Chapter Eight
“I HAVEN’T BEEN up here in years.” Desiree looked over her shoulder with a pensive yet excited look in her eyes as she and Rick ascended the stairs toward the widow’s walk. She’d loaded him up with pillows and blankets from a closet on the second floor. When they reached the top of the stairs, she stepped into the small cupola and inhaled deeply. “I was afraid to come up here alone, and I can’t guarantee that it’s not rotted out by now.”
“Why were you afraid? The house seems stable despite a few cosmetic things that need attention. I haven’t looked closely, but from what I saw outside, there wasn’t anything that made me think it was in disrepair.”
“It wasn’t that so much as memories. This is where I’d come to be alone. But now that I’m thinking about it, it really could be rotted out.”
He smiled. He glanced out the door, searching the darkness with his contractor’s eye for broken railings or missing balusters. He reached up and flicked the light switch by the door, and dozens of tiny orange lights sparked to life, illuminating a newly renovated, freshly painted widow’s walk. Beautiful ornate balusters supported wide railings. An unusually deep bench, the size of a queen bed, was built into the perimeter, topped with thick colorful cushions.
Desiree latched on to his arm. “Rick,” she said in a shaky voice. “Lizza. She must have done this. The orange lights. That’s my favorite color. When I got here, she was wearing a long orange dress. I thought it was a coincidence.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“She must have done this for you, Des,” he said, his chest full and happy for her. “You said you were the only one who came up here, right?”
“I was. My grandmother told me that my mother used to come up here. That was the reason I first started. To see if I could, I don’t know, get a sense of her.”
He knew all about reaching for someone who wasn’t there. He’d spent a lifetime holding on to a ghost. “And did you? Get a sense of her?”
She shook her head, her eyes clearer now. Shifting the blankets and pillows into one arm, he grabbed the door handle, looking to her for approval. She nodded, and he pushed the door open. Cool air swept over them. Desiree crossed her arms against the chill, and he set the guitar and blankets on the cushions.
“I forgot how much colder it was up here.” She stepped outside and ran her hand along the railings as he closed the door behind them. “It’s so beautiful, but why would she do this? Nothing else in the house has been renovated.” She waved at the bench. “When I was growing up, there was no bench or anything. I’d just throw pillows and blankets on the deck and plop right down.”
She was talking so fast, he knew she was nervous. He set the pillows up against the railing, watching her as she gazed out over the water. The breeze carried her hair away from her face, and she looked even more radiant than usual, despite the part of her that must be coming undone.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “She put a lot of thought into this, Des.”
She turned in his arms, hope and confusion battling in her eyes.
“Sweetheart, I know what it’s like to be reaching for a ghost that always slips through your fingers. What I don’t know, but it seems like you have a chance to find out, is what it’s like to catch one. Don’t let your questions hold you back from feeling all the joy of knowing you’re on her mind a lot more often than you thought.”
Her expression turned serious. “It’s just…Why wouldn’t she tell me she did this, or leave a note, or something?”
“Because maybe she has just as much fear over what it means as you do. Or maybe she’s not the kind of person who leaves notes. I think the important thing is that she’s clearly making some kind of an effort.”
“She’s so crazy. Look how she got me here.” Her forehead wrinkled in contemplation.
“Do you still want to hang out up here?”
“Yes. It’s just a lot to take in.”
A few minutes later they settled against the pillows with their feet stretched out in front of them. He covered their legs with a blanket, and when he put an arm around her, she rested her head on his shoulder.
“It seems like a lifetime ago when I’d sit up here dreaming of my mother surprising me by showing up on a boat, or parachuting onto the beach for a long visit instead of the quick day or two at the end of my summer vacation. Crazy little-girl dreams.”
“Not so crazy, and dreaming is good. After we lost my father, I swore I heard him everywhere. Walking around the house, his voice in the wind, and I’d dream about what I would say to him if he were there. Sometimes I still do.”
“Big-boy dreams,” she said, and tipped her face up toward his. “What was your father like?”
“That depends who you ask.” Love and longing twined together inside him, bringing his truth to life. “To me he was bigger than life. He was aggressive, never let anyone or anything stand in his way. I thought he was indestructible. The strongest, smartest man alive.”
“Like you,” she said. “You come across that way.”
He scoffed. “I’m glad you think so, babe, but he was so much more of a man than me. But like I said, if you ask Mira, she’ll say he was too strict, and Drake thinks he was overzealous, although they both adored him.”
She smiled. “Good word.”
He leaned down and kissed her. “My girl likes me to use the right words.”
“Do you want to talk about him?”
“No.” He kissed her again, but instead of deepening the kiss, he held back. He realized he wanted to share this part of himself with her after all. When their lips parted, he said, “Yes. I’d like to tell you about my father if you’re sure you want to hear it.”
“I do. When we were dancing earlier, you said ‘Sometimes the hardest place to be is where everyone knows you best.’ That’s always been my safest place, with my friends and my father. Last night you said Drake and Dean and your friends were the ones who watched out for you. Aren’t they the same people who know you best?”
He shifted his eyes away, struggling against a wave of emotion.
She took his chin between her fingers and turned his face toward her. “Do you want to let me in?”
“You’re in, Des. You’re in so deep I can’t stop thinking about you.” He clenched his teeth, and she pressed her lips to the tight muscles in his jaw.
“God, everything you do…” He turned on his side so he could look into her eyes. “My father would have liked you. You’re smart and sweet, and strong, and you don’t put on airs. He used to say, ‘Never trust a person who puts on airs, and for God’s sake, don’t marry one.’” He laughed, remembering the way his father’s eyes would turn serious when he’d say that last part. “He was a custom homebuilder, and all I ever wanted was to grow up to be just like him. We used to talk about making Savage Custom Homes into Savage and Son.”
“I love that,” she said. “You followed in his footsteps. I bet he’s smiling down on you every day, so proud of the man you’ve become.”
He swallowed against the ache that had festered inside him for more than a decade and a half. “I’d like to think so. He also taught us other things. How to play the guitar, how to Jet Ski, parasail, surf. You name it, he taught us.”
“A music-loving adrenaline junkie?” she asked.
“I don’t know if it was that as much as he loved life, and he never wanted us to be afraid of anything or let anything hold us back. Although, cliff diving, now, that was a pure adrenaline rush. Maybe he was a bit of an adrenaline junkie.”
“You cliff dive? I’d be afraid to look over a cliff.”
He pulled her closer and kissed her smiling lips. “I’m going to teach you to do all of those things.”
“In your dreams, big boy.”
“Trust me, baby, you’re in my dreams. Although I think you’d be more accurate to call them fantasies.”
She blushed, but her eyes went dark as a forest, and his body ignited. He groaned, and she trapped her lower lip between her teeth.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to stop talking and devour you.”
“Okay,” came out in a rush.
As his mouth came down over hers, she pushed at his chest, laughing. “No. Wait. I want to hear the story.”
“And I want to kiss you,” he said more harshly than he meant to.
“If you kiss me like you usually do, until my brain cells fry and my body turns to butter, I’ll never hear the rest.”
“Baby, you’re killing me. Now I’m thinking of my hands all over you.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And your hands on me.” Her eyes closed, and he kissed each lid. “And my mouth everywhere.”
Her eyes flew open.
“Too much?” Christ, he’d pushed too far.
She shook her head, nodded, and then she shook her head again.
My mixed-messages girl. “Sorry, babe. I’ll tame my eagerness.”
“No,” came out fast and loud, and she clamped her mouth shut, eyes wide. When she spoke again, her voice was husky. “I mean, I like your naughty side, but I want to hear about your father. Hold on. Let me put on my teacher face so you can tell me without wanting to kiss me. Then we can…see about those kisses.”
She held her hand in front of her face, a sexy giggle slipping out, and he breathed deeply, trying to rein in his desires. It was a continuous losing battle. She lowered her hand, eyes serious, her face a mask of patience and calm as she stared at his chin. She lifted her gaze, and the second their eyes met, the space between them electrified.
“Talk fast, Rick,” she said breathlessly.
“Can’t. It’s not a fast subject.”
She trapped that plump lower lip again, nearly dropping him to his knees—literally, between her legs. He was holding on to his control by a thread.
“There’s this thing I do with my really eager students.” She ran her finger down the center of his chest, driving him out of his mind. “I let them run around and get all their energy out so they can concentrate.”
Oh, hell, yes.
She fluttered her long lashes and said, “Maybe we should…”
Their mouths collided in urgent, hungry kisses. He took them deeper, and she eased back on the cushion, moaning loudly. Jesus, fuck. How had he resisted her for this long? Her soft curves molded to his body like nothing he’d ever felt. Pure feminine perfection. She threaded her fingers into his hair and held on tight, bowing up beneath him and rocking against his arousal. His head told him not to make too much of it, but his hands were on a mission, traveling down her hips and taking hold. Damn, he loved everything about her body, the way her hips filled his hands, and her breasts were full and soft against his chest. He needed more of the woman who was making him feel and think and wish for something besides the next big business deal. He slid one hand to the base of her skull, and she tipped her head back, giving him better access to the rest of her.
He didn’t want to miss an inch, and took his time kissing her chin and the column of her neck up and down and around toward her nape, inciting the most lascivious noises from her sexy mouth. When he kissed a path along her breastbone, she arched, offering more, an invitation he didn’t hesitate to take. He licked along the swell of her breasts, wishing he could tear the dress right off her. But she was the best thing that had come into his life for so long, he didn’t want to misread her.
“Rick,” she pleaded, holding his gaze as she tugged at the little bow behind her neck. The fabric drifted over her magnificent breasts, and she pushed it down, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Her eyes were closed, and it was too much. He needed her right there with him, to see her desire in those gorgeous green eyes. “Look at me, sweetheart.”
Her eyes fluttered open, so needful he could drown in them.
“Desiree,” was all he could manage. His heart swelled as if he’d been given the greatest gift of all. Her trust.
DESIREE WANTED RICK like she’d never wanted anything in her life. He was real, and passionate, and so very attentive and careful while still being insanely rugged, all of which made her want to take and be taken. His mouth claimed hers, spread heat like wildfire through her core, her limbs, to the very tips of her toes. When he took her lower lip between his teeth, tugging gently, his coal-black eyes bored into her, unleashing some kind of inner beast, and she gave in to the lust coursing through her. She arched back, pushing him lower, wanting his hot, talented mouth to drive her even crazier.
He kissed his way down her body. Every touch of his lips made her insides quiver, and when his tongue glided along her breast and around her nipple, she dug her fingers into his shoulders, hoping for more. But he continued his relentless tease, licking around and over the tight, burning peak, allowing the cool night air to brush over her damp skin, prickling like hot needles—incredibly enticing hot needles that darted down between her legs. She squirmed as his big, rough hands moved over her hips, her breasts, and finally his mouth closed over the needy peak. Fireworks exploded inside her as he sucked and teased and shifted his body so he was lying half on and half off her, his thigh resting on hers while his other hand explored her thigh.
Oh God, yes. Touch me. Please touch me.
His hand moved beneath her dress, his thumb brushing over her panties, and she inhaled sharply at the titillating touch.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. Begged! She’d never begged for a darn thing in her life, but she wasn’t ashamed. This man…Lord, this man had her strung so tight she was sure she was going to explode.
He pressed a kiss to her other breast and gave it the same mind-numbing attention. His hand moved up and down her thigh, and she held on to his biceps to keep from guiding his hand where she desperately needed it, because his touch was too exhilarating. She loved the feel of his hot palm moving over her skin, making her wet and greedy. His thumb brushed over her panties again, and her body thrummed, her anticipation climbing to impossible heights. Was it possible to orgasm from nothing more than this? Because she was that close. And then his thumb pushed beneath her panties, over her wetness, and holy fricking hell! She moaned, rocking up against that thick digit, wanting it inside her. He rose from her breast and captured her mouth in a demanding kiss, and she wanted his demands. No man had ever elicited this type of overwhelming response. Not even close.
He eased the kiss as his hand traveled up her hip again and pushed beneath her panties from the top down, his fingers moving in a hypnotizing rhythm between her legs. Yes. God, yes. The kiss was tender, slow, and loving, at odds with his quick fingers skating over her most sensitive nerves time and time again. She couldn’t think as his tongue swept over hers and his fingers made her insides swell and throb and soar right up to the brink of madness. She held on to him so tight she didn’t know where he ended and she began. The kiss intensified, rough and deep, and somehow sweet, all at once, and she was utterly and completely lost in him. He pushed his fingers inside her, sending electric currents tearing through her, and masterfully sent her spiraling into ecstasy. A stream of unfamiliar sounds sailed from her lips, but he still didn’t break the kiss, didn’t stop his exquisite pursuit of making her lose her mind. Her climax went on and on, and when she finally came down from the peak, he withdrew from inside her and teased her overly sensitive nerves, making her practically spring off the bench.
“Rick. Rick. Rick,” she panted out.
He brushed his lips over hers and said, “Go with it, baby.”
Oh, that gravelly voice! She was going with it, all right, full speed ahead.
She grabbed his head, and he reclaimed her breast, teasing her with his teeth this time and bringing even more scintillating sensations before moving lower and pushing her dress up. He kissed her belly, her ribs, the tender area above her panties. She held her breath, wanting, and a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous, as he grabbed hold of her panties with his teeth and his eyes found hers. The hunger in his gaze, while visually seeking permission, unraveled her. No part of her wanted him to stop. She pushed at her panties, helping him take them off.
His strong hands splayed over her thighs, and her knees fell open as he repositioned himself between them. And then his mouth was on her, covering her sex, making love to her with his tongue, his hand bringing even more pleasure. The strength of his hands and mouth, and the guttural, appreciative noises he made, sent her careening into oblivion once again, and she cried out. He stayed right there with her, and as she came down from the clouds, his mouth covered hers, his arousal pressing temptingly against her leg.
He held her close, gazing lovingly into her eyes. “I love kissing you, sweetheart.”
His kisses turned soft, like tiny treasures he pressed to her lips, her cheeks, her chin, as she lay relaxed and sated in his arms. Without a word, he righted and tied her halter, smoothed her dress over her thighs, and pulled a blanket around them as she snuggled in closer. Energy deliciously depleted, maybe now she could focus on talking.