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Authors: Virginia Kantra
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developed claws that raked his
gut.
He wanted . . . something. The release of sex, yes. More. He wanted
to feel her tremble and come apart again, wanted her wet and soft and
under him. Craved her tenderness. Her touch.
He hitched her up on the counter. She hooked her legs around his
waist. He pictured himself stripping the jeans from her and pushing his
way inside, now. He fumbled for her waistband.
Her hands came up between them, flattened against his chest. Good,
yes, touch me, he thought.
She pushed, hard.
He raised his head, confused.
Her lips were full and wet, her eyes dark. The tiny gold cross on her
chest moved up and down with her breath.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Margred?” she asked.
“What?”
“You were talking to her when I came in.”
His blood roared in his head. “That has nothing to do with you. With
this.”
“Yeah?” She attempted to close her legs. He didn’t move. “Because
I won’t be used to make her jealous. Or to cover whatever thing you two
have going on from Caleb. What do you want, Dylan?”
“I’d think that was obvious.”
“Not to me.”
65
He took her hand and pressed it to his crotch, where he was hard and
aching for her. “You,” he said. “I want you.”
Her lips trembled; firmed into a sneer. “Very nice. Excuse me if I’m
not flattered. Or convinced.”
He pulsed against her. “What would it take to convince you?”
Blushing, she tugged her hand away. “I don’t know. More than being
groped against the kitchen counter. Been there, done that.”
“I did not grope you,” he said, irritated. She’d pushed him away
before he’d had the chance.
“It’s not always about you, handsome.”
Some other man, then.
He narrowed his eyes. “Who?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then you shouldn’t have brought him up. Who was he?”
“Like you really want to know.” Her head came up, almost
connecting with his jaw. “It’s not me you care about; it’s who else had
what you want. Well, fuck you.”
“You ruled that out. So talk to me.”
Her snort of laughter took them both by surprise. “It was Nick’s
father, all right? I worked in his kitchen.”
“In Boston.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“Nick told me. That first day, on the beach.”
Her hand went to the chain around her neck, to the totem of her
murdered Christ. Dylan had noticed the gesture before. Did she call on
Him for help? Or was the gesture merely nervous habit?
66
“Nick talked to you about his father?” she asked.
He was still looking at her chest, the gold chain, all that smooth skin
above the scooped neckline of her tank top. “He said you left him.”
“Yeah. After Alain made it really clear he didn’t want anything to do
with me or the baby.”
Babies, well . . . Babies were a serious commitment. No wonder the
guy was scared off. Dylan raised his gaze from the slight slope of her
breasts to her mouth, sensitive and a little sad.
“There are worse things than growing up without a father,” he
offered.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Dylan raised his brows.
“Mine took off when I was three years old,” Regina explained.
“But you had your mother.”
“When she wasn’t working. I wanted different for Nick.”
The shadows in her eyes disturbed him. “It wasn’t your choice,”
Dylan said.
“Not then. It is now.”
He didn’t follow. He was still hard, his brain still blurred with lust.
Regina sighed. “I can’t give Nick a mother who’s around all the
time. The least I can do is spare him some guy who won’t stick.”
Dylan frowned. “You knew all along I would not stay. It did not stop
you on the beach.”
Her pointed chin came up. “I was drunk. Anyway, that was before I
knew you. Before Nick knew you. I can’t risk him getting attached.”
“I’m not asking to move in with you.” Frustration sharpened his
voice.
gut.
He wanted . . . something. The release of sex, yes. More. He wanted
to feel her tremble and come apart again, wanted her wet and soft and
under him. Craved her tenderness. Her touch.
He hitched her up on the counter. She hooked her legs around his
waist. He pictured himself stripping the jeans from her and pushing his
way inside, now. He fumbled for her waistband.
Her hands came up between them, flattened against his chest. Good,
yes, touch me, he thought.
She pushed, hard.
He raised his head, confused.
Her lips were full and wet, her eyes dark. The tiny gold cross on her
chest moved up and down with her breath.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Margred?” she asked.
“What?”
“You were talking to her when I came in.”
His blood roared in his head. “That has nothing to do with you. With
this.”
“Yeah?” She attempted to close her legs. He didn’t move. “Because
I won’t be used to make her jealous. Or to cover whatever thing you two
have going on from Caleb. What do you want, Dylan?”
“I’d think that was obvious.”
“Not to me.”
65
He took her hand and pressed it to his crotch, where he was hard and
aching for her. “You,” he said. “I want you.”
Her lips trembled; firmed into a sneer. “Very nice. Excuse me if I’m
not flattered. Or convinced.”
He pulsed against her. “What would it take to convince you?”
Blushing, she tugged her hand away. “I don’t know. More than being
groped against the kitchen counter. Been there, done that.”
“I did not grope you,” he said, irritated. She’d pushed him away
before he’d had the chance.
“It’s not always about you, handsome.”
Some other man, then.
He narrowed his eyes. “Who?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then you shouldn’t have brought him up. Who was he?”
“Like you really want to know.” Her head came up, almost
connecting with his jaw. “It’s not me you care about; it’s who else had
what you want. Well, fuck you.”
“You ruled that out. So talk to me.”
Her snort of laughter took them both by surprise. “It was Nick’s
father, all right? I worked in his kitchen.”
“In Boston.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“Nick told me. That first day, on the beach.”
Her hand went to the chain around her neck, to the totem of her
murdered Christ. Dylan had noticed the gesture before. Did she call on
Him for help? Or was the gesture merely nervous habit?
66
“Nick talked to you about his father?” she asked.
He was still looking at her chest, the gold chain, all that smooth skin
above the scooped neckline of her tank top. “He said you left him.”
“Yeah. After Alain made it really clear he didn’t want anything to do
with me or the baby.”
Babies, well . . . Babies were a serious commitment. No wonder the
guy was scared off. Dylan raised his gaze from the slight slope of her
breasts to her mouth, sensitive and a little sad.
“There are worse things than growing up without a father,” he
offered.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Dylan raised his brows.
“Mine took off when I was three years old,” Regina explained.
“But you had your mother.”
“When she wasn’t working. I wanted different for Nick.”
The shadows in her eyes disturbed him. “It wasn’t your choice,”
Dylan said.
“Not then. It is now.”
He didn’t follow. He was still hard, his brain still blurred with lust.
Regina sighed. “I can’t give Nick a mother who’s around all the
time. The least I can do is spare him some guy who won’t stick.”
Dylan frowned. “You knew all along I would not stay. It did not stop
you on the beach.”
Her pointed chin came up. “I was drunk. Anyway, that was before I
knew you. Before Nick knew you. I can’t risk him getting attached.”
“I’m not asking to move in with you.” Frustration sharpened his
voice.
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