Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
JUDITH
Iwake to the sensation of warm lips trailing along my shoulder. For a moment, disorientation clouds my mind. This isn't my bed. Then memory returns in a rush of sensation. Dario. Last night. Everything we did together.
"Morning." His voice rumbles against my skin, sending delicious shivers down my spine.
I turn in his arms, finding his face mere inches from mine. His blue eyes are dark with remnants of sleep and desire. For me.
"Morning." My voice sounds husky, affected by both sleep and awareness of our naked bodies pressed together beneath the sheets.
He brushes a curl from my face, the gesture unexpectedly tender from a man who commanded me so thoroughly last night. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than I have in weeks." The admission comes easily in this intimate space. "You?"
"Same." His thumb traces my lower lip, eyes following the movement. "I should let you go back to your room."
"Should you?" I raise an eyebrow, surprising myself with my boldness.
His lips curve slightly. "What we agreed to was last night only. No expectations beyond that."
"And if I want more?" The words emerge before I can overthink them.
Something flares in his gaze. "More what, exactly?"
I slide my hand beneath the sheets to grip his cock, finding him already hard against me. "More of this. More of you."
He inhales sharply as my fingers wrap around him. "Judy..."
The nickname in his deep morning voice does something to me. I feel myself growing wet just from the sound of it. "Yes, Dario?"
"If you start this, I won't be gentle." His warning comes with a slight growl that sends heat pooling between my thighs. "Not after watching you sleep in my bed all night."
"Maybe I don't want gentle." I stroke him slowly, learning the feel of him. "Maybe I want to feel you all day."
With a muttered curse, he moves with surprising speed, pinning me beneath him. His weight presses me into the mattress, solid and commanding. His mouth claims mine in a kiss that's nothing like the controlled explorations of last night. This is raw, hungry, almost desperate.
I respond with equal fervor, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. The feeling of his bare skin against mine, nothing but heat and friction between us, overwhelms my senses.
"Condom," he mutters against my mouth.
"I'm on birth control," I find myself saying. "Clean. Haven't been with anyone in over a year."
He pulls back slightly, studying my face. "You sure?"
"Yes." I've never been more certain of anything. "I want to feel all of you. Just you."
Something shifts in his expression, a vulnerability I haven't seen before. "I'm clean too. Get tested regularly."
"Then what are you waiting for?" I roll my hips, feeling him hard against me.
With a groan, he positions himself at my entrance, then slowly pushes inside. Without the barrier of latex, the sensation is incredible. I gasp at the feeling of fullness, of connection.
"Jesus, Judy." His voice is strained, muscles tensing with the effort of control. "You feel incredible."
"So do you." I adjust to his size, my body remembering him from last night.
He establishes a rhythm that's neither gentle nor punishing, just perfect. Deep, steady strokes that hit exactly right. His eyes never leave mine, creating an intimacy more profound than anything we shared last night.
This isn't just sex. This is something else entirely.
I reach up to touch his face, tracing the strong line of his jaw, the slight stubble that's grown overnight. He turns to press a kiss to my palm, the gesture unexpectedly tender amid our passion.
"I love watching you like this," he murmurs. "Seeing your pleasure. Knowing I'm the one giving it to you."
His words affect me as much as his body, pushing me closer to the edge. When his hand slides between us to circle my clit with practiced fingers, I cry out.
"That's it." He increases the pace of his thrusts, matching the rhythm of his fingers. "Let go for me, Judy. I want to feel you come around me."
The combination of sensation and command pushes me over. I shatter beneath him, walls clenching around him as pleasure radiates outward. He follows almost immediately, burying himself deep with a groan that might be my name.
For long moments afterward, we lie tangled together, breathing in sync. He eventually rolls to the side, pulling me with him so I'm sprawled across his chest.
"Damn..." I search for words adequate to describe what just happened.
"Good?" He asks, one hand tracing idle patterns along my spine.
"Yes. Just unexpected." I rest my chin on his chest, studying his face. "That wasn’t about dominance for you, was it?"
He seems to consider the question. "No. Just us."
The simple truth of it settles something in me. Last night was incredible, but this morning held a different kind of intimacy. One I hadn't expected but find myself craving more of.
"I should make breakfast." He brushes a kiss against my forehead. "You worked up an appetite."
I laugh, the sound easy and natural between us. "Is that what we're calling it?"
His smile transforms his usually serious face. "Among other things."
We eventually make our way downstairs, both wearing minimal clothing. I've claimed one of his flannel shirts, the soft fabric enveloping me like a dress. He's in sweatpants that hang low on his hips, chest bare as we move around the kitchen together.
"Excited about the tree lighting?" I ask, pouring coffee while he handles eggs and bacon.
"No," He admits, glancing at the clock. "But we don’t have to think about that until at least 5:30. We have the whole day."
"And what exactly does one do on a mountain all day?" I lean against the counter, watching him cook with the same precision he brings to everything.
"Usually I work. But today..." He gives me a look that sends renewed heat through me. "I thought we might get to know each other better."
"Haven't we already done that rather thoroughly?" I tease.
"Not that kind of knowing." He plates the food with efficient movements. "I want to know about you. Your life before this arrangement."
The request surprises me. "Why? This is temporary, remember?"
Something flickers across his features. "Still. We're living together, sleeping together. Seems reasonable to know more than just how to make each other come."
Put that way, it's hard to argue. "Fair enough. What do you want to know?"
We settle at the dining table, food and coffee between us. For a moment, I'm struck by how normal this feels. How comfortable. As if we've been having breakfast together for years rather than days.
"Tell me about your father." He sips his coffee, watching me over the rim. "You mentioned he was military."
"Army. Career officer." I smile at the memories. "He was strict but fair. After my mom died when I was sixteen, it was just the two of us. He had to figure out how to raise a teenage daughter alone."
"That couldn't have been easy."
"It wasn't. For either of us." I push eggs around my plate. "But he tried. Made sure I could take care of myself, practically and financially. Insisted on college, even when I wanted to enlist like him."
"Smart man."
"He was." The familiar ache of loss has softened over time, but never disappears completely. "He would have hated Marc. Probably would have liked you, though."
Dario raises an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"You're straightforward. No bullshit. Dad always said you can trust a person who tells you hard truths to your face." I meet his gaze directly. "You do that."
He nods, accepting the assessment. "My father was similar in some ways. Believed in honesty above politeness."
"Tell me about him." I find myself genuinely curious about the man who shaped Dario.
"Logger. Worked these mountains his whole life." His expression softens slightly with memory. "Taught me everything about woodworking, about respecting the land. When he died, this property became my responsibility."
"Is that when you got out of the Marines?"
"No, I'd already completed my service by then. Was working with a private security firm." He refills our coffee cups. "Came back here to settle his affairs, ended up staying."
"Do you miss it? The military?"
He considers this. "Parts of it. The structure. The clarity of purpose. The brotherhood." His eyes find mine. "But I've found other ways to channel those needs."
I take that as an implication that his dominant tendencies might connect to his military past. Not a cliché—he's too complex for that—but a thread in the tapestry of who he is.
"What about you?" he asks. "You mentioned you were engaged to Marc. Any relationships before him?"
"A few. Nothing serious until him." I wrap my hands around my coffee mug. "I was always focused on my career, building my reputation in my field. Relationships were secondary."
"Until Marc."
"Until Marc." I sigh. "Classic mistake. Fell for the charm, the promises, the lifestyle he represented. Should have seen the red flags."
"Like what?" His interest seems genuine rather than voyeuristic.
"Controlling behaviors disguised as care. Isolation from friends who 'weren't good enough' for us. Financial manipulation." The list feels pathetic when I say it out loud. "All the classics."
"You got out." Dario's voice holds no judgment. "That takes courage."
"Or desperation." I attempt a smile. "Hence our current arrangement."
"Speaking of which..." He hesitates, then continues. "We should discuss what happened last night. And this morning."
My heart rate kicks up. "What about it?"
"It changes things, Judy." His directness is both refreshing and terrifying. "We've crossed a line we can't uncross."
"I know." I meet his gaze steadily. "I don't regret it."
"Neither do I." He reaches across the table, taking my hand. "But we need to be clear about what this is."
Before I can respond, his phone rings. He answers with a frown, eyes still on mine.