Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
“Daddy,can you do my hair like a princess?” Delilah asked, skipping into the kitchen in her fairy outfit. It was almost lunchtime on Saturday.
“Do princesses wear their hair in a ponytail?” he asked, hoping to hell she did. He was feeling tetchy and his third coffee of the day wasn’t cutting it. He’d spent the morning shopping for new shoes with Delilah – princess ones, of course, with glittery leather and little straps with sparkling buckles.
Why the hell did everything have to be princess? He’d tried to steer her toward a pair of cute little engineer boots, but she was having none of it. Fuck the patriarchy.
“No she doesn’t, silly.” Delilah pouted, and for a second she looked so much like Jade it made him blink. Most of the time he didn’t see that much of his late wife in her. Delilah was a Hartson through and through. But these occasional glimpses were like a fist to the stomach.
Another reminder that he’d failed to give his kid everything she needed.
“I want my hair to look like Cassie’s,” Delilah said firmly. “With pretty waves that go down around my shoulders.”
Pres blew out a mouthful of air. Of course she wanted to look like Cassie. And damn if that didn’t get him thinking about her again. The same way he had last night, remembering the way she’d looked when she’d shattered against his hand.
Christ, he needed a cold shower.
“She told me that I didn’t need to call her Miss. We’re friends,” Delilah said, full of satisfaction. “Can you do my waves now?”
“I can’t put your hair in waves. It needs to be set.”
“What about a curling wand?”
Where the hell had she learned about hair appliances? The kid was six. “I don’t have a curling wand.”
“Cassie does.”
Of course she did. Cassie had everything. Including his balls every time he looked at her. Or touched her. Or made her come.
Ah fuck. He needed to get over this.
“I’m not calling Cassie to borrow her curling wand. She’s working today anyway.”
“At the dance school?” Delilah asked.
“Yep.” She’d mentioned it last night. Marley had made sure they dropped her off first since the rest of them had the weekend free.
“Can we go see her there?”
“You’re going to a party,” he said patiently. “That’s why we’re doing your hair.” There was something kind of funny about a six year old’s attention. It wandered like a nomad, like her thoughts were always ten feet ahead of reality.
“Oh yeah. Like a princess.”
“A princess with a ponytail,” he reminded her.
“Can you at least do a braid?”
Fuck. Well, he could try. “If you promise not to cry while I’m doing it.”
“Just don’t tug too hard. You can wet it like Cassie does.”
Twenty minutes later, they were walking out of the door. Delilah’s hair was in some kind of braid, though it wasn’t his best effort. Not his worst either. But she’d praised him anyway, like he was the kid and she was the parent.
“Well done, Daddy. That was a great try.” She’d patted his face.
His lips twitched. Damn, she was growing up too fast. She skipped in her new shoes and fairy dress and hair-that-was-almost-a-braid to his truck, waiting patiently as he locked up and grabbed the gift that his mom had bought for Delilah’s friend, Lucy, and walked over to help her into the cab.
The party was at one of those trampoline play areas. As soon as they walked in Delilah saw her friends and they squealed, welcoming her into their group as she showed off her new shoes.
He put the gift on the table next to some others and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around for somewhere to sit.
“Pres,” a voice said. He turned to see Alice. She’d been one of Jade’s friends. They’d been pregnant at the same time and had attended some birthing classes together. He’d known Alice’s husband – her ex-husband now – a little. Enough to have someone to talk to when the girls were babies.
“Hey.” He gave her a smile. “How’s things?”
“Great. Listen, Maisie was asking if Delilah could come back to ours after the party. She could stay over if that works? The two of them haven’t seen each other for so long.”
They were at different schools now. And shamefully he hadn’t kept up the friendship after Jade died.
“I haven’t got her pajamas. Or clothes for tomorrow.”
“You could go home and pack them up,” Alice said hopefully. “I’ll be here to keep an eye on the girls.”
“Let me ask Delilah.”
“Sure.” Alice smiled.
Of course she didn’t need asking twice. By the time the words were out of his mouth, she and Maisie were jumping up and down with excitement. So he went home and packed some clothes and her toiletries, being sure to put Lola in there just in case. And then he drove the twenty minutes back to the trampoline play center, handing the bag over to Alice.
Delilah ran over to him. “Did you pack my unicorn pajamas?” she asked breathlessly. The braid he’d worked so painstakingly on was half undone, and her face was red from all the bouncing.
“Yep. And your favorite dress for tomorrow. And Lola’s in there in case you need her.”
It felt strange saying goodbye to her. But it shouldn’t. She had plenty of sleepovers at his parents’ after all. But this was different. He trusted his mom implicitly. He knew Alice was a good person but…
It was still hard letting go.
Delilah hugged him. “Bye, Daddy,” she said cheerily.
“I can stay until the end of the party,” he told her. “There’s no rush.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t do that. You can go.”
Well okay then. Apparently only one person here was feeling a little sentimental right now. He hugged her back, told her to be good, and then she was running back to the party.
“If there are any problems, call me,” he said to Alice. “I can be there in ten minutes.”
“She’ll be fine. I promise,” Alice told him.
Yeah, she would. He just wasn’t so sure about himself.
When he climbed back into the cab of his truck he let out a long breath. What a couple of fucking days it had been.
He’d spent last night tossing and turning, thinking about Cassie. Thinking about kissing her, about touching her.
Making her come.
It had been a hell of a long time since he’d thought about being inside of a woman. Truth be told, he’d been surprised by how much the softness of her skin turned him on. How the way she sang made his chest ache.
How he wanted to lift her against the bar wall and thrust inside of her until she saw stars.
He dropped his brow to the wheel, letting out a groan. He needed to go home. To get her out of his mind.
Good luck with that. You have the whole night to yourself. What else are you going to think about?
Fuck, at this rate he was going to pleasure himself raw.
With a sigh, he started the engine and backed out of the space, turning left out of the parking lot back toward Hartson’s Creek.
He would get through this. He would.
“Everything okay?” Gemma asked, peeping her head around the door to the dance studio.
Cassie looked up. She’d been sorting through music tracks, getting prepared for next week’s lessons. And truth be told, she was also avoiding going home.
Because being alone with her thoughts wasn’t the best place to be right now. Not when they were full of him.
“Hey.” She smiled at Gemma. “Sorry, didn’t notice the time.”
“I was about to head out,” Gemma told her. “I should be able to see the last twenty minutes of Lucy’s softball game.”
“Oh, of course.” She immediately felt bad for holding Gemma up. “You go on ahead, I can lock up.”
“You sure?”
“Of course.”
Gemma tipped her head to the side. “Is everything okay? You’ve been really quiet today. You didn’t even tell me how last night went.”
And now she felt worse. “I’m sorry.” She offered her a conciliatory smile. “I’ve been all over the place. Can we do dinner next week?”
“Of course, I’d love that.” Gemma grinned. “You sure you’re okay to lock up?”
“I’ll be fine. I won’t be that long behind you.”
“Okay then. Have fun. I’ll see you on Monday.” Gemma blew her a kiss, and Cassie returned it. A minute later, she heard the front door close and she was alone in the studios.
Pulling the music list up again, she slid her finger down until she found it. The song.
The one that would get her out of this funk.
She’d always loved Flashdance. What dancer didn’t? There were never enough movies about dancers making it.
But Jennifer Beals was something else. Cassie had fallen in love with the character she played in the movie. Alex had fought against all odds to be accepted at the Pittsburgh Conservatory of Dance. More odds than Cassie had to face, being the daughter of a dancer.
And she’d succeeded where Cassie had failed.
She pushed that thought right out of her head where it belonged, and pulled up Irene Cara’s song, the music filling the studio as she took a deep breath.
It started slow. A steady, throbbing beat that matched the rhythm of her heart. She felt her muscles react, the memory of learning this dance as a teenager with her friends rushing through her.
They’d loved it so much. At the end of every lesson they’d put this song on and dance until nothing else mattered. Not their arguments with their parents or their grades at school. It was just them and their bodies and the music.
And it was what she needed right now.
She moved slowly at first, her back arching, her leg extending, her body turning in a mixture of ballet and modern dance. And then the beat hit in, and she sped up, spinning and jumping, her breath fast, her heart racing, and damn, it felt so good.
She was only wearing a leotard and tights, her ballet shoes were off and her feet were bare as they hit the wooden floor of the studio before she launched herself again. And yes, she could feel a twinge in her ankle as she landed, but it didn’t matter. The pain felt good.
Everything did.
It was just her, her body, the music, and nothing else.
By the time Irene Cara reached the crescendo, Cassie was breathless. Her body was flushed, and her muscles were loose. She had music, she had rhythm, as she arched her back one final time and dropped to the floor.
And that’s when she saw Presley.
Standing at the doorway, his eyes dark, his jaw tight. Irene’s voice faded away and there was silence in the room, save for the sound of her rapid breaths and the pulse of blood rushing through her ears.
Presley was wearing a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt, his hair falling over his face in the way it always did. She noticed one of his hands was curled around the door jamb, his knuckles bleached white.
And the way he was staring at her made her body want to throb.
She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Just another breath. One that was full of need.
And as though he could hear it, he let go of the doorway and stalked toward her, his lips saying nothing.
But his eyes said everything.
He held his hand out to her. She took it and he pulled her up. She’d barely gotten to her feet before she was pulled against him, her body flush against his.
She could feel the hardness of his body…
And other parts.
He tipped her chin up until their eyes locked. She ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip and his eyes narrowed.
“How long were you watching?” she asked.
“Long enough.” His palm pressed against the dip of her spine. She could feel the heat of it through the thin fabric of her leotard.
“I didn’t know you were there,” she murmured.
“I know. You dance like a fucking angel. You’re beautiful.”
Weird how she felt beautiful, too, in his arms. Even if she was a little sweaty and overly worked up. But she could see his reaction to her. Could feel it.
It sent a pulse of need straight between her legs.
“Are you going to kiss me again?” she asked him.
“Do you want me to?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes. It’s all I can think about.”
He didn’t need asking twice. It was like a dam breaking as his lips took hers, the need and the ache and the desperation pouring into that single kiss. His hands were all over her, tracing the curve of her sides, her hips, her ass. He pressed his fingers into her soft flesh, their tongues clashing, and she moaned against his mouth.
His hand moved between her thighs, and memories of last night flooded her thoughts as his fingers touched her there. God, this man knew how to make her feel good. And then she was in his arms and he was walking over to the piano, his mouth never releasing hers. And when he sat on the stool, he brought her with him, until she was straddling his body.
Feeling the thick ridge of him between her thighs.
“I want you,” she told him.
“I want you too,” he whispered against her mouth. “So damn much.”
His hands were touching her face, her chest, her breasts. Her nipples peaked obscenely through the fabric. He leaned down to capture one in his mouth, dampening the cloth of her leotard, making her arch her back.
The only reason she didn’t fall was because he had a hold on her. Still steadying her back, keeping her safe. He sucked and scraped and she ran her fingers through his hair.
“We need to stop,” he murmured. “Before I take you here and now.”
“There’s nobody here.”
He let out a groan and pushed the neck of her leotard down, exposing her breast to the air, the coolness of it making it harder still. This time when he licked her sensitive skin she let out a long, low moan.
Every part of her was on fire. And they were both still fully clothed.
He kissed her jaw, her cheek, her lips again, pushing the leotard down her arms, exposing all of her chest to him. His eyes roamed over her, taking her in.
“So fucking beautiful.”
And she felt it. Because he meant it.
She leaned forward to press her lips to his neck. Where the curl of a black tattoo was emerging from his t-shirt. Her breath was fast, her heartbeat faster, as she moved her hands down his t-shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest. Her fingers stole beneath the fabric, until she was touching his stomach and he groaned out loud.
He groaned even louder when her fingertips grazed his nipple. “Cassie…”
“What?” she asked breathlessly.
“You okay with this?”
She wanted to laugh. Couldn’t he feel how okay she was? Couldn’t he tell from the way she was flushed and breathless? Her senses were full of him. She could feel the tautness of his thigh muscles beneath her. Smell the warm pine of his soap on his neck.
And yeah, the thickness of him was obvious. She was doing everything that she could not to squirm against him.
But she was fighting a losing battle.
“It’s more than okay.”
His hands cupped her waist, and he tipped her back, until she was arching again, her breasts exposed to his heated stare. He lowered his head until she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.
Then he captured her nipple with his mouth, sucking her in, making her gasp.
He knew how to hold her so she wouldn’t fall. Those large, rough hands of his came in super handy as a backrest. And as he licked and teased and scraped his own teeth against her, she found herself squirming again.
So needy, so turned on.
“Come home with me.”
She blinked at his voice. “What?” He was still stroking her breasts, plucking her nipple between his fingertips. Pain and pleasure rushed through her, making her feel heady.
“I’m not having sex in here. This is where my kid learns to dance.”
She started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. Mostly because he was right. This couldn’t happen, not here, not now. It was one thing to get a little handsy with him, another to go full blown porn star.
“You’re right,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “You can’t.”
“So come home with me,” he said again.
“What about Delilah?”
“She’s at a sleepover.”
Oh. That flush was showing no signs of disappearing from her face or her skin. “All night?”
“Yeah, all night.”
She took a long breath. “Okay then. But you can come to my house.”
He tipped his head, as though scrutinizing her. “You prefer your place to mine?”
She shrugged. “It’ll be easier to kick you out in the morning.”
“I’ll follow you home.” He pulled her leotard up, until her breasts were covered again. Then he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a kiss that made her toes curl.
He’d done the right thing in stopping. They were grown ups, not little kids.
But when they got back to her place, it was on.