Soaring On Love. Joy Avery
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