Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

Fear? Just how bad had things been with Chief Carrington?

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving.” Daniel’s intense, amber gaze finally locked on Dorothea. “But first I’d like to speak with you.”

The air in her lungs turned to steam and evaporated; she began to wheeze, the urge to both fight and flee screwing with her head. “No, thank you? I mean, no. I’m having a girls’ night.” Translation: leave! Please.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “One way or another, I’m picking up where our last conversation ended. You sure you want to have an audience for that?”

He wouldn’t dare!

Who was she kidding? He would probably dare in a heartbeat.

“You guys had a conversation?” Ryanne lowered her spoon and arched a brow at Dorothea. “I’d love to hear the main topic...or were you guys too busy grunting to use actual words?”

Lyndie’s eyes widened like saucers. “Is he the raging diarrhea you were having?”

Kill me. Kill me now. Could this night get any worse?

She’d known a meeting had to happen sooner or later. Postponing it had been a mistake. If she allowed Daniel to say his piece now, she could say goodbye. Forever.

“Fine. If you’ll follow me...” Chin high, the rest of her trembling, she strode past him.

Heat pulsed from him as he followed her. Goose bumps broke out over her skin.

Once she reached the front door, hopefully out of the others’ hearing range, she faced him. Crap! He was so close she could have tripped over his shadow.

Bones threatening to melt, she moved two steps back. “How did you find me?”

“How did you know I was looking for you?” he countered. “Did you, perhaps, see me at your door and run?”

“I... Well...” She licked her lips. His hooded gaze followed the motion of her tongue, and the heat he was throwing off cranked up about a thousand degrees. In the next instant, he was looking at her as no man ever had. Not even her ex-husband. As if she were a mystery he had to solve. A dessert he wanted to eat. A treasure he expected to claim.

Her hands fisted. Someone needed to tell him a look like that made promises he couldn’t keep. And dang it, she hated that look almost as much as she loved it. It meant nothing to him but everything to her.

“Dorothea,” he prompted, “did you run away from me?”

Lying would lead to complications. How could she be expected to keep falsehoods straight when she could barely remember her name in this man’s presence? Still, there was no way she would admit to her cowardice.

“What I did or didn’t do doesn’t matter.” As she spoke, she waved her hands through the air to punctuate each word. A bad habit she’d fought most of her life, whenever her emotions got the better of her. “Tell me why you’re here.”

He closed what little distance separated them, and she backed up another step, then another, determined to remain at arm’s length. It wasn’t long before she smacked into a wall, and crap, he just kept coming until they were only a whisper apart.

A dark, dangerous whisper...

Her tremors redoubled as she breathed him in. He smelled like her favorite mix of essential oils: sandalwood, lavender and vanilla. And there was a good reason for that. She made soap as a special gift for the inn’s guests. A mistake, she realized now. She wanted to breathe him in forever.

“I’m here for you.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth. Out came his tongue, licking away a smear of chocolate. “I want to take you back to the inn and give you that orgasm you asked for—plus a couple more.”

What! He’s here to pleasure me?

“I didn’t... I mean...” Wet heat branded her core. “You’re too late? Stop tasting me?” Questions? Really?

“Mmm. You sure you want me to stop?” His voice deepened to a sensual purr. “Let me assuage my curiosity and find out if you’re this sweet all over. Let me see the exquisite body that haunts my dreams.”

The—exquisite—body in question experienced a thousand different reactions at once, namely tingling skin, hardening nipples and a quivering belly. Ohhhh! Her blood began to sizzle in her veins.

Daniel Porter had not just implied he wanted to go down on her...right? She was mistaken?

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” she said.

“Tell me you still want one night with me.” He kissed her knuckles, leaving a white-hot ember behind. “This time my answer will be yes.”





CHAPTER FOUR

HAVING BRAVED ENEMY territory in the bright light of day and in the dark of night, Daniel had learned to recognize the signs of impending danger.

Dorothea was stiff as a board, her hands balled into fists. Tension crackled from her.

Incoming!

She beat at his chest. “You...you...prick! Three days ago, I wasn’t worth a pity screw, and now that you’re desperate for sex, you decide to turn on the charm, expecting me to thank you for the scraps you toss my way?”

He took a moment to admire the pale blue paint on her nails. Adorable.

He had a feeling he would like her nails even if they were puke green or bowel-movement brown.

Ever since she’d flashed him, he’d been turned on, unable to turn off.

Earlier today he’d walked past the inn. Through the window he’d seen her leaning over the reception desk, her pants pulled tight over her ass, and his decision to avoid her had crashed and burned. He would have paid any price to stand behind her, rub against her and hear her purr with satisfaction.

Throughout the rest of the day, his desire for her had only grown.

Time had had the opposite effect on her.

“I’m sorry, Dorothea. I never thought of you as a pity screw, as you put it. You misunderstood, and the blame is mine. First, when I said you aren’t my usual type, I meant you are a Strawberry Valley girl. I’ve avoided locals ever since my dad learned about my friendship with Jessie Kay and started planning our wedding. I won’t disappoint him again. Second, I’m not desperate for sex right now. I’m desperate for you. Since you came to my room, I’ve done nothing but fantasize about your beautiful curves.”

Her shamrock eyes went wide and her breathing quickened, but she said nothing.

The past three days had been at times heaven and at others hell. He hadn’t slept, but he hadn’t tossed and turned as he usually did, either. Again and again, his mind had returned to Dorothea Mathis. To her incomparable body and the freckles he wanted to lick. To the eroticism of her movements. To her ability to make him laugh.

Yes, miracle of miracles, she’d made him laugh. But he hadn’t returned the favor. No, he’d done the opposite.

He needed to return the favor.

“To be blunt,” he said, “sex is easily had. I can drive into the city and set up an assembly line of potentials in less than an hour.”