Chapter Sixteen
The next few days rolled by in a hot summer haze of sex, food, and dog lessons. It was bliss for Cara, especially as she tried her best to ignore the inevitable expiration date that loomed.
For starters, just three nights after their dinner date, Henry demonstrated his quick learning by sitting on each corner before crossing the street during the training walk.
Then they returned to her house, where she fed Travis her risotto with snap peas. The addition of dinner to their fling happened naturally, like a new unwritten item on the daily agenda, and one that suited them both. A working man, with a working man’s appetite, Travis liked to eat. Cooking was one of Cara’s true passions, and having someone to share a dish with made it all the better.
“What are you doing to me, woman?” he said as he finished the first serving and ladled a second one onto his plate. “Your cooking is too good.”
She beamed, and after the dishes were washed and put away, he showed her other uses for her kitchen counter. Amazing how that surface provided the perfect angle and height for multiple orgasms. Or maybe it was just that Travis had made it his specialty to deliver them to her.
By the next Monday, Henry had started to come when called, an important milestone for a dog’s training. To celebrate, Cara whipped up fettuccine with figs and goat cheese.
“You’ve put a voodoo hex on me by making me like food that doesn’t have meat,” Travis declared, as he finished a fig while they ate dinner on the deck.
“You’ve figured me out.”
“Did you learn all this from the Food Network?” he asked, gesturing to the dishes on the table.
She nodded. “Amazing what TV can teach you.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “And you sure you weren’t just watching for Bobby Flay? Admit it, you had a crush on him,” he said, staring at her intensely, as if she’d reveal a secret.
She laughed and shook her head. “I swear I only watch for the food. As a matter of fact, I learned how to make the best eggplant Parmesan in the world from Mr. Flay. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll make that after the next lesson.”
He placed his hands together as if praying. “I’m a lucky man. My dog is learning how to steal the show when he goes on stage, and you’re feeding me the best meals ever. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you? Well, besides make you come more times than you can count,” he said with a wink as he polished off his dinner.
She leaned forward in her chair, letting her long hair brush against his arm, knowing that undid him. He groaned, low and raspy, giving away his quick rise on the scale of desire. “That seems pretty reasonable,” she said in her best sultry voice. “But since you asked, my dryer has been rattling loudly on the high efficiency cycle. Can you fix it?”
Twenty minutes later, the dryer was remarkably silent as it tumbled through clothes, and Cara was loud as can be as he showed her how highly efficient he was at cycling through all the non-bed surfaces in her house.
After he left that night, she locked the door and hummed a Jane Black tune as she wandered into the kitchen to turn on the dishwasher. For the briefest of moments, she imagined he was still here, brushing his teeth in the master bathroom, sliding under the sheets, waiting for her. She pictured returning to him, night after night, doing all these domestic things together, and then all the dirty things after dark, too.
Everything.
The images were so intoxicating to her commitment-craving heart that they started to feel real, like she could have this kind of life with him.
“Don’t be foolish,” she muttered.
She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she were waking herself from a dream. That fantasy life with him could never happen with him. She had to practice some self-control.
She stabbed the start button on the dishwasher, shaking her head in disgust at her runaway thoughts. Here she was, playing house with him, feeding him, treating him like he was on the path to becoming the man of her future. But he was merely the man of the present, and she needed to keep him in that box. This kind of affair was a tropical vacation. It was waterfalls and lagoons, hammocks and aquamarine waters. Blissful, intoxicating, and also completely illusory. It was ticking ever closer to the end, and in a week she’d reenter reality.
She picked up her phone from the kitchen table and scrolled through messages from clients, answering a few before bed. She spotted a note from Joe. The nice guy. The one who actually wanted a future.
Looking forward to seeing you soon. Still up for ‘Dinner, Take Two’? No more bad jokes from me. I’ve got all new material.
She laughed lightly. He had a decent sense of humor. He was kind. She wrote back to confirm their next date. “Looking forward to seeing you next Tuesday! Can’t wait to hear the new material. I bet it’s fab!”
As she added the date to her calendar, she noted that dinner with Joe fell two days after the fireman’s auction.
Perfect timing. The scheduled date kept her on the straight and narrow, blinders on, her focus solely on what it should always have been with Travis—living life for the present, so she could move forward into a new future with someone else.
For a few more days, she had the lease on Travis Jansen, and she intended to use it to the fullest. Soon, so very soon, he’d be gone from her head and her heart.
He had to be.
…
The days flew by so fast that Travis wished he could stop time.
He hated for this to end, because a fling with Cara was the greatest thing ever known to man.
Hell, he’d like to exist forever in this bubble of mind-blowing sex, eye-rollingly delicious food, and fantastically-good time spent with the prettiest, sharpest, sweetest woman in the world.
That woman had also worked wonders with his dog. In a short time, Henry had transformed into a model canine citizen, and Travis had become addicted to Cara’s cooking.
Okay, fine. He was addicted to her body, too, and to making her come over and over. He couldn’t stop touching her and taking her to new heights. Even though their sell-by date loomed ever closer on the calendar, he had more in mind for the woman he was unable to resist.
They finished the day’s training session with Henry, practicing his “special trick” for the auction in Travis’s driveway. Henry nailed it, and Cara cheered.
“So do I get the eggplant Parmesan now, since Henry has mastered all his obedience lessons?” he asked, as they walked across his lawn.
She smiled faintly but shook her head. “I’d rather skip the meal and go straight to the main attraction. Meaning, let’s just have dessert.”
He groaned appreciatively. She was the tastiest dessert he’d ever had, so tonight’s menu was fine by him. He wanted her food, but he wanted her more, especially when she pressed her body to his the second they reached his front porch. Her hands dipped into the back of his jeans as he fumbled at the lock, then darted around to the front of his briefs as soon as the door opened.
“Damn, you’re a feisty one right now,” he said as he unclipped Henry and dropped the leash by the door. The dog trotted up the steps to his water bowl on the kitchen floor.
“I am, and I want you now,” she said, her eyes glittering with desire.
“Fuck dinner. Fuck food. I want you more than all the eggplant in the universe,” he said roughly as he lowered his mouth to her lips, kissing her hard, and with the kind of pressure that he knew drove her wild. In mere seconds, she was writhing against him in the entryway, wrapping a leg around his thigh. He tugged her closer, kissing her deeply as she moaned and moved with him. He lowered his hands to her ass, so round and curvy that he simply had to smack it.
She yelped playfully.
That was a very good sign. “Evidently, I haven’t spanked you enough. Allow me to rectify that.”
“Oh please do. I insist.”
“Your insistence will be rewarded,” he said, as he smacked her rear. Her eyes lit up like a neon sign blinking more. “You do have the most smackable ass I’ve ever seen. But let’s just slide these off so I can test it for sure,” he said, unzipping her jean shorts. She quickly pushed them down to the floor, leaving them in a denim puddle, and he swatted her once more.
She cried out in pleasure, a gorgeous, sexy moan escaping her ruby red lips. From the living room, it sounded as if Henry had joined in with a bark of his own.
He ignored the dog, because the sight of Cara in front of him, half-naked, and ready for more of his open palm was enticing. Besides, the entryway seemed as good a place as any for a quick round of spanking and fucking, and fucking and spanking. He ran a finger against her mouth, his appetite for her multiplying as she parted her lips and sighed sexily. A flush darkened the bare skin above her tank top.
He craved turning her on, like nothing he’d experienced. He longed to explore every avenue of sex with her, to know her body in every way, even this way—with the slightest bit of pain and pleasure mingled together. But as he dropped his hand once more to swat her rear, Henry voiced his opinion again.
And he had one hell of an opinion.
The Jack Russell barked loudly. It was a demanding sound. A what the hell gives? noise. Travis broke contact to check on him. Henry sat at the top of the stairs, barking with his snout high in the air, the expression on his face one of complete dissatisfaction with the people.
“What the…?”
Then it hit Travis. He had a hunch that Henry wasn’t so fond of what Travis was doing with his palm. Testing the canine, Travis lifted his hand in the air, as if he were about to spank Cara.
The bark turned into a furious howl.
Travis widened his eyes and turned to Cara. She’d clasped her palm over her mouth in surprise.
“Apparently he disapproves of spanking,” he said with a wry smile.
“Quite a bit.”
Travis tipped his head to the dog and joked. “Think you can train that out of him?”
“I can honestly say I’d never had to train a dog to stop barking when a person is being spanked in the heat of the moment,” she said, her lips curved in a naughty grin. “But I know I can figure it out. Just, maybe, not this second. Because I’d rather—”
“Be spanked again?”
“Something like that,” she said suggestively.
“Let me put him in the yard, and I can spank you on my bed.”
She froze when he said that word. Bed. They hadn’t made it to the bed during this fling; that had been intentional. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d suggested it now, or if there was something more to his unexpected change of tune. But before he could try to make sense of it himself, she shook her head, and said, “Let’s trade places with Henry. Leave him in the house. We’ll go outside.”
He wasn’t about to argue with having Cara al fresco, so he grabbed a towel from the linen closet and headed outside, shutting the door behind him, leaving Henry to stare forlornly at the sliding glass.
His fence was high and neighbors shouldn’t be able to see, but even if they did, he honestly didn’t care. Not when Cara tugged off her tank top, unsnapped her bra, and stepped out of her panties in less than ten seconds.
She worked his zipper down as he grabbed a condom from his pocket. Soon, they were both in full birthday suits, the warm air on their skin. She dropped to her hands and knees, presenting her creamy skin for another swatting. He happily obliged, once, twice, three times, savoring her heated reaction to each smack. He didn’t hit her hard; he used just the right amount of pressure to make her moan and wriggle. Then he smoothed his hand over her backside, rubbing out the sting. His fingers darted between her legs.
Oh fuck. She was liquid. Need slammed into him when he felt her wetness. “You’re so turned on right now, aren’t you?” The question was a rhetorical one, because the evidence was incontrovertible.
“Everything you do turns me on, Travis,” she said, looking back at him, the expression in her eyes both lustful and trusting. God, she was stunning, so confident and so honest with her own sexuality. It floored him and stoked his desire at the same time.
“You’ve been bad enough. I have to be inside you now,” he said, then wasted no time rolling on the condom. He gripped her hips and sank into her.
A tremor of intense pleasure rolled through him as he filled her completely.
They both moaned in unison.
Then he took her.
He held on tight, driving into her furiously, sinking as deep into her as he could go. The sound of their bodies slapping together urged him on. His blood roared, his heart pounded, her moans triggering a fresh round of pleasure in his body.
There was nothing else in the world but this animalistic fever as he thrust faster, harder, deeper. He reached for her hair, twisting it in his fist and gripping hard. He slinked his other hand around her waist, dropping it between her legs as he thrust. He rubbed her clit, coaxing an orgasm from her as she cried out, “I’m coming.”
Then, he pulled her up, so he was sitting on his knees and they were both upright as he thrust into her like that. Her body aligned beautifully with his. He swore he’d never experienced anything like this connection before. The intensity blew his mind. It torched his body. In his arms, she was his completely, and that’s where he wanted her, chasing the edge of bliss with him and him alone.
“We fucking fit perfectly, don’t we?” he said roughly in her ear as his spine ignited with the start of his own climax.
“So perfectly,” she echoed as she rocked back and he drove into her, coming with her in a cacophony of moans and groans and cries.
Soon, he eased out, looped his arms around her, and tugged her in close, pulling her next to him on the towel. She sighed, a lovely, contented sound that warmed his heart.
He blinked.
That was strange. It was utterly weird to switch from that kind of furious fucking, to this kind of cuddling. Funny, how he could go from claiming her like a wild man—they were goddamn animals screwing doggy style, for fuck’s sake—to wanting to hold her close. It was the oddest changeup he’d ever felt, having these two conflicting wishes present in his heart at once.
But, he thought, as his rational, risk-assessing mind kicked back in, as long as he kept those wishes separate, he’d be safe.
Besides, they’d both be in the clear in a few days, when moments like these ended. They’d move on—him to his single ways, her to…
The thought of her moving on was a kick in his chest. It was far too unpleasant for him to consider when she was here in his arms, all soft and snug.
Henry pawed at the sliding glass door, whining. Travis found himself wishing that Cara could start the I’m-cool-with-you-spanking-her training stat, so that he could do this again, and again, and again.
He chuckled silently. He could barely believe he wanted a dog who was trained not to cock block a spanking.
But what he really wanted was for this not to end.