Текст книги "Sinful Longing"
Автор книги: Lauren Blakely
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Soon. Please let it happen soon. Let this day end any second. She stared at the clock on her wall, willing it to tick faster.
But the tortoise speed of the second hand was either a cruel joke or a reminder that Colin was right. He was all she thought about as she finished up some paperwork about the status of the center’s programs.
And since he was all she thought about, she was hot, she was bothered, and she was horny.
Great. Just fucking great to be parked at her desk, filling in information about the poetry nights and the hot meal plan, when her skin was sizzling from that morning encounter at his office.
She pushed back from her desk, walked to the ladies’ room, and splashed cold water on her face, then dried it with a scratchy paper towel. Ugh. The damn towel was rough. She made a mental note to look into new paper towel vendors, and as she left the restroom she gave herself a virtual pat on the back for having successfully turned off the latest bout of lust.
Good thing because when she returned to her office, Marcus was rapping on her door.
Tension crashed into her, but she reminded herself of her new approach. Be two people. With Marcus, she was only Center Director Elle. The other side of her ceased to exist.
“Hey there,” she said.
“Do you have a second?”
“I do.” She guided him into her office and shut the door. “Is this about…” she asked, letting her voice trail off in question.
“Yeah. You didn’t tell him, did you?” Marcus asked, terror in his brown eyes. For a brief moment before she answered, she studied his eyes. They were dark brown, like Colin’s. Another secret she had to bear—a small one that was folded into the big one. But still, she now knew they shared a family resemblance. That gnawing in her chest resurfaced, and she tried valiantly to swat it away. She clenched her fists and refocused away from Marcus’s eyes and back to his question.
“Of course I didn’t say anything. I told you I wouldn’t, and I meant it. Now, tell me what I can do for you?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I know you wouldn’t tell him. I’m just…”
“You’re nervous,” she supplied, as she placed a hand on his shoulder. He was shaking. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Talk to me.”
“What if they don’t believe me?” he blurted out. “I’ll just be showing up out of the blue and saying ‘Hey, I’m your little brother. I was born in the pokey. We don’t even have the same dad, but isn’t it cool?’” He swung his elbows back and forth in mockery of a too-happy person. “I mean, my mom never told them. My dad never did. I don’t think they have a clue.”
“Show them your birth certificate. You have one, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I have a copy of it,” he said, his gaze drifting to his feet. “Says right there in black and white how I was born behind bars.”
“There’s no shame in where you came from. We all came from different places. My son came from an eighteen-year-old high school graduate and his father is dead from an overdose. I do not let him feel shame about any of that,” she said firmly. Marcus raised his face again. “So don’t let a few words on your birth certificate affect how you see yourself.”
“I just feel like I’m trying to hit them up with proof,” he muttered.
“But you are, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You need to be smart about this and be prepared, because it is hard. Maybe that’s why no one was home the other time you went there. Maybe the universe knew you needed to have all the evidence before you went.”
“I need to do it soon. The detective called about the reopened investigation. He wants to talk to me. I don’t want to talk to him, though.”
She held up both hands and backed away. “You shouldn’t tell me more on that. I can talk to you about the family stuff, but anything involving the case, I need to stay out of.”
He flashed a small smile. “I won’t. But thanks again. I think I’m going to rip off the Band-Aid. Do it next week.”
Next week. Each piece of information was another cut to the flesh.
When he left, she glanced at the clock. The good news was their discussion passed some time.
The bad news was she was going to need to go home and take a cold shower to wash off this new download of intel she wished she didn’t have to store in her head and her heart.
Both ached terribly.
* * *
A female Elvis impersonator with drooping breasts dangling out of her jumpsuit mugged for the camera on the street below. She draped her arms around two guys with sunburns and foot-long plastic drink glasses. With their free hands, both men mimed grabbing a breast. The Elvis outfit was made modest by pasties on her nipples.
The woman laughed, and so did the guys. Until one stopped laughing, started hacking, and promptly heaved into the nearby garbage can.
“And that’s all, folks, in today’s five p.m. Parade of What We Might Have Been,” said Kevin, Colin’s friend and mentor from his recovery group. The two of them stood on the elevated walkway at the corner of Bally’s, surveying the madness and mayhem of happy hour on the Strip. This was one of the many faces of Vegas—the city embodied glitz and glamour in its classy hotels, sex and sin in its nightclubs, beauty and class in the fountains of the Bellagio, but also the seedy in the late afternoon crowds weaving up and down the sidewalks, drunk as skunks.
Colin held up his iced coffee and toasted. “Here’s to my best friend. Coffee,” he said, since caffeine was the one “vice” he allowed himself to have.
“Hear, hear. May it never ever be banned,” Kevin said, swallowing the last of his drink then returning to the conversation they’d started before She-Elvis had arrived on the scene. “So, the meeting with the detective and talking about the past, did that stir anything up?”
“Not really,” Colin said quickly, glancing at his watch, calculating how much time until he saw Elle.
Kevin shot him a steely stare. “Really?”
Busted.
Colin forced his mind away from the anticipation of tonight, and back in time to his conversation with Michael at the base of the mountain after they’d met with John. He sighed, dragged his free hand through his hair, and shrugged. “Guilt. It brought back a lot of guilt.”
The other man nodded sagely. “That makes sense. But you need to keep working on letting go of that. Guilt—and I mean the misplaced kind—can eat you up. When you start to feel that way, the things that we think will take the pain away seem a helluva lot more appealing. Tequila looks a lot prettier the worse you feel.”
“Yeah. That’s true,” Colin admitted. The moments he’d been most tempted to crack open a bottle were when he felt the shittiest about himself.
“Just be aware that revisiting the past can mess with your head. So keep doing the things that make you feel centered. Your exercise. Your work. Your meetings. All of it. Okay, man?”
Colin’s gaze drifted to his arms, to the inked reminders of the man he wanted to be. The strong one, the kind one. The man who didn’t live a wrecked kind of life. Strength, love, passion, family, truth. They were his touchstones, his hallmarks, and his guides. “I will.”
“Because something this big could knock you off your game. Falling in love. Breaking up. Losing a shit-ton of money. Even good things, like landing a new deal. Hell, just learning something out of the blue. Anything can be a trigger. That almost happened to me a few years ago when I fell in love with my wife. You’d think falling in love would be this wonderful thing to keep me straight. But I very nearly popped the pills again because I didn’t know if she was feeling the same thing, and I felt so out of control.”
Kevin’s admission knocked the air out of Colin’s lungs. He’d never imagined falling for someone could have those kinds of consequences. “Seriously?”
Kevin nodded. “Love nearly kicked the shit out of me.”
“How did you deal?”
“I told her how I felt. I was honest with her. I spoke the truth, and she loved that I was open, and the rest is history.”
The words struck a chord. He’d delivered worlds of pleasure to Elle between the sheets, he’d proven he could show her one hell of a good time out of bed, and now there was one last thing to do.
Open his heart.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
At last.
She blasted the AC in her car and cranked up the music, rocking out to an upbeat Katy Perry song as she drove to Colin’s home. Her mom had picked up Alex already, and the two of them had planned a festive night of bowling, arcade games, and the Chinese buffet. He’d also reviewed his history facts for a full thirty minutes, thanks to the app that Colin had found and sent to the two of them. The best part? Alex said the app was fun. From a fourteen-year-old boy, that one-word description was the best she could hope for.
As for Elle, she sighed happily as she imagined the night ahead of her now that she was on her way.
She shivered as the images flashed before her. This was a sex date all right, but it was also more, given the words they’d both said that morning at his office.
I like you.
They were three simple words, said in many ways every day. They were young words, breathed by middle-schoolers and teenagers, and yet they felt adult, too. They were an acknowledgment of caring, a way of stating that what was between them was more than sex, but not quite hurtling toward that scarier four-letter word.
There was no way they were going in that direction. No way at all. Not even possible. She wouldn’t let that happen.
As the song segued into the chorus, she sang along, letting the music keep her mind on the moment and far away from the afternoon. Just as she blocked on the roller rink for the jammers, she was blocking out the sides of her that had not been invited to play tonight.
Her outfit too was pure After Hours Elle. No steady, reliable flats and jeans-wearing Elle here. She’d decked herself out in her sexiest high-heeled shoes, a short black skirt that hugged her hips, and a clingy tank top. She was strong and toned from exercise, and she knew Colin liked to see as much of her skin as possible, so she’d picked this outfit for him.
As she turned off the highway, she dialed his number to see if he wanted her to call in the Thai order they’d talked about. It went straight to voicemail.
She went ahead and ordered anyway. Dinner would be her treat.
* * *
After the meeting with Kevin, he’d managed to carve out forty-five minutes pre-date for a trail run. He’d pushed himself extra hard with a punishing uphill route in the early evening heat. But he’d needed it, because Kevin was right. The challenging workout had helped settle his mind and heart, dislodging some of yesterday’s latent guilt and also strengthening his resolve to share his feelings with Elle.
Now, he stood under hot jets of water, rinsing away the remnants of the sweaty workout. He shut the shower, dried off, and wrapped a towel around his waist so he could get ready for his date—in his house. The best kind of date. As he finished brushing his teeth, his phone rang, so he tossed the toothbrush on the edge of the sink and grabbed the phone from his bed in case it was Elle.
It wasn’t.
Rex was calling.
“Hey, man, what’s up?”
“Okay, here’s the deal. I am almost ready,” Rex said, stretching out the word. “I’m like ninety percent ready. And I want to just kill it on this test. But there’s one problem that’s making me absolutely bat-shit crazy.”
“Lay it on me,” Colin said, as he opened a drawer to grab a pair of boxers.
Rex rattled off the details, and Colin walked him through the steps to solving the equation as he pulled on black briefs and hung up his towel. The other line rang as he reviewed how to crosscheck the work, but he didn’t look to see who was calling since he was mid-explanation.
“Awesome,” Rex said, relief and exuberance in his voice. “You are clutch, man. You are so clutch.”
Colin smiled at the compliment. “Need anything else?”
Rex cleared his throat, then said, “Um.”
Uh-oh. Rex never hemmed and hawed. The guy was the king of boldness.
“What is it? Just tell me.”
Rex sighed. “Shit, I hate to ask. But I need a ride tomorrow to the test. My mom is taking the car for a job interview, and Marcus’s ride is in the shop—his tires are being rotated. So he can’t drive us.”
“Us?” Colin asked, curiously. “He’s taking the math placement test, too?”
“Yeah. He heard I was taking it, so he signed up as well. He’s a fucking math whiz though, just like you. He’s done all the studying on his own, and he’s trying to place into calculus or some shit like that. He’s trying to find a ride, but I just figured I’d take the initiative and ask you. I guess I could take Uber though.”
“No, you won’t take Uber,” Colin said with a wide grin. He was so damn grateful to be hearing this—that both boys were eager and ready to learn. “Tell me where to pick you up and I will gladly be your driver.”
Driver.
That word clanged loudly in his brain. His dad had been a limo driver and would have been proud of him—not for driving per se, but for helping the kids who needed it, especially when it came to math. His father had never gone to college, but he’d tried to work on his own number skills during the last year of his life, taking accounting classes at night school. Maybe Colin had picked up where his father had left off, carrying on his memory as the numbers guy of the crew.
Rex gave him the address, and Colin wrote it down. “Got it.”
His bell rang, sending Johnny Cash straight out of an evening snooze and into a brief bark-fest at the door. He headed to the entryway and peered in the peephole.
Even through the tiny window, Elle looked edible.
He glanced down, realizing he’d only managed to put on boxers.
So be it.
He opened the door as he finished his call with Rex. “I’ll be there at eight a.m. That work for you?”
“Absolutely. You’re the best,” Rex was saying as Elle stepped inside Colin’s home and mouthed “wow” as she raked her eyes over his hardly-dressed body.
“See you then.” He hung up, tossed his phone on the entryway table, and kissed her.
A soft kiss for a mere few seconds.
Then a hard and furious one that had hands wrapped around bodies and fingers diving into hair and breath coming fast from both of them. They were a collision of lust and heat. They clawed at each other, grasping, grabbing, needing contact. Fierce and fevered contact.
She giggled, breaking the kiss.
He shot her a curious look, and she pointed downward. Johnny Cash was licking her calf.
“I think he likes my lotion.”
“Is it eau de filet mignon?”
“No. It’s Body Shop. Satsuma oranges. All their stuff is made with no animal testing, so maybe that’s why he likes it.”
“Either that or he has scurvy.” He pointed to the living room. “Go lie down, Johnny Cash.”
The dog obeyed, trotting to the rug in front of the gray couch.
She gestured to his briefs. “Nice boxers,” she said, and he followed her gaze. She was staring at his erection, a full tent against the cotton fabric.
He gestured to her. All of her. “Nice everything.”
“Who are you meeting at eight a.m.?” she asked, as he reached for her hand and led her into his home.
“Rex. He needs a ride to take his math placement test tomorrow.”
She beamed. Absolutely fucking beamed. Her whole expression lit up with the biggest smile he’d seen in ages. “That is so cool of you to do that. I’m so thrilled,” she said as she reached for his arm, running her fingers along his skin. “I love it when you help them. It kind of turns me on.”
“I’m taking Marcus, too. Does it turn you on twice as much that I’m driving two of them?”
She blinked. Once, twice, three times. Her face seemed to freeze, and her smile turned into a deletion.
He frowned, confused at the shift. “Are you okay?” She closed her eyes for a second, squeezed them hard, then pressed her fingers to her temple. “Elle. What’s going on?” he asked nervously.
She opened her eyes. “Sorry. Sometimes I get these headaches. It’s nothing.” She waved her hand as if to dismiss it. She reached for his shoulders, grasped them, and walked backward to his couch. “You know what really turns me on?”
“Tell me.”
“Thinking about you all day. Like you wanted me to,” she said as she reached the couch. “I’ve been hot and bothered since I left you.”
She sank down on the couch and he followed her there, kneeling over her as she lay down.
“Did you count down the hours?” he asked as he ran a hand up her bare leg.
She nodded as she settled into a pillow at the end of the couch, her chestnut hair spilling across it. “It was pure torture.”
“Were you wet just thinking of me?”
“Yes. Just like now. I was turned on constantly. I ached for you,” she said, as he glided his finger across the damp panel of her panties. His cock twitched against his boxers as he touched her. His delicious, wet, horny Elle. God, he loved how much she wanted it. He loved turning her on. He loved touching her. Pushing her tight little skirt up to her waist, he groaned as he saw her panties—black lace with a tiny bow at the center.
“You need to be naked, right now. Completely naked,” he said, tugging off the panties and removing her heels, too. The shoes were sexy as fuck, but a plan was a plan was a plan. He needed her in her birthday suit for the first time. “Nothing on. Nothing but you, naked from head to toe, as I bury my face in this sweetness.” He slid a finger through her slick heat as she arched into him, wriggling out of her top at the same time.
She moved to her bra next, freeing her tits. His breath hitched. There she was, down to nothing but her beautiful bare self and the shimmer of desire evident in the flush on her skin. Her eyes, so dark and hungry, told him that she had indeed been one tortured woman all day long.
“I almost feel bad for making you think about me for nine hours straight,” he growled, as he pressed his hands on the insides of her thighs.
Her legs parted, and he groaned as he drank in the sight of her wet pussy. She was so fucking sexy, and so damn turned on, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his life. “But I can’t find it in me to feel bad when you’re this worked up already.”
She ran a hand through her hair and panted. “I am. Oh God, I am. You’re the only thing I could think about. I’ve been so turned on since I saw you this morning, and I’m dying for you.”
Her words stoked the raging fire in him. It crackled and burned with rampant desire as he opened her legs further, savoring the utterly intoxicating view of this beautiful woman arching her hips toward his mouth.
His dick ached. His erection throbbed against his boxer shorts. His mouth watered as he settled between her legs, hooked them on his shoulders, and at last, at long fucking last, he kissed her sweet honey center.
* * *
Oh God.
Oh dear fucking God in heaven.
She rocked into him the very second he touched her sex. It was like a match on tinder, igniting her instantly. She groaned, she moaned, and she cried out his name. She was a live wire, exposed, ready, and waiting. She’d wanted this for so long, had pictured it often, and had fantasized about it so many times.
Sure, they’d had sex on a handful of occasions, and she’d taken him deep in her mouth twice, but this was virgin territory.
It was a first for them, and if it happened right, it would be a first for her.
She’d never come like this. Sam hadn’t been into it, and she hadn’t been with many others. This was her ultimate fantasy. The one she devoured in her erotica. The one she dreamed of, rode her fingers to, and fucked herself with toys to images of.
As he swept his tongue across her pussy, she bowed her back, so ready to sing, to shout, and to scream. He was a fucking dream. His lips were soft, and his stubble was rough, and his tongue was insistent as he flicked it up and down along her swollen, aching clit. She grabbed his hair as if her hands were a steel grip and she couldn’t let go. She wouldn’t let go. She rocked into his face. Electricity crackled through her, lighting up all her nerves, sizzling her skin.
She cried out his name, and for a second he broke contact to look at her—his eyes were heated, full of the same wild longing. That moment was like a thread between them, a tight, neat line that tethered her to him. To share in this lust for another person was the greatest high, the sweetest intoxication, and, hell, did they have it. She wanted his mouth as much as he wanted to consume her.
“Tell me what you say when you fuck yourself,” he said in a dirty growl. “Talk to me like you did all the times I devoured you in your fantasies.”
Another wave of desire crashed through her, and she dug her nails into his scalp. Gladly. She’d gladly tell him. She’d used him so many times; she’d gotten off to him countless nights; she’d come to his image over and over.
“Fuck me with your tongue,” she said, panting as she thrust into him.
He moaned as he licked her, cupping her ass and pulling her closer. His tongue explored her. His sinfully delicious lips devoured her, and she’d never felt so lavished, so cherished, or so utterly craved. His hot kisses turned her into a wet, writhing collection of sparking nerve endings and rushing blood cells.
She closed her eyes, sharing with him all the dirty things she’d said in her head as she’d masturbated to him. All the filthy words she imagined she’d say when she finally felt him do this. “I want to ride your face. I want to fuck your face so hard,” she said, in broken gasps. His tongue kicked into some kind of overdrive, flicking her wildly. He let go of his grip on her ass and grabbed her hands, clasping them tight, clutching them as he feasted on her. Hands in hands, this act became all the more intense.
Closer. She felt closer to him than she ever had before as he held her tight, their fingers laced together, while he drank her in. Her muscles tightened. The first wave of pleasure crashed over her, and it was happening.
“I want to come all over you, Colin,” she said, as the sensations rolled through her, overwhelming her, flooding her brain with nothing but beautiful bliss.
“Oh God,” she cried out, losing control, letting go, and giving in to everything she felt with him. “I’m going to come on your face. Just like you want.” He gripped her hands so damn tight as he ravaged her. “Just like I’ve pictured. Oh fuck. Oh God. It’s so fucking good.”
Then she screamed, and nothing else existed in the whole damn world but this perfect moment of pleasure, this unparalleled ecstasy with this man who was so unbelievably good to her in every way.
