Peyton pulled her mouth free. “My heart’s racing. I can’t catch my breath.”
“I know the feeling.” Darius pressed his face into the curve of her neck. He inhaled her scent and felt a tightening in his groin.
He kissed her neck, nibbling her skin. Darius traced his tongue along the shell of her ear. Peyton moaned. Her hips pressed into his. She claimed his lips again.
Darius tightened his embrace around her and drew her with him to the sofa. He walked backward, relying on memory to lead him where he wanted to go. The sofa came up against his legs. Darius fell onto it, taking Peyton with him. She gasped and he deepened their kiss.
Darius pressed his tongue inside her, groaning when she stretched out to meet him. He stroked her, caressed her, wrapped himself around her. His blood grew hotter and hotter as she responded to the ways he wanted to touch her.
Peyton lifted her head. “Darius.” His name was a gasp on her lips. Her breasts burned into his chest.
“Yes?” His hands slipped under her sweater and moved up her back. Her skin was soft, smooth, warm. Arousing.
“I can’t think.” Her body moved against his.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to.” Darius reached around to cup the side of her breast. The sensation was pleasure, pain.
“But I need to.” Peyton struggled into a sitting position.
Darius let his hand drop. He sat beside her. “What do you need to think about?”
“Th
is.” Peyton’s voice was tight. She waved a shaky hand. “I’m not ready. I thought I was.” Her breath was light and fast. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Darius’s body pulsed with unanswered desire. He clenched, then unclenched his teeth. “I didn’t mean to push you.”
“You didn’t.” Peyton’s response was fast and firm.
“Just give me a minute.” Darius was silent for several long moments, waiting for his heated muscles to cool. His body wanted to join with hers but his soul knew he needed to leave. Finally, he stood. Darius put on his coat, then turned for one last look at the little professor. “Good night, Peyton. Sleep well.”
“You too.” Peyton’s voice was soft.
He again waited for her to lock her door before he started for the parking lot.
Darius had never felt so much so fast. But it was more than a strong physical attraction to Peyton. She made him feel more than anyone else ever had. Maybe this Tin Man really did have a heart.
CHAPTER 13
This was the worst Thanksgiving Darius had ever had. How was that possible? He and his mother were the only two people in the dining room of his family’s house Thursday afternoon. Then why did it feel so crowded? The beige walls were closing in on him.
From her seat at the head of the walnut dining table, Ethel gave the impression of serenity, but there were telltale signs of tension: tight jaw, thinned lips, and narrowed eyes. She’d barely said ten words since he’d arrived. Was she giving him the silent treatment because he’d asked to have Thanksgiving lunch with her so he could see Simon later this afternoon? These holiday dinners were miserable enough when he’d had to spend it with Ethel and Simon together. Sharing a meal with each of them separately on the same day was an experience Darius was anxious to put behind him.
The silence dragged on. Darius had to say something before it drove him crazy.
“The turkey tastes good.” He sawed another slice from the chunk of meat Ethel had tossed him.
“Thanks.” Ethel allowed the conversation to lapse again.
Yes, she was definitely punishing him for having the early meal with her. But if he’d seen his father first, she’d have punished him for that.
Uncomfortable silences hadn’t been as uncomfortable when there’d been the three of them. What made this worse was that he couldn’t escape into his own mind. It would be too obvious.
Darius put down his knife and fork. Enough was enough. He couldn’t continue this way. “Mom, why did you invite me to share Thanksgiving with you if you’re not going to speak with me?”
Ethel forked up more stuffing. “I’m speaking.”
“Two-word responses to my questions don’t qualify as holding up your end of a conversation.”