Smolder: The Wildwood Series (15 page)

Chapter Fifteen

L
ANE WAS TIRED
and grumpy and hungry, not necessarily in that order. He’d been in line ordering a sandwich at the local Subway when he’d gotten the text from Delilah saying that she was waiting for him at his place.

He’d told himself that he wasn’t going to call her. Wasn’t going to ask to see her, wasn’t going to invite her over, nothing. But instead, she’d let herself in and made herself comfortable. He didn’t have the heart to tell her to go home.

Truly? He didn’t want her to go home. He wanted to see her. Was intrigued by her surprise. He’d gone ahead and ordered a sandwich for her as well, not bothering to ask if she was hungry or not. He just did it, figuring she’d want the sandwich later. They were bound to work up an appetite together eventually.

He ate half of his sandwich on the drive home and brought the Subway bag in with him, stashing it in the fridge before he made his way to the bedroom. He stopped in the open doorway and stared, surprised by the sight before him.

Delilah was sitting in the middle of his bed, her long dark hair brushed to one side and spilling down her front, her hands braced on the mattress. Her legs were on blatant display, long and slender, and he took a deep, appreciative breath.

She had the best fucking legs on the planet. He’d never known he was a leg man but when it came to this girl, he definitely was.

“Hi.” Her voice was soft and inviting and all he wanted to do was go to her.

But he remained where he stood, leaning against the doorjamb. “Hey.”

“Have I ever told you how sexy you are in your uniform?” She smiled, her gaze seeming to eat him up.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your legs?” He entered the bedroom, making his way toward her like he couldn’t help himself. It didn’t matter that he’d told himself he should cut her off. The moment they were in the same room together, he was drawn to her. Was desperate to touch her, consume her, strip her clothes off before he slid inside her . . .

She glanced at her legs, then returned her attention to him. “You do?”

“Oh yeah. They’re long. Sexy as fuck.” The pleased close-lipped smile that curved her lips was worth the confession. “I like watching you dance too.” Damn, he so did. He shouldn’t admit that either, but he wanted to be honest. “You have a beautiful body.”

“You say the best things, I swear.” She rose up onto her knees and scooted toward him, stopping directly in front of him. “You’re also wearing too much clothing.”

“And what are you wearing?” He let his gaze roam over her, taking in the gray tank top and how it clung to her small breasts, the hem cropped at her ribs so he could see her flat stomach. The panties matched the top, and they covered a lot, which was sort of a disappointment.

But she was pretty much wearing nothing so how could he be disappointed with that?

“Do you like crotchless panties?”

He frowned, reaching out to stroke his fingers across her cheek. Her skin was soft and she seemed to lean into his touch. “Do you?”

“I asked you first.” She raised a brow. “Be honest.”

This felt like a trick question. “I guess they’re . . . pretty pointless?” His gaze dropped to her panties, lingering there. He knew what lay beneath the soft fabric and he wanted to touch her. Desperately.

She clapped, looking pleased. “That was the right answer. Okay, let’s take your shirt off.”

“What’s my surprise?” He let her unbutton his shirt, helping her only when he needed to shrug it off. She pulled his T-shirt from where it was tucked into his pants, her fingers brushing against his stomach and making his cock twitch.

“You don’t wear a bulletproof vest?” She frowned up at him, her fingers working the button on the front of his pants.

He shrugged out of his T-shirt and tossed it on the floor. “I took it off at the station. It’s too damn hot right now. That extra layer makes me uncomfortable.”

“But otherwise, you wear one, right?” She met his gaze once more, concern filling her eyes.

“Yeah. I do. Though I’ve never been shot at in my life.” He touched the center of her bottom lip with his thumb, rubbing her there. Her mouth was sexy. The stuff of dreams. Everything about her was sexy. He still couldn’t believe he was doing this with Delilah. A woman he’d lusted after for so damn long he was positive he never had a chance with her.

“Good. I don’t like thinking of you out there without one. You need protection.” She undid the button and slid down the zipper of his uniform pants, her fingers skimming the front of his boxer briefs. Just like that, he had an erection. “Though I think it’s kind of hot that you wear a gun. Where’s your holster?”

“Left my belt on the kitchen counter.” He sucked in a breath when she pushed his pants down his legs until they fell in a heap around his feet. “Uh, I still have my boots on.”

“Oh, let me take care of that for you.” She climbed off the bed and shoved him down so he sat on the edge of the mattress. He was too stunned to react when she knelt at his feet, casting him a shy yet sultry smile before she went to work on his boots, untying them and then loosening the laces before she started to pull the right one off his foot.

That’s when he noticed the back of her panties. The fluffy white cotton ball sitting in the direct center of her ass, a flash of white surrounding it. “Whatcha got going on back there?” He waved a finger toward her backside.

Smiling, she untied the laces on his other boot. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Is that my surprise?”

“Perhaps.” She shrugged, her fingers busily working the laces before she pulled the second one off, tearing his socks off next. He kicked off his pants. “There. All better?”

He had the sudden image of her doing this for him every night when he came home from work. Or maybe he’d massage her feet after a long day at the studio. She’d cook him dinner and they’d tell each other about their day, laughing over stories of the weirdos he encountered or the old regulars who made 911 calls mostly because they were lonely and looking for company. She’d tell him about her students and who had real potential as a future dancer. They’d laugh over shared stories about their friends. Drink wine or beer and watch TV before they went to bed and he made love to her . . .

A nice fantasy that could be reality if he’d just get over his hang-ups once and for all.

“Now lie down,” she told him, offering him a sweet smile that was pure innocence. But the way her eyes flashed told him she had something else planned, and he followed her command, curious to see what she was going to do.

He hadn’t lied when he said he was tired and probably wouldn’t be good company tonight. Seeing his dad, worrying over his mom, being frustrated by that Josh prick, and lacking sleep from the night before had worn him the hell out. But he was glad she was here. He needed the distraction Delilah provided.

She crawled on top of him, straddling his hips as she leaned over him and brushed her mouth against his. “You comfortable?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He cupped the back of her head and brought her in for another kiss, trying to take it deeper, but she resisted. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to relax you. And kissing won’t relax you. It’ll just get you all worked up.” She smiled and moved down him, her hair drifting across his chest, her hot mouth pressed against his skin. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, his cock straining against the front of his boxer briefs, eager to get out and join the party.

“What you’re doing right now is getting me all worked up,” he said, hissing out a breath when she kissed his stomach, her fingers teasing at the waistband of his underwear.

“Oh, whoops.” She didn’t sound very sorry. “You want to see your surprise now?”

“Hell yeah.” He popped his eyes open to find her smiling at him.

“You have to close your eyes.”

“I just did.”

“You have to close them again.” She tilted her head to the side with a sexy pout. “Please?”

Without a word, he closed his eyes, waiting impatiently for his surprise. She slid off him, then slid back on but her voice sounded far away.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

He did, blinking at what was in front of him: Delilah’s perfect ass covered in those soft gray panties, the outline of a white bunny rabbit in the dead center of her ass, the white fluffy tail wagging back and forth in his face. She was giggling, half of her ass was hanging out, and he’d never seen a cuter—or sexier—sight.

“What do you think?”

He skimmed his fingers along the bottom curve of one perfect ass cheek, his fingertips dipping beneath the fabric. “I think I just discovered I have a thing for bunnies.”

D
ELILAH SHOULD FEEL
shameful for wagging her ass in front of Lane’s face but she was having too much fun to worry about it. Plus, she was enjoying the appreciative way he kept touching her, his fingers sneaking beneath her panties and touching her bare skin. The way he’d trace the outline of the bunny, his finger pressing on the fabric so she could really feel him.

And he felt really good.

“So this is my surprise.”

“Yes. It is. Do you like?”

“I think it’s adorably sexy.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” She looked down, her face awfully close to his boxer brief‒covered erection, and she leaned in, dropping a kiss on his cock. He groaned, making her smile.

“It’s a good thing. Fuck, such a good thing.” He tugged on her panties, his hands diving right in, fingers sliding forward, between her legs. She jolted against his touch, sucking in a breath when he pushed two fingers inside her wet center. “Damn, woman.”

She closed her eyes and rode his fingers, shameless in her movements, reveling in the way he made her feel. He pushed her panties to the side, exposing her, and she couldn’t bother to care at how close or how much he could see. And he could see everything. She’d always believed her butt was her best feature—though it looked like Lane preferred her legs—so she worked her hips and pushed her backside closer to his face, making him chuckle.

“You like this?” he asked as he continued to fuck her with his fingers.

“Mmm-hmm.” Oh, God. He hit a particular spot deep inside that felt far too good. Way too good. It was early. She’d only just climbed on top of him and she’d fully planned on giving him a blowjob to end all blowjobs, but he’d taken charge as usual and now here she was, working herself on his fingers, practically bouncing, drawing closer and closer to that magical, sparkly orgasm that hovered just on the other side of that delicious edge.

It was when he lifted his head and put his mouth on her that she exploded. A surprised cry escaped her as she came all over his face, her body trembling as he gripped her hip with one big hand and held her in place. He licked her quivering flesh until her orgasm subsided and she was afraid she’d melt away into nothing. Her chest felt tight and she could hardly catch her breath but
oh my God
, that orgasm was freaking fantastic.

“I take it you like bunnies now too, right?” he asked, his voice deep and so full of male satisfaction from making her come that she almost wanted to laugh.

She glanced over her shoulder, breathless at the sight of him. “I love bunnies,” she said solemnly.

“Me too.” He slid his fingers between her legs again, making her bite her lower lip, and then he was shoving her away from him, his expression growing dark. “Grab a condom out of the bedside table. Hurry.”

“Why do I need to hurry?” She scrambled off him and crawled over to the bedside table, pulling open the drawer and reaching for the box of condoms he kept inside. She pulled one out and he snatched it from her fingers before she could hand it to him. Baffled, she shut the drawer and turned to find he’d already shed his boxer briefs and was rolling the condom over his very thick, very aggressive-looking cock.

“Because I need to be inside you. Come here. Ride me.” He pulled her on top of him, his cock pressed at her entrance as his hands shoved at the hem of her camisole, and she tore it off, tossing it on the floor. She reached between them, guiding his cock, and rose up on her knees, sending him deep inside her.

He kept his gaze on her as his hands slid up to cup her breasts and play with her nipples. She tossed her head back, closing her eyes as she rode him, her movements awkward at first as she tried to find her rhythm, but once they hit that sweet spot, she moved in earnest. Loving how deep he went, she rocked against him, gasping when his hands fell to her hips and gripped her tight.

“I’m gonna fuck you fast,” he muttered as he started to move, lifting his hips and pulling her down on his cock, the sensation sending another one of those orgasmic jolts through her. “Christ, Dee, I have no control when it comes to you.”

She bounced up and down, loving that she was the reason he lost all control. She wanted that, cherished that. He was always so rigid, so calm, but when he was with her, he let go. He felt. He wanted. He needed.

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes and she mentally fought them off. Now was not the time for tears. He was fucking her brains out. This wasn’t an emotional love-filled moment. It was raw and possessive and beautiful and real. She fell over him, her mouth finding his, their tongues twisting, teeth clashing, a growl escaping as he gripped her tightly. They moved together as if they were made for each other and when he tore his mouth from hers, a ragged groan falling from his lips as he went still for that one long second just before the orgasm swept over him, she clutched at his hair, staring at him, her mind filled with just one thought:

This man? He belonged to her.

Chapter Sixteen

A
WEEK
.

Delilah hadn’t seen or heard or even received smoke signals in the sky from his stubborn ass for an entire week. Nothing. Nada. She’d talked to his sister. She’d talked to his brothers. Hell, she’d talked to his
mother
when she stopped by the dance studio after picking up a gallon of milk from Hillside Market one late afternoon. Angela had glided in with a smile on her face and a crushing hug just for her. Delilah had figured she was there to see Wren, who’d already gone home, but Angela only laughed and shook her head.

“Oh, no dear, I came to see
you
. I wanted to invite you to dinner at my house next week. All the children are coming. West is bringing Harper. And I’d hoped Lane would bring you.” She beamed, looking terribly pleased with herself. “Say yes. I’d love to have you as part of the family.”

That had been three days ago. Of course, she’d said she’d be there, though she hadn’t mentioned to Angela that Lane, the jackass, hadn’t invited her. Hadn’t even mentioned the dinner.

His behavior left her terribly confused. And mad as hell.

What had she done? Where had it all gone wrong? She didn’t know. Their last night together had been mind-blowing. When he’d made her come with his mouth, oh God. She still got shivers just thinking about it. Then she’d come again when they’d had sex the first time. And the second time. He’d even made her come with only his fingers—her fourth orgasm of the evening. And then they’d done it one more time, right before dawn, before she could sneak out of his bed and tiptoe out of his house like a thief in the night. He’d fucked her hard, pushing her into the mattress, using her completely, his focus only on himself. She’d let him be selfish, relishing the wild expression on his face, the way he’d handled her so roughly. Not so rough that he caused her pain but he definitely hadn’t behaved like a gentle, sweet lover.

She’d enjoyed every freaking minute of it too. Lane could unleash on her anytime he wanted. She’d left his house on wobbly legs, her entire body aching deliciously, and thought of him every time she crossed her legs or stretched her thighs throughout the day. She hurt in the best possible way and she wanted him to bring back that ache again.

And again.

But of course, he had to go and ruin everything. Disappearing off the face of the earth—and come on, the town wasn’t that big. She hadn’t seen him in seven long days. If she were ever tempted to murder someone, it would be right about now. She’d curl her hands around his thick neck and choke the life out of him. And just before he gasped his last breath, she’d let go and offer him comfort because damn it, even at her maddest, she couldn’t stand the thought of him
not
being a part of her life.

Stupid, big, dumb manly jerk.

Well, he couldn’t avoid her forever. She knew for a fact he was working. That he was the only deputy on patrol this afternoon. Should she call him?

No. Not directly at least.

Hmm.

An idea popped in her head. A bad one. Well, more like bad in the sense that she was doing something she shouldn’t. She found a mess behind the studio when she first came in, and she figured kids did it. She really did want to report it so maybe they could catch the little vandals. But calling 911 to get Lane here would be a huge no-no.

So she put in a call through the nonemergency line, saying that she suspected vandalism behind her place of business and could they please send a deputy over when they got a chance so she could make a report?

The dispatcher said a car would be over within the next hour, and Delilah waited patiently, searching the web yet again for competition locations. The plan was already in place and they had a tentative competitive dance team of eight girls put together so far. Two of them wanted to do solo routines. Wren said money-wise they were set to go. Now they were working on routines, costume choices, and exactly how many competitions they wanted to participate in. She was excited. Her business was thriving, she was doing new things, and she should’ve felt on top of the world.

But she wasn’t. The man she was in love with—yes, in
love
with, she could fully admit to herself now—was being ridiculous. That she had to practically call 911 to get him to see her was the lowest of the low. But she figured a woman in love would do whatever it took to garner her man’s attention.

She was still at the computer in the studio office when the hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle and stand on end. The front door swung open and she heard a muttered oath once it slammed shut.

It was Lane.

Smoothing a shaky hand over her hair, she stood and went out to confront him though he was the one to speak first.

“Really, Dee? You’re making false calls to get me to see you? And you still leave the door unlocked?”

Oh, he had a lot of nerve to nag when he was the one running scared.

Lifting her chin, she glared at him. “I did not make a false call.”

He lifted his brows but didn’t say a word. Damn it, that was a sexy look on him. In fact, he was infuriatingly sexy right now. She was such a sucker for Lane in his uniform, and an irritated, uniformed Lane was still sexy. No other man did it for her. Only Lane could make her heart race wearing that black deputy sheriff’s uniform and a very dark, very somber frown on his too-handsome face.

Glaring at him, she clenched her hands into fists and swore she wouldn’t say or do something stupid.

“Come out back. I’ll show you the vandalism.” She turned and started toward the back of the building, glancing over her shoulder to find him frozen in front of the door. “Come on,” she urged with a wave of her hand.

He fell into step behind her, following her through the studio, the office, until they reached the back door. Turning the lock, she pushed the heavy door open so that they both emerged outside. She pointed to a small, nearby Dumpster that had been tipped over, falling into an old table she kept out there and crushing it completely.

“See? Vandalism. Who knocks over a Dumpster?” Probably kids. She wasn’t sure. Neither the door nor the lock had been messed with and that made her feel better. She figured whoever had been out here was mostly harmless.

He stood there silently, surveying the damage with his hands resting on his hips. His nearness sent a crackling energy through her veins and made her want to reach out and grab him. Shake him. Kiss him. Tell him she loved him and he needed to stop acting so silly . . .

“What was on the table?” His quiet, stern voice broke through her muddled thoughts.

“Huh?”

“What did you use the table for?”

“Oh. Well, there are a few stray cats who hang out around here so sometimes I put out a bowl of cat food.” She felt sorry for the strays that were too wild to really pick up but could always appreciate a free bowl of food. They’d wind their bodies around her legs and brush up against her, meowing their requests, but the moment she reached for them, they’d run off.

Hmm. They reminded her of a particular someone. The man standing in front of her was like one of those elusive-jerk cats. Teasing her but never quite able to make the commitment.

“It was likely raccoons.”

“What?” She blinked up at him. How could raccoons tip over a Dumpster? “No way. How could they knock it over?”

“The wheels look pretty wobbly.” They were. The thing leaned to the left most of the time. It was on the small side, old and rusted out and just as much a piece of garbage as what they stashed in there. “And there have been reports of a family of raccoons around here causing trouble. I’ve actually taken calls on them.” He peered inside the Dumpster and shook his head. “Your bowl is in here and there’s not a lick of cat food remaining.”

“Probably because the cats ate it all.”

“More like the raccoons ate it all. They love that stuff. You know this, Dee. You can’t leave a bowl of cat food outside all night. The moment it gets dark, raccoons and all the other critters are out looking for an easy meal.”

He was right. She knew this. But really, she’d figured kids had knocked over the Dumpster and broken her table. That had been a good little table. She’d had it since she was a kid and moved it into the studio when she first bought the place from her old dance teacher Lesandre. Once she became business partners with Wren, and they’d moved in another desk along with two giant file cabinets, the table had had to go. So she’d set it outside, a temporary fix.

Now it was gone forever. And like an idiot, she mourned the loss.

“Stupid raccoons.” She kicked at the broken table but only managed to stub her toe since she was wearing flip-flops. She cried out, more in frustration than pain, pissed that she’d forget all sense in the presence of stupid Lane Gallagher, and she was tempted to shake her fists at the sky and say why.

Just before she rained her fists all over Lane’s head, pummeling him senseless.

Clearly she had anger issues.

“You okay?”

His question, the concern in his voice, the way he looked at her, like he wanted to run both toward her and away from her, was the final straw.

“
No.
No, I’m not okay, Lane. Are you okay? Tell me the truth, because there has to be a reason why you’ve been avoiding me for the last week.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, ignoring the throbbing in her big toe.

The look on his face was nothing short of helpless, with a heaping dose of panic. This was the last conversation he wanted to have, she was sure of it.

Well, tough shit.

“I’ve been—busy.”

“Bullshit.” She spit the word out so fiercely he took a step back, as if she’d suddenly frightened him. Good. He should be frightened. “Stop making excuses. Did you panic? Was it so good between us you got scared? Is that your problem? Are you afraid of us being over before we really began?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Everyone’s afraid of something. It’s okay,” she added in a rush when he looked ready to protest. “Being scared means you’re human. Guess what? I’m scared of you. I’m scared of what I feel for you. How much power you hold and you’re not even aware of it.”

Lane frowned. “What do you mean? I don’t control you.” He sounded offended.

“I didn’t say you controlled me, but you do have power over me. My feelings for you make up so much of who I am.” The words left her in an almost whisper and the unfamiliar emotion she saw flash in his gaze made her knees wobble.

“It’s probably not healthy, you feeling like that. About me.”

Her jaw dropped open. “Are you saying I’m crazy for loving you? Then call me crazy. I’m tired of denying my feelings.”

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head at her admission. Well, good. He needed to hear the truth. And if it rocked his world, then maybe that’s what he needed.

“Does the truth hurt, Lane?” She was taunting him, which was rude, but she couldn’t help herself.

He blew out a harsh breath and looked away from her, his gaze focusing on God knew what. Damn, he looked good in profile, the hot summer breeze ruffling through his dark hair. It had been too long since she set eyes on him and she took her time studying him.

He was too beautiful for words. And so frustrating she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“Looks like a fire,” he said almost conversationally.

“What?” The rapid change of subject had her brain scrambling to keep up.

“Up there on the ridge.” He pointed and she followed the direction of his finger, focusing on a plume of smoke spiraling into the sky. It grew thicker as she watched, like a white round cloud in the distance. He grabbed hold of his radio and spoke into it, saying a few codes, asking about a fire and listening to dispatch relay the information back to him, his mouth tight, his gaze toward the mountain. “I should go,” he said once the dispatcher went quiet. “There’s a fire.”

“You’re going to leave now?” She threw her hands up into the air. Fine, so there was a fire. But wasn’t that Cal Fire’s job? “Are you serious?”

Right after I told you I loved you?

She wanted to hit him.

“Dee, I’m on duty. The fire is already thirty acres and growing. The wind is blowing and the air is hot. It’s prime fire weather.” He strode toward her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and gave her a little shake. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m an asshole for avoiding you.”

“You totally were.”

The faint smile curling his lips told her he appreciated her honesty. At least someone did. “I’m an asshole for leaving you right now too.”

“I won’t argue with you on that point.”

“It sounds like an excuse, but I really was busy. But I was also . . . freaking out.” He winced.

She stared up at him, startled by his admission. “What were you freaking out over?”

He didn’t answer her question. “I’ve missed you.” Leaning in, he rested his forehead against hers. “A lot.”

Oh, God. All he had to do was say a few kind words, and she wanted to melt. She should resist, the thing she needed to do right at this very moment was resist, but he made it so difficult. “I missed you too.” More too-revealing words were on the tip of her tongue, and she pressed her lips together, knowing now was not the right time to continue confessing her true feelings.

Though he’d stomped all over her heart by not admitting that he cared about her too. She didn’t even need to hear the
love
word back. She just needed him to know it. She needed him to hear it.

Maybe he didn’t hear that word enough.

“I gotta go.” He shifted away from her and she felt the loss. Felt the wide-open split of her heart that was just dying to be filled with anything and everything that had to do with Lane. But he still kept up those walls. Used those same old excuses.

She was growing weary, dealing with it—with him—all the time. But he was busy. He had a job to do. And she didn’t want to freak him out further. He was already running scared. Admitting how she felt about him when he wasn’t ready to hear it might send him packing for good.

The dread that filled her over revealing her exact feelings couldn’t be stopped. She couldn’t take those words back either. Not that he had even acknowledged them.