Where Their Hearts Collide: Wardham Book #2 (8 page)

Her bra sailed across the room and she wiggled into the center of the bed
, pausing for a second to put her phone on speaker. “Guiding me to do what?”

“First, we’re going to find out if you’re wet. Are you wet for me,
darlin’?” If she wasn’t already—which she totally was—she would be after that question.

“Yes.” Her answer came out in a breathless rush.

“One hand in your panties, the other cupping a breast. Don’t touch your nipples yet.”

She wasn’t going to, that wasn’t something she would normally do when touching herself, but as soon as he gave that directive, she was suddenly aware of
both nipples, her areolas pebbling and the dark pink tips jutting sharply toward the ceiling. She licked her lips, imagining him above her, propped up on his forearms, gazing at her breasts. She plumped up her left breast, offering him a taste. Her right hand, previously nestled on top of her pubic hair, now drifted lower to press on her sex. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve got my eyes closed. One hand on my cock, moving up and down, nice and slow, the other holding this phone so hard it might just break.”

She shifted her head to look at her bedroom wall. Thirty feet separated their bare skin. “Are you imagining that it’s me touching you?”

“Not right now. I’ve had that fantasy before, though. We’re in the shower. You wrap your fingers around me until I come all over your stomach. But right now, I’m there, in your bedroom, standing at the foot of your bed, watching you touch yourself.”

“I want you on top of me.”

“I’ll get there. Right now I want your legs as wide as they can get. You’ve got the longest legs. They’re so hot. I get distracted every time I see you in shorts, thinking about th
em wrapped around my waist.”

Her pussy clenched under her roving fingers. She needed to buy more shorts.

“I’m looking at you now. In my head, you’re not wearing anything, and I can see how wet you are.” She gasped at the picture he was painting. She wasn’t a virgin, not by a long shot, but to the best of her recollection, no one had ever looked at her spread eagle on a bed. If anyone else had suggested it, she’d be mortified. But Paul…his appraisal would be heated and wonderful. He’d make sure to reward her vulnerability. And she’d be able to watch him, watching her. See how it affected him.

“What do you look like?” She was most definitely in an altered state if she was blithely asking him to describe his erection. “I know what it feels like, but…we’ve never seen each other naked.”

“My cock? It’s…I don’t know, it’s a cock. It’s hard. The head is dark red, almost purple, and right now it’s throbbing to be inside you.”

She seriously might faint before this was over. “Nice. I’d like
to see it.”

“I’d like that too. I could
come ov—”

“No! Not…not today. This is probably where we should…you know. Be reasonable. Have boundaries.”

“Okay. But we’re not done here.”

“We’re not?” Oh thank god.

“Don’t you want to come? I know I do. I want to come all over you.”

Yes, please.

“Can you get yourself off with your fingers?”

She nodded dumbly before remembering he couldn’t see her.
“Yeah. Yes, I can.” Another first for discussion. Another moment lacking embarrassment.

“Then do it. You wanted me on top of you,
darlin’, remember? That’s where I am. I crawled onto the bed with you, and now I’m between your legs, your fingers on your clit, dipping lower when you need a bit more to keep it smooth and easy, and my hand is right next to yours. I’m fisting my cock against your hip, and our knuckles bump as we get faster and faster.”

A helpless moan escaped her lips as she picked up speed, matching his fantasy. “Why aren’t you inside me? I want you to…”

“Want me to what? Say it, Karen.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“I will, but not today. The first time I’m inside you, it’s going to be for real. Nothing is going to be left to fantasy. You’ll see all of me and I’ll see all of you, and this will pale in comparison. When we fuck, and that’s a when, Karen, not an if, because I need you. When we fuck, it’s going. To. Be. Real.”

His
strained staccato words tipped her over the top, her fingers a blur as she gasped a final breath before pure pleasure wracked through her body, leaving her boneless and twitching on the bed. The echo of his voice rang in her ears, his heavy breathing proof that they’d done him in as well. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah.”
A long pause pulsed between them. “You okay?”

“I think so.
” She twisted to her side, tugging the blanket with her, cocooning her naked body. “Yes. I’m okay.”

“I have to go to work soon. What are you doing tomorrow? Can we have breakfast before I go to sleep?”

If she thought too hard about any of what just happened, or what was to come in the future, she’d lose the warm muzzy feeling she was currently luxuriating in, so she let her heart answer instead of her head. “I’d like that. I’ll be up early, come by when your shift is over.”

Seven a.m. arrived not a minute too soon. He’d responded to a domestic violence call shortly after midnight that turned into an all-nighter at Emergency in Essex, waiting for a rape kit to be processed so he could take it back to the station. He was still an unknown quantity t
o the local medical departments and victim support services, which didn’t help given that the victim involved was mightily pissed off at him. Her ex-husband was claiming she’d hit him with a heavy bookend, which constituted a weapon, and was claiming she struck first. None of it was good, some of it was truly awful, and because he had to explore all of it, he probably hadn’t done enough to acknowledge the awful.

He didn’t shy away from complicated, and he knew his role—collect evidence and information to build a file, and possibly a case or cases, as warranted. At the end of the day, or night in this case, as long as he acted appropriately, it didn’t matter if anyone liked him. But it was a long, quiet night of harsh looks as people came and went from the exam room. The woman had made it clear she didn’t want him there, she wanted someone else to
transport the rape kit, but there wasn’t anyone else available.

In the end, she’d listened to a nurse practitioner who found the right words to explain the importance of chain of custody, and shortly before dawn Paul headed back to Wardham with a sealed cardboard box.

Waiting in the antiseptic corridor on a vinyl padded chair had given him plenty of time to replay the unexpected encounter with Karen from the previous day. He’d done a lot of fantasizing about what sex with her might be like, but the real thing, albeit across a driveway and through a phone line, was hotter than he imagined. But that wasn’t where his thoughts ended up in the middle of the night, surrounded by the proof that life can sometimes veer horribly off-track. That people can damage each other. Goodness was fleeting, and he’d touched goodness now more than once. It was time to stop pretending that he wasn’t lucky for it. Time to stop testing the stretch of that luck.

He was no stranger to dirty sex. For a long time, it was the only kind of sex he had. After Susan, he hadn’t wanted another serious relationship, and nothing advertised that a hookup was casual better than being explicit about carnal intent.

But yesterday had been almost exactly the reverse. The harder each of them pushed against their growing attraction, the tighter the web around them gathered. There was nothing casual about his feelings toward Karen. He wasn’t delusional—there were still significant road blocks to his life being relationship-friendly. But he was tired of pretending that he didn’t want more of her. Her mouth, to start with. Her heart and mind, too. Her body, wrapped around his, and not just for a night.

Dating.
He thought he’d sworn it off forever, but Karen was different. They’d have to take it slow, and he’d need to make it clear up front that Megan-time was sacred, but that wouldn’t be a problem. She’d probably kneecap him for thinking otherwise.

He was grinning as he changed at the station, enough so that the desk clerk commented on his mood as he headed out to his car. He just waved and kept going. It probably wouldn’t take long for the entire town to find out about their relationship, but he wasn’t giving anyone a head start with the gossip.

The shit-eating grin didn’t waver as he quietly pulled into their shared drive and parked his car in his garage. It was inevitable that they’d meet, being neighbours, but he was glad he’d parked between their houses long enough to rile her up. The image of her striding toward him, arms streaked with dirt, sun glinting off her mahogany hair, breasts bouncing lightly under her t-shirt, would always make him smile. A woman on a mission. She had no idea how determined she could be. How fierce.

He thought about dashing into his house and having a quick shower, but he was bagged. He didn’t want a quick fuck with Karen. Well, he did, and would always, but not today. Not their first time. He wanted to share a cup of coffee with her, and soak in her goodness, and then crawl into bed and recharge so they could have a real date that night.
Maybe crack open the box of condoms he’d bought last week. The box he’d he told himself he wasn’t going to need.
Liar
.

He rapped twice on her back door and
stretched his arm up high, resting his forearm against the frame, so when she opened the door and stepped forward, she was close enough to catch around the waist and he pulled her tight against him. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Hi, you.”
She tilted her face toward his, which didn’t take much, as their bodies aligned perfectly. “You coming in?”

“In a minute.
First…good morning.” He drifted the tip of his nose against hers, relishing the slow smile that crawled across her face before he lowered his mouth to cover hers. She tasted like orange juice, and the pure greatness of that almost brought him to his knees. He threaded his free hand into her curls and lost himself in all that was soft. Her hair, her mouth, the swell of her hip under his other hand. It was all just exactly what he wanted. What he needed.

“Long night?”
Karen whispered the question against his face, seemingly happy to stay wrapped in his arms in her doorway. He nodded and she buried her face in his neck, transferring her happy morning warmth to him. “I’ve got coffee, or I can make tea if you’ll have trouble falling asleep?”

He squeezed her hip and signaled that they could move inside. “
Fifteen years of shift work. I don’t have any problem falling asleep. Coffee would be great.”

He told her what he could
about his shift, which wasn’t much, and she brought him a steaming mug and the carton of milk from the fridge. She confessed she had been ignoring his text messages, thinking they were random spam. When he made a face at the idea his texts were so generic, she reached across the table and squeezed his hand. He twisted his palm so their fingers interlaced. Her fingertips teased at his knuckles, but he felt that barest of touches like a direct caress against his groin.

Meeting her gaze wasn’t any better. She was throwing off pheromones and heat all over the place. He’d put that chemistry to good use later. “I was thinking you could come over to my place later to watch a movie.”

“That’s as good a cover story as any, I guess.” She giggled so hard she snorted, and then blushed. He loved all of that, but he was serious about the movie.

“I’m not going to deny that after we watch a film, I’m going to do my best to get you naked and in my bed. That’s going to happen. But I also want to spend time with you.”

She narrowed her gaze, like she was trying to parse what he said for hidden meaning. Jesus, why was it such a foreign concept to her that she was desirable? Worthy of dating? Totally and utterly wantable?

“Is it me?” He teased, but maybe she really didn’t want to date him. “Are you afraid I only watch zombie movies?”

“Zombies would be okay. A reason to cuddle, anyway.” A tentative smile. “Although I’d rather watch an action flick, or a classic Bond film, something like that.”

“So it’s a date?”

“It’s a plan, anyway.”

They’d work on the language later. He’d get creative in ways to convince her it was a date.
Hands-on creative. But now wasn’t the time, not while she was being skittish, so he turned his attention to the milk carton on the table. He would have thought she’d be a ceramic milk pitcher person. He liked that she wasn’t, or at least wasn’t with him. “Do you have a matching sugar and creamer set?”

She shot him a startled look. “Sure…do you want to use it?”

An honest to goodness belly laugh rippled out from his core, and he pulled her around the table and into his lap. “God, no. I was just thinking…it doesn’t matter. Come here, kiss me again.”

She did, but then she pulled back and pinned him under a challenging gaze. “I still want to know.”

“I like that you don’t think of me as a guest.”

Her face softened.
In a big way. “Yeah. I don’t. That’s weird, huh?”

He shrugged. “It’s good. It means this is something real.”