Blame It on Your Heart (13 page)

He watched, mesmerized, as her eyes drifted closed, her lips parting on a gasp, her eyebrows furrowing in a grimace of pleasure.

He began to move then, hard, slow thrusts that wouldn't make the mattress squeak or the bed frame rattle against the walls.

She let out a half gasp, half laugh. "Oh my God," she whispered, "you still know how to do the stealth fuck."

"Like riding a bicycle," he said and bent his head down to suck a nipple between his lips. He bit back a groan as her pussy clenched even tighter in response. Pleasure surged, threatening to burst past his last shred of restraint.

Ellie slid her hands down his back and cupped his butt. Her fingers dug into the muscles, urging him on.

She was close, he could feel it. And thank God, because he wasn't going to last much longer. Her muscles pulled tight with pleasure, a sheen of sweat blooming across her skin. Her sex rippling around him like she was trying to suck him deeper with every stroke.

He reached between them, burrowed his thumb in her folds until he found the slick bud of her clit. He stroked her in rhythm with his deep thrusts. Even though she didn't make a sound, he knew the moment she went hurtling over the edge.

Shaking, shuddering against him, as she rippled and pulsed around his cock, she buried her mouth against his shoulder to muffle her cry. The sharp sting of her teeth—Christ, how could he have forgotten about the biting—sent him over the edge.

Every muscle in his body went tight as he sank into her one last time. Gripping her hips, he held himself as deep inside as he could get as he struggled to hold back a bellowing groan.

Gasping, he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in the pillow next to her head.

Eyes closed, listening to her breathe, her body soft and yielding under him, her fingers trailing lazily over his back, he could almost pretend that the last thirteen years had never happened.

He was eighteen again, naked in bed with the girl he loved most in the world. The girl he was going to marry and share a bed with for the rest of his life.

It came out of nowhere, an up swel
l of emotion so powerful it was like physical being surging inside of him. His chest felt swollen and achy, his throat got tight, and his eyes burned behind his closed lids.

It was like every emotion he'd ever felt for Ellie was rolling over him. All the love and need to protect her and make her happy; the lust that had driven him to distraction once they’d really started getting physical.

And then there was the hurt, the anger, the humiliation when she threw his proposal back in his face.

He curled his fist against the mattress, swallowing hard to shove everything back down and seal it up tight. He was a thirty-year-old fucking man, not an eighteen-year-old hormone addled idiot foolish enough to think he'd met his one true love at the age of twelve. He had no business feeling anything for her or about her, except for sense of gratitude that she'd saved them both from making a huge fucking mistake.

So the chemistry between them was still white hot. He could easily indulge in it without letting his brain get mucked up with a bunch of crap from the past that was best left dead and buried.

Chapter 7

Ellie lay under Damon, savoring the weight of him against her, the feel of his sweat slicked skin under her fingers. His heartbeat thudded against her chest as she closed her eyes and breathed deep. Her body thrummed with aftershocks of pleasure, little electric currents pulsing in her core.

What have you done?
She shoved away the little admonishing voice. She knew damn well this was not the smartest move she could have made. Knew damn well she'd be kicking herself in a matter of hours, chastising herself for thinking she could fall back into bed with her long lost love and not have it take an emotional toll.

But right now, on this hot summer night, in her too small bed with Damon resting against her, she just wanted to revel in everything she was feeling at this very moment. Pleasure, sure, but also that feeling of heightened awareness, the sensation of being really, truly alive that she'd only ever had with Damon.

It was all so amazingly, wonderfully familiar, being with him. Yet different too. While her body remembered all too well the feel of his hands, he'd changed in the years they'd been apart.

His body was stronger, harder. His left bicep was decorated with the same skull and swords she'd seen on Brady. Under her fingers she could feel raised patches of skin, scars that hadn't been there before.

And then there were the changes to his personality. He was harder that way too. Demanding. Taking what he wanted when he wanted it.

That was how she felt now, she thought as her mouth curved in a secret little smile. Well and truly taken.

He sighed against her shoulder and rolled to his side, pulling her close. Ellie pressed her cheek against his chest, thinking it had been ages since she'd experienced a moment this perfect.

"You're an even better fuck than you were in high school."

She stiffened at the crudity. Not that she was expecting hearts and flowers. "Uh, thanks. Likewise," she replied.

He was silent a few more seconds, his hand idly stroking the curve of her waist. "Makes sense, considering all the practice we've had in the meantime."

Speak for yourself,
she wanted to say, the rosy glow of pleasure fading.

She wracked her brain for some sort of snappy comeback, but her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Jealousy twisted her stomach as she imagined all the nameless, faceless women with whom he'd honed his considerable skill.

All thoughts of other women and anything else fled as the metallic click of the doorknob echoed through the room.

"Mommy?"

With a curse, Damon dove to the floor and slid under the bed just as Anthony pushed the door open.

Adrenaline spiking her blood, she jerked the sheets up to her chin, praying that the shadows cast by the small bedside lamp would hide Damon's clothes, still crumpled on the floor beside the bed.

"What's wrong sweetie? Did you have a bad dream?"

Anthony nodded and scrubbed his eyes with his fist. "The bear was trying to eat me."

"It's OK sweetie, there's no bear here," she replied, once again regretting her decision to take Anthony to see
Brave
in 3d. Nearly a year later, and he was still having nightmares. Instinctively she reached out, and he hurled himself into her arms.

He squeezed her tight, then patted her bare back with his small hands. "Mommy, how come you're sleeping naked?"

She pulled away and held the sheet in front of her. "I got so hot and sweaty while I slept, I had to take my clothes off."

"Why didn't you just pull the blanket down?"

Ellie sat up and searched for her discarded tank top and shorts.

Spying them at the foot of the bed, she grabbed them and pulled the tank top over her head. "I don't know, but that's a great idea. I'll try that next time."

She shoved the shorts under the blanket and tugged them up her legs. Eager to get Anthony out of the room before he discovered the naked man under the bed, she got up and steered him gently toward the door. "Come on, I'll cuddle you until you go back to sleep."

It took a while to get Anthony settled down, and she wasn't surprised when she returned to her room to find it empty. She ignored the pang of disappointment as she climbed into her once again empty bed.

###

By eight thirty the next morning, Ellie was bitterly regretting her agreement to cover for Molly during the breakfast rush.

After Damon had left she'd tossed and turned for hours, unable to sleep as her brain tortured her by reliving every single moment, followed by his casually callous words after.

So dismissive. So emotionless. So unlike the Damon she'd known.

But he wasn't the Damon she'd known, she reminded herself as she cleared a half-eaten omelet and a plate that bore the remnants of today's special pancakes. Even if he hadn't told her in so many words, it was obvious to her in everything he did.

The way he kept his once easy smile to himself more often than not. The way he watched everyone and everything with that guarded expression, his emotions concealed.

The way he could bring her to an earth shattering orgasm, and then leave her without even saying goodbye.

Well, the leaving, she supposed, wasn't so different after all.

Eyes scratchy with fatigue, she pasted on a smile and went to greet a family of five that had been seated in her section. The parents looked at their phones, oblivious as the youngest, a boy, who looked to be about three, dove for the sugar bowl and starting spooning it directly into his mouth. The other boy, about Anthony's age, was squeezing the ketchup bottle and laughing as it arced out toward his sister, who was bent intently over her own phone, thumbs moving so fast they were a blur.

"Can I get you started with some coffee or juice while you read the menu?" Ellie asked, her jaw clenched against the urge to tell the kids to knock it off.

Mom looked up, a harried expression in her brown eyes. "Coffee, please, and orange juice for the kids. You want coffee?" she said to her husband, who hadn't bothered to look up. "Greg!" she snapped, and finally he looked up. "Do you want coffee?"

"Sure," he said, absorbed almost immediately by his phone.

"Are you ready to order?" Ellie asked after she retrieved their drinks.

Mom glanced up, looking a little startled someone had addressed her. She grabbed a menu and said, "Do you guys know what you want to eat?"

Silence. Mom looked over her menu and finally noticed her three year old lifting what was probably his dozenth spoonful of sugar into his mouth while her older boy had splatter painted his side of the table with ketchup.

"Scotty!" That must have been the older one because he startled, squeezed the ketchup bottle hard enough to send it arcing up and over into his sister's lap.

The girl jumped up and uttered a word that, in Ellie's opinion, should never be uttered by a girl that age. "Look what you did!" she said gesturing dramatically at her shirtfront decorated with sticky red goo.

As she flung her arm it connected with a glass of juice and sent it flying. It landed on the floor with a crash and sent a wave of orange up the front of Ellie's legs.

"Every time I see you you're getting something spilled on you."

Ellie's entire body went hot at the familiar voice. She turned to face him, and the chaos at the table faded into the background the moment she met his dark, impenetrable stare.

Callous or not, Damon still had a way of capturing every shred of her attention.

She was vaguely aware of the parents hustling the kids away from the table and in the direction of the bathroom.

"Don't you want to go clean up?" Damon's voice jolted her out of her fog.

She shook her head to clear it, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the orange juice forming a sticky film on her legs left bare by her shorts. "Right," she said. Deciding it was better to avoid the ketchup-splattered girl and her mother, Ellie went back to the kitchen and wiped her legs down with a wet dishtowel.

Adele greeted Damon with a smile and then turned to where Ellie stood at the sink, scrubbing at her legs. "What happened to you?" asked Adele, who was busy loading a plate of Brady's special sweet potato hash and another round of pancakes onto her tray.

"Orange juice casualty," Ellie replied and swiped a towel up the inside of her knee. She turned to look at her mom, catching Damon's stare in the process. It followed the towel's progress up the inside of her thigh with a heat so intense she feared she was going to burst into flame.

"What's that on your neck?" Adele asked as she passed Damon on the way the dining room.

Damon lifted his hand to the left side of his neck.

"No, the other side. It looks like bruise or something."

Ellie tossed the towel next to the sink, her face going impossibly hotter as she saw what her mother was talking about.

She had a sudden, vivid memory of her lips and teeth closing over that patch of skin, the hissing sound he made as she bit down in order to muffle the sound of her scream as she came.

"Must be a bug bite or something," Damon mumbled as dark slashes of color appeared on his cheekbones.

"You might want to put some calamine on it," Adele offered, as she hefted her tray up to her shoulder and exited through the swinging door that led into the dining room.

Across the kitchen Brady let out a loud snort. "Bug bite my ass. What's her name?" Then to Ellie, "Got your eggs Florentine and goat cheese frittata up," he said and slid two loaded plates onto the raised serving counter.

"Shut up." Damon muttered.

Ellie busied herself garnishing the plates and loading them up on a tray, praying the blush flaming her cheeks wouldn't clue Brady in.

"Was it Amy? She was all over you at the party. Did you finally take her up on it?"

Ellie grabbed her tray, a little too forcefully and some home fries slid off a plate.

"It's none of your fucking business," Damon snapped.

"Ooh, must be someone special if she's making you this defensive."

Damon let out an exasperated sigh. "Just shut the fuck up okay? It's nothing I want to talk about."

"If you don't want to talk about it you might want to tell your girlfriend not to give you a giant hickey where everyone can see it."

Ellie took that as her cue to make her escape.

She delivered her order and refilled water and coffee for all of her tables. The nightmare family appeared to have taken their leave, so she set about cleaning up the carnage they'd left behind.

She'd just finished bussing the plates and silverware when a large, tan hand appeared and began wiping the table down.

"You don't have to help me," she told Damon.

"I know, but right now we have a thirty minute wait and the quicker we can turn over tables the better."

I'm not helping you, I'm helping the restaurant.
Message received.

"Also I wanted to touch base and see if you'd had time to run the numbers so we can get back to Jane with a quote."

"I was planning to put that together after I get through the lunch rush. I should be able to have the numbers by three."

"Good." Damon straightened and tossed the rag in the bin with the dirty dishes. "I'll be at the Gas N Go. Bring them by."

"Can't I just email them, and you can call me with any questions?"

"You could," he said, leaning his hands on the table so his gaze was level with hers. "But I'd prefer to go over everything in person."

The way his gaze flicked down to her mouth, lingering there before drifting back up should have set off all kinds of alarm bells.

She should be offering up any number of valid excuses why it wouldn't work. "See you at three."

By the time three o'clock rolled around, Ellie had determined two things. One, they needed to find another liquor distributor for the restaurant. Two, she needed to nip whatever was going on between her and Damon in the bud.

Her life was insane enough, she reminded herself as she walked the half a mile to the Gas N Go, not to mention stressful. That's all she needed, to add to the emotional turmoil by hooking up with an ex-boyfriend who was, she was pretty sure, still holding a grudge.

Last night's indiscretion needed to be forgotten. From now on she was locking her bedroom window and keeping their relationship strictly professional.

The blast of air conditioning rose goose bump
s on her legs and arms as she pushed open the door.

Ellie called out a greeting to Janelle, who was behind the counter fixing an espresso drink for a customer.

"You still need me to come by tonight?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Ellie said. "I've been working since 6:30 this morning. I don't know how far I'll make it into the dinner shift before I fall over." The fact that she'd had so little sleep last night made everything all the more challenging.

She shoved the reasons for her sleeplessness aside as she continued to the back of the store where Damon's office was located.