I waved a hand. “Not because of any of this drama,” I said. “I locked myself in a freezer.”
His confusion became a questioning frown. “Come again?”
“At the butcher shop. I went there to confront Ian and I heard him and the lady from the antique show talking,” I said. “So I hid and ended up in the damn freezer without the broom to keep it open, and . . . that’s a long and convoluted story, but suffice it to say I was there for a while.”
His face morphed into worry and my insides warmed on the spot. “How long of a while?”
“I don’t know exactly,” I said. “Two or three hours that I was aware of, and then I kind of . . . went to sleep.”
“Jesus, Savanna,” he said, coming forward. “You could have died.”
“I know,” I said. “Not much to do in there but think about that. About—my life, my daughter.” I took a deep breath. “You.”
He closed his eyes as if that physically hurt him. I didn’t know if that was good or bad. When he opened them again, he avoided my eyes, looking my body over.
“Are you okay? Did you go to the hospital?”
I shook my head. “Ian—” I stopped when his gaze shot upward. “Yes, Ian found me. Because my phone was ringing on the kitchen floor and he picked it up and for some ungodly reason he decided to open the freezer.”
“Shit,” he muttered through his teeth, leaning on the porch post.
“He carried me upstairs and put me in the shower—with all my clothes on,” I added. It was close enough to the truth. “I stayed in there till I was normal again.”
Duncan looked frozen himself, like he didn’t want to believe what I was telling him. Like he wanted to pull me into his arms but wasn’t letting himself.
“That phone call was from you,” I said, hugging my arms to myself as goose bumps covered my body. “He told me. Together you both saved my life,” I said. “So don’t ask me to trash him. I won’t do that for either of you.”
I could swear his eyes reddened, but I wasn’t sure because he blinked and looked off in the distance, away from me.
“And it’s over, supposedly,” I said. “All this drama.”
He turned back to me. “What does that mean?”
“It means he struck a deal with the devil,” I said. “I don’t know exactly what,” I lied. Or sort of lied. I truly didn’t know the details, so it was only half untrue. Maybe three-fourths. “He met with your uncle. So we’ll see.”
“And you and Ian?” he asked, his voice going gruff.
Were once upon a time
. “There—there is no me and Ian,” I said. I breathed in slowly, processing that. “Not for years now. There used to be, but that’s . . .” I shook my head. “We have a crazy past, Duncan. And that’s not an excuse for what I did, but it is the reason. I’m not proud of it.”
He didn’t say anything, just locked in on my eyes. Fuck if that didn’t slam me in the chest and start a burn down deep in my heart.
“I know you probably can’t forgive me,” I continued. “But you need to know that I was falling for you too. And I don’t do that,” I said, biting my lip to control the quiver. “Ever. That was as real as it gets.”
Duncan’s jaw clenched and something softer flickered through his eyes for a second. Just a second. One of his hands came up as if to touch me, and then he pulled it back. My heart soared as I took that as a positive.
“I’m not perfect and I will never claim to be,” I said. “I’m screwed up. I have baggage that has baggage, I have issues with girly things and have done some not-so-smart things in my past. I have jacked-up hair and I talk when I’m nervous. You once called me a mess, and it’s true. I’m—”
“A beautiful mess,” he said, stepping closer again. My breathing quickened and I had to think about exhaling. That look. That damn look. “I said you were a beautiful mess.”
The burn that had started low was up in my throat then, threatening to choke me. “Yeah, well,” I managed, the words clipped and quivery. “You were high on steak then.”
A sound escaped his throat that almost sounded like a chuckle, and his hands came up again. They stopped just short of touching me, as if he had to think about it one more time, and then they were on either side of my face, pulling me to him. I sucked in a breath and let my hands move slowly around his waist.
“And what’s my excuse now?” he breathed, restrained emotion making his voice gravelly.
“Lack of sleep?” I whispered, my heart doing bottle-rocket launches against my ribs. “It does tend to make you—”
“Shut up,” he said, covering my mouth with his.
Oh, sweet Jesus, dear angels in heaven it was . . . it was mind-rocking. It was an intensity we’d never had before. It was always slow and sexy before, and that was fine too, but this . . . this was raw and needy and set my blood on fire.
His whiskers scratched at my face in a very good way and I melted into him, fisting his shirt in my hands, tasting the salt from my tears that wouldn’t be denied any longer. He broke free of my mouth to kiss the tears away, which of course only brought more.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered.
“Not trying to,” I said. “One of those girly things I hate. I thought I’d never get to kiss you again.”
He leaned back to look down in my face and I pulled him back.
“Don’t go,” I whispered, needing like I couldn’t remember needing in a long damn time. And not just in a physical way. I was familiar with that. This was something else entirely.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a look so deep, so hard-core that my toes went numb on the spot. “I haven’t slept since I saw you last, thinking you were really gone.”
Gut stab. “I thought—”
“I know what you thought,” he said. “I did too. Until the second day when I couldn’t stand it anymore and I knew something had to give.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered against his lips.
“So am I,” he said. “I was wrong too,” he said, kissing my forehead, my nose, my lips again before holding my face where he could look in my eyes. “I should have been honest with you.”
“Can we start again?” I asked.
“Only if we can start right here,” he said, claiming my mouth once again.
I moaned slightly at the roughness of it, of the rawness, the aggression just under the surface. There was no slow build, just taking what he needed. I understood that all too well. His mouth trailed from my lips to my cheek and along my jaw and down the side of my neck before coming back to my lips again. He reversed gears and kissed them softly, tracing them with his fingers and then kissing them, over and over, driving me crazy with want until he claimed my mouth again.
It was different. It was so different, and I was trying to find the why as I got lost in his mouth and the deep punishing intensity of his kiss. Our hands roamed, my skin warming more with every touch, my fingers aching to feel all of him. He dove deeper into my mouth as his hands cupped my ass, pulling me against him, letting me feel how much he wanted me. Oh, that was so mutual. Fuck, I was on fire.
With great difficulty he pulled back, looking at me with sex-glazed eyes. God, it was the sexiest I’d ever seen him.
“I hate to break the moment but maybe we should go inside?” he asked.
“Most definitely,” I said, realizing with a start what I was about to repeat. Good God.
“And I kinda need a shower,” he said.
I chuckled. “Anything else? A pipe and slippers, maybe?”
He picked me up by my ass, making me yelp with laughter, and carried me to the door, holding me against it as I wrapped my legs around him. “I’ll show you a pipe—and slippers.”
Holy fuck, my temperature shot up twenty degrees, and all in one place. “My, my, Mr. Spoon,” I breathed. “You have a naughty side.”
“Care to meet it?” he said against my neck.
My eyes fluttered shut. “Very much.”
“You could join me in the shower.”
No, no, no, as hot as that would be on any other day, two shower scenarios with two different men on the same day was too much. And I didn’t care to be wet again.
“Actually, I’ve had enough of being wet today,” I said. “But how about I’ll be waiting for you when you get out? I need to get out of these clothes anyway.”
“Yes, you do.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Even with all of the crazy sexual things I’d done in my life—and I’ll admit that with Ian there were many—I don’t think I’d ever been as fucking turned on and nervous as I was waiting for Duncan to come out of that shower.
First-time sex with someone was always hot, but the anticipation with Duncan was about to take me down. I’d fantasized about this moment since the second he smiled at me at the vet’s office. Granted, I’d been thrown a little off-kilter since Ian’s return, but that was history and chemistry and fire and matches knocking me around. I’d pegged Duncan as a mild, even burn, and I was wrong. He was just cultured, where Ian and I were wild and backseat nasty. But all it took was a little igniting, a little edginess roughening up his corners, and that gentlemanly demeanor had gone a little feral out there on the porch.
And I liked it.
I’d stripped like a two-dollar whore once he’d gotten in the shower, not knowing how long he’d be, trying to hurry and get positioned just right on the bed. The water was still going so I got back up and spritzed myself with some subtle cologne, pulled the covers back and sprayed a little over the bed for good measure. I glanced in the mirror and winced at my crazy hair, but that was about to be a pointless effort anyway so I let it go.
I was debating the pros of under or over the covers when I heard the water turn off, and I sucked in a breath and leapt onto the bed, climbing under the sheets like a nervous schoolgirl on prom night. Not that I ever had a nice bed on prom night. I had pine needles under a tree in the woods, but hey, I was moving up.
Pulling the comforter free of my black sheets, I tried making it a little sexier, lying on my side and partially covering myself with the sheet, one leg wrapped around the outside so he could see one cheek. I tested my leg and it was still smooth, thank God. I bunched up the sheet a little more, trying to make it a little messy-looking and up the sexy vibe.
“Fuck, just hurry up before I have a stroke,” I whispered.
Which just about happened when that door squeaked open.
I was glad I’d tangled myself in the bed, because one look at him walking out of my bathroom with nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist and I knew I would have lost the ability to stand.
Not just because he was so incredibly fine, which he was. But the way he stopped when he saw me, let out a slow breath, and met my eyes with that way of his. My whole body woke up, my heart speeding up like I’d just run around the block four times.
“Hey, you,” I managed, the words sounding sexily husky. I couldn’t have done that again if I tried.
He walked closer and I had to swallow to find spit. Dear God, he was something to behold. Not hairy, just a smattering on his chest, just enough to play with. Water droplets still clung to hard muscled arms I wanted to lick, and a tattoo I couldn’t quite make out adorned one shoulder. He’d evidently found my razor stash and shaved the scruff, but that was okay. Because the look in his eyes said the gentleman had left the building. And it had nothing to do with what may or may not be on his face.
“Do you have any idea how—
perfect
you look right now?” he said, his voice deeper than normal. His eyes moved slowly down my body, lighting little fires as they went. “Like I almost don’t want to mess you up.”
“Please mess me up,” I said. It was everything I could do to stay lying in that bed looking sexy or demure or whatever I had going on. My body was itching to jump into his arms and get nasty.
“Oh, I’m going to,” Duncan said, meeting my eyes again. “I just want to memorize it first.”
“Well, can you do that down here?” I said. “Because if I don’t touch you soon, I’m gonna lose my shit.”
A sexy grin pulled at one side of his mouth as he braced himself over me on the bed and I rolled to my back. “And what would that entail?”
I ran my hands up his arms and down his chest, watching his eyes darken at my touch.
“I start babbling and I won’t be perfect anymore.”
“I can find better uses for that mouth,” he said.
“I can find better uses for that towel,” I said.
He nudged his knee inside the one I had outside the sheet, and I dragged my foot up the back of his leg, bringing a rush of breath from him. “Savanna,” he breathed, his whole body taut, his jaw tight.
“Yes?”
“I’m not gonna be able to go slow this time, baby,” he said.
Oh, fuck yes. I reached for his face, begging him with my eyes to come down to me. “I don’t want you to,” I said. “God, Duncan, please.”
“Not so fast, don’t skip ahead,” he said wickedly, restraining against my pull. “I mean once I’m inside you.” He closed his eyes like he was imagining it and I almost came just watching him do that. “Fuck, it’s gonna be a runaway train, I want you so badly.”
I forgot how to breathe. My leg came around him, and it was all I could do not to shove that sheet away and latch on. “Please,” I whispered again, clawing into his hair roughly, trying to get that point across. “You’re killing me. I need you, Duncan. Now.”