No Flowers Required (17 page)

But she wouldn’t be dissuaded. She wanted her celebration, dammit, and she refused to see anything in his eyes except the arousal that had been on low boil inside her all day. There was nothing so important it couldn’t wait.

“Do you understand what today meant to me?” she whispered, branding his mouth with hers. “How much I need tonight? Just. This.” She punctuated each word with an openmouthed kiss against his stubbled throat and reached down to cup his stiffening cock. Ah, see, he wasn’t nearly as reluctant as he pretended. Her abrupt touch ripped a groan from him and he reeled back, holding her at arm’s length.

He stared into her eyes in the thin beam of light from the cold case, the only light she’d left on. The shadows swallowed his expression whole, but she could feel the way he tracked her face. First with his burning gaze, then with the backs of his fingers. Up the slope of her cheeks, over her temples. Along her quivering lips. The reverence in his strokes spoke to her, as if he were conveying without language exactly what she meant to him. How much she mattered.

How much
this
mattered.

“Goddammit, Alexa.”

Without warning, he dragged her into his arms again. She shuddered as he sucked on the area between her neck and her shoulder, drawing with such powerful suction that her whole body vibrated. Moisture dampened her panties and her breasts swelled, nipples rising insistently against the soft cups of her bra.

She wanted his hands there. Not on her sides, sliding up and down. Her blouse whispered against her skin with his movements, another subtle torture.

When he whirled her toward the counter, she gasped and slapped her palms down to balance herself. She sensed rather than saw him kneel behind her. “What’re you doing?” she managed when a flash of lightning blazed across the store and she reflexively closed her eyes.

He slid his hands up the front of her legs, his touch as silky as the ribbons they’d fought into bows that afternoon. His thumbs eased into her heels, tipping her feet up. Then the pads of his fingers were sliding up the back of her legs, tracing the seam of her hose.

“All day,” he murmured, nipping the hollow of her knee. She startled, nails digging into the counter. “All day I’ve watched you walk in these, and this seam taunted me. This line of black stretching from the soles of your feet up to heaven. You hiding it from my eyes under this.” He toyed with the hem of her skirt, which might not have existed at all for how exposed she felt. “But I could still see you. I knew what you’d look like under here, and what you were saving for me.”

She didn’t speak as he rolled up the thin material. His sharp inhale upon glimpsing the lacy-topped hose and garters gave her a moment’s enjoyment, then his teeth grazed her thigh and she forgot about everything but his mouth. His teeth. The pressure of his tongue. Her sex clutched around air and she cried out, the sound becoming a moan at the relief his lips offered.

He’d barely touched her and already she blazed for him. His fingers danced up and down the back of her calf, eliciting quivers she couldn’t suppress. He tormented her with an easy expertise she really didn’t care to dwell on, but she sure took advantage of it. Without hesitation, she rocked into his movements, as if he’d become her puppet master and she only existed to do as he bid.

An erotic thrill shivered up her spine at the sensation of his wide palms smoothing her skirt higher, baring the silk of her panties. He ran a fingertip around the scalloped edge and murmured words of praise she strained to hear. Just his voice made her quake.

Before this week, she wouldn’t have called herself a romantic, despite making her living tending flowers. Creating the fantasy of a perfect, pretty, flower-filled world made her happy, but it hadn’t changed the darkness she carried inside, that part of her that insisted happiness was something a person clung to before life and circumstance took it back again. But being with Dillon, more than anything else, made her believe. In romance. In hope. That not everything had to be difficult or hurt.

He’d shown up at the absolute worst time. Or the best, depending on her point of view. All she knew was that a week ago she’d been mired in worry and now, this very minute, all that bore down on her was sweet, sensual need.

Another clap of thunder shattered the web of intimacy he’d spun around them, until he nibbled the crease between her bikinis and the top of her leg and she jolted right back into that hot, dark space. He didn’t speak, at least not loud enough for her to decipher what he said. Somehow that only built the intensity of the moment.

Slowly, so slowly, he crept toward the heart of her, where she craved his attention. Moans slipped through her parted lips. Her pulse pounded in her head. Between her legs.

When he finally brushed her mound, the cry that left her bordered on agony. That he followed that fleeting touch with another, then another still, didn’t quell the ache. Only when he nudged aside the damp fabric and stroked her for real, worshipping her with every glide of his fingertips, did she expel the breath she’d held trapped in her throat.

“Oh, princess.” His voice sounded as gravelly as rocks thrown against a window, and he panted just as she did. Amazing how that nickname now turned her on instead of pissed her off. She could hear his affection, savored it in his caresses. He traced the curve of her ass with his tongue, stopping just short of where his fingers continued to tease her. Dipping in and out. Sliding along her folds. Circling. Toying with her where she swelled for him. “I wish I could see you.”

Half-tempted to draw her knee up on the desk to give him more room, she stared blindly at the sheets of rain slapping the windows. Fluttering the awning above the door, battering the roof. None of it had reached her consciousness before. How could it, when her heartbeat chugged in her ears and her body throbbed with utter awareness of the man who ruled her?

Lightning illuminated the shadowy room at the exact moment he plunged a finger inside her. She bit down hard on her lower lip to stifle a cry. “God, yes.”

A noise outside made her jerk her head toward the door. With growing horror, she watched the knob turn and then a woman in a trench coat darted inside, a soaked newspaper draped over her head. “Oh, it’s horrendous out there!”

All movement behind her—dear Lord,
in
her—ceased. And from somewhere she found the strength to whisper, “We’re closed.”
Can’t you read the freaking sign?

“Oh, I know. I’m sorry, but I thought I saw someone in here.” She flapped her hand and her newspaper fluttered like a panicked bird. Much like Alexa’s rampaging heart. “Though it’s awfully dark in here. Can you turn on the light?”

“No.” Then she repeated it again for good measure. “
No
. We’re closed.”

“But I forgot it’s my grandmother’s birthday and I need flowers.”

Alexa blew out a breath. Figures she’d get a customer now. “There’s some in that urn. Two fresh arrangements I did just this afternoon. Your choice.”

Clearly perplexed, the woman selected a bundle in crackling purple tissue paper. It was a selection of stargazer lilies, lemon leaf and fragrant eucalyptus, set off with a gorgeous purple bow. The loss was worth it if the woman would just
go
.

“I have money,” the woman began, hauling what Alexa presumed was a wallet out of her enormous bag.

“No, no, it’s fine. They’re on the house. I need to lock up.” Forcing false cheer into her voice, Alexa added, “Thank you for stopping by Divine and happy birthday to Grandma!”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“I couldn’t be more sure.” She really could not. The stirrings between her thighs had pretty much made up her mind for her.

Dillon had pulled back, tucking down and shifting fully behind her. Thank God for the high counter. Though he remained close, he barely touched her now. Just his hands lightly cupping her ankles as if he knew she needed the support.

He was right.

“Say, are you going to the gala tomorrow night?”

Dillon’s hands tensed and she swallowed over the tightness in her throat. “Yes. I’m excited about it.” Manners dictated she reply politely. “Are you?”

“Definitely. I wouldn’t miss it. The auction’s usually great, and it’s a terrific cause. Plus those hunky boys in tuxes make it worth my while.”

Alexa fiddled with the picture of Roz she’d put on the counter that morning, just to give her antsy hands something to do. “Absolutely.”
Go. Now. Please.
“Maybe I’ll see you there then. Have a great night.”

“You, too, and thanks. Good night.” The woman clutched her flowers and flopped her newspaper over her head before fleeing into the storm.

“Fucking A, that was close.” Alexa whirled to stare at Dillon, who wasn’t grinning or laughing or even praying. “Dillon?” she asked as he rose and took a definite step away. “We weren’t done.”

His silence unnerved her, eroding the last of her desire that hadn’t waned during the interruption. “I hope we’re not,” he said finally. He shook his head, his lips drawing into a flat, hard line. As if he was steeling himself.

“Alexa,” he began, his expression grave. “We need to talk. It’s important.”

“Not tonight,” she pleaded, reaching behind her for support. But there was only the cold glass of the counter. Solid, without warmth.

“Yes. I can’t put it off any longer.”

Ice scraped her throat. Whatever he was about to say, she didn’t want to hear it. Not when she’d finally glimpsed the light at the end of a very long year, one filled with more pain than pleasure. He’d helped tip the scales in her favor and she’d be damned if they tipped back so soon.

She shut her eyes and clenched her hands at her sides, the only way she could stop from slapping them over her ears like a child who was afraid to hear the worst.

No. No. No.

“Baby, open your eyes.”

When she did, he was right in front of her. So close she could meet his lips if she edged forward a little bit. His were moving, saying things that should’ve made sense had she still been able to hear over the buzz of white noise.

His eyes were so blue. She could just drown in them and float away, to a place where her happy flush of alcohol and success wouldn’t fade at the first jolt of hard reality. She could fall in love there, just let herself go. She’d never hit the ground, not when he was with her.

“Alexa, did you hear what I said?” He stepped forward and gripped her shoulders, tugging her up on her toes so that their faces were nearly even. “I’m Cory’s brother. I own—my parents own—Value Hardware. And—”

The buzz was back, encroaching around the edges of her hearing so that he sounded as if he were speaking through cotton. But she could see just fine. The sharpness of his expression, the hard planes of his face. The truth at the heart of all his lies.

“And this store,” she whispered, the accusation tearing from her already aching throat. It was swelling with the tears she’d never shed in front of him. He didn’t deserve them. He’d been given so much of her already, parts of her she’d never shared with another. Ones she’d never get back.

Now he was flinging them in her face.

“And this store.” He closed his eyes and scraped his hand over the back of his head. The prickle of his hair against his palm cut through the hum in her ears and made her wince. “Goddammit, I hate the way you’re looking at me. If you’ll just let me explain, if you’ll hear me out, I promise I can make this right. It’s not what you’re thinking. I care about you. So damn much. If you’d just—”

The laughter bubbled up inside her before she even suspected it was coming. It left her mouth on a sob that was closer to a dry heave than tears. “If I’d just what? Stand here and listen to more of your lies? You broke down every one of my walls, you bastard. They were so strong that no one ever got through. No. One.” She lunged forward and beat her fists against his chest, barely registering the way he stood there and took the blows. Her face was wet, smeared with the hot fluid she refused to acknowledge was tears. They dripped off her chin, sneaked into the collar of her shirt. Imprinting her with her shame. “You were the only one I trusted. I shouldn’t have. It didn’t make any sense, how this could happen when I’d almost given up thinking it ever would.”

“But it did. You feel it too.”

“Too? Fucking
too
?” She raged, clawing at his shirt. “You’d dare lie to me even now? How can you pretend to even know what a genuine emotion is when you’re nothing but a goddamn fake?”

“What I feel for you isn’t fake. It’s real. It’s the most important thing in my life.” His voice was hoarse, but not hoarse enough. Only if he spat out glass would she be satisfied he hurt enough. “God, just give me a chance—”

A tear glinted on his cheek, stark and full. It stopped her dead, until he blinked and she saw his eyes were dry. Ravaged, maybe, but bone dry. That tear belonged to her, an exact match to the dozens swarming her vision.

Are you going to crumple at his feet? Or are you going to stand up and tell him to go to hell?

“Princess, please.”

The nickname goaded her into action. Finally. She drew back and stared at him, wanting him to see that she wasn’t some broken doll. She’d cracked a little tonight, but the seams would hold. She wasn’t going to break, no matter what.

He’d helped her to learn that, and the lesson wasn’t one she would forget.

“I’m not your princess. I’m not a fucking princess, period. I’m a fighter, damn you. And I won’t give up. For that, I owe you. You gave me the tools to get here, and now I’m going to use them to get you the hell out of my life.” She pointed to the door, her finger miraculously steady. “Your tool belt’s in the back. Get it on the way out. And unless you plan on seizing this property from me, don’t ever fucking come back.”

“Alexa.” Her name was a sound of pure anguish. She relished it, like a boxer savoring his opponent’s wounds.

He lifted a hand toward her and she shrank back, her finger still extended. “I never want to see you again.”

For a long moment there was nothing but the sound of the rain pelting the windows and his harsh breaths. Hers had steadied, her heartbeat settling into an even beat. She could fall apart later, after he’d gone.