Near To You (6 page)

Chapter Seven

The contractor
swore
he wouldn’t miss the appointment again, but Niara seriously doubted it.

For three days, he’d put it off. And for three days, she’d gritted her teeth and not argued because there wasn’t anyone else in town to hire. Instead, she holed up in her house, obsessively cleaning and unpacking and keeping busy so her mind didn’t wander. She had her internet and cable at last, but the T.V. just provided idle background noise to fill the otherwise silent house.

Deena had offered to come for a week-long visit; Nia had declined, but it was only a matter of time before her friend showed up at her doorstep intent on bringing her out of her funk. And to probably terrorize the locals.

Nia left the bathroom after brushing her teeth but forewent dressing. If the contractor
did
show up, he could accept her as-is. She padded down the stairs and through the house in her pajamas and robe, yawning as she went. She hadn’t slept well in days, guilt twisting her gut all night as she tossed and turned. Maybe it was silly. She didn’t
know
-know him. But everything in her screamed that there was something there, something between them that would’ve been worth pursuing. Just being near him, a whole new world of possibility had opened up, like a light turned on in a room she hadn’t realized was dark.

She rubbed sleep from her eyes and went straight for the coffee machine where her beverage of choice was brewed and waiting. Her feet dragged on the hardwood and she yawned again as she reached for a mug over the sink.

And then stopped.

There was a distinct sound like a mix between a pop and a click, steady and consistent with a few seconds between each one. Quieter than a hammer...what the hell? She left the mug on the counter and walked to the window, pulling the yellow sheer curtains back to look out.

Her gut bottomed out as she stared for a moment, then left the curtain swinging in her wake as she raced for the exit.

The porch door slammed behind her and Brady stood straight suddenly. He’d been leaning over a long, rectangular structure low to the ground with landscaping fabric around the frame, and had a staple gun in one hand.

She stopped about six feet away and stared. “What are you doing?”

“Box spring vegetable garden.” He wasn’t smiling and the worried feeling in her stomach didn’t abate.

“I don’t mean what are you doing right this second—I mean what are you doing in my backyard when you’re supposed to be gone?” She had the distinct impression she was, once again, utterly failing at talking out loud, but nothing had prepared her for seeing him out there at nine o’clock in the morning.

“I never left. I’ve been at Tracie’s.” He set the staple gun on the frame, plucked off his gardening gloves, and crossed his arms at his chest. His gaze was averted the whole time and he frowned. “Just tell me the truth. Did you ask me to stay because you knew I was leaving?”

Make this count
. She took a deep breath. “Yes. I wouldn’t have had the guts to otherwise. Because, as you might have noticed, I’m not good at this. I wanted you all morning, all afternoon, all night, the morning after, and I want you
right
goddamn now too. I want you over for dinner, and in my bed, and sitting on the porch swing with me, and out for coffee, and whatever else you want. That’s the truth.”

Nia quivered, waiting, itching to go to him but afraid he’d brush her off.

At last he met her gaze, a half smile touching his lips. “I’ve always just wanted you.”

She lost the fight and went for him; he met her halfway, pulling her into his arms for a searing kiss. His tongue caressed hers, mouth devouring. Heat swelled in her pussy, craving him immediately as her hands roamed his body, sliding under his T-shirt.

Her lips left his as she gazed up at him. “I, um, wasn’t lying about the wanting-now part.”

He grinned fully this time. The smile lit his eyes and eased any remaining worry she had, and he stripped off his T-shirt. “Happy to oblige.”

She’d missed the feel of his skin but couldn’t take her time, wanting to touch everywhere at once. Brady’s soft lips were heaven, home, and brought crushing relief to her with each kiss.

His hands slipped under her robe and grabbed her ass, lifting her up to wrap her legs around his waist. “We should head inside,” he murmured against her ear.

Oh, Deena. Wonderful, wonderful Deena and her “just in case.”
Nia held on with one arm around his neck and the other reached into the pocket of her robe to produce a condom. “I have a friend who makes me prepare for anything.”

“Smart woman.” He plucked the package from her hand.

“If I have my way, I’ll keep you far, far away from her.”

He dropped to his knees, then eased her back; soft grass met her body and she didn’t care—not where they were, not about anything but the feel of him touching her again. Her camisole top was thrust up where her bare breasts waited and his lips descended, tracing delicious lines over her flesh.

She worked at his jeans, popping loose the buttons, panting, aching, craving. “You could help me get our pants off,” she said with a sigh.

Blue eyes turned upward, meeting her gaze, as his tongue darted out to circle her dark brown nipple into a hard, sensitive peak. Brady grinned. “Demanding.”

Her lips fought a smile. “
Impatient
,” she corrected.

He chuckled and the condom package crinkled; while she kicked off her pajama bottoms, he swiftly sheathed himself and ducked back down, immediately continuing where he left off by turning his attention to her breasts.

Cool air from the river in the distance coated her skin and goose flesh rose. She whimpered, raised her hips, and when the broad tip of his cock probed her, she sighed at last. He groaned as he eased into her slowly, inch by inch driving past her wet folds. When he’d sunk in to the hilt, he met her gaze with desire-clouded eyes, tucked a stray hair from her forehead, and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

She was home.

Nia planted her feet on the grass and flexed her hips up, meeting each thrust. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her throat. Her body was positively humming, throbbing, climax building with each plunge inside her until she thought she might burst.

“Brady,” she sighed his name, “please.”

Happy tickles danced down her spine as he breathed against her ear. “Yes?”

Her voice came out raspy between shallow exhalations. “Now.”

The plea seemed to be all he needed. He shifted his hand between their bodies and pressed firmly against her clit. She cried out and bucked, stars playing behind her eyes. Just as she came down from her orgasm, he gripped her hips and slammed into her three more times before groaning his release. He collapsed against her, limp, letting out a ragged breath against her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, quite certain she never wanted to let him go.

The endorphin induced haze over her brain rolled away and she vaguely heard the grass whispering under rapid steps; she tipped her head back, opened her eyes, and saw the horrified stare of a middle-aged man in overalls standing at the corner of her house.

Brady looked up as well and muttered under his breath as the contractor—with apparently the worst timing
ever
—turned and hightailed it away from her backyard.

Nia sighed. “Well. Since news travels fast, I might never venture into town again.”

Brady grinned down at her. “I’ll build you a fence.”

She smiled too. “I’d like that.”

And she kissed him.

About the Author

Asha King likes good-looking men and hot books, and often strives to combine the two. She lives in the exotic land of Alberta, Canada, where she doesn’t ride a polar bear to work but does drink vast amounts of locally brewed beer and watches hockey.

You can email her at [email protected] and visit her on the web at: http://www.midnightkisses.com/asha.html

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