Blame It on Your Heart (19 page)

Damon ground his teeth against the pleasure roaring through him as he drew his hips back and thrust hard, giving her exactly what she wanted. He pounded into her as his fingers slipped and slid against her.

Suddenly every muscle in her body stiffened, her pussy clamped so tight around him he could barely move.

This time he let her go, watching her mouth open in a silent scream before she turned her face into the pillow to muffle her cries as she came, shaking, underneath him.

He drew up on his knees and held her hips in a tight grip as he took his pleasure. He watched, riveted as his cock, shiny wet from her, disappeared inside her tight folds. Marveled at how they fit so perfectly together, her body custom made to give him maximum pleasure every single time.

Mine!

The word roared through his head as his orgasm bore down on him with the force of a tsunami. Washing over him, crushing him, killing him as he collapsed on top of her.

He rolled to the side, taking her with him. He tucked her into him, her back to his chest and threw his leg over her as though he was afraid someone was going to try to steal her away.

As if he was afraid she would try to escape.

He told himself it wasn't tears making his eyes burn as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along her smooth shoulders, down the side of her neck. His hands slid up and down her sides and arms, cupped her breasts. Starved for the feel of her after too many days away.

He nuzzled against the nape of her neck, and she turned her head to meet his kiss. Then she turned away with a sigh, nestling her head against the arm he'd tucked under it.

"What the hell are we doing?" she whispered, her voice so low he wondered if she meant to say it out loud.

He answered anyway. "Hell if I know. All I know is that whatever it is, I can't seem to stop it."

Chapter 11

Ellie was grateful for the chance to sleep in the following morning, though Anthony's idea of letting her sleep in was rousing her at eight thirty. However, she conceded as she pulled him in for a cuddle and followed him blearily to the kitchen, that was better than the six am wakeup she'd had all week, helping her mother with the breakfast shift, followed by working on the final details for the upcoming party.

Surprisingly, she'd managed to fall asleep after Damon's visit, and by her third cup of coffee the cobwebs were mostly cleared from her brain.

"What do you say?" she said to Anthony as Adele put a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him.

"Can I have ketchup?"

Ellie shook her head.

"Can I have ketchup please?"

"What do you say when someone prepares a wonderful meal for you?" Ellie sighed.

"Oh," Anthony said, straightening in his chair. "Thank you Nana for this delicious breakfast."

"You're welcome," Ellie's mother said and pressed a kiss to the top of his dark head.

"So, Mom, how about that ketchup?"

Ellie arched an eyebrow at him. "How about you ask me the right way?"

"Can you get me the ketchup pleeeeeeeaaaaaase?" he replied, stretching his mouth over his tiny little baby teeth on the last word.

She couldn't help but grin back as she rose to retrieve the ketchup. A grin that morphed into a grimace when Anthony immediately covered his eggs in a layer of red so thick you couldn't see a hint of yellow beneath.

Like most Americans, once upon a time Ellie had enjoyed a squirt of ketchup on a burger or to dip her fries. But not since Anthony had discovered ketchup and drowned everything from eggs to filet mignon with it.

Any appetite for breakfast she might have had disappeared and she lifted her coffee mug to her face to try to drown out the sickly sweet smell.

After breakfast Adele announced that she was spending the day with Vivian. "We're headed over to the flea market in Livingston."

"Are you still going to take me to the pool?" Anthony asked. Cindy had taken him several times in the last few weeks, and he was dying for Ellie to go with him for once."

"I need to get a little work do—"

"Mooooom," he drew the word out so it had several syllables, sounding closer to fifteen than five. "You promised we would go today," he said, tears starting to fill his dark, accusing eyes. "Besides, you're working all the time. Don't you want to be with me sometimes?"

"Of course I want to spend time with you," Ellie said, her heart squeezing with guilt. For the last three weeks she'd only seen Anthony for a couple hours a day. Though she knew many working parents saw their kids less than that, she wasn't used to spending so much time away from Anthony, and Anthony wasn't used to spending so much time away from her.

After the party was over, she reminded herself, things would settle down.

And what then?
A voice niggled in the back of her head. She needed to get a job that paid better than she what was getting helping out at the restaurant. One that would likely not be somewhere Anthony could pop in and say hi at random times of the day like he could now.

A job that would likely be far away from Big Timber, since she still couldn't see living here long term without becoming completely miserable.

Despite Damon's visit last night, she held no illusions that he had visions of any future for them.

"I can't stop it," he'd said. And the best way she could describe his tone was defeatist.

She shoved the memory away and ignored the twisting feeling in her stomach that came with it. Today was all about Anthony, and she wasn't going to take her attention from him to waste it on trying to figure out what was going on inside Damon's head.

She held up her hands, hoping to avoid a total meltdown. She looked at the digital display on the microwave. "You see the clock? What time is it?"

"Nine three oh."

"Okay, when the clock says"—she paused a minute and did a little mental calculation of how long it would take for her to make her phone calls, catch up on email, and get their stuff together—"eleven oh oh, we'll leave."

Satisfied with this compromise, Anthony happily plopped himself down in front of the TV to watch cartoons until it was time to go.

They spent the rest of the rest of the day at the park, swimming and sunning. After they ate the sandwiches Ellie packed, they got ice cream cones from the snack bar.

After several hours they were sunbaked, starving, and ready to call it a day. Ellie made a quick stop at the grocery on the way home to pick up supplies for a dinner of Anthony's favorites. Cheeseburgers, carrots and ranch dressing made "from scratch," meaning from the dry mix, and cookie dough ice cream for dessert.

Ellie turned on the ignition, cringing at the high-pitched squealing that hummed through the car as she pulled out of the parking lot. She didn't know a ton about cars, but she'd learned enough from hanging around Damon and his family to know she was likely facing a transmission problem.

Add that to the nearly bald tires that could blow at any minute, and she was looking at repairs to the tune of... Nothing she could even dream of affording in her current state.

"Mommy, why does the car make that noise?" Anthony said around a yawn from the back seat.

"Because it's kind of sick."

"Then we should take it to the car doctor."

If only it were that easy.

Once again she silently cursed Troy and the circumstances he'd saddled her with. It wasn't like she was even complaining about driving a Honda instead of a BMW. She just wanted to be able to fix her car so she wasn't holding her breath every time she drove it, praying all the way that she would make it wherever she was going.

"I need to save up a little more money first," she replied, and breathed a slow sigh of relief when she pulled into the driveway.

They went inside, and she set up Anthony with some cartoons while she unpacked the groceries. She unwrapped the ground beef, dumped it in a bowl, threw in some salt and pepper, and was about to start mixing when there was a knock at the door.

Despite her near constant admonishments not to answer the door by himself, Anthony sprinted to the entryway and flung the door open before Ellie cleared the kitchen.

She hesitated, her heart jumping to her throat when she saw Damon standing in the doorway.

"Mommy, Damon's here," Anthony said.

Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, every cell of her body humming with awareness. His thick, dark hair was rumpled, like he'd been running his fingers through it, and the skin of his face and his arms, left bare by the sleeves of his T-shirt was a shade darker as though he'd been out in the sun all day. In his jeans and work boots, he looked tough and rugged and so tempting, if it hadn't been for Anthony's presence, Ellie would have been hard pressed not to throw him down on the hallway floor. "I can see that. Hey," she said, suddenly aware of her sunbaked, windblown appearance, the ratty cut off shorts and stretched out tank top pulled on over her bikini.

"Hey yourself," Damon said with a funny little smile that widened as his eyes traveled down to her bare toes and back up again. Apparently he didn't mind her grubby appearance.

Just as he hadn't minded on those hot summer days all those years ago, when he'd pull her into his arms after a day spent at the pool. He'd never minded the coating of sunscreen and grit, her damp tangled hair. And the only concern he'd given to what she was wearing was how quickly he could get her out of it.

And she'd felt the exact same way about him.

Her body flushed with heat that had nothing to do with a day spent in the sun, her brain flooding with the memories of those hot summer days. Melding with more recent memories of hot summer nights.

Her gaze met his, and heat flared as though he was reading her thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" Anthony asked bluntly, jarring her from the inappropriate track her brain was taking.

Damon jerked a little too, shook his head as though to clear it, and grinned down at Anthony. "Your grandma sent me over. She said something's wrong with the washing machine." He tilted a questioning look at Ellie.

"Yeah, it keeps getting stuck in the middle of the cycle."

He nodded and followed her down the hall to the closet that held the stacked washer and dryer while Anthony trailed behind.

"Considering mom bought this thing when we moved in, we're lucky it still works," she said and switched on the washing machine so Damon could witness the problem.

He listened, his brow furrowing, even closing his eyes for a moment in concentration. Then he nodded abruptly and opened his eyes. "It sounds like a clog in the drain hose outlet. Shouldn't be too hard to fix," he said and started back down the hall.

"What's a drain hose outlet?" Anthony asked as he started to follow, his feet moving double time to keep up with Damon's long strides.

"It's the pipe that takes the water from the washer," Damon said patiently. "If it gets clogged, the water can't go anywhere, and the machine shuts itself off."

"How are you going to fix it?"

"Anthony, don't get in Damon's way," Ellie admonished. "I think we have another episode of
Dinosaur Train
on the DVR—"

"He won't get in my way," Damon said easily. "He can be my helper. Can you do that?"

Anthony nodded eagerly.

"First thing, help me carry in my tools, okay?"

"Okay!" Anthony shot down the hall and out the door so fast Damon had to jog to keep up with him.

"Let me know if he's too much of a pest," Ellie called, but Damon waved her off.

She retreated to the kitchen to cut Anthony's requested carrots and prepare the burgers. As she worked she could hear a mix of male voices, one high pitched and childish, one low and rumbling.

At one point she heard Damon laugh at something Anthony said and told herself the only reason her eyes were stinging was because of the onion she was slicing.

"All fixed," Damon said, his boots thudding on the linoleum floor while he wiped his hands on a rag.

"And I helped!" Anthony said as he darted around Damon. "I got to use a screwdriver and a—what was that thing called?" he asked Damon.

"A pipe wrench."

"A pipe wrench," Anthony parroted with a wide grin.

"He told me he'd never seen one before," Damon said as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands.

Ellie shrugged. "If anything ever happened to our apartment, the super took care of it while we were out. And Troy wasn't exactly into working with his hands."

There was a slight stiffening to Damon’s shoulders, his motions jerky as he dried his hands. When he turned around, his mouth was tight around the corners as his gaze drifted over her and Anthony, who was too busy sneaking a potato chip from the bowl she'd filled to notice the sudden tension between the grown-ups.

"Hello," her mother called out as she entered the door that led from the garage into the kitchen, her hands full of shopping bags.

"Let me get that for you," Damon said and sprang forward to take the bags from her hands.

"Thank you, dear. Just set them on the stairs. You get the washer fixed?"

"Yes ma'am," Damon called from the hallway. "And your grandson was a great little helper." He walked over to Anthony and gave his head an affectionate scrub.

"Good, you're teaching him some practical skills. Lord knows he never would have learned them from his father."

"Mom," Ellie said in a warning voice.

"Oh good, you're getting dinner started," Adele said as though Ellie hadn't spoken. "We were so busy we didn't have time to eat anything since breakfast, and I, for one, am famished."

"Well I better get going—" Damon started.

"You're staying for dinner," Adele said. "I insist."

He was going to refuse, Ellie could tell from the set of his mouth, the tension in his shoulders.

She felt a stab of hurt at the idea that he could sneak into her room in the middle of the night to fuck her, but he couldn't stand to share a meal with her.

Then she watched as his gaze drifted over to Anthony, and what she saw there shocked her. Not anger or resentment at the physical evidence that Ellie had chosen to marry a man so different from Damon in every way.

What she saw was sadness, mixed with a regret so profound she felt it calling to the very depths of her soul.

Was it possible that he still grieved for what they'd lost? For the dreams of a life, children of their own, that never came to be?

She didn't know what she could do—hell, if he even wanted her—to fix it.

All she knew was she desperately didn't want him to leave. Especially not with that look in his eyes.

"Yes, please stay," Ellie said. She reached out, hesitated, and put her hand on his hand.

His eyes met hers, searching.

"Please," she said, squeezing his hand. It was such a casual touch, nothing compared what they'd done to each other the night before. And yet, the way his fingers curled around hers, the slow warmth building in his eyes, felt more intimate than when he was naked and driving inside her.