Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

H e brewed her a cup of tea. Then he offered to make her a sandwich, but she wasn't hungry. She wasn't interested in the TV.

It was killing him, watching Vivian like this.

"Hey," Dallas said, sitting on the edge of the sofa. They'd been at his place for nearly an hour, and she hadn't said a word. He was fine giving her space, but this silent thing was starting to worry him.

Vivian looked up at him and tried to smile before whispering, "Hey, yourself."

"What's going on inside that head of yours?"

For a couple of seconds, she said nothing, then shrugged and shook her head. "I didn't forgive him. I couldn't. Not yet." A long, shuddering breath escaped. "Does that make me a bad person? Does that mean I'll never be able to move on?"

"There's no playbook, Viv. There's only you and him and your situation. You'll figure it out."

"I don't know if I'm strong enough." She barely whispered her words, and he had to bend lower to hear them. "Don't know if I have enough of the good stuff inside me. Enough to make all that darkness fade away."

"Babe," he said, moving onto the sofa so that their bodies touched. "You're the strongest woman I know."

She made a scoffing sound. "I'm a lot of things, but strong isn't at the top of that list."

"No?" He kept his tone gentle, but inside, he raged against a world that would make a woman like Vivian Bridgestone doubt herself. He slid his fingers under her chin so she could look nowhere but at him.

"You're a whole lot of things, Duchess. You're opinionated and articulate. You're smart, shrewd. And even though you prefer folks to think you're distant and cold, you're not. You have more love in your pinky than a lot of folks manage to muster in a lifetime. You don't show it, but that's okay. You stand up for yourself, you don't give in, and you're passionate. I'd want you in my corner when the shit hits."

"You make me sound like Wonder Woman," she said slowly, and he saw the doubt there. "But I'd bet every penny in my bank account most folks think I'm a cold-hearted bitch."

He smiled at that. "You can come across as aloof. But not everyone is an open book, and I like the mystery, the challenge of peeling back all those layers. You're like a hard rain coming, Viv. Fast and furious, with the strength of a storm at your back. You make things hard, and you push back, but babe, those are the things I love about you. You challenge me like no other woman I've known."

"I don't know if I can love the way a normal person does."

"What the fuck is normal?" he growled, moving so close, their mouths were almost touching. "There is no normal. There's you and me. There's our past. There's our present, and I'm hoping like hell, there's our future. But you have to decide if you're all in, because I've been all in since I walked into that bar in Wyoming." He swept a kiss across her lips. "I just didn't know it."

Silence stretched between them. Long and thin and so damn loud, he wanted to hit something. Her eyes changed. They softened. Her pupils expanded, and her breathing increased.

"You kept the unicorn," she said softly. "After I threw it in your face that last night at the Sundowner."

Dallas reached for her. "I kept the damn unicorn."

She opened beneath him, her mouth pliant and soft, and he kissed her until their heads swam. Until his heart felt like it would explode from his chest. Until she whimpered beneath him and clawed at his jeans.

"I need you," she whispered hoarsely. "Inside me."

His dick was hard, his body primed to go, but he worked like hell to put a leash on things because he had plans for this woman, and they involved more than one orgasm before he'd allow himself inside her.

He pushed her back and smiled. "We're going to take this slow, Duchess."

"I love it when you call me that," she sighed, wiggling her hips.

He grabbed her jeans and pulled them down, then looked up at her with a grin. "Do you remember the first time I called you that?"

She nodded, biting her bottom lip when he pressed his mouth against her inner thigh. "You were mad because I said I wouldn't take you to my cousin's wedding unless you wore a suit and tie."

He licked the spot he'd just kissed, eyes on the prize covered by the tiniest piece of red silk imaginable. "I had slacks. Had a button-up too."

"Wasn't good enough."

He pressed his fingers against her, rubbing slowly as she began to gyrate her hips.

"For a duchess," he replied, leaning forward. She was wet, the stain apparent through the fabric.

"I went with Mark Branson instead." Her words ended on a squeal because he ripped her panties in two.

"And where's he now?" Dallas kissed her there . His favorite spot.

"Who cares?" she said on a groan. "Mark who?" she gasped when he kissed her again.

"Exactly, Duchess." Dallas covered her wholly with his mouth. Used his tongue and fingers until she began to quiver. He worked her over until she was panting.

"God, Dal. I'm so close."

He grinned, loving the way she looked, half-dressed, hair everywhere, his mouth on her most private body part. He moved his fingers faster, curved them up to hit the spot that drove her crazy, and then he suckled, pulled, and teased with his tongue. When she came, he lapped up everything she had, then continued his assault until she shattered once more. Maybe twice. He stood back, chest heaving, so that he could watch her as she came down.

"It's always so good with you." A soft smile curved her lips. "Always," she whispered hoarsely.

"Take off the rest of your clothes."

Slowly, she raised her head, her skin flush and rosy, and grinned. "Now you're being bossy."

"I am the foreman. It's what I do."

She sat up and pulled off her top and bra, while he doffed his shirt and jeans. He dropped a hard, searching kiss, then scooped her into his arms and strode over to the rug in front of the fireplace. Vivian immediately rolled over and presented him with the sweetest view of an ass meant only for him.

"On your knees," he commanded, cock ramrod straight, balls aching so damn, much he wasn't sure he could see this through. "Shit, I need to grab a condom."

"No."

He looked down at her questioningly.

"Maybe we'll make a baby."

A heartbeat passed.

"If you want to, that is."

"Maybe we will." His answer was husky. They were over the edge now, heading to uncharted waters.

Her eyes glistening, her mouth bruised from his kisses—that was a picture he'd take to the grave. Dallas gave her butt a soft slap before reaching around to make sure she was ready.

"You're so damn wet."

"Only for you." She arched her back, and he slowly slid inside, taking his time, letting her get used to the length and feel of him.

Then he began to move, holding her hips steady with his hands. When she whimpered, he hunched forward so he could reach around and stroke her clitoris while he urged her on from behind. They moved together, two people caught in a dance older than time—wordless, but then again, no words were needed. This was natural. This was belonging.

When he came, he held her tight, biting into her shoulder as his orgasm ripped through him. Then he held her until she was finally stilled.

"That was different," she whispered, leaning back against him.

"It was more than different," he replied wickedly. "It was almost perfect." He caught his breath.

"Almost?" she teased.

"I feel I can do better."

"I'm exhausted."

He reached for her once more. "Rest up, Duchess. I'm just getting started."

"But I've already…" She was out of breath. "Had two orgasms."

"Three."

"What?" she licked her bottom lip, enjoying this.

"When I first tasted you. Then when I put my fingers inside you, and then when I?—"

"I stand corrected."

He began to play with her again, his breath hot, his mouth wet. "Lie back and let me make you come."

Which he did. Two more times.

Later, when he had the strength, Dallas gathered Vivian in his arms and took her upstairs. He climbed into bed and pulled her close.

"I like this," he whispered in her ear.

"Like what?"

"You in my bed."

She turned to face him, her eyes wide and shiny…and suddenly serious.

"What's wrong?"

She picked at his leather bracelet.

"Talk to me, Viv."

"We're doing this, right?"

He saw the fear. The insecurity. He swept his mouth across hers and climbed out of bed. "Hold on," he said over his shoulder as he walked out to the loft area where his office was. He headed for the desk and opened up one of the drawers, carefully withdrawing a box. Dallas grabbed what he needed from it and strode back to the bedroom.

He slid into bed, pulled Vivian as close as he could, and offered a gift.

"I kept the unicorn, remember?"

She took it from him and turned it over in her palm. "You did," she said with a nod.

"Unicorns are magic."

"Are they?" She lifted her sweet face.

"They're rare, and they mate for life." He sounded corny, had no idea if what he'd just said was true, but Dallas didn't give a rat's ass.

He grabbed her hands and kissed them. "You're my unicorn." His voice was gruff. "If you want to be."

Vivian's face opened into the kind of a smile most men would pay a fortune to receive.

"I love you, Dallas Jenkins Henhawk. And yes, I'll be your unicorn." She kissed him. "For life."

It was the sweetest thing she'd ever said, and he took those words with him as he held her close and, eventually, fell asleep.