Текст книги "Imperfect"

Автор книги: Cherry Shephard

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

 

She’s actually letting me do this.

A part of me can’t believe it’s happening, but another part of me is screaming not to stop. I finally have my hands once again on the delectable Shannon Harper, and this time we’re both sober. I’m so fucking nervous. If I had beer, I could… No, I tell myself firmly. This is something that needs to be done without the confidence of alcohol to back me up. She needs to see that I can do this. Besides, if I stop now, she may never let this happen again.

But even as I’m touching her, I know I’ll never be able to stop.

My tongue snakes out and flicks her hard nipple, and I relish the guttural cry that rips from her full lips as she bends her back, pushing her breast closer to my mouth. I’m more than happy to oblige. I close my eyes and hum as my lips close over her nipple and tug gently. Her hands move to my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin through my tank top, hard enough to draw blood.

And I fucking love it.

I’m an animal. Primal and ferocious, ready to pounce on my prey. Tonight, Shannon Harper is the gazelle and I am the lion. I don’t care if she thinks she belongs to Keets. Tonight, she’s mine.

My hand slips beneath the waistband of her shorts, and I growl when I feel the lacy edge of her panties. I don’t stop to enjoy it, though, as I tear my mouth from hers and make short work of stripping her naked, my eyes feasting on her soft, golden flesh as it’s bared to me. I part her legs gently, being careful of the injured one. I look up at her with my head between her thighs, my breath causing tiny goose bumps to rise along the sensitive skin. “Look at me,” I demand, hooking one of her legs over my shoulder, leaving the bandaged one flat on the bed. Her gaze lifts slowly to mine and, maintaining eye contact, I bend forward and trail my tongue slowly over the outer lips of her pussy.

Her breathing increases, loud in the quiet room as my tongue darts out and makes short, stabbing motions directly at her clit before drawing it into my mouth and sucking lightly. She cries out, and I slowly increase the pressure as I slip one finger deep inside her, followed by a second. Shannon makes a low, keening sound as her hips rock back and forth, guiding my mouth across her pussy. She’s so fucking wet. I love her tangy taste. I could do this forever.

My other hand moves to her nipple, twisting and plucking at it lightly as my mouth continues its assault. All too soon, she cries out, and I feel her clench around my fingers as I suck her clit once more. Hard. I’m almost sorry that she comes so quickly.

Almost.

Making short work of removing my clothes, I smile proudly as her eyes grow wide when she looks at my cock. It’s not huge, about seven inches, but it’s thick. Really thick. Not wanting to waste any time, I don’t give her a chance to change her mind. I move to grab a condom from the dresser drawer, but her hand on my forearm stills my movements. I glance down at her flushed face. “We already did it once without protection,” I murmur, leaning down to brush a kiss against her forehead. “I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”

“I’m on the pill,” she whispers breathlessly, straining against me. “Please,” she begs . . . and I’m lost. Covering her body with mine once more, I pull her leg up over my shoulder, pressing down until it’s almost touching her chest. She’s wide open, wet and ready. I watch her eyes change color and darken as the thick head of my cock presses against her entrance, slowly pushing inside. She’s so fucking tight, I have to grit my teeth and close my eyes to stop from coming too soon. I ease in, inch by delicious inch, until I’m fully inside her. Pausing, I rest my head against her knee as I gasp for air, desperately trying to catch my breath. When I think she’s ready, I begin to move slowly, but Shannon wants none of that. Her hands move restlessly down my back, her nails digging almost painfully into the flesh of my ass, pulling me in deeper, moving me faster.

I growl and sit up straight. She wants hard? I’ll fucking give her hard.

Her eyes almost bulge out of her head as I thrust in and out of her. My balls slap against her ass and I reach down and gently grab her clit between my thumb and index finger, squeezing lightly as I roll it around. She cries out and tries to push my hand away, but I’m a man possessed. I can feel my balls tightening as my cock thickens even more. She feels it, too. Her hand drops, no longer trying to push me away as I continue rubbing her clit. She’s so fucking close, I can feel her pulse around me as she grips the sheets beneath her in her fists. Her eyes are squeezed tight as I feel the first ripple rush through her, pulling me in deeper.

“Open your eyes,” I command, not slowing down as her eyes shoot open. This is what I want, what I need. “Look at me when you come, babe.” My voice is raspy and breathless as I continue thrusting. “I need you to know that it’s me fucking you, no one else.”

She cries out again, but her eyes remain open as she grips and releases my cock tightly. I grit my teeth as I thrust a few more times, and a roar comes from my chest as I come harder than I ever have before. It’s as though fourteen years of pent-up anger and frustration has just been released from my balls, leaving me exhausted but satisfied.

But still wanting her.

I gently lower her leg and collapse on the bed next to her, breathing hard. Her hand gently caresses my sweaty back, and I turn my head to look at her. She’s smiling. That’s a good sign. “Are you okay?” I ask, leaning up and brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead.

“Yeah,” she says in a quiet voice, still rubbing my back lightly. Her skin is flushed a delicate shade of pink, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from licking her from head to toe. Since when was a sweaty woman so damn sexy? Since that sweaty woman is Shannon Harper.

I sit up and pull on a pair of shorts from the floor.

She sits up, too, tucking the sheet around her modestly. I want to rip it away, and I clench my hands into fists by my sides to keep from doing so.

“Have you eaten?” she asks, searching my face. As if on cue, my stomach rumbles and I laugh.

“No,” I reply, still smiling. It feels fucking good to smile.

“Well,” she says, smiling back. “If you grab me the wheelchair from outside, I’ll fix us some dinner.”

“Nope,” I tell her firmly, shaking my head as I lean forward and kiss her forehead. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”

“What?” She leans back, looking at me quizzically.

I nod in affirmation. “I need to eat, you need to eat. It makes perfect sense. Besides,” I continue, standing up and grabbing the crutches from where they lean against the wall. “I want the whole town to see me with a beautiful woman by my side.”

She flushes and ducks her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “What about Zeke?” she says, looking back up at me. “Don’t you think it’s time you include your son?”

My smile falters then fades as I shake my head sadly. “He hates me,” I say.

“He does not hate you,” Shannon cries. “He doesn’t know you well enough to hate you.”

“Shannon,” I explain patiently. “I haven’t been in his life, ever. I know it’s not my fault, but he clearly holds me responsible for that.”

“Well, he can’t stay with Ruth forever,” she tells me. “Eventually, he needs to come home.”

“And he will,” I say, ignoring the thrill that runs through me when I hear Shannon refer to my house as ‘home’. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, I promise.”

“Okay,” she gives in, slowly nodding. “Where do you want to go?”

“Let’s just go to Saddles,” I suggest. Shit. Why did she just go so pale?

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she counters, shaking her head vehemently. “Not when you’re still getting over your . . . problem.”

I hate to admit it, but she’s right. And right now, that problem is fucking with my head more than I’d care to admit. What I wouldn’t give for just one. . .

“Okay,” I relent. “Where do you want to go?”

Shannon smiles at me and all of a sudden, everything is right with the world. “I know just the place.”

 

I’m so proud of Stone I could cry.

True to his word, he’s brought me to the one place I wanted to go—the restaurant where Daddy proposed to Momma. It’s small and intimate, with tealight candles providing a romantic ambience at each table.

I pretend to study the menu, but I already know what I want to order. The chicken parmigiana and fries had always been Momma’s favorite meal, along with a white wine.

Wine is out of the question tonight, though. Out of respect for Stone, I’m sticking with a glass of lemon, lime, and bitters with lots of ice. I’m not sure what to say to him. Is this a date? He said he wanted to take me out to dinner, but he never explained what that dinner was. I tug on the edge of my short red dress beneath the table and glance across at Stone. He’s looking incredibly handsome in a black woolen suit. Who knew the man could clean up so nicely?

He senses me watching and smiles, putting down his menu. “Have you decided what you want?” he asks, signaling the waiter when I nod.

After we place our orders, we sit in awkward silence. I can’t help but wonder if he wants a beer, as he’s gazing past me toward the bar. “Are you all right?” I ask softly, touching his hand.

He jumps a little and looks at me apologetically. “I’m fine,” he answers, removing his hand and sitting back in his chair. “I guess I’m just a little distracted.”

“It’s okay to want a beer,” I say. “You’ve depended on it for so long that it’s only natural.”

He nods. “I do want a beer,” he admits with a rueful smile. “More than you know. But,” he continues, taking my hand once more, “I want to see this through more than anything.”

I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Great,” I say, swallowing a mouthful of my drink. “So, Stone, tell me all about you.”

He laughs. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” I grin. “I want to know all there is about Staff Sergeant Ethan Stone. Tell me about your time in the war.”

I regret my words almost immediately as a dark shadow crosses his features and the smile drops from his face. He shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Come on,” I cajole. “Sometimes, it’s good to let it out. I know how long you’ve held onto it, and I’ve witnessed your nightmares first-hand. Why, I’ll bet that—”

“That’s enough,” he says loudly, slamming his fist down on the table, making me jump. Several customers nearby look at us a little curiously.

“Stone,” I say in a low voice. “Was that really necessary?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Look, can we just forget about it and have a nice dinner?”

“Fine,” I snap, looking away as I pick up my glass.

“Fine,” he repeats quietly, pouring another glass of water for himself.

The waiter brings us our meals and we eat in uncomfortable silence. I glance up at him more than once, and his face is carefully stoic.

After dinner, I order two large mugs of coffee and slices of rich chocolate cake. Stone politely declines his cake and I shrug, digging into his share as well as my own. I’m just swallowing the last mouthful when I hear a voice behind me.

“Shannon?” a woman calls.

I close my eyes and groan, the chocolate cake suddenly feeling very dry in my mouth. “Hi, Effie,” I say as politely as I can when she stops next to our table.

“Miss Harper,” Harold Kensington says. “A pleasure, as always. You disappeared so quickly tonight that I’m afraid we weren’t able to continue our little discussion about Saddles.”

I cast a glance over at Stone, who’s staring at me curiously. What’s going through his mind right now? I clear my throat and dab the crumbs away from my mouth with a white napkin. “Yes.” I smile up at Kensington. “I apologize for that, but I wasn’t feeling very well.”

“I trust you’re feeling better,” Harold says magnanimously, indicating the crutches propped against the wall beside us.

“Yes,” I confirm, nodding. “The bandage will come off in just a couple of weeks.”

“Wonderful,” Effie exclaims, her large smile both fake and annoying. “And Ethan,” she continues. “You look absolutely smashing in your suit. Harold, dear, doesn’t he look lovely?”

“Quite so,” Harold agrees, barely giving Stone more than a passing glance before turning his attention back to me. “I hope you’ve reconsidered my offer.”

“I’m afraid not,” I reply slowly, picking up my glass and swallowing a mouthful. “Saddles is not for sale.”

“Well then,” he says, shaking his head. “I hope you’re able to come up with the money your daddy owes me in the next two weeks.”

I gape at him, but Stone speaks before I do. “How much does her father owe you?” he asks, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Two hundred thousand dollars,” Effie says, looking at him pointedly. “Plus interest.”

“And what if she doesn’t come up with the money?” Stone asks, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Oh, let’s not talk about such things,” Harold dismisses, offering his arm to Effie who clutches it with obvious delight. “I’ll leave you two alone to your dinner.”

I slump in my chair as they walk away to their own table. How the hell am I meant to come up with two hundred thousand dollars in the next two weeks?

Stone signals the waiter, who hurries over. “Could I get a glass of white wine?” he asks. My head shoots up and I pierce him with a narrow gaze.

“I thought you agreed not to drink.”

“It’s for you,” he says gently. “You look like you could use it.”

“I . . . oh,” I stammer, feeling myself flush. I don’t really know what to say, so I sit in silence until the waiter brings my drink, which I gulp halfway down greedily.

“Better?” Stone asks quietly when I put the glass down.

I nod. “Yes, thank you.”

“Good,” he says, looking at me thoughtfully.

He stares at me for so long I start to shift uncomfortably. “What?” I finally ask.

“You wouldn’t accept the money from me, would you?” he asks. It’s a rhetorical question.

“Of course not,” I respond proudly. “I work hard for my money, as did my—”

“As did your father,” Stone cuts in, holding up his hand. “I know.”

He continues to stare at me. Finally, he nods, as though coming to some sort of a conclusion. “Then there’s only one thing left to do,” he announces.

“What’s that?” I ask, not really liking the determination I see all over his face.

Stone offers a slow, lazy smile. I don’t like it one bit. “The way I see it, if you won’t accept the money from me, then I’ll just have to make sure you get the money another way.”

“And what way is that?”

He pauses, watching me. It’s like a scene from a play where you just know a big bombshell is about to hit and no one’s life will ever be the same. I’m not disappointed. “There’s only one way you’ll accept my money, and that’s if it’s yours.”

I give a short bark of laughter. “And how do you expect it to be mine?” I ask. He’s completely lost his mind. What the hell is he talking about?

“It’s easy,” Stone says, swallowing a mouthful of water and slowly placing the glass back on the table. “We’ll get married.”

 

Shannon’s staring at me as though I’ve grown two heads, and I may very well have. This morning I signed the divorce papers. As Grace and I had been separated for so long it was a simple process, and the standard waiting period to re-marry had been waived.

What the hell am I thinking? I don’t want to get married again. Although, I can’t deny the idea has a certain appeal.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” Shannon gasps, letting out a short laugh.

“I am.” I nod, realizing I really am. “Think about it. You need money. If we’re married, my money becomes our money. Your money.”

She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe I am,” I concede. “But can you think of any other ideas?”

“I can think of ten!”

“Let’s hear them then.” I sit back and cross my arms, looking at her expectantly.

She opens her mouth to say something then snaps it shut and looks away.

“You’ve got nothing,” I say smugly.

“I’m still thinking,” she retorts, but I can see the defeated slump of her shoulders. I push the half-empty wine glass over to her and she grabs it without looking at me, draining the last of it.

I discretely signal to the waiter for the check and take my wallet out of my jacket pocket, flicking my credit card onto the table. I focus back on Shannon, who looks much too pale. “Are you okay?” I ask quietly, touching her hand.

“Don’t touch me,” she snaps, snatching her hand back and grabbing the crutches that still lean against the wall. I try to hide my smile as she struggles to her feet.

This is no laughing matter. Not really. “Do you need a hand?” I ask, getting to my feet.

“No, I don’t need a hand,” she replies sarcastically. “I can manage just fine without you.” She stiffly hobbles out of the restaurant.

I sit there impatiently, drumming my fingers as I wait to get my credit card back. I have to catch up to her; who knows what she might try to do if I don’t? She’s so stubborn, she’d likely try to hobble home on those damn crutches.

The waiter finally returns with my card, and I don’t bother taking the time to put it back in my wallet. I shove it in the pocket of my slacks as I race out of the restaurant, dodging the tables full of couples.

I glance up and down the street, but I needn’t look far. She’s about a hundred yards down the road, her back to me. I cup my hands around my mouth. “Shannon!”

She glances over her shoulder, but doesn’t stop walking. Passing under a street light, she disappears from view.

Cursing savagely under my breath, I pull the keys from my pocket and jog to my truck, yanking the door open with one hand as I loosen my red tie with the other.

Sliding behind the wheel, I turn on the ignition, pulling out of the parking lot. I drive slowly, using the truck’s headlights to look into the darkness. I finally see her up ahead and pull up, rolling slowly along beside her. “Shannon,” I call through the open passenger window. She glances at me but doesn’t say anything. “Damnit,” I curse, putting the brakes on and jumping out. I jog around the side of the truck and stop directly in front of her. “Will you fucking listen to me?”

“What?” she yells, finally stopping. She shoots me a glare that’s cold enough to freeze Hell over.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask.

“What’s wrong?” she asks disbelievingly. “What’s wrong?” She’s yelling again.

“Shh,” I soothe, glancing at passers-by. “Would you keep it down?”

“Oh, sure.” She laughs, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “I’ll keep it down just as soon as you stop being a jackass.”

“What?” I ask, genuinely bewildered. I knew she wouldn’t like the suggestion, but this is ridiculous. I gesture to the truck. “Look, can we just go home and talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Shannon cries. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to get in that car.”

“Truck,” I correct her, wincing when she shoots another dagger-filled look at me.

“Really?” she asks sarcastically. “Really? You think this is the perfect time to make jokes?”

“It wasn’t a joke,” I say a little defensively. A Texan man is allowed to be pedantic about his vehicle of choice.

“Whatever,” she snaps.

“Look,” I start, raking a hand over my head. I’m getting frustrated now. Why the hell does she have to be so damn stubborn? “Just get in the damn truck and let me get you indoors. I promise you can yell at me all you want later, but I’m tired.”

Shannon glances from me to the truck and back again. Finally, she looks away and lets out a loud sigh. “Fine,” she says. “Let’s go.”

I expect her to yell at me all the way home, but instead I’m met with stony silence. I glance in the rearview mirror at her at least a dozen times. She’s staring out the window, an ugly scowl marring her beautiful features.

I can’t believe I suggested we get married. Didn’t I learn my lesson the last time I tried settling down? It didn’t work out so well. But the more I think about it, the more the idea begins to appeal to me. Perhaps being married to Shannon Harper wouldn’t be as bad as all that. We clearly have a lot of sexual chemistry, and our opinionated personalities would certainly keep the relationship interesting.

Relationship? Who am I kidding? If Shannon agrees to this, it’ll be a marriage in name only; she’ll make sure of that. I’ll be nothing more than a means to an end, a way to pay off her father’s debts.

I’m surprised by the disappointment that floods through me at that realization, but I quickly brush it off. I’m doing this for Shannon, to help her. I need to remember that before I lose more than just my pants.

By the time we pull up to the house, I’m a nervous wreck. I wasn’t even this nervous when I proposed to Grace fourteen years ago, but suddenly this little spitfire of a woman’s opinion of me is the most important thing in the world. And I feel like I’m fucking everything up.

I cut the engine and hop out of the truck, walking around to open the back passenger side to help Shannon to her feet. That’s when I realize why she’s been so quiet. She’s sleeping soundly, her head resting against the back seat as small tendrils of golden hair brush her face. I take a second to move the silky strands and, without much thought, I swoop her into my arms, kicking the truck door closed behind me as I walk up to the front door. Shannon stays asleep the entire time, her head lying comfortably against my chest. I try to ignore how right this feels.

Unlocking the door, I carry her through to the spare bedroom and place her gently down on top of the covers. She shivers a little in her sleep, and I drag a heavy quilt from the wardrobe and lay it across her, tucking her in. More than anything I want to shake her awake, find out what her answer is to my proposal. But she looks so damn peaceful that I can’t bring myself to do it. I stand there watching her sleep for a few minutes.

Oh, yeah, I could definitely get used to sleeping next to a woman like Shannon.

I walk back out to the living room and lock the front door, pausing as I move past the kitchen. The sudden urge for a beer overpowers me, forcing me to clench my fists until my nails dig into the soft flesh. I can’t do it. I’ve already come so far.

Satisfied by that small victory, I enter my bedroom and strip down to my boxers, leaving the suit on the floor as I slide beneath the covers. I’m surprised by how calm I feel. Normally, I’m worried about going to bed, because that’s when the screaming starts. But tonight, knowing she’s right next door gives me an inner strength that’s both encouraging and surprising.

I don’t know how to feel about it. On the one hand, I’m happy for the distraction she provides.

On the other . . . I don’t know how I’ll survive if she leaves.