Just One Kiss (12 page)

He reached down to guide himself toward her. The head of his cock pushed against her opening. So intimate. So hot.

“Mmm,” she whispered. “Come in.”

Daniel pushed harder, another inch entered. Angela caught her breath, started to move, then stopped, forcing herself to be patient, to savor this. He closed his eyes briefly, let out a nearly silent
ohh
. Then the blue eyes opened again; he lifted and pushed powerfully, sliding into her wetness all the way, and oh, there was nothing like that first full slide inside. Her interior was alive with sensation, registering his thickness, his length, burning with excitement.

For a dozen heartbeats they lay still, joined, staring into each other’s eyes.

“Angela,” he whispered, “Thank you for bringing me back to life.”

Sweetheart.
Her heart swelled; she clasped his broad shoulders and tangled their legs, intensifying the pressure between them.

Wait…
Sweetheart?

What the hell was she thinking?

Daniel started a slowly, lazy, movement, thrusting in deep, holding one, two, three, then circling his pelvis to stimulate her clitoris, pulling in and out to a lullaby beat, then doing it all again. And again. And again.

Oh, oh, oh.
She’d never been made love to like this. So slowly, so sweetly, as if the contact between their bodies was all that mattered to him now and to the end of the world, while against all expectation, the leisurely pace only increased the intensity of her arousal. She was pushing back against each maddeningly slow thrust, making soft noises, fingers digging into his skin, her head lifting, then falling back, flour giving under the pressure.

Who had made the world disappear? There was nothing else but this man and what he was doing to her, nothing that she could take in except him, his body, his hard push inside her, the burning depth of her arousal and a slowly spreading deep, sweet ache in her chest.

What was happening? Was this—

No.
No.
Angela couldn’t be falling for him. She couldn’t be that much of an idiot. Not again. While she’d planned only to let him into her body, her foolish heart, not happy with only that much connection, was trying to invite him inside as well.

No and again no. He was a stranger; she was falling for a fantasy of him—the man who’d complete her life, rescue her from loneliness, protect her, adore her, spoil her and let her spoil him. The One, The Only. She’d stuck square Daniel into that round role without any deeper consideration than thinking he was hot. Love his body, yes, what he did with it, absolutely. But love him? No.

Choosing a life partner took much more than that.

Without realizing, her anger and confusion had made her movements more urgent, and Daniel responded, quickening his rhythm, using his hands to fondle and tease her breasts, bringing her arousal roaring back to life, more powerful than her worries.

“Ohh.” She lifted her legs, locked them around his back to draw him in deeper, squeezed her muscles to hold his erection tighter with each thrust. She wanted him to come quickly, she wanted to get out of this situation before she lost the rest of her heart. The rest of herself.

Daniel lifted his head, tipped it back, eyes shut, mouth half-open, shoulders and neck straining. He was close. Oh, yes, he was close. And so, so hot.

She closed her eyes to block him out, which only made it harder to ignore the delicious sensations between her legs, the pull and slide of him inside her. No, no, no, she’d been lying; she didn’t want this over with, she wanted it to go on and on and on.

Her desire built into certainty. She was going to come with this man inside her, and had an awful feeling she’d never be the same again.

A low moan escaped her. She pushed harder against him, lifting her hips, close to orgasm, then closer. Sweat broke out on her body, the wave crashed over her, hot and inevitable, leaving her gasping and crying out.

“Angela, oh, man, I feel you coming.” He held still while she pulsed around him, then dug his hands underneath her buttocks, thrusting hard, his breath coming fast and hoarse next to her ear.

“Angela.” He whispered her name, then stiffened and gave the sexiest groan she’d ever heard, pulsing inside her over and over.

Sweetheart.
She was full, full everywhere, full of him, between her legs, in her head, in her heart, on her skin.
Daniel.

Oh, God.

She was lost. Her only hope was that Daniel would also freak out over the power of what they’d shared.

He lifted his head from her shoulder, sated and blissful, eyes glowing blue, smile hovering over his masculine mouth, increasing both her tenderness and her jitters. This was not the face of a man who deeply regretted breaking his vow. This was the vibrant face of a man with potent sexual energy.

Planning seduction had been easier when he’d seemed adrift and miserable. Now Angela was in danger of being swept away by her reaction to this new, confident masterfully sexual Daniel, the same way she’d been swept away by Tom.

Except, no, damn it. Angela was not that same woman. This Angela was fully conscious of her patterns and perils. She’d set out to help Daniel break free, and in the process free herself to start dating men again. Mission accomplished.

But…she’d learned a lesson. No more fast and furious. From now on she’d take things slowly, date around, and stay away from flour sacks until she was sure the man was worthy of her feelings.

Which meant she’d need to extract herself from this situation right now, before she—

“Angela.”

“Yes?” She avoided his eyes. Looking into them was still too intense, still made her feel too much more than their brief association warranted. The urge to escape strengthened.

“I didn’t expect this. I didn’t think this would—” He shook his head, gave a wry laugh. “It’s too soon.”

“What do you mean.”
Too soon!
Angela was hopeful now. Daniel had been struck with a guilty conscience. He’d slide regretfully out of her body and say a fond farewell, sorry, but he couldn’t see her again for at least six months. He’d slipped once, yes, but a promise was a promise… .

It would hurt. She knew that. In such a short time she’d gotten to like this man unnaturally much. But separation was for the best. She’d have time to calm down, to date other men, get her feelings for this one in perspective. This would be the best and healthiest rejection she’d ever had.

She was ready.
I can’t believe this happened, Angela. Sex was a serious mistake we can’t repeat.

He opened his mouth. The words were on their way. She couldn’t wait. At the same time, God, she dreaded them. The bitterest pill…

“I can’t believe this happened, Angela,” he whispered, right on cue. “You’re so sexy I’m already hard again.”

9

“L
OOK
WHAT
I have
.”
Bonnie came into Angela’s shop holding the most gorgeous bouquet Angela had ever seen, all her favorite colors and flowers: fuchsia roses, red gerbera daisies, orange spray roses, burgundy mini carnations, peach Peruvian lilies, all against lush greens in a black glass vase.

“Oh, how gorgeous, Bonnie. You’ve outdone yourself.” Angela came out from behind the counter, drawn out of her irritable navel-gazing by the sophisticated riot of color. “Are these for your display window?”

“Nope. They’re for you.”

“Bonnie.” Angela glanced up at her, taken aback. Bonnie had brought over flowers now and then, a few stems she thought Angela would like, and which added a lovely touch of color and style to the bakery. But this…this bouquet would cost a fortune, and Angela was pretty sure Bonnie was in no shape to part with a fortune. “This is so sweet of you, Bonnie, but you don’t have—”

“Of me?” She grinned mischievously and set the bouquet on top of Angela’s display case where it looked absolutely stunning. “I put it together, that’s all I did.”

“What do you mean?” Something wasn’t making sense about this, but Angela was exhausted, hadn’t slept well, and had a million things on her mind today—new recipes, sales calls, wondering how her samples had gone over at Slatewood, and of course lots of quality freak-out time over what had happened last night with—

“Daniel.”

Angela blinked at Bonnie. How did she know? Had she heard or seen something?

“The flowers, Angela.” Bonnie spoke impatiently. “They’re from Daniel.”

“From…Daniel…” She stared blankly.

“Is this hard for you to understand? Would it help if I wrote it down?”

Angela snapped into focus. “Thank you, I got it.”

“You got it.” Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “What is this, a bad thing to get the most lavish, expensive bouquet I’ve had ordered in weeks? I’d be turning cartwheels.”

“Because you know how, Ms. Former Gymnast.”

Bonnie’s too-thin features tensed into concern. “What happened, Angie? I assumed they were I’m-falling-for-you flowers. Are they an apology? What did he do? If he was horrible to you, I’ll—”

Angela put a hand over Bonnie’s clenched fist. “He wasn’t horrible. I’m horrible.”

“
You
did something horrible and
he
sent you flowers?” She put a hand to her chest. “Oh, my God, does he have a brother? A single father? Widowed grandpa? I’d be all over that.”

“How would I know?” She couldn’t keep the exasperation from her voice. “I don’t even know the guy.”

“Okay, but by this time you must have at least an instinct about him.”

She did. An instinct that was shouting very loudly.
Run away, stupid! Falling for someone means vulnerability, and vulnerability means being wide open to betrayal and pain!

Making love—his choice of words had been absolutely appropriate—with Daniel had been so much more intense than she expected. Stupidly she thought she could just seduce him into a fun, playful hookup they’d both enjoy, maybe do it again a few times, maybe eventually settle into a relationship, maybe get back on their feet, romantically speaking, by getting off their feet. But no. That was for other women, stronger women, women in charge of themselves and their emotions. Not saps like Angela whose subconscious must still be in adolescence, equating kissing a guy with commitment. Making out with an engagement ring. Sex with a wedding night.

“I like him.” She shrugged and tried to laugh, but the effort fell flat under Bonnie’s scrutiny. “We have a good time. He’s fun to talk to.”

“Uh-huh. Fun to talk to. Right.” She fussed with a pink rose, pulling the stem up and replacing it. “I happened to see him leaving here last night when I was on my way upstairs. He looked pretty happy. A little disheveled.”

“Oh, well. He’d biked over.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Bonnie turned abruptly, folding her arms across her chest. “He had flour on his knees.”

Angela’s face immediately grew hot, and a smile she couldn’t control had its way with her mouth. She’d still had flour in her hair this morning. “I can explain that. See, he dropped a contact lens, and we were on the floor together looking for—”

“Bus-ted,” Bonnie sang. “So what happened?”

Angela slumped against her counter. “It was really, really nice, Bonnie.”

“And this is bad how?”

“I flipped out.” Angela gestured helplessly. “I don’t want a relationship. I don’t even want to
want
one. It’s too soon. I can’t get hurt again. This was supposed to be fun. Light and easy. And it’s…”

Bonnie raised her eyebrows. “Not?”

“Not.” Angela let out a long sigh. “I know myself. I attach too much importance to the tiniest feelings. I need to chill out and be friendly and not assume we’re getting married and that soon he’ll be cheating on me, all because last night we…got flour all over us.”

“Was it good flour?”

“It was.” Angela closed her eyes for a second. “The best flour I’ve ever worked with.”

Bonnie grinned about as wide as Angela had ever seen her. “You’re doing fine. Your instinct is right to play it cool. Guys are all over you for sex, but if they get the slightest whiff of I-want-more, they bolt.”

“Ooh, so can I get Daniel to leave me alone if I demand serious commitment?”

“Bingo. Wait, no.” Bonnie’s brows dropped into confusion. “That might not work with this guy. Those are
really
nice flowers.”

“They are.” Another sigh.

“And I don’t think you want him to leave you
totally
alone.”

“No. I don’t know.” Angela put a hand to her forehead. “This is all making me so tired. I need about a million hours to work everything out and start fresh.”

“I know, honey.” Bonnie gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I feel that way about once a month. It will be okay. Just be honest about what you feel, to yourself and to Daniel.”

Angela peeked at her. “Um. Like you are with yourself about Seth?”

Bonnie’s turn to sigh, only it came out more like a growl of exasperation. “If I though honesty would work, I’d try it. But right now the best weapon I have is to tell myself very firmly and with one hundred percent conviction that I am over Seth and to believe it. It works and I like it. Okay?”

“Yes. Okay.” Angela hugged her. “Maybe I need to try that.”

“You know, it’s not a bad idea. Makes dealing with the gorgeous, lovable bastards much easier. For once, you get to keep power on your side.”

Angela nodded. Yes. Exactly what she wanted. Exactly. To make sure going forward that when it came to relationships, power remained on her side.

* * *

D
ANIEL
WAS
FLYING
. Technically he was on his bicycle, but the way he felt, the way his muscles were working, sorry, gravity didn’t apply. Hills were nothing; he was Lance freaking Armstrong crossing the Alps in record time.

He was on his way to see Angela.

What a sap he was. Her name had been playing in his head all day at work, and all last night. He’d woken up this morning with
An-ge-la
still spinning in his mind, her image tattooed in his memory, a goofy smile on his face.

Last night she’d freed him. He’d gone over to A Taste for All Pleasures certain that his life was about to change, that she held the key to whatever new door would open for him. He hadn’t necessarily intended to make love to her, certainly not in the back room of her bakery. But she’d been so sexy, so seductive, that innocent sweet face coming closer, her long slender fingers breaking the cookie in pieces and feeding him, the soft touch of those fingers on his mouth.

All at once, understanding had hit him, clearer than ever, though he’d been inching his way there for a while. Jake had been right. This was his life, and it was okay to live it. Kate would understand, he was sure of it.

Mostly sure of it.

But he’d made his decision, had made incredible flour-sack-moving love to Angela. Twice. And instead of being racked with guilt afterward as he’d feared, Daniel had felt an enormous weight lifted, not only of grief, but also of an unwanted responsibility. Freedom from the hold Kate had on his life and on him that he’d started out cherishing, and ended up resenting, without being aware that he did.

Kate had been a lovely woman, and he’d adored her. She’d been the embodiment of what he needed at that time in his life. But he no longer needed that. Lying awake last night, finally facing hard truths he should have faced years ago, he’d also recognized that for the last couple of years he and Kate had together, being with her had felt less and less safe and comforting and more and more restrictive as he matured. The hardest truth of all was facing that their marriage might not have been a happy one.

In sharp contrast, being with Angela was thrilling and unpredictable and, most importantly, not already mapped out on her terms. Daniel couldn’t wait to go forward with her, discovering and defining each other and themselves as a couple for as long as they lasted, whether that was a week, a year or forever.

Yeah, he was flying. He turned onto East Olive Street, cold wind streaming over him, body warm from working hard. He hoped she’d liked the flowers, that her incredible smile had lighted her face—and probably the whole shop—when she saw them and realized they were from him. Had she lain awake last night thinking about him the way he’d lain awake thinking of her? Thoughts that had gotten him so hard, he’d had to reach under the covers and get some relief, while imagining her doing the same. In his fantasy, she was unbearably sexy touching herself. He’d like to see that. He’d like to see everything, do everything with her—on the big metal table in her bakery kitchen, bent over a couch, sitting in a chair, lying on a beach somewhere, in the woods. And yes, in bed. Long lazy hours under and over and tangled in the covers and in each other.

His cock was stirring just thinking about it.

Damn, how different the world and his place in it looked right now than it had two weeks ago. He couldn’t even imagine how he’d thought that previous life worth living. The clichés were true: the air seemed fresher, colors truer, Seattle seemed to have inched closer to spring. He probably had animated bluebirds and little red hearts circling his head.

He chained his bike to the rack outside Come to Your Senses and bounded up the steps, helmet in his hand, through the front door and straight into the bakery, passing an old woman in a hot pink suit.

Angela was bent down arranging odd-looking tarts of some pale yellowish fruit in the display case when he went in. Her long hair was swept back from her face and cascaded in a stunning fall visible through the glass. Her face looked rosy and sweet. His heart nearly stopped. God, she was beautiful.

A glance around told him his flowers weren’t there. Bonnie hadn’t brought them over yet? She’d promised to deliver them immediately after he called that morning. He’d hoped Angela would have them here in the bakery with her, where she could see them all day and be reminded of him. Maybe they were in the back, commemorating a certain stack of flour bags?

“Hi.” He let the simple word sound as intimate and tender as he knew how.

“Oh.” She jumped up, flustered, glanced at him guiltily, glanced away. “Hi, Daniel.”

Not quite the welcome he’d hoped for. “How’s the day going?”

“Fine.” She nodded, clutching an empty tray she’d used to unload the tarts. “Thanks for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome.” He stepped toward her counter. Something wasn’t right. She’d thanked him in a flat voice, without enthusiasm. Not that he needed her to gush over him or his gift, but…

Well, yeah, actually he’d hoped she would.

“Anything wrong?”

“No.” Her eyebrows were raised too high, she was shaking her head too rapidly, her smile was too forced. “Nothing. It’s all good. Good to see you, too. That was Marjorie you passed on the way in, in pink. She comes in every day to buy breakfast for the following morning. She’s a sweetheart.”

“Oh…” He was dumbfounded. This was not the reception he expected. What the hell happened between now and last night? He’d left her, melty and clinging, responding to his kisses as helplessly as he’d given them. He’d made her come twice more, once during the second time they had sex, once after that with his mouth. She was insatiable and uninhibited, without losing that sweetness that had drawn his heart in to a much greater degree than he expected.

Daniel hadn’t thought he was in any shape to fall for someone else this soon. But some relationships started that way, with a—wait for it—bang, and some took time to grow. This one was definitely a banger.

“Heard anything from your boss?” She was chipper. Chipper and brittle. He wanted to leap over the counter, grab her into his arms and kiss her until she melted back into the woman she was meant to be with him. The woman she’d been last night, free and confident, funny and bold.

“Larry took the samples home today. He leaves first thing in the morning for Detroit. I won’t talk to him until the end of the week.”