Deep River Promise Read online

  “You okay?” He put his hands on her hips, letting his touch ground her, his thumbs gently stroking the soft exposed skin just above the waistband of her jeans. “You need to tell me if anything’s a problem.”

  “I will.” She lifted her hands and put them on his chest again. “Nothing’s a problem and I’m okay.”

  He studied her face, but there was only heat in her gaze now, whatever uncertainty there had been before dissipating. For the slightest of seconds he debated asking her about it, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment, and besides, it was clear she was with him.

  So he took an instant to look at her, because she was as beautiful as he’d thought she’d be, her skin pale as fresh cream, and then he smiled, letting her see how much he was enjoying the sight of her. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful, Astrid.”

  She flushed and he couldn’t resist another kiss. Her mouth opened beneath his like a flower to the sun, and again the taste of her filled him. God, delicious.

  He stroked her, letting his hands trail up and down her sides, loving how she shivered in response. And then, when she was breathing faster, harder, he reached behind her, undoing the catch of her bra, pulling the material away from her.

  She sighed and leaned against him, and he ran his hands up her back, tracing the curve of her spine, her body so warm and silky it made his already aching groin ache even more.

  There was nothing hesitant in her now, and as he kissed his way down her jaw, she shivered, gasping a little as he found a sensitive vein at the side of her neck and followed it with his mouth, licking and nipping.

  Her skin tasted delicious, as delicious as that kiss, and felt even better, and when he filled his hands with the soft weight of her breasts, she gasped again. Her nipples were hard and tight, pressing against his palms, and he circled them with his thumbs, making her groan.

  She was so responsive, arching into his hands, her arms tight around his neck. Her golden lashes were half-lowered, her mouth red and swollen from his kisses. A beautiful sight. He caught it in his memory and held it fast. Because he wouldn’t have it again, he knew that much.

  This moment was for her, but he could take something for himself. He hadn’t realized how good it felt to have someone need him the way she did.

  He kissed her throat, tasting the pulse that beat wild and frantic under her skin, then he bent her back over one arm, trailing kisses over her chest, down to the curve of one breast, teasing her hard nipple with his tongue. She gasped his name, arching her back, and when he took that nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, she moaned.

  Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding on tight, as if she didn’t want to let him go, and he could feel his own heartbeat racing, his breath catching, the pull of desire inside him becoming more intense, more demanding.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman as intensely as he wanted her. She was like a flame in his hands, scorching him, filling him with wonder and awe.

  Astrid James was a bonfire, and no one knew that but him.

  He turned his attention to her other breast, covering the tip of it with his mouth and sucking, nipping gently as he slipped one hand down to the fastenings of her jeans and pulled the buttons open.

  “Yes,” she gasped, arching into his mouth. “Oh, Damon, please…”

  He couldn’t deny her. He eased his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, and down farther, between her thighs, finding her hot and slick. She groaned as he touched her, lifting his head so he could watch her flushed face.

  He let her expression be his guide as he stroked her, teased her, listening to her catches in breath and her moans of delight, taking note of each little tremble and movement of her hips, watching ecstasy unfurl over her face.

  She was so lovely. He wished he had her in a bedroom, entirely naked, and all the time in the world to explore and discover, see exactly which things made her pant and which things made her moan. But a bedroom and time wasn’t what he had. All he had was her partially clothed, on a desk, in a library, and a moment. A moment to make her feel good, that’s it.

  It wasn’t enough.

  The thought streaked through his brain, bright as a falling star, then was gone. And he made sure it stayed gone. He couldn’t start thinking like that. This was a moment, that’s all, and once it was over, it was over.

  So he ignored it, stroking and teasing, easing a finger into her slick heat, feeling her shudder and groan in response. Then he ran his hand down her spine as he gave her pleasure with his hand, inciting and soothing at the same time, until she tensed and turned her hot face into his neck.

  And shattered in his arms.

  * * *

  Astrid leaned against Damon’s broad chest, the aftereffects of the most intense orgasm she’d ever had rippling through her. It was bliss and all she wanted to do was float in that bliss for a while. She hadn’t felt so relaxed or at peace for years, and it made her realize how tensely she’d been carrying herself. As if she’d been in pain for a long time and hadn’t known it.

  But there was no pain now—only Damon and the heat of his body. The hard strength of him beneath the warm, textured cotton of his shirt reassuring. He smelled good too, all musky and male, and she didn’t want to move. She wanted to keep sitting here like this, relaxed and sated, feeling light, as if a burden had been taken from her shoulders. The warm skin of his throat was mere inches from her mouth and she knew all she’d have to do to taste him would be turn her head.

  He’d told her she was beautiful and let her see the truth of it in his eyes. Then he’d touched her as if she were a precious work of art, carefully and with gentleness, like he didn’t want to break her. And he’d paid attention to her, watching her carefully as he’d stroked and teased her, making it very obvious that her pleasure was important to him.

  Aiden hadn’t done any of that. He’d taken his pleasure selfishly. After his initial seduction of her, he hadn’t much cared about whether she enjoyed herself or not. And the only comments he’d made during the act had been critical ones, making her feel small and ugly and somehow as if she was doing everything wrong.

  Warmth flowed through her entire body, and she turned her head, her mouth brushing the hot skin of Damon’s throat, wanting to give back to him all the pleasure that he’d given to her. Because she’d never be like Aiden. He’d been all take and no give, but she wasn’t.

  Damon’s fingers caught in her hair, tangling and holding her still. “Astrid,” he said, his voice rough and soft as velvet. “Honey…”

  “What?” She kissed him again, sliding her hands beneath the hem of his shirt to his flat stomach again, tracing hard muscle covered in smooth, velvety skin. “Isn’t it your turn?”

  His breath caught. Audibly. And it was intoxicating to know she had such an effect on a man, especially a man like him.

  He’s too good to be true. And you know what happens next…

  A ghost of an instinctive fear whispered through her, but she ignored it. Nothing would happen next. This was only sex and he’d be going tomorrow, and this was the moment she’d allowed herself. Just the one. Where she didn’t have to be the mayor or Connor’s mom. Where she could be herself without fear.

  And he’d given her that. It was glorious and so was he, and so she would take whatever she wanted for herself in this moment because this was all she’d have.

  Will it be enough?

  Of course it would. She’d gone five years without; she’d no doubt do it again.

  “That was for you,” he murmured. “And it’s not about me.”

  “Why not?” She glanced up at him, letting her fingers trail down over the front of his jeans and the hard ridge behind them. “Seems to me you want something for you.”

  The handsome lines of his face were taut, his blue eyes gone electric. He looked like a man who’d gone without food t
oo long and she was the feast set before him. “That wasn’t the point.”

  “Well, now I’m making it the point.” She grabbed the tab of his zipper. “I don’t want to just take. I want to give too, so you can take what you need from me.”

  He stared at her for a long second, emotions she didn’t understand rippling through his gaze. But the desire didn’t leave. It burned hot and very, very strong.

  Then all of a sudden he bent his head and his mouth was on hers in another of those astonishingly hot kisses, blanking her mind and stoking her desire. She’d thought she’d need more time to recover, but apparently not. Apparently she wanted him just as badly now as she had just before.

  He tugged her to the edge of the desk, then pulled at her jeans, and she lifted herself so he could strip them down and off, taking her panties with them. His hands stroked her, building her pleasure, making her shake.

  There was a brief, desperate moment where he paused to unzip himself and get out a condom, and she saw that his hands were shaking too. It thrilled her. And then she forgot about that as he gripped her hips, pulling her closer, so she was up against the hard, muscled heat of his body. That delicious scent of sandalwood and spice surrounded her, his hands firm; he was a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it and how to make it good for her. His certainty and confidence were unbelievably attractive.

  He was a man she could count on. Who gave his word and kept it.

  His hands were hot on her hips as he pulled her even closer, fitting her right up against him. The blue of his eyes had turned darker, like midnight, drawing her in; she couldn’t look away.

  He didn’t wait, pushing inside her in one long, slow movement that tore a gasp of pleasure from her. He felt so good there, as if that’s where he was supposed to be.

  “Astrid.” He said her name on a sigh, his voice impossibly deep, pausing as if he had to take a moment to get his breath back.

  She knew the feeling. He felt insanely good.

  Her arms tightened around his neck and she smiled. Heat flickered like a bonfire in his gaze, and he was looking at her with wonder and awe and a certain amount of amazement. It thrilled her. Had anyone ever looked at her that way?

  His grip on her tightened, and he drew his hips back, sliding out of her before thrusting back in, a steady, driving movement. Pleasure broke through in a warm, golden wave and she gave a soft, gasping laugh at the sheer joy of it. “Wow. You’re something else, Damon Fitzgerald.”

  His mouth curved in the most wholly beautiful smile she’d ever seen, but he didn’t say anything. And he didn’t kiss her either. He only looked down into her eyes, sharing the pleasure with her.

  The world fell away; there was only him. Inside her, around her, everywhere. Only the pleasure that lifted her up and up, higher and higher with each thrust of his lean hips. Only the heat in his eyes that surrounded her, his astonishing smile that enveloped her.

  This is special. This is something you want to have again.

  But she dismissed the thought. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the pleasure that filled her, that she gave to him and he gave to her, an unbreakable current shared between them, getting more and more intense.

  They didn’t say anything. Nothing needed to be said. They understood each other completely.

  Then he put one hand at the small of her back, steadying her as he thrust, deeper, harder, urging her closer as his other hand slipped between her thighs, stroking her.

  The pleasure fractured in a wild rush, glittering golden shards scattering light everywhere inside her, making her gasp his name as she gave herself up to it, watching his face as it came for him too. Electricity flared in his eyes, his movements becoming wilder and out of sync. Then he stiffened and said her name hoarsely, ecstasy rippling over his beautiful face.

  For a long moment afterward, neither of them moved. She found herself leaning against his hard body, her arms around his neck, her face pressed to the soft fabric of his T-shirt. Pleasure echoed through her and she wanted to enjoy it for as long as she could.

  Because this moment was going to end and it would end soon.

  Regret twisted inside her, bittersweet. But this was what she’d wanted and the only reason she could have it was because he was leaving. This pure, uncomplicated moment of pleasure was all she could allow herself, and now that she’d had it, she couldn’t regret it.

  His breathing was rough and ragged in her ear, his arms holding her steady. Then he lifted his head, and she knew from the expression on his face that the moment between them was ending. The regret tightened, but she ignored it.

  Instead she smiled. “Thank you,” she said, her voice husky.

  He smiled back, warmer than the sunlight outside. “You’re welcome.” He brushed a ghost of a kiss over her mouth. “Now, let me make you presentable again.”

  He dressed her with care, and she let him because she liked him touching her. His hands were gentle as they eased her off the desk, helping her back into her panties and jeans and pulling them up. Then he handed her her bra and she put it on, letting him pull down her silky T-shirt over the top.

  She smoothed her hair back behind her ears, while he got rid of the condom and put his own clothing back to rights.

  Then there was nothing left to smooth, nothing left to adjust.

  The moment was over.

  She turned around, ignoring the pinching sensation behind her breastbone, concentrating on the next task at hand, which was Phil’s books.

  Damon said nothing.

  She went over to the shelves, ignoring the deepening silence, pulling the books she needed off them before coming back to the desk. Then she issued them via the computer.

  “There,” she said, trying to ignore her heartbeat that was doing strange things inside her rib cage, speeding up and slowing down like a restless child who couldn’t sit still. “Phil’s books.”

  He’d put himself back together again, the only signs of the pleasure they’d shared the remains of a red stain on his high cheekbones and the crackle of electricity in his blue eyes. His hands were thrust into his pockets and his smile had faded. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It was as if that instant of closeness had never happened.

  Her heart twisted again, harder this time, and she turned away so he wouldn’t see it. This was silly. Where was this feeling coming from? He wasn’t her boyfriend and she wasn’t in love with him. He was a handsome guy she’d known all of two days, whom she had amazing chemistry with. They’d had sex on the desk and it had been wonderful, and now it was over. The end.

  She grabbed a pen and a sticky note, wrote down Phil’s address, then stuck the note to the book on top of the pile. “That’s Phil’s address. It’s half an hour’s walk up the hill.” She straightened, smoothed her hair again. “Well, I have some things to do so I better—”

  His fingers caught her chin in a gentle but firm grip, turning her face toward him. “Astrid.”

  But she didn’t want to know what he had to say. The ache in her chest was getting stronger and she had to get away from him, go and do something else, distract herself. Because the temptation to hold on to his shirt and beg him for more was rising and she couldn’t stop it.

  There are always consequences when you give in to what you want.

  Oh yes, and didn’t she know it? Her entire life was a monument to that little fact.

  She pulled herself out of his grip, fighting to ignore the warmth left lingering on her skin from his fingertips. “Sorry,” she said, though what she was apologizing for she had no idea. “I’ve got a busy day ahead of me. Better get on with it.”

  Her heart kicked in her chest as she turned toward the exit. But again, she ignored it.

  He didn’t speak again as she went to the door and unlocked it.

  And when she walked out, he didn’t stop her.

  Chapter
10

  Damon sat at one of the tables in the Moose, a stack of papers in front of him, a cold beer beside him, and his concentration shot all to hell.

  He was supposed to be working out which of the Deep River tourism proposals were the most financially sound, and yet all he could think about was Astrid.

  Her in his arms, her cheeks flushed, her eyes gone brilliant. She’d smiled at him as he’d pushed inside her, delight written all over her lovely face. And amazement too, the same amazement he’d felt unfurl inside himself. At the feeling between them, the pleasure and the intense sense of connection.

  There had been magic in the moment they’d shared and he could feel that magic still echoing through him. And it haunted him.

  He wasn’t sure why. Sex had always been easy come, easy go, and he’d been very deliberate about keeping it like that. Physical pleasure was the one intense feeling he allowed himself—as long as it didn’t stray into the realm of emotional. So far, that hadn’t been a problem. Then again, he’d always chosen partners who hadn’t wanted anything from him but sex.

  Astrid was different. Sure, she’d said she just wanted sex, but he’d seen the need in her eyes as he’d touched her. As he’d pushed inside her. Joy and wonder too. She’d looked at him as if she’d never seen anything like him in her entire life, and he’d felt himself respond.

  He’d liked that. He’d liked that far too much.

  You want it again.

  The idea sat inside him and he let it for a second, examining it, because he tried to be honest with himself where he could. And he could admit that yes, he wanted it again. Wanted to touch her, hold her again. Be inside her again. Have that smile of hers again…

  Damon grabbed the beer and took a sip, staring moodily at the wall next to him and the stuffed head of a brown bear that was stuck to it. The bear’s glass eyes were deeply judgmental.

  He glared at it.

  No, he couldn’t have any of those things again. That would be a mistake. Indulging himself in the first place had been a mistake. And perhaps she’d felt the same, because she’d walked out of the library very quickly afterward. He’d known something was wrong, but it was obvious she hadn’t wanted to talk about it and so he’d let her go. No point in making the situation worse.