Stripped Down (15 page)

She braced against the driver’s seat as Dalton whipped the wheel to the right and slid the car to a stop alongside the curb.

“Aggressive
how,
Cass?” He stared straight ahead, the knot of muscle at the back of his jaw flexing as he ground his teeth.

Settling her hands in her lap, she fought to control her voice. “It’s not important. I handled it.”

Even in the unearthly streetlight, she could see him pale. “Did he hurt you?”

“Hurt me?”

“Did he
hurt
you?” He looked at her then, his eyes nearly luminescent.

“No. No, he didn’t assault me, Dalton.” She rested a hand on his rock-hard jaw and searched his face, this man who had nominated himself as her knight errant. “He just... He scared me, Dalton.”

Gently picking up her hands, he turned them over in his own. “He had no right to touch you without your permission. And you don’t ever have to face him alone again.”

“Who said chivalry is dead?” she whispered, the words loud in the silence of the car.

“It might make me old-school, but I don’t think it should be.” He shifted the car back into gear and pulled away from the curb.

T
HEY PULLED UP
in front of a small but neat clapboard house, its color indiscernible in the dark. Gray, maybe? Or a light blue with darker trim? Regardless, the yard was neat, the landscaping well tended and the detached, single-car garage was in equally respectable shape.

Dalton parked in the drive and pulled her into a short, brutal kiss.

She gasped into his mouth, their breath comingling as they seemed to fight toward what they both wanted: each other. Fully. Completely. Without physical barriers or pitfalls. Just the two of them. Together. Tonight.

Pulling back, she searched his face for some reassurance. Yes, all the signals he’d sent said that he wanted more from her than just tonight. But how much more? She’d already revealed more than one weakness to him and risked her career. What was
he
willing to risk?

In her experience men were never honest about who they were and what they wanted. Every single man she’d been involved with in any way, from her contentious relationship with her father to her last romantic relationship, expected her to give up every shred of who she was, while they kept themselves at a safe distance and protected their interests. While she fell under that header for them, all was well and good. The moment their interest waned, she was on her own again. She didn’t
want
Dalton to follow that pattern. Something in her said that if anyone could be different, it was him. But to give him more? Would he...
could
he even like the parts of herself she kept hidden?

He seemed to interpret her needs, kissing her gently, passion ready to flash at any moment, but he kept it banked. This kiss was different. This kiss made promises far more personal than all the others combined. He loved her with his mouth and hands, caressing her face, sucking on her bottom lip, cupping one breast and stroking her nipple through the silk of her dress.

He broke the kiss but didn’t move away, his lips grazing hers when he spoke. “I want you, Cass.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

He considered her for a moment. “But?”

It disturbed her he could tell so easily that something was bothering her. “I’m worried this is happening too fast.”

“I was, too. Until tonight.”

Her brows drew together. “What changed?”

“You stood up in front of your coworkers and called me your lover. And I realized no one else matters. I want you. I think you want me, too. We don’t owe anyone an apology for following this path.”

“Please, don’t hurt me.” The words were out before she could stop them.

“I’ll never hurt you, baby.”

An electric jolt of awareness nearly made her hair stand on end. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I don’t.” He closed the distance and took her mouth in a kiss so tender she melted into his embrace.

* * *

E
RIC LED
C
ASS
into his small house by the hand and wondered, for the first time ever, what a woman thought as she entered. The house needed to be renovated. Badly. But it was homey, with its little nooks and crannies and cupboards built in. The three rooms and two bathrooms were on the small side, but they served their purposes well.

“I love it,” Cass breathed, pulling free of him to go examine his mother’s beloved china in the built-in cupboard. She placed her fingertip against the wood and traced the grain before opening the door. “May I?”

“Sure.”

She carefully removed a teacup. The gentle way she handled the china said she knew it was a cared-for family heirloom and she would respect that.

Examining the old dishes seemed to make her happy, and that made Eric glad he hadn’t gotten rid of the china when he’d purged his parents’ belongings with some pretty extreme prejudice. Living alone, he hadn’t seen the need to keep most of their stuff save for a few mementos. But that china had been his mother’s pride, handed down from her great-grandmother, and the thought of getting rid of it had felt like severing the final tie with his mom. He just couldn’t.

Blake had been pretty good about helping clean things out the first summer he’d been home from college.

College.
Eric’s mind seized on the reminder that he had to cover yet another semester’s costs. Coming up with the funds was going to financially destroy him if this resort deal didn’t go through. Now that the engineering firm’s costs were going to come in over budget, the financing would be even more precarious. Wednesday morning weighed on him as he absently watched Cass admire a painting his grandmother had done.
This has to work.
He jolted, unsure what he’d been referring to—the deal or the woman.

Both,
his conscience whispered.

He stepped toward Cass, fighting to regain control of his runaway thoughts. But it was like trying to harness shadows. He stopped short and silently watched as Cass moved on from the dishes to first one antique piece then another, appreciating the very things his mother had held so dear. Long, capable fingers skimmed timeworn surfaces with such tenderness he wanted to scoop her up and simply hold her in his arms.

So he did.

Her body molded to his as if they’d been cast as a matching pair.
Stop thinking this way, dumbass,
he mentally chastised. It would only lead to problems if this didn’t...what? What was he looking for from her? Definitely something more than a weekend fling or short, fiery love affair.

She was exactly the kind of woman who could inspire him to crave constancy, the kind of woman he could see himself settling down with someday. He wanted to find out where this thing between them would go, how far they could take it, and he’d never been interested in the same with anyone else. He wanted Cass in his bed, in his house, in his life far more permanently than just a weekend love affair. She deserved better than that. Which meant she also deserved the truth.

She stepped out of her heels and toed them against the wall. “May I ask exactly what happened to your parents? I know you lost them several years ago.” Moving to the mantel, she traced the edge of a framed picture of him and his little brother fishing at a lake they used to take camping trips to every summer.

His stomach knotted so fast he nearly doubled over with pain. Normally he handled the devastating subject by deflecting. He’d change the topic or talk about the Mariners’ miserable season or, hell, discuss the local forecast. But she’d looked at him with such open compassion that he wanted to tell her about the gaping wound their loss had left in his life.

The emotional dam that held so much at bay failed, and the words rushed out. “They were killed fourteen ago when a logging truck’s brakes failed coming down Snoqualmie Pass. The driver...he...” Eric swallowed hard and sank to the sofa, the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. He didn’t talk about this. Ever. Yet here he was, answering her without evasion.

A warm hand closed over the back of his neck. “That’s more than enough.”

He nodded, unable to speak. At that moment, he would have given anything to have his parents alive again, would have loved to introduce them to this woman who, once again, understood exactly what to say in the face of emotional devastation.

“You really did raise your little brother. I admire that.”

Eric coughed and cleared his throat, dropping his hands to stare at the floor. Bare feet with toenails painted a deep blue came into focus, and he found himself relaxing. “He was nine years old.”

“You helped shape him into the man he’s going to be. Don’t discount that. It couldn’t have been easy.” She stroked his hand.

He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her waist. Resting his head against her breasts, he relaxed as her deft fingers massaged his scalp. His eyes drifted closed and his breathing slowed, and suddenly it was just okay. Not okay that his parents had died, but okay that he’d talked to her, okay that he’d been less than stalwart about it. Just okay. It was the greatest gift she could have given him, and he didn’t know how to say thank you. Instead, he looked up to find her dark blue eyes staring back with somber compassion.

He ran a hand up and down her spine. “How about that movie?”

“Sure.” Bending so their faces were level, she kissed him incredibly gently. “But I really want out of this dress.”

His breath caught.

She laughed. “If you have a T-shirt and boxers I could borrow, I’d be really grateful.”

“They’ll swallow you whole, but yeah. Let me grab them.” He stood and was moved when she slipped her arms around his waist. “What’s this?”

“I’ve heard it called a hug,” she murmured into his chest.

“Smart-ass,” he said into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her tight. He was struck again by how right she felt here, not only here in his arms but here in his house and, if he was honest, in his life. It was a bit of a daunting realization, but he wasn’t surprised. Not after watching her with Darcy, amazed by how she had a sense for just what to say and when. More, that she meant it. Everything about her was almost too good to be true. “When is the other shoe going to drop?”

She tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “Other shoe?”

“You know. When are you going to tell me you’re actually married, or that you’re wanted by the FBI because you hacked into KFC and stole the Colonel’s secret recipe for the Russians, or that you’ve been entered into the witness protection program because you single-handedly brought down the Italian mafia, or that you’re actually the droid I’ve been looking for?”

She was laughing at that point. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Cupping her neck, he traced his thumbs back and forth along her pulse. “You’re too good to be true, Cass. I keep waiting for you to screw up, but you handle everything that’s thrown at you with this unerring grace and infallible strength. You’re pretty amazing.”

Her laughter faded until they were staring at each other in a room whose only sounds were those of an old house—the click of the furnace, the whoosh of air through the central heating system, the drip of a faucet somewhere nearby, the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

“I’m just me, Dalton.”

He fought not to wince. In this moment, a moment that meant something larger than he could wrap his mind and heart around, he didn’t want her calling him by his middle name.

He wanted to hear her call him Eric. He was going to tell her—tonight.

He was all-in.

12

C
ASS HAD NO IDEA
what movie Dalton put in and would bet good money he didn’t know, either. Before the previews were over, they were lost to each other. Tender but passionate, he laid her down on the beige sofa and began to kiss his way down her neck. He peeled her dress off as he went. The sofa’s pilled, coarse fabric scraped at her back, but she didn’t care. It was the moment, this moment, the reality of his hands on her body and the feel of his silken lips roaming bare skin that mattered. She touched as much as she was touched, tasted as much as she was tasted. Cravings for Dalton had morphed into a need so fierce she was helpless to deny it. That need drove her, made her clumsy and rushed, pushing Dalton’s own passions higher and hotter until he was devouring her and finally, finally she had the fervor and near madness she hungered for.

They slipped to the floor with a muffled thump when he tried to roll her over on the sofa. His head cracked against the hardwood floor with its own thump, she on top of him. But that didn’t slow him down. His hands roved over her, his thumbs thrummed her nipples through her bra and her sex ached as she mindlessly ground against the ridge of his erection through his jeans. She closed her hands over his on her breasts and rode him harder, the friction from the satin and denim against her clit, the hard line of his cock and her desire culminating in an explosive orgasm that had her crying out his name and squeezing her hands over his.

“Cass.” Dalton’s sharp voice cut through the haze of her lust and forced her to focus on him. Muscles strained in his neck, his face was flushed and he looked as if he was trying desperately not to...

“Oh. Sorry.” She started to move off his lap, but he refused to let go of her breasts.

“Just sit still for a second so I don’t embarrass myself.” He closed his eyes and breathed, hands gradually relaxing their hold. When he finally looked at her, the corners of his eyes wrinkled with a sheepish grin. “I haven’t nearly lost control like that since I was a teenager.”

“I hear age does that to a man.”

“Age?” He flipped her over, cradling her head so it wouldn’t hit the floor. “I’ll show you age.”

She arched a brow. “Surely not before you admire the lingerie.”

“Lingerie.” He gazed down and traced a finger across the swell of one breast where black lace and pale skin met. “I want to see you in this, the thong and the heels. Nothing else.”

Pushing herself up on her elbows, she pressed her lips to his in what was meant to be a quick kiss but evolved into a long, drawn-out affair that left her squirming and him panting and a repeat performance on the horizon.