A Kiss to Build a Dream On (23 page)

She wanted him. Even after all the ways he'd screwed up, she could still trust herself with him.

The revelation unleashed a tide of emotions inside. Possessiveness. Adoration. Kneeing apart her thighs, he settled himself between her soft limbs. “I'll give you what you need,” he muttered, nibbling the edges of her ear. She gasped, trembling at his touch. “I promise I'll do right by you.”

Freeing the tied robe belt in one movement, he pushed aside the soft fabric and laid her bare in front of him. His heart raced at the sight of her clean skin, her perfectly rounded breasts, and the sweetness between her legs that called to him. He lowered himself to her breasts, nuzzling and licking and caressing them until she threw her head back and cried out. Slipping a hand between her legs, he pushed one finger into her softness, then two. Her hands clutched at his back, pulled his hair, trembled at his touch.

He wanted to pleasure her until she forgot the horrors of earlier in the day. He wanted to bring her to the brink of ecstasy until the only thing she knew was his touch, his caress. He wanted to worship her and fill her and never let her go.

Trailing kisses down her beautiful belly, he kept his fingers inside her—coaxing and rubbing—until his mouth found her center. He placed his lips on her swollen clitoris, kissing and licking gently. His touch elicited groans from Willa's throat. His name was in her mouth, over and over. The sound of it ignited him, goading him to give her more. He sucked on the divine peak with a rhythm that matched his fingers inside her.

The drumbeat of his touch intensified, pulsing through her body. Her damp hair tumbled back from her head as pleasure overtook her. She shattered in his arms, her muscles quaking with overwhelming sensations. Her core convulsed around his fingers, and she cried out again and again until the spasms subsided.

Slowly, Burk kissed the insides of her thighs, upward to her hips, then her sternum, and finally her lips. She sighed softly against him, her expression satiated and a little dazed.

He settled himself next to her, pulling the robe closed once more, then tugging the covers back around them both. He was still fully clothed.

“Wait, you're done?” she asked thickly, her confused eyes blinking.

He kissed the tip of her nose, then her lips. “I want you to rest. There will be plenty of time for me.”

She struggled to sit up, but he urged her back down gently. “Please. I know I'm pushing my luck here, but I might just be looking at four times.”

“Four times being right? In
one day
?” she asked, her voice full of mock wonder. “I don't know, that seems awfully extreme.”

“It is,” he said, stone serious. “It is extreme enough to warrant careful introspection. We should think about this.
You
should think about this especially.” He kissed her eyelids closed. “You should meditate and reflect on the wonderment that may have transpired today. You should take deep breaths in, exhaling slowly. That's right, good.” He pulled her more tightly to him, marveling at the softness of her breath, the steady rise and fall of her incredible chest.

“Inhale in, exhale out,” he whispered as her muscles relaxed.

“You're tricking me,” she murmured, already half asleep.

“No, Willa,” he replied, kissing her brow gently. “No tricks. From now on, you will have my honesty. You will have my devotion. You will have my heart, and all the love I can give you. Because I do love you, Willa. I always have, ever since high school. And I'm only sorry that it took me this long to realize it.” He kissed the top of one cheekbone, the corner of her mouth. “Can you forgive me for being the biggest jerk that ever lived, and can you give me another chance?” he whispered in the stillness.

The only reply was the sound of a delicate snore as it left her throat.

W
illa emerged from sleep the next morning wondering if she'd dreamed the whole thing. Had Lance really attacked her? And had Burk nearly rescued her, then told her he cared about her?

She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Next to her, the bed was empty, but she could still feel the warmth where Burk's body had been. And she could smell his masculine, outdoorsy scent around her, as if he'd cocooned her in his arms all night.

All
day
and night, she realized, looking at the bedside clock. It was 7:08 a.m.—on Sunday. She'd been out nearly twenty-four hours.

She stretched, wondering why in the world she'd needed to sleep so long. That is, until she caught sight of her injured wrists. The angry marks reminded her acutely of everything that had happened Friday night. She suddenly wondered if she needed to sleep even more.

But no. She wanted to get up, but was unsure suddenly what to
do
once she was standing. Should she go out into the kitchen wearing nothing except Burk's robe? Or should she dress fully and then head back to her own place as if nothing happened?

Her pulse raced as she recalled the way he'd touched her yesterday—so tenderly and affectionately, as if she meant so very much to him. She closed her eyes, suddenly wanting very badly for that affection to be
true
.

Oh, if there could be another chance for them, she'd take it. Not so long ago, she'd believed all hope for them had washed away, like the sandy edges of the Birch River when the snow melted. Yet maybe it hadn't. Maybe there was an island of opportunity left for them. A little place the raging waters of the past hadn't touched, where the ways they'd hurt each other wouldn't override the ways they could love each other in the future.

She stared at her wounded wrists, touched the bandage on her face. She had no doubt that Lance would have hurt her if she hadn't escaped. Her insides quaked with the realization of how close she'd come to harm.

Life was so short, so tenuous. She hugged her knees to her chest, aching with a feeling she couldn't place. It was part fear perhaps. But also part exhilaration. You never knew how much time you had, or how things could change in a split second.

It made her want to live with abandon, full of life and love for the people around her. She was determined to live with her heart and her mind and her soul accessible to those she knew she could trust. Audrey. Betty. Stephanie. Anna. And Burk, too. That is, if he'd meant what he said yesterday. If it hadn't all been a heat-of-the-moment thing.

Willa chewed the inside of her lip. It had been a difficult day. And people were prone to hyperbole when they were stressed.

Perhaps Burk had spoken out of turn. Maybe he was just being effusive out of concern.

Willa took a breath and pushed the covers back.

She supposed it was time to find out.

Willa padded into the kitchen to find warm coffee waiting, but no Burk. He was gone, but he'd left a note:
Had to run out. Call me when you get up. I am close by. Thinking about you.

Willa sighed. There was so much to talk about, and yet he wasn't here. Where could he have gone?

She closed her eyes briefly, realizing how much they needed to sort out. How long would she stay here? What would they do about the house?

She wondered if he was letting her stay out of sympathy. Because he felt sorry for what she'd been through. Yet Willa desperately wanted there to be some part of him that was caring for her not out of compassion but out of—affection. Love, even.

She found her cell phone in her purse and dialed his number. He answered on the first ring. “You're up,” he said, sounding pleased to hear from her. The tenor of his voice sent chills along her body. She longed for him to be next to her, for his words to be breath in her ear instead of wavelengths over a phone line.

“I got your note,” she said. “What's going on?”

“I wondered if you could meet me at the Oak Street house,” he said. She could hear the smile on his lips. “I have something to show you.”

“Now?”

“As soon as you can. I had one of the crew members drop off your Volvo, and the keys are there on the kitchen table. I know it might be hard to see the place again, but I think what I have for you will help.”

Willa shivered, thinking of Lance, of the shattered hot dish on the porch. “I don't suppose you'd ask me if it wasn't important.”

“It's important. But good important, not bad important.”

A mixture of excitement and dread churned inside her. She was being asked to go back to the place where Lance had attacked her. It was frightening to be sure, but she'd
survived
him. She'd fought him off and won. And now Burk was inside her home, too. Somehow, between her strength and his, it felt like nothing could hurt her.

Willa smiled. “All right. I'll be there in a few.”

She hung up the phone, and raced to get ready, wondering at what Burk could have in store for her.

As Willa pulled up to the house, she noticed right away that it was ablaze with light. It was hard to miss, even in the morning sun, considering how it poured out of every window, reflecting like glitter on the damp streets.

The second thing she noticed was that the light was
warm
. It wasn't the cold, fluorescent beams from the cheap bulbs that she'd thrown into a few of the house's lamps. Instead, these were deep, golden rays from the kinds of lights she had dreamed about in the space. Chandeliers and Tiffany lamps, for example.

She got out of the car, gaping at the golden hues. Walking up the front porch, she could see two of the new lights already, glinting from either side of the front door. They were Arts-and-Crafts-style porch lights—exact replicas of the lights she'd picked out and pasted into one of her collages. But how—

Before she could fully form the question, the front door opened. There stood Burk, paint flecks on his forearms, Spackle in his hair, and dust in every line of his skin. “You made it,” he said, his eyes dancing with something that looked like pure joy.

“I made it,” she said, staring at the state of his person. She'd never seen him gritty before. For a contractor, he was normally meticulous. That, plus all the new lights, had her mind reeling.

Before she could ask what was going on, he leaned down to brush her lips gently with his own. A steady hum vibrated through her. The delicious tingle of it had her nearly collapsing on the spot. Before she could deepen the kiss, Burk pulled away. The playful light in his eyes was even brighter.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said, pulling her inside. “We've been working all day to get it done. Not
everything
is finished, but there's one room ready. I had to show you—”

“Is that my paint color on the walls?” she interrupted, peering around. “And are those the recessed lights we talked about?” She heard her voice shaking but she was unable to keep the tremor at bay.

“That's what I'm trying to tell you. We—”

“The fireplace mantle has been refinished,” she said, pushing past him, “and some of these windows are new.” She whipped around, disbelieving the transformation. She wanted to pinch herself. “When did this happen?”

Burk reached out to steady her. She was grateful for his hand, since she suddenly felt dizzy.

“The past twenty-four hours, while you've been sleeping, I've been able to get the crews in here to get some of the work done. I wanted you to step foot into your dream. Into what you deserve. I wanted this place transformed so you'd never think about—about the past when you came back here. It's not all done, of course, but it's a start.”

“But
why
do all this when you want the house, too?” Willa asked. “Why not wait to see if my loan fails and see if you can just—take it over?”

With a dusty finger, Burk tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I don't want this house,” he said quietly, “if you're not in it. In fact, I don't want this
life
if you're not in it.”

Willa could only stare at him, speechless. Her heart filled and pressed against her ribs. She felt a poignant ache in every part of her body.

He smiled tenderly. “Come on, come see what we've done.”

He pulled her from the living room into the dining room. The wrought iron and crystal light fixture she'd wanted for over the table had been purchased and installed. The trim had been fixed and painted a clean white in contrast to the rich honey color of the walls. The space was still bare—Burk hadn't ordered furniture for any room, of course, not knowing what she'd repurpose or order new—but many of the structural plans they'd worked out together, he'd executed to perfection.

Next to her, he shifted, seeming suddenly nervous, and Willa realized it's because she hadn't really
said
anything yet. Tears sprang into her eyes, and the refinished space around her blurred. She swiped at the wetness with her palms.

“Are you all right?” Burk asked gently. “Is this okay?”

“I don't have words,” Willa said, her chest tight. “It's so beautiful. But it only means something if—”

“She's here!” came a cry from behind them. Willa turned to see Audrey, Betty, Stephanie, and Anna filing in from the back door. They were bundled in coats but had workman's boots on, not to mention durable, paint-splattered gloves.

“We were helping Burk!” Stephanie said, her freckled face breaking into a wide grin. “We've been out in the garage all day prepping your furniture. He told us to sand it and get it all ready so you could paint it and redo it in whatever way you wanted.”

“This was so much
fun
,” Stephanie said, “just the break I needed from my house. Willa, anytime you need help around here, you call me.”

“Steph's good with sandpaper,” Anna said, smiling. “I'll give her that.”

“But we're forgetting the biggest project,” Audrey said, her brown eyes squinting with delight. “We have a surprise for you.”

“It was Burk's idea,” Betty said, “so if you hate it, blame him.”

Willa glanced from friend to friend, marveling that they were all here, in her house, helping out. From the sounds of it, they'd been laboring for hours to surprise her. Her eyes filled up all over again, much to her dismay. When in the world had she gotten so lucky to deserve a group like this?

Burk slipped an arm around her, and she leaned into his solidness. “This is too much,” she whispered.

“No,” he said, his dark blue eyes boring into hers, “it's exactly right.”

“You have to turn around while we carry it in,” Anna said. “And promise not to peek. Swear?”

Willa nodded, finding it hard to talk. “Promise,” she whispered hoarsely.

She turned around while Burk and her friends filed back outside. She heard scuffling and laughing. Then more footsteps as they reentered the house. She couldn't begin to imagine what they were doing.

“Okay,” she heard Audrey singsong, “you can look now.”

She turned around and her heart dropped immediately into her feet. She could feel it beating in her toes, where it would remain because no way would she ever get over this surprise.
Ever.
Her whole body trembled at the sight before her.

“Do you like it?” Burk asked.

Willa shook her head. She had no words. She tried to speak, but could only omit a tiny gasp.

“Are you upset?” Audrey asked gently. “I can't tell.”

Willa shook her head. She was overwhelmed—but with love and affection, not anger or frustration.

“We wanted you to know that Lance can never hurt you again,” Burk said as Willa struggled to regain her composure. “We'll never let him near you again. Your friends are here for you. All of us.”

Willa took a steadying breath and stared at the blue table in front of her. It was her table—the one she'd started to refinish for her living room—but had cracked into Lance's face the night he attacked her. Only, her friends had meticulously recovered every piece of wood and put the whole thing back together again. She walked forward unsteadily, running her fingers over the refinished surface. There were cracks and lumps where things hadn't fit back together exactly right. She could see the places where they'd had to use wood glue and maybe some wood putty. It was flawed, certainly, but it was the most beautiful table she'd ever seen in her life.

“I love it,” she whispered finally. “It's amazing.”

“You still have to distress it,” Burk said. “All we did was paint it.”

“Oh, I think it's plenty distressed already,” Betty said. “What are you going to do to it now? Throw it in the Birch River?”

The group chuckled, and Willa thought maybe Betty was on to something. Maybe she'd leave the table just as it was—a reminder of all the imperfections that could exist but still make up something beautiful.

“Thank you,” Willa said after a moment. “I don't even know what to say. This is the most meaningful gift I've ever received.”

“We love you,” Anna said, looking pointedly at Burk. “All of us. We wanted to give you something that would always be a reminder of how strong we are when we stick together. People can try and break us apart, but we'll just get the wood glue and paint out and put ourselves back together again.”

“Damn straight,” Betty agreed.

Willa was just about to ask if they'd stick around for the rest of the tour, when Audrey looked at her watch. “My goodness, I haven't been home in
hours
.”

Anna nodded. “I should really get going. I've left Sam with Juniper for far too long.”

“My husband is wrangling the twins and I think he can handle it for a few more hours,” Stephanie said, grinning. “I may just go shopping.”