Light Her Fire (Private Pleasures 2)

She drew in air. After a few minutes of deep breathing, her pulse slowed and color seeped back into her cheeks, but shadows lingered under her eyes. He brushed her hair away from her face and pressed his lips to her forehead, reassured to find it cooler. “How do you feel?”

“Like I want to go home.” That’s all she said, but her expression filled in the rest. Crawl into bed, and sleep until I forget everything about this god-awful evening.

“First I’m going to get you some water. Stay put. I’ll be back.”

She nodded as if she understood plain English, but on his way back from the bar with her water, he caught her coming out of the ladies’ room. She waited for him, using the extra moment to pull a small container of mints out of her purse and pop one in her mouth. He slipped his arm around her waist and handed her the water, which she politely thanked him for and then took a long, grateful gulp.

“Bluelick, I can’t help notice you have a hard time with the instruction to stay put.”

She grimaced. “I had to wash up, and find an employee to let them know…you know…” She eyed the door to the private party room.

“It’s taken care of. I told the bartender. Come on. Let’s get you home.”

He started to steer her toward the bar, but she hung back. “Can we go out this way?” She pointed to the exit at the end of the hall. “No offense, but I really don’t want to see any of those people again. Ever. I’ll wait here if you want to say good-bye.”

What a fucking fail tonight was—and totally on him. He’d handled everything wrong from the minute he’d helped her down from the truck. He was going to have to raise his game—much higher—if he expected to convince her to move here with him.

“I’m good to go,” he said, and a few steps later, held the door open for her. She walked out, and he followed, promptly wrapping his arm around her waist again. The night air hardly qualified as cool, but she shivered. He shrugged out of his suit coat and wrapped it around her.

“Thank you.” She slipped her arms into the sleeves, which were much too long and immediately made her look like a little girl playing dress-up. “I promise I won’t throw up on it.”

“I don’t care about the damn jacket,” he answered honestly, and thought about adding, “I care about you.” But she was sick, and tired, and now was not a fair time to figure out what it would take to entice her away from her precious hometown. Instead, he unlocked the Yukon and helped her into the passenger seat, not missing her sigh of relief or the way her head immediately found the seat back.

By the time he came around to the driver’s side she had her belt on, face turned his way, snuggled under his jacket. “I’m sorry you had to leave early because of me. And”—she paused and yawned behind her hand—“I’m sorry I picked a fight about your…girlfriends.”

“Bluelick?”

She blinked at him slowly, like a kitten. “Yes?”

He started the Yukon. “I haven’t thought about anyone else since the day I laid eyes on you.” Absolutely true, and she smiled, so he figured he’d found the right thing to say. But as she closed her eyes and burrowed deeper into the seat, he realized the same wouldn’t be true in her case. If she ended up a part of his past, he’d think about her for a long time. She’d leave a scar.

Make her an offer she can’t refuse.

But what would that be? He glanced over at the woman snoozing in the passenger seat. She had feelings for him, he knew that much—she wouldn’t have gotten jealous tonight unless her heart was involved. But were her feelings strong enough to hold her to him? What did she want so deeply she’d sacrifice and compromise to achieve the prize? The answer dawned on him, clear as the headlights from the northbound lanes of I-471. Something he’d known the minute he’d seen her, but let slip off his radar because they’d agreed to keep things casual. Melody Merritt wanted to be married. She wanted a family. Hell, she’d stuck fast to the dream for ten fucking years with Roger, because she’d been so dedicated to the end goal. He could respect that. He had his end goal, too, and tonight, his mentor had handed it to him. Melody ought to get no less. And frankly, going all-in suited him better than trying to feeling her out, or convince her over time. He’d just put his best offer on the table. Make a move you don’t want to make, to a place you don’t want to go, for a man who loves you and wants to spend the rest of his life with you, starting now.

He spent the hours on the drive back putting everything together in his mind. He had tomorrow off, and as far as he was concerned, the sooner he locked this down, the better. Invite her to his place for dinner so he could do this without half the town watching over his shoulder. Dazzle her with a bended knee proposal, a ring to put Roger’s to shame—not that he thought she cared about the size of the rock, but he didn’t intend to suffer by comparison—and then mention the move…

“Oh, gosh.” Melody’s murmur pulled him from his plotting. She blinked, stretched, and stared out at the familiar sight of the town square. “I’ve been asleep for a long time.”

“How are you feeling?” He turned onto her street and pulled up to the curb in front of her house.

“Better, thank you. I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

“Really?” Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “Which part of the evening did you enjoy most? When I insulted your friends, cursed at you, or got sick so you had to leave early?”

“Those guys loved you all the more for giving their shit right back to them. Insults are the only thing they respond to. As for you getting sick and us leaving early, I should have turned the car around the minute you mentioned you weren’t feeling well.”

“Oh.” She tipped her head to the side and stared out the window. “Well, that just leaves the part where I got angry with you for having a past.”

Now would be the time to start laying the groundwork for tomorrow night. “No, you got angry because I’ve done a piss-poor job of demonstrating something very important. In my defense, I thought it was obvious, but apparently I was wrong.”

She turned and faced him, her usually open expression guarded. “What’s obvious?”

“Bluelick, nobody I’ve been with before comes close to you. I could wake up with the scent of you on my skin every morning, fall asleep buried inside you every night, and I’d still never get enough, and if the way I’ve treated you failed to adequately express that fact, then you have every right to be angry…and I have some work to do.”

“I…you…” Pink rushed into her cheeks as she stammered. Finally, she looked up at him, her big blue eyes shining as if he’d showered her with poetry. “What?”