Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 20

  “I have another question.”

  Of course she did. “Go for it,” he replied.

  “You said you were here on business, yet you seem to be spending your time with family even though you live on the other side of the country. There’s a lot of whiplash. What’s that all about?”

  “Family business,” he said in a jeering tone. “For legal reasons, we have to gather in person for shit to get done. My grandfather lives here, and since patriarch trumps everything else, we go wherever he wants.”

  “Trust fund kid.” She snickered. “I knew it.”

  When she stuck her nose in his neck and inhaled, his skin prickled with goose bumps.

  “You reek of money.”

  She was joking, but he wasn’t. “Believe it or not, I try not to. Privilege has a dark side, Summer. You can’t buy the things that matter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged, but his feelings on the matter were far from indifferent. “Family comes to mind. So do morals and ethics.”

  “I hear you,” she murmured as a look of sadness passed over her features. “My mother cared more for all the wrong things—money included. Still does. She had the balls to put out her hand when Dad died. Her behavior was disgusting.”

  “I care about my blood family but not about the money. It makes me somewhat of an outlier. These family get-togethers are bullshit marathons, and I’d take a hard pass if not for my father and granddad.”

  “I’m glad it’s just my brother and me. We’ve got distant relatives, but aside from the occasional Facebook post, there’s no contact. It makes me wonder if some people just aren’t meant to have a family.”

  He thought about the countless men and women he’d worked with since his time at the DOJ through now. They talked a lot about family. It was what you did during long stretches out of the country, usually in a danger zone, when normal living was a memory. But had any of them found the happy rainbow?

  “I have a tribe,” he murmured as the unformed thought landed on his tongue. “Like-minded people with similar life experiences. They fill the void, I suppose.”

  “Friends are what get us through.”

  Oh, no doubt, he thought. “I’d like to be your friend, sunshine girl.”

  He felt her mood shift. It happened in a flash and quickly vanished, but his senses caught the change. Worry roiled in his gut. She was thinking about the temporary nature of their relationship. He didn’t know what to do. A big part of him wanted to claim her as his including a change in time zones and a new zip code for her.

  Was he jumping the gun? Oh god, yes but he’d known from virtually the second they connected she wasn’t just special. Summer was extraordinary, and her appearance in his life at this moment was part of a bigger picture—whatever it turned out to be.

  But how was he supposed to articulate how he felt? Three days wasn’t a lot to base a lifetime upon, but when he thought about his mom and dad and how an unforeseen tragedy derailed their happiness, he knew how critical timing was.

  Reaching for her hand, he twined their fingers. She was experiencing a bit of an emotional wobble—he sensed it in her touch.

  “Oh, my god,” she suddenly exclaimed. “I get it now. What this feeling is.”

  His brows bumped down as he tried to figure out what she was getting at.

  “You’re doing it now, aren’t you? Reading me or whatever you call it.”

  Was he? “Not consciously,” he assured her.

  “It explains the Italian. You sensed it was my favorite, didn’t you?”

  The Italian? What did she mean?

  “I thought it was weird when our entire dinner was a Tuscan delight.”

  Oh, that Italian. A smirk was all he had. “Babe, I’d fucking love to imagine I have those kinds of smooth moves, and maybe I did sense something, but it was one of the chef’s choices, and I just went with it.”

  Summer’s teasing snicker brought happiness to his heart.

  “I didn’t peg you as the humble sort.”

  “Me? Humble? Bah! I’m a motherfucker on my best days and have a few medals and commendations to prove it. The rest of the time, I’m a clueless idiot. It even says so in my annual performance review.”

  She yawned unexpectedly and flushed a sweet color of pink. “Gosh, I’m tired.”

  He wasn’t surprised. Their intense sexual interludes left him drained, so he assumed as a novice in the bedroom, she was probably exhausted. Sleep was definitely in their future but first …

  “Can I interest you in dessert?”

  She sat straight and shot him some delightful eyeshade.

  “Does the moon come out at night?”

  “I take that as a yes. Up, up, babe.”

  She wiggled off his lap and yanked on the robe’s belt tie.

  “That’s a good girl.”

  Laugh lines creased her eyes when she wrinkled her nose.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

  “Surprised?” By what?

  “How much I like your endearments. I always assumed calling a modern woman baby or good girl was the precursor to a swift kick in the nuts. It turns out, I was wrong—big time.”

  He laughed. And laughed. “Duly noted and my nuts thank you for the clarification.”

  “Your nuts are welcome,” she said with a cheeky curtsey. “Okay, big guy. Where are you hiding the sweets?”

  Should he do it? Should he grab his junk and make a crude remark? God, the decision was tougher than usual.

  Yeah, the cocky shithead living in his head won this battle with no problem. Suggestively fondling what the gods saw fit to give him, he broke out a New Yawkers drawl and wagged his eyebrows in a comic fashion.

  “Yeh, I got yer sumthin’ sweet right here, little lady. Hot, hard, and ready to go.”

  “Is that so?” She looked him over, crossed her arms, cocked her hip, and smirked. “Go ahead, then. Do your show if it means that much to you. But turn a little to the right, would you? It’s your good side.”

  “Really? My dick has a good side?”

  “My god, you’re easy.” Summer chuckled. “Throw a compliment at your, um, manhood, and it’s game on.”

  “My manhood is a needy baby. Come on, I’m being serious,” he snarled when she doubled over laughing.

  Bending at the waist, she put her face in front of his robe-covered groin and spoke.

  “Needy baby? That’s a new one, but for now, Imma let you have it.”

  She turned on the baby talk, and well, he lost it.

  “Do you have a name, little guy?”

  “Little guy?” he squawked with outrage. “Seriously?”

  Her eyes moved, but her body didn’t. She met his gaze, and said, “Having only been up close and personal with you, I have to take your word for it when you say you’re packing a cannon rather than a pistol. Nothing to compare it to.”

  “I prefer grenade launcher,” he quipped.

  Her lip-biting snort was quick and amusing.

  “Whatever you say, but I have to point out how little sense your needy baby-grenade launcher makes. It’s one or the other.”

  She turned her attention back to his dick, tapped on the obvious bulge, and grinned. “So I ask again, you got a name?”

  “Lord Harddick works. So does Ivan the Impaler—I mean obviously, right?”

  “Ivan the Impaler, First Lord of the Harddick. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Vicky, the virgin.”

  “I know you.” He laughed. “Your virgin vise made quite an impression on the impaler.”

  Summer straightened and jumped in his arms as she laughed. “What is wrong with us?”

  He held on and swung her around. The joy she brought to his life made him feel human.

  “So much,” he sniggered. Putting her down wasn’t easy. Not when she felt so good in his arms.

  The second her feet hit the tile, she was off and running. Keeping up with her might requ
ire vitamins.

  In the dining room, he directed her attention to the smaller serving cart. She didn’t wait on ceremony and started lifting the silver lids.

  He watched her with interest. Though he wasn’t trying to read her, it couldn’t be helped. She engaged his senses on such a profoundly deep level that he couldn’t tune it out.

  She murmured, “Eh,” at a round platter piled with fresh-cut fruit and moved on. Nothing appeared to interest her until she uncovered two massive plates of mini desserts—each labeled with a little card.

  “Oh. My. God.” She looked at him, her eyes wide and filled with delight. Cheesecake? Little lava cakes? Red velvet? Tiramisu? This must be heaven.”

  Laughingly, she picked up the plate and covered it with her body. “This one is mine. You’re on your own.”

  “Check this out.” With a lame flourish, he whipped a cloth napkin off a tall thermos container. “Chocolate milk. Ice cold.”

  “Get out!”

  “I know you’d rather choke than wash dessert down with coffee, so I vetoed the hot beverage options and went with a childhood favorite. Did I do good?”

  She sat cross-legged on a dining table chair and smiled broadly. “Did you do good? I think I love you,” she said jokingly.

  They both froze. Her words hung in the air. He wanted to break out in a happy dance, but the impulse died when her expression veered between shock and horror. Arnie knew he had less than a second to throw her a lifeline.

  “Oh, thank god.” He chuckled. “I thought it was just me with the out-of-control emotions.”

  Her relief was palpable. He needed to do a better job of reassuring her this wasn’t a lost weekend between strangers.

  He poured the chocolate milk into fancy crystal glasses. She fiddled with her hair and avoided his eyes.

  “Summer.”

  She took the glass but didn’t acknowledge his implied request that she look at him. He took the direct route. It’d be easier in the long run if he didn’t give her wiggle room. He knew from firsthand experience how letting things go could lead to acrimony.

  Going with direct and to the point, he spoke in a quietly authoritative tone. “Look at me, Summer.”

  She sighed. He studied her while she struggled with her desire to run and hide.

  Yes, he admitted with a sigh. He could read her current vibe without any difficulty whatsoever.

  Her eyes slowly lifted. She moved slightly, and her robe parted, offering him an alluring view of her glorious breasts.

  He needed to get a grip. Shaking himself, he met her gaze and held it as he spoke.

  “This isn’t a one-off, and while I’m not entirely sure what you’re thinking, you should know I’m all in where you’re concerned. Okay?”

  She nibbled her lip but nodded. Her indecisive agreement was all kinds of cute and reminded him she wasn’t a pushover.

  It also meant she didn’t want to get into it right now, and he was okay with that. He had to let her find her way just like he had to find his.

  “Sit down and stop hovering.” She patted the table next to her and motioned to the chair. “Plant it, blondie.”

  Transferring a second plate of mini desserts to the table, he sat down like a cowboy getting in the saddle and made damn sure he flashed her in the process. A loud snort of laughter told him he succeeded.

  Twirling what passed for a utensil in his fingers, he growled, “What idiot decided dessert forks had to be small?”

  “I believe it was the Earl of Dessert, but he had exceptionally tiny hands, so the small forks and spoons were all about appearance.”

  He gawked at her for a good few seconds, attempting to ascertain how much, if any, of her explanation was rooted in fact. This wasn’t the first time since getting to know her that Arnie suspected he’d met his match as a bullshit artist.

  She was using her tiny fork to dig a hole in the lava cake and giggled when a flow of black and white goo escaped.

  He sliced the mini cheesecake in half and stuffed one into his mouth. Soft, creamy awesomeness exploded on his tongue. It was good, but he’d had better and said so.

  “You haven’t tasted real cheesecake until you experience authentic New York-style cheesecake—done right. I also have a cheesecake guy,” he told her with a wink. “Every New Yorker does. Actually, my guy is a little old Greek lady whose fame got her a mention on a food TV show. She also makes killer pumpkin rolls.”

  Her hand shot out, and she sporked the other half of his cheesecake. Jamming it into her mouth, she grinned sheepishly. Then she scooped up a big glob of goo-covered lava cake and offered it to him from her fork.

  He leaned in and let her feed him. His dick, which always managed to make its presence known at the oddest times, reacted with a quiver.

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Without effort, their dessert interlude unfolded organically from there. He fed her, and she fed him. They did a lot of giggling and laughing.

  A hunk of Tiramisu dropped onto the lapel of her robe.

  She kissed away the crumbs of red velvet clinging to his lips.

  It took half an hour to straighten up. He made sure the fire was secured and picked up the towels they left lying around. Double-checking the spa controls, he then dimmed the courtyard lights and met up inside with a flustered-looking Summer.

  “My phone is a piece of shit,” she grumbled.

  “What’s the problem?”

  She threw her hands up and huffed. He knew the sound. It was the universally recognized typical behavior for those frustrated by technology. Waving the phone, she grumbled with a fierce frown. “The minute I plugged it in, it started to update. Look,” she snapped. “Time remaining one hour? Are they kidding?”

  When she got mad, her halo snapped and crackled like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  Knowing better but too weak to stave off his need to invade her mind, he opened up, and in the space of a heartbeat, she filled him. It was almost too easy. And it also wasn’t fair. She had no way to shield herself from his prying.

  In short order, he picked up a lot. Exhaustion nipped at her heels. She felt raw and uncertain. Excitement was there too, but she was reining it in.

  Her nervousness got his engine running and drew him back to the moment at hand. She spied her dress draped over his arm and asked if he had her panties. He fished them from his robe’s pocket.

  “Laundry,” she drawled.

  Without waiting for him to say anything, she dashed into the tiled bathroom, and yelled, “Hey, do you mind if I use the hotel toothbrush? I don’t have a sleepover game. If I did, I’d have an auxiliary toothbrush in my purse, and rinsing my undies in the sink wouldn’t be necessary.”

  He laughed. She had such a refreshing way of expressing what she was thinking. No filters.

  No filters meant no agenda, either. Summer lived every minute. She existed in the present. He needed that in his life.

  He needed her.

  While she did her thing, he tidied up the dining room and called the special number he had for the chef’s personal crew to unobtrusively remove everything.

  When he didn’t find anything amiss after a last glance, with no reason to stall, he headed into the bedroom suite and shut the door.

  9

  Her hair didn’t look half bad—not after she hit it with the hotel hair dryer and tamed the curls. It wasn’t as sleek and carefree as she preferred, but she wasn’t at home where a bunch of products and tools were within reach.

  Washing her undies was easy. Swishing the stretch lace boy shorts in sudsy water, Summer wavered between giggling and embarrassment. She giggled from the absurdity of washing her panties in a sink and colored with embarrassment for the same reason.

  Was this really what women did? Wear hotel robes, have wild monkey sex in and around a Jacuzzi, and wash their damn panties in a sink?

  Squeezing the water out of her underwear, she looked around for a spot to hang them and decided the hook next to the sh
ower stall, the one meant for a robe, was perfect. Draping them over the knobby metal fixture got a laugh out of her. The cute lingerie waved as a flag of sexy honor flying in her lover’s bathroom.

  Her lover. Yikes! The way she responded to the blond Adonis had her doing and feeling things totally foreign and confusing. Like blurting out the L-word.

  Wasn’t bringing up love the ultimate in rookie moves?

  Oh, dear. Did inexperience and being overwhelmed by their intimate activities make her pathetic and needy? That must be it. Why else would she bring up love?

  Uh, because you’re falling for him. Admit it.

  She removed the robe and took a step back to assess her reflection in a full-length wall mirror. Her body looked the way it always did—strong, a little on the lean side, and healthy. Her boobs wore a visible trail of love bites left by Arnie’s greedy mouth. The man certainly had an oral fixation. Each nip and the marks left behind excited the fuck out of her.

  “Good grief.” Her eyes landed on her hips, where she found a series of smudgy bruises.

  Recalling how it happened, she gave a quivery moan as the memory played out of her wicked lover holding her hips as he pulled her onto his hard cock, over and over. He did things to make her scream with pleasure even while floating on a cloud of primal bliss. Remembering the masterful way he physically commanded her made Summer tingle with excitement.

  Was she confusing the endorphin high of orgasms with love? The thought made her shudder and reach for the robe to cover up. Wasn’t this the theme of every goddamn movie about a brokenhearted woman?

  Her eyes went to the bathroom door and lingered. Arnie was on the other side, and she could feel his presence. His effect on her was powerful. Physically, emotionally, and sexually powerful. He filled her senses till there was no more room. A wave of awareness made her wobble and throb.

  She wanted him. Desperately.

  Wanted him to look at her with fire in his eyes.

  Wanted to love him so completely she’d have nothing left.

  Arnie made it easy to leave it all on the field. No matter where this thing went, Summer knew she had no choice but to commit body and soul. There was no other way.