Deadline

She offered up no resistance when he turned her and drew her to him. Being held flush against his torso made her weak with longing to be skin-to-skin. One of them, maybe she, made a throaty sound of both hunger and appeasement when their mouths came together in a blatantly carnal kiss. Several times they changed the angle of their heads, but they didn’t break contact until he withdrew so his lips could nibble at hers.

Those sweet pecks tingled and delighted and excited, especially when paired with the prickle of his scruff. His hands moved over her back, their possessiveness tempered by the syllables of longing whispered against her lips.

Bending his head lower, he pushed aside the strap of her tank top to give him access to her collarbone. But even as she sighed with pleasure, she plaintively murmured his name.

“Hmm?”

“We can’t.”

“I know.” But he didn’t stop at her collarbone. He continued down, placing soft kisses on her chest.

“Really,” she said weakly.

“I know.”

Through the thin cotton tank top, his hand cupped her breast and pushed it up to swell above the neckline. He rubbed his rough cheek against it, then turned his face into the plumpness and kissed it open-mouthed. Hard with arousal, he fit himself into the V between her thighs. The sensation was so intense, she gasped.

“Dawson, we can’t. I mean it. We can’t.”

He went perfectly still, then raised his head and looked down at her. His eyes were glazed with passion, but he gave a slow nod, released her, and moved back a step. They stood there, breathing unevenly, staring at each other.

Finally he said, “Afraid the people guarding you will see us?” He gestured toward the window above the sink.

“That, yes, but…” She swallowed. “I wouldn’t even if they weren’t out there. I wouldn’t with the boys in the house. I know it’s old-fashioned, laughably old-fashioned, but I made myself a rule never to…It wouldn’t have happened the other morning, either. I’d have come to my senses before it got that far. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I know it’s not. But I have to think about how impressionable the boys are. Even—”

He stopped her by reaching out to slide her strap back into place, then put both hands on her shoulders. “I understand.”

“That’s very decent of you.”

He gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I’m a rock.”

She smiled. “You agreed that we had to stop.”

His grin faded as he removed his hands from her shoulders. “But not because of the boys.”

“No?”

He shook his head.

“Then why?”

He looked away from her for several seconds. When his darkly ringed eyes came back to hers, he said, “Because I won’t subject you to me.”

* * *

Dawson collected his socks and boots from the living room where he’d left them on the floor near the cursed sofa and took them upstairs to the bathroom designated as the boys’. By the time he had showered and dressed, their beds were empty. Following the sound of their voices, he went downstairs to the kitchen to find the family and Headly gathered around the dining table.

“Look, Dawson, doughnuts,” Grant chirped. In the center of the table was a large white box from which Grant picked out a doughnut frosted with pink icing and covered with sprinkles. He passed it up to him.

Amelia said, “Grant, you should have let Dawson choose which one he wanted.”

Because of Grant’s handling, the icing had smeared and some of the sprinkles had shaken loose, but not for the world would Dawson have refused it. “Just the one I wanted. Thanks, buddy.” He ruffled the boy’s hair as he took a big bite.

“He brought them,” Hunter said, pointing to Headly. “His name’s Mr. Headly.”