The Taming of the Bachelor (9 page)

“No, but the house would be sorted.”

Her smile never wavered but he saw a glimpse of exhaustion in her eyes and it made him want to protect her. Someone should protect her. “There’s nothing you want for you? Nothing
you
need?”

She moved past him, squeezing in to turn the water on in the sink, covering the dishes. “I don’t know...I don’t let myself go there.”

He didn’t move, so they were both at the sink, practically standing hip to hip. “Why not?”

She grabbed a scrubbing pad and attacked the dishes. “It’s better not to question. Better to stay focused.”

His brow furrowed as he watched her scour the dishes as if they were baking pans instead of simple dessert plates. “That makes you happy?”

Her slim shoulders twisted and her blonde head dipped, making it difficult to see her face. “It keeps me...focused.”

“Focused?”

“You know....to keep from losing...hope.” Her hands stilled, and for a moment the only sound was that of the running water, and then she drew a quick breath and turned the water off. “Or is it faith?” she added, frowning and reaching for a dishtowel to dry her hands. Her frown disappeared as she flashed a rueful smile. “To be honest, I’m not sure anymore.”

Dillon felt out of his depth here. He hadn’t grown up attending church regularly. His mom was Catholic, and she’d raised her oldest boys Catholic, but stopped going to church regularly when Dillon was in kindergarten. “Your faith was important to you?”

“It was once everything.”

“What happened to it?”

She draped the yellow striped towel on a bar, smoothing it. “Lewis died and I’ve just felt very....alone. Hard to see God in all the struggles.”

He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to say anything.

Paige managed another small, wry smile. “So now I don’t ask for too much, or want too much. I count my blessings and stay busy, appreciating what I have, rather than thinking about what I don’t have.”

“This is why I’m such a fan,” he said quietly as he reached for her, his arm circling her, drawing her towards him. “You are strong and funny and sweet—”

“Stop there before you call me nice. Because I’m really not all that sweet, or nice.”

He smiled crookedly then carefully brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. Her skin felt so warm and soft. His fingers curled in. He stroked her cheekbone again.

Her lips parted and he felt the whoosh of air leaving her mouth as a caress against his neck, down his chest. She was so beautiful. Need throbbed in him, warring with common sense.

He should go. He needed to go. They were too alone here.

Far too much temptation.

“Should go,” he said, dropping his head, covering her lips with his.

It was a goodbye kiss. That’s really all it was. Goodbye, and closure. The end of a sentence...a chapter. He was closing this chapter, the one where Marietta was home, and Paige owned a piece of his heart. But now he was leaving—Montana, his family, the ranch, her—leaving all of it to start a new chapter.

The kiss was equal parts sweet and bittersweet, and he drew the kiss out, lingering over the sweet fullness of her lips, and the stunning heat of her mouth.

Her lips were softly parted when he lifted his head, her eyes wide, dark, bewildered.

“That was um...” She swallowed, blinked, trying to pull herself together. “Not bad.”

The corner of his mouth tugged. He brushed his knuckles across her lovely flushed cheek. He was hard and hungry but there was no way in the world he’d hurt her. Not when she’d been hurt so badly by others before him. “As long as you’re not disappointed.”

“Don’t think I’m disappointed...well, actually, I’m not sure.”

“No?”

“You might need to do that one more time. Just to know for certain.”

Amused, he drew her closer, her hips against his, his arms locking in the small of her back. “Sounds as if I didn’t get the job done right.”

She tipped her head back to better see him. “No, no. I wouldn’t say that. It’s probably just me. I’m out of practice.”

There were so many secrets in her eyes, secrets and shadows that made her expression mysterious, and yet vulnerable. She was both strong and soft, tough and tender, and maybe that’s what drew him to her—the fact that she was such a contradiction. How could you not admire her?

His head dipped and he kissed her again, drowning out the voices in his head that said he shouldn’t be doing this, that he shouldn’t care. He couldn’t get involved. He wasn’t good for her. He’d never be good for her, or her kids. They needed a father. He didn’t want to be a father. So simple. All of this was so simple.

Except when his mouth was on hers and his lips were parting hers, tasting her, and nothing felt more right, or natural, than her, in his arms.

T
he kiss was hot, so hot, that Paige’s head spun. She wrapped her arms around Dillon’s neck, her fingers curling into his crisp black hair.

He backed her up against the kitchen wall, his hands on either side of her head, his chest pressed to hers, her body on fire. He felt good, so good, and it was impossible to think about anything but him, and his chest and hips, and his mouth taking hers, claiming her.

The desire that had been simmering between them all night had ignited and blazed now between them.

Paige could feel Dillon’s hunger. He wasn’t trying to hide it. She was glad, too, because she wanted to feel it. The hour of talking and pretending that they weren’t attracted to each other had just made the attraction stronger, bigger. Suppressing it had failed. Suppressing it had wound her up, stretching her nerves, turning her on.

She wasn’t a little girl, wasn’t a virgin. She wanted to feel like a woman.

He lifted his head, breathing heavily. “What are we doing?”

She reached up to touch his face, her fingers rubbing at the bristles on his jaw. “Saying hello, and then goodbye.”

“It’s not easy saying goodbye to you.”

“So let’s not say goodbye yet.” She loved the feel of his bristles and the dusky glow in his cheeks. He was gorgeous and fierce and passionate, and for now, hers. “Come home with me.”

“Drive you home?”

“Yes.” Her eyes met his and held. “And then come in with me. I want you. I want to be with you. But not like this, not here.”

“Making love to you will just make it harder when I go.”

“But at least I would have the night with you.”

“You’ll regret it tomorrow.”

She appreciated how he was determined to be rational, practical, and she liked him all the more for it. “Why would I?”

His mouth opened, then closed. Frowning, he reached up and tugged on a strand of her hair. “It just seems wrong to make love to you and then leave.”

“Are you telling me you’ve never had a one night stand?”

He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “You know I have.”

“So what’s the big deal?” Standing on tiptoe she kissed him gently, and then shuddered as he caught her hips in his hands, and brought her hard against him, letting her feel him. He was aroused and she liked it. He felt amazing against her, and she loved that he wanted her. “I won’t regret it,” she insisted, breasts aching, belly clenching. “I’ll be glad I had one night with you. Glad you’ll be my first since Lewis.”

“You’re killing me,” he answered huskily, his hands rising, sweeping up her waist, lightly stroking the outside of her breasts and then up to her collarbones. “I can’t hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me. I promise.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” She smiled into his eyes to reassure him even as her heart pounded wildly fast. Truthfully, she didn’t know how she’d feel later...after he left...but the desire was so strong, and her feelings were so intense, she couldn’t bear for things to end now. She wanted him. Wanted to be taken by him and loved by him. And she knew he could make her feel wonderful. He could make her feel alive. It’d been so long since she felt fully alive. “So don’t treat me like a little girl. Let me think for myself, make decisions for myself. Please?”

“You are definitely all woman,” he murmured, head dropping to kiss her, his mouth parting hers, his tongue teasing her lips then stroking her mouth, in and out, making her whimper and arch against him.

He kissed her until she was boneless, breathless, her head spinning and she had to lean against him for support.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he said, lifting his head and kissing the corner of her mouth and then her cheek.

She shuddered with pleasure as his beard rasped against her heated skin. “That makes two of us.”

“So what do we do?”

“Go to my house.” There was no hesitation on her part. “The kids will be asleep. Nobody will bother us.”

“I think we’ve lost our minds.”

“Maybe, but as long as you’ve got a condom, we should be okay.”

I
t was quiet in the truck, neither speaking, just the windshield wipers sweeping back and forth, knocking away snow. It’d stopped snowing while they were in the kitchen and now they drove the four blocks to her house on Bramble in silence, and yet the silence felt warm and dense, electric with all the things not being said.

That kiss—if it could be called a kiss when it was so much more than that—had been beyond explosive. The chemistry was hot, so intense.

Paige’s heart still hammered, her pulse jumping in her veins even as her body hummed in a way it hadn’t hummed in years.

She felt tingly and sensitive and alive, fiercely alive, so aware that each beat of her heart made her breath catch and her blood surge.

She wanted more. She couldn’t want more. She wanted another kiss, another touch, another taste.

Yes, he was going, but he wasn’t gone yet. And they didn’t have to lose total control, they didn’t have to take it all the way....but a little more, a little further, surely it wouldn’t hurt?

She darted a swift side glance at his profile, which looked hard, his jaw set, his expression almost grim. What was he thinking? Was he okay with this? Surely he understood that this was special to her...that it had been years and years since she’d been kissed...touched...

Surely he was okay with her wanting him? Wanting pleasure?

“Here,” she said, as he approached her house. “It’s the green one.”

He slowed before her house, tires crunching ice as he parked, then turned the engine off. “I’ve got your door,” he said.

She waited while he came round to open her door. “Thank you,” she murmured as he gave her a hand out.

Silently they headed up her front walk and then climbed the eight steps to her small covered porch. The porch’s overhead light glowed a dim yellow. She put her key in the lock and turned and pushed the door open an inch or so before glancing over her shoulder at him. “You okay?” she asked softly, voice unsteady.

He gazed down at her, his eyes dark and mysterious on the shadowed porch. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

“You’ve a sitter?”

“Just need to pay her and let her go.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looking at her, his gaze intently examining her face and then slowly, his head inclined. It wasn’t much of a nod, but it was enough. Paige’s pulse raced, her insides flipping, and she stepped into the house her skin prickling, body tingling, exquisitely aware of Dillon following behind.