At once the shock of her mouth sent him into erotic overdrive. One of her hands slid into his boxers and grabbed his balls while the other gripped the base of his cock to hold him steady as she went down on him.
Speech left him as he took a side road and pulled into a near-deserted area. He loved the idea of a trucker seeing this gorgeous woman sucking his cock, but she wasn’t wearing a seat belt and he didn’t want to crash and hurt her, either. Precisely when she’d become so precious to him, he wasn’t sure, but the bare fact was there, nonetheless.
The moon hung full and heavy overhead as he leaned back into the seat, watching down the line of his body as that ebony spill of hair rose and fell over him. Each flick and swirl of her tongue, every stroke told him how she felt in words he knew she couldn’t part with just yet. Despite the fact that he was in a completely new place, too, he felt only tenderness for her. After a long time being the playboy bachelor, he was hanging up his old gig and grabbing this woman with both hands.
And as it had been with every single time she’d touched him, climax threatened very quickly. He sifted his hands through her hair, letting the wet heat of her mouth continue to bring him pleasure. She was so beautiful he ached knowing she had trouble accepting that beauty. Ached even more at the reasons why.
“Dahlia, baby, wait.”
When she looked up at him, there was nothing he could do but kiss her on those lips so delightfully swollen from sucking his cock.
“You and I have a date with the hood.”
“I don’t want to scratch it. Your GTO is one thing, but this ’Vette is a work of art.”
He got out of the car and pulled her along with him. “Dahlia Baker, I want to fuck you on the hood of this shiny red car under the full moon. Would you deny me that? I’m just a hardworking man who loves the little pleasures life offers him.” He pouted and she snickered.
“How do you want me?”
“Well, now. Acquiescent is a nice start. Hands on the hood, baby. I want to take you from behind. But first, take the shirt and bra off.”
She moved to the front of the car and pulled off her shirt and bra, tossing them both into the passenger’s seat. And with a look back over her shoulder at him, bent forward, her palms resting on the hood.
“Man you’re beautiful with moonlight on your skin.” Leaning in, he licked the curve of her spine from the waistband of her pants to her neck before reaching down to pull off her pants and toss them with her shirt.
Thank goodness he’d remembered to tuck a condom into his pocket before he’d left the penthouse! He rolled it on quickly and tested her readiness. “So wet. Always ready for me. Do you know how that makes me feel? Knowing your body responds to me this way?”
She sighed softly and it touched him deeply. He caressed the bare skin of her back and thighs as he slowly pressed his cock into her pussy.
Over and over he thrust all the way into her, as deeply as possible and then slowly pulled out. The rhythm he built was hypnotic, the scent of her body mingled with the crisp smells of the warm earth and the bark of some nearby trees.
Something in him shifted at that moment and he wanted to just hold her in his arms for hours. Nothing mattered but the two of them and how they were joined, his hands on her, the way her body took him in, sheltered and received him.
* * *
Dahlia only barely held back the tears that threatened to fall on the hood. Never in her life had she been touched with such tenderness. Nash made her feel treasured and truly beautiful. With him she could imagine being a whole woman. He knew what she was and accepted it. There was no judgment; he appreciated her mind and spirit as well as her body. She knew a man of his reputation wasn’t after marriage but there was something between them. Something important, and that was enough.
When he reached around to circle her clit with a fingertip it took only moments until she was coming. Her growing emotional attachment to him and the way he made her feel and see herself had ramped up her readiness. There in the moonlight—stripped naked, stripped of fear and her defenses—Dahlia gave herself to him utterly and completely.
CHAPTER SEVEN
What a difference being a thousand miles north made. Bundled up in her heavy coat, Dahlia sat out on the porch sipping coffee and avoiding her father.
His words to her played around in her brain, edging at her heart. That he didn’t see her for anything more than a pretty face hurt more than when strangers thought so.
“Hey.”
Dahlia’s sister, Iris, joined her on the glider swing.
“You’re different, Dahlia. In a good way,” Iris added quickly. “Confident. Tell me.”
Dahlia told her sister about the job with Tate and how excited she was at the possible opportunity.
“You’re the only one who seems to have trouble believing you’re worthy.”
“And Dad.”
Iris sighed. “Back to that in a minute. Tell me about the guy. There’s got to be one. I can tell.”
Dahlia laughed. “His name is Nash and he’s…God, Iris, he’s amazing. Runs the family business with his brother. It’s hard to explain what he does, but essentially he takes people who need things and introduces them to the people who can provide them and gets a commission for it. Only it’s people like Robert De Niro and Sheryl Crow and stuff. He’s cultured and rich. I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m afraid that it means more to me than to him.”
Dahlia paused and her sister waited.
“I think I’m in love with him and it’s not quite been two months. I’m worried I’m going to end up dumped with my heart in a thousand pieces. I’m in way over my head, but I can’t help it. I feel so alive when I’m with him.”
“What are you worried about, then? Do you think he’s just using you?”
“I want to trust what he says. He’s the one who pushed for us to be exclusive. But he travels a lot and everywhere we go women fall over themselves for him. It’s…I don’t know how to handle that.”
“Dahlia, why can’t you see how truly special you are? I know you see how gorgeous you are. And life hasn’t always been easy because of that. But you have such a problem understanding that a man would want all of you. Why?” Iris shook her head. “Okay, so I do know part of why. But so some guy from the hill dumped you in your senior year because his parents thought you were trash. You aren’t, Dahlia. You were always better than Chris Foster and his stuck-up family. It’s time to rise above all that. Some people will judge you no matter what. You can’t do anything about it other than be a person of worth. And you are.
“If this guy knows what’s good for him, he’s in love with you, too. Give him a chance. Don’t judge him the way you hate to be judged. But if he hurts you, I’ll come down there and kick his ass.”
Dahlia laughed. “I love you.”
“And as for Dad, Dahlia, you’re just going to have to accept that he doesn’t get why you’d want to leave Liberty, and he won’t—ever. He’s a good man, he loves his family, but he doesn’t have big dreams, and part of him feels inadequate because you do. Like the life he worked so hard for wasn’t enough.”
Damn, her sister was right. Dahlia felt ashamed she’d never thought of it that way.
Iris put her head on Dahlia’s shoulder briefly.
“Let it go. Be happy.”
* * *
Relief poured through Nash as the plane took off for Heathrow. A week with his mother shoving women at him was more than he could take. Even after he’d told her he was seeing someone.
More than anything, this time apart confirmed that he was developing some seriously deep feelings for Dahlia. All he thought of was her scent, the way she laughed. That hip thing she did onstage and in bed. The way she felt first thing in the morning, sleep-warm and always willing to open her arms and legs to him.