Skillfully, he mastered her with a stroke of his tongue that had her lips parting. A small puff of air escaped from her as he adroitly maneuvered himself closer to her, his chest crushing her breasts as she was held in place by the seat belt.
Their tongues tangled together in a passionate kiss that she had never experienced before—and she had kissed a lot of men. Dalton’s kiss wasn’t tentative like most first kisses tended to be. No, this bad boy asserted his authority with a mastery that had her begging him to fuck her, and that was within the first fifteen seconds. After that, it was spiraling so out of control that the sudden blast of a car horn broke them apart.
“Wow,” she managed to say when she was able to find her voice.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” Remorsefully, he stared out the windshield at the mother that was giving them dirty looks as she took her toddler from the backseat of her car.
“Wow.”
“Stop saying that.” He gave her an anguished look.
“Wow.”
“You’re driving me nuts.”
Dalton’s head fell back to the headrest of his seat. She felt a radiant warmth travel through her body when she heard his low laugh.
“Is that bad?”
“This was what I didn’t want to happen.”
“Why? Because I’m not beautiful, rich, or come from a well-known family?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t care about any of that.”
“Then why—”
“I swore to Oceane that she would be the only woman I would love and that I’d never touch another woman.”
“Was she still alive when you promised her that?”
“It was a promise I made when she married me, and when she was dying.”
That Dalton had made that promise didn’t surprise her. Dalton was a stand-up kind of guy. What did boggle her mind was that Dalton, though he wasn’t young, he damn sure wasn’t over the hill either. He was a man with a man’s needs; even taking the sex factor out of the equation, even though it was a big fucking deal to her, he wouldn’t have the companionship from a woman’s caring touch that would make the many years he had left be filled with tenderness and love instead of loneliness and solitude.
“And she was okay with you saying that to her?”
“Yes.”
His simple “yes” sent her blood boiling.
“And she knew she was dying?”
“Toward the end, yes. We fought it, but the last two months were so bad we knew that we were fooling ourselves.”
“I really wish you hadn’t told me that shit.”
His head turned sideways on the headrest.
“Why?”
“Because I used to look at her pictures in magazines and think how beautiful she was, and wish I could be like her. It’s a bunch of horse hockey that she didn’t try to convince you that she didn’t want you to remain alone. That’s some next level bitchy and makes me not like her.”
“Stop, T.A.”
She folded her arms over her chest angrily. “I’ve said what I wanted to say. Are we going to Grace’s house or not? I’ve got to pee.”
“You don’t want me to drive you back to the airport?”
“Do you want me to stay or go?” she countered.
“Then let’s go. I couldn’t bring myself to use that tiny ass bathroom.”
Dalton put the car back in gear, driving back to the main road. If Oceane were still alive, she would pull out every one of her flaxen curls. At the thought, T.A. thanked God she had asked Sex Piston to touch up her hair color as a Christmas present.
They remained quiet for the rest of the drive, both lost in their own thoughts. She wanted to reach across the seat and take his hand but didn’t. Any overt sign that she was falling for him, and he would emotionally pull back even further from her.
The bright spot was the kiss they shared. Dalton might consider himself still married to Oceane even though she had passed on, but T.A. wasn’t about to let that deter her.
Fuck that bitch. She could have Dalton if she wanted to keep him to herself even after she died. T.A. could set her sights on the man she really wanted. Hollywood may not be as into being a celibate. She might feel a tiny bit of compunction about trying to sway Dalton from a pledge he had made to his dying wife, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her from luring Hollywood to her bed. If he kissed like a dream, he was going to fuck that way too, or so she hoped. It wouldn’t be the first time that a man she had wanted to fuck let her down in that department. That would be a fucking bummer, and Killyama would never let her hear the end of it.
She relaxed when Dalton pulled up to a two-story farmhouse. For some reason, she had been expecting a more intimidating one, one that would be so large she could get lost. Grace’s house looked like an old-fashioned farmhouse, with the wreath and poinsettias sitting on each side of the door picture perfect and making you want to come inside for a cup of eggnog.