Discovering You (13 page)

He
was
settling, but that didn't mean he could sleep. No matter how hard he tried to hold still and concentrate on other things—various issues at work, on the repairs he needed to make to his bike, or what he might hear from Liam Crockett—he couldn't drift off. He spent the next hour fighting the urge to touch her.

Keeping his hands to himself was hard enough when he could only smell her perfume. But as time went by, she gravitated closer and closer. Before long, she was pressed right up against him.

The feel of her soft legs against his made him so hard he knew he was wasting his time even
trying
to sleep. He'd have to move to the couch.

He was just sliding out of bed when he realized that, as careful as he'd been, he'd awakened her. She didn't speak, but he noticed that her breathing had changed, and he could feel her watching him—or what she could see of him—in the dark.

“Am I keeping you up?” he murmured.

“No.”

“I can go somewhere else.”

“Don't leave.”

He stopped inching toward the edge of the mattress. “Okay. I'm here. Go back to sleep.”

They stayed like that, beside each other without touching, for the next few minutes. But instead of relaxing and eventually nodding off, they grew more stiff and tense. He could sense her awareness of him. Being in the same bed had suddenly become as awkward for her as it was for him.

Rod was about to say he wasn't helping her out by staying when he felt her hand on his arm. “India...”

“Please...don't talk,” she said.

He was still hesitating, trying to decide if he was letting his body lead him into an emotional ambush, when that hand traveled from his arm to his chest. Sucking in his breath, he closed his eyes as her cool fingers found their way under his T-shirt and moved over his stomach and pecs. “I want you,” she murmured. “I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you, bloody knuckles and all. I've never experienced that with anyone else.”

That statement set him apart from every other man, even her dead husband. And being taken seriously by her was all he'd ever asked. He had no idea if what they felt would last. He'd never had a girlfriend for more than a few months at a time. What his mother had done had somehow damaged him, cost him the ability to trust, and without trust he sometimes feared love would be impossible. But he'd been as instantly attracted to India as she was to him, and he wanted to give what they felt an honest chance. “Rod? Is that a no?” she asked.

“That's a yes,” he said and turned her onto her back.

12

I
ndia stared up at Rod as he removed the silky shorts and spaghetti-strap top of her pajamas. The sudden exposure to the air—and particularly his gaze—puckered her nipples and caused gooseflesh. She thought he'd smooth all of that away by immediately pulling her against him, but he rocked back on the bed so he could look at her.

“Gorgeous,” he said with satisfaction.

India wished that didn't flatter her as much as it did, wished he'd say or do something that would turn her off. She needed to come up with some complaint she could use to build an emotional barrier between them. That giddy rush of falling for someone left her with no defense.

Was she succumbing to her own foolishness once again? Welcoming the wrong type of guy into her life?

Perhaps. But temptation had never been presented to her in a more appealing package...

“Then touch me,” she said.

He slid his good hand lightly up her thigh, over her hip and waist to her left breast, where he flicked his thumb across the sensitive tip before lowering his head.

India gasped as his mouth closed over her and she caressed his recently cut hair.

“I wish I didn't have this cast,” he mumbled as his mouth traveled up her neck. “It's frustrating, but my biggest regret is not being able to use both hands on you.”

“You're doing fine with just one.” She was so excited she could hardly breathe, but what he was doing wasn't so different from the other men she'd known. His touch seemed to hold a certain magic. Not since high school had she been this physically attracted to someone. She used to think that kind of all-consuming desire came only with first love, and after she and Sam split up, she thought the feeling would be gone forever. Since Sam, it
had
been gone. But this encounter flew in the face of all that.

“And there's still the rest of you,” she said. “That feels like plenty to me.”

“I'll give you all I've got,” he promised and found her lips.

India loved the way he kissed. As eager as she was to experience what was coming next, she refused to rush this part and was glad he didn't seem to be in any hurry. He paid attention to every nuance, every reaction, and made the most of what he learned. She liked how he drew her out of her hesitation and her fears and managed to get her to completely relax, forget, trust. He seemed to care about what she was thinking and feeling and wanted to engage her mind before engaging anything else. The tender way he touched her face when their tongues first met was a perfect example. She almost thought she could be satisfied just making out...

“When you're so good with your lips, you don't need even your hands,” she told him.

He lifted his head to smile at her. “We'll still use what we've got.” He ran his fingers down between her breasts to show her that his hand could bring pleasure, too. Then he sat up to remove his own shirt. When his bare chest came into contact with hers, India blocked out any lingering doubts floating around in her head. She just wanted him to kiss her again and again.

“My heart's never pounded so hard,” he whispered with a husky laugh.

Could that be true? she wondered as he began to explore the rest of her body. He acted as if being with her was special. Did he treat every woman this same way? She had no answer, but for a brief moment she was tempted to pull away and hurry home. Returning to her house, in spite of Sebastian, suddenly felt safer than staying here—and that told her a great deal.

But she'd started this. She couldn't bail out now.

Besides, she knew she'd be sorry if she left. Whatever Rod had to offer, she wanted.

“I can make it pound harder,” she said and slipped her hand into the basketball shorts he'd worn to bed.

When her hand closed around him, he groaned, and that made her feel desired, powerful and as beautiful as he said she was. “What do you think?” she asked. “Do you like that?”

“I like
you
,” he replied.

They were getting carried away. But any thought India had of trying to rein this in, even on an emotional level, was gone with the rest of their clothes.

“Tell me you have condoms,” she whispered, already cursing herself for hoping he wasn't at the store earlier, buying some.

“I do. And I'll use one. But we're not ready for that quite yet.”

“Why not?”

He held her chin as he made eye contact. “Because we've got all night. I plan to enjoy you in other ways first, and since I can't use my hand, we're going to plan B.”

India didn't mind plan B. Plan B was probably most women's plan A. She closed her eyes as he kissed his way down her stomach and had to bite her lip so she wouldn't cry out when he spread her legs.

* * *

Rod had always loved women, probably a little too much. He figured it came from growing up in a houseful of boys. All five of them were the same—a little too fixated on the fairer sex. That was part of the reason he and his brothers had the reputations they did. He'd enjoyed his previous encounters, but this...this was even better.

Rod loved the way India tried, at first, to stifle her reaction, to be reserved and subdued. She fought to keep her self-control, as if holding back would create some emotional distance. But she couldn't manage it, and nothing was more fun than watching her succumb to his lovemaking. It was almost as if they were wrestling in a swimming pool. She'd break free and start for the edge, and he'd catch her and drag her under again. Except that she
liked
going under; she just didn't know how to deal with feeling so powerless.

There were moments when guilt stood between them, when she seemed ready to bolt. But he couldn't hold that against her. If she could relegate him to the category of nothing but a cheap thrill, like she'd tried to do the night they met, she wouldn't have any reason to feel guilty. It was the guilt that told him this wouldn't be the same with just any man.

He was prying her away from Charlie, and he was using sex to do it. Charlie couldn't give her that. Rod felt bad about what had happened to the guy, but even if Rod stayed away from her, it wouldn't change the fact that Charlie was gone. Besides, when it came to India, Charlie possessed every other advantage. Sex would work, in the way Rod wanted it to work, only if there was something deeper, and it was that deeper element that made this so spectacular.

When her thighs began to quiver and she groaned despite herself, he nearly rose up and buried himself inside her so he could experience her climax more intimately. But he didn't want to frighten her by suddenly getting too assertive. He was going slow, trying to build her confidence and draw out the pleasure.

But all of that fell by the wayside after her climax. Soon, they were completely intertwined, touching and tasting each other everywhere. And she seemed as overcome as he was, no longer even tried to break free of the power that bound them together. “I can't wait to feel you inside me,” she said. “Where are the condoms?”

He'd been holding off for her benefit, not his, so she could get all she wanted or needed of the other physical aspects. He wasn't too confident he'd last once he started to thrust inside her. He felt dangerously close to the edge right now, with her bare skin moving against his and her hands— God, she was talented with her hands.

He was glad she was eager to have him where he wanted to be. It was particularly gratifying that
she'd
asked for that final, intimate step, even though she'd already come.

When he settled himself between her thighs, she gripped his ass as if joining with him was the supreme moment, and within minutes he was trembling himself.

“Give me a second,” he breathed, staying completely still so their lovemaking wouldn't be over too soon. “Let me make you come again,” he said, but she didn't need any special effort or encouragement. They were both so aroused that bringing her to a second climax didn't take any work. Their bodies moved instinctively, in perfect rhythm, straining to get closer, to be more connected—until he heard her breath catch and felt her jerk beneath him. Then he knew he'd reached his goal, and burying his face in her neck, he abandoned all restraint, letting the pleasure he'd been holding at bay flow through him.

After that it wasn't remotely hard to fall asleep.

* * *

The alarm went off a few minutes later. Actually, it felt like minutes, but it was really four hours. Rod hated to get out of bed. He wanted to stay and make love to India again. They were all tangled up in each other, still naked, so he felt he'd be passing up the perfect opportunity.

Except he'd be late for work, and then his brothers would come pounding on his door. Even if he wasn't conscious of protecting India's privacy, which he was, he planned to avoid the ribbing that finding their neighbor in his bed would provoke. If he could...

With a sigh of regret, he kissed her shoulder and got up to shower. He didn't usually shower before going to the shop; he showered after, since that was when he most needed it. But he thought he might smell of her perfume.

“Everything okay?” she asked with a sleepy yawn.

“Fine. I've got work. But you're safe here. Sleep as long as you like.”

“You're not the only one with things to do,” she mumbled. But he could tell she was joking, because she didn't bother to prove how busy her schedule was by dragging her butt out of bed. She rolled over, taking the covers with her, and he chuckled as he stepped into the bathroom.

Rod showered quickly, pulled on his jeans and a clean T-shirt and was about to head down for some breakfast when he heard a knock on the door to his deck. He couldn't imagine who it could be, especially this early.

Sebastian came to mind. Even though India's ex would have no way of knowing she was with him, it was the thought of the man who'd killed her husband that made Rod walk over to see who was there. And then he wished he hadn't—although it would've been worse if India had been forced to get up and answer the door.

“Hey, Theresa.” Keeping his voice down, he stood in the gap so she wouldn't be able to see there was someone in his bed. Theresa worked as a hairstylist. She usually didn't begin her day until ten or so, and yet she was completely ready. “What are you doing here?”

She raised the basket she had in her hands. “I decided to bring you some breakfast. You know, to prepare you for a long day at work.”

Unsure how to respond, he hesitated. He didn't want to lead her on, but he also didn't want to be rude or hurtful. “Actually...”

“What?” she said. “You love scrambled eggs and bacon. I've even got some fresh-baked muffins in here. You'd have cold cereal otherwise, right?”

That was true. He ate cold cereal or a quick bowl of oatmeal almost every morning and liked nothing more than a home-cooked meal. He hadn't had the privilege of growing up with parents who made dinner—or parents at all. He'd been raised on microwave food, unless Dylan was on a health kick. Then they ate vegetables and lean meat, with no salt or sugar—nothing that could possibly be called “comfort food.” Maybe that was why they all loved Just Like Mom's. There, they could get homemade chicken potpie, meat loaf and potatoes, chicken-fried steak with potatoes and gravy, and the best pies in the world for dessert—all the things Rod imagined his mother would've cooked if she'd decided to stay around. “I
do
like scrambled eggs and bacon, and it was really nice of you to go to so much trouble, but after what you said last night, I'm not sure I feel comfortable accepting it.”

She lowered the basket. “I could see that surprised you. To be honest, it surprised me, too. I didn't plan to tell you how I feel when you were on a date with someone else. But it's true, Rod. I've loved you for a long time, and I feel we've had enough of a relationship that I should have the right to fight for you.” She held out the basket a second time. “So please, take this. And don't worry that eating my food means you owe me anything. I'm just giving you a sample of what I can offer. What I'd
like
to offer. If you stick with me, I'll be your biggest supporter, your biggest cheerleader. Think about coming home to a hot meal and a willing woman every night.”

Rod was flattered, but this was even more awkward than if she'd gotten angry. The conversation had probably awakened India. He felt certain she was listening. “You have a lot to offer any man,” he said. “I'm not sure I'm the right one.”

“Other women may be prettier or more exciting. I can see why you'd be interested in your neighbor. But no one could ever be more devoted to you than me.”

She was really going for the close... He cleared his throat. “I appreciate that.”

“Please, take this,” she said. “And enjoy it. I liked making it for you. Someone with your past might not believe a woman will see it through if and when the going gets tough. But I'm here to tell you I'm not like that. I'd
never
hurt you.”

Rod didn't have the heart to let her continue holding that basket, so he took it. “Theresa, I'm sorry. I...I don't even know what to say. I don't want to hurt you.”

“Then don't. Give me a chance.”

“But—”

“You don't have to answer now. Just...think about it. Think about
me
,” she said, and with a hopeful smile, she left.

“Am I already getting in the way?” India asked when she was gone.

Rod sighed as he shut and locked the door. “No. You're fine. Are you hungry?”

“You're going to share the breakfast she made with
me
?”

“What else can I do? Let you go hungry while I eat?”

“Seems weird, that's all.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I had no idea she'd show up here—or say what she did last night. Until now, she's let me call the shots.”