Текст книги "Sinful Longing"
Автор книги: Lauren Blakely
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The phone rang, and rang, and rang.
But then, if he were her, he probably wouldn’t answer either. Tossing the phone onto the counter, he grabbed his cup of coffee and downed a hearty gulp.
Honestly, he shouldn’t even have called her so early. He should let her sleep. She’d probably been up celebrating last night, anyway. He’d looked up the results online and pumped a fist in victory over her team’s win. He was proud of her and sad that he’d missed it.
Sadder still over the notes he’d sent.
He leaned back against the steel fridge and closed his eyes. What had he been thinking? But that was the problem—he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been feeling and letting all those stirred-up, messed-up, mixed-up emotions from meeting his long-lost brother rule over him.
He’d simply reacted. Matchstick fast, like he did in sports. When he went bungee jumping, he didn’t let himself think. You don’t give yourself any space to contemplate the decision. You just jump and free-fall. Same as snowboarding the black diamond back trails—just push off and attack the moguls with ruthless speed.
That kind of split-second fearlessness came in handy in his pursuit of adventure sports. But it could be the death knell for a budding relationship.
“Shit,” he said, cursing at himself as he drank more of the caffeinated brew, then set the nearly drained mug on the counter. He’d already logged some time on the lake this morning, on top of last night’s epic two-hour row club workout. The bookends to his midnight and dawn had worked—they’d kept him on the straight and narrow. He’d been tempted last night—the pull of the one sure way to wash away his woes had been potent. But he’d stayed strong, so at least he had that victory.
Now all he wanted was to see Elle and make sense of what had gone down. But it was too early, so he grabbed his keys and sunglasses, left his house, and headed to visit the two people he knew would be up at this hour on a weekend—his dad’s two best friends, Sanders and Donald. That was the cool thing about older dudes. They could be counted on to be wide-awake at dawn.
He drove over to the Golden Nugget and found them where they always were on a Saturday morning. Sanders usually joined Donald at his table for a few final rounds with his favorite dealer before Donald’s overnight shift ended. They’d cap that off with eggs and bacon, then meet their wives for coffee.
Donald dealt cards at the Golden Nugget and had for years, and Sanders was a mechanic at the limo company where Colin’s dad had worked. Colin had known them growing up, before and after his dad’s death. Sanders was a salt-and-pepper haired fellow with a bad back from working on cars his whole life, while Donald was a balding, skinny guy with an ever-present glint in his eyes that seemed to draw crowds to his tables whenever he worked.
At this hour on a Saturday, Sanders was the only one at Donald’s table, so Colin caught them up on the latest news from the detective about the drug dealing, as well as yesterday’s shocker.
“Is that not the craziest thing you’ve heard?” Colin said, as he finished the story and perused his cards.
Donald blew out a long stream of air, capping it with a low whistle. “If it’s not the craziest, it’s damn close. She was a real piece of work, that woman.”
Colin huffed. “Yeah, that’s for sure. Did my dad even know about the stuff she was up to?”
Sanders shook his head. “Hell no,” he said emphatically. “He knew she was getting into some bad shit and running into trouble with money. But being pregnant? No way. He’d have told us for sure.”
“He would?”
Sanders nodded as he studied his cards, exchanging one for a new card. “We were all pretty up front with each other. He told us some of what was going on at work. Like when there was some trouble at the company for a spell and he was trying to make heads and tails of it. Told us, too, what was happening at home with Dora and the fights they had about money, then stuff about you guys. Teaching Mike to drive and Shan to play pool. Hell, we all heard the story of that hickey you got,” he said with a wink, darting out his index finger to tap Colin’s neck as if he were twelve again.
Colin lifted his palm as if he were in a court taking an oath. “I solemnly swear it was an accidental scratch.”
Donald nodded and adopted a too-serious look. “Yeah, that sixth-grader at your school dance had some sharp nails.”
Colin chuckled, remembering when he’d made up that elaborate tale to avoid saying a girl had given him a hickey at a middle school dance. He’d been twelve and wildly embarrassed by the black and blue amoeba-shaped mark on his neck, so he’d concocted a crazy fable when his father had picked him up. His dad saw straight through it and teased him about it. Evidently his dad had told his best buddies, too. That warmed his heart.
He returned to less amusing topics. “What about the cheating, though? Did my dad know about Luke?”
“He was suspicious,” Donald said as he doled out two more cards to Colin.
Colin arched an eyebrow. “He knew she was fooling around?”
“He didn’t have any evidence, but a man just knows these things,” Donald said, setting down the deck and parking his hands on the green felt of the table. “He could tell from her behavior. That’s what he told us—that she’d been spending more time out of the house. More time unaccounted for. But you know, it was different back then. People didn’t have cell phones and email, and didn’t walk around with cameras, snapping pics of people having affairs. It was way easier for her to get away with it.”
Colin’s gut churned, and his shoulders tensed with simmering hate. He detested everything his mom had done to his dad. Every single thing. “Did he care? Was he bothered? Was he in love with her still?”
Sanders tipped his chin at Donald. “What do you think, Don? Did Thomas still love Dora?”
Donald ran his hand over his smooth head. “Ah, hell. How can I answer that? We weren’t fond of your mom, kid. We didn’t like her way before any of the real shit went down, because she was fucking around on him. So I don’t want my dislike for her to cloud the answer. But I think he cared for her. And more than anything, he cared about you kids. You were the center of his world. The four of you—man, that’s what he loved most. Being your dad. He was as good to Dora as anyone could be to a woman like that, and he cared about her because she was the mother of his children. He showed her respect. Because he loved you and your brothers and sister.”
As Donald picked up the deck, Colin stared distantly at the sparse morning sprinkling of gamblers at slots and tables, blinking away the tears that threatened to well up. His father had been gone so long, and most days he honestly didn’t think about him that much. Not for lack of love, but because time has a way of soothing the pain. The years made the hurt of missing him recede into the horizon.
But the time that passed would never take away the good things his father had passed on to him—love, respect, and truth. Colin might have spiraled after his dad’s death, but he’d picked himself up since then. He’d apologized for his mistakes. He’d become a better man—the man his father had taught him to be.
That man needed to see one woman now.
* * *
The blanket fell to the floor.
Elle rustled herself from the couch, sitting up straight as she yawned. The light shone brightly through her living room window. She glanced around, getting her bearings, then she spotted a note on the coffee table. From her mom, it was written on a yellow piece of stationery with a cartoonish fox in the corner. “Hey sweetie, I picked up Alex this morning. You were sound asleep. I’ll take him for the day. Get your rest, my love.”
She grabbed her phone to check the time. It was after nine. She’d been conked out since before midnight. Those pills must have worked brilliantly. She hadn’t even heard anyone leave. She never slept this long. She wiggled her thumb gingerly, and it didn’t hurt anymore.
She wished she could say the same about her heart. She’d need super-duper strength pills to numb the sting of the barrage of notes from Colin. He felt so deceived by her. She understood why, and she’d tried to prepare herself for this moment, but there was no true way to be ready for a reaction to something that huge.
She’d just have to take her lumps like a big girl and move on from him. He clearly wanted nothing to do with her.
As she placed her phone on the table, a memory boomeranged front and center. An odd Facebook comment from last night. Something strangely…menacing. She clicked on her app and scanned the post on the team’s wall. But whatever she’d been remembering was now gone. The post only included comments from her derby teammates, fans, and friends.
Weird. She shrugged, figuring the pain pill had made her a little loopy.
She padded to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and took a quick shower. When she was through, she pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, headed to the kitchen, and punched in the 90s channel on her satellite radio. She hummed along to a Pearl Jam tune as she hunted for eggs and bread in the fridge.
The music was interrupted by a knock on the door.
With one hand gripping the open fridge door, she made a wish. She couldn’t help it. She hoped against hope that it would be Colin. A foolish, ridiculous wish.
After all his notes, there was no way he’d be here this morning. She’d need to rid him from her mind. After breakfast, she’d tackle the Forget Colin project.
She headed to the front door, peered through the peephole, and squeaked when she saw that dark hair, that sandpaper stubble, and those yummy lips. That man.
She burst into a grin.
Wait.
Prickles of worry tripped across her skin. What if he was still pissed? What if he’d come here to tell her he never wanted to see her again? And what the hell? Had that dumb pill made her forget that he’d been kind of mean to her?
She inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her chest, and gathered her strength. Whether he was mad or not, whether she was hurt or not, she needed to say her piece. She opened the door, ready to finally explain that she’d been bound by her ethics not to say a word.
He was faster. He locked eyes with her. “Hey, so I’m an asshole, and I’m so fucking sorry.”
The grin returned to her face, and she shook her head. “No, you’re not,” she said quickly, needing to reassure him. “Not at all. But do you want to come in?”
He nodded and walked inside. She shut the door behind him, and they stood in her tiny entryway. He wore cargo shorts and a blue T-shirt that revealed his strong biceps without being showy. A part of her wanted to run her hands along his arms, but that was not what this visit was about. There were things to be said. So many things. And though she was happy to see him, her heart still hurt from his messages, and from the weight of the secrets she’d had to keep.
“Colin,” she said, starting with her own mea culpa. “You have to know how sorry I am. If there were a way I could have told you, I would have. I desperately wanted to. It was so hard for me not to say anything. I hated keeping it from you. But I couldn’t do that to Marcus.”
“I know. I swear, I know,” he said, relief and frustration in his voice as he dragged one hand through his hair. “And I should have known better. I was so blindsided, and then a million times more shocked to learn you had been helping him. But instead of sitting down and talking to you to try to understand the situation, I just lashed out.” He stopped to take a quiet breath. “And that’s not the kind of person I want to be. My ex did that to me, and I don’t want to be that guy. That guy who sends those messages.”
“Then don’t be that guy,” she said matter-of-factly. She understood that he’d been knocked to his knees by news he couldn’t have prepared for, but she also wasn’t going to be on the receiving end of his anger. “Be the guy who gives me a chance to explain and work it out. And be the guy who treats me with respect even if you’re upset.”
“I will. I promise I will,” he said, his voice a plea for forgiveness. “That’s not how I want to treat you. I was just so stunned by everything that I stopped thinking.” He rocked lightly on his heels as Eddie Vedder sang on the stereo in the kitchen. “It was all so out of the blue. There I was, talking to Ryan about how he’s planning to propose to Sophie—”
A full dose of glee raced through her veins. “He’s going to propose?”
He smiled. “See? There I go again, just saying what’s on my mind. Don’t tell her, okay?”
She rubbed her hands together. “Ooh. Another secret. But this one is the good kind to keep.”
“So he’s telling me about the trip, and his plans, and his dog is jumping in the car, and, Elle…” He stopped to look her in the eyes, letting the enormity of the moment register. “My fucking half-brother appears, takes off a cape, and says ‘Ta da!’ It was beyond surreal. And he talked for a long time, and then he told me you’d been advising him. And boom.” He smashed one palm against the other. “It was like hitting a wall. I just didn’t know what to think, and I snapped back. I was too honest. Too direct. I should have filtered myself and taken some time to process this news. Instead, I processed it with you. Over a text message. And I just typed everything that came to mind, rather than talk to you.” He downshifted to a gentler tone, meeting her eyes and doing what she’d asked. “So talk to me.”
At last, she was free of the burden of the secret. “I just want you to try to understand that I didn’t want to keep this secret from you. But he asked for my confidence before he told me he was your brother, and I was torn apart knowing that. But it would have been so wrong for me to tell you.” She reached for him, running her fingers gently across the tanned skin of his arm, wanting contact.
“Wrong? Elle, that’s not what I—” Then he stopped and gestured to her thumb with the splint on it. “What happened?”
She shrugged it off. “Nothing. I crashed during the match.”
He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips and brushed a kiss onto the small splint. Her heart fluttered. Maybe this wasn’t the end of them.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Everyone is making a big deal of it. It was just a dislocated thumb, and evidently it’s relocated now,” she said with a small smirk as she wiggled her thumb. “It’s not like I broke a tibia crashing off a sheer rock wall or something. But it did hurt like hell yesterday. They even gave me some pain meds.” She gestured to the bottle on the coffee table. He followed her gaze, and she wondered if he was tempted. Perhaps she should have tucked them away. But then, as she searched his eyes looking for a sign of longing, she was glad to find none.
“Did they help you?” he asked, his tone one of concern for her.
She nodded. “I feel much better.”
“Can I still hold your hand, though?” he asked, lifting his hand to hers then gently sliding his fingers through, lacing them together. Her heart danced a crazy jig. So much for that momentary panic. Now, the organ in her chest was engaged in a full-blown tango of joy.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He stepped closer, tenderly clasping her hand. “I’m sorry I said all those things. I didn’t mean it when I said I don’t know how I feel about you. Maybe for a few seconds, or a few minutes, I didn’t know which way was up or down. But then when I thought about it, I knew exactly how I felt about you.”
“And how do you feel?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
This was the real risk. Close your eyes, step off the cliff. No clue if there’s anything to break the fall, but do it anyway.
“How I feel is this.” He took a breath before he spoke. “That I wish I’d been there yesterday to help you up when you crashed,” he said, wrapping his other hand around her trim waist. She fit so well in his arms. “That I should have gone and talked to you. That I wanted to spend the afternoon with you and your son.”
Her heart tripped when he mentioned Alex.
He continued, “And I know I need to make it up to him that I didn’t show up, as much as I need to make it up to you. Because the two of you are a package deal. You matter so much to me, and I want to do right by your kid.”
“You will do right by him. You already are,” she said, her voice breaking as she inched closer, melting into him.
“I want so much more than what it’s been. I can’t pretend I just want this,” he said, raking his eyes over her from head to toe. “I do want your body. I do want to have you all night long. But I want the rest of you, too.” He let go of her waist and placed his palm on her chest, above her breasts. Such a temptation, but he was stronger than it. He was guided by the truth of his feelings for her, and the depth of them, too. “I’m falling for you.”
Instantly she grasped his hand, tugging it even closer to her chest. “I’m falling for you, too, Colin. I was going to tell you the other night at your house,” she said, words tumbling free in a mad rush. “I don’t want these lines between us anymore. I want to see what we can become. I told Alex that I’m dating you, and I want to have you in my life as more than just the man I sneak away to see.”
He nuzzled her neck, layering kisses on her skin, his heart beating hard and fast. “I want that so much, Elle. I want all of you.”
“You can have all of me,” she whispered then pressed her lips to his ear, making him shudder and turning him on. “Preferably now.”
Colin needed no more invitation than that. Scooping her up, he carried her through the living room and down the hall, finding her bedroom easily. He’d never been inside her house before, and if he didn’t have only one thing on his mind, he might have taken the time to notice fully the pictures on her wall, or the blinds in her bedroom, or maybe even the various shades in the sea of pillows on her bed. But nope. He was zeroed in on a mission—get as close as possible to her.
In seconds he’d stripped her down to next to nothing, tossing her shorts and tank on the floor. She scooted back on her bed, wearing only a pair of pink cotton panties and her tattoos.
She froze and held up her index finger. “Wait.”
He raised an eyebrow in a question.
“Close your eyes,” she told him.
He shrugged happily, figuring whatever was coming next would be worth the surprise. A drawer opened behind him with a squeak, then he counted the seconds as she moved around. Nineteen long ones later, the mattress dipped lightly and she told him to open his eyes.
Holy fucking fantasy.
The socks.
The roller skating socks. They were white with purple stripes at the knees, and they were so fucking hot. His dick was operating at a ninety-degree angle now.
“You are going to get fucked so good right now. In so many ways,” he growled as he crawled up on the bed, running his hands up her legs, from the socks to her knees, to those gorgeous thighs, which led to his favorite place in the universe. He kneeled over her, bending his face to her center. Kissing her belly. Her hips. Inhaling her. Fuck, her scent drove him wild. He pressed his lips roughly against the waistband of her panties, then tugged at them with his teeth.
She laughed lightly, but her laughter was swallowed up as he yanked them to her knees, and her hips shot up.
“Colin,” she whispered, surprise in her tone. But excitement, too, judging from the sexy little murmur she made.
Once he had the underwear to her ankles, he tugged them off.
“Just like I’ve always wanted,” he said, meeting her eyes. Hers were full of lust—a lust that matched his. “You in just these.”
“That’s what I like—being your fantasy.”
“Fulfilling my fantasy,” he corrected, then he wrapped his hands around each sock-covered ankle and lifted up her knees. “Fuck,” he said, in utter appreciation of the sight in front of him. “Just look at how fucking hot you are. I can barely take it. You’re killing me with hotness,” he said as he stared at her pussy. The absolutely divine, fucking gorgeous pussy that he wanted to worship. He loved the taste of her, the feel of her, and the heat of her. He loved traveling the path of her body back to that treasure. His cock throbbed insistently against his shorts as he nibbled his way up her legs. Bit the back of her knee above the socks. Kissed the inside of her thigh. Nipped that enticing, tantalizing spot where her legs curved into her slick folds. He ran his tongue along her wetness and she rose up, arching into him.
“My new addiction. I’m high on you,” he whispered, before he buried his face between her legs until she was panting, screaming, and writhing. She flung her hands into his hair, grabbing him and pulling him as close as he could be. He was smothered in her, and he loved it. He could spend the day camped out there. Just tasting her, and kissing her, and savoring her. Slipping a finger inside, he drew her clit into his lips and sucked hard. She squirmed and moaned loudly. Soon she was frantically fucking his finger, so he added another, then pressed his thumb against her ass.
Like. Magic.
Like a secret X that marked the spot on his woman.
It turned her into a primal creature. As he rubbed his thumb against that forbidden spot, his sweet, feisty, fiery, complicated, lovely Elle became a two-minute timer of hot, dirty desire. She’d gone from zero to sixty in mere seconds, and her noises grew wild. Her hips rocked into his mouth as she wrapped her sock-covered legs so damn tightly around his head.
He was everywhere in her. Hands, lips, tongue, fingers. Thrusting inside her. Fucking her in so many ways. Lust slammed into him from every corner of the world as his beautiful woman came undone in his mouth, her sweetness on his lips, her pleasure flooding his tongue. Her heady taste was all over him as she cried out his name like the chorus of a classic rock anthem.
After she came down from her orgasmic high, he went into the bathroom to wash his hands then returned to her. He shucked off his clothes and moved alongside her, her back to his front, yanking her alongside his erection. “I want to flip you over onto your hands and knees and fuck you on all fours with you dressed like that,” he said, his voice hot and smoky with desire. She shivered against him. “I want to bend you over the side of the bed and just take you in nothing but your knee-highs.” He pressed against her tailbone. She answered with a sexy purr. “But this poor little dislocated and relocated thumb of yours is making me think of other ways I can have you, since I can’t put you on your hands and knees like I want,” he said in her ear, in a dirty growl.
“Mmm…what other ways?”
“Where are your toys? Nightstand drawer?”
Her hazel eyes lit up as she shifted in his arms to face him. The gold flecks in them sparkled with a naughty glint. “Yes. What do you want to use on me?”
“Let’s see what my options are,” he said, then slid open the drawer. Holy shit. It was like a fiesta of sex toys. “I think they might be mating in there.”
She laughed. “One can only hope.”
The drawer was a shrine to battery-operated friendships. Elle owned everything from pearl-filled, ten-speed rabbits, to finger vibrators, to waterproof dolphin-style massagers. But in the midst of all that purple and red and silver silicone, he spotted a slender pink vibrator with a small remote attached. It wasn’t wide like the others, nor did it have the little fluttery wings for clit stimulation.
Which meant…
“Elle Mariano,” he said as he grabbed it and arched an eyebrow. “I had no idea you were so advanced in your solo play.”
She quirked her lips. “Now you know.”
“Do you like this toy?”
She shrugged, a happy, woozy look still in her eyes. “I bought it one night when I went on a Joy Delivered online shopping spree. Never used it.”
“What inspired you to buy it?” he asked, as he grabbed the lube in the drawer.
“Something I was reading,” she said sheepishly.
“Ah, something dirty?”
“But of course.”
“Butt indeed,” he said, returning to her ass and squeezing it. Moving to a cross-legged position on the bed, he offered her a hand and tugged her lithe, naked body onto his. Damn, she was sexy as fuck straddling him in that hot as sin outfit—socks and nothing else. “Climb on top, my Skater Girl.”
“Are you going to use that on me?”
“Considering how fast and hard you came with my finger in your ass, then yes, I am going to use this,” he said, as he bent his head to her neck. “Unless you don’t want me to.”
She lifted her face and cupped his cheeks. “The woman in the story loved it,” she whispered.
A bolt of lust tore through him. “You will, too.”
* * *
He reached for her wrists and looped them around his neck carefully, making sure her thumb wasn’t hurting. She didn’t feel any pain. She felt only possibility—the alluring possibility of pleasure beyond her wildest fantasies.
She’d had so many fantasies about this man.
Trying new things with him. Testing boundaries. Playing, without pushing past her comfort zone. She wasn’t sure how far she’d ever want to go in the backdoor department, but this kind of starter pleasure with the man she was hot for? She was ready.
And, oh hell, so was he. His cock was a thing of beauty—hard, hot, and heavy in her hand as she lowered herself onto him. Sensations rolled through her body. That delicious stretching. The intense depth. The way he moved. His eyes were dark, and she swore she could see all his desire written in them. His potent lust for her. She was sure two people had never wanted each other more—certain, too, that make-up sex had never been so good.
He laced his hands behind her waist, fiddling with the toy. The buzzing began, and the sound sent goose bumps across her flesh. He pressed the tip of the toy against her rear. It was better than good. It was mind-blowingly sexy. It was thrillingly dirty as it vibrated. He’d already lubed it up, so the tip slid easily inside.
“Rock into me,” he urged as she rode him, rising up and down on his dick. He pushed the toy farther into her rear, and she tensed, tightening around it. Stilling herself, she drew a breath at the twin sensations shooting through her body. Together, they were heaven. This was the opposite of how she’d felt yesterday, when pain had torn through her on the floor of the rink. This was different, too, from the Percocet. That pill had washed away the world around her, reducing it to a cool haze.
Here on her bed, straddling Colin as he shoved his cock deeper into her and played with her ass, she experienced every single wildly addictive wonderful feeling.
“So this is one of your fantasies?” he asked as he pressed a button on the remote.
She squirmed as pleasure raced through her. “Now, it is,” she said on a pant.
“Any time you want to reenact something, I’m your man.”
“You are,” she said. You are my man.
Those words echoed in her mind, and she shut her eyes, clamping her mouth closed or else she’d say more.
She’d say too much. She’d serve up all that she felt for him. That she was falling harder than she’d ever imagined. That she was crazy for him. That she couldn’t imagine how terrible she’d feel if she’d lost him.
But she hadn’t lost him. Here he was in her home. Fucking her. Taking her. Owning her. Giving her more pleasure than she’d ever experienced, more passion than she’d ever known. Exploring their potential between the sheets. In some ways, trusting him with her body was helping her trust him outside the bedroom, too.
He layered kisses on her neck as he drove into her with his cock and the toy, pleasure rippling through her from all directions. Soon, she had no notion of where or how or why she felt like this—like bliss. All she knew was that every single cell in her body was comprised of ecstasy, because he’d done it again. He’d fucked her to the edge of reason. He’d ushered her to the far reaches of erotic joy, and she was breaking apart like a rainstorm, a gorgeous, brilliant summer rainstorm, as she came with no signs of stopping. Her climax had no end in sight. It washed over her, it pulled her under, and it consumed her.
Her whole body was a fucking orgasm. There was nothing else but this endless rush of pleasure blasting through her and taking her captive.
She moaned and groaned and cried out, and she couldn’t stop because nothing had ever felt so good. “Oh God, oh my God, oh holy fucking…” And then her words became nonsense, just the echo of the intensity raging in her body.
Soon he tossed her on her back, wrapped her legs around his waist, and fucked her until his own oblivion smashed into him.
