Her hands slide over my body and my fingers curl around the doorframe. “You’re killing me, woman. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
She presses into me, her body aligned to mine. “Don’t. Don’t be a gentleman. I wasn’t saying I want to talk. I just want you to know that you’re not just someone to fill a void tonight. It might seem that way, but—but please don’t be a gentleman.”
I catch her head with my hand. “Do you want to talk or fuck?”
“Can we do both? Is that a problem?”
She’s so damn sweet and adorable. And beautiful. The kind of woman I don’t deserve, but typical of the Savage men, I’m too selfish to care tonight. “Both works damn fine for me.” I kiss her and open the door, turning her toward her house.
She flips on a light, the way she’s flipped me inside out. I don’t fuck and talk. I just fuck and move on because that’s all I have to offer, but I can’t seem to remember that with Candace. I can’t seem to fight the urge to see and know more about her. Shyly, it seems, she catches my hand and leads me inside to a kitchen, a long, rectangular-shaped room sporting a long, shiny, white counter. A counter I consider setting her on top of and fucking her right here, right now. Then we could talk and fuck some more. She shrugs out of her coat and I do the same, both of us hanging them on a coatrack just inside the doorway. I’m back to considering all the ways I could fuck her on the counter when she catches my hand again and drags me forward and into a cozy little living room that fits her perfectly. A typical unnecessary Texas fireplace is the centerpiece of the main wall, framed by navy blue couches and chairs. She leads me to the couch and sits down, setting her purse on the table. The minute I sit, she twists to face me. “I have wine,” she offers, her voice trembling. “I’ll grab it.” She pushes to her feet, intending to walk away.
I’m on my feet, catching her tiny waist before she has the chance. “I don’t want a drink.” My hand slides under her hair, resting on her neck. “I want you.”
“Yeah?” she asks softly.
“Yeah.” I sit and take her with me, rain roughing up the roof, echoing in the hollow of a home that reminds her of loss tonight. This grounds me. This reminds me that her actions tonight are driven by that hollow she wants to fill. The same way I want to replace the noise in my head with her soft moans. I won’t regret that tomorrow, but she may. I slide my hand to her leg. “You were close to your grandmother?”
“Very.”
“And your mother?”
“Very.” Her eyes gloss over. “She was an officer in the Army.” Her voice cracks. “There was an accident.”
Her pain punches me in the chest and I bring her fingers to my lips. “Military is a rough family gig.”
“That’s why you don’t have to worry about me falling for you. I can’t do the military thing. I won’t. In other words, I’m a safe escape.”
This news should deliver relief, and with any other woman, it would do that and more. With any other woman, it would be a ticket to fuck and leave. Instead, I roll her to the cushion, onto her back, and I follow her with something completely different on my mind. “I’m going to change your mind.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I want to know you,” I say, and I can’t even believe how much I mean these words. I don’t do relationships. Life has taught me they don’t work. They punish you. They hurt you. The way my father hurts my mother, but I can’t help myself with this woman.
“Why?” she whispers.
“Because everything about you feels better than anything else.” My hand slides under her shirt and my mouth closes down on her mouth, tongue stroking against her tongue, and damn, she’s sweet, so damn sweet. I deepen the kiss and her fingers twine in my hair, a soft little moan sliding from her mouth to mine.
That’s when the doorbell rings. I pull back and stare down at her, wondering if this is some other guy come to make her feel better. “Expecting someone?”
“No. No, I have no idea who would be here in this rain.” She scoots up to a sitting position and grabs her phone from her purse. “My security system is on my phone.” She punches in a few keystrokes and her eyes go wide. “Oh God. It’s my father. He’s waiting on the porch.”
Her father, who she’s already told me won’t approve of me being here.
We both sit up and she twists around to face me. “I don’t want you to leave,” she says. “So it’s on you now to decide what comes next. Stay. Go. Hide. Meet my father. What’s it going to be, Rick Savage?”