Daring Her Love (6 page)

“I figured you’d be tired after our late night. I expected to be alone for the sunrise.” He took another sip of his coffee and gazed out over the mountain.

“You came out specifically to watch the sunrise?”

He nodded. “I always do when I’m here. There’s nothing more beautiful than a Colorado sunrise.” He brushed her hair from her shoulder. “Except, it appears I was wrong. You’re far more beautiful than the sunrise.”

She laughed. “There you go again, showing me all your mouthy talents.”

“You haven’t even begun to see how talented my mouth can be.” He rubbed his scruffy chin. “But that wasn’t a line, even though it sounded like one. I’m sorry if I came across too strong, or managed to turn you off in some way, but I’m not going to deny how attracted to you I am.”

She felt her cheeks heat up and shifted her eyes away. He turned her chin, so she had no choice but to look at him.

“Are you embarrassed by my honesty or turned off by it?” His gaze was serious, his words sincere, and she felt her heart warming again.

“Do you always say what you’re thinking?”

“Yes. My filter is set rather low.” He smiled and handed her his mug again, which she gladly took. She needed caffeine for this conversation. “Do you always avoid answering questions that make you uncomfortable?”

“Do you like to make me uncomfortable?” She couldn’t stop herself from playing along. He was different from any man she’d ever met, and as much as his directness repeatedly caught her off guard, she was completely drawn to it, to him.

“That’s a loaded question.” He turned in his chair, bringing his leg between hers. His hand came to rest on her knee, but his heated gaze never wavered. “I might be purposely trying to push your buttons, but it’s only because I find you incredibly attractive and interesting.” He leaned in close, sucking all the air from her lungs. “Were you able to forget our kiss?”

Her lips tingled with the reminder.

“Tell me something, Kat. Do you remember every man’s kisses like you remember mine?”

Hell no.

“Do you still feel my lips on yours? The press of our mouths, the slicking of my tongue over yours? Do you still taste me the way I still taste you?” His thumb stroked slow circles on her knee, making it hard for her to think. “Last night when you were in bed, did you close your eyes and remember the feel of me filling you up the way I remembered the tight hold your body had on me?”

He paused, and she didn’t know if it was for effect or because he saw that she was no longer breathing. Either way, she was thankful, because her body was so tightly wound that he nearly had her coming apart with nothing more than words—and that damn thumb of his, which was sending pinpricks of desire racing up her thigh.

He lifted his hand from her leg, leaving a wave of cold air behind, and he cupped her cheek, brushing that talented thumb over her lower lip. She could barely breathe as he leaned in even closer.

Kiss me.

“All night I thought about what it would be like to wake up with you in my arms. To kiss you good morning and feel your body soft and warm against mine. I want to kiss you, Kat. One kiss.”

She didn’t think before the whisper left her lips. “Kiss me.”

He pressed his lips to hers lightly, warm and sweet. Her insides quivered at the tenderness of this unobtrusive kiss, the delicious feel of his mouth touching hers. When he pulled away without deepening the kiss, she had a burning desire for more, and that’s when her brain began kicking into gear again. She shook her head, trying to ward off the dreamy intimacy he’d suffused her with. What was she doing?

“Last night was supposed to be our last kiss,” she reminded him.

He smiled. “Did you want it to be?”

She pushed to her feet, feeling agitated and annoyed at the way her body thrummed from his touch. She was frustratingly turned on.
No
, she didn’t want that to be their last kiss, but she didn’t want a weekend fling, either. He was watching her as she paced the patio, and that annoyed her even more, because she knew he sensed her frustration and was just letting her pace it off. That should piss her off, but it was another goddamn turn-on, the way he was so in tune with everything about her. She’d never met a man who looked that closely into her feelings or her actions.

“You’re messing with my head,” she finally admitted.

He set the coffee mug on the ground beside his chair and stood, taking her gently into his arms. “Then tell me not to, Kat. Tell me to leave you alone once and for all.” His words were rough, challenging, belying the way he embraced her. His grip on her hips tightened. She loved his strength and had thought all night about how hard he’d thrust into her, reliving the intensity of their sex for hours upon hours.

He rocked his hips against hers, and her breath left her lungs in a rush.

“You’re all about hookups,” she said, pushing at his chest, and wanting to keep him close at the same time. “It’s too easy to get swept up in you,” she finally managed.

“How do you know I’m about hookups?” His gaze was unyielding.

“You picked me up in the airport bar,” she reminded him.

“One could say you picked me up.” He smiled, but it didn’t dampen the heat in his eyes.

She fisted her hands in his shirt, unsure if she was holding him close or keeping him at bay. “You followed me to the bathroom.”

“You wanted me to.”

“I did not.
You
kissed
me
!”

“That’s not how I remember it. I remember asking you to send me away, the same way I just did, and you grabbed my cock.”

Oh shit.
He was right.

“The truth is, I
have
always enjoyed fast women. You read me right, darlin’. No doubt about that.”

Aha! See!

“But that’s not why I approached you in the bar. You looked familiar, not fast. Yes, you were sexy and gorgeous with a killer body and eyes that make my cock take notice, but you felt familiar. You felt different, right, in a way other women don’t. And when I tasted you…”

Her knees weakened as his lips brushed against hers.

“There was no going back. There is no going back. You feel it too, Kat. I know you do.”

“I…”
Do not say it. Do not tell him you want him.
“I don’t want to be a hookup.”

His eyes narrowed, and his voice filled with desire. “What do you want to be?”

How the hell should I know?
A girlfriend? A date? A lover? She was a woman who conquered her fears and took life by the horns, but she couldn’t come up with an answer to save her life. All she knew was that she wanted to be
something
to him, which was probably a very bad idea.

“When you’re ready to tell me what you want, let me know.” He released her, leaving her weak and confused as he picked up the coffee cup and headed for the door. He reached for the handle, and she swallowed to keep her heart from climbing out of her throat.

“I want what you can never be,” she finally managed.

He stopped with his hand midreach. His chin dropped, as if in defeat. He turned slowly, and the determination in his eyes was unmistakable. She swallowed hard at her misinterpretation of his actions as he closed the distance between them.

“How can you possibly know what I can and cannot be?” His tone was so dark and serious that it momentarily numbed her.

“You said you were all about fast women.”

“No. I said I have always
enjoyed
fast women.”

“What is it with you and
words
?” She crossed her arms, a barrier between his heat and her heart.

“Words are clear. If you use them well, they leave no room for misinterpretation.” His gaze softened. “I have always
enjoyed
fast women. Past tense. That’s a true fact. But for whatever reason, I find myself completely and utterly captivated by you. I want to know everything about you, what fears you want to conquer, what emotions you’re hiding. I want to explore and enjoy you, Kat. Present tense.” He paused, and the silence pulsed and swelled between them. “So tell me, Kat. What is it that you want?”

The door to the patio slid open and Layla ran out, barreling into Kat. “Auntie Kat!”

Kat tore her eyes from Eric’s, relieved at the interruption. If they’d been alone for one more second, God only knew what answer she would have given him. The man was so intense, and everything he said was so impassioned, she was surprised the sparks between them didn’t ignite.

“Hey, sweetie!” She hugged Layla, eyeing Eric over her head and still floundering for an answer. “Look how tall you’ve grown, and your hair has gotten so long. You are gorgeous, just like your mom, but you look twelve, not ten.”

Layla giggled. “I’ve missed you so much. Mom’s giving Christian a bath and Daddy is making breakfast.” She was the spitting image of her mother, with cocoa-colored eyes, shiny dark hair, and a sparkling smile. She turned to Eric and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Uncle Eric, I’ve missed you, too.”

As Eric scooped Layla into his arms and kissed her cheek, the tension Kat had felt only moments ago disappeared. “I’ve missed you, too, kiddo.”

“Daddy said to tell you to stop bothering Auntie Kat and to go inside and help him cook breakfast.”

He set Layla down on the patio, but his focus never left the little girl. “Then I’d better go help. Your father is a mess in the kitchen.”

“No, he’s not,” Layla said with a laugh. “He loves to cook.”

Eric crouched beside her and whispered something in her ear that made Layla giggle. She looked up at Kat and nodded. Kat wondered what the heck he was whispering, but she wasn’t about to ask. Eric reached behind Layla’s ear, and when he opened his hand, there was a gold charm bracelet in his palm.

Layla gasped as he hooked the bracelet around her slender wrist and rose to his feet, then bowed dramatically. “I bid you farewell, my beautiful ladies.”

After he walked inside, Layla held her wrist up for Kat to admire the pretty bracelet with the heart charm dangling from it.

“That’s beautiful, Layla. Does Uncle Eric bring you gifts often?”

“Uh-huh. Sometimes he sends them in the mail with a card. He sends them to Christian, too.” She blinked up at Kat with mischief dancing in her eyes, and Kat felt her heart squeeze at Eric being so thoughtful. “He said soon you were going to call him Prince Eric.”

Kat’s jaw fell open. She remembered when Hugh and Brianna had first met, right before Layla’s sixth birthday, when Layla was going through a major princess phase. She’d called Hugh
Prince Hugh
. What in the hell would make Eric say such a thing to a little girl who obviously adored him? It was one thing to mess with her feelings, but a little girl’s?

She didn’t know how to respond, and she really didn’t know what to make of the man who was so sweet with Layla, fully engaged, warm, and loving, while he oozed sexuality and possessiveness with Kat. How would she make it through the weekend when every time they were close he nearly brought her to her knees with desire?

Chapter Five

ERIC SPENT THE afternoon catching up with Hugh and discussing the setup of the foundation scholarship while futilely trying not to think of Kat. She and Brianna had been chatting and laughing and carrying on with the kids just outside the open window, drawing his attention at every sound of her sweet voice. Kat’s laugh was so carefree and full of life, and it tweaked his heart at every turn with a whisper of familiarity.

“Dude, you’re fading out on me here,” Hugh said.

“I was just thinking about something.”

“You mean someone?” Hugh lifted his chin toward the window.

“There’s something so familiar about her. I feel like I know her, Hugh. It’s weird as shit and a little unsettling.”

“Unsettling in a bad way? Because as I mentioned last night, the vibes you two give off are not at all unsettling.” He pushed from the table and retrieved two bottles of beer from the fridge, giving one to Eric.

“Thanks.” He opened the bottle and took a swig, then sat back and crossed his ankle over his knee. “I feel like I know her. She reminds me of this girl I knew as a kid.”

“Hey, stranger things have happened,” Hugh said. “Ask her. Maybe it’s her.”

No way was he asking Kat if she went to Camp Kachimonte. He’d snuck into the camp the summer he’d turned nine, when he’d needed a reprieve from his stoned parents—and, embarrassingly, when he’d needed to eat. His parents weren’t big on providing for him as much as feeding their drug habits. Hugh knew about his parents, but what he didn’t know was that Eric had snuck into the camp cafeteria most afternoons that summer. He didn’t have many distinct memories of those afternoons, as most of them blended together in a jumble of fear and shame, but three instances stuck out in his mind. Once when he’d stopped a big kid from picking on a younger boy, and a little doe-eyed, blond girl who couldn’t have been more than five or six years old had told him that he was the bravest boy she knew. The second time was when that same little girl had dropped her ice cream sandwich in the dirt and he’d snuck into the kitchen after it was closed to get her a new one. She’d told him that he was the kindest boy she knew. Those things shouldn’t mean much to a nine-year-old boy, but Eric hadn’t received many accolades when he was growing up, and he’d held on to those little golden nuggets of praise and used them to pull himself through the harshest of days.

“No. There’s no way it’s her, and it was a long time ago. She reminds me of her, that’s all.”

He thought about the third, most powerful memory, the one he revisited most often. Not for the praise, but for the look in the little girl’s eyes when she’d said the words that to this day he still struggled with. He’d been swimming in the lake a good distance away from the kids from the camp when he’d seen the little girl flailing in the water. He’d been caught a few weeks earlier sneaking into the camp, and when the police had brought him home, his stoned father had taken the belt to him. He knew what was waiting for him if he got caught again, but when he’d seen the little girl go under, he didn’t hesitate to save her. He dragged her up to the beach and turned her on her side, the way he’d seen the lifeguards teaching the older kids during one of their safety lessons. She’d spewed water, coughing and gagging, and when she’d finally sat up, her tear-soaked eyes had widened and she’d pressed two tiny palms to his cheeks. He could still feel the pressure of them on his skin.
You saved me. You’re my real-life hero
, she’d said before pressing her lips to his. She was a little girl, and there was nothing sexual about the kiss. It was a frantic, relieved expression of gratitude, but when the counselor saw them, his eyes had blazed with fury and a chase had ensued. Thank God Eric was a fast runner. He’d scaled the fence and taken off like a bat out of hell. He’d had lots of practice running in those early years—and he’d spent every day since trying to escape his past.