Not Quite Forever
Page 37

Later, they were eating out of box containers sprawled over her bed. “How did you know I liked Chinese?”
“Everyone likes Chinese,” Walt said as he dug his fork into a tub of fried rice.
“It’s sinful. All the salt, the oil.”
“Which is why everyone enjoys it.” He leaned forward and licked a grain of rice off her bare breast. “Naked eating. I like.” He ran a sticky finger over her nipple and pulled a moan from her as it puckered.
“If I didn’t know better,” she said while Walt pulled away and filled his mouth with more orange chicken, “This was a thinly-veiled booty call.”
He lifted his brows and made a show out of chewing. After he swallowed, he filled his fork again. “You’re the one who answered the door in lingerie.”
“I could say that you showed up five minutes early and that I wasn’t yet dressed.”
“You could. But you’d be lying.”
She reached into his box, pulled out a chunk of chicken with her bare fingers, and popped it into her mouth.
Dakota returned the nipple favor and dipped her fingers in the sauce. She ran her fingers down his chest, low on his hips. Before she reached for his responding erection, she caught his eyes. “I’d be lying.”
The slow descent of her tongue down his chest was tangy sweet. Food sex . . . she’d written about it, had fun with whipped cream at least twice, but Chinese food?
“Holy . . .”
She hesitated at his hip, licked off the sauce she’d placed where his thigh met his torso.
“Looks like I missed a spot,” she said, finding the sauce with her lips and tracing the trail up his length.
He was sweet on her tongue, the length of him filling her mouth, which pulled a gasp from his lips. Walt’s hand caressed the side of her face as she took him. When she looked, he was watching her.
Her heart leapt, his intense stare looked through her. He guided her away and swept the boxes of food to the bedside table.
When his lips took hers, the taste of ginger and spice mixed between them, Dakota leaned back and welcomed him. Unlike how they’d made love when he first arrived, this was slow, calculated, and a little heartbreaking.
Dakota felt her heart slipping a little further into Walt’s world. A dangerous one . . . one filled with crazy hours and the need to be single. Only as he called her name and plunged into her more times than she could count, Dakota couldn’t picture him without her by his side. More, she was having a hard time seeing her world without him.
Her release was like a slow, spreading fire that started at her toes and burned through her center.
He collapsed on top of her, his breath just as rapid as hers.
“Chinese food will never look the same.”
She laughed, felt him slip from her as his own mirth caught in his chest.
The bed was empty when his eyes opened. Dakota’s side of the bed was cool and it was still dark outside.
Walt found his boxers and pulled them on when he left her room.
He found her in her library office with a dim light and her radio playing from her computer on a low volume. She was laughing, and typing faster than anyone he’d ever seen. “You’re such a bitch. Love it.” Dakota kept typing, stopped long enough to reach for a water bottle on her desk, sip it, and then returned her fingers to the keyboard. He’d never seen her work and wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Typing, yeah, but excitement as the thoughts streamed from her head and onto the page . . . no, he hadn’t expected that. Somehow he thought she’d type in silence, all focus on the page . . . then again, she was animated in every other aspect of her life. He shouldn’t be surprised, yet he still was.
She finished whatever thought she had on her mind and leaned back.
That’s when she noticed him.
“Oh . . . did I wake you?”
“No. I think it might have been the rice.”
She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Her eyes traveled to the clock on the wall and that’s when Walt noticed the time. Three in the morning. “I’m not sure if you’re the earliest riser ever, or if it’s a late night.”
“I woke about an hour ago and couldn’t go back to sleep. Then I had this brilliant idea.”
He moved closer to her desk, looked at the bright screen. “Can I read it?”
Dakota grabbed the mouse and clicked her word program to the sidebar. “Not until it’s done.”
He laughed. “So that’s how it is?”
“Yep. This is raw, sloppy. You can read it when it’s polished.”
Walt pulled his fingers through her dark hair and combed it behind her back.
She tilted her head back and closed her eyes.
“Come back to bed?”
He didn’t have to coax. Whatever thought she’d had must have been hammered out in the hour she was typing away. After tucking her in his arm, he heard her breathing even out as she fell back to sleep.
It was his turn to lie awake and watch the shadows on the wall. He’d missed this. A hookup, an occasional lover didn’t often result in overnight stays and weekends. Dakota was different. If Walt was honest with himself, that scared him. Her no-nonsense approach to life, her humor, her independence. Her ability to make Chinese takeout erotic . . . good Lord, he hadn’t expected that. His eyes drifted close and his mind started to clear. He smiled, on the inside, in a place that hadn’t felt this good in years.
Mary huddled over her coffee, her eyes wide open and ready for gossip. “I’ve seen his car here twice this week, and you were gone at least once.”