“Don’t come yet,” he warned as a needy sound echoed around him. He pulled out and knelt before her. She swayed a bit, her eyes wide, face flushed. Her chest heaved and he knew she was a hairs-breadth from coming.

He touched her gently, his palms pushing the hem of her dress upward, exposing the vee between her thighs. Bare, wet—the scent of her honey tightened his gut and he leaned down, breathing her in.

Her fingers still curled there, shiny with her juice. Fuck. Fuck, he was in so deep with her. She moved him when he imaged himself quite beyond being touched in such a way.

“You want to finish, don’t you?”

Erin focused her gaze on him, the tendrils of climax still holding her close, beckoning. She’d never actually let another person hold her orgasm before. It was ridiculous and yet beyond intoxicating to hand him that power.

One twitch of her fingers and she’d fall. She thought of it, holding her hand still. Their gazes locked. His taste rang through her system; his c**k was still out of his jeans, partially reviving. He was so near, the heat from him radiated across her skin.

She swallowed hard, trying to find words. A nod was all she managed.

He took her wrist, gently moving her fingers away from her cunt. Her breath caught as he lowered his face, on his hands and knees now, to her pu**y.

Nothing at first, just the soft waft of his breath against her thighs. She had to fight the urge to strain upward to his mouth. He hadn’t said she could. So she remained still, waiting . . .

“Good god, what you do to me,” he said, his lips just barely brushing her labia. The subtle sensation sent a shock wave of heat through her. “You can touch your ni**les or me,” he said right before the slick of his tongue slid through her cunt.

She didn’t think to touch her ni**les; all she could do was brace herself with her hands on the floor behind her ass where she knelt, her back arched, her thighs widening.

She wanted to watch him, but bright stars painted her vision with each small flutter of his tongue against her pu**y, so she closed her eyes and felt. Her muscles began to burn from kneeling; sweat broke out on the back of her neck and she licked dry lips.

One more flutter of his tongue and a gasp wrenched from low in her gut. Orgasm rocketed through her body, rolling in waves until she had to beg him to stop.

He kissed her while her eyes were still closed, and they tumbled back to the area rug.

When she opened her eyes again, he looked down and she saw the tenderness in his gaze. Inside she knew what would happen and before she could stop him, he said it.

“I love you, Erin.”

She could not love him. Would not. The price was too damned high! She had to close her eyes again because tears welled up. Too late, too late, because she knew she loved him too, had for years, and it had lain dormant in her heart until she saw him in her café just weeks before.

Shit.

He kissed each eyelid. “I know it might seem sudden but it’s not really. We’ve known each other ten years. You fit in the empty spaces just right. There’s a spot in my life that’s your size. Don’t say anything just now. Let me take you to dinner. Let me love you. The rest is what’s important. Not words, but deeds.”

If he’d been harsh or hurt, if he’d demanded an answer, she could have resisted. But this gentleness was not something she could deal with.

So she nodded and allowed him to help her up.

He insisted on holding her hand as they walked over to Fourth and Virginia, to Lola.

He pulled her chair out for her, then moved his next to hers instead of across. His arm rested at her back, at the top of the chair, and he smelled so good she wanted to eat him up.

“What’s good here? The only place Tom Douglas had when I lived here before was the Dahlia Lounge.” He grinned at her before brushing a strand of hair back that had stuck to her lip gloss.

“Most everything. First of all we have to get fresh pita. It comes with all these different spreads and it’s really delish. I’m having a tagine, but the kabobs are yummy too. It all is, I promise.”

They ordered, and when the bread arrived, she automatically made him a plate, laughing and asking him what he liked and didn’t. When she placed the plate in front of him and looked into his eyes, she jolted a moment.

“Are you mad?”

He brushed a thumb over her collarbone, ever so softly as he shook his head. “No. I love when you do that. When you take care of me. It’s,” he licked his lips, searching for words, “it gets to me.”

“Th-thank you. That’s a lovely thing to say.” She didn’t say more, because she liked taking care of him. A lot.

She couldn’t love Todd Keenan. Period. The cost of loving people was losing them, and she could not bear it again. It was too late not to love her brothers, but she needed to put the kibosh on this love thing for Todd right then.

Fucking—hell yes. Loving—hell no. She didn’t have the time to love anyone else. Her love bill was full. He needed a woman who was whole and not f**ked up. She was not that woman.

12

Todd walked back with her, loving the way the breeze ruffled the bottom of her dress. Her hair, so shockingly pink, looked like soft cotton candy. He nearly laughed aloud at the thought that he’d ever find such a description romantic, much less beautiful, but there it was.

On her it all worked. Because she was simply one of a kind. One of a kind and nervous as the shadows had lengthened into night.

She’d jumped several times as sudden laughter or talking drifted from a doorway, from the fronts of the cafés and stores marking their route back to her building.