She turned and started walking again, but Mitch held on to her hand.
"Some dreams aren't attainable," she said.
"You can do anything you set your mind to do."
"Easy if you already have money."
"Not everyone starts with money, Greta. You just have to figure out what you want, then determine how you're going to get it. Then let nothing stand in your way until you do."
"You make it sound so easy."
"Having something that really matters to you is never easy. But it's not impossible."
"Sometimes it is impossible."
He stopped, reached for her shoulders, his fingers warm against her wind-chilled skin. "It's only impossible if you give up your dreams."
"My dreams died a long time ago."
He slid his knuckles against her cheek. "They shouldn't have. You're way too young to give up on what you really want."
"I don't know what I really want anymore. I stopped thinking about myself a long time ago."
"Maybe it's time you started again."
She shook her head. "I don't need or want anything."
His slight smile made her belly quiver. "Don't you? Are you sure there's nothing you want?"
He wasn't talking about her motel. She knew it, and he knew it.
Waves pounded the shore, sending water across her feet. But she stood rooted to the spot, her toes digging into the wet sand as Mitch moved in, erasing any space between them.
Now her own blood rushing through her veins obliterated the sound of the crashing surf. Mitch leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. She tasted wine, the salty spray of the sea, and she raised up, twining her arms around his neck to press closer, hungry for more.
Mitch obliged her, sliding his tongue inside her mouth and licking against hers, then pressing his lips more firmly, tightening his hold on her, bringing her closer to him so she could feel every hard inch of his body. He was well toned for a man his age--hell, for a man way younger than him. His body was all hard muscle as she slid her arms across his shoulders and down his arms. He palmed the small of her back and brought her against the rock hard plane of his chest, his abs, the prominent erection she couldn't--didn't want to--ignore.
Her breathing shallowed as his kiss deepened, and she forgot that his hands were on her ass, that they stood at the water's edge, right there in public. Could someone see them? Did she even care? Her brain was fuzzy--too much wine. She wanted to feel his skin under her fingertips. She had sensory overload and her synapses weren't firing correctly. She needed to think, and yet this one night she wanted to give up thinking. All she wanted to do was feel, and she was doing a pretty good job of noticing that one of Mitch's hands had cupped the cheek of her ass, the other gripped her hip and was now traveling over her waist, her ribs, and when he covered her breast she gasped into his mouth. His groan against her lips made her tremble.
She rocked against him, her pussy wet and quivering with awakening. It had been so long. She needed a man--just for tonight. Then she could take off the Cinderella ball gown, toss on her shorts and T-shirt and go back to cleaning the castle once again. But tonight, she really wanted to be the princess and enjoy the prince, knowing that she and Mitch were worlds apart, that in a week or so he'd fly off in a corporate jet somewhere, and she'd have wonderful memories of a night spent in his arms, without commitment, without strings. She demanded nothing, and neither would he.
"Please," she whispered, breaking the contact with his delicious mouth.
He pulled his head back. "You sure?"
"Yes." She loved that he asked. Cody had never asked. He'd demanded, he'd taken.
No, she'd promised herself she wouldn't think about him anymore. Ever again. And especially not tonight.
"Come on." He took her hand and led her back toward the bungalow.
She was a little nervous about being so exposed. But he surprised her by bypassing the cabana and taking the little stone steps to the walkway leading back to the hotel.
"My shoes."
"I'll have someone grab them and deliver them to the suite in the morning."
Her stomach fluttered. In the morning. They were spending the night? "Uh, Mitch..."
"I already told your mother I was kidnapping you, and that we might decide to stay over and enjoy an overnight tour of the area. She'll take care of picking up your kids in the morning from Don's and taking care of the motel."
She should be angry that he'd assumed. But she wasn't. He didn't intimate that she was a sure thing, only that she might want to enjoy the sights. He led her into the lobby, then stopped at the desk for a key, thanked the person on duty and they moved toward the elevator. He slid the key card in a slot in the elevator and they rode to the top floor.
"Penthouse?"
He smiled. "I have a suite on the top floor."
She shook her head. Of course he did.
The elevator opened directly onto the suite, which was incredible, luxurious, in blacks and creams with floor to ceiling views of the city and the ocean that she barely had time to gape at because they hadn't moved more than halfway into the main living room before Mitch swept her into his arms again and planted his mouth on hers.
She lost her breath on the first kiss, her body firing up on all cylinders as his hands roamed over the straps of her dress, rolling them over her shoulders then down her arms. Trapped, her arms pinned to her sides, time stopped. She suddenly found herself unable to breathe, her mind lost between the present and the past, remembering all too well that feeling of being unable to move, of being held, of having choice taken away from her.
No. Don't think about that. This isn't at all like it was with Cody.
But her damn mind wouldn't cooperate. She was breathing too fast, getting lightheaded, her fingertips going numb.
Shit. Not now.
"Greta? Is something wrong?"
Mitch stepped away and she hastily jerked the straps of her dress up right before her knees buckled, the room spinning out of control. He was there to catch her before she crumpled to the floor.
Idiot. Moron. Dumbass. How could she have an attack now, and at this moment?
"Whoa. What's wrong?"
She fought for breath, tried to form words but all she could do was concentrate on sucking in oxygen. Too much oxygen. Slow down. Her face was numb. She wanted to die of embarrassment, to crawl into a hole and disappear.
Mitch's voice was soft and tender as he spoke to her. "Come on. Let's sit you down." He picked her up and carried her to the sofa, set her down and then sat next to her. "Put your head down below your knees."
She knew the drill. Apparently, he did, too.
"Breathe slow, in and out. Concentrate. That's it."
His coaching helped. She followed his instructions, focusing only on the sound of his voice instead of her erratic breathing and shaky body. Soon, she could feel her fingers and toes again. It was working.
"You're not going to fall over, are you? I'm going to get you a glass of water."
She waved her hand and nodded. He left and was back not more than a minute later.
"Drink this."
Now that her head wasn't spinning, she lifted it slowly, took the glass of water and sipped, letting Mitch hold the glass since her hands were still shaking. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. I brought this, too."
He swept her hair away from her neck and pressed a cold washcloth to her nape. God, that felt so good, swept away the cloying heat her cold sweat had brought on. She spent a few minutes with her hands pressed together in her lap, letting the washcloth ease the overwhelming warmth from her body. When she had it all under control again, she turned her gaze to him. "I'm really sorry, Mitch."
"Don't be. I've seen panic attacks before. Can you lean back now?"
"Yes."
He stood and opened the sliding door to let the cool breeze sweep in. Greta sucked in giant gulps of ocean filled air. With each breath, she felt more normal again. As normal as a mor
on could feel anyway.
So much for her planned evening of sweet seduction and sex. "Mitch, I can explain."
"I don't think you have to explain anything," he said, his arms folded in front of him as he looked down at her. "He held you down and forced you, didn't he?"
Okay, so she didn't have to explain. She swallowed, not wanting to admit it but figuring she owed him an explanation. "Yes."
He sat next to her on the sofa. "And I got too close, held you too tight, went too fast, and it was just like him. I'm sorry, Greta."
She turned to face him, pulling her legs up on the sofa. "You did nothing wrong. When you pulled my straps down it just triggered a memory of being pinned."
"Shit." Mitch dragged his fingers through his hair. "He tied you up?"
"Sometimes. Only if I wasn't cooperative. Which was a lot toward the end because I wanted nothing to do with him."
Mitch blew out a very loud sigh. "Why didn't you press charges?"
She let her lips curve. "It's never as easy as it seems. Pressing rape charges against your own husband is very difficult to prove. And he wasn't always like that. Just the last year or so, when the drugs took over..."
"It doesn't matter. He had no right."
"No, he didn't. But by then I just wanted out. I wanted him gone. Fortunately, he knew what was coming and he took off before I got the police involved. I got my divorce and got him away from me and the kids."
"Does Don know about this?"
"Oh, God no. Don would have killed him and I couldn't bear that. No matter what he did, he's still the father of my children. I wanted him gone, not dead. Only my mother knew what Cody had done. And once it was over and he had disappeared, I was okay. That's all I really wanted, was to get him away from us."
"Are you sure?"
"I got a restraining order. He can't come near me without being arrested. I haven't seen him for five years. He's supposed to pay child support. Believe me, he doesn't want to be found. He's out of our lives."
He brushed his fingers across her cheek, the gesture so gentle it made her want to cry. "But what about you?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you?"
"Mom paid for quite a few sessions with a rape counselor when she found out what Cody did to me. They helped. They helped a lot."
"That's good."
"And I don't have these panic attacks all that often. It's just that I haven't...been with anyone. I didn't know how I was going to react."
Mitch arched a brow. "You haven't been with anyone...in how long?"
She tipped her gaze to her lap, then back at him. "Since him."
He sighed again, then rubbed his fingers across his brow. "Fuck. I didn't know."
She laughed. "Of course you didn't know."
He shifted, then pulled out his phone. "I'll order the helicopter and we'll take you back home."
Her stomach fell to her feet. "What? Why?"
"Because I don't want to hurt you."
She took the phone out of his hands and set it down on the coffee table in front of them. "I don't want to go home, Mitch. I want to stay here and finish what we started."
He eyed her warily. "Greta. You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. You have nothing to prove."
"I'm not trying to prove anything. And I refuse to let him ruin me. What's done is in the past. It's been five years, Mitch. It's time I move on with my life. And I can't think of a better person to do that with. I trust you. You'll never hurt me like Cody did."
He lifted one strand of her hair and sifted his fingers through it. "No, Greta. I would never hurt you like that."
"Then don't end this night. Please."
He leaned in, pressed his lips to hers, a light, gentle kiss before pulling away.
"Are you sure this is what you want?"
Now it was her turn to lean in. "Yes." She kissed him, rimmed his bottom lip with her tongue, felt the warmth of his breath on her face. "You have no idea how much."
"You have to tell me every step of the way if it's too much for you."
She shuddered out a breath, knowing she'd made the right decision. "I will. Just make love to me, don't treat me like I'm fragile. I won't break, I promise."
Chapter Seven
Mitch stared at Greta, amazed. A woman who'd been through so much, had survived trauma and come through it so strong.
A few minutes ago she'd been in the throes of a hard, gut-wrenching panic attack.
Now, she was asking him to do the one thing to her that caused terror deep in her soul.
Part of him wanted to walk away, didn't want to be the one to hurt her like her ex-husband had. Another part of him craved to be the one to touch her, to show her that not all men were abusive assholes. Because he knew he could do it right. Someone else might not.
And she damn well deserved to have it done right.
God knows he wanted her, had since the first time he laid eyes on her at the motel. And it had nothing to do with wanting to romance the motel out from under her, and everything to do with the softness of her skin, the sweetness of her smile, the way she laughed, the way she made him feel.
He hadn't been this relaxed, hadn't enjoyed a woman's company this much in a long time. Greta was real. He knew more about her in two days than most women he spent months with. Why was that? Because they had a history together?
They really didn't have a history, though. His history was with her brother. That's who he'd been friends with all those years ago. Yet he knew a lot about Greta. And he wanted to know more.
He stood and held out his hand for her, helping her stand. "Steady on your feet now?"
She nodded. "I'm perfectly fine."
Yeah, she was, beautiful in her silver sparkly dress that showed off her curves and her shapely legs. And she'd worn her hair down tonight, all burnished auburn waves that had caught the light of the setting sun. He reached behind her and undid the clip at the top of her head, then tangled his fingers in those soft curls to bring her face close to his.
He paused, waiting. "You're sure."
"Yes."
"I'm going to undress you, touch you, taste you, fuck you. We're going to do this all night long. I'm going to make you come over and over again, Greta. But I will not hurt you. I know exactly what the word no means. Use it if you need to."
She shuddered a breath, her eyes glassy with passion. She nodded, then licked her lips.
He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. She had an amazing mouth, warm and inviting, her taste sweet. He wanted more, wanted it now, but he tempered his need, remembering that this was her first time after being treated badly by someone who should have cared for her. He was going to take things slow, starting with the kiss. He explored her lips, her tongue, letting her set the pace, letting her tongue dance with his, letting Greta see that she was going to be the one in control tonight. Because that's what she needed. And when she leaned against him, laid her hands on his shoulders, he stepped back, holding on to her hands to guide them both to the sofa. He sat, and let her fall softly on top of him, their lips still connected in a wild dance that made him hard and needy.
She broke the kiss, her lips wet and puffy, her hair in wild disarray. His cock twitched at the way she looked at him, her eyes targeted on his. She pulled off his tie and discarded it on the back of the sofa, then went for the buttons of his shirt, taking her time with each button until he was forced to clench his jaw. She had straddled his lap, her hot pussy in contact with his erection.
She knew it, too, and rocked against him as she undid the buttons, taking glances at his face every time she undid a button.
"You trying to torture me?" he asked.
"I'm torturing us both." Finished with the buttons, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, pulling at the sleeves until the shirt was gone. Then she went for his belt. At least she was starting to pick up the pace. He was afraid he'd grind his teeth down to the pulp if she didn't hurry up. Once his belt was undone, she released the button
on his pants, then reached for the zipper, sliding down his legs so she could pull the zipper down. Her knuckles stroked his shaft as she drew the zipper open, and he groaned. Greta's gaze snapped to his and her lips lifted in a smile.
He reached for her hips and gently raised her to a standing position so he could drop his pants, then his boxers.
She stared at him, from his legs to his cock to his abs to his chest and finally back up at his face.
"You're magnificent," she said in a whisper.
"And you're still dressed."
She grinned. "I can fix that." She turned around. "With your help."
"Gladly." He drew her hair to the side, unable to resist planting a kiss at the nape of her neck. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo, something sweet and floral.
She shivered.
He drew the zipper of her dress down, and she pulled it off and let it drop to her feet, leaving her wearing only tiny black panties.
She turned slowly, and he sucked in a breath at how beautiful she was.
Not model thin or gym sculpted like so many of the women he dated. This woman was real, with full breasts, full hips, and fit from working for a living.
She cocked her head to the side. "I've had two children, Mitch. Be kind."
"I think you're gorgeous." He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her against him for a kiss, letting her know with his mouth and his tongue how very attractive he thought she was. She sighed against him, then whimpered when his erection slid between her legs to tease her panty-clad pussy.
The scent of her arousal filled the air around them, a heady scent that drove him to near insanity. He had to taste her, to touch her, to get her spread-eagled on his bed and show her that she could be pleasured without being hurt. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the living room and down the hall into his bedroom, leaving the light off. The drapes were open, the moon casting plenty of light on the room. He deposited her on the bed and went to the doors, opening them to let a breeze in, then came back to her.
"Scoot to this edge of the bed, babe."
She did, without hesitation, showing her trust. He liked that. He reached for her panties and she lifted her hips, allowing him to slide them down her legs and off.
Bare, she was beautiful, a tuft of curls covering the top of her sex. Otherwise, her clit and pussy lips were full and plump and glistening with the sweet cream he intended to lick from her. His balls tightened at the thought of everything he wanted to do with her tonight. It was the patience that was going to be difficult, especially when she leaned back on her elbows and stared up at him with a half smile, expectation and fear spread across her features.