Passion in Bloom (Hometown Heartstrings #2)

Chapter 14

Roarke

“H eather.” I took another step toward her.

He’s not going to give up.

I didn’t know everything about the situation that pushed her to run from him and to leave Chicago. She was adamant that it wasn’t my business.

I also didn’t know much about him, other than what Marty told me and how I perceived him when we interacted.

But due to the fact I wasn’t a blind idiot, and that I wasn’t born yesterday, I knew David Kenning would be the kind of asshole to fight forever. People like him thrived on the chaos and pain in life. I’d learned far too late that Veronica was that kind of a person. David was cut from the same cloth.

Mean. Vindicative. Self-centered.

And delusional.

“I think someday,” she answered at last, shakily and not steadily, “he’ll have to give up.”

“Has he given any indication of that so far?” I asked, counting on her to give me the same, old like of the need for me to back off.

“No,” she admitted, lowering her gaze and licking her lip. “But I think he could.”

You think he’d just give up?

After chasing you all the way here?

“With what encouragement?” I asked, walking with her again since she seemed restless and needing to move.

“With no encouragement. With no fight. If I stay to myself and don’t engage in anything with him, then he’ll have to lose interest someday.”

Fat chance of that happening, gorgeous. She was too smart to really think that, but I could give her credit to be brave enough to think that, to dream of it.

All her flimsy answers proved was that she was still scared. Terrified and stuck in a frantic survival mode where David was concerned.

We’ll do this your way then.

I walked with her, letting the silence fill in the mere inches between us as we neared my cabin. It didn’t seem like she was making that her destination. Hanging her head low, she seemed to just want to move around and vent—just a little.

You stick with your “plan.” Don’t engage with him at all.

I refused to follow suit.

Instead of stepping back from the situation, I made plans to contact Marty again. To ask him to look into David further. To do something . Hell, I wouldn’t hesitate to hire a PI to dig up dirt on her ex and find something to use against him. Slick and shady lawyer or not, everyone had something that could be turned against them.

If he was such an ass in general and a weirdo about controlling Heather, he had to have exhibited that twisted behavior with someone else before.

“I’m not protecting him from anything, Roarke,” she said after a long silence broken only by the snapping cracks of twigs and leaves beneath our feet. “I’m not his...anything. I don’t need to protect him or care about what happens to him. But I’m not yours either.”

She’d emphasized that before. I’d never met another woman who wanted to stomp in the reminder that she was single and unattached like she did. But I realized that she had to have extenuating circumstances to make her this stubborn about that. One day, maybe she’d tell me about those circumstances, but I was prepared to work around them and take whatever she could offer me.

“I’m not yours to worry about,” she added quietly.

I shook my head, stopping before my cabin to pivot and face her. “You’re not,” I agreed. “But I wish you were.”

She bore me with her wide-open stare. In her green eyes, I saw all the vulnerability and loneliness she tried to mask and shut down. The longing. The need. I saw it all and I hated that she’d be this insistent to push me away. The desire she held back from me was there. Lurking and simmering just like it was growing within me. This tension only thickened between us, and she wasn’t impervious to it no matter how much she insisted on defending her independence and privacy.

“It’s all I think about, gorgeous.” I lifted my hand to touch her arm, but I lowered it as I rethought the wisdom in reaching out. If she wanted to ignore this chemistry bubbling between us, I didn’t have to do the same. I could tell her. I could continue to be upfront and honest. It was a freakish sensation, to put myself out there for her when I had been so convinced I was done with forging any relationship with a woman again, but I was compelled to explain it all to her. If she didn’t want to talk or tell me anything but butt out , yet at the same time she’d make a move and act on something physical, it was up to me to bridge this gap between us. I wouldn’t be her fuck toy. I had to make her understand what I was beginning to feel for her.

No more making moves. No more touching. If she wanted something to happen, it had to be on her. She had to reach out to me.

“I wanted nothing to do with you. I wanted nothing to do with another woman again.”

She furrowed her brow, glancing down at the hand I lowered. With her gaze down, she looked so innocent and uncertain, as if she couldn’t bear to look at me in the eye but wished I’d make contact anyway.

“But fuck, I can’t help it. Something about you...” I shook my head, almost in wretched disbelief and shock that I was saying this to her. After all those claims that I was done, that Veronica had turned me off from ever wanting another woman again, I was laying my heart on the line for this secretive neighbor of mine.

How did this happen?

Why you?

What changed?

So much for bachelorhood.

“It’s all I can think about. You . Making you mine. Being yours.” I ran my hand through my hair, hating the angst that made my chest feel this tight. My desire for her was no fickle, passing phase.

I felt this need to have her close deep in my soul.

“Of seeing if we can have something here. Something real. I want you, gorgeous. But—”

She closed the distance between us, reaching up to tug my head down to hers.

And I shut my eyes at the sweet bliss of her impatient kiss.

No, no, no.

Even though I was giving her the control and power to make a move on me, I wasn’t doing this again.

I held her arms and pushed her back gently, hating the loss of her soft lips on mine.

“You’re not going to silence me with a kiss,” I warned quietly.

“I’m not?” She leaned in again, hooking her arm around my neck as she brought her face closer to mine. The barest whip of hot air from her lips hit mine, still wet and hungry for more.

I cleared my throat, setting my hands on her back and keeping her flush to me. Every inch of contact felt significant. Along my fingers. In the weight of my palms. It was impossible not to feel super aware of her, of the fact I could be trusted to touch her and hold her close. I felt the connection to the bottom of my soul, like I was the one who could be relied on to treasure and cherish her.

She brushed her mouth over mine, just at the corner, and I groaned lightly at the tease.

“Not all communication has to be with words,” she said softly, kissing me square on the mouth.

Damn, was she getting to me.

I could just imagine what else she had in mind.

Taken back to the memories of her lowering to her knees and putting those plump, stubborn lips on my cock had it hardening even faster. She had to have felt my erection pushing up under my jeans. We were standing so close, flush, and she moaned a sound of need as she rocked her body against mine. As if she was pulled to seek more friction between us.

I replied in kind, clutching her closer in a tight hug. We kissed. We licked. We explored. With our impatient mouths and tongues. Our groping hands.

Out here under the darkening fall sky, we communicated one very simple thing.

We wanted each other.

Now.

She tugged at the hem of my shirt, seeking a more secure latch on me. The second her cool fingers slipped over the edge of my top of my jeans, my abs tensed. Then she yanked, pulling me toward her. Or maybe it was a clue that she wanted my pants off.

I couldn’t tell. I wouldn’t guess. Presuming anything with a woman who could run hot and cold was stupid.

“Tell me,” I said between kisses. I cupped her face and couldn’t resist another long press against her parted lips. “Tell me what you want. Show me.”

With words or actions, I wanted her direction. She was skittish and conflicted, and I wouldn’t barge forward without knowing what she was after.

She hooked her fingers deeper into my waistband, urging me to walk with her. A grunt left my lips as I followed her, and she kissed me harder, stroking her tongue along mine in a sensual slide that I couldn’t get enough of. Once I realized that she was urging me to walk toward my cabin, I lowered slightly to put my hands on her ass.

I lifted, cupping those juicy globes, and she murmured an incoherent sound of need as she leaned into me. In a clumsy, stumbling hug, we moved as one. We weren’t in sync, but we managed to get there. I carried her steadily, not giving her a sign that I’d drop her or let go. She clung to me, cinching her legs around my waist tighter.

Liquid heat burned through me. My heart raced as I moved us toward my door, but when I paused to get my keys out of my pocket and unlock the door, I swore I’d keel over with the potent lust threatening to overwhelm me.

Fuck, she could kiss.

And damn, was it an addictive rush to hear her sexy-as-hell sounds of need and impatience.

Propping her up to the wall gave me the slight access to reach the doorknob and open it, but the second I pushed the panel open, this lazy makeout session ended.

Inside the privacy of my cabin as I carried her in and kicked the door shut, she showed me that she wanted more. That she needed it faster.

When she squirmed to get down, staring at me with a crazed gaze of pure lust, I panted and tried to catch my breath. Lowering her to her feet seemed counterintuitive to what we were doing. I didn’t want to give up a single inch of space between us, but she had other things on mind.

Like nudity.

She reared back from me only to get the space she needed to reach for the hem of her shirt. In one swift pull up, she bared herself. She showed me the taut, smooth expanse of her stomach, all that silky soft flesh I wanted to touch and taste. Higher yet, as she yanked her sweatshirt over her head, she gave me a full-frontal view of her tits. Exposed and unconstrained. No bra shielded those generous swells from my view.

She tossed her sweatshirt to the floor, but before it could’ve fallen completely at our feet, she took my hand and brought it to her breast. The hard point of her pebbled nipple made me groan, and as she brought her other hand to the back of my head, I didn’t need any guidance at all.

Pushing my head to her chest, she “told” me what she wanted.

My mouth on her tit, sucking on that peak of a nipple.

My fingers on her skin, stroking and teasing her to further arousal.

Then as she stepped into my space, breathing hard as I played with her nipples, I shivered under the slide of her arms over my shoulders and around my neck.

I hoisted her into my arms, raising her high enough that I could nuzzle those stiff nipples as I carried her into my room.

She wanted me.

Message received.

And no words were necessary when we spoke so well with our bodies.