Sex Machine: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (12 page)

My most valuable equipment is stowed in a fireproof vault that I hope is also waterproof. Why can’t I remember if it is? Surely I should know that. I turn onto Highland and immediately encounter water rushing toward me. At the far end of the street, I can see emergency vehicles and a geyser shooting water high into the air. Shop owners and business people are gathered on the sidewalks that line the street, keeping a close watch on the rising water.

For a second, I’m not sure if I should get out of the car and battle my way to the studio or if it would be safer to stay in the car. One of the local cops, a guy I grew up with, waves for me to go on ahead. Johnny wouldn’t wave me through if it was dangerous, would he? I hope not.

I press the accelerator and hydroplane my way down Highland Avenue, pulling into the parking lot next to the studio and running for the back door, where the water is already ankle-deep. When I open the door, the water rushes into my pristine studio, and all I can think about is the entire weekend Lauren, Julie, Matt and I spent refinishing the wood floors. I’m no expert, but even I know that wood plus water isn’t a good thing.

Determined to save what I can, I spring into action, grabbing armloads of matted photos and carrying them off the showroom floor to a table in the back room that’s four feet above the water. If it gets that high, we’re in really big trouble.

I splash through the water that continues to rush in through the front and back doors as I make numerous trips back and forth with armloads of stock photos. It’s above my ankles and rising by the second. Why can’t they shut it off or do something to make it stop? Grabbing up boxes of props that I use for my desert photos, I’m on the verge of panicking about the possibility of losing everything I’ve worked so hard for when Blake appears like an apparition at my back door.

He directs his men in a strong, authoritative voice, and they begin sandbagging my back door. “Go around to the front,” he orders some of them. “Hurry.”

Dumbstruck by the sight of him, I watch the muscles flex in his arms as he quickly builds a barrier of sand to keep the water out of my studio. As he works, he occasionally looks my way, his intense blue-eyed gaze slamming into me, putting me on notice that we have unfinished business.

“I’ll be back,” he says when they’ve built a wall of sandbags that slows the water to a trickle. “Be here.”

He’s gone before I can formulate a reply. And what exactly would I say to that anyway? I’m resigned to having one last conversation with him about what went on between us before we return to life as friends who’ve known each other since we were kids.

I can do that, or so I tell myself, trying not to think of the late-night encounter in his bed that tipped my world on its axis and filled me with relief and excitement and joy like I’d never known. It was all a tease. I get that now that I’ve had some time to accept that he doesn’t remember anything that happened between us last night, even if I already know I’ll never forget a second of it.

For one brief, shining moment, I had everything I’ve ever wanted in the palm of my hand, so close I could taste the sweetness of my future laid out before me with a strong but complicated man who loves me. Then it was snatched away ruthlessly, and no matter what he might have to say to me, I need to remember how badly that hurt.

I busy myself sorting through the photos that are now stacked in disorganized piles on my worktable. My gaze falls to one of my favorites, the famous Hotel Paisano, where James Dean, Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor stayed during the making of the 1956 film
Giant
.

I’ve poured my heart and soul into my work because I didn’t have anywhere else to direct my love since Gran died. My affection for Marfa, the town that rallied around an abandoned baby girl, shines through in every photo I’ve ever taken of the famous courthouse, the Marfa lights, the Chinati and the various art installations that make our town so unique.

I love this place and wouldn’t want to live or work anywhere else, but now I’ll have to worry about running into Blake in random places like the grocery store or post office, tearing the scab off the wound each time I come face-to-face with those cool blue eyes. I’m well aware it’s a wound of my own making, beginning with the words “I want you to fuck me,” but that doesn’t make the wound any less painful.

“I’m sorry about that, Gran,” I whisper to the silence that surrounds me in the studio. “I never should’ve propositioned him the way I did. You were right about the importance of being a respectable lady. But I don’t regret anything that happened with him, except for the fact that it ended. I wish we could’ve had more time. I wish I could keep making him happy the way I did when we were together. More than anything, I wish he remembered what happened last night.”

“Why don’t you tell me?” he says from behind me.

I whirl around, shocked that he came back so soon, that he heard what I said, that he wants to know what happened.

He closes and locks the back door to my studio. “We’re not leaving here until you fill in the blanks for me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does. I think it matters a great deal.”

“You were straight with me from the beginning. It’s not your fault that I blew it up to be more than it was ever supposed to be.”

“You’re not the only one who did that.”

“I’m not?”

He shakes his head. “Something happened last night. I know it did because I saw proof of it this morning.”

I give him a questioning look, wondering what specifically he’s referring to.

“Exhibit A was waking up naked with you. Exhibit B is the clothes I found on the floor of the bathroom—yours and mine mingled together in one pile. Exhibit C would be the dried blood on my cock that’s had me spinning all day because I made you bleed, Honey. You have to tell me what I did, if I hurt you, if I—”

I can’t bear the agony I see in his tortured expression. I go to him and place two fingers over his lips. “You took the last of my virginity, and I loved it. Mostly.”

His eyes go wide with shock. “No…”

“It’s okay, Blake. Really. You may not remember, but we both enjoyed it.” I let my hand fall from his mouth. “I’ve loved the time we spent together, but I was aware of your rules going into it, and I respect them.”

“Fuck my rules.” His arm whips around my waist and pulls me in tight against him so quickly, I lose my breath as I crash into his chest. With his free hand, he tilts my face up to receive the most desperate, passionate kiss of my life. I can do nothing but hold on tight to his shirt and hope he keeps his arm around me so I don’t become another puddle on the floor. “I want you, Honey,” he says many heated minutes later. “I want more than just a weekend with you.”

“How much more?” I fight to keep my foolish heart from jumping in before we have all the information.

“I’m not sure. I wish I could say that I’m capable of everything, but I honestly don’t know if I am.”

“You
are
, Blake.” I flatten my hands on his chest and look up at him, hoping he can see that I’m putting my heart on the line. “You just have to give yourself permission to be happy. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember what it felt like to be truly happy. It’s been such a long time, years… And then a beautiful girl walked into a bar and turned my orderly world upside down.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and runs his fingertips over my cheek. The light caress makes me tremble.

“Did I do that?”

“You sure as hell did.” He nuzzles my neck, and the scrape of his whiskers against my sensitive skin is an instant turn-on. Hell, everything he does turns me on. “Honey… There’s one thing I have to know for certain.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re really okay after last night? All I can think about is blood—”

I kiss the words off his lips. “I’m fine. I swear.”

He releases a deep sigh that sounds like relief to me. “Let’s get this water cleaned up, and then I want to take you on a proper date. Would that be all right?”

“Yes,” I say, smiling up at him. “That would be all right.”

I
t takes
hours to clean up the studio, even with the powerful pumps and vacuums Blake brings from his company. After we do everything we can to dry out the studio, we move to Lauren’s flower shop, where we find my best friend in tears as she contends with the damage to her business.

I envelop her in a hug while Blake gets to work sucking up the ankle-deep water.

His friend Garrett joins us, and the four of us work together to clean up the mess.

Lauren orders food from the part of town that wasn’t affected by the flood, and we devour the meal before going back to work. Outside, the sound of pumps running fills the air as other businesses clean up from the near-disaster.

Though I’m exhausted and aching from head to toe, I keep at it until most of the water is gone from Lo’s shop.

Blake leaves us both with industrial-strength driers that will run overnight.

“I had no idea those things even existed,” Lauren says when he drags the machine in from his truck.

“I bought them a couple of years ago, just in case,” Blake says.

“Well, thank God for that,” I say.

“No kidding,” Lo adds. Her curly hair is piled on top of her head in its usual messy bun, and her brown eyes shine with unshed tears. “I can never thank you guys enough for helping me.” She gives Garrett a shy smile. His dark hair and T-shirt are damp with sweat, but the grin he sends her way lights up his brown eyes.

“Happy to help,” he says. “Any time.”

I don’t think he’s as immune to her as she’d like to think, but I keep that thought to myself for now. There’ll be plenty of time to dissect Garrett’s potential interest with Lo after we get some sleep and have our emotions under control.

“Do they know what caused the main to break?” Garrett asks Blake.

“Haven’t heard yet, but I got a call from the county that they needed help fixing it. I sent a team over there earlier. I’m waiting on a status report from Matt. The good news for you ladies is that they’ve managed to shut off the water, but that’s bad news for everyone who lives nearby.”

“You’re one of the lucky ones,” Garrett says. “Crisis is good for business.”

“I’d never wish this on anyone, even if it is good for business.”

I like his answer. I like it a lot. He feels for those of us who nearly lost everything, even if the flood will turn out to be profitable for him.

“Do you think it’s safe to leave?” Lo crosses her arms around herself protectively as she inspects her disheveled shop. Like at my studio, we moved everything to higher ground, and it’ll take her most of a day to put things back where they belong after the shop dries out.

“I’ll stay for a little while longer if you want to be sure,” Garrett offers.

She visibly brightens. “You will? Really?”

“Sure. I don’t have anything going on tonight. It’s no problem.”

I can see she’s fighting back tears that are due more to exhaustion than anything. It takes a lot to rattle my girl, but nearly losing her livelihood would bring anyone to tears.

“Call us if you need anything,” Blake says, kissing Lo’s forehead on the way out.

“Thank you so, so much, Blake. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help—and your stuff.”

“My stuff is your stuff.” He cuffs her chin. “Get some sleep.”

“You, too.”

Blake ushers me out the door ahead of him. “Leave your car here. I’ll bring you back in the morning.”

He hasn’t said or done anything sexy except infer that we’re spending the night together, but that’s all it takes to make me forget that I’m tired and sore and emotionally drained. My nipples tighten, and my clit stands up to take notice of his hands on me as he helps me into his truck.

Before he can get away, I curl a hand around his neck and draw him in for a kiss. “Thank you. Those two little words seem so inadequate in light of what you did for me—and Lauren—today.”

“Entirely my pleasure, Honeypot.” He kisses me, softly and sweetly, as if he knows that’s all I can handle right now. “You have to let me go if I’m going to drive you home.”

“Oh,” I say with a dopey grin. “Sorry.”

Smiling back at me, he kisses me again. “I’m not sorry.”

I watch him round the front of the truck, feeling happy and joyful despite the hellacious day we just put in. I get to go home with him at the end of it, and what could be better than that? Is it silly for me to be a teeny, tiny bit thankful to the flood that forced us to confront what’s been happening between us?

Maybe, but I’m not sorry we’ve had this breakthrough or whatever you want to call it. I missed him terribly in the week we spent apart after our wonderful weekend, far more than I’ve ever missed any man I dated in the past. I carried the longing for him around with me like an ache that couldn’t be soothed no matter how hard I tried.

He drives out of Lauren’s parking lot and reaches for my hand, linking our fingers in a tight, possessive grip that thrills me. Blake Dempsey wants to possess me. I can’t think of anything better than that.

At my house, he tells me to wait for him and comes around to help me out of the truck. Normally, I don’t require help, but I’m so tired, I happily accept it. Plus, it’s another opportunity to have his arms around me. Call me a shameless opportunist, but I love being in his arms.

He keeps up the TLC theme when we get inside, steering me directly to the bathroom where he draws a hot bath and helps me out of my clothes.

I hold out a hand to him. “Come in with me.”

“Love to.” He keeps his gaze trained on me as he pulls the T-shirt over his head, revealing the extraordinary chest that’s been the source of my fantasies since our first night together, and drops his shorts to reveal he was commando all day. I lick my lips and look up to see the fire in his eyes.

“Make room for me.”

I scoot forward while he gets in and then relax against his chest.

He wraps his arms around me, and I sigh with pleasure. “Can I have a rain check on that date you promised me?” I ask.

“Absolutely. I’m toast after this crazy day.”

“Me, too.”

“Honey… I’m really sorry about what happened last night. I just keep thinking about what you said we did, and how ashamed I am about that happening when I was drunk. I never should’ve touched you, let alone…
That
. I feel like a monster.”

I reach back to caress his face. “I knew you were drunk. I wish you remembered, but we were both at fault.”

“I never drink like that. Or I haven’t in years anyway. Won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Is it okay for me to ask… What brought it on this time?”

“It’s okay for you to ask, and if you must know,
you
brought it on.”

“
Me?
What did I have to do with you getting roaring drunk?”

“Everything,” he says with a sigh. “I’ve thought about you constantly since that weekend we had together, and I wanted more but didn’t know how to go about asking for it. I told you it would just be those two nights, and I wanted to be fair to you, so I stayed away, and that about killed me. I hit the bottle last night because I needed some relief from the longing.”

His confession makes me sad for him and happy for both of us at the same time. “I missed you every day that you stayed away.”

“You did? Really?”

“Really. I thought about you and us and the amazing sex we’d had nonstop.”

“The sex was pretty damned amazing, but that was only part of it.”

With my head resting on his shoulder, I look up at him. “What was the other part?”

“You, Honey.
You
were the most important part. I felt so… I don’t know… calm when you were around. Peaceful. I mean, not all the time.” He waggles his brows to convey his meaning. “But most of the time, I was calm. I’m not explaining this well at all.”

“You’re doing a great job of explaining exactly how I felt, too. Since Gran died, I’ve felt sort of lost and alone, and for a short time when we were together, I didn’t feel quite so alone.”

“Yes,” he says with a sigh that sounds like relief. “That’s it exactly.” He tightens his arms around me and brushes his lips over my hair. “Earlier, when I thought I’d ruined any chance I ever had with you, it hurt like hell.”

“I’m sorry you were hurting and that I didn’t answer when you came to the door. I just needed some time to process everything.”

“You needed some time to process that something big happened between us and I don’t remember it.”

“Something like that.”

“What else happened besides what you’ve already told me?”

I can’t say it. I can’t tell him that we were throwing the L word around out of fear that he’ll run away and never come back.

He nuzzles my neck and gently cups my breasts, running his thumbs over my nipples. “Tell me, Honeybee. I want to know. Fill in the blanks for me. Tell me everything.”

I’m not sure if I can or should do that, but I resolve to try. “Jimmy called me because he remembered us leaving together that first night. He said you needed a ride home, so I drove out there.”

Blake blows out a deep breath. “I hate the idea of you coming in there alone when I was too out of it to look out for you.”

“No one bothered me.”

“You were lucky—we both were. I shudder to think about any of the guys who hang out there touching you.”

There’s that possessive streak again—the one I shouldn’t love as much as I do. “Anyway, I talked you into letting me drive you home, and you made me promise I would stay.”

“And did you? Did you promise?”

“It seemed important to you, so I did.” I cover his hands on my breasts with my hands, needing to touch him. “You fell asleep on the way home, and I had to plug your nose to wake you up.”

He snorts out a laugh. “That’s a dirty trick.”

“It was the only way I could get you to wake up. I wrestled you inside, and you insisted we needed a shower. Then you dragged me in with you and somehow managed to recover enough to have shower sex that became bedroom sex when you carried me into your room.”

“I wish I could remember that.”

“I wish you could, too, especially the next part when you said you wanted me there, and begged me to let you. I couldn’t say no to you because…”

“Why?” he asks, his tone urgent and desperate.

“You said you’ve loved me for as long as you’ve known me.”

“Ahhh, Honey,
God
… I’m such an asshole.”

“Why? Because it’s not true?”

“No, because it
is
true, but that was no way to tell you so.” He hugs me even tighter, so tight I have trouble breathing. “Let’s get out of here.” He releases me and gets out so he can help me. Wrapping a towel around me, he dries every inch of me and makes quick work of drying himself. Then he takes my hand and leads me to bed.

Blake turns the AC down to a cooler setting, and we snuggle in under the covers, meeting in the middle where he pulls me in tight against him. “I made you bleed, Honey,” he whispers. “That’s all I can think about.”

“You didn’t hurt me, not like you think you did. It did hurt, but I’m fine, and it was pretty great once it stopped hurting.”

“Really? You liked it?”

“I liked it. It’s not something I want to do all the time, but maybe on special occasions, I could be convinced.”

I feel his lips curve against my forehead. “What would constitute a special occasion?”

“Our anniversary, your birthday, when you bring me flowers…”

“That’s all I’d have to do to have this?” He squeezes my ass cheek. “Bring flowers?”

“They’d have to be really,
really
good flowers. Lo can hook you up.”

“Good to know.” He continues to caress my ass, sending tingles of awareness darting through my body. “I want to do it again when I’m stone-cold sober, so I can remember every detail.”

“Get back to me about that in a couple of weeks.”

“Did I like it?”

“You loved it. You said my ass was the tightest, hottest ass, and that every guy in Marfa wanted to be you right then.”

He lets out a sound that’s half growl, half groan. “It’s so,
so
true, and I hate that it’s all a blank to me. I’m going to need to fill in that blank or go crazy wondering what I missed.”

When I feel the press of his cock against my belly, I realize the conversation has turned him on. “You want me to tell you all about it?”

“Mmm, yes, please do.”

“After you begged me to let you, and I agreed—against my better judgment, I might add—you reached for the lube and knocked the lamp off the table. And by the way, if you never take women home with you, why is there lube and a box of extra-large condoms in your bedside table?”

“That’s just where I keep them, but I swear to you, I’ve never had sex in that bed with anyone but you.”

“I believe you. Anyway, you used your fingers and lubed me up, and then yourself, and then… I felt the most intense pressure.”

He takes my hand and wraps it around his cock, moving it up and down in a slow, lazy rhythm. The moisture gathering at the tip provides lubrication, and he gets even harder. “Then what?”

“The head popped in, and I screamed. It hurt like hell.”

“Ahh, darlin’, I’m so sorry.”