Page 85 of Summer Heat
“Why did you come back, Rosalia?”
Rosalia. His stern tone sent shivers down her spine. “I got a job here.”
“And that’s why you’re here. In Dearling.” His voice was flat, plain statements of fact instead of questions. Because he already knew the truth. And he wouldn’t let her get away without knowing it too.
“I’m here for you.” The words came out on a breath, more cool air than sound.
“I’m your friend. That’s why.”
Her throat grew tight. “You are my friend.”
His eyes softened. “Oh, Lia. Why didn’t you tell me when you got the job? When you applied for the job?”
“Maybe because I wanted to do something without you and Chris helping me.”
“We didn’t do a damn thing except hang around you, and that was a favor you gave us, Lia. Every single thing you accomplished, you did on your own. And if I made even one second of your day easier, then I’m grateful.”
She blinked.
Remorse flickered across his expression. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, th
at’s all.”
And she didn’t feel worthy.
He stepped forward, his eyes solemn and dark. “I was an idiot for waiting that long to tell how I felt about you. But I was also an idiot for walking away. I’d be your friend, if that’s all you wanted.”
Oh no. Just friends? There was a huge freaking difference between friends and lovers, and she’d never be satisfied with the former. She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, reaching up his back. His muscles flexed under her touch, and she felt a rumble of pleasure through his chest. God, this was delicious. Every move she made was answered by his body, every touch reflected in his.
His voice went husky. “Guess not, then.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Always friends, Ethan. And more.”
She worked her way down his body to show him just how much more. She showed him with her hands on the zipper of his uniform, with her lips against the hot shaft in her palm. She showed him with her tongue, mixing the sweetness of berries with salty precum. He groaned above her, shuddering and swearing until he dragged her to the bed, practically tripping on his clothes, almost tearing hers off.
Then he was inside her, then he was home.
And so was she.
She managed not to scream only by biting his shoulder, and he jerked and groaned his release in reply.
Snow came down that night, pale flecks through the night air. They watched through the window, warm from the fire and the company and the heat of their bodies.
It was the middle of the night before either could be moved to get food. Lia dug through the paper bags and found enough to feed them for several days before they’d have to dip into the pantry. There was a whole tub of mashed potatoes and a box of yeasty biscuits. There were hamburger steaks topped with grilled onions and gravy.
And she, she herself, carved the roast beast.
* * *
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An heiress without a cause.
Two billionaires determined to claim her.
