Midnight Kisses (6 page)

When her legs moved and wrapped around his waist, he lost all control and he increased his pace. He needed release. He shortened his strokes, moving quicker and harder inside her, her moans urging him on. And then it happened, as he expected, the sudden clenching of his abs, the tingling along his spine and the tensing of his legs. He felt his release even before it started. His manhood expanded and then spasm after spasm of pure pleasure ripped through his body.

He heard a howl and realized it was his voice. She followed him with her own cry of ecstasy; her legs gripped him tighter as she joined him. Finally, control restored, he held her tight as she shuddered and convulsed against him, her eyes opened wide with the wonder of what she was feeling.

When she finally relaxed, he continued to hold her, afraid to let her go, afraid that this was all a dream, afraid he'd wake up to the cold hard reality of his life.

D
uring the night, Renée woke to a sense of stillness and loneliness. Outside, the sounds of Chicago at night comforted with their familiarity. She turned to the man who lay next to her.

What had she done?

She wasn't sure how she felt, but she did know she'd experienced the best sex she'd ever had in her life.

Renée slipped out of the bed. She needed to get away from him. Fear like nothing she'd ever experienced before held her tight in its grip and she stumbled out of the bedroom, turning the light in the living room on to erase the darkness.

She moved toward the balcony, sliding the door open when she reached it. She stepped outside, inhaling the
cool night air. Her heart was still racing and she slowly brought it under control. She was afraid.

She couldn't explain her feelings for him. Every time she thought of him, she felt even more confused. He was definitely not her usual kind of man. She'd always been attached to the more outdoorsy type or the witty extrovert. Daniel was the strong silent type.

But acknowledging that didn't negate how attractive and sexy she found him. His calm, controlled demeanor masked a man holding his passion in. She knew it…knew that there was something profoundly deep and emotional within him. She'd caught a glimpse of that man tonight. She'd caught a glimpse of the heat he tried to keep dormant inside.

Not that she was complaining. Their lovemaking had been wonderful, yet she could tell he'd been holding back, and she found herself wanting all of him.

In the distance, the night lights of Chicago flickered. She loved the city—its vibrancy and its atmosphere. Though she'd considered jobs elsewhere, she could never leave. When Vincent Memorial had offered her the job, she had jumped at the chance, even though the pay would have been lower than some of her other offers. Being happy wasn't always about money.

She closed her eyes, soaking in the feeling of the Chicago midnight. She needed to get back to bed. She had to work the early shift in the morning, and she hated to be late.

Renée returned to the bedroom. Daniel was still sleeping. She laughed. She'd tired him out. She felt the same; he had been a demanding lover.

She slipped between the sheets, drawing closer to him. She loved the feel of his body next to hers…the hardness, the strength, the way her heart rate quickened with excitement and anticipation. She was madly attracted to him and that alone scared her.

And then she realized he had stopped breathing, and two eyes flaming with fire stared at her. Instinctively, she reached up and kissed him on the nose, and gasped when he responded by capturing her lips.

Under the covers, she felt his arousal against her stomach and she reached out, holding him in her hands. His penis jerked and she felt pride in knowing that he responded to her. He was large and she was amazed that she'd accommodated him so well. She loved the fullness of him inside her and her body ached to feel him again. She ran her hands along his thick length, loving the feel of its ridged texture. He moaned, a vulnerable sound that made her know she was in control.

She felt the gentlest of touches at her womanhood. Her hand covered his, and she widened her legs, giving him the access he wanted, that she wanted, too.

A finger slipped inside her tenderly, finding her sensitive nub. His finger teased it and she released him, her palms folding and opening with the sensation that washed over her. She bit her lips trying to keep the sound in but with every flick of his finger she knew the sweetness of pain.

Daniel removed his hand and she almost screamed in protest, but when his head moved between her legs, she stopped, knowing what was to come would be even better. He placed his mouth on her, his tongue slipped
between the delicate folds, and he made love to her in a way she'd never experienced before. All she could do was give in to the thrill surging through her body and enjoy the skillful way he pleasured her.

And then he stopped and raised himself above her and prepared to enter her for the second time that night. Again she almost screamed with the impact of his entry. But her body was ready and when he pulled back and stroked her again, she met him halfway, joining him with a fervor of her own. She groaned and cried at each firm, hard stroke, wrapping her legs around him, and drawing him closer.

She clenched her muscles around his penis, wanting to give him as much pleasure as she could.

While they made love he whispered to her. Words of pleasure, naughty words that teased her, urging her to do what he wanted. And she responded willingly, titillating him in her own way.

Then she felt it…that awesome sensation that started deep inside and worked its way to the surface. Her body begged for release and then he screamed her name as his body shuddered with the chill of his orgasm.

Seconds later she joined him, unhappy that it was over, but allowing the waves of pleasure to take her floating on a cloud before she found herself falling once again into sleep.

 

When Daniel awoke he was disoriented for a moment, but the woman next to him brought back images of the night before. He glanced toward the window. The sun, barely awake, cast its pale rays of soft shades of orange
and yellow across the morning sky. A glance at the dull neon glow of the clock on the wall confirmed that it was just after seven o'clock.

Renée sighed in her sleep and drew closer to him. His arousal was immediate.

He wanted to make love to her again, and knew if he woke her, she'd melt in his arms. He liked lying next to her, but he needed to go to the bathroom. He slipped out of the bed, trying to make sure that he didn't wake her. He wasn't sure where the bathroom was, but he suspected it was the door on the left. He was right, and it took a bit of fumbling to find the light switch. And then he saw it…glistening on his finger.

His wedding ring.

The ring he'd worn for the last ten years. The ring his late wife had placed on his left hand. He felt a guilt so strong and so heavy, he could sense the telltale prick of tears.

He reached to take it off, but found he couldn't. Taking it off would be to break the final link to Lorraine. He knew immediately he'd made a mistake and promised himself that he'd never do this again.

And yet, while his love for Lorraine still existed, his feelings for Renée went deeper than he expected, than he wanted. It was too soon. He felt as if he had cheated on his late wife and she was looking down at him from above.

To love again was a definite no-no, and this “thing” with Renée was definitely heading that way. He didn't want this. He'd already lost his wife and his daughter. He couldn't lose anyone again. He couldn't deal with
the pain. Lorraine's and his daughter Chelsea's deaths had devastated him and he couldn't tell what the loss of someone else would do to him.

He had to leave.

He went back into the bedroom. She was still asleep. He searched for his clothes on the floor, disentangled them from hers and slipped them on. He stood staring down at her for a long time, then he turned and exited the apartment. Instead of going directly home, he drove until the sun peeped over the horizon, until it was high above him.

Had he done the right thing? He wasn't sure, but for now he knew that he couldn't be with her. Despite the progress he had made in the past few years, he was not a whole man yet. He would be the first to admit that.

Until he'd dealt with his hurt and his pain, he couldn't love again and Renée deserved better. She deserved someone who could truly love her. He couldn't give her that yet, when memories of his wife still lingered.

 

When Renée opened her eyes, she immediately noticed that Daniel was gone. Somehow she'd expected it. Her life seemed to unfold like the scenes from one of those melodramatic soap operas that so many women loved to watch during the quiet afternoon hours.

She rose from the bed, her body still alive with the lingering touch from his hands. She looked around for her clothes. They were neatly folded on the sole chair in the room.

She headed to the bathroom, needing to take a shower. Her body ached, weary from the passionate exertion. But
she felt good, alive. If Daniel had wakened her and made love to her again, she would have welcomed him into her body without hesitation.

And therein lay the problem. Or, therein
didn't
lay the problem, more appropriately.

She was falling in love with Daniel Buchanan. She didn't want to. She knew that she shouldn't. She'd only met him a week ago. Things were moving much too quickly.

He was still in love with his wife. That much she knew. She'd noticed again the ring on his finger, evidence of his devotion to a woman who'd died.

And she could do without relationships. Love was the stuff in romance novels that ended happily ever after. In real life, love could be there, but so many factors existed that challenged its chance of survival.

She turned the shower on full blast, allowing the water to feel like needle pricks on her body. She welcomed the harshness, and it soothed her. It was something she needed. And then it happened, the unexpected.

She started to cry. Fast-flowing, uncontrollable tears that she wasn't even sure had a reason to appear. Maybe she could no longer deny the loneliness that defined her existence. Maybe Daniel's entrance into her life had only made her aware of all that was missing. Maybe it was those feelings she thought she had buried since her abrupt return to singlehood several years ago.

For so long she had not wanted a man, but Daniel Buchanan had changed that. He affected her in ways she could not understand.

Turning the water off, she stepped out of the shower
and headed back to the bedroom. She dried her skin quickly and changed the sheets on the bed. Daniel's scent lingered everywhere.

Sighing in frustration, she walked to the closet, forcing his scent and image from her mind. She had to get a hold of herself. In a few hours she'd be at work, and she needed to be able to focus. Things were a lot more hectic during the day shift.

She perused the closet, searching for the perfect outfit for the day. She chose red, a color she didn't often wear, but red seem to fit the mood she was in. She had no intention of sulking because he'd disappeared without a word.

Daniel Buchanan was in for a big surprise. He made a mistake by messing with Renée Walker.

T
he days passed and Daniel didn't call. She waited each night for the phone to ring, but it didn't happen. She'd gone through the entire range of emotions possible, but today, Sunday morning, she had reached a state of resignation.

He'd not been to the hospital and Jamie had asked for him on more than one occasion. By the end of the week, Jamie, too, had reached indifference. Renée could see it each time she visited the teenager.

What hurt most was that she'd given herself to him without reservations and he had, in a very callous, unfeeling way, rejected her.

Ironically, even though she'd being trying to talk herself out of a relationship, she still wanted him. She knew Daniel had to be dealing with issues about his wife
or work, but it did not lessen the hurt she was feeling. They needed to talk. Maybe, just maybe, they'd rushed into the lovemaking too soon.

She couldn't wait any longer. She needed to talk to him. She searched for her cell phone and quickly found his number, but again, the only response she got was his deep baritone over the voice mail.

At that moment, she made up her mind. She wasn't going to call him again. If they were going to talk, he'd have to do the calling. She'd left enough messages and was beginning to sound like the whining, dumped girlfriend. And she was not that kind of woman.

She was concerned about him. She couldn't help the hurt or pain that burned inside at the thought of his suffering. He'd lost everything that was important to him.

The ding of the toaster oven drew her from her thought. Good. She'd eat breakfast and face the day head on. If Daniel decided to call her, then that was his choice. If he didn't that, too, was his choice.

Life was all about choices. She, too, had a choice, and she had all intentions of fulfilling her promise. What she needed to do was make sure that she protected her heart and not lose it again. She'd done the love thing already and didn't want to go there once more. She had to put things in perspective and make sure that she remained in control. That was the word:
control.

She'd always prided herself on her ability to be in control of any situation; something that worked well for her in her job. But when she loved, she knew she loved deeply, very deeply.

The phone rang and she jumped, almost screaming out. She glanced at the display before she answered it: the hospital. She picked the phone up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Renée, it's Cheryl. Sorry to disturb you on your off day. But I needed to talk to you about something important.

With relief, Renée settled down. “Cheryl, you know it's not a problem.”

“I knew you'd say that. It's about Jamie. She's asking to be released, but I know you wanted to talk to her before she left. I can hold her for another twenty-four hours but that's all.”

“I plan on calling Gloria today to find out if she has room for one more. Of course, we'll have to find out if Jamie is willing to go,” Renée assured her.

“I could talk to her since that's where I grew up. If not for Gloria taking me in as a foster child, I may have ended up on the streets, too. She took care of me for five years. I owe her my life.”

“I'll call Gloria and let her know. I'll come see Jamie as soon as I get there tomorrow morning,” Renée added.

“I hope you're enjoying your day off. Don't forget we're meeting tomorrow night for drinks.”

“Of course, I haven't forgotten. Are Paula and Denise coming?”

“Yeah, Denise is back from the cruise and raving about it. She said she hasn't heard from you. You haven't returned any of her calls.”

“I know she called, but I haven't actually checked my messages in days,” Renée replied.

“I know you and those messages. I'm tired of telling you, you need to return your calls.”

“I promise I'll check them as soon as I put the phone down. And I'll give Denise a call.”

“Good, and I'll see you tomorrow night.”

“Definitely.”

Renée put the phone down. She really needed to do better. She often got so busy she forgot all about her friends. No wonder she always felt lonely. It was these same friends who'd been there for her when she'd found herself jilted. Maybe spending more time with her friends would keep her mind off of Daniel.

But she couldn't help but worry about what had become of him. He'd just disappeared off the face of the earth. She hoped it had nothing to do with what had happened between them.

She picked up the phone and dialed Denise's number. Denise's cheerful voice came on the line. Good, for a few moments, she could forget about Daniel Buchanan.

 

Daniel instinctively knew that the caller was Renée. The day after he'd spent the night at Renée's, he'd called his boss and told him he needed some personal time. Fortunately, he had a few weeks of vacation time saved up. He'd packed a bag with a few shirts, a couple of pants and some underwear, and got in his car and drove to New York. He'd stayed at a hotel in Manhattan, taken in a few shows, and spent the rest of his time watching television, reading, sleeping and eating.

Of course, he'd also spent some of the time thinking. Actually it was more like he had spent most of the time thinking about his life…and about
her.

He had not been able to get her off his mind.

But now, after what he'd done to Renée, that unforgiving individual he had once been had resurfaced, and the cruelty of what he'd done ripped at his stomach.

Tonight, he would call her. No, he would go over to her apartment and tell her the whole story. He owed her that much. Maybe she would be willing to forgive him if she realized that he was being man enough to say he was sorry.

He picked up the phone and called the florist whose shop was just up the road.

A single rose and a note…
Forgive me.
Hopefully, he was doing enough.

Inside his mind was in turmoil, but there were things he had to exorcise if he was going to be happy.

He knew now that in order to be happy he would have to reveal his very soul.