Chapter 2
“There you go.”He tipped his can of Shiner to hers.
She lifted her can then took a long sip. “Cheers.”
Natalie had asked him to get their drinks from the bar next to the motel half an hour ago, and even after starting their second beer, tension still lurked around them. When he’d told her about having to share a room, she didn’t make a big fuss. All they would do was sleep anyway.
Yet the moment she walked into the room and looked at him, a crazy idea crossed her mind. She was a woman and he was a man and they were in a motel for the night—no past legal tie changed that. She hadn’t had sex in five years, one year longer than his son’s death. In her short one-year marriage, sex hadn’t been one of her top priorities with Clint. It was hard to get aroused when your husband showed up from work drunk every other day. A couple of times, she found lipstick marks in his boxers, and sadly she hadn’t cared much about them. Knowing he fooled around on her while shitfaced gave her a sense of relief… knowing she wouldn’t have to do anything with him.
After his death, she hadn’t really worried about her non-existent sex life; too busy rebuilding her life as a widow and trying to keep her finances afloat.
She watched the way Vincent’s long fingers held the Shiner and her stomach knotted in anticipation. What the hell?
He had sixteen years on her, and good or bad he was still her father-in-law. Dina’s ex. Oh, sweet Jesus. She gave herself a mental slap and ordered her nipples to stop tingling.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
Thankfully they had a good distance between them; she sat at the edge of her bed and he lounged on the chair a few feet from her, next to the television about as old as she. “Oh you know… cupcakes,” she said, mentioning the first safe subject coming to mind.
He glanced at his can, then peered at her and she had to swallow hard to shove the hot throb down her throat. His hazel eyes seemed darker and when she broke the stare, she looked at his hand once again. He made a circular pattern around the rim of the aluminum can.
He cleared his throat. “Do you like baking?”
“It’s okay. It’s soothing. I’ve wanted to take pottery classes but I don’t exactly live in an art town,” she said, and a wave of relief moved through her, her shoulders sagging a bit. She’d never shared her frustration over not leaving Suarez with anyone. I haven’t left because I’m too scared.
“Why did you stay after Clint passed?” he whispered, naming his son for the first time since he’d arrived. “Figured you’d start over somewhere new.”
From what she knew, Vincent had been born and raised in Suarez, but always looked for a way out. His then-girlfriend Dina had gotten pregnant and he’d done the right thing—married her at eighteen. After their divorce, he’d tried to stay for his son, and did so for twelve years—until Clint had rebelled and shut him out of his life.
“Guess I was used to living here. I saved money to go to Houston but I started to have problems with the house, and ended up here.” Excuses, excuses.
He surged to his feet, and jammed his hand in his front pocket. “Tell you what. I’ll sort out your house for you. It’s no promise, it’ll be reality. If you wanna sell it, we can set it up.”
“Thanks.” She took another sip then looked into the opening of the can like it held the answers to her doubts. “I guess I have to think about that dream again. Going away.”
“You’d be surprised how easy it is.” His jaw clenched. “Coming back is another story. I’ve made too many wrong decisions and it’s hard to forget them when you’re back.”
“Don’t think too much about the past,” she said. “You’ve made a life for yourself outside this itty bitty town. You’re more ahead than me.”
He sat next to her, and tapped her shoulder. Little thrills of excitement shot down her arm, prickling her flesh. “Count on me. If you need help with anything.”
Anything?She looked at him with a half-smile, and glanced at him mysteriously. He nodded, took a deep breath and she chewed on her lower lip. Tension crackled between them.
“Well, we should go to sleep. I’m fixin’ to walk to the truck to pick up my stuff,” he said, and leaned over her to reach for his keys. He’d left his luggage in the car earlier in case the motel didn’t have any vacancy.
He grabbed the keys and she raised her head.
He dipped down his until he was at eye level with her. “Natalie,” he called her, but didn’t finish.
She pulled him to her, hands grazing his shoulder, feeling him.
Any rational thought jumped out the window the moment she touched him. A carnal desire pinched her so hard it would probably leave a mark. They were two broken people in a sketchy motel room—two ravenous lovers who needed each other.
He lowered his lips to hers and when his tongue invaded her mouth, her body quivered in response. She cupped his face, and he intensified the kiss with the urgency of a man who’d already discovered and mastered all the secrets of her mouth.
Natalie embraced him with the intensity of hurricane. For so long nothing in her life had felt right. Her hasty marriage, her decision to stay in the marriage, her wish to leave town but inability to do so… they had all been decisions she’d been forced to make. Yet now… kissing him, his tongue exploring her like a hunter did a mountain, had never been better. She was in charge, she’d initiated the kiss and pure empowerment moved through her.
And arousal. She began to remove his shirt, fussing over his buttons. When she slid her hand down his jeans, a massive cock greeted her, hard as a longhorn. He groaned against her lips, and she slid her hand farther and stroked him, hoping he wouldn’t suddenly change his mind.