Chapter Eleven
Being kissed by Sawyer Hartwell wasn’t at all the way she’d dreamed it would be. And yes, she’d dreamed. Hot, sweaty, passionate dreams where the kisses were savage, leading right to clothes being torn, buttons sent flying, panties left in tatters. She’d expected him to be all soldier-on-a-mission, one where victory was determined by how quickly he could ratchet her up, then drive her straight over the edge.
She supposed she should have known Mr. Master Sergeant Special Forces would be far, far stealthier than that. And with his stealth, wreak far greater havoc on her body . . . and quite shockingly, her heart.
He laid claim; let there be no doubt about that. He was confident, but not forceful, skilled but not overly practiced, but his most decimating talent was that he paid attention . . . such close, close attention. If she gasped, he heard it, repeated what had caused it. If she sighed and parted her lips, he didn’t immediately dive in. No, he made her sigh again, then again, until she was seeking his tongue, inviting him inside, all but begging his entry. If she relaxed into him, just a little maybe, he eased himself around her, steadying her, supporting her, inviting her to simply let go and don’t you worry . . . I’ll take care of the rest.
And oh . . . did he.
She wanted to be more in control, or at least share some part of deciding how this was going to go, where it was going to lead. But she was basically clinging to him, too busy being swept along on every ripple of sensation, shivering with ever-heightening awareness, moaning softly as he continued to explore her mouth like he’d discovered one of the Seven Wonders of the World. The pleasure she felt was intoxicating and all consuming. And they were just kissing.
He framed her face with those broad, strong palms of his, and angled her mouth so he could claim every last part of it. She was whimpering now, wanting his hands pressed to far more feverish places, exploring them the way his tongue was exploring the recesses of her mouth. As if reading her mind, and at this point, she was fairly convinced they were kinetically connected, he slid his hands to her shoulders, then down her arms. It wasn’t until he lifted his head and gently set her a step back that she dazedly realized she’d all but entwined herself around him.
Feeling suddenly embarrassed by her very atypical display of clinging, wanton neediness she quickly lifted one hand to smooth her hair and the other to dry her damp lips. She turned away from him in hopes of gathering whatever remnants of her dignity might remain, only he caught her hand and gently tugged her back close. So close she had to look straight up to make eye contact. So close their bodies brushed, which only served to ignite her response to him like a match to fresh tinder. She tried to look away, to step back, but he kept her right there.
“We were both in it,” he said quietly, speaking barely above a gruff whisper. He might as well have been stroking her skin with his tongue the way his words reverberated so clearly, so sharply inside of her. “Hell, you’ve been doing that to me since almost the moment I met you.”
She realized when he broke off just how silent the air was. The absolute quiet was almost deafening in the complete absence of sound. No birds, no frogs . . . it was as if the universe had lifted its finger to its lips and shushed every living thing. Even the breeze had stilled. Rather than make her feel alone or isolated, she felt wrapped up in it like a cocoon, snug and at peace.
If only. Every nerve ending she possessed was still in full riot mode.
“Yes,” she finally said, hating to break the silence, to put any more energy into the air. “But I don’t normally go around—”
He tipped her chin up then, and what breath she had left caught right in her chest. His eyes were so beautiful, the intensity she saw there so palpable, it made her throat go tight. “You might not normally, and I might not normally, but we just did. It was honest, and . . .” He trailed off, and then his handsome face split into a wild, sexy grin that made her heart stutter. “Hotter than the desert at high noon.” He laughed, and his eyes danced with merriment and not a little challenge. “There’s no shame in that, Sunny.”
“No,” she said, taking it in, taking him in. And he was a lot to take in. “You—you’re right,” she said, then found herself just as suddenly smiling with him, and laughing. “It just went from zero to sixty like . . .” She trailed off, having no words for the effect he had on her.
“Look,” he said suddenly, pointing up.
She glanced skyward and saw the celestial trail of a shooting star. She hummed in approval. “Like a shooting star,” she murmured, more to herself, than to him. She didn’t really want to think about what they might have just started. Especially coming right on the heels of agreeing to keep things at the friendship level. The reasons for that quite rationally achieved decision hadn’t changed.
Then he was shifting her around so he could pull her into his arms with her back against his chest. He wrapped big arms around her and she wrapped hers over his as they both looked skyward, watching the stars continue winking to life. Standing there like that, fitting so perfectly in the shelter of his body, her head tipped back against his shoulder, felt too good, too delicious, to resist. So, for a moment anyway, she didn’t. She relaxed and took in his warmth, breathed in the scent of his soap, of his freshly laundered shirt . . . of Sawyer.
She wasn’t used to being with someone who was so much taller than she, so much bigger. If the quiet had made her feel cocooned, being held by him only amplified that sense further. He made her feel safe, cared for . . . cosseted. And she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a long-buried part of her that had yearned to feel that way for as long as she could remember. It was all the more soothing because she was no longer a child wanting to be held by her parent, and he wasn’t offering simply an innocent hug or a comforting kiss to the cheek.
She didn’t honestly know what he was offering her, but for that moment, this was far more than she’d anticipated ever having. She could have stood there, just like that, for as long as her legs were able. And at the same time, she wanted to squirm right out of her clothes and beg him to put his hands on her almost as badly as she wanted her next breath.
She was so damn confused and turned on and . . . confused.
“It can just be this,” he said, once again dipping in to her thoughts.
She realized it was probably because his mind had followed a similar path. It was comforting to know she wasn’t alone and, at the same time, made it that much harder to do what she knew—what they both knew—they had to do. “That would be the wise course of action,” she agreed.
He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck, making her moan softly and instantly tip her chin to the side, allowing him greater access. “And this,” he murmured.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Definitely this.”
He nudged her hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck, which sent little sparks of pulsing heat racing down her spine.
She felt him grin against her skin. “Sweet spot.”
“Maybe,” she managed, then immediately shivered in pleasure when he grazed his teeth over the same place.
He turned her to face him, said, “Hold on,” then hiked her body up against his and held her there as if she was a featherweight, which she most definitely was not. He clamped one strong arm around her hips and used his free hand to release the catch on the tailgate at the foot of the truck.
It squealed and thumped down flat, making her cringe and laugh at the same time. “Sawyer—”
“It’s dusty, but nothing that won’t wash out,” he said as he sat her on the lowered gate, then stepped into the vee of her legs, urging her to snug them around his thighs.
She’d like to say she took a moment to contemplate the wisdom of letting this go even a fraction further, but he was already leaning down to kiss her again and her arms were already so conveniently around his neck. Somehow her fingers found their way into the hair at the nape of his neck, and then his lips were once again a breath away from hers.
“Just this once,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to her.
“Mmm,” she agreed, her lips brushing his.
Then he was opening her mouth again, and it felt like her entire body was opening up to him when she took him inside. His fingers dug into her hips as he tugged her closer, and she gasped when the rigid result of all this foreplay pressed quite intently against the part of her that wanted it most. She curled her heels around the back of his thighs and kissed him back. Now it was his turn to groan and she felt his blunt fingertips dig almost reflexively into the softness of her hips as he struggled with the same wants and desires that were flooding every fiber of her being, begging her to give in to their demands. Everything they wanted was right there for the taking, for the having. Oh, she wanted to have him. Every broad shouldered, bunched bicep, rock hard and rigid inch of him.
There was a moment when she thought Just take this, do this, have this—have him—then you’ll be over it and you can stop wondering. No harm, no foul.
Then she made the mistake of opening her eyes when he lifted his head to take a breath and found him looking so intently at her, all the same turmoil she was struggling with clearly there in his eyes for her to see. Perversely, it was his struggle, not hers, that snapped her back to reality. She leaned back just enough to hold his gaze more directly, then let her legs relax and her heels swing down again. “I don’t know if I can do this just once,” she said, as baldly honest as she’d ever been.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a sexy rumble now that made her curl her fingers inward to keep from grabbing him and pulling him right back where he’d been moments ago. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Dear sweet goodness, she ached with wanting him, an ache made all the more painful for knowing he wanted the same damn thing and every bit as badly as she did.
“Sunny—”
“It’s not just because of Bailey,” she said quickly, before she caved, and took him with her. “Or my life being three hours and a hundred plus miles away from here. It’s that I finally have the chance to go after what I want. And you’re here doing the exact same thing. We’re in a good place in life, each of us. So good.” She pushed her hair from her face, her cheeks still heated, her lips feeling the effects of his kisses. “This is exciting and thrilling, and not a little intoxicating, but—”
“You don’t gamble away the good for the momentary thrill,” he finished for her.
She nodded, then let out a laugh that wasn’t entirely a happy one. “And the fact that you keep getting inside my head and thinking exactly the same thing I’m thinking isn’t helping.”
“Sorry?” he said, his own smile a shade wry.
She shook her head, still smiling. She looked up at the sky, felt the punch of the grandeur splayed out above her, the enormity of it all, and felt so tiny and insignificant by comparison. With the entire universe on display, how bad could her problems be?
“Helps put things in perspective, doesn’t it?” he said.
She nudged the side of his leg, giving him a sideways smile. “Get out of my head, Sawyer Hartwell.”
He took her hands and helped her slide down from the truck gate. “It wasn’t your head I was trying to get inside of,” he teased, and reached around her to help dust off the back of her coat.
Purely out of self-preservation, she finally made herself step around the side of the truck and away from his touch. “I should probably be getting back to Addie’s,” she said by way of response. “I—I can go over everything with her tomorrow before heading out.” She glanced at him, found him looking at her, and for once, his expression was unreadable. “If you’d like to be part of that, we could come to the mill maybe. Once Bailey is at school.”
“You in a hurry to leave?”
“No,” she said, surprising herself with that bit of truth. And not just because she wasn’t quite done basking in the glow he so effortlessly created. “But I wasn’t planning on spending that much time. Tomorrow is my only free day for the next week and I can’t—”
He lifted a hand and sounded calm, steady, when he spoke. “Not a problem. If you and Addie wouldn’t mind coming by the mill, I would like to hear the particulars of the trust. I’d also like to give you a set of the plans. You should have a record of what’s being done. You can show them to your lawyer if you think that it means changing anything in the trust. I’ll sign whatever needs signing, so you’re covered, legally, in case anything unforeseen happens at the mill.”
She nodded. “I appreciate that.”
“I appreciate your not creating any obstacles to the renovation.”
God, they were being so . . . rational, so responsible, so adult. It made her want to scream. It made her want to fling herself back into his arms and beg him to take her back to that mindless place that was all about feeling, and needing, and wanting . . . and leave all this responsible adulting stuff until later. Much, much later. She was so sick and tired of being responsible.
But that’s what she did, wasn’t it? That was her role. Some things never do change. “I have no interest in making things difficult,” she told him truthfully. She just wished difficult didn’t come with this particular territory. “Quite the opposite. I want to do right by Bailey, and otherwise I will stay out of your hair. You’re doing a good thing. I’ll also be honest and say I’m glad you don’t expect or want anything from me where the renovation is concerned. Win-win.” See, she told herself. We can be friendly, do our business, get back to our lives. “You know, maybe this was a good thing,” she added, the words out before she could think them through first.
“This?”
She motioned between them. “Yes, this. Probably just as well we went there, briefly anyway, so we wouldn’t always wonder about it.”
Something flashed across his face, but in the shadows, she couldn’t tell what. His expression was unreadable. “Probably,” he agreed, but for once, he didn’t sound like he was being completely forthright.
Well, that wasn’t her concern. Or couldn’t be, anyway. She had to look out for herself. And wasn’t it grand that she only had herself to look out for, for a change? Don’t complicate that, Sunny. Revel in it.
“So, I guess friends with benefits is out?” He immediately lifted his hand, laughing when her mouth dropped open. “Kidding.” He waited a beat. “Mostly.” He smiled then. “Too soon?”
She found herself smiling with him. She wished his teasing made her feel like things were back on track. Instead it made her want him like she wanted her next breath. “Actually, if I thought I could handle it . . .” Now it was her turn to laugh outright when his expression went momentarily slack. “Alas, I’m not cut out that way,” she hurried on to say, quite sincere now. “Trust me, over the years, my social life would likely have been a lot more entertaining, not to mention my stress level greatly reduced, if I’d been able to get the hang of letting sex be just a physical thing.” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture and found herself being baldly honest with him again, thinking how funny it was that she’d been more open, more honest, more frank with him, than she’d ever been with anyone else. “But no, I pretty much suck at not getting emotionally involved.”
“I can’t fault you there,” he said, smiling with her. “I also can’t lie and say I didn’t work at it maybe a little harder than you did.” His grin returned, and she thought she caught that twinkle in his eyes when he added, “When I was on leave, sex was fairly high on the to-do list.” The smile faded, and his tone sobered. “For me, the emotional entanglement part wasn’t my Achilles’ heel. But, what I found was that, after a time, the lack of it made the physical part less fulfilling.” Now he lifted his hands, then let them drop to his sides again. “Going for any more than that didn’t seem fair, though, knowing I was going right back to another mission, another tour.”
She tilted her head, studied him.
His laugh was a little self-conscious, which was entirely endearing. Like he wasn’t enough of that already. “What?” he asked, when her smile spread to a grin.
“Nothing. Just that I appreciate your candor. A lot of men—most, maybe—would have trotted out some sympathetic b.s. designed to lower my defenses. Your experience rings more true.” She laughed. “And probably did an even better job without your even trying.”
He wiggled his eyebrows and twirled an imaginary mustache. “She’s on to my evil plan.”
“Seems kind of cruel, then, really, you know?”
“Meaning?”
“You’re no longer married to the Army. I’m no longer married to being a caregiver. And we still can’t just jump.” She sighed. “Well, we could, but . . .”
“I know. And yes, that whole universe thing. Like I said, sometimes it’s the thing we can’t have that makes us examine what we do want more closely, commit to it more firmly.”
There was a long pause; then they both broke out laughing.
“Yeah, I wasn’t buying that, either,” he said. He closed the tailgate of the truck. “Come on. I’ll get you back up to Addie’s. We have an early start at the mill in the morning. I’ve got a bunch of guys showing up at the crack of crack.”
“Did you finish the roof? I really like the look of that slate.”
He nodded. “We did. And I dug up drawings and photographs of the mill, back from the beginning. Slate was used in one of the earlier incarnations. I’m guessing it got too expensive when times grew lean. But it will hold up longer than the tin, and it has the added benefit of not being so loud when the rain beats on it.”
“Wise,” she said. “I wondered if the stone was historically accurate. I liked the look of the tin panels, too, but the slate . . . it’s just beautiful.” Sunny paused before heading to the passenger side door, and held his gaze. “Thank you for bringing me here. For sharing this very special place with me. You know this is right for you, so you don’t need to hear it from me. But . . .” She took a moment to scan the full vista, looking at the ring of shadowy mountain tops, then up to the moon that had finally risen above their smooth peaks. She let out a long, cleansing breath. “You’re very fortunate to have found such a perfect fit.”
“Yes,” he said quietly, standing right behind her. “Yes, I have.”
She thought she felt him lean down and brush a kiss against her hair, but it was probably the wind rustling a few strands. She didn’t look back, afraid of what she might see. Or, more truthfully, what she might not.