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

The last words were basically growled at her. Had Daniel Porter really, truly offered her what she’d dreamed of having since the seventh grade? His unadulterated affection—long-term.

A sense of wonder wrapped her in a sweet embrace, and she began to smile. The sun was rising inside her.

“We’ll still have to keep it a secret, of course,” he added.

An-n-nd the sun set. “A secret,” she echoed.

“I don’t want my dad planning our wedding, expecting grandkids and getting hurt when things end.”

When, he’d said. Again. “You expect us to fail.” And she—Dorothea Mathis—was to be his dirty little secret. Not good enough to tell the world she’s mine!

Sickness replaced the sense of wonder. Well, screw him. The man she chose would want to show her off to the world, no matter what the future had in store.

“I’m being realistic,” he said. “I’m not in a place where I can make a woman happy for years or even months.”

“You can if you love her. Love lasts forever.” Great. She’d just dropped the L word. No matter. He could deal. She didn’t love him anymore, but the potential was there.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, so gently it broke the pieces of her heart that were already broken. He was like a parent telling his child that Santa wasn’t real. “You, more than anyone, should know those words are simply a romanticized idea. Men and women might burn for each other, but in the end someone always gets hurt.”

Was that what had happened with Jazz? Had they burned for each other until the flame died?

Maybe, maybe not. On her end, she wasn’t sure she’d ever really burned for him. He’d smiled at her, and she’d felt almost drunk with her first taste of feminine power. He’d paid attention to her, spoken kind words and had genuinely seemed to enjoy her company, and she’d been grateful, not overcome by lust or love.

“If we’re not going to last, why do you even want to date me at all?” she asked.

“I mentioned the part about men and women burning for each other, right?”

“You did,” she grated. “But I don’t want to be a dirty little secret, Daniel, as if you’re ashamed of me. I’ve been ashamed of myself for too long, and that ends today. I might be the owner of a crumbling inn,” she continued, “might not possess the ideal beauty, but I’m worth something.”

Fierce and gorgeous and battle ready, he jumped to his feet. He was a thousand dreams come true...a million fantasies in the making. An illusion. He was nothing but a heartbreak waiting to happen. “I’m not ashamed of you, Thea. Of course you’re worth something. You’re worth everything.”

Pretty words. Always he offered pretty words. A gift—or his personal favorite, a reward.

“Everything?” She laughed without humor. “Your actions say otherwise. And what about your love of challenges, huh? I’d date you, you’d win my affections but still keep me a secret while the flames burned out. Then you’d dump me. Hurt me.”

“I would never hurt you. Not purposely. I only want to protect—”

“Your dad. I know. He comes first. But I’m tired, so tired, of coming in second place. My dad abandoned his wife, my sister and me, choosing to raise another woman’s children instead. Did you know that? My husband put his career and his girlfriend in front of me. I won’t be another man’s disposable anything. I deserve better.” Head high, she righted her clothing and walked out of the room.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

DOROTHEA REFUSED TO think about Daniel for the rest of the day. Or ever. Refused to think about his earth-shattering kiss, and her life-changing orgasm. Life. Changing. In fact, she decided to treat the day like any other. She painted her nails dual colors—blue = sad, purple = determined—and jogged ten miles and showered. She also cleaned an entire hallway of rooms as she waited for Harlow Glass to arrive.

Okay, that was new. Eagerly watching for the former bully she’d once despised. But come on! I’m getting a theme room!

Maybe she should have painted her nails happy pink.

Finally the brunette arrived. Nearly bubbling over with anticipation, she showed Harlow to the room. But...never again would Dorothea think of it as the Four Seasons. Try: Orgasm City. Or Five Minutes in Paradise.

But she wasn’t thinking about Daniel.

Right. Dorothea told Harlow everything she’d like to see on the walls.

“All doable.” Harlow rubbed her beautifully rounded belly as she listened. “I’m going to use non-toxic paint, but don’t worry, it won’t affect the colors.”

Envy scalded her.

Envy? No! Unacceptable. Her child was taken from her, yes, but she wouldn’t begrudge another woman’s joy.

“Thank you. For everything,” Dorothea said.

“Gotta admit, I was over the moon when Daniel told me about the theme room.” Harlow toyed with a lock of hair. The gorgeous teen had grown into a stunning woman with a kind heart. Falling on hard times—and then finding love—had changed her. “I totally adore the weather premise...but what do you think of doing a romance novel theme next? Imagine it! You could do anything from the Viking era to futuristic. Oh! Did you know there are several romance series based on West’s video games? You could do a Lords of the Underworld room. Or Alice in Zombieland. I’ll paint it free of charge as well, if you’ll let me help with the design.”

West, or Lincoln West, was Jessie Kay’s husband. If he kicked in on a room, too, she’d be set! And oh, wow, Daniel’s barter system was one of the best things to ever happen to her.

“Jessie Kay gets to pick the second room, but she hasn’t told me what she wants,” Dorothea said. Before their orgasm-fest, Daniel had marched into the room she was cleaning and made the announcement. “Who knows? She could select one of West’s games. Since you’re helping me with the murals, you get to pick and design the third room. You can totally go with a romance novel theme and paint anything you want.”

Harlow jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Yes! Agreed.”

Daniel stalked into the room with a piece of paper in hand, Princess fast on his heels. He’d changed his clothes, and his hair was damp. He must have taken a shower in one of the unused rooms.

An image of his naked body dripping with soapy bubbles invaded her mind. A spectacular image, and yet she experienced a wave of disappointment. He no longer bore the scent of her on his flesh.

She wanted her scent on his flesh.

Shouldn’t think so possessively. It’s wrong on every level.

He met and held Dorothea’s gaze, his pupils expanding. Her body softened, preparing for another mind-blowing orgasm while her internal thermostat cranked up the heat. She was pretty sure she could warm the entire building.

The bastard noticed her reaction and smiled slowly. “What do blue and purple mean?”

Why not tell him? “Sad and determined.”

His smile slipped, as if he actually cared about her mood.