch the rogue finger with my hand before she can pull it away and suck it between my lips. She moans and shifts her thighs.
“I promise,” she swears on her words, staring me dead in the eye.
“No regrets?” I ask one last time.
“No regrets,” she answers soberly.
Not needing anything else, I take Caiti to her back in my bed, feeling like the luckiest man alive.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The poundingat my door shakes me from my dream. A dream I’ve unfortunately had on repeat over the last three fucking years. A groan slips free as I rub the sleep from my eyes, wishing I could also rub something else away. Waking up with a boner most mornings isn’t exactly the best way to start the day, especially when it comes to something completely unattainable.
If I hadn’t sobered up before taking her that night, I might have questioned whether she existed at all.
What fucking time is it? I closed the bar last night, so even if it’s not early for most, anything before noon is early when I didn’t fall asleep until four in the damn morning.
The knocking increases in desperation and volume, forcing me to abandon my search for a clock. Nerves leech away my usual calm. I race through the numerous people who could need my help without a phone call. Being the owner of a popular bar in a small town has a lot of people depending on me. Acquaintances, regulars, and friends all know I’m only a phone call away when I’m not working and the central location means anyone could stop by without notice. I sprint down the steps of my apartment two at a time, reaching the bottom and yanking the door open without stopping to catch my breath.
I must still be sleeping.
The woman of my literal dreams stands hunched over on my doorstep.
And she’s not alone.
A little girl with curly dark hair and tearstained cheeks cries loudly for her mom. A flash of anger strikes me before it’s washed out by concern for the woman I haven’t successfully evicted from my memories.
“Caiti?” My throat is parched with disbelief.
“I think I’m having a heart attack!” she gasps through a strangled-sounding breath.
“Hang on,” I command and run back into my apartment for my phone.
Before I return, I’m already connected to dispatch and requesting an ambulance for the medical emergency. I drop to a knee beside the terrified girls as the dispatcher informs me help is on the way. I open my free arm to the little girl and drag her close. Anything to dispel the frightened wails. Her sobs transform into wet hiccups that wrack her tiny body.
“Thank you,” I tell the woman on the line before hanging up. “Talk to me, Caiti. The ambulance is on the way.” I shove my phone into my pocket before reaching over to touch her hunched shoulder. Her shallow, quick breaths reveal she’s still with me, but I need to hear her say something.
Wide dark eyes lift to mine. The terror there is stark. “I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“It hurts,” she pants. Manicured fingertips curl and clutch at her chest.
Desperate to relieve any discomfort, no matter how small, I scoot over and pull her head against my chest. Her breathing loses its sharpness at the small contact. I ignore that she’s basically a stranger and tamp down the part that wants to know what she’s doing here. Though I have a pretty good idea already.
“Hang on. They’ll be here any minute.”
Her petite hand clutches at my uncovered pec, making me acutely aware of my lack of shirt.
“It’s coming again.” The tremors invade her once more.
“I’ve got you both,” I mumble into the crown of her hair, at a loss for comforting words to say. The woman shows up on my doorstep in sheer distress three years after a one-night stand that she ran out on in the middle of the night with a kid I’d be blind not to notice the resemblance. I have a thousand questions, but none of them matter at this moment. The least I can do is see her through her medical emergency. The time for answers will come.
The whoop of the ambulance precedes the red and blue flashing lights into the alley. Relief coats my insides at the sight of professional help.
