Can't Hardly Breathe. Gena Showalter
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his early-morning departures. There’d been no reason to grapple with temptation.
“I’m fine,” she said, and gulped. Her shallow inhalations came a little too quickly, and her cheeks grew chalk white. “Super fine.”
How was her tone shrill and breathy at the same time?
He relaxed his battle stance, though his confusion remained. “Why are you here?”
“I...uh... Do you need more towels?”
“Towels?” His gaze roamed over the rest of her, as if drawn by an invisible force—disappointment struck. She wore a bulky, ankle-length raincoat, hiding the body underneath. Had a storm rolled in? He listened but heard no claps of thunder. “No, thank you. I’m good.”
“Okay.” She licked her porn-star lips and toyed with the tie around her waist. “Yes, I’ll have coffee with you.”
Coffee? “Now?”
A defiant nod, those corkscrew curls bouncing.
He barked out a laugh, surprised, amazed and delighted by her all over again. “What’s really going on, Dorothea?”
Her eyes widened. “My name. You remembered.” When he stared at her, expectant, she cleared her throat. “Right. The reason I’m here. I just... I wanted to talk to you.” The color returned to her cheeks, a sexy blush spilling over her skin. “May I come in? Please. Before someone sees me.”
Mistake. That blush gave a man all kinds of ideas.
Besides, what could Miss Mathis have to say to him? He ran through a mental checklist of possible problems. His bill—nope, already paid in full. His father’s health—nope, Daniel would have been called directly.
If he wanted answers, he’d have to deal with Dorothea...alone...with a bed nearby...
Swallowing a curse, he stepped aside.
She rushed past him as if her feet were on fire, the scent of lavender strengthening. His mouth watered.
I could eat her up.
But he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t even take a nibble.
“Shut the door. Please,” she said, a tremor in her voice.
He hesitated but ultimately obeyed. “Would you like a beer while the coffee brews?”
“Yes, please.” She spotted the six-pack he’d brought with him, claimed one of the bottles and popped the cap.
He watched with fascination as she drained the contents.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist and belched softly into her fist. “Thanks. I needed that.”
He tried not to smile as he grabbed the pot. “Let’s get you that coffee.”
“No worries. I’m not thirsty.” She placed the empty bottle on the dresser. Her gaze darted around the room, a little wild, a lot nervous. She began to pace in front of him. She wasn’t wearing shoes, revealing toenails painted yellow and orange, like her fingernails.
More curious by the second, he eased onto the edge of the bed. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“All right.” Her tongue slipped over her lips, moistening both the upper and lower, and the fly of his jeans tightened. In an effort to keep his hands to himself, he fisted the comforter. “I can’t really tell you. I have to show you.”
“Show me, then.” And leave. She had to leave. Soon.
“Yes,” she croaked. Her trembling worsened as she untied the raincoat...
The material fell to the floor.
Daniel’s heart stopped beating. His brain short-circuited. Dorothea Mathis was gloriously, wonderfully naked; she had more curves than he’d suspected, generous curves, gorgeous curves.
Was he drooling? He might be drooling.
She wasn’t a living doll, he decided, but a 1950s pinup. Lead me not into temptation... She had the kind of body other women abhorred but men utterly adored. He adored. To his shock, and delight, a vine with thorns and holly was etched around the outside of one breast, ending in a pink rosebud just over her heart.
He wanted to touch. He needed to touch.
A moment of rational thought intruded. Strawberry Valley girls were off-limits...his dad...disappointment... But...
Dorothea’s soft, lush curves deserved to be touched. And licked. The freckles on her body were visible, the perfect treasure map for his tongue.
I’ll start up top and work my way down. Slowly.
She had a handful of scars on her abdomen and thighs, beautiful badges of strength and survival. More paths for his tongue to follow.
As he studied her, drinking her in, one of her arms draped over her breasts, shielding them from his view. With her free hand, she covered the apex of her thighs and, no shit, he almost whimpered. Such bounty should never be covered.
“I want...to sleep with you,” she stammered. “One time. Only one time. Afterward, I don’t want to speak with you about it. Or about anything. We’ll avoid each other for the rest of our lives.”
One night of no-strings sex? Yes, please. He wanted her. Here. Now.
For hours and hours...
No. No, no, no. If he slept with the only maid at the only inn in town, he’d have to stay in the city with all future dates, over an hour away from his dad. What if Virgil had another heart attack?
Daniel leaped off the bed to swipe up the raincoat. A darker blush stained Dorothea’s cheeks...and spread...and though he wanted to watch the color deepen, he fit the material around her shoulders.
“You...you don’t want me.” Horror contorted her features as she spun and raced to the door.
His reflexes were well honed; they had to be. They were the only reason he hadn’t come home from his tours of duty in a box. Before she could exit, he raced behind her and flattened his hands on the door frame to keep her inside the room.
“Don’t run,” he croaked. “I like the chase.”
Tremors rubbed her against him. “So...you want me?”
Do. Not. Answer. “I’m in a state of shock.” And awe.
He battled an insane urge to trace his nose along her nape...to inhale the lavender scent of her skin...to taste every inch of her. The heat she projected stroked him, sensitizing already desperate nerve endings.
The mask of humanity he’d managed to don before reentering society began to chip.
Off-kilter, he backed away from her. She remained in place, clutching the lapels of her coat.
“Look at me,” Daniel commanded softly.
After an eternity-long hesitation, she turned. Her gaze remained on his feet. Which was probably a good thing. Those shamrock eyes might have been his undoing.
“Why me, Dorothea?” She’d shown no interest in him before. “Why now?”
She chewed on her bottom lip and said, “Right now I don’t really know. You talk too much.”
Most people complained he didn’t talk enough. But then, Dorothea wasn’t here to get to know him. And he wasn’t upset about that—really. He hadn’t wanted to get to know any of his recent dates.
“You didn’t answer my questions,” he said.
“So?” The coat gaped just enough to reveal a swell of delectable cleavage as she shifted from one foot to the other. “Are we going to do this or not?”
Yes!
No! Momentary pleasure, lifelong complications. “I—”
“Oh