4

Chapter 4

She tasted like honey.

Odd

and

yet,

not

entirely

unexpected.

Her lips were soft, opening on a

sigh. He took her invitation and took

the kiss deeper, his tongue sliding

into her mouth.

His hand remained in hers, though

he wanted to haul her close and take

her to the couch. He hadn’t wanted to

get horizontal on a woman with this

much intensity in a very long time.

The more he tasted, the more he

wanted until need beat in his head

like a pulse.

The depth and intensity of his

desire shook him. Hit him so hard he

had to fist the hand she wasn’t

holding to keep it from shaking.

He kissed like a master. Daisy

knew she was in way over her head

and all he’d done was kiss her. They

weren’t even touching except for lips

and tongues and his hand in hers, but

it was enough. Enough that it was a

full-body caress when he groaned as

she sucked his tongue.

So very controlled, this man. But it

was there, just under the surface.

Levi Warner was a very dominant

male and she wondered if that

extended to his sexuality.

Hoped so. It wasn’t that she’d had

many dominant lovers or anything.

But he’d awakened something inside

her. Curiosity, yes, but a sense of

satisfaction in letting him lead.

Something she’d never experienced

before.

The weight of his focus on her was

tangible. It made her a little drunk,

needing more even as she barely

managed to process what he gave her

through a simple kiss.

It was enough to let him lead the

kiss, enough to step back and wait for

whatever he had in mind next.

Her body ached, her nipples

throbbed and her pussy was wet and

swollen. She shivered, imagining

what he’d be like naked. In her bed.

In his bed with her in it. Whatever, it

didn’t matter where, the naked part

was important.

He was patient. So very patient as

he continued to kiss her. A nip of her

bottom lip that had her gasping for

air. His beard stubble gave her just

the right amount of friction. Nearly

painful. Enough to make her imagine

what it’d feel like against the skin of

her inner thighs as he went down on

her. And she bet he did it well. If his

kissing was any indicator, he’d be a

marvelous pussy eater.

With a sharp intake of breath he

broke the kiss and stared at her. His

pupils were huge again and it gave

her yet another shiver of delight.

“I should go.”

“You should?” She grabbed the

front of his shirt without meaning to

and released it quickly. If he left,

she’d never speak to him again.

“Christ.” He scrubbed a hand

through his hair and she let the other

one go. Whatever it was he was

fighting with himself over, he had to

deal with it. He was a big boy and

she sure as hell wasn’t his mother.

Nor did she plan to beg him to stay.

She knew her worth as a woman.

She’d been raised by not only a kick-

ass mother, but her grandmother and

sister were also strong, smart

women. Whatever her concerns about

her talent and art, she’d never beg a

man for his attention.

He wanted her or he didn’t. So she

sat back a little and let him work

through it.

“You’re too young. I shouldn’t

even be thinking about sex.”

She sighed. “You keep saying that.

I’m far over the age of consent. Also,

you’re assuming a lot. I don’t fuck on

the first date.”

Then he laughed and she felt better

for it.

“You’d leave me with blue balls?”

he teased.

“I’m too young? You give me that

line and talk about my age? I’m sure I

heard that one back in the day. Do

you think I’ll give you a pity hand

job?” She grinned. He was adorable

and damn, she might have broken her

no fucking on the first date rule

earlier, so it was probably good that

they both stepped back for a moment.

He made her feel…unfettered. And

as lovely as it was, no man had ever

made her want to jump so foolishly

into something.

He grinned back. “Well, all right,

it’s been some time since I’ve used

that line.”

“What’s next? Will you tell me

you’ll only put the tip in?”

He laughed and brought her to him,

plopping her into his lap and

squeezing her tight. And then he

paused, as if he were surprised. But

she liked it and wouldn’t let him

second-guess himself, so she gave

him a squirm to remind him she was

there, her ass against his cock, and

his eyes lost focus a moment until

they honed in on her mouth.

“When I put it in, it won’t be just

the tip.”

She gulped. She knew it. It

couldn’t be avoided. ’Cause hell

yeah.

“You’re very sure of yourself.”

“And you’re very breathless when

you say that.”

“I’m not afraid of your age. I want

to fuck you. I also want to eat four

cupcakes at once but I restrain myself

to two. I have self-control.” She

looked at him again. “Sometimes.

Anyway, I like it when men are sure

of themselves. Well, when they

deserve to be.”

“Is that so?” His eyes had

darkened and his grip tightened. His

cock was insistent against her

trousers and she nearly came from

how fucking hot it was.

“I don’t know. Do you deserve to

be?”

He slid his hand up her belly,

between her breasts, to her throat

where he collared her with his hand

and she couldn’t stop her sigh of

longing. Or of the way she seemed to

lose any rigidity in her spine and just

melted into him. It was as if he’d

flipped a switch inside her and she’d

gone gooey.

Pleasure pulsed through her, slow

and warm, leaving her lethargic.

He bent and kissed her again, his

hand still at her throat. He cradled

the back of her head with his arm and

devastated her mouth. This kiss was

more aggressive; his tongue slid

against hers, teasing and taking, and

when he nipped her bottom lip he

laved the sting and made her moan.

“I think I do, yes.” He placed her

next to him on the couch. “But I don’t

fuck on the first date either.”

She waited.

“What are you doing tomorrow

night?”

The second date was a totally

different set of rules.

“I’m actually busy. My friend is a

caterer and I help her out.”

His brow furrowed and she tried

very hard not to laugh. It was

probably the first time he’d heard no

in ages.

“Sunday then?”

“I’m free for breakfast or lunch. I

have plans in the evening.”

“I’ll be at a family thing on Sunday

until six.”

“Monday I’m free. After seven.

You can take me to a movie.”

“I don’t want to waste time in a

dark theater not looking at you.

You’re pretty amazing to look at.”

One of his brows slid up and she

tried not to giggle and just barely

made it. It would have blown the

whole age reassurance thing if she

had giggled. But he made her giddy,

damn it.

“You say some good stuff, Levi.”

“Monday night it is. How about

sushi?”

“All right.”

“I’ll pick you up here at seven.”

He stood. “Give me a tour.”

She allowed him to help her up.

“You’re imperious.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

He’d be worth it, she wagered.

“Obviously this is the living and

sleeping area.” She waved a hand at

her house. “Kitchen you’ve seen.”

He wandered, looking at her

pictures, her art. “What’s behind that

door?” He tipped his head to the left.

“Hm. I don’t know if I should

show you.”

“The bathroom? Is it a mess?”

She opened the door. “It’s my

room.”

He followed her inside and

paused. “You sleep out there to keep

all your clothes in here?”

“This is far more than a closet.”

She folded the throw she’d left on the

little fainting couch she’d picked up

at an estate sale the year before and

took in the space she’d made her own

in the years she’d lived in the little

house.

Her clothes did indeed take up not

just the small closet attached to the

room, but two walls as well with

pegs and shelves for all her various

accessories. But bookshelves lined

the third wall and a reading nook and

vanity desk and mirror was on the

last one.

He touched her clothes, a secret

smile on his face.

“Tell me why.”

“I can sleep out there just fine. But

this is where I go when I need to be

soothed, or to relax and read. I can

sew in here. I get dressed and put on

my makeup in here. Drink some wine,

think about my next project.”

“I like that. A room of your own,

so to speak.”

“Exactly. When I’m in here I don’t

answer the phone or the door. It’s

just alone time. I think you’re the first

man to have been in here who I

wasn’t related to.”

“An honor indeed.” He turned

around the room and realized she’d

revealed the inner heart of herself to

him. This room was her intimate

space. It smelled of her. Whatever

perfume she wore bore a faint, but

unmistakable mark on the air.

She had hats of all colors and sizes

on hooks and in round, pretty

hatboxes on shelves. Shoes of all

kinds. Her makeup table, and how he

loved to watch a woman get ready. A

flash of memory of Kelsey lining her

lips or dabbing perfume at her wrists

came to him. A nice memory.

But this woman was altogether a

different creature than Kelsey had

been. Confident. Generous. Here.

He pulled out a red dress,

examining it. Imagining how it would

look on her. He wanted to see it

against the warm tones of her skin.

“You’re a clotheshorse. I never

would have guessed that about you.”

“I love clothes. I always have.

When I was a little girl, I went with

my mom and grandmother a few

times a year to estate sales and

garage sales. We’d find clothes and

bags, pieces of furniture. It’s where I

began to accrue pieces for my first

mixed-media stuff.”

“You’ll wear this to sushi on

Monday.” He indicated the dress.

“Vintage. I bought that for twenty

dollars at a garage sale. I had to

replace the zipper. I hate putting in

zippers.” She took it from him, her

fingers caressing the material. “One

of my favorites.”

He didn’t disagree, only looked at

her dress and drifted past the shoes in

racks on one of the walls before

hanging it on a hook near the

bathroom door.

“Where do you work?”

“Studio. Come on then.” She

switched a nearby lamp off and

started to lead him from the room, but

he wasn’t ready to go just yet so he

snagged her as she passed, pulling

her close.

“Thank you for showing me your

room.” He brushed a kiss over her

lips.

“You’re welcome. Now you know

my secrets.”

“I doubt that.”

Her grin was cheeky as she led

him from the room and out the back

door.

It was a cold, clear night and the

yard was quiet as she led him through

it. In the distance he saw the bigger

house, her parents’ house, he figured.

The

lights

burned

against

the

windowpanes.

He could never live on the same

property with his parents. He loved

his family. But it was way easier to

love them when he lived out here and

they lived back in Seattle. The

distance was a good thing. He

wondered just how involved her

parents were in her life.

“I share the space with my

grandmother.” Daisy flipped on the

lights as they entered the studio

space.

“This is beautiful.” And it was.

Soaring ceilings with windows

would flood the space with light

during the daytime. Just then he could

see the stars high overhead.

“Thank you. My friend’s brother is

an architect. He did the plans and my

friends and family did nearly all the

building labor. We did have a

plumber and electrician in because

that was beyond our DIY skills.”

He walked through the space, in

awe. He hadn’t told her this, but he

was a huge art lover. He’d been

raised to appreciate the fine arts by a

mother who spent a lot of time and

energy fund-raising for various art

programs. He went to shows and

gallery openings on a monthly basis.

That Daisy was an artist as well as a

scorching hot woman only made her

harder to resist.

“This is all your stuff?”

“Down here, yes. My grandmother

has a perch. That’s what I call it. But

she has a little loft up there.” She

pointed to a space with a comfortable

chair, a couch and several easels.

“She wants to be left alone when she

works so she heads up there, puts

headphones on and does her thing.

This is all my space down here.”

Christ. To be her age and have so

much talent.

“How long have you been doing

this?”

“Those garage and estate sales I

told you about? I was six when I

bought this container of cards and

letters. It was pretty. I liked the

pictures and handwriting. That was

the raw material for my first piece. I

papier-mâchéd it into a series of

little boxes. My mom still has them. It

went from there.”

“They were supportive then?” He

paused to gape at a painting of a

woman’s upper body, her arms above

her head as she arched. A shiver

moved through him at the sight. And

then craven greed to posses it. “This

is…I want this.”

“You do?” She sounded surprised

and when he looked up he caught

sight of her face. Wariness lived in

her eyes. “Why?”

“It’s stunning. I have a large,

empty wall in my media room. This

would be beautiful in it.”

“I have plans for it.”

“Like what?” He had enough

money to outbid anyone who could

possibly be his competition.

She looked him up and down.

“Plans. I want to enter it into a

contest of sorts. When that’s over, if I

win and get the placement that is, I’d

be happy to discuss selling it to you.

If you still want it.”

He wanted it. Almost as much as

he wanted her. This woman he’d so

underestimated at every turn. He’d

seen a beautiful woman, a young

woman and he hadn’t paid much

attention to the rest of her.

But there was so much more to

Daisy Huerta than he’d imagined at

first. Anyone who could create

something like this was someone he

wanted to know.

“I want it. I’ll want it in a week or

a month.” He got what he wanted. But

he wouldn’t say so. He’d show her.