Chapter 15
Starving even as his body felt sated, he made them an omelet out of everything he found in the fridge, spinach, heirloom tomatoes, red peppers, mushrooms, and garnished with an avocado.
Her kitchen was just the right size, with all the utensils and gadgets close at hand, even a double oven for cooking holiday meals.
The dining area took up part of the living room, with a sofa in the middle separating the two halves.
Sliding glass doors offered a view of rolling hills.
Stained glass peacocks filled round portholes in the wall overlooking the living room, to be seen from down here as well as in her bedroom above, though he hadn’t noticed them when he was up there.
He’d had other things on his mind. From the main level, one set of stairs led up to her bedroom, and another set led down to where her daughters’ rooms must be.
“You’ve got a lovely place here.”
Until today, he hadn’t realized an enclosed atrium stood just beyond her front door, thinking that door led directly into the foyer. But the atrium was charming.
“Thank you,” she said with a pleased smile. “It’s comfortable. More than enough for one, even when the girls visit. And may I say you’re an amazing cook?”
He grinned. “I’ve lived alone for twenty years. My mother used to come over and instead of making me dinner, like a normal, coddling mother would, she had me do all the work while she sat at the kitchen table and gave me instructions.”
“I think I like your mother.”
“She’d like you too.”
She looked down at her plate, and he knew he’d made her uncomfortable. But it was too late for her to shy away from the facts. They’d had a fabulous first date, and she’d made love to him with her mouth.
He went on telling her about his family. “My mom lives in a retirement community in Saratoga with her second husband. They have their own cottage, but there’s all the facilities they need if anything happens.”
“I hope they’re both in good health now.”
“They are. My dad’s in Florida and claims all the golfing keeps him healthy. What about your parents?”
“They’re both good, still back East. My dad and my stepmom, I mean. My mom lives in Michigan. With all of them being so far away, I don’t see them often enough. My husband and I moved out here almost right after we were married.”
He was getting a better picture now, putting together all the snippets she’d told him.
Her husband had been a controlling asshole.
He’d separated her from her family when she needed a mother most, when she started having children of her own.
The guy might not have done it on purpose.
But he’d taken her away from everything she knew. And he took sex on his terms.
As they washed the dishes, she was uncharacteristically quiet, at least different from the verbal woman she was on the phone.
“I saw that huge bathtub in your master bedroom.” He’d cleaned up in her en suite bathroom. “After a long day of hiking, I think we deserve a good soak.”
“But we both have work tomorrow.” She didn’t look at him.
He grinned anyway. “I promise you’ll get your beauty sleep. But I think we’ll both sleep so much better after a nice long bath.” He leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. “Especially after I make you come multiple times,” he whispered.
He knew the sex would get her—he’d come, but she hadn’t yet—and this time he led her up the stairs.
They lounged in a tub of bubbles up to their chins until the water turned lukewarm.
She lay between his spread legs, her back to his chest, her head on his shoulder.
He played idly with her beneath the water, his palms cupping her breasts, his fingers stroking her nipples, then trailing down between her legs.
She shivered and writhed against him, bringing his cock to life, but he didn’t bring her over the edge, not yet.
Towel-drying her when they got out, he worked his way down her body, sucking her nipples, spreading her legs, putting his tongue to her heated core. If she’d wanted him to go home rather than climbing into her bed, she’d have to say the words.
He threw the covers all the way back on the bed, scattering the stuffed animals her daughters had given her.
Picking her up in his arms, he laid her down in the center, then he made her come three times with his tongue, his lips, his fingers.
She was pleasure-drugged when he bent back on his haunches and pulled her legs over his thighs, entering her to rock slowly just inside.
“Where’s your vibrator?” he asked.
She pointed to the bedside drawer, and he had to leave her long enough to get it. Then he flipped it on and handed it to her. “I know this is how you like it. You told me. And I want to watch you.”
He wanted to see her come hard. This was better than the first time. They could take it slow, just the way she liked it.
“Do it now,” he urged her.
She flipped on the vibrator, put the tip to her clit, and gasped the moment he entered her. “Oh my God, that’s so good.”
The exquisite feel of her body surrounding him, working him, hot flesh to hot flesh, was a heaven he’d never known with any other woman.
He’d done so many of the same things, and yet with her, it was beyond any other experience.
She moaned and cried out, stoking his fire, and when her legs quivered and her breath came in fast puffs, he felt how close she was.
The vibrator and his slow moves did the trick, and in the next moment, her body clamped around him.
She cried out his name, her eyes squeezed shut, and he took her the way they both needed, hard, pounding into her, his thrusts fast, going high and deep.
When she came apart around him, he let go.
He couldn’t have held off a second longer.
When he lost himself inside her, he’d never wanted anything more.
Knox slid to the side, pulling her with him, staying seated firmly inside her.
Summer should have sent him home, but she needed this, the tiny tics of their bodies as they came down off the high, the feel of him filling her up, the ache in her muscles, the heat of his body. Then her fantasy turned to reality as she fell asleep with his cock inside her.
Just like the story he’d told her last night, she woke to the feel of him inside her, moving, bringing her so close to the edge that her climax seemed almost like a dream. It went on and on until his hot seed filled her up.
After everything they’d done in the night, she thought she’d wake up late, rushing to get ready for work, flying out the door. But she woke early, rested and sated in his arms. They showered together, played a little.
While she dressed in her suit, he made her toast and coffee.
It felt like coupledom.
When they were ready to go, with her garage door open and Knox’s car in the driveway, he took her chin in his hand and kissed her lightly. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that wasn’t a good idea, but he cut her off. “I need this again. Because it wasn’t fucking, it was making love. What we’re doing isn’t just a couple of fuck buddies getting together. It’s now become a relationship.”
Then he kissed her again, deeper this time, sweeter.
“You sound as controlling as my ex-husband,” she muttered.
“No. I’m arrogant and pushy. There’s a difference. Because you can always say no to me, and I’ll accept it.” He reeled her in for another breath-stealing, bone-melting kiss. “If you really want to say no, that is,” he murmured against her lips.
He rubbed his nose across her cheek, kissed her earlobe, then walked to his car and climbed in, waving to her as he drove away. Ridiculously, she stayed rooted to the spot for too long after he was out of sight.
He was right. She could say no to him. She could walk away if she wanted to. But damn him, she didn’t want to.
And that made him dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than her asshole ex.
He was arrogant and pushy, but he wasn’t controlling. He just knew they should be together. It was as if he’d been waiting twenty years for her. As if he’d never had a real relationship since his wife, as if in his dreams, his fantasies, he’d been waiting for Summer. She was his destiny.
And he was hers.
He just had to get her to see it.
That evening, since she hadn’t texted the word no and hadn’t called to say no, hadn’t even walked by him in the halls of West Coast Manufacturing and shaken her head at him, he planned out the night.
When he’d dropped by his house to change his clothes that morning, he’d packed a gym bag with extras.
And tonight, before driving to her place, he stopped for takeout.
He could have cooked, but he didn’t know what she had in the house, and he didn’t want to shop.
And yeah, it was arrogant that he chose takeout without calling her, and pushy that he was about to show up on her doorstep.
But he wasn’t a controlling asshole like her husband.
And she could still tell him to go away if she wanted.
After he’d tried to convince her to let him stay, of course.
When he knocked, she took so long that he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then again, maybe she wasn’t home yet.
When she finally opened her atrium door, he saw how much the place suited her, with its hanging pots of flowers, a little bistro table with three chairs, one for her and the other two for her girls. A hydrangea bloomed in a big pot, and more tubs blossomed with azaleas and rhododendrons.
They’d need to get a fourth chair for that bistro table.
She still wore her business suit, and he salivated, remembering how he’d sat on her bed to watch her dress that morning. She stood there holding the door, blocking his entry, looked at the takeout bag and then to his face.
And said, “Okay, we’re going to need more rules.”
Oh yeah. They would need rules. And she was going to love them.