Hearts on Fire (6 page)

Twice should have been more than enough, especially since both had been as intense as any sexual encounters he’d ever experienced. But tell that to his dick. The appendage was half way to GO again.

Give her time.
Tonight might be a one-night stand—hell, it had to be—there couldn’t be more for the kind of people they were. She led a nomadic life, and he was rooted to Somerset. But they had the entire night. His cock might not like it, but he would let Shannon decide when or if they fucked again. So far, the night had been all about him and his needs.

He rolled his head to the side, forcing himself to look at the woman with an objective eye. They’d both been going at it hot and heavy for the better part of an hour, and no matter how fit a person was, that kind of physical activity could take a toll.

Though her eyes were closed and her breathing even, as evidenced by the steady rise and fall of her magnificent breasts, he didn’t think she slept. Then she moved her right hand over her stomach, stroking the pillow of flesh there. With each languid stroke, her hand crept closer to the juncture of her thighs. As she cupped her mound, she closed her thighs tight. His dick responded to her moan.

Fuck, watching her touch herself was the single hottest thing he’d ever seen. He stripped off the spent condom, tossing it on the nightstand while grabbing for another. His hands shook, but he managed to get the fresh latex on without breaking anything important. Covering her hand with his, he wove his fingers between hers, finding her flesh warm and swollen.

“Still aching, babe?”

“God, yes. I need….” Her hand beneath his applied more pressure.

“I know exactly what you need.” Parting her thighs, he settled between her legs, using his shoulders to open her wide. “Show me where it hurts.”

In answer, her fingers parted, the index and middle ones sliding deep into her folds. His mouth watered at the wet, pink petals opening before him. His cock throbbed, trapped between his body and the mattress. He’d never wanted to taste anything the way he wanted to taste her.

Reaching up, he gripped her wrist then gently removed her hand. Opening his mouth over her, he took as much of her in as he could. Her body became a live wire, dancing and arcing. Slipping his arms beneath her thighs, he immobilized her then resumed his mission.

Drinking in her sweet, intoxicating honey, he knew he could easily become addicted to her. Shoving the disturbing thought to the back of his mind, he concentrated on making her feel good. Collecting her elixir with the flat of his tongue, he savored her, licking with broad strokes then delving inside her opening for more of her juices. The little pleas and moans reaching his ears guided him to the things she enjoyed the most. When a light flick of his tongue over her clit garnered a curse word, he returned to suck the tiny bud between his lips. Tightening his hold on her, he sucked and nibbled until her curses turned to quiet pleas for mercy.

He loved knowing he could make her lose control, loved watching her come, and most especially, he loved having her essence on his face and his lips.

He closed his teeth over her clit, biting down enough to let her know who was in charge then, easing the sting with his tongue, he flicked lightly at the tender bundle of nerves. She came in a rush of liquid fire he gulped at like a dying man at a freshwater spring.

Before the last spasm rocked her body, he came to his knees between her legs. Lifting her hips, he drove into her. Two thrusts and he came, unraveling like a ball of twine dropped from a skyscraper. The only question was—would the ball of twine hit the concrete below with a thud or a splat?

When his vision cleared, he looked at the woman he’d just taken like a Neanderthal. God, she was beautiful. Expecting disgust at having been used to slake a need he himself couldn’t completely comprehend, the expression on her face rocked him back on his heels. Still flushed from her orgasm, eyes closed, a smile curved her lips up on both corners. Her features were soft, not tight with an unpleasant emotion. For the first time since he’d backed her against the wall, he began to think perhaps she might be enjoying the night as much as he was.

CHAPTER SIX

Shannon looked out the passenger side window at the pastel ribbons of light beginning to displace the night. She’d lost count of the number of times they’d come together the night before. After the first two, they’d talked about doing it slower, going slower in order to savor the moment, but they’d only accomplished the goal the last time. After sharing the shower, they’d napped for a while on separate sides of the big bed, but she’d awakened to find herself in the center of the mattress with Steve’s much larger body wrapped around hers, his erection pressed into the small of her back.

One nuzzle to her neck, and she’d lifted her leg over his, allowing him entrance. Cocooned in the dark room, held firm by his strong arms, she’d closed her eyes and let her other senses take over.

He smelled of the hotel soap they’d both used, but the heavy musk of their previous encounters still clung to the sheets, a strangely effective aphrodisiac as it turned out. The hard wall of muscle pressing against her back and the rough hair on his long legs entwined with her shorter ones felt foreign, yet comforting. His breath, hot on her neck, seemed almost as intimate as the joining of their bodies, which, for the first time since they’d entered the hotel room, proceeded at a languorous tempo.

His body had become a drug for her. She couldn’t get enough. She’d had more orgasms in this one night than she could remember having in the entirety of her previous life. Unwilling to let memories intrude on the present, she forced the thoughts away, focusing instead on the steady slide of hard muscle between her legs, impaling her with slow, deliberate strokes that stoked the banked fires of her desire.

She drifted in a mindless state of bliss, absorbing the feel of him surrounding her, inside her. With one hand, he cradled her head resting on the steel of his biceps while his free hand traced the curves of her body.

His touch had ignited a fire under her skin, one that warmed her to her soul. He’d worshipped her body, caressing one minute, arousing the next, until her breasts had ached for more.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

Shannon jerked up straight in her seat. She hoped the darkened interior would hide the rush of heat to her cheeks at being caught daydreaming about being with this man
. If he only knew how much last night meant. But he could never know.
They’d both wanted a casual hook-up, and that’s all their night together had been.
That’s
all it can ever be.

“Just thinking about my day.”

“Lots of things to do?”

She closed her eyes, chuckling to herself at the small talk. He didn’t want to know about her day. Why would he? He had a daughter to go home to, and she had…nothing. “Oh yeah, lots.” The fib tripped easily off her tongue.

“I’d say I’m sorry for keeping you out all night, but I’m not.” He swung the pickup into the makeshift camp behind the faire. She pointed out her motor home, a monstrosity she’d learned to drive out of necessity. He pulled up in front, putting the gearshift in park.

This was the moment she’d dreaded ever since she’d come down to earth from that last, sanity-stealing orgasm. She’d been in enough emotional trouble from the other times, but the one in the early hours of the morning had been her undoing. If she gave herself half a chance, she could fall for this man, but she didn’t do relationships. Not anymore.

She allowed her lips to curve up in a tiny smile that in no way matched the roiling kettle of feelings inside her. If Steve caught even a glimpse of her tumultuous emotions, he’d run screaming. She didn’t want to scare him. He was too nice a guy, and what he’d done for her was nothing less than a miracle, but she couldn’t tell him that either, so she opted for making her abrupt request to be taken home seem as casual as possible. “Thanks.” She curled her fingers around the door latch. “For everything. I had a good time.”
The best time of my life.

“I should be thanking you and apologizing, too. I’m not usually so…rough.”

Heat washed over her entire body at the mention of those first times. She didn’t know which she had liked the most, those or the last time when he’d been nothing but gentle and loving. They’d all been special in their own unique ways and exactly what she’d needed when she needed it. If he’d been tender with her at first, she probably wouldn’t have been able to go through with it. Taking her hard and fast hadn’t given her brain or her body time to process the soul-deep fear underlying her need.

“Please, don’t apologize. For anything.”

Before she said anything more incriminating, she pushed the door open and hopped to the ground. Without looking back, she made her way to her mobile abode and stepped inside. The privacy curtains over the windshield prevented her from watching him leave, but from the place where she crumpled to the floor, she listened to the sound of the powerful engine growing fainter in the distance.

~~~

“Daddy!”

“Huh?” Steve focused on his daughter, who sat next to him at his mother’s breakfast bar, a bowl of soggy cereal in front of her. An adorable mess in pink kitten-print pajamas, her hair even more tangled than usual. The crusty bits in the corners of her eyes attested to the full night of sleep.

“Can we go back to the faire today?”

A blast of images rushed through his mind, none of which he could share with his daughter. He turned his head, coughing into his fist, buying time for the flush of arousal to leave his face before he answered.

“Why don’t we do something else? How about a bike ride?” She loved to sit behind him while he peddled them around the wide path along the beach. “We could take a picnic.”

“We’re going over to see Aunt Patty.” His mother entered the kitchen. She wore her usual summer outfit, short pants—capris, she called them—and a sleeveless button up shirt. Her short, graying hair was neatly styled, thanks to a standing appointment she kept, no matter what. She glanced at him then made her way to the new-fangled coffee maker. “What are you doing here so early?” she asked, popping a single serving cup into the brewer.

“I wanted to have breakfast with my two favorite girls.” He tweaked Meggie’s nose, earning a giggle from the little girl. God, he loved to hear her laugh. Seeing his daughter happy and carefree filled his soul.

His mother leaned against the opposite side of the wide island, coffee cup in hand. “Patty is meeting us at the mall for lunch. I thought I’d do some shopping, maybe get a few things for the munchkin here. I think we’ll get our nails done while we’re out, too.” She turned to her granddaughter. “What do you say?”

“Can I get my toes painted, too?” Meggie was all girl, something he found frightening and adorable all at the same time.

“I don’t see why not. Steve?”

He hated that his mother bought most of Meggie’s clothes, but he’d given up arguing with her about it long ago. His mother and his aunt loved to spoil his daughter. He gave his mom a disapproving look before conceding defeat. “I can’t compete with those plans.” He stood. “You need anything before I go?”

“Not a thing. You go. Enjoy your day off. We’ll be fine.”

Taking his daughter in his arms, he hugged her tight. Her little arms wrapped around his neck, and the sweet smell of Ivory soap on her skin melted his heart. He placed a kiss on the top of her head then set her back on the barstool. With an unnecessary reminder to be good, he headed out the door.

The sun-warmed cab of his pickup seemed empty as he drove down Main Street toward his tiny house on the other side of town. He’d needed to see his daughter this morning—needed to remind himself of who he was. Meggie came first. In order to preserve his sanity, nights like the previous one were a necessity. Over the years, he’d managed to see to his baser needs without taking anything away from his daughter. Anything more than a one-night hook-up would disrupt the most important relationship in his adult life, and he’d never let that happen.

So, why was he turning toward the ragtag camp behind the faire instead of going home? He wasn’t going there to fuck, he knew that for sure. They’d put a serious dent in his small stash of condoms, including using the one he kept in his wallet for emergencies that he hadn’t thought to replace before he left the house. He’d have to work up the nerve to buy more in the town’s one drugstore, where the woman working the front cash register was friends with his mother. Or he’d have to toss a box into the cart the next time he went to the grocery store, and that wouldn’t be any better since Meggie usually went along on those trips.

They had a routine. She sat in the cart and read the list to him—his way of teaching her to read simple words since their list usually consisted of the same things every week. He could imagine her reading the list. “Milk. Bread. Bananas. What’s this, Daddy?”

“Condoms, sweetie.”

“That’s a funny word. Condoms! Condoms! Condoms!”

He could hear her yelling it all over the store. He shook his head to clear the nightmare from his brain. No. There’d be no sex today. Stopping in the same place he’d parked in the predawn, he stared at the luxury motor home and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He’d been too blind with lust this morning to notice, but her motor home stood out from the rest. For one, it appeared fairly new. The custom paint job still had a gloss to it the surrounding campers didn’t have. Not to mention Shannon’s rig dwarfed all the rest. He had no idea there was so much money to be made in homespun cloth.

There isn’t.
A burst of rage shot through him, though why he should care how she made her money escaped him. He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d been lied to, and the lie, more than the thought she might have some other less legal means of support, cut him to the core. He didn’t associate with criminal types. Couldn’t because of Meggie. He’d never do anything that might bring harm to his daughter.

A man, wearing only a pair of cargo shorts and smoking a cigarette, stepped from between two campers, gave Steve’s truck an assessing gaze, then, apparently deciding there was no cause for alarm, sauntered off in the direction of the makeshift paddock where they kept the horses used during the jousting events. Steve wouldn’t trust the man within a mile of his daughter.