Author: Robyn Carr
And it appeared they’d be having coffee with these folks for a long time.
Her cell phone rang and she grabbed it in a panic. It was Landon. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Everything is fine,” he answered with a laugh. “Can Mercy have some ice cream before bed?”
She was speechless. “Oh, sure,” she said. “Not too much, though—we don’t want a bellyache. How is she behaving?”
“She’s good. We’re playing a little Candy Land. And eating ice cream.”
“Okay. Thanks for calling.”
She just gave a smile and nod to Spencer’s questioning eyes. And then the men continued to talk football. It made her smile to herself—any other woman would probably say, “Nice date, buster.” But Devon was so reassured by the easy acceptance and sincere camaraderie.
Finally, reaching for Devon’s hand across the table, Spencer said, “Much as I’d like to hang around, Devon’s got a sitter and we should probably get going.”
“Right. Sure.” Cliff pushed back his chair, the waiter stood up, one of the bar patrons gave a nod.
“Tell you what—I’ll stop by for a beer one of these days. We’ll carry on this discussion later,” Spencer said.
“You do that,” Cliff said, sticking out his hand. And then he nodded. “Take care, Devon. See you around.”
“You bet.”
She let him hold her hand on the way into the parking lot. He stopped beside his truck and put his hands on her waist. “You were a very good sport about that.”
“I had fun. I think you’re the most important person in town. At least during football season.”
“It was obvious right away the town gets behind all the school events. And they love their football.” He pulled her closer. “Walk on the beach? Feel the need to get home? My place?”
She touched his cheek with her palm. “How about your house.”
Thirteen
Spencer had left on only a dim kitchen light. He pulled Devon in the door and it was barely closed when he pulled her close and just held her for a moment. He looked at her in the faint light, touching her face softly, gently. The light bounced off her golden hair and her blue eyes twinkled. He touched her lips with a finger. “This is as alone as we’ve ever been, I think.”
She nodded, slipping her arms around his waist.
He kissed her lightly on the lips. Then her forehead, her chin, her cheek, her neck, her ear. Then he was on her lips again, but his touch was so tender, almost hesitant. And he was kissing her slowly, very slowly. His fingers were in her short hair, running it back from her face, sweet and tempting, kiss after kiss. And then he licked her lips open and took her mouth firmly, but his touch was still achingly slow, gentle.
He pulled away a half inch. “What do you think?”
“I think...yes.”
He smiled into her pretty eyes. His hands circled her waist while hers went around his neck and he lifted her off her feet, straight up, so that she was looking down into his eyes. “What do you think?” she asked him in a whisper.
“I was at yes a long time ago.”
She put her hands against his rough cheeks and kissed him, deep and hard. Tongues played and he reminded himself for the hundredth time, Easy, young man. It had been so long since he’d held a woman with the intention of making love. Years, possibly. He was already aroused. No surprise there, he’d been aroused since the first week he’d known her. In fact, the minute he’d seen her transformation from overalls and a long braid to more fitted clothes and that sexy, floppy short hair, he’d wanted to get his hands all over her.
He walked toward his bedroom while she clung to his neck. He put her feet on the floor, sat her down on the bed, then went down on one knee to take off her shoes. He kicked off his own and rolled with her onto the bed, claiming her mouth now with more power. “I’ll go slow,” he said softly. “We’ll take our time with this.” Then he wondered if he was saying this for her benefit or his own. Since he was desperately close to wanting to ravage her completely, he wondered if he would be able to make good on the promise he’d just made.
But he wouldn’t allow himself to even fantasize about taking her hard and fast. If he ever wanted to see her again, be with her again, he was determined to make her feel safe, good, right. Satisfied. Respected. Cared for. And with that in mind, he started touching her perfect breasts on the outside of her clothing while the zipper in his jeans threatened to break wide open.
And God bless her, she began touching him, his chest, his hip, his denim-clad erection. And he groaned with equal parts misery and jubilation. She unbuttoned his shirt so she could caress his chest and he slid his hands under her shirt. He hadn’t lost his touch—he had that bra clasp opened in one flick.
And he heard her softly laugh right before she claimed his mouth again.
He felt like a randy teenage boy, wondering how far she would go, how far he should go. He unsnapped her jeans and with his hands on her hips, began to push them down. She lifted her hips a bit to help and in spite of himself, he growled deep in his throat. When she kicked off the jeans, his hand instantly went to her panty-covered crotch while he dove at her neck, licking, sucking, moaning. She was a little damp and he thought, Yes!
With no more thoughts of an inexperienced teenager, he pulled her shirt up and away, made the bra disappear and slid those panties off. Holding her breasts in his hands, he licked one, then the other, his hand parked on her mound, one finger sliding a little deeper, massaging, circling, testing.
So ready...
He felt her tugging at his jeans and he said, “Got it,” and stripped off his clothes as quickly as he could. He gave his throbbing member a rub and she brushed his hands away and put her own on him. That growl came out of him again and he pulled her close. “Oh,” she said. Then she said, “Mmm,” and massaged him, gently at first, then with more strength.
He rose over her, took her mouth in a long, deep kiss and said, “I meant to go slowly for you.”
“We can go slowly later.”
He smiled. “You think so, huh?”
“I want to feel you inside.”
He rolled away briefly, just long enough to reach into the bedside table and get a condom. He had it applied in record time and he was over her again, pushing her down onto the bed, edging her legs apart with a knee, probing gently. And then he pushed inside in one long, slow, fluid motion. He held still inside her, listening to her breathing—deep and rapid. She dug her heels into the bed and pushed against him.
He brushed her hair back from her forehead. “Okay?”
“Very okay.” She wiggled a little bit beneath him.
Okay, he thought. And he began to move, slowly at first, holding her mouth, then her nipple, then the other nipple, sliding in and out. He grabbed her butt and shifted their angle so that he’d be connecting with her clitoris; he picked up speed and she began to moan and gasp loudly, fiercely, gripping his shoulders, digging her nails into him, riding him as he rode her. “Come for me, baby. Come for me.”
She threw her head back, her eyes rolled back, she pushed against him so powerfully she nearly lifted him, and it came. She closed around him, pulsing, drowning him in liquid heat. “Like that,” he whispered. “Just like that.” He kept at her until the pulsing slowly ebbed, until she began to relax beneath him, and then he went after her with all the passion he’d been storing, three, four, five hard strokes.... And he was overcome. His eyes watered; he ground his teeth; he throbbed himself empty. It was beyond what he had remembered.
He held himself over her, mindful not to crush her with his weight. It took a few moments for him to catch his breath, to open his eyes, to see her smiling up at him.
“Like that,” she whispered. She smoothed her hand from his cheek to his neck. “Just like that.”
He smiled at her. “We did that pretty well for a first time.”
“My toes curled,” she said. “I think maybe I had a blackout.”
He laughed. “You all right?”
“I’m very all right. You?”
“I’m going to probably be a pest now,” he warned her. “It’s going to be even harder to be away from you.”
“That’s okay, Spencer. I’m happiest when we’re together.”
Spencer pulled the cover over them and Devon lay in his arms, her head against his shoulder. She’d been so worried, so nervous, and she needn’t have been. Spencer loved her in a way that made her feel crazed with desire and yet cherished. She turned her head and looked up at him. “Spencer, what does it mean to you when you make love with someone?”
He seemed to consider this for a moment. “Do you want the real honest answer?”
“Of course! Please!”
“Well,” he said, gently stroking her back, running his fingers down her spine, “in younger days, before I found a woman I wanted to commit to, it meant pleasure. It meant getting deeper, excuse the pun.”
She couldn’t help it, she giggled a little.
“I hear there are a lot of dogs out there who will sleep with any woman. I was never cursed...or blessed...with that quality. Sex was always important to me. Meaningful. I always hoped I’d found someone I could love with a purpose. It didn’t always work out for me, and it wasn’t always my choice, either. I had some short flings where I wasn’t the right man for her. I had a few longer affairs that sputtered out and it was no one’s fault.”
“And with me?” she boldly asked.
“I think you know.” He leaned over and kissed her brow. “I’m falling in love with you.”
“Isn’t it a bit soon for that?”
“Soon? We’ve known each other two months. I painted your kitchen. I don’t go around painting kitchens for women I don’t care about. I’ve been alternately trying to stay away from you and trying to get closer to you since June.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “You were trying to stay away from me?”
“I wasn’t exactly successful at that....”
“But why, Spencer?”
“Besides worrying that I wasn’t ready? That I could be rebounding after Bridget’s death? You were secretive. Mysterious. Obviously a little frightened and of what, I wasn’t entirely sure. But it isn’t too soon and I’m not rebounding and I can wait until you’re ready to talk about what happened to you because over the past few weeks I’ve come to the conclusion that whatever you’re keeping to yourself is a very small piece of who you are.”
“It already seems so long ago and far away, and yet something will happen like the appearance of that black SUV and I worry that it will be lurking forever. I’m ready to tell you anything you want to know.”
He smiled at her. “Is that so?”
She nodded. She whispered the story of how an offer of help had turned into four years and a child in a commune with a morally superior cult leader. She explained how her desperation for safety and comfort and well-being had seduced her into believing in him and turning over her independence, her soul.
“Did you love him? A little bit?” he asked when she’d told him the full story.
“It passed very quickly. If you love a person who’s using you, you’re sicker than he is.”
“And you ran,” Spencer said.
“I had a brief window of opportunity and had to take it. There might not have been another chance and I was a little afraid that what he said was true—that some government agency would take Mercy from me and send me to jail for being a part of his illegal operation.”
“And now?”
“Mac doesn’t think there’s any danger of that, but I’m going to have to cooperate with anyone who wants information that might lead to his arrest. He’s guilty of a lot.”