Better Deeds Than Words (Words#2) (38 page)

She reached across the table, taking an envelope from a small box and resting it on the table in front of me.

“What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

She nibbled at her sandwich, watching me as I tore it open and pulled out a lovely cream-colored card. A wedding invitation. Penny was inviting me to her wedding.

I covered my mouth with my hand, suddenly overcome with emotion. I hadn’t had a chance to prepare myself for this gesture. But really, hadn’t I been thinking about this for weeks, hoping against hope that I could go with Daniel to Penny and Brad’s wedding?

“Oh, no, don’t cry, love,” Penny said, reaching across the table to pat my arm.

“I can’t help it,” I said, sniffing and trying to avoid ugly-cry territory. “I’m so happy you asked me.”

“I’m so glad. I thought you’d be annoyed with me for hijacking your holidays. I know you’re going over to visit family, but if you could get away for a couple of days, we’d love to have you.” She squeezed my hand and smiled. “I wanted to ask you early enough so you can try to plan around it, if you’re able to join us, that is. And I know Daniel would be over the moon to have you there with him.”

“No, this is wonderful.” I reached for a tissue and blew my nose. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I dabbed at my eyes. “Good grief, I’m so sorry about this. Hormones. I’ve been an emotional wreck all week.”

Penny opened her mouth to answer, but then my phone rang, making us both jump. I looked at the display. “It’s him.” She smiled knowingly and continued eating her sandwich.

“Daniel! I’m so happy to hear from you. I was worried,” I said.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I just got your messages. I woke up this morning with the most outrageous hangover, courtesy of Brad and Penny. I took some Advil, drank a bucket of water, and went back to bed.”

“You sound groggy. Are you feeling better?” I asked him.

Penny quickly finished her sandwich and got up to put her plate in the sink. She was watching me, a bemused expression on her face.

“Much better,” he said, “but I need some caffeine in the worst way. I hope to God Penny has a pot of tea or coffee made.”

And that’s when I heard footsteps. In the house. Coming down the stairs. Penny’s eyes darted to the ceiling.

“Daniel? Where are you?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m at Penny and Brad’s,” he said. “I hadn’t intended to stay over, but I came by to help Brad paint, and by the end of the night I was in no shape to—”

He didn’t finish his sentence because there he was in the kitchen doorway, staring at me as I gaped back at him, my phone pressed unnecessarily to my ear.

Chapter 24

Golden Slumber

We may, each wreathed in the other’s arms,
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber…
(
Titus Andronicus
, Act II, Scene 3)

“A
UBREY
! W
HAT
T
HE
H
ELL
are you doing here?” Daniel said into his phone.

“I think you can hang up now, love,” Penny suggested.

He looked at her like he had no idea who she was or where she’d come from. He was speechless. Penny snapped into action.

“Well, I have a shite load of shopping to do, so I’ll let you two get on with it, shall I?”

She dashed around the kitchen, grabbing her purse, keys, and jacket. “It was nice seeing you, Aubrey. Sorry to dash out like this, but something tells me you won’t miss me
too
much.” She hugged me and gave Daniel a quick kiss on the cheek. “Make yourselves at home. I’ve got my phone, and I’ll be gone for
ages!”

Daniel finally lowered his arm—phone still in hand—as Penny breezed down the hall and out the front door. He was almost moving in slow motion.

“What’s going on?” he said.

He was wearing a pair of rather large PJ bottoms and a wrinkled white T-shirt. His hair stuck out in all directions, and he sported a healthy few days’ worth of stubble. His eyes were red and bleary.

In short, he was a befuddled hot mess.

I tossed my phone on the table and crossed the kitchen in three strides, launching myself into his arms with such force that his back hit the fridge. I wrapped myself around him, and he buried his face in my hair.

“I thought I was dreaming,” he murmured. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Believe me, you’re awake.” I held onto him tightly. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much. This has been the longest week of my life,” I whispered into his neck.

He breathed deeply, as if I was the oxygen he needed to fill his lungs. When I finally pulled back to look up at him, he took my face in his hands, his eyes burning. He rubbed the end of my nose with his, then kissed my forehead before gently tracing my lower lip with his thumb. I hummed, and he smiled broadly, realizing that we were alone in the safety of Penny and Brad’s home.

“I’d dearly love to plant a wet one on you, but I really need to brush my teeth.”

I laughed. “In that case,
please
tell me you have a toothbrush here.”

“I’ll fucking find one,” he said, chuckling and guiding me out of the kitchen. He led me up the narrow staircase onto the landing and gestured to the room at the end of the hall. “Why don’t you go in the spare room and wait for me? I’ll be there in two minutes. Take this?”

I took his phone, smiling and hugging my arms around myself as he disappeared into the washroom. The guest bedroom was dimly lit and smelled vaguely of fresh paint.

The room was sparsely furnished. On one wall, there was a dresser with a portable CD player and a pile of CDs on top. Daniel’s wallet and keys were on the small bedside table, and his clothes were neatly folded on the end of the bed, which he’d already made. Clearly, he was from another planet.

I reached under the blinds to push open the window, then put his phone on the side table and perused the CDs, squinting to make out the names of the bands. Metallica, AC/DC, Mötley Crüe, Guns N’ Roses—this had to be Brad’s collection. There were a couple of homemade compilation CDs in the pile as well. I flipped one over. “
Jeremy is an Emo Fuck”
was handwritten on the back insert.

I scanned the list of artists. All mellow. Perfect. I popped it into the CD player and stood against the dresser as the first song started, a lovely acoustic guitar-backed vocal. Jeremy and I obviously had similar taste in music. Did that mean I was an emo fuck too?

I sat on the corner of the bed to wait for Daniel, jiggling my legs and smiling. How amazing of Penny to orchestrate this meeting between Daniel and me. There was no doubt in my mind that our lunch date was a way for her to get me here. She knew how much we were pining for each other, but she also probably knew that neither one of us would have proposed a meeting at this point.

I finally heard the bathroom door open, and then Daniel was standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He glanced over at the CD player. “Good choice,” he said.

“It was either this or Ozzy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Ooh, tough call.”

“I know. I had to do eeny meeny miney moe. So, all better?” I asked, gesturing to his mouth.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

He summoned me with a playful wiggle of his index finger. As I took the few steps from the bed to the door, I raised an eyebrow and bit my lip. In return, I was rewarded with what had to be the best one-dimpled smile to date.

“Hey,” I whispered, leaning into him and gazing up at his beautiful blue eyes with undisguised longing.

He glanced from my eyes to my mouth and then back again, caressing my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Hey.”

I don’t know what I expected. A small tender kiss perhaps, followed by another, and then his lips would gradually part and his tongue, tentative at first, would meet mine—this is what I’d become accustomed to, and the music was soft, gentle, soothing—but that was
not
what happened. As soon as our lips touched, he claimed my mouth—my whole body—kissing me with unrestrained passion.

One of his hands moved down my back, pulling me toward him and crushing my chest into his, while the other roamed shamelessly over my ass as he drew my hips forward. His moans and minty kisses made my head spin. Daniel pressed his lips to the sensitive hollow between my collarbones and then trailed back up to my throat along the line of my jaw to my earlobe, where he dropped a final soft kiss. “There’s a bed right behind you. How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t want to talk about
how
I feel. I just want to
feel
.”

“Good answer,” he breathed.

And then he lifted my leg, wrapping it around his hip and scooping me up so that I was forced to circle his waist to avoid falling. He pushed the door closed with his foot and lowered me onto the bed. I scrambled up toward the pillows, frantically tugging him with me.

Then we were kissing and rolling, all legs and arms, tongues and hips. I needed to touch him everywhere. I tugged at his T-shirt in frustration, and he quickly yanked it over his head and tossed it carelessly behind him before pressing his lips to mine again.

I ran my fingers and nails all over his back, making him shiver. His half purr, half growl was just what I wanted to hear. When his hand moved to unfasten my shirt, I froze, my chest rising and falling rapidly as he slowly released the top two buttons. His breathing was heavy, but his fingers moved gently, methodically, the frenzied clutching and grabbing suddenly replaced by a fervent but controlled passion.

“Should I stop?” he whispered.

“No, no, don’t stop,” I begged.

“Another good answer,” he said.

As the last button slid free, he looked down at me with smoldering eyes and gently opened my shirt. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks that I hadn’t worn a sports bra today. The one I was wearing wasn’t exactly sexy, not black or lacy, but it was sweet—white with lemon yellow polka dots.

“I love polka dots,” he said softly, smiling and resting his hand lightly on my ribcage before giving me another torturously slow kiss. I teased back, flicking his lip with the tip of my tongue, loving the way his breath tickled my skin and his hips pressed into me.

“Give me your tongue,” he whispered against my parted lips.

He gently sucked it into his mouth with a soft moan. I may or may not have blacked out for a few seconds, because how the hell was I supposed to remain in my right mind when he was being so sexy? And now that Dallas Green was singing in the background, I was surely doomed.

His hand began to move upward, and I slid my fingers through his hair, guiding his mouth down to my neck where he alternated between sucking and nipping. At last, after following the seam of my bra with his finger for what seemed like a lifetime, he finally moved his hand up to trace the outline of my breast through the thin fabric. I shuddered with anticipation, and when he slipped his hand into the cup of my bra, running his fingertips lightly over my nipple, I gasped with relief.

For weeks I’d craved the feel of his hands on my skin, starved for his touch. And now here he was, peeling back the fabric of my bra and gazing down at me reverently. I struggled to meet his eyes, pushing back any feelings of self-consciousness that might ruin the moment.

To say I saw stars would be clichéd. But when he whispered my name and lowered his lips to softly suck on my nipples, my back arched off the bed so violently I thought I might actually levitate.

I wanted him now. I wanted everything, and he seemed intent on giving me what I needed, moaning and repeating my name as he kissed me. I clawed at his back, pulling his hips against me with a frantic need. Where was our good sense, our restraint? Gone. All gone. We both had checked our brains at the guest room door.

I rolled onto my side, and throwing caution to the wind completely, I moved my hand down between our bodies. I touched him slowly but firmly. Of the two of us, I don’t know who gasped louder. All I could think about was how badly I’d wanted to do this for weeks and how desperately I wanted him this very minute. As for Daniel, he had his face buried in my hair, breathing hotly in my ear.

“Oh, fuck. Do that again,” he urged me.

I repeated the movement, feeling powerful, needed, desired.

“Again?” I whispered.

“Fuck, yes.”

He placed his hand on mine, encouraging me to use my whole hand as he moved rhythmically against me, pressing his chest to mine. Skin to skin. Divine.

We kissed each other like sloppy, crazy teenagers, our movements mindless and out of control, breathing raw and husky as we pushed and pulled, reached and grasped, sighed and moaned. I rubbed myself against his leg, aware of how ridiculously adolescent I must have seemed, but I couldn’t help myself. Friction. I just needed friction. His fingertips slid purposefully down my ribcage toward the waistband of my yoga pants.