Shuddering, the scent of sandalwood and sex rising to his nostrils, he gentled his embrace, slowly letting her down inch by inch. He pulled her into his arms, stroking her back, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. God, why did he feel whole when he held her? Made love to her?
"Now, that's the way I like my coffee," she finally said.
He laughed, looking down into her beautiful face. "It's a good thing I have a weakness for brats. What time do you have to go in today?"
"I need to prep and do a bunch of paperwork. Around nine. What about you?"
His phone beeped as if in answer. He grabbed it from the table and read the text. "Have to head to the office, then work on the deck. Listen, Morgan wants you to come to dinner tomorrow night. And so do I."
She hesitated, her gaze jerking away. He pushed down the sliver of pain, sensing she didn't want to be with his family. Usually he was the one dodging offers of parental dinners and sibling meet-ups. He didn't like the uncertainty and hope twisting inside him. "I'm not sure I can make it."
Dalton turned his back on her. Damn, it hurt. Maybe she just wanted him for sex. "I understand. I don't want to push. I know you may not feel the same way I do, so-"
"Dalton, I want to go." She grabbed his arm and made him face her. Misery etched the features on her face. "I just-I just need to talk to you about a few things. Important things."
He sensed the breakup speech hovering in the air. For the very first time in his life, he gave in to panic. "No, you're right, we should talk. I want to talk. But I have to get going, and I'd like to continue this later."
She chewed on her lip, seemingly hesitant about his quick escape. "Okay. Tonight?"
"Yes, tonight. Will you think about coming to dinner, though? Morgan's been worried about you since the break-in, and she considers you a friend."
"Okay," she said again. "I'll come to dinner. But we'll talk tonight?"
"Absolutely." In record time, he threw on his shirt and shoes, took one last sip of coffee, and kissed her. "I'll call you later."
He headed out the door, running away from the shattering truth: the woman he was falling in love with just wasn't in love with him.
Raven watched him flee out the front door and slumped into a kitchen chair.
What was she going to do?
He'd wrung orgasm after orgasm from her body last night. She'd cried his name in the dark hours, but it had become so much more than physical. Her heart sang in ecstasy, and a deep peace seeped into her blood when he held her. It was as if every dark road she'd explored, every journey she'd embarked on in an effort to erase the pain of her loss had finally led her to the answer she sought.
Dalton Pierce.
She sipped her coffee, still reeling from his confession. Diane Pierce didn't seem like a selfish woman who had wanted to hurt her father. Unless Dalton was blind to the true characteristics of his mother. Would Raven be betraying her father's memory by falling in love with Dalton Pierce?
Tears stung her eyes. She looked over at the covered paintings and envisioned her father sitting with his art brushes, looking at something she couldn't see yet, a peaceful smile on his face. A conversation from long ago drifted in her memory like puffs of smoke, half-real, half-imaginary.
"Papa, I want to play."
"Not yet, Bella. I'm working now."
Frustrated at his lack of attention, she couldn't understand the other world he seemed caught in, someplace over the rainbow where she wasn't allowed to go. "But there's nothing there. What are you staring at?"
He turned to her, his dark eyes full of a creative zeal and joy he always exuded when he was around his easel. She loved art and enjoyed painting with her father, but she never experienced the drive and consistent need to create. "Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. Believe in things you may not see, but sense."
She looked hard at the white canvas, but nothing came but blankness. "I still don't see anything," she muttered. "And I don't sense anything, either."
He laughed, pulling her into his arms for a quick hug. "That's because you're not looking hard enough. If you're very quiet inside your mind, inside your heart, answers will come. You need to be brave enough to follow them, though. Others may tell you it's impossible, but if you believe in yourself, you'll get the help you need, from this world or the next."
Papa liked to talk about mystical things like angels and heaven, faith and hope. She enjoyed hearing his quiet, soothing voice, but now she just wanted to see a picture like he did. "Maybe I don't have what you do, Papa."
"You're not supposed to. I see it through art and color and pictures. You may see it a different way. There is no right or wrong way, just what makes you happy."