Melt For Me (Against All Odds Book 3) (10 page)

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “So good…”

He wasn’t going to last. He gripped one of her thighs and pushed it back, shoving himself even deeper inside her, desperate to take her over with him. “Ella. Look at me.”

Her head tossed. Her fingernails dug into his forearms. But he didn’t care. Sliding the fingers of his other hand into her hair, he forced her to face him. “Only you,” he whispered when their eyes met. “You’re it for me.”

Her back bowed, and she cried out. And as her climax slammed into her, he finally let go, spilling nine years of pent-up heartache and agony and frustration until there was nothing left but bliss.

Long minutes passed. He knew he was crushing her. But she felt so good beneath him. Warm and sweet and everything he’d been missing. And his muscles weren’t working yet enough to move.

Ella’s hand landed against his shoulder, then ran across his upper back. “Oh my, that was good. I forgot how good that was. Please tell me you have at least another round of that in you tonight.”

He smiled and pressed his lips against her throat. “You might have to give me a few minutes, but I’m pretty sure I can accommodate that request.”

Her muscles tightened beneath him, and she giggled. A sound that was so sweet, he found the strength to push up on one hand and look down at her.

Her eyes were glossy, her hair a wild tangle around her face. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her lips were swollen from his mouth. But in that moment, she’d never looked more beautiful. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Her eyes darkened as she focused on his throat. “And you’ve always been a charmer.”

“You’re the only woman I ever wanted to charm.” He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles one by one.

Something in her eyes said she wasn’t completely convinced, but she closed them before he could look deeper. “This is complicated. I can’t leave Holly because it’s our busiest season, and you have to be at a gig in Miami in two days.”

Oh yeah. The gig. “I can catch a flight out of Asheville Christmas morning and be back in time to tuck you into bed.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “Or the couch. Whichever.”

When she opened her eyes and frowned up at him like that would never happen, he added, “Or I can charter a plane. Don’t worry, Ella.”

Doubt crept into her pretty eyes again, and she looked down at his throat once more. “Tate, I—”

“Don’t say it, Ella.” She was about to tell him they didn’t stand a chance. Lifting her chin with one finger so she would look back into his eyes, he added, “We can make this work.”

“But I live here and you live—”

“I can live anywhere. That’s the benefit to my profession.”

“You’re saying you’d want to live in Holly three hundred and sixty-five days a year?”

Did that mean she wanted to stay here? Kelly had made it sound as if she wanted to sell the bar and leave.

He glanced toward the snow falling lightly outside the window, visualizing a future he’d been too afraid to fantasize about only hours ago. “Maybe not
that
much, but I could get used to a place like this. Holly has a certain
je ne sais quoi
about it.”

She laughed. “You speak French now?”

He grinned. “I’m all culture, baby. Didn’t you know that? We rock stars aren’t all sex, drugs, and rock and roll. At least not all the time.”

Her laugh turned into a sigh, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug once more. And he took that as a good sign. There were still things unresolved between them. He hadn’t told her he loved her yet. Hadn’t told her the real reason he was here. Was afraid of spooking her too soon. They had nine years to make up for. But she wasn’t pushing him away, and he saw that as a start.

“I guess we can worry about that later, right?” she said, threading her fingers through his hair. “I mean, twenty-four hours from now, you might be totally bored of me.”

He pushed up on one hand again. “That is never going to happen.”

Her eyes darkened, and he sensed all those doubts were rushing in again, so he brushed a lock of hair from her face, then leaned down to press his lips against hers. Soft. Gentle. As sweet as the love he felt for her. “Give it a chance, Ella. Give us a chance, and I promise all your Christmas wishes will come true.”

She hesitated, then opened to his kiss and drew him in. And as her tongue swept along his and her taste filled his senses, he prayed she listened. And believed him. Because this was one holiday he wanted her to remember for the rest of her life.

T
he crack of wood breaking and glass shattering jolted Ella awake.

She sat straight up on the carpet in front of the fireplace, where Tate had made a bed for them with pillows and blankets, and looked around. Her apartment was dark and silent, the only light an eerie orange glow from the streetlights outside and the red glow of embers in the hearth.

“Tate?” She held the blanket to her chest. Her muscles were loose and relaxed from hours of making love, but something in her stomach tightened as she looked toward the bathroom door. It sat ajar, the light off, no movement beyond.

“Tate?” she called again as she pushed to her feet and wrapped the blanket around her body, then glanced toward the small alcove kitchen. It too was empty.

A strange sense of foreboding tingled along her spine. Moving toward the bedroom she used as a storage closet, she pushed that door open and glanced over the dark sea of boxes. “Tate?”

Still no answer. No sign of him anywhere. She shot a look toward the clock on the wall: 4:34 a.m. Where could he have gone?

All those doubts and worries she’d pushed aside earlier in the evening came rushing back. What if he’d decided he didn’t miss her quite as much as he’d said? What if he’d gotten what he came for and had already left? What if—

Glass shattered again, and she whipped back to face the fireplace, only to realize the sound had come from the bar one floor below.

“Shit.” Panic condensed in her chest. Someone was down there. Probably the same someone who’d cut her power earlier in the week.

Tossing the blanket to the floor, she moved toward the dresser she kept pushed against the wall in the living area, pulled sweats from the bottom drawer, tugged them on, and hustled for the front door.

Her bare feet padded along the hardwood floor. Pulse pounding hard, she moved down the stairs, reached the bottom step, and yanked the door open. Then froze and gasped.

Cold air rushed over her from the broken front windows. Snow was already gathering on the hardwood floor of the pub. Chairs and tables lay in shambles. The boxes from tonight’s delivery were ripped open, bottles shattered in a pile of glass, alcohol spilling over the floor in a river of gold and brown and green.

“Oh my God…”

A hand landed on her shoulder. Fear sent Ella’s adrenaline surging, and she whipped around and struck out with her fist.

“Whoa.” Tate jerked back and held up both hands. “It’s just me.”

Ella’s hand unclenched and shot to her throat. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just heard your steps on the st—” His gaze drifted past her, and his eyes widened. “Holy hell.”

Ella turned to look over the pub once more, and her spirits dropped. “Who could do something like this?”

Tate’s jaw hardened, and he grasped her, then pulled her back onto the stairs. “Go back up and call the police. Right now.”

Fear shot down Ella’s spine as he stepped past her. “What are you going to do?”

“Make sure no one’s still here.”

“Tate—”

“Go, Ella.”

He moved into the bar, grabbed a broken chair and pulled a leg off, then gripped it in his hand like a baseball bat as he headed toward the kitchen. Realizing what he was about to do, Ella bolted for the stairs and rushed for her apartment.

She quickly found her phone, called 911, and relayed the break-in. Then she grabbed a real baseball bat from the closet and rushed back down to the bar.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she gripped the bat in both hands and tentatively moved across the floor. She made it halfway to the bar before Tate stepped out of the hallway that led to the kitchen and frowned.

“You don’t need that. Whoever did this is long gone.”

Ella’s shoulders dropped, and the end of the bat hit the ground near her feet with a
thunk
. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He moved around the mess of bottles and boxes, careful not to step on any glass, and took the bat from her hand. “Back door’s wide open, but there’s no one in the kitchen or the cellar. And the alley is empty. I checked.”

“I called the police. They should be here any minute.”

“Good.”

Slowly, Ella looked over the pub once more, and her spirits sank lower. This was more damage than she’d endured a few days ago with the power outage. This would shut her down on the busiest night of her year.

“Hey.” His arm slid around her shoulder. “We’ll fix this.”

She wasn’t sure they could. Not before opening tomorrow. “Where were you?”

“What?”

“When I woke, you weren’t there.” She turned to look up at him.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that. I went upstairs to find my phone. Needed to call the band to let them know I’d meet them in Miami. I didn’t want to wake you.”

That made sense. Except…a phone call could have waited until morning. Who talked at four a.m.? Even rock stars had to sleep.

“Look,” Tate said, “I need to go grab a shirt before the cops get here. Are you gonna be okay down here alone, or do you want to come up with me?”

For the first time, she realized he was wearing nothing but loose-fitting jeans. No shirt. No shoes. Not even socks. She looked away from his chiseled chest and abs. “Um…I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” He squeezed her shoulder, then leaned in and kissed her temple. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

He turned and hustled up the stairs. But as he left and Ella glanced back over the disaster, she wasn’t sure how anything would be okay in time for Christmas. Someone was clearly targeting her, and she didn’t know why. But more than that, she couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that all the trouble in her bar had started exactly when Tate Kendrick had rolled into town and crashed back into her life.

She wanted to believe he really was here for her. That he’d tracked her down after nine years because he did miss her. But something in the back of her mind warned her not to be naive. And though she didn’t want to believe his appearance and her break-ins were related, something in her gut couldn’t quite convince herself of that fact.

CHAPTER SIX

T
hey’d made it.

Ella braced her elbows on the desk in her apartment, dropped her head into her hands, and drew in a shaky breath. Every muscle in her body hurt, and she was so exhausted she was afraid she might fall asleep on her feet. But her night was just beginning.

Her employees had all pitched in and come in early to help put the pub back together after the police had wrapped up their investigation. Kelly had run into Asheville to restock the alcohol they’d lost in the damage. Tate had directed the cleanup crew, while Ella had arranged for new tables and chairs to be delivered from the local woodworker who’d originally furnished the bar, and helped Matt shop for food to replace what had spoiled when the freezers were left open.

It was now 4:45 p.m., and they were scheduled to open at five for the dinner crowd. Six hours later than normal, but better than nothing. Christmas Eve was Ella’s busiest night of the year. With the Winter Wonderland Festival happening tonight, Holly would be packed, and if Ella had any hope of getting out of this town in the next few months, she couldn’t sit tonight out.

In the corner, the radio she kept on low pumped out a rock tune she didn’t recognize. Dropping her hands, she leaned back in her chair. She needed a shower, but she didn’t have time. Her gaze drifted to the light snow falling again outside her window. All she really wanted to do was grab a blanket and curl up on her couch for the next ten hours, but she couldn’t because she had responsibilities and bills and people counting on her. Sighing, she glanced toward the front door and told herself to get back out there. But before she could push to her feet, her gaze landed on Kyle’s old leather jacket hanging on a hook by the front door. The one thing of his she’d kept.