Chapter Fourteen

Cooper

When I asked Mallory to tell me about her childhood, I'd expected to hear about sunny days spent on wide Californian beaches… maybe a father who taught her to swim, or to surf, and a mom who'd watched from the shoreline, loving the bond between her husband and daughter. In my head, it was an idyllic childhood, not too dissimilar from my own, but with the addition of the Pacific Ocean on the doorstep.

My father didn't teach me to surf, but he gave me swimming lessons from an early age, and both of my parents were really supportive of my decision to go into medicine.

"You have to follow your dreams, son," my dad said when I announced my intention to become a dentist. He and mom must have known they wouldn't see very much of me over the coming years, while I went away to study, but they never stood in my way. They never even made comparisons with Brady, who'd been my best friend since we were tiny, and had stayed here in Hart's Creek, following in his father's footsteps by joining the sheriff's department.

They were the most unselfish people I've ever known, and even though they're no longer with us, I'll always appreciate their love and the support they gave me when I was growing up.

Which is why I can't imagine how it must have been for Mallory.

Because it seems there were no sunny days for her. There wasn't a father either… just a mom, who sounds like she was incapable of love.

What must it have been like to grow up in an environment like that… her mom flitting from one man to the next, some of them beating her, all of them leaving in the end? She glossed over her mom's death like it didn't matter, and although I find that hard to believe, I guess it didn't. Other than a change of address, her life didn't really alter. There was still no security in it for her… no sense of belonging. No love.

It's no wonder she moved in with Jonah the moment he asked.

Hearing her story makes sense of all kinds of things… like why she got that look of delight on her face when I told her the job I'd just offered her came with an apartment. There might have been a few thousand miles between us, and a fairly bad video link, but I saw the way her eyes lit up, and the excited smile on her face. I didn't get it then, but I do now. Just like I understand why she wanted to keep Saffron when she turned up out of the blue, like she did.

Mallory wants a place she can call her own. She wants a home and all the trappings that go with it, and that's completely understandable.

I just hope she realizes how serious I was when I said I'd changed… because I have.

And I never want to change back.

The waitress pops up beside us again, bringing our entrées. I have to let go of Mallory's hand, but I keep my eyes fixed on her, even when the waitress asks whether we need anything else, just shaking my head in reply to her question. There's something odd about the way Mallory's glaring at the waitress. I remember her saying she used to work in a restaurant, though, and wonder if the waitress is doing something wrong. Whatever it is, I can't say I've noticed, but Chester said she was new, so I guess it's possible.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, the moment she's gone.

Mallory looks at me, taking a breath. She tilts her head, like she's trying to decide what to say, or maybe whether to say anything at all, and then she leans forward. "If you must know, I'm sick of the way that waitress flutters her eyelashes at you, and says the word ‘sir' at the end of every sentence, like she'd happily let you tie her to your bedpost and spank her ass."

I laugh, unable to help myself, and even though she narrows her eyes at me, I have to say, I feel slightly relieved. Before tonight, I'd built up an image of Mallory as someone who'd speak her mind, who wouldn't be afraid to say what she wanted… and how she wanted it. It's been a thought that's fueled a lot of my more explosive orgasms during the last few days. Listening to her story, and the way she struggled to explain her relationship with Jonah, though, I'd started to wonder. Had I read her wrong?

It seems not, and I reach across the table, taking her hand again, holding both it and her gaze.

"How did you know I have bedposts?"

"I didn't… but I guess I do now," she says. "Although you're missing the point."

"The point being that you think the waitress has been flirting with me?"

"Yes. She has been ever since she took our order."

"I hadn't noticed," I say, although she surprises me by pulling her hand away.

"Stop looking so damn pleased with yourself."

"I'm not." I'm really not. "And I'm telling you the truth. I hadn't noticed her." She lowers her head, and I feel a slight prickle of fear bubble over my skin. "Hey… look at me." Mallory raises her head again. "Now give me back your hand." She hesitates, but then reaches across the table, letting me take her hand in mine. "And now tell me why you don't trust me all of a sudden, when you said you did."

"I do," she says quickly, turning her hand over in mine and entwining our fingers, that prickle of fear turning into a tingle of anticipation.

"Then why don't you believe me?"

"I want to, but… she's beautiful."

"No. You're beautiful."

"I'm n—"

"Forget the damn waitress, Mallory," I say, gripping her hand a little tighter, and wishing I could hold her in my arms instead. "I'm not interested in her. I'm not interested in anyone other than you. Okay?"

She stares at me, blinking hard, biting on her bottom lip and looking for all the world like she's gonna burst into tears. I'm reminded of how she looked at me when I went up to her apartment on Saturday afternoon, and I wonder if I've said the wrong thing… or said the right thing in the wrong way, maybe.

"Did I just screw up?" I ask.

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. "Screw up? Of course not."

"So I didn't say the wrong thing? This isn't one of those moments when I'm gonna have to ask you to cut me some slack because I'm out of my depth?"

"Not at all."

"Then why did you look so upset?"

"I wasn't upset. I was happy."

"Happy?"

"Yes. No-one's ever said anything like that to me before."

I don't understand why that would make her cry, but I like the idea of making her happy. "I'll bear that in mind for the future… although it's good to know you're jealous."

She narrows her eyes again, although she's smiling. "Oh… be quiet."

"Why? I'm jealous too."

"What have you got to be jealous of? There are no handsome waiters here making eyes at me."

"Which is just as well for the handsome waiters of this world. But if I'm being honest, I'm jealous because I suppose… I suppose I'd hoped that maybe, as you're so young, you might not have…" I let my voice fade, wishing I hadn't started this now. I know what I meant to say, but thinking it through, it sounds so presumptuous, and arrogant, and just like the version of me I'd rather not show to Mallory. The problem is, what can I do? What can I say?

"I might not have what?" she asks, and I realize there's no way out.

"Might not have had any… any serious relationships." Does that sound better than saying I hoped she might not have slept with anyone before? I'm not sure, and although I'm still a little worried by her reaction, her lips are twisting up into a smile, so it can't be all bad.

"You mean you thought I might still be a virgin?" she says, in a low whisper that only I can hear.

I love her candor… and the fact that she seems to have relaxed enough to be herself around me, and I have to smile at her.

"I guess."

"So you're assuming dinner will lead to something… more?" she says, with emphasis on that last word, and a sexy tease in her voice that makes my cock ache in a way it's never done before. That's mostly because I can't help remembering the way she screamed for ‘more' the other night, but I have to shake my head, smiling as she tilts hers, confused by my reaction, I think.

"I'm not assuming anything."

"You're not?"

"No. I'm hoping."

She lets out a gentle sigh. "In that case, I'm sorry to disappoint."

I'm not sure how to interpret that, and I need clarification. "About what? Not being a virgin? Or dinner not turning into something more?"

"The former," she whispers, my cock practically exploding at the thought of ‘something more' with her.

"Don't apologize. I just wish I'd met you first."

She licks her lips in one of the sexiest moves I've ever seen. "So do I."

"Because your ex cheated?"

"No. Because I wish you'd met me first."

That lightness in my chest is back, and for a second or two, I wonder about suggesting I get the check and we take this back to my place. I don't think Mallory would object and I know my cock wouldn't… but just as I open my mouth, the waitress appears beside us again.

"Is everything okay, sir?" she says, and I realize neither of us has touched our food. I also notice that slight stress she's placed on the word ‘sir'. I hadn't been aware of it before, but Mallory's right. It's definitely there.

I don't look up at her. I don't take my eyes from Mallory's for a second. Instead, I smile and say, "It is now," and grin when Mallory smiles.

"We should probably eat, or she'll only come back again," Mallory says as the waitress drifts away, and although I'd rather abandon the meal altogether, I nod my head and release her hand, so she can cut up her salmon. I've ordered the rack of lamb for myself and as I slice into it, I think about my aching cock, and something more… and jealousy.

That's not an emotion I'm used to, and although I would have loved to be Mallory's first, I know it doesn't matter.

At least, it doesn't matter anywhere near as much as being her last.

That's what she'll be to me. I'm absolutely certain of that.

"What are you thinking?" Mallory asks, breaking into my thoughts, and sipping at her wine, her meal half eaten already.

"I'm thinking about you."

She smiles. "Anything you wanna share?"

"Just how different everything feels when I'm with you."

"Good different?" she asks.

"Amazing different."

I've never experienced anything like this in my life. It's as though nothing exists other than the perfect woman sitting opposite me… her and my love for her. I'm not aware of anything else. Not the passing of time, not the people around us. Nothing at all… except her.

That in itself is strange by my standards, but what's even more strange is that I like it.

We continue eating, sipping at our wine. She offers me a taste of her salmon, and I struggle to breathe when I reciprocate, and watch her lips close around my fork as she takes a bite of my lamb. The conversation flows between us, our eyes never leaving each other the entire time. It's like we're in a trance… and perfectly happy to stay there.

Of course, it can't last, and when we're finished, the waitress comes over again, asking if we want to order dessert. I look at Mallory, raising my eyebrows.

"No, thanks. I couldn't eat anything else," she says.

I could… but not food, and I smile at her, then glance at the waitress, just for a second. She's pretty enough, I guess, but nowhere near as beautiful as Mallory, and I wonder why she was so worried. She had no reason to be… not with me.

"Just the check, please."

"Of course, sir."

That's grating on me now, and I reach across the table, taking Mallory's hand, and leaning in to hold her fingers to my lips, determined to show the waitress how together we are when she returns.

"Your check." I turn at the sound of a male voice and look up to see Chester smiling down at us.

"What happened to the waitress?" Mallory asks before I can.

"Lilliana hasn't mastered using the card machine yet. She can cope with hotel guests, but for non-residents, I'm still handling the payments until she's on top of it."

"I see," I say, releasing Mallory's hand, and pulling my wallet from my jacket pocket.

"How was your meal?" Chester asks as I hand over my credit card.

"It was lovely," Mallory says. "I really enjoyed the appetizer."

"You had the asparagus, didn't you?" he says, and she nods her head, seemingly impressed. "I'll let the chef know you liked it."

He hands me the card machine and I input my pin number, giving it back to him, before he gives me a receipt, holding Mallory's chair while she stands.

"Thank you," she says, and he nods his head.

"You're welcome." He steps away and I place my hand in the small of Mallory's back, guiding her past the other tables and out into the lobby.

Once we're on the sidewalk, I take her hand again.

"Are you warm enough?" I ask her.

"Yes, thanks," she says, leaning in to me.

That feels great, but to stop myself from doing anything about it, I take a moment to admire her dress. I was speechless and tongue-tied when she first opened her door to me this evening, and I saw the way the black fabric hugged her curves. Now, I'm even more impressed.

"Do you wear a lot of black when you're not working?" I ask, to distract myself from how much I want to peel her out of her dress.

She nods her head, surprising me a little, even though the dress she wore on Saturday was black, too. I'd only been making conversation, but now I'm intrigued.

"Is there a reason for that?"

"Yes. I read somewhere that it's supposed to make you look thinner."

I turn and gaze down into her upturned faced. "Who told you that you need to look thinner?"

"No, one. But I own a mirror."

"In that case, I think I need to get you a new one. There must be something wrong with the one you have." She tilts her head slightly and I lean in and whisper, "You look perfect… just as you are."

She gasps, her lips parting in the sexiest of ways, and I have to smile. There's a tension between us now, which is different from when I called for her earlier. Then, I felt nervous about whether she'd forgive me. Now, I'm on edge, because I want her so much, I can scarcely breathe… and I think she might feel the same way, too. She didn't dismiss the idea of dinner turning into something more, did she? In fact, she seemed to like it.

Unfortunately, our walk doesn't take very long and we're back outside the clinic in no time at all. I let us in, and follow her up the stairs, noticing she seems slightly unsteady on her feet now she's no longer leaning on me. We by-pass my door, and I rest my hand in the small of her back again, escorting her all the way to the top floor, where we stand outside her apartment.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," she says, looking up at me.

"It was my pleasure. I hope it made up for my earlier mistakes."

"I think they were innocent mistakes… and that maybe I overreacted."

I smile, moving a little closer. "No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

We could go on like this all night, and I can think of far more pleasurable things to do. "Either way… are we okay?" I ask, and she nods her head.

"Yes, we are."

I hear her suck in a breath as I move even closer still, so our bodies are almost touching. I can hear the slight stuttering of her breath and I cup her cheek with my hand, dipping my head and tipping hers back as our lips meet. At that moment, everything changes. I'd half expected things to start slowly, and build… but there's nothing slow about this. It's the most electrifying kiss of my life. Our tongues collide, her sexy moan echoing through my body and filling the space around us. That need for more is overwhelming and I push her back against the door, taking her hands and holding them above her head, moving my feet either side of hers and grinding my hips into her, in slow circular movements. She arches her back a little, her breasts crushed to my chest, and I switch both of her hands into one of mine, letting the other one roam down her back to her ass. She rolls her hips and I deepen the kiss, changing the angle of my head as I realize I'm feeling bare flesh through the thin fabric of her dress. Either she's not wearing any underwear at all, or… I move my hand up slightly, discovering the outline of a thong, and my imagination goes into overdrive. Sure, I like the idea of her naked ass. Why wouldn't I? But I can't help thinking how good she'd look, sprawled on my bed, face down, in nothing but a lacy thong.

"Fuck, yeah," I mutter into her mouth, and I grind my hips into her again, ensuring she can feel how much I want her.

"C—Cooper." The sound of my name on her lips does crazy things to me, and I tilt my head back the other way, sucking on her bottom lip, which makes her gasp, and then nibble on mine. She's so hot… so responsive.

I pull back, needing to see her, and she looks up at me, breathing hard, her eyes slightly glazed, and sparkling and filled with something that looks like longing, or need. Or could it be love? Oh please, let it be love.

I move my hand up from her ass to join the other one above her head, and then let them both trace down her arms, my fingertips grazing over her skin, until I reach her shoulders. She lets her arms drop to her sides and I cup her face between my hands, my eyes never leaving hers.

"Is this gonna cause another atmosphere at work tomorrow?" I ask.

"I hope so."

I chuckle and dip my head again, kissing her a second time. She raises her hands, placing them on my arms, pausing over my biceps and then continuing to my shoulders, clinging to me.

I might want her, but I know I have to stop… and I have to stop soon.

What I don't know is how in the world I'm supposed to do that.