Page 87 of Wine & Dine

A Tin Man is solid, even if he has a rusty heart.

Dolores doesn’t answer her brother. She nods, and I hope this is her acceptance of his apology. Words aren’t enough. She needs time.

“Maybe we need some time to process all of this. A few days. I’ll have my lawyers draw up a contract and have Charlie look things over. Then we can discuss everything.”

Dolores stands without a word and exits the breakfast room to the dining room.

“Stunner,” I call after her, but Mati steps in my way.

“Let’s let her be. Let her work this out for a second without being all in her face.” Mati looks around the room, making a note of staring down Denton as well.

I nod, not knowing what to do next. Denton looks back at Mati and then stalks toward the kitchen. Mati shakes her head and takes a seat at the table. “Well, I certainly know how to clear a room, don’t I?”

Magnolia chuckles, and I stare at these two, knowing I’ll never understand the mysteries of women and their ways.

+ + +

Eventually, I make my way up to Dolores’s bedroom. Her room has a constant chill seeping in from the room next door with a boarded window. This house needs new windows, and I plan to discuss all the particulars of the rehab with Denton first thing tomorrow.

Snuggling in, Dolores curls to her side, her back facing me. I stroke up her thigh, bare under the covers and massage up her tight back. Periodically, I lean forward and press a kiss to her shoulder. I shudder to think of what could have happened to her with Rusty. Thank goodness for small miracles like James Harrington. Dolores has told me all about their relationship in their teens and early twenties.

“Are you sure being here will be enough for you?” she mutters in a sleepy voice.

My hand coasts over her leg. “Being with you anywhere will be perfect.”

She rolls to look at me over her shoulder. “I mean it. This is a small town, Garrett. Stuff like tonight is going to happen often.” She means the impromptu party with Mati’s children. Her grandchild. Her son’s fiancée. Denton and Magnolia. It was a houseful and strangely made me very happy. I’ve been alone for a long time.

“I mean it too. I’m perfect as long as we are together.”

Dolores eyes me from her odd angle. “You seem so afraid I’ll leave you. Why?”

I duck to kiss her shoulder and speak into her skin. “My father left us as kids. It’s silly, really. I’m an independent business owner, taking and giving as I please, yet I’m afraid to be left by the woman I love.”

She rolls to face me. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere. But what if you decide this isn’t enough, and you want to go…I’m the one afraid you’ll leave me.”

“Not a chance, Dorothy,” I say, rubbing my nose against hers. “The Tin Man sticks once his heart begins to beat again.” I kiss her nose and then roll her to her side with her back at my chest. She purrs as she nestles into me, her backside searching for my dick.

“You need to sleep, sweetheart.”

She shakes her head in response, not speaking but continuing to wiggle against me.

“Dolores,” I moan, knowing she needs rest, but suddenly rising to the occasion. Her back arches, her ass making contact. I slip my hands under the T-shirt she wears, using my wrists to lift the material as my palms caress up her spine.

“Feels so good,” she mutters. She props up on one arm, allowing me to remove her shirt, and then collapses back to her side. My hands outline her body. The length of her arm. The curve of her hip. The dip of her waist. I lower behind her, pressing kisses along the curve of her spine. As I disappear under the tent of covers, I remove her underwear, dragging it over her knees to her ankles, where she kicks it off. My hands squeeze the firm globes of her backside, pressing them together and then spreading them wide. Her legs straighten, but I press at the back of her thighs, forcing them to bend and draw upward. With her backside in my face, I lower and lick across the seam of her.

“Garrett,” she moans in warning as my thumb teases her puckered opening while my tongue lashes her sensitive folds. With a thumb testing at one entrance, my tongue slicks the other. She hisses again, remaining twisted on her side, with her knees clenched together, while I devour her in this position. Tongue lapping. Thumb flirting. My mouth salivates, and she whimpers as she nears release. Her legs stretch forward, kicking out from under the covers, to allow me to continue while she remains jackknifed on her side. My tongue delves forward, slicing into her, and she implodes, calling out my name on a strangled whisper. I lick her one final time. Then I suck on the firm skin of one cheek. I nip the other before I climb behind her.

“I’m feeling lazy, sweetheart,” I mutter, keeping to my side, but holding myself positioned at her slick entrance. She opens her legs, but a hand on her thigh hints I want her to keep them closed. She’ll be tight like this, and my dick pulses with anticipation. I clutch myself, dragging the tip along her soaked folds. She wiggles again, curling into herself to give me full access. “Hold on,” I warn, and then I ram forward, the motion nearly blinding me as her tightness squeezes me in a way she hasn’t before. I still, pulling my knees up behind hers. “Damn, you feel so good.”

I pull back, maneuvering her hips to draw me in and then slide back to the edge. My eyes roll back again. It’s slow and torturous and so fucking tight like this. We continue this languid, luscious dance for several minutes, both quiet as I fill her and tease her for a second release. The pressure builds at the base of my spine. My sac tightens, but suddenly, I need to see her face.

I pull out, and she cries, rolling to look at me over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” she mutters, her eyes sleepy in the darkness of the room. I press upward and slip over her thigh, rolling her onto her back. I re-enter her before she’s settled, and she huffs with the welcome intrusion. Balancing on my elbows, I peer into her eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I say before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Ask me again if I’ll be happy here,” I say, my voice rough with need, yet I hold back, keeping my eyes on her.

“Will this place be enough for you?” she whispers, her tone hushed and breathy. I slowly press forward.

“This. Right. Here,” I say, pressing a hand to her thigh and then palming up her body, over the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist and resting on the side of her breast. “This is all I’ll ever need.”

I pull back, drawing out the building tension, and then slowly inch forward, filling her. My head lowers to watch myself disappear inside her.

“This is all I need.” Repeating the measured movements, I realize I’m making love to her, giving her all of me, and taking all of her. “I love you, stunner.”

“Love you too, Tin Man,” she says on a sigh, her body following mine in a slow, steady rhythm. Her knee skates up my thigh, resting high at my hip. I wrap a hand over her ankle and press it upward once, twice. She lifts her arms above her head, gripping the wrought iron slats of the headboard. Her head tilts to the side, and I recognize her movement as something we learned in our tango lessons. I release her ankle, but she keeps it tight to my hip, and I relish the position she maintains as I lazily slip in and out of her. The heel of her opposite foot curls over my calf and drags up my inner leg. We continue this dance only as long as we can until she mutters, “Faster.”

Our pattern continues—a drag and a draw—but the tempo picks up until we move as one. It isn’t chaotic and quick like the previous times we’ve engaged in sex. It’s practiced, planned, and predictable, but only because I know her body so well, and she follows my lead, allowing me to give her all the pleasure I can. She slips into a stillness. Her legs stiffening around mine as her head rolls back, and the familiar clench around me sets me off. I come in the depths of her, pressing as far as I can into her and holding her pinned to me by arms wrapped around her lower back. She sighs instead of screams, moaning words of love you and stay forever and just like this.

I collapse on top of her, breathing in her damp skin. Her arms release the bed and curl over my back, tickling her fingers up my spine.

“You are incredible,” she mutters, and I chuckle.

“I’m so glad we finally agree.”