Chapter 18 #2
It was a damned good visit.
But as he drove through the Dry Creek Ranch gate, his mouth ticked up and he got that feeling he always did when he saw his family’s land stretched out before him. It was pretty damned awe-inspiring and it made a man happy to be home.
As he passed Gina’s cabin, he slowed. Her BMW was parked where she’d last left it before leaving to go back to Los Angeles.
At his own home, he decided against parking in the garage and cut his engine in the driveway. Later, he might head to the coffee shop for dinner. Or raid Jace’s refrigerator.
He grabbed his duffel from the back seat and climbed the stairs to his apartment. A gush of cool air and loud music hit him as soon as he walked inside.
He dropped his bag on the floor and followed the smell of browning onions. In the kitchen he found Gina at the stove with her back to him, dancing to a Rolling Stones song. Her hips swayed back and forth while he stood silently watching her, mesmerized.
As if sensing someone was there, she turned and jumped when she saw him. “Way to scare the shit out of me, Dalton.”
“I see you’re back in my kitchen.” His eyes moved over her, taking in the clingy T-shirt and cutoffs.
“I’m making short ribs. Your beef, my recipe.”
“What about LA? ChefAid?” She appeared to be in a good mood, which seemed odd given her situation. He’d kept up. There was nothing to celebrate.
“I couldn’t take it anymore. Damned reporters found my hotel and chased me to work every day.”
He noted she hadn’t answered the real question. “Are you out of a job?”
“I own the frigging company, Sawyer.”
“What about the rest of it?”
“ChefAid dumped me…or at least it’s in the midst of dumping me. The company’s signing Candace.”
“And you know this how?”
She teared up, trying to pretend it was from the onions. “They told my lawyer and canceled our meeting next week. I’m only guessing about Candace. But, come on. It’s got to be her. As far as my show, I don’t know yet. FoodFlicks isn’t returning my agent’s calls. So, you tell me.”
He cocked his hip against the counter. “You have a plan?”
“Yep,” she said, trying to hold it together. But she was cracking. He could see the fission marks all over her face.
“Rebuild,” she continued. “Make a new pilot. I was sick of the Italian shtick anyway. says there’s not a lick of Italian in me. Adopted, remember?”
He nodded. “Have you given up on proving that the story about you and Clay is a sham?”
“What the hell’s the point? My reputation is in the toilet, my revenues are in the toilet, and I hate these people. I hate them, Sawyer. I hate them so much.” She pressed her face against the wall and her body heaved with silent tears.
He pushed off the counter and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t cry.”
“Easy for you to say.” She wiped her nose on the front of his shirt. “Everything I did…all the hard work…gone.”
“You ever hear the saying ‘There is nothing stronger than a broken woman who has rebuilt herself’?” His lips hovered over her hair. “You’ll come back bigger and better.”
“Maybe. Or maybe that was my one shot, my fifteen minutes, and now it’s over. For good.”
“Nah, you’re too talented. And, Gina?” He gently grasped her chin and lifted her face so their eyes met. “The truth will eventually come out. You’ll be vindicated.”
“Yeah, when I’m like ninety.” She sniffled.
He ripped a paper towel from the holder and held it to her nose. “Blow.”
She tilted her head and gave him a look.
He laughed. “I guess that came out…uh…not right.”
Gina took the towel from him and wiped her watery eyes and then her nose. “You’re a good friend, Sawyer Dalton.”
For some inexplicable reason the word friend stuck in his craw. They were more than goddamn friends. To prove it, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her until he lost control. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until now.
She was into it too, kissing him back with a fervor that belied mere friendship. Her hands slipped into his back pockets and pulled him closer until they were grinding into each other, hungrily.
He angled her head and took the kiss deeper as he touched her breasts through her T-shirt. Her nipples hardened through the soft fabric and a growl escaped his mouth. God, he wanted her. He wanted her so much he could feel himself straining against the fly of his jeans.
She ran her fingers over the stubble on his chin. It was more tender than sexual, but the gesture made him hot just the same.
“You want to take this to the bedroom?” He started backing her out of the kitchen.
“Mm-hmm.” She moved her hands under his shirt, lightly touching his stomach and he shuddered in a breath.
They didn’t waste any time once they got to his room, tearing off their boots, shoes, and clothing.
He pushed her down onto the bed and fell on top of her.
She felt so good, everything about her. Her soft, damp skin.
The hot pull of her mouth. The way she arched under him, silently begging for more.
She grabbed his hips and pulled him harder against her, crushing her breasts against his chest. He kissed his way down her neck to her chest, then, one at a time, rolled her nipples between his lips.
Her head thrashed against the pillow as she grabbed fistfuls of the top sheet while he spread her legs wide with his knee.
“You ready for me?” He touched her and found her already wet. “Oh, yeah, baby,” he whispered in her ear, his chest expanding at the knowledge that he could do this to her. That he could make her so damned aroused.
He slid open the nightstand drawer and blindly searched for a condom. When he had it on, he entered her in one hard thrust. She called out, moaning his name in satisfaction, then thrusting up to meet him stroke for stroke.
He thought about her dancing in the kitchen, her body moving to the beat of the music. Her ass shaking and he nearly came.
“Let’s slow it down for a second.” He held her hips still while he moved slowly inside of her.
“Don’t want to.” She shook his hands away and tried to roll him under her, but he wouldn’t let her.
“I want to make it last. I want it to be good for you.” He kissed her neck.
She turned her head to the side to give him better access. “I…”
“What?” he whispered.
“Nothing. It’s just so good.”
The best he’d ever had. Because of her, because of the way he felt about her.
With one hand, he held her arms above her head and began to thrust harder, simultaneously working her with his fingers. She squirmed against him, panting and trying to break her hands free. He let them loose and she gripped his shoulders, bucking wildly against him.
“Oh, Sawyer…Sawyer.”
He kept kissing her. Her face, her lips, her throat.
“I’m—I’m—” She shuddered before she could get the words out. Her breathing quickened and her muscles clenched, and Sawyer felt her climax.
He bent her knees up so that her feet were flat on the bed and went deeper. Harder. Within a few seconds he was lost in the euphoric feeling of his own release.
He collapsed on top of her. Though completely sated, he wished their lovemaking had lasted longer. But once enveloped inside her warmth, he’d been unable to hold back. Sawyer was surprised he’d made it as long as he had.
He rolled her on top of him to save her from his weight and cushioned her head against his chest. They just lay that way. It was different than any time with her before or with anyone, for that matter. It felt permanent. Right.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” she said.
He hitched his brows and his mouth curved into a half-smile. “Good thing. I’d hate to be dead.”
She traced a line down his chest with her finger. “Thank you, I needed that.”
And just like that the spell was broken. He rolled to the other side of the bed, angry. “Glad I could oblige.” Maybe next time he could get her a blowup doll.
He hung his legs off the bed, crossed the room to the bathroom, got rid of the condom, and took a quick shower. Afterward, he found Gina in the kitchen, stirring her short ribs.
His phone rang and he was thankful for the distraction, because he had been about to say something to Gina that he probably would’ve regretted. Something to the tune of “I’m not your fuck buddy.”