20. Weston
20
Weston
D aisy’s mouth brushes mine and the rest of the words die on my tongue. I have no need for words when my lips can speak far better like this.
But before I can say all I need to say to her, she pulls away. Her hand, which was firmly on the back of my neck, draws away shakily. Her eyes gleam as she drags in a shuddering breath. There’s something so raw and exposed in her expression that my heart burns at the sight.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, wiping her lips. “I shouldn’t have done that, I know. But Wes, you made me a darkroom .” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t…”
I should be relieved she’s stopped. Relieved she’s apologized, so we can put it behind us. But I’m not relieved in the slightest. Now that I’ve felt her soft mouth on mine, my blood pumps furiously through my body. My cock aches, and it was barely the briefest touch of her lips. What would it be like if I had more?
“Oh, shit,” Daisy whispers, eyes round as they examine my face.
I don’t know what I must look like right now, but if it’s anything like I feel, it’s wild and reckless. A little unhinged. And so fucking desperate for her to do it again.
“I’m so sorry.” She backs away from me, horror morphing her expression, but I grab her arm and haul her back.
“I’m not.” My voice is wrecked, a rough growl that sounds predatory. I don’t even recognize it.
Daisy’s hands land on my chest, on my thundering heart. She gazes at me, eyes wide and dark, her fingertips hot on my skin even through my sweatshirt.
“You’re not?”
“Fuck no.”
And before either of us can think better of it, I take her mouth this time. She instantly complies with my touch, turning soft and pliant in my arms. Her lips are sweet and gentle and perfect, and when her tongue nudges my mouth open, I’m all too eager to let her in. Tilting my head, I slide my tongue over hers, and every nerve ending in my body fires with need.
Daisy whimpers at the contact, her hands tightening into fists in my sweatshirt. There’s something about that response that sends urgency flooding through my system, and I bend to scoop her into my arms before setting her on the table. She gasps, looking up at me in surprise. I force myself to pause, to make sure I’m not doing anything she’s uncomfortable with, but before I can even fully form the thought, she drags my mouth back to hers.
Fuck, she kisses like nothing I’ve ever known. Like sunshine and rain rolled into one. Like innocence and depravity at the same time. Like a blessing and my biggest mistake all at once.
“Fuck, Daisy.” I’m drunk as her mouth devours mine, warm and wet, trailing from my lips, to my jaw, to my neck. My cock throbs at the way she’s trying to consume me because I know the feeling. I tighten my fist in her dark mane and tug her head back, exposing her throat. Then I drag my tongue across the sweet skin, tasting her. Her moan reverberates against my tongue, and she squirms restlessly on the counter.
“God, Weston.” She shudders. “I need you so badly.”
“You have no fucking idea,” I growl in response.
Her legs wind around my waist, and I slide my hands to her ass, drawing her closer. Her hips search for mine until she finds exactly what she’s looking for. I groan as she grinds against my rigid cock, the friction so fucking good I grit my teeth to remain in control. My dick hasn’t come into contact with anything other than my own hand since Lydia, and it doesn’t know what to do with itself.
I suck in a lungful of air, pulling away to gaze at Daisy so I don’t explode. She looks up at me with dark, needy eyes, her mouth red and swollen from our kisses. She’s never looked more perfect.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“So are you,” she rasps, hands stroking my jaw. “I’m so glad you didn’t shave your beard.”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “You like it, huh?”
“Fuck yes. I love the way it feels on my skin.” She tilts her head, hand palming my jaw. Her eyes are so hooded she looks drunk. “I want to feel it between my legs.”
Jesus Christ .
My breath rushes out, and I press my eyes shut, because there is nothing I want more right now than to fall to my knees and spread those sweet legs of hers.
But I’m not a casual kind of guy. I don’t do one-night stands, or flings, or hookups. I’ve only ever slept with one woman, and I spent twenty-five years with her. As much as I want to, I know I can’t go down that road with Daisy. I shouldn’t have even let her kiss me.
What did I think would happen? She kissed me in the meadow when I finally got her using the Nikon. And part of me knew this would have a similar effect.
A dangerous part of me that doesn’t care what Jesse would say.
Jesse .
The blinding fog of lust parts, and I swallow hard.
I can’t let that part win. I can’t lose my son. He’s all I’ve got left of my family, and if he found out I’d kissed his ex, he’d never speak to me again. Not to mention how uneasy I feel at the thought of sharing a lover with my son.
“You have no idea how much I want that,” I say, dropping my forehead to hers. My hand rests possessively on the back of her neck, and I force myself to let go, to step away. “But I can’t, Daisy. I could never do that to Jess. And… I can’t be with someone my son has been with. It’s… it’s not right.” As much as I want that. As much as I fantasize about it.
Daisy grips the edge of the table, staring at me. “Well, then I should probably tell you—” she breaks off and her cheeks redden, so much so that I can see it even under the dimness of the safety light. “Um…” She shifts her weight uncomfortably. “I was never with Jesse. Not… like that.”
I blink. She can’t be serious.
“I’ve never been with anyone,” she adds, so quiet I almost miss it.
“You’ve never…” I begin, and she nods in confirmation.
Sick of you, Miss Uptight, who wants to fucking talk all the time instead of actually fuck…
Jesse’s words come back to me, clear as day. He meant that literally. They never slept together. No wonder she was so embarrassed when he said that. Because she’s…
Shit.
She’s a virgin .
My cock stiffens again at the thought, despite myself, because there’s something about knowing no man’s fucked her that makes me want to be the one to do it—even more than before.
But that also makes one thing extremely clear: this will never happen.
“Jesus, Daisy.”
She stares at the floor, shriveling. “I know. It’s ridiculous at my age.”
I close the distance between us and take her face into my hands in one swift motion.
“It’s not ridiculous. It’s…” I try to think of the best word as I stroke my thumb over her soft, freckled cheek. “Lovely.” Because it is. Not that I have anything against women with more experience—Lydia had been with someone before me—but there’s also something nice about a woman who has waited until it feels right.
But this isn’t right.
She’s so young, and, God , innocent. She has her whole life ahead of her, with so much to learn and discover… and I’m a widowed man nearly nineteen years her senior, with a grown son. Even without the complication of Jess, I shouldn’t be pursuing her. I shouldn’t even be looking at her.
“It’s lovely,” I repeat. “But I can’t be the one…” I shake my head, lowering my hands. A vise grip tightens around my heart as I step away again, knowing what I need to say. “I don’t think we can see each other anymore.”
Her face falls. “Wes—”
“It’s for the best.”
Her brows slash together. “Because I’m a virgin?”
I grimace. “Yes. No. So many reasons. I’m forty-three, about to be forty-four. That’s too old for you, Daisy. And Jess…” I trail off because she already knows.
She nods, not meeting my gaze as she slides off the table and adjusts her dress. I hate the way she shrinks and curls in on herself. It’s exactly the opposite of what I’d hoped to achieve with this darkroom.
“I want you to come and use the darkroom, though,” I add, tugging my keys from my pocket. I slide the front door key off the chain, knowing I have a spare upstairs. “It’s for you. I want you to take the Nikon and shoot, and develop your pictures here.”
She gives me a frustrated look. “How’s that going to work? I appreciate the offer, but—”
“No, I mean it.” I press the key into her palm. “I get home late in the evenings. You can come after work, while I’m at the office, or on your days off. I want you to use it.”
She looks at the key. “You want me to come into your house when you’re not home, and use the darkroom?”
“Yes.” And when she looks like she’s about to protest again, panic surges through me. “Please,” I add, not caring about the pleading note in my voice. “I made it for you. I want you to have it. You need to keep shooting. Please promise me you will.”
Her mouth opens and closes as she studies me, then she nods. “Okay. I will.”
“And…” I sigh, ignoring the crack through my chest as I say the next words. “I’m going to find somewhere else to have my coffee.”