Just like that, p.16
Just Like That, page 16
She wiggled.
“And here.” He pressed his lips to the inside of her left thigh.
Her legs moved restlessly, parting further.
“Where else?” she asked.
“Big toe?” he teased.
She shook her head. “Higher.”
“Right knee.”
“Higher.”
He licked along the crease of her left hip.
“To the right,” she gasped.
“Show me,” he said huskily.
She wet her lips and moved her left hand from the mattress to her stomach. Then slid it slowly downward, until her fingertips touched the soft curls right in front of him.
But she didn’t move any further.
He placed a kiss on top of her mound right at her fingertips, then lifted his head and waited.
“More,” she encouraged.
“Where?”
She slid her fingers a little farther. “Here,” she whispered.
“Show me, Dani. Show me where you want me.”
His heart almost stopped when she pulled her right knee up, let it fall open, then moved her hand, parting the soft, pink folds.
His mouth went dry. He was the luckiest son of a bitch ever.
“God, Dani,” he said with true reverence.
“Now you show me,” she said.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He lowered his head and kissed her. The answering moan seemed to vibrate clear to his bones and he wanted nothing more than to make her sound like that again. He licked up and down along the folds on either side, holding her hips still so that she didn’t buck him off. Then he flicked his tongue over her clit.
“Sam.” Her fingers tensed in his hair.
He licked again and again over the sweet spot, then looked up when he felt her hold on his head give. Her eyes were shut, her breathing erratic and she had moved her hand to her left breast. She squeezed her nipple and he thought he might happily stay right here for the rest of his life.
But then she moved her hand to the headboard, pushing up against the wood, causing her body to press down against him and he rewarded her by sucking her clit into his mouth.
“Sam,” she cried.
He wanted to take her over the edge. More than anything. He slipped first one finger, then another into her as he sucked again and a moment later the orgasm crashed over her. She called out his name yet again and Sam didn’t think he’d ever felt quite so good.
“You are my favorite person in the world,” she said nearly a minute later, her whole body limp, her eyes shut.
He crawled up her body, thinking he’d never seen anything as beautiful as Danika sexually sated.
“Thank you,” he said, kissing her.
She chuckled. “I could say the same.”
“No need. I hardly consider that a favor.”
She rolled to her side. “Now what?” She put her hand on his hip, then slid it around and stroked it along his erection.
He almost jumped off of the bed.
“Um, I…” He scrambled to the foot of the bed and pushed himself to standing. “I need to, um…go to the bathroom.”
He wanted to plunge into her. Over and over. Again and again. In every position he could think of.
Then he might as well marry her, because he’d never want to leave.
And if he married her, then he might as well get a divorce lawyer on retainer for her because he’d disappoint her, or forget something important, or make a promise he couldn’t keep within a few months and she’d want out.
He did not want to pay a divorce lawyer a retainer for his inevitable screw-up.
So he was not going to take his pants off in Danika’s bedroom.
He escaped to the bathroom and locked the door.
Going home would make more sense. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to, but he also couldn’t. She was hurt.
Right this minute he doubted she even remembered she had a wrist, not to mention a fracture or a cast. But as soon as she tried to do anything she’d be stuck.
He had to get control. Somehow.
A moment later, he stepped into the shower, turned much colder than he generally liked it. He soaped up and then stood under the spray, his head resting on his forearm braced on the cool tile.
He tried thinking about football, his work schedule, his sister’s birthday party, what he had going on that weekend, but nothing could keep his mind from Danika. Not when the soap, the shower stall, the very bathroom smelled like her.
There was only one solution to his problem.
It was easy enough to conjure up the mental picture of Danika, lying back on the bed, her body open and willing, giving herself to him. Within minutes he’d taken care of the worst of his problem and was able to dry off without feeling like he was about to explode.
He knew it wouldn’t last. But at least he would be able to face her without doing something that would alter both their lives forever.
Sam rolled his eyes. He was probably overreacting. He was definitely being melodramatic. This was crazy. But he knew the problem. He didn’t just want her. He didn’t just desire her. He liked her.
Dammit. He liked helping her, liked being the one to take care of her, liked being the one to completely satisfy her.
Liking women was always dangerous.
Wanting them, he could handle. Enjoying them, he could deal with. Admiring them, he could even allow.
But liking them was nothing but trouble.
* * *
Danika lay in bed, growing more and more confused and irritated.
At first, she’d barely been able to move, feeling like a limp noodle, every cell in her body humming with a mixture of contentment and anticipation.
Sam had made her feel things she would have never believed possible if someone had described it to her. But she knew there was more and if Sam was even half as good at that part, she wasn’t going to be moving for days.
But she’d listened to the shower run. Which made no sense. They hadn’t done anything…dirty. Yet.
Then she heard him go out into the kitchen.
He was hungry. Okay, she could live with that. He needed to keep his energy up.
But fifteen minutes later he still wasn’t back in the bedroom and her body had recovered enough that she could get upright. She headed for the kitchen, but when she stepped into the hallway there were no lights on.
She proceeded into the living room with a frown. The light from outside shone in through the sliding glass door illuminating the form lying on her couch.
Sam’s form. On the couch. Instead of with her.
What was going on?
She started across the room, trying to decide if she was going to shake him awake or wake him up by arousing him. There was one part of him that she did understand and knew how to interact with.
Did he think she was done with him?
But just as she skirted the coffee table she thought about what Carmen had said—she was one of the crowd to Sam.
Danika came up short and stared at the lump on her couch.
He evidently felt he was done with her.
Not only was she one of many, apparently she wasn’t even special enough to take his pants off for.
He’d practically run from her bedroom when she’d tried to continue their love-making.
More than hurt, she was…offended. It wasn’t like he would have had to endure having sex with her. She was fairly certain that he wasn’t faking that erection she’d felt.
Even so, it was more than obvious that she wasn’t tempting him into losing his mind as he was her. He was fast asleep on the couch while she was naked in the bed in the next room, for heaven’s sake.
Admittedly feeling a bit humiliated, she turned back for the bedroom, choosing to not demand to know why Sam didn’t want more of her. She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.
On her way back to bed, a terrible thought struck that literally stopped her—maybe she was a vanilla cupcake to Sam.
Good, but not great. Fine, but not worth indulging in.
She stomped to the bed, yanked the blanket back and threw, quite literally, the decorative pillows out of the way.
No. Sam didn’t think she was vanilla. Unless he really liked vanilla.
But then why had he left? If she was his favorite flavor there was no way…
Her cheeks heated at the memory of how well Sam knew the taste of her.
He definitely hadn’t acted repulsed or like he was forcing himself through the act.
He’d been as crazy for her as she had been for him.
Then again, he hadn’t unbuttoned even a single button.
She pulled a T-shirt out of her dresser, slamming the drawer shut, not caring if she woke Sam up. In fact, if she did, she had a few things she’d like to say to him.
About how rude it was to leave in the midst of her seduction. About how inconsiderate it was to make someone question their appeal after making her as vulnerable as she’d ever been. About how unfair it was that she hadn’t had the same chance he had to look, and touch, and taste.
He’d been great about what she needed. But he evidently didn’t need anything in return.
How selfish.
He’d made her want him, made her let him do all kinds of things she should have fought, and then went to sleep like she was just another boring dessert, forgettable after that first taste.
Jerk.
Fine. She wasn’t a fudge brownie to Sam. He was stuck with her for a few more days whether he had a craving for sweets or not.
And if she wasn’t going to get sex, then he was going to have to make himself useful in some other way.
8
Sam awoke to a terrible crashing and pounding in the front hallway. He rolled over and groaned. He hadn’t slept well, haunted by dreams of Danika—in which he did all of the things he’d wanted to do the night before, but had resisted.
He pushed himself to his feet and went to investigate the ruckus. He was met by the delectable sight of Danika on hands and knees, butt toward him. Well, hand—singular—and knees. She was dressed in a pair of faded gray cotton shorts and a light blue T-shirt. It wasn’t anything unusual or sexy at all, yet he found his libido roaring to life anyway. It was Danika. That was all it took.
She looked to be attempting to pull up the edge of the linoleum in the corner near the front door and she certainly wasn’t trying to be quiet about it. She tossed the heavy wrench she’d been using into the metal toolbox from three feet away, causing a grand crash. Then she took the claw of a hammer to the area. That also didn’t work, so she tossed the hammer back into the toolbox as well. Finally, the screwdriver she picked up seemed to be satisfactory and she was able to wedge the tip under the edge of the linoleum. But as she tried to pry the tile up, her hand slipped, banging her knuckles into the baseboard. That resulted in a loud string of cursing.
She definitely wasn’t trying to keep quiet so that he could sleep in.
Sam propped his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms, careful not to grin in case she looked back at him.
He guessed she was upset about the fact that he hadn’t come back to bed.
Which was good. She’d wanted him to come back.
“Damn son-of-a-bitch shitting thing.” She pushed back until she was balanced on the balls of her feet and didn’t just toss the screwdriver into the toolbox, but threw it in with more than enough force to propel it the distance needed.
“Need some help?”
She whirled around to face him, coming to her feet. “Yes.” She didn’t apologize for the noise, or ask how he’d slept, or thank him again for the night before, or even say please.
“With what exactly?”
“I was planning to redo this floor this week.” She stood with her hands on her hips and Sam instantly noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Terrific. That would make everything so much easier.
“Redo?” he repeated. “As in pull the linoleum up and put something else down?”
“Right.”
“You can’t do that with one hand,” he pointed out unnecessarily.
She raised an eyebrow. “No kidding.”
“I suppose I could do it.”
She shrugged. “I suppose.”
“I’ve never redone a floor.” He looked at the linoleum with a critical eye. “Sounds hard.”
“I’ll coach you.” She headed for the kitchen while he stood studying the floor and the tool box.
He got the general idea. The linoleum had to be removed—somehow—and new linoleum—or something—had to be installed—somehow.
He was going to need major coaching.
Two minutes later, Danika returned with a glass of orange juice, a magazine and her phone in hand. She opened the closet door just off the entryway and pulled out a lawn chair, which she unfolded and set in the doorway between the front hall and the living room. She set the glass on the floor next to her, inserted an earbud into one ear, swiped her phone screen, and flipped open her magazine.
He couldn’t help the grin. He also couldn’t help but notice that the magazine pulled down on the front of her shirt, making the material tighter across her braless breasts.
“What’s first, boss?” he asked.
“Tear that linoleum up,” she said without looking up.
“With what?”
“Whatever you can find.”
There was a utility knife and a crowbar in the bottom of her toolbox and Sam went to work loosening the tile and prying it off of the subfloor. Eventually his stomach would demand he pay attention to it, but for now he’d let Danika play foreman. He did, however, pause long enough to peel his T-shirt off. He was likely to get sweaty doing this work, after all. A glance in her direction showed her still focused on the magazine article in front of her, but her lips were pressed together in a thin line. She’d noticed.
Since he didn’t have his phone, he decided that he’d have to entertain himself. He started humming the first song that came to mind. “Camp Town Races”. He was sure that he could thank Tommie from the ER for that one. Still, it made him smile.
The linoleum proved easier to remove than he’d expected and he soon had it peeled back from the door to the front leg of Danika’s chair. He was on to humming “You Give Love A Bad Name” by Bon Jovi. He was also nearly up against Danika’s leg with his bare shoulder.
He brushed against her a moment later, appreciating the silky smoothness of the leg she had crossed over the other.
“Do you have to hum?” she snapped as soon as their skin touched.
“Yep,” he said without looking up.
“Why?” She sounded very irritated.
“Because I don’t have any music and you’re not talking, so I need something to keep me going while I slave away down here.”
“You want me to talk?”
“Sure.”
“About what?”
“Anything. How about telling me how you know enough to even consider doing this floor by yourself before you got hurt?”
She sighed and laid the magazine down on her lap. Sam noticed that it was open to the same page it had been when she sat down. Interesting.
“I told you the other night that I make a point of knowing how to do all kinds of things. Especially things that I might need done someday.”
“How did you learn this?”
“I read about it, looked it up online, and talked to the guys at the flooring store where I bought the new stuff.”
“This linoleum doesn’t look that bad,” he said. “Why go to all this work? You rent here anyway, don’t you?”
“Yes. I got permission from my landlord to do it. He knows I do a good job because of all the other projects I’ve done.”
Sam looked up at her. She didn’t seem too upset about conversing instead of reading. She’d even pulled the earpiece out from her ear.
“What other projects?”
“I started with my own stuff. I recovered my couch and a chair. I refinished the coffee table. But then I wanted to redo some stuff that was a part of the duplex. He let me redo the light fixtures and then I installed a new sink and faucet in the bathroom. Ever since that, he’ll let me do just about anything.”
Sam had stopped working and knelt in front of her, staring. “You did all of that by yourself? Just teaching yourself all of it as you went along?”
“Yes.” She looked at him warily as if waiting for him to tell her she was nuts.
“That’s amazing.” He meant it. He admired people who stepped outside the box, who wanted to learn and try new things. That wasn’t something he was particularly good at. He liked things to stay the same, stable, predictable. It seemed that it was just easier to handle life when it went according to plan. But he often thought about trying something new, living someplace else, taking up a new hobby.
“Thanks.” She smiled. “I started teaching myself stuff in college. That’s how I learned to cook and bake, how I learned to speak French, and how to play the guitar. But then I realized that I needed to learn practical things. So I started out with automotive stuff. I took a class at a community college. And I loved it.”
Her eyes glowed when she talked about it and Sam made himself return to the floor lest he grab her and kiss her. Which would lead to all kinds of other things that he was still determined to avoid. For ten more nights.
“Then I started teaching it to other women and that forced me to keep learning new things. Which I love.”
“You teach this stuff to other women?” he asked.
“I went to grad school in Kansas City and some fellow students and I started a women’s group. It was part-support, part-educational. I took the education part. I taught them all the stuff I knew about cars, plumbing, electrical wiring…everything. I’ve been in Omaha for over a year now and I miss it, so I’m getting another group started.”
He stopped and looked up at her. It was strange. It didn’t bother him that Danika knew more about plumbing than he did. In fact, he thought it was cool that she could probably hot-wire a car. But he had to ask, “Why?”
She sat up straighter. “To teach women that they don’t need men.”
He frowned, annoyed. “Do you burn bras too?”
