Soaring On Love

Roth brought her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. It was the most intimate and soul-stirring move he could have made. The energy delivered through the sensual and delicate act sent a shock wave of desire sparking through her system. Everything about being there with Roth felt so right and so wrong all at the same time.

Chapter 3

When Tressa had volunteered to whip something up, it didn’t take long for Roth to discover that they had two totally different definitions of the term. While he’d suggested preparing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—to which she’d laughed hysterically—Tressa had taken the reins and created a spread that looked as if it belonged in a magazine for culinary professionals.

How in the hell had she managed to turn generic grocery items—a block of cheddar cheese, a can of Southern biscuits, beef hot dogs, thin-sliced pepperoni, club crackers, kettle chips and French onion dip—into a work of edible art? She truly was amazing in the kitchen.

“Wow. This looks scrumptious,” he said, his growling stomach loudly approving. “A nurse and a chef. How in the heck did that happen?”

“I grew up watching my family help others. My father was a policeman, my mother a teacher. I had aunts, uncles and cousins who were firemen, clergy, counselors, doctors, lawyers, you name it. If there is a position out there geared toward helping people, one of my family members held it. Now, my love for cooking...I got that from my Poppa. My grandfather,” she clarified and beamed with pride.

Roth envied her, envied anyone who’d grown up surrounded by family. As a youngster, he’d dreamed of growing up, getting married and having a thousand kids. Somewhere along the way, that vision had faded. Tressa’s voice snatched him out of his thoughts.

“Do you mind if we eat in front of the fireplace?” she said.

“Sounds good to me.”

After arranging everything on the brown shag rug, Roth returned to the kitchen for two hard black cherry lemonades. It’d actually been Tressa who’d introduced him to the drink. He usually went for the harder stuff—whiskey—or the occasional beer. With her feminine wiles, she’d convinced him to try the sweet beverage when they’d both been at Alonso and Vivian’s place at the beach. He’d got hooked. On Tressa and the drink.

Roth recalled that beach trip. Watching Tressa wade through the water in an ocean-blue bikini, her skin glistening under the rays of the sun, had been torture in its most pleasurable form. On several occasions he’d wanted to ignore the fact that she was seeing someone and seduce the hell out of her, but he’d resisted. Looking back, he wished he had taken a risk. Maybe it would have spared her some heartache.

“Earth to Roth.”

Tressa’s voice pulled him back to reality. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“Yes. I asked if you could bring some napkins.”

Roth grabbed a stack of napkins off the counter and fanned them through the air. “Got it.” He passed her one of the bottles, then eased down next to her.

Tressa eyed him curiously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he repeated when she didn’t look convinced. “I drift sometimes. Growing up in foster care, I rarely got privacy. Sometimes escaping inside my own head was my only refuge.”

Damn. Why had he shared any of that? His past was typically something he kept to himself. Not because he was ashamed of it, but because the second people learned he’d been a foster kid, they showered him with unnecessary sympathy. He hated that with a passion.

“I was a foster mother to a six-year-old once. Jamison,” she said absently. “I’ll never do it again.”

“Wow. That bad, huh?”

Tressa grimaced. “God, I made that sound so harsh and insensitive. Let me clarify. I wouldn’t do it again because I grew so attached to him in the short time he was with me. Watching him leave was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I cried like a baby for days.”

He’d picked up on Tressa’s nurturing side the first time he’d met her. It was one of the things he found so attractive about her. Nursing was the perfect profession for her. “Why didn’t you adopt him?” Roth asked out of curiosity. She seemed to have cared for the child.

Tressa stared into the crackling fire. “I wanted to.”

“Cyrus? Is he why you didn’t adopt Jamison?” Roth wasn’t sure why he’d come to that conclusion, but when Tressa faced him again he knew he’d been spot-on. He hated the man even more.

She slid her gaze back to the fire. “Pathetic, huh?”

Roth wanted to say something encouraging, but he couldn’t find the words. Growing up, every single day he’d wished for someone to care enough to want to adopt him, but it had never happened. But Tressa could have been the answer to the prayers Roth was sure Jamison said every night. She could have saved him from the hell of the foster system. But instead, she’d allowed that bastard Cyrus to convince her to send Jamison back into...hell.

Anger swirled inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was geared more toward Cyrus or Tressa. He took a long swig from his bottle.

“After two weeks without the sound of Jamison’s laughter, I realized the mistake I’d made. I contacted the agency, but I was too late. A family was interested in adopting him. I know I should have been ecstatic he’d found a permanent home. I was and I wasn’t.” She shook her head. “I had no right to be upset. I’d had my opportunity and blew it. I was being selfish. Which is typically not me, might I add.”

She’d redeemed herself.

“He would have been lucky to have you as his mother.”

A lazy smile curled her lips. “Thank you, Roth. That was kind of you to say.”

Tressa’s lips parted, then closed as if she’d reconsidered what she was about to say. The move drew his attention to her mouth. A knot formed in his stomach when he thought about how badly he wanted to lean over and kiss her. Not a smart move. Fight this, Lexington.

“I asked for a sign.”

Scrambling his thoughts of ravishing her mouth, he said, “Excuse me?”

“Tonight. Right before you joined me on the balcony. I asked God to send me a sign if I was making a mistake by marrying Cyrus.”

Was she suggesting he’d been her sign? Something warm and prideful blossomed in his chest.

“I guess your fiancé’s mistress crashing your engagement party was a fairly obvious one, huh?”

And just like that, it wilted. “You don’t seem too distraught about it.” Roth pressed his lids together. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was an insensitive and stupid thing to say. I’m sure you’re plenty upset.”

“I’m not, actually. I mean, I’m angry as hell and hurt, but not in a debilitating manner, if that makes sense.”

He hadn’t expected that response. “Why?”

A beat of silence played between them.

Tressa lowered her head as if to hide her face in shame. “Because deep down, I knew Cyrus wasn’t the right one for me. I just hung on in hopes of my feelings changing. I guess I kinda brought this whole mess on myself.”

Roth knew it was a statement that didn’t need a response, so he remained quiet. Before he’d even realized what he was doing, he draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his chest. Tressa rested against him without any hesitations. Maybe he couldn’t have her in the way he truly wanted, but he could be a friend in her time of need.

* * *

Tressa tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. When she moved, it felt as if she were stuck to the smoldering leather. Kicking the quilt off that Roth had given her, she sat up and dragged the back of her hand across her forehead. It had to be three thousand degrees in here. And since heat rose, she was sure Roth was cooked to a crisp.

She sent a gaze to the loft. Though her view was obstructed, she imagined him sprawled out across the bed, his body sweat-dampened and glistening. A tingle in her belly slowly traveled to the space between her legs. As usual, her body was clearly on a mission to destroy her.

The popping embers brought her attention to the fireplace. She thought about their time in front of it earlier and how Roth had pulled her into his arms, and how safe she’d felt there. He’d wanted to kiss her, she was sure of it. So why hadn’t he? Because he was too much of a gentleman.

She’d wanted Roth to kiss her, do more than kiss her, and it irked the hell out of her that he hadn’t. But it’d probably been for the best. What kind of woman wanted a man to seduce her mere hours after finding out her fiancé has been sleeping with another woman? A woman out for revenge, she thought to herself.

No, that wasn’t it. She blew a heavy breath. Her desire, need, want for Roth, weren’t fueled by any of those things. Her longing for him was as authentic as it got. Which was why she had to fight it.

Tressa allowed her head to fall back against the cushions. Why did she always choose the wrong men? That included Roth. She wanted to believe he was a good guy, but the fact he could so easily push one woman aside—who probably believed she had a position in his life—for another, even if the other was her, suggested otherwise.

Pushing everyone else aside, she focused on herself. “Will I ever find love?” she whispered to the universe, a tear sliding out the corner of her eye. “True love.” That kind of ridiculous love that made you suddenly smile for no reason at all. She deserved that and wanted it. Wanted a husband who loved her beyond words. Wanted a family, a house full of kids—biological, adoptive or both. She wanted dogs, family dinners, vacations. “I want it all,” she mumbled.

“You got it.”

Tressa bolted forward to see Roth standing at the edge of the stairs in a navy blue tee that hugged his solid frame nicely and navy-blue-and-white pajama bottoms that sat just right on his lean frame. “What?”

“Insomnia?”

Tressa laughed at herself and wiped her eyes. “Um...sometimes. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Ah, no, you didn’t. I have trouble sleeping sometimes, too.”

Roth studied her. No doubt he wanted to address her tears, but she prayed he wouldn’t. Then, as if he’d read her mind, he turned his attention to the kitchen.

“Hot cocoa usually helps. Would you like some?” he said.

Although she teetered on the edge of spontaneously combusting, she said, “Sure.” She could use the conversation, as long as it wasn’t about her.

When she rose, her muscles protested the move.

Roth chuckled. “So, how’s the sofa? Hate me yet?”

“Ha ha.” Making her way across the room, she said, “Can I help?”

“No.” Roth pointed to the small dining table. “Sit, woman.”

Tressa saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

Lounging in a chair, Tressa gleefully watched Roth move about. There was something alluring about a man working in the kitchen, especially this man. Even if all he was doing was heating milk.

Roth chatted about something, but truthfully, she had no idea about what. Lost in her own thoughts, she chuckled when she recalled the animated expression on his face when she’d nixed his PB&J sandwich suggestion.

“Don’t laugh. It could happen,” Roth said.

Breaking free from her thoughts, she said, “Um...what exactly could happen?”

He rested a hand on his hip. “You haven’t heard a single word I’ve said, have you?”

Tressa bit at the corner of her lip and shook her head. “Sorry. I drift off sometimes.”

He barked a laugh. Obviously, at the fact she’d used his own words against him. “Prepare to be impressed.” He approached the table with two steaming mugs, set one in front of her, then lowered into a chair next to her at the square table with his in his hand.

Tressa took a sip and moaned. “Mmm. Real milk. And the cinnamon is a delicious touch. You did well.”

“See, I can do a little something-something in the kitchen, too.”

She imagined he could do a lot of something-something elsewhere, as well. After taking another sip, she said, “So, what is it that could happen?” Referring to his comment from earlier.

Roth’s eyes slid to his mug, but only briefly. “While you’re here with me, I plan to cater to your every need.”

This sobered Tressa rather quickly. Cater to her every need? The possibilities made her stomach flutter and her body bloom. God, she prayed her nipples didn’t bead underneath the oversize T-shirt Roth had given her to sleep in.

Scattering the illicit images hijacking her thoughts, she lowered her eyes to the steam rising from her cup. “Why—” She cleared her throat. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because you deserve it. You’ve been through a lot. I think you need to be reminded that you’re still a queen. And queens get served.” He tapped her foot playfully with his own.

Tressa dared her body to give one damn indication of how much his words had affected her. Finally, someone saw and acknowledged her worth. But why did it have to be the man she was determined to resist?

Roth continued, “Plus, something tells me you never really abandon nurse mode. That you’re constantly taking care of others and rarely focus on yourself, doing what makes Tressa happy.”

Doing what makes Tressa happy. That should become her new motto. She shrugged one shoulder. “I like helping people,” she said, in lieu of confessing that he was 100 percent correct. She rarely took time for herself.

“This weekend... It’s all about you, lady. Got it?”

Roth crossed one ankle over the opposite knee, rested his hands in his lap, tilted his head and eyed her as if asserting his authority. She propped her elbow on the table, rested her cheek against her palm and eyed him back. That seemed to be their thing—staring at one another for long, heated moments.

“Got it.” What else could she say?

“Good.”

Roth was a lethal combination: successful, sexy, charming. And he used it all well. Though a future with him was impractical, was a night of passionate, no-strings-attached sex out of the question?

What the hell was she saying? Roth struck her as the kind of man who molded into your system and stayed there, the kind of man who made women lose their minds. One night? Something told her one night with him would spiral her out of control. Her world was topsy-turvy enough. Still, everything about him intrigued her. Stay away.

Tressa circled her finger around the rim of the mug, ignoring his alluring aura. “I apologize if I caused any problems between you and your weekend companion.” A corner of Roth’s mouth lifted and her eyes fixed on his lips. Had anyone ever told him how damn sexy his mouth was? She was sure they had.

“Don’t apologize,” he said.

“I ruined your plans.”

“Shit happens.”

“Yes, it does.” And there was some other shit she would love to happen right then.

Shit like him leaning over and kissing her long and hard.

Shit like him gliding his large hands up her bare thighs and underneath her shirt.

Shit like him pushing her panties to the side and curving two long fingers inside her.

Yes, all of that.

“Drifting again?” Roth said in a low, sensual tone.

Straightening her back, she said, “Um...why do you ask?”

Roth’s eyes lowered to her chest and lingered there several seconds before rising. “Seemed as if you were...daydreaming.”

The prickle on her skin told her she would regret looking down, but she tilted her head forward anyway. Yep, regret. Blazing-hot, flesh-searing regret.

There was no hiding those high beams of her beaded nipples. If she could have utilized one superpower at that very moment, it would have been the ability to make herself invisible. She pushed to a stand, urging the floor to swallow her. “I’m really tired. I’m...” Instead of finishing her thought, she forced her feet forward and willed her body to deactivate like she was a Transformer.

“You haven’t finished your cocoa.”

“It worked.” She forced a yawn. “I don’t think I need any more.”

“Wait,” Roth said.

Tressa froze as if he’d pointed a gun at her. When he moved toward her, she felt a wave of nervous tension. His head pointed toward the stairs. “Take the bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

As tempting as the offer was, she shook her head, then snuggled back onto the sofa.

A beat later Roth climbed in behind her. “Anyone ever told you you’re too damn headstrong sometimes?”

Tressa stilled, her body going berserk from Roth’s closeness, his solidness, his heat, his scent. Processing it all scrambled her brain. Her nipples tightened even more, her breathing grew clumsy, the space between her legs throbbed and begged to be touched. Sparring with her out-of-control body, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Many call it being passionate. And what do you think you’re doing?”

“If you’re on the sofa, so am I. We suffer together.”

“Roth—”

He made a snoring sound, which made her laugh. “Okay, suit yourself. But I’m not moving. I’ve grown very fond of this sofa. It’s extremely comfortable. And for the record, no one falls asleep that fast.”

Another round of snores caused her to laugh again.

Who was being the headstrong one now? If he wanted to stay there, then so be it. But there was no way she was getting off this sofa. Not because she was trying to prove how stubborn she could be. It was because Roth snuggled behind her felt too damn good to simply walk away from.

Chapter 4

While Tressa showered, Roth scrounged up something for her to wear shopping. He placed the T-shirt and sweatpants on the bed, then went back downstairs. Removing Juliette, he went out onto the deck to free his trapped emotions through music notes. He played and played hard. A rigid and rough tone that would be considered too edgy for most. This soothed him.

Several minutes later he stopped abruptly and snatched the instrument from his lips. He deserved every damn bothersome emotion swirling around inside him. The harder he tried to deny the pull Tressa had on him, the stronger it became, like a spiteful monster taunting him with its power over him.

If he had just allowed Tressa to get out of his SUV at the hotel, all of this could have been avoided. Why had he brought Tressa here?

Dammit. He was losing control. He never lost control.

The scene from that morning played in his head—waking up with Tressa fast asleep in his arms. For an hour he’d simply watched her sleep, not moving a single muscle and risking waking her. She felt right in his arms. Too damn right.

At one point he’d been so damn hard he was surprised he hadn’t pushed her off the sofa. And when she subconsciously ground her ass against him, he thought he would die a slow and painful death. One thing was for sure, he didn’t stand a chance in hell against Tressa Washington.

He was good at hard and cold. So why did he keep dispensing soft and warm around her. Cater to your every need? Had he really said that shit? He chuckled. Yep. And the funny thing about it, he’d actually meant every word.

He raised Juliette to his lips again but reconsidered. With the mayhem inside him now, playing would terrify the wildlife.

Tressa was right here. Right here for the claiming. Why was he hesitating?

From the deck, he heard her cell phone vibrate again. The tenth time in the past hour. Cyrus’s no-good ass, no doubt. Tempted to answer the phone and tell the bastard to never call Tressa again, Roth resisted. Hell, for all he knew she wanted him to keep calling. She hadn’t actually taken any of his calls to tell him otherwise. Wouldn’t that have been the logical thing to do?

Wow. Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? He hadn’t exactly jumped to take India’s calls, either. Well, at least she’d had the good gumption to stop calling, obviously realizing he’d rescinded her invitation to the cabin.

Venturing back inside, he stored Juliette, then fixed himself another cup of coffee while he waited for Tressa so they could go to the store. Roth chuckled. Tressa’s presence was definitely going to shock the hell out of Glen. He hoped the man didn’t jump to any conclusions. He and Tressa were just friends. And that was how it had to remain. At least for now. At least until he was sure she was over her ex. And right now he wasn’t so convinced that she was.

* * *

Tressa and Roth arrived at The General Store. Tressa originally assumed it was what Roth called it, but that was actually the name. The General Store. Couldn’t get more generic than that. The airy barnlike structure resembled something from an old Western movie from the outside, but the inside was anything but old-timey.

Everything occupied the large store, including clothing. That was great because, though she was grateful, Roth’s baggy St. Claire Aeronautics T-shirt and oversize black sweatpants didn’t exactly make her a walking fashion movement. Nor did the stilettos she wore with it. And the mountain jacket swallowed her whole. But that part was okay, because Roth’s scent saturated it. It was like having his warm arms swaddled around her all over again.

Her thoughts went to waking in his arms that morning. She couldn’t recall ever experiencing a more peaceful night of sleep—well, until Roth started flinching in his sleep. Whatever he’d been dreaming kept him active.

Falling asleep on the sofa with Roth was one mistake she would not make again. The lapse in judgment had pushed her body to the brink of sexual insanity. Stubborn, passionate, whatever you wanted to call it, that had definitely been one battle she hadn’t picked wisely.

“Lord, look who the mountain lion done dragged in.”

Tressa followed the raspy voice to a short, round man. His long-sleeved denim shirt was buttoned all the way to the top and tucked into a pair of faded jeans held in place by green suspenders. With a head full of wiry salt-and-pepper hair, the older man kind of reminded her of her grandfather. God rest his soul.

A very docile dog with paws the size of saucers ambled up to Roth and brushed against his pant leg in the same manner an adoring cat would do. Roth rubbed his large head. “What’s up, Shank?”

Shank’s appreciation of the attention was clear, his back leg pumping harder the more Roth rubbed him. If Tressa hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn the dog had smiled.

Tressa hung back while Roth, the gentleman and Shank socialized, but she could hear their conversation.

“Nettie told me you were coming to town. Since you’re gonna be here a week, make sure you stop by for supper before you leave. You know Nettie will be hurt if you don’t.”

“I don’t think I’ll get by this trip. I’m only here for the weekend.”

Confusion crinkled the man’s aged dark brown skin. “I thought Nettie said you were here for the week.”

Roth clapped him on the shoulder. “Change of plans.”

Was the change because of her?

“Well, shucks. It’s probably for the best. They’re calling for snow Monday. Could be a headache.” For the first time, his swamp-green eyes trailed to Tressa. “Or romantic. ’Pends on how you view it, I suppose. Hello, beautiful.” He brushed past Roth.

“Glen, this is my friend Tressa,” Roth said.

Tressa wasn’t sure why Roth’s use of the word friend bothered her, because it was exactly what they were. Friends. Just friends. “Hello.” She offered her hand, but Glen pulled her into an embrace that suggested they’d known each other for years. Okay, then. A hug it is. Unlike with Roth, Shank had little interest in her and disappeared behind the counter.

When Glen held her at arm’s length, his round cheeks blossomed. “Well, it’s a pleasure meeting you, friend Tressa.” Glen cut his eyes in Roth’s direction. “And any friend of this man’s is definitely a friend of mine.”

Tressa noted Glen’s obvious admiration for Roth.

Glen continued, “I know you haven’t gone through all of that food my Nettie took to your place.” He clapped a hand on Roth’s shoulder. “My wife likes to make sure this joker is taken care of. And when she heard it might snow...she packed like a famine was coming.” Glen sounded a huge laugh that made his stomach jiggle.