Half Moon Hill: A Destiny Novel Page 27

  “I thought it was an aberration of my senses, a mad dream.”

  Gaston Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera

  Twenty

  “Duke,” she said, her voice coming out too whispery, and trying like hell not to feel what she felt, “what are you doing?”

  “Touching you.” And oh God, those gray eyes of his had never looked warmer, or more seductive.

  “But, um—” She stopped, swallowed. Get hold of yourself. Push his hand away. Tell him he’s crazy if he thinks you’d let anything like that happen now. Yet she couldn’t quite manage those things, it seemed. Maybe she’d forgotten exactly how good he had the power to make her feel. With just one little touch. And that, she was forced to remember, was nothing compared to the promises that touch held. “I thought we, um . . . didn’t do that anymore.”

  “Touch?” he rasped.

  And something in the mere word, combined with his hand still on her thigh, nearly buried her.

  But be strong here. “Yes, touch,” she said. “Or anything else. Like . . . kiss. Or have sex.” Crap, it would really help if I stopped sounding so . . . breathy. Like a woman on the verge of being seduced. And it would help if I didn’t feel like one, either. “It’s . . . it’s not fair to me,” she managed to say. “On again, off again—and you get to make all the decisions about that?”

  “I . . . I guess I was thinking,” he began—and then his fingertips were moving, beginning to caress, and she was trying to hide how thready it suddenly turned her breath. “I was thinking we could maybe . . . do what we talked about in the beginning. Just . . . keep it light.”

  She blew out a breath, the spot between her legs tingling wildly.

  Part of her couldn’t believe this was happening, that it was even real. Talk about out of the blue. And another part of her was remembering what she’d just told herself, that there was no way she’d ever let anything more happen between them after the way he’d hurt her. Yet then there was this whole other part—and it was mostly the part that pulsed with desire. Need. Hunger. And that part . . . well, that part seemed willing to be swayed. Chemistry could be a very powerful thing.

  “The thing is . . .” she began—but it was hard to think straight the way he touched her.

  “The thing is that . . . it’s just not the right time for me to get into a big, heavy relationship—you know that. We talked about that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still have a good time together.”

  She sucked in her breath. She appreciated what he was saying, that he was at least trying to explain, but . . . “Duke, I . . . I don’t know . . .”

  “Yes you do,” he murmured deeply. “You know you want this as bad as I do.” And then he slid his hand higher, higher, to the edge of her shorts, his fingers flirting with the edges, then slipping just inside.

  To her near shame, she let out a small gasp. Was he worth it? Worth knowing he didn’t feel what she did? Worth going down that emotionally rocky road again? Part of her wanted to just push him away and say no. But their eyes had stayed locked the whole time and she knew hers gave her away—so maybe a mere gasp didn’t matter.

  That’s when he pushed to his feet as well. And then he was taking the paint tray from her grasp, lowering it to the porch. And then his hands were on her hips and his body pressed to hers and he said, their mouths less than an inch apart, “I want you so fucking bad, Daisy. Don’t make either one of us suffer.”

  And then he kissed her. And she had a split second to make a decision—at least about the kiss. And she kissed him back. Because it was too delicious. And his hands on her were too warm and sure. And she loved him too much to push him away.

  She knew she probably shouldn’t let this happen, that she’d only get hurt even worse in the end, but . . . at least if she was going in with her eyes wide open, it meant she was making an informed decision. And he was telling her right up front this time that he didn’t want this to go anywhere, so wouldn’t knowing that from the start help her handle it better? And besides . . . how could she resist the man she’d fallen in love with?

  Next, Duke was moving them, maneuvering her body back against one of the thick, round posts that held up the porch’s awning. And she was unwittingly curling one leg around his, locking their pelvises together, because he was as hard as a rock against the crux of her thighs, and it was the best thing she’d felt since the last time they’d been together, and she wanted more.

  Her body simply took over when Duke’s hands dropped to her ass and he hoisted her upward, murmuring, “Wrap your legs around my waist,” against her lips. She did as he said, fully supported by him now, her back still against the post.

  And then she was moving against him, grinding hotly, too excited to stop, her breath heavy, quick. They’d ceased kissing at some point and her eyes had fallen shut, but she felt every inch of where their bodies connected. She drank in the heady, musky, still-woodsy scent of him, and when he said, “Come for me, Anna,” the words trickled down her spine the same as if his fingers skimmed along her back—and she exploded in pleasure in his arms. She didn’t hold back because she couldn’t—and Duke had seen her every intimate response and behavior already anyway, so there was no urge to hold back with him. She cried out her climax on the front porch just before noon as vigorously as she ever had in her bedroom in the dark.

  The next thing she knew, he was kissing her some more, and carrying her—down the wooden steps and into the cool green grass beneath the maple tree where Robert had once pushed Cathy in a swing. He laid her down, undressed her, the carpet of grass soft against her back. She worked at his zipper, pushed at his T-shirt until it came off over his head. It was a good time not to have neighbors—and the tree trunk was thick enough to block them from view should any rare traffic pass by.

  She parted her legs beneath him willingly, lovingly, ready to welcome him. And he pushed his stiffened length inside her, filling her up, making her feel whole again. They both let out soft noises at the entry, and she could hear them breathing. Fats Domino sang “I Want to Walk You Home” somewhere in the distance.

  Without meaning to, Anna clawed her fingernails into his shoulders as he suckled her breast. She arched against him. She never wanted it to end. She tried to just be in the moment, appreciate it for what it was, and not think of later, when it might hurt to remember he didn’t want this to mean anything. Just enjoy this now—that’s all there is.

  At some point, the music stopped playing—clearly the last record in the stack had dropped. A warm summer breeze sifting through the leaves above them was the only sound other than their gentle moans.

  And it made her sad in a way when he eventually rasped, “Baby, I’m coming—I’m coming,” because the end meant facing her fears, her emotions.

  Shut them out. Be the confident girl, the cool girl. She knew how—or at least she always had, before Duke. And there was a lot of self-protection in that, and that seemed like a good idea right now. Be the old you, the you who could handle stuff, let it roll off your back and not let it weigh you down.

  And so as he slumped gently against her, she hugged him to her, felt his heartbeat against hers, and affectionately kissed his neck—but then she did what she had to do, she threw back on an invisible coat of armor and pretended this was casual.

  A moment later, he was smiling sexily down into her eyes. “Mmm, Daisy, that was great.”

  And she tried her armor on for size, testing it out by smiling back and simply saying, “Yeah—it was.”

  Still on top of her, he pulled back slightly, squinting a bit, looking more speculative. “So . . . you’re okay with what I said? That we just . . . keep it light.”

  I’m not sure how to. But she shut that voice out and again said, “Yeah.” Though she needed to say more. To convince them both that she meant it. “I know your future is . . . uncertain. So we’ll just . . . enjoy each other for now—with no promises.” Yeah, that sounded good. And confident Anna could almost even really go there. There was noth
ing wrong with a relationship like that if both people were in sync on it and felt the same way. I can feel that way. I will feel that way. I do feel that way. Because he’s just too damn good to pass up.

  “Good,” he said, dropping a playful kiss on the ridge of her breast. Then he rolled gently off her to lie beside her in the grass, looking down at her, head propped on one elbow. It surprised her when he even let out a small laugh. “Can you imagine,” he asked, “if Mike knew what you and I have been doing together?”

  A worry she’d harbored before. But she realized that now, despite earlier hopes . . . “Well, I’m sure he’d go ballistic, but since it’s just temporary, we’ll probably never have to worry about that.”

  After that, working with Duke was easier, and a lot more fun. Because things quickly got . . . normal again. He started talking to her again. There was more laughter, and teasing. And though he didn’t stay the night that first night, he did the next. It was just easier, he said.

  “But no heavy stuff, Daisy, okay?” he’d asked.

  She’d been in the bathroom connected to her bedroom, brushing her teeth, when he’d said that from the bed. After rinsing, she’d come out in the cami and panties she’d put on after sex, holding up her hands in playful defense. “I haven’t said one heavy word. And for what it’s worth,” she told him, sliding into bed next to him, “I never set out to make things heavy before. I was just . . . interested in you. I mean, you find a guy living in your woods, you just kinda want to know why. Ya know?”

  He let out a soft laugh and she noticed how it made his scar crinkle, even through the light, sexy, unshaven scruff on his jaws. “I guess I can get that. Just didn’t at the time, that’s all.”

  “But now . . . well, now I know all the answers. So no more questions. No more pressure to get back out in the world if you don’t want to—it’s none of my business. From now on I’m just . . . enjoying the ride.”

  “I’ll take ya for a ride, all right,” he said, his eyes going all smoldery and seductive in a heartbeat as he slid one hand over her hip.

  “You already did,” she reminded him happily.

  And as she rolled over to go to sleep a few minutes later, he curled around her. Just like old times. But these are new times—don’t forget that. This is temporary. And that’s okay. Because he rocks your world and your world needs to be rocked some more. And you can be perfectly happy taking from him whatever he chooses to give.

  And as she drifted off in Duke’s strong arms, she finally believed that. It had taken over a day of internal pep talks, but she really felt it now—she was living in the moment, back to having a fun, wild, casual affair with no big worries or commitments. She was confident, cool Anna again. And it felt damn good.

  Duke woke in the night, aware that she lay in his arms. He looked down at her, the room dimly illuminated by moonlight, and thought how amazing she was, and how beautiful, and the mere knowledge of those things stretched all through him, through his muscles and all the way down into his bones, and made him want to hold her tighter.

  Until he remembered to follow his own rules and not feel those things. Even though it was hard not to. Even though he knew it hadn’t been very fair of him to start this up again between them with no warning, telling her it had to be this way—no big deal, just casual.

  During the day, and even the evenings, it was easy—just spending time together, just having fun in bed. But waking up in the middle of the night, when he wasn’t quite as in control of his mind, it came harder. It’s still best, though. It was still the only way he could do this, the only way he could be with her without letting the weight of it crush him. And whatever that weight was about—well, he chose not to think about it and to follow the instinct to just push it up off him, one way or another. So that was what he was doing. Making this situation workable for now. And keeping himself safe. And keeping her safe, too—because one of these days she’d figure out what he already knew: that she deserved a better guy than him.

  All in all, he thought it was going pretty well. Most of the time.

  So that was what he focused on. The times when it felt good, and simple, and easy. And as for how it felt right now . . . well, he’d just fall back asleep and push it away again.

  A few days later, Anna returned home from Under the Covers in the early evening to find a note from Duke on the kitchen counter:

  Gone fishing. Be back by dark. Took a sandwich, so don’t need dinner tonight.

  And she couldn’t help smiling. It was like . . . he was normal. Like they were in a normal relationship.

  But wait, don’t fool yourself, Anna. It’s not a real relationship—or at least not a committed one. And she’d fully adjusted to that idea now. Yet she still thought it was nice that when he’d needed some alone time, he’d let her know he was taking it. And he’d told her he was coming back.

  So Anna took a shower, put on a T-shirt and cotton shorts—pajamas for her—and after eating part of a leftover salad she and Duke had made the night before, she curled up with Cathy’s diary again. A cool evening breeze floated into the screened porch.

  And finally, finally came the part that Anna had known surely would, but reading it gave her chills anyway.

  This is surely the most amazing day of my life. I feel . . . whole. Like there was a part of me missing all this time but I just didn’t know it. And now I will always want that wholeness. Always.

  After school I told Mother I was taking a walk because the fall colors are so pretty just now—and I took the pictures in the little black frames I bought out to the cabin to give to Robert for his birthday, along with a cupcake I purposely brought home from the Sunday school party at church yesterday, just to save for him.

  I could tell he was very moved, and I realized that probably not many people had done many things to make him feel special in his life. I was glad I had.

  But that’s not the amazing part. No, that part came when he asked me to sit down on his little bed with him and he began to kiss me. His kisses are like heaven to me, and I’d been craving them since the last time we met. And soon enough we were lying down on the bed together, all our limbs mingling like wild growing vines.

  Just like that day in the meadow, Robert began to undress me, but this time he didn’t stop. And I didn’t ask him to. I did tell him at one point that I felt a little shy, and so we got under a blanket and that took it away. He was very sweet the whole time, and he asked me more than once if I was sure. I told him I’d never been surer of anything.

  He said he loved me and I returned it again. The words fall from my lips so easily now—they’re almost the only thought in my head at any given moment when I’m with him. Or even now that I’m away from him. I love you I love you I love you

  I am a woman now, as they say. And I do indeed feel older, wiser—as I said before, more whole. But I don’t feel . . . womanly. I am a girl in love with a boy. And I am a girl in love with life. I never knew it could be so sweet and joyful until Robert.

  It hurt at first, but he warned me it would, and he kissed the pain away. And after that, there was simply . . . how can I describe it? A connection like no other. It was our two bodies joining, but also our souls. I had no idea. Just no idea.

  Leaving him was difficult. But sleep will be sweet.

  I love you I love you I love you

  When the back screen door opened, Anna looked up, tears in her eyes.

  Duke said, “I caught enough bluegill to grill up for dinner tomorrow night if you want.” And then he realized she was crying and looked alarmed. “Geez, Daisy, I left you a note—said I’d be back.”

  And she let out a laugh through her tears, reaching her fingers up to wipe them away. “I know that and that’s not why I’m crying, silly,” she told him. Then she sniffed, and tried to be her slightly more sophisticated self. “Besides, we’re casual, remember? I appreciated the note, but I’m cool with the ‘no promises’ thing—really.”

  He lowered his chin, looking wary.
“Then what are you crying about?”

  She gave her head a quick shake. “Just something I read.”

  “What?”

  She supposed there was no harm in telling him, so she held up the diary. “This belonged to the girl who lived here back in the fifties,” she said.

  “The one who left the records and other stuff you told me about.”

  She nodded. “This is Cathy’s diary and . . .” Okay, don’t ruin things by talking about mushy stuff like first love. “And it just makes me emotional sometimes.”

  “Bad stuff happen to her?” His brow knit.

  Though she was still getting over feeling weepy, she smiled. “No, good stuff mostly. It just makes me realize how . . . fleeting life can be. How quickly it all passes by. And it’s strange to read something written by someone whose life was really just beginning then but who’s dead now.”

  He nodded, looking like he was taking that in. But then he said, “That’s kinda deep, Daisy.”

  She laughed, rolled her eyes. “Well, you asked. So if that’s too deep for you, tell me about your fish.”

  “Well, they were small and blue and I feel emotional because their lives were really just starting but they’re dead now.”

  Anna gasped at his humor, then set the diary aside, hopped to her feet, and ran over to smack him on the arm for making fun of her. But soon enough his arms were around her and they were kissing—and then running hand in hand for the bedroom.

  Anna was working at Under the Covers by herself when the door opened and Jeremy Sheridan walked in. Did he look even more handsome than she remembered? But even if he did, she cringed inside—because she’d sort of forgotten he existed—that quick.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said, flashing a winning smile.

  “Um, hey.” She smiled back, but feared it appeared wooden.