Page 17 of Landing Her Eagle
I brush a kiss on her shoulder. “Best day so far. There will be more even better than this. Trust me.”
She burrows more deeply under the blanket and against me. “I can’t wait.”
Okay, this was a good idea.
This is the calmest Daph has ever been watching a hockey game. If she hadn’t yelled at the refs for a bad call against the Flyers’ center, I’d think she’d fallen asleep. Gritty is dancing in the stands as the Flyers leave the ice going into the second intermission. He’s a happy…I’m not sure what he is. A deranged Muppet? But it doesn’t matter because Philly is beating Boston four to one.
Daphne stirs and turns to face me, draping one arm over my waist and reaching up to caress my cheek with her other hand. I unfold my bottom arm to embrace her fully and pull her closer to me. We both give in to the temptation and indulge in a kiss.
I don’t know how we went all those years without doing this. It’s addicting. Her lips are so soft and pliant, and I trace her lower lip with my tongue, seeking admission into her sweet mouth. Our tongues dance, and her hand moves up my back to caress my nape and play with the hair brushing the collar of my T-shirt, while mine moves lower to palm her ass and press her tighter against me. My cock stiffens, and I long to press it against her sweet warmth, but that’s too much, too fast for my girl. It would be oh so easy to keep kissing and let hormones, lust, and love, at least on my part, sweep us away. But Daphne isn’t ready for that yet, and if we got carried away tonight, it wouldn’t be fair to our relationship. I’m in this for the long haul. I can be patient. We haven’t said it yet, but I know I love Daphne, and she’s worth waiting for.
No one has ever actually died from sexual frustration, right?
I soften our kiss and pull back slightly, gazing into unfocused, lust-glazed pools of molten chocolate. Somehow Daphne has ended up on her back, and I’m half covering her with my body. It would be so easy to lower my head and pick up where we left off, but I push up off the couch. I’m tenting my sweat pants, but there’s nothing to do about it now. I back up so my cock isn’t right at eye level when she sits up. I’d love to introduce them to each other, but now is not the time.
The roar of the crowd on TV pulls my attention and gives me the excuse to turn and face the screen while I try to get my erection under control. The last period of the hockey game has started.
“Do you want to keep watching?” I ask her.
Her nimble fingers braid the hair she has pulled over her shoulder. She’s doing this to have something to focus on while deciding how to answer. I know her so well. At least, I think I do. She hunts for and finds the elastic tie I had slipped from her tresses while we kissed and uses it to secure her work.
“No,” she finally says, “I’m good. I’ll catch the highlights tomorrow if anything exciting happens. I have to get up for work anyway.”
I didn’t think about her having to work tomorrow.
“Do you have to go in? Can you call out?”
“No, I can’t call out,” she says a bit testily. “Mallory took off on Friday. I had to cover things she normally handles, so I didn’t get to do everything I needed to for my own duties. I need tomorrow to get back on track.”
I run my hand through my hair. “I’m here until next Monday, and then I have to head to Portugal and Spain. How’s your Spanish? There are so many places I want to show you. You’re going to love it.”
She shakes her head, and the tenting situation in my pants is finally resolved.
Standing and scooting past me, she ventures to the kitchen. I can see a sliver of her tummy when she reaches into the cabinet for a glass.
“Do you want some water?” she asks with a quick glance at me before her gaze skitters away. The rigid line of her shoulders reveals her feelings even though she hasn’t voiced them.
“No, I’m okay,” I say as I approach her.
She turns to face me, the kiss-dazed expression on her face gone. I miss it. Instead, her clear brown eyes look back at me. I don’t know if there is an actual sheen of tears or if it’s a trick of the lighting.
“You’re leaving?” she asks. “You’re only here for a week?”
I nod. “Yeah. Coming here was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I have assignments lined up for the next six or seven weeks until right before Christmas. I have events in Spain and Portugal for one leg and then Germany and Switzerland back-to-back for the Christmas markets. You’ll love the Christmas markets. You have a current passport, right?”
I thought I had seen all of Daphne Foster’s expressions, but this mixture of sadness, disappointment, and anger combined is something I never expected to see on her beautiful face.
“You’re here for a week on a spur-of-the-moment whim and think I can drop everything to go off with you when you leave? Logan, I have a job. I have responsibilities. I can’t wake up and decide to go off on a lark because you drop in, ask me to be yours, then say ‘Hey, let’s go to Portugal!’Mylife doesn’t work like that. I don't know what made you think I’d go for it.”
She takes a deep breath. Okay, that sheen isn’t from the lighting. It’s tears. Now the question is, are they sad tears or angry tears? I guess they could be both? We’ve never fought before, and I’m not sure we’re fighting now, but whatever this is, it’s the closest to fighting we’ve ever gotten. And if I don’t figure out what to say, we’ll be fighting for sure. Even my bird brain knows that saying her job doesn’t need her isn’t the right way to go. She hates her job. If they called her tomorrow and said they closed her department and no longer needed her, I bet she’d be thrilled.
Hmm…would Dad and Uncle Will go along with that? Who am I kidding? She’d freak out about not having a job, especially if it was a sudden thing.
Okay, think, Morris. You can do this.
Daphne’s pacing, restless. She throws her hands up in the air. “Up and follow you across the world? I can’t do that. I want to be with you. I care about you. But I need to work, Logan. Yeah, I have my trust fund, but that can’t be the only income that supports us. We’ll have to have a home, raise a family, pay for college educations, and fund a retirement. Plus, I need todosomething. I can’t just be stagnant.”
“You’re right, Daphne. It’s not fair for me to spring this on you and think you’ll just jump in my arms, ready to run away with me. Let’s sit and figure this out.” I reach out for her hand, and she doesn’t pull away. That’s a good sign, right?
