Stirring Attraction (9 page)

She glanced up. His beard appeared wild. But ­coupled with the long hair, the facial hair seemingly softened the football star turned soldier.

What would it feel like to kiss him?

His beard had blown past the scratchy phase weeks, maybe even months, ago. Not that his facial hair stood between a kiss and walking away. She couldn't escape the fact that this man wasn't right for her. As soon as he found her attacker and made sure she was safe, he'd leave again. He always left.

But then what was the harm in kissing him now?

This time, she knew going in that he wasn't permanent. She'd spent so long believing she could have a future with this man. But over the past six years, she'd come to terms with what she needed from a relationship—­permanence and trust. If she ever pulled herself together and broke free from this nightmare, she could find a man who could deliver both—­and maybe the family she craved. If she found him, she could fall in love again. Right now, she was too broken, living in fear of the dark, her shadow, her own closet . . .

And so was Dominic.

OK, he probably wasn't terrified by the thought of opening the door to his closet to pick out shoes. And if the bogeyman—­or the guy from the park—­tried anything with him, well, Dominic would likely take him out. She had a feeling he could do it with his bad hand tied behind his back.

Still . . .

After all this time, maybe they were finally in the right place, at the right time in their lives, to be just enough for each other in the present.

“Don't take this the wrong way,” she said, keeping her voice low as she ran her hand over his beard and cupped his jaw. “But I'm going to kiss you.”

She detected a hint of a smile beneath his beard. “Just so we're clear, what is the wrong way?”

She rose up on her tiptoes and pulled her other hand free from his hold. “This kiss isn't an incentive to do a little detective work.”

“You're not trying to bribe me with kisses?”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “I'd start lower if that was my plan. And the um, evidence”—­she stole a quick glance at his lower half—­“beneath my head last night suggests that you'd agree.”

His left hand brushed her chin, tilting it back until her gaze met his. “No, I'd start with your lips. But, honey, I know I make a better bodyguard than a boyfriend for you—­”

“I don't need a boyfriend right now. I just need—­”

Crash!

Her body tensed and her fingers dug into Dominic as she swallowed the word “you.” Fear dominated her senses, stripping away the desire as if her need to kiss the man holding her close was nothing more than a Band-­Aid waiting to be ripped off. She heard footsteps, but she couldn't see who had burst in.

Because her “bodyguard” had taken control.

Dominic pulled her close as he guided their bodies back, away from the desk, and through the partially open door leading to the bathroom. “You're all right,” he murmured. “You're safe.”

She nodded, trying to digest the words. At some point, she'd released her hold on his jaw and pulled her hand free from his hair. Her fingers now clung to his biceps. She needed his strength now, not his kisses.

But I still want that kiss.

She heard voices—­plural—­in the bar's back room. There were two ­people out there having what sounded like a very private discussion.

“Caroline.” She formed the name with her lips, barely daring to whisper and give away her hiding place.

Dominic nodded. And the second person spoke again.

Josh Summers. The bar's resident baker.

She pulled free from Dominic's hold. One step backward and she felt the sink. She leaned against the vanity's edge. If she hadn't let the fear take over, they would be out there kissing right now. Caroline and Josh would have taken one look at the ­couple making out by the desk and retreated to someplace more private.

But if she didn't live with fear hovering around her and waiting to strike, if she could snap her fingers and return to her old self, then Dominic wouldn't be here. And if he had returned under different circumstances, she would be looking for a future he couldn't provide.

Dammit, why did Caroline have to choose this moment, when Lily was on the verge of giving in to a feeling that had nothing to do with fear? Why now, when Lily had been ready and willing to steal a kiss from Dominic, did the dishwasher have to burst in and shatter the moment and leave her hiding in the Big Buck's bathroom with the man she wanted to kiss?

 

Chapter Nine

“S
OUNDS LIKE SOMEONE
else decided to tackle the bodyguard-­versus-­boyfriend question,” Dominic murmured more to himself than the frozen, wide-­eyed woman behind him. His training had kicked in when he heard the door swing open and he'd turned his focus to erasing Lily's rising fear. Now, he moved to the other side of the door, which stood ajar.

But he sure as shit was out of practice, because he'd landed them in a windowless bathroom. And the threat? Noah's pie-­throwing friend and Josh Summers, a guy he'd run into a time or two in Forever or around the neighboring town, Independence Falls.

“Why do you bring pies?” Caroline asked, her voice direct and clear.

Was “pie” a code word? Judging from Caroline's guarded expression, and the way Josh followed her into the room as if he wanted to be as close to her as she would allow . . . yeah, “why do you bring pies” must translate into something not suitable for work.

“I like to bake,” Josh said. The next few words were lost, but the sentence ended with the word “memory.”

Hell, maybe they were talking pie and Dominic had Josh to thank for spending his first night in town wearing marionberries.

“Noah didn't ask you to keep an eye on me?” Caroline demanded. Based on her tone, Josh Summers had better hope she couldn't get her hands one of his pies—­or her gun.

But the youngest Summers brother seemed oblivious to the threat. He merely laughed, then said: “Noah doesn't want me anywhere near you. He doesn't think you're ready for a relationship or the things that go with it.”

We shouldn't be eavesdropping on this. We should go out there, tell them we're here and ask them to take their pie/sex talk somewhere else.

Dominic glanced at Lily, who was still holding the vanity's edge as if she needed support. The other ­couple's arrival had clearly triggered her lingering anxiety. If he marched her out there now, her fear would be on display. He couldn't do that to her. But he couldn't leave her here.

“I'm not ready.” The words carried the first tinge of fear in Caroline's voice. “If that's why you're still coming around, after all this time . . . you need to move on. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. I haven't had sex because I wanted to in years.”

Ah hell, no wonder everyone in Forever believed Noah hired strays. First he'd taken in Josie. And Dominic now knew about the loss she'd suffered even if she'd tried to hide it from everyone. Then, Caroline—­

“There's no timeline,” Josh said. “After what your commanding officer did to you, I don't expect you to start trusting strange men you meet in the forest overnight. I'd be in trouble if you did. This is timber country. You're bound to come across loggers in these woods.”

“There's a big difference between overnight and a year, Josh.”

She's military.
The pieces fell into place. And he'd be willing to guess, this was the woman his best friend hadn't been able to save. Noah had mentioned that he'd been serving alongside a woman that he hadn't been able to help. Dominic had assumed she'd been hit. Flying shrapnel. IED. Not rape. His best friend had never mentioned rape by a fellow soldier.

“Plus, I'm still hiding,” Caroline said.

“No one knows you're here,” Josh said firmly. “And we're going to keep it that way.”

Fuck.
And he thought he had issues. This woman had run from her duty to serve.

“I'm not worried about Duncan finding me and blaming me for ruining his career,” Caroline said. “I'm AWOL. I shouldn't be here. I should be serving . . .”

The pie-­throwing dishwasher was running from the military. And Dominic knew that unauthorized absences came with serious consequences. If she was caught, she could end up behind bars. Probably a worst-­case scenario, but still.

“Caroline.”

Dominic had a feeling Josh now stood pretty damn close to her. He stole a glance through the cracked door. And yeah, Josh was within arm's reach of the woman with the long black hair. The dishwasher was petite. Her oversized Big Buck's T-­shirt, cargo shorts, and black combat boots didn't help.

“I bring the pies because I like you,” Josh said.

And Dominic had bad feeling this moment was about to get a little too intimate for comfort—­his and possibly Caroline's as well. In which case, he'd be forced to storm out of the bathroom and tackle a man he hadn't seen in half a dozen years.

“I like the way you fight to keep going,” Josh said, his voice just loud enough to reach the bathroom. “That's not easy. I like the way you lick your lips after a bite of pie. And the way you listen to me talk about my brothers and their families.”

“There are plenty of women who would listen to you talk while eating homemade baked goods,” she challenged. “Are you
sure
Noah didn't ask you to drop by? Look out for me?”

“Noah wants me to stay the hell away from you because he's afraid one day, I'll do this.”

Dominic had a pretty good idea what “this” was, but he watched through the crack in the door just in case the man he'd played ball with once or twice growing up tried to take advantage of his close proximity to Caroline.

And yeah, Josh did. But as soon as his lips touched Caroline's, the heels of her combat boots lifted off the ground. From where Dominic stood it looked like she was deepening the kiss. But then she drew back, her fingers lifted to her lips.

“I've waited over a year for that kiss,” Josh said, slipping his hands into his pocket as he moved out of Dominic's line of sight. “I don't care how long I have to wait for the next one. Take all the time you need, Caroline. Your kisses are worth waiting for.”

He heard the door slam and knew that Josh had left. But Caroline stood rooted to the floor, staring straight ahead with her fingers still raised to her mouth.

“Caroline?” Dominic could hear Noah's voice, but couldn't see him. “Are you all right?”

Caroline turned and faced the door leading to the bar. “How much did you overhear?”

“Not a damn thing. We have Isabelle out here demanding to practice her crawling skills on the floor.”

“Liar,” Caroline said.

And Dominic had to bite back a laugh. As far as he knew, Ryan, himself, and now he'd guess Josie, were the only ones who ever called Noah out. His friend had always been the town golden boy, above reproach except to his closest friends.

“It's none of my business either way,” Noah said. “You asked me to stay out of it and I have.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“I also know that if you didn't want him to kiss you, he'd be on the floor howling in pain,” Noah added. “Now come on out when you're ready.”

Caroline marched forward as if following an order, not a request from her friend and boss. He heard the door swing shut, and finally, they were alone again.

He turned to the woman he'd nearly kissed in that room not long before the interruption. Years ago, she'd given him a kiss that promised to bring him back desperate for another. The memory of that moment in his truck had pushed him to achieve more and more. So that when he came back, he'd have something to offer her. A hero for a husband if she still wanted him. A solid foundation that would allow her to follow her heart's desire after so many years of caring for her mother.

He formed a fist with his right hand. He couldn't give her those things now. But she hadn't asked for a hero. Before they'd been interrupted, she'd demanded a kiss. And he didn't want to wait another year, another month, or another day for that offer to come around again.

“Lily.”

She lifted her chin. Her grip had relaxed, but she kept her fingers wrapped around the sink's edge. The position left her chest thrust out and her full breasts pressed against her shirt. Years ago, he'd known how to kiss her, how to touch her, and how to love her. Now, he didn't have a clue. But he suspected one kiss wouldn't be enough.

“You can call me whatever you want. Boyfriend. Bodyguard. I don't care as long as you kiss me. Now. And, honey, I'm not—­”

Lily's body fell against his and it no longer mattered that he hadn't added “waiting a year” to the end of his declaration. She'd moved so fast that he hadn't seen her push off from the counter surrounding the sink.

Her hands ran over his chest, up to his shoulders, and down his arms. Her fingers linked with his as her body pressed close. He groaned as she rose to her tiptoes and her breasts brushed his chest.

We should have gotten naked first.

But then her lips pressed against his and he forgot all about T-­shirts. Sure, her breasts remained front and center in his mind as she drew closer . . . until her lips parted and her tongue touched his.

Lily.

His body responded as if hopeful she might kiss him lower. But they weren't there yet. Not even close.

He pulled his hands free from hers. He had to touch her.
Now.
His palms glided up her arms, over her long-­sleeve T-­shirt to her shoulders, and down her back. Her left leg lifted and wrapped around his waist.

Be a gentleman and help her.

He placed a palm under her thigh, guiding it higher and higher. Maybe he couldn't fire a gun. But his damaged hand had no trouble slipping under the seam of her panties. She'd left her thong at home today. And though he was tempted to check and see if her underwear matched her dark red nails, he couldn't tear his lips away from hers.

He wanted to stay right here, lost in her mouth and the familiar feel of her body rocking against him. Let the outside world fade away. To hell with what he should or shouldn't do.

Like coming home to stay.

She moaned against his mouth as his fingers explored the blond curls between her legs. And the last hold on his control slipped away.

Without breaking their kiss, he guided her back until the sink was at her back. Then he lifted her up and pressed her legs wide. She, in turn, released him and rested her hands on the vanity's edge. She was open, ready, and kissing him like she never wanted to let him go. The desire to take her, claim her, make her
his
again threatened to overwhelm.

Not in a fucking bathroom.

Hell, if he took her right here against the sink or with her back to the walls, the sheetrock beneath would probably give out. But he didn't need to take out a wall to end their visit to the bathroom with a bang.

He held her waist with one hand as his right drew small circles over her inner thigh. His fingers slipped back under her panties. With her lips parted, his thumb found the spot that would drive her straight into the kind of bliss that would leave her screaming—­

“More!” she cried, pulling back from his kiss.

He ran his thumb back and forth, paying attention to the way her hips rocked against his fingers. He ignored the cramping in his hand. He didn't need all of his fingers for this. He just needed to pay attention. A good orgasm was in the details. If he listened to her response, the soft moans, the familiar words, altered his delivery . . .

“Oh . . . my . . . ”

He stole a glance at her face. Lips parted, eyes closed, head thrown back, she looked as if she was lost in pleasure.
And I put her there.
Satisfaction swelled along with another part of his body that would require attention later. After. Right now . . .

Her long ponytail teased the faucet as her back arched and her breasts thrust higher in the air. One of these days, he was going to strip off her long-­sleeve top and touch every damn inch of her.

“Now! Now!” she screamed.

His gaze dropped lower as her bottom lifted off the vanity's edge. Her skirt was bunched around her waist, her legs splayed and open to his touch. He felt her tighten around the fingers he'd slipped inside her as the climax took hold.

“Yes,” she hissed.

Her bottom rose up as her body rode out the pleasure. And her hips reached higher, her feet pressing into the vanity's door. He ran his thumb over her again.

Bang.

Crash.

In one orgasm-­fueled moment, her head hit the mirror hanging over the sink and her feet pushed through the vanity's door. Both came apart under the force of her pleasure. The mirror fell from the wall, hit the edge of the sink, and then crashed to the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw broken glass decorating the toilet seat.

The door to the cabinet below the sink hadn't fared much better. She'd kicked it off its hinges. And yeah, he should probably feel something other than pride that he'd driven her to destruction with a single climax. But . . .

Maybe later when Noah gave him hell for tearing up his bar.

Lily lifted her head and opened her eyes as her hips rested down on the edge of the sink again. He withdrew his fingers and stepped back. His hand had blown past aching to outright pain. And he didn't give a damn.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“That was an amazing kiss,” she murmured.

“Yeah, well, I think they heard it all the way in the bar.”

She laughed, her eyes bright and her face relaxed. Looking at her now, her fear felt like a distant memory. He knew it would return. And when it did . . . he'd bury his face between her legs.

As if she'd followed his thought process down the path marked “oral sex” and realized that one orgasm in the break-­room bathroom was probably enough, she slid off the sink's edge and drew her skirt down her legs.

“The mirror,” she gasped as if she'd just realized the mess they'd made. She looked back at him and laughed. “At least now I know you haven't lost your touch for destructive orgasms.”

“That was all you, honey.”
And my aching dick can back up that fact.