It was a good thing I napped in the car, because the sun had been down for hours, and I was beyond the reaches of sleep. My mind was reeling, wound up after my return home. Things hadn’t been pretty. They’d all but called the police when I didn’t come home, you know, with me being in such a fragile state. Apparently, I was a danger to myself. To press their point, Jake and Paisley had stayed over to keep an eye on me. They were downstairs in the master bedroom.
Too exhausted to argue, I’d offered to stay in Jake’s old room—now Iain’s nursery—with Iain. It was easier, in any case, to have him within arm’s reach. I wouldn’t have to tread up and down the stairs in the middle of the night to feed him and change his diaper.
At the foremost of my thoughts, lay Carter Strickland. He hadn’t been here when I returned. Maybe he didn’t want to exacerbate matters. Maybe Jake told him to stay away. Maybe he decided he was better off. I didn’t ask, didn't want to know. I needed a clean break.
Christian Álvaro ruled the lesser part of my worries. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out who’d possibly want me dead. There was no motive. I didn’t have any enemies. I’d never so much as hurt a fly. So, who’d hired him?
Part of me almost felt sorry for the man. From what Mr. Kovač explained, Christian Álvaro had an ailing daughter. He was desperate, and taken the job to pay for her medical bills. The story is, the mother was an addict. She had used when she was pregnant, and had overdosed shortly after birth. The baby had suffered from the effects of that drug abuse. At days old, she suffered withdrawal. At months old, she was diagnosed with a heart condition that required surgery. And like most of the blue collar working class, finding affordable insurance was difficult, especially when you were teetering the border of income thresholds. He just couldn’t afford to keep up with the premiums, copays, and deductibles, not to mention the cost of medications. He had no family. No support. He was having trouble staying afloat. Now at eighteen months, she needed a second surgery. What a shit hand to be dealt.
Gathering my attention, Iain stirred in his crib. Three hours to the tee. The kid ate like clockwork. I was rising from the bed when something caught my attention. The curtains glowed in the moonlight, revealing the silhouette of a man behind them. A scream caught in my throat.
That’s what I get for feeling sorry for Christian Álvaro. Fucker. Whoever hired him found someone else to pick up where he’d failed.
For what felt like a lifetime, I lay there frozen. I couldn’t seem to move my limbs. My heart leapt in my chest. I searched for the strength to run. And then I remembered Iain. No, I wasn’t going down without a fight. Amazing what instincts mothering brought out in you.
Sliding out of bed, I grabbed Jake’s Louisville Slugger from the wall. I assumed what I thought might be a batter’s stance. Just as the figure pushed back the curtains and fell into the room, I swung away, nailing him across the side of the head. A hollow thud ensued. The figure fell to the floor. I didn’t stop to inspect his level of consciousness. I grabbed Iain and ran.
Just as I reached the hallway, Jake was already running up the stairs. “There’s someone in the house!” I shouted. On the way past, I grabbed his sleeve, prepared to drag him with me. The idiot was running the wrong way.
Jake grabbed my hand, prying me from his shirt. “Go downstairs. Lock yourself in the bedroom with Paisley. Don’t open the fucking door until Matt or I come to get you!” Taking the bat from my hand, he took the remaining stairs two at a time. For once in my life, I listened. I descended the stairs in a blur, ignoring Iain’s complaints for fear of his life. He’d get over it.
Paisley was waiting for me in the living room. Unlike my temporary bravado, she was still frozen. Cradling Iain against my chest, I grabbed her arm and dragged her with me into the bedroom. Quickly, I slammed the door closed with my foot and turned the lock.
“What happened?”
“Someone climbed up the roof,” I panted. “He was coming through the window. I nailed him in the head with the bat. Do you think I killed him?”
“I fucking hope so.” Paisley went to the door, pressed her ear against it. “I don’t hear anything. That’s good, right?”
“Jake has the bat. Oh God.” It hit me then. “The alarm’s going off. Do you think there’s someone else in the house?”
“Jake pressed the panic button when he heard you scream.”
“I screamed?” I didn’t remember screaming.
“You screamed. It was bloodcurdling.”
“Do you hear anything now?” I couldn’t hear anything over Iain’s crying. Shifting him on my shoulder, I bounced him lightly, patting his back. He wasn’t having any of it.
“Someone’s coming down the stairs, I think.” Hastening over to Paisley, I dragged her away from the door.
“What’re you doing?” she protested.
“If they have a gun, you’re going t-t-to get your head blown off, idiot! You have your head plastered t-t-to the damn door!”
“It’s got to be Jake. I didn’t hear a scuffle.”
“Did you hear me hit that guy with the bat?” I protested.
“Will you stop it!” Paisley cried. “I’m trying to keep myself from thinking that Jake’s up there lying on the floor, damn it! You’re not helping!”
“Jake’s fine,” I promised, just as the door rumbled with a knock.
“It’s safe,” Jake called. “You can come out.”
“See?”
Not taking my word for it, Paisley ran to the door and yanked it open. Jake was standing on the other side, empty-handed. He caught her in his arms, held her close. “It’s fine,” he said into her hair. “Just Carter. I need to shut off the alarm.”
Carter. Jesus. I could've killed him. “Where is he?”
“Upstairs. Waiting for his bell to stop ringing.”
“Idiot.”
“You should take him some ice.”
“Paisley’s the nurse,” I objected. “Why don’t you send her up there t-to check on him?”
“Because he didn’t scale the side of the house to see her.”
“If I wanted t-t-to see him—”
“I’m not getting in the middle of it!” Jake exclaimed, cutting me off. “Whatever happened between you two is your damn problem! If you want him to leave, tell him yourself!”
Growling in complaint, I headed back up the stairs. I wanted to deal with Carter like I wanted a nail in the head. “Climbing the roof in the middle of the night? Do I look like Juliet? I should’ve hit him with Jake’s F-F-Fender. It would’ve actually gotten some use.”
I continued muttering under my breath as I entered the bedroom. Carter was lying sprawled out on the floor. For a brief moment, I was concerned. Until he opened his mouth.
“You fight like you love, Angel—with a sucker punch.”
“And you break hearts like you break and enter—with the care of a bull in a china shop.”
“I meant what I said. I love you.”
“I meant what I said. We’re through. I can’t do this anymore.” Dropping down into the chair, I continued my efforts to calm Iain by giving him my breast. “I’m t-tired, Carter. It’s been a long day. This couldn’t wait until morning?”
“No…No, it couldn’t.” Sitting up, he moved slowly, testing his equilibrium. When he was satisfied, he climbed to his feet. “You think you’re going to just walk out of my life like that, you’re dead fucking wrong. Not this time. Everything up until now has been by your rules. Well, it’s my turn now. I get a say in this too.”
Looking away, I gritted my teeth. I suppose I was stupid to think ending things would be that simple. Nothing about Carter was simple. I refused to meet his eyes. I couldn’t. I’d cave. Even now, I’d cave. When it came to him, my will was weak.
Frustrated, he paced away and back again. “I know the female population think men are led by our dicks, but that’s not the case. Jesus! Do you really think it was all about sex that day at the airport? Did you think I was drunk? Hungover? Horny? Well, fuck you! I have feelings, Matilda! You wanted comfort! You wanted it from me! I gave it to you! And do you know why? Because I fucking love you! I always have! It’s just…shifted! Everything I feel about you shifted! I only needed time to adjust!
“You can disagree all you want, but I think I’ve handled everything pretty well. I panicked. I’ve never denied that. But I called. At least I made an effort. And you know what? Shame on you for not picking up the phone! You were pregnant with my kid! You didn’t even have the common decency to tell me! It wasn’t calling to tell me you forgot your panties on the floor of my car, or you cell phone in the armrest! You were fucking pregnant!
“I came here to see you the night you came home. I had to know if there was still some chance… Do you know what it was like to watch you walk out that door? You were huge!” he mused fleetingly. “I knew it was mine. You were carrying my kid. I had no doubt!
“I sat in the woods half in shock. Watched you kiss that fucking guy. Watched him touch you. I was ashamed that I’d fucked up, sure. But that wasn’t my first reaction. No. I was hurt. I was really hurt, Matilda. I was hurt because you claimed to love me, to know me so fucking well. I guess you were wrong. Because behind all my jokes and sarcasm, I have feelings too. And you ripped my heart out that fuckin’ night.”
Ambling toward me, he reached down, lifted Iain—who’d taken his fill and fallen back to sleep—from my arms. He poured over him, pressed a kiss to his head before laying him gently in the crib.
Tears streamed down my face. I felt sick to my stomach. My anger had shifted to shame and sat like a lump in my throat. My breath hitched over the pain I’d caused him. I had a desperate desire to fade into the background until I disappeared. Feeling exposed, I tucked my knees against my chest, anguishing over how badly I screwed up. Again.
With Iain tucked into his crib, Carter returned to my side. Reaching down, he brushed the top of my hair with his fingers. His voice was calmer now, softer. “When you were in that hospital bed, none of that mattered. Nothing scared me more than not having the chance to tell you how I felt, or have the chance to hold our baby. No amount of pride is worth standing between us. Not then. Not now.”
Choking back tears, I stood from the chair, let myself lean into the comfort of his embrace. “We’re going to have up and downs,” he warned, “and I’m not referring to my dick.”
I laughed, thoroughly congested. Carter was always talented with infusing humor into any situation. “That’s my girl.” Tucking his hand under my chin, he nudged my head up to look at him. “Can we stop the madness now?” He pleaded. “We’ve shed enough damn tears to last a lifetime. There’re much funner things I can think of doing.”
“I t-told you—f-f-funner isn’t a word.”
“Urban Dictionary would disagree.”
“That explains it all.”
“I’m going to eschew the first three entries and quote the forth, ‘Sex is funner than sleep.’”
“In light of the definition, I suppose it can be used informally.”
“Now you’re catching on.” Dropping his head, he brushed his lips against mine. “Maybe we should scrutinize the accuracy of the definition rather than the authenticity of the word.”
“That would be funner.” Carter’s lips took mine in a soft kiss, not hesitant, but appreciating the moment. As was I. There was something different about the underlying current. The desire was no less. The rush, no greater. I realized the passion was mutual.
We were on even ground.
Who loved whom first or more deeply was irrelevant.
It just…was.
And it was magical.
Carter’s hand strayed from my back to cup my breast. It was bare beneath the thin gown I wore. My nipple pebbled under his thumb. Breaking the kiss, I reached down and pulled my gown over my head.
“Jesus,” Carter breathed, staring. Reaching down, he cupped my breast again, teasing my nipple again with his thumb. I watched his eyes deepen with hunger. Unable to restrain himself, he dropped his head, which I caught immediately between my hands. His eyes met mine.
“They’re…f-full,” I warned, to which he replied with a grin. He ducked his head again, circled his tongue around my nipple, and pulled it into his mouth. I gasped, pulling his head to me. A bolt of heat licked me straight to my groin. My knees went weak. “Oh God!”
Carter tightened his arms, supporting my weight as I writhed in pleasure. When he’d sated his curiosity, he slowed his draw and released my breast. I immediately guided his head to mine, met him in a kiss. On his tongue, I tasted a hint of milk, but it was quickly overshadowed as he guided me toward the bed. Slowly, we shuffled a few steps back until my knees met the mattress. We fell with a loud compression of springs, our lips crashing into one another. Carter instantly began working at my underwear, slipping his fingers under the hip and sliding them down my thighs. When he could reach no farther, he broke the kiss and rose to his knees.
His gaze remained riveted as he slipped them over my ankles and dropped them to the floor. Gently, he reached and traced the scar of my cesarean, his fingers barely brushing my skin. Acting on impulse, I grabbed his hand, self-conscious of my flaws.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, Angel?”
I shook my head, feeling far from it. Between the accident, Iain’s birth, and my surgeries, I was left with a multitude of scars and blemishes.
“I’m missing a leg and you’re worried about a few scars?” he countered. He raised an eyebrow, daring me to argue.
“It’s different. Scars make men look sexy.”
“The only shame I see in these scars is that I had any part in them.” Leaning over me, he dropped his head and pressed his lips to my stomach. “I wish I could take them away.”
“I guess there’s one positive in it,” I allowed.
“What’s that?”
“My pussy’s still pretty.” Admittedly, I’d worried about the effects of pushing Iain out. I never claimed to be modest. If I was going to be in the dating pool, I wanted men to like what they saw. Now, I wanted Carter to like what he saw.
Blinking, Carter guffawed. He slid his hand between my thighs, gently pushing them apart. “Let me be the judge of that, shall we?” Still laughing, he took a long gander, causing my face to blush ten shades of red. “Definitely pretty,” he approved. “Pretty enough to eat.”
I yelped as he dipped his head between my thighs. My knees instinctively clenched. Carter remedied my unease with a few flicks of his tongue, effectively returning me to a state of repose. Before long, my fingers were threading into his hair, pulling him towards me rather than away. This…I had never imagined in my wildest dreams. I never got past missionary position in all my fantasies.
I was so lost in pleasure that I was almost indignant when he stopped. “No need to pout, Angel. I’m not done yet.” Unfastening the button on his jeans, he pushed them down over his legs, let them puddle on the floor. His prosthetic followed. I’d always wondered…
My fascination swiftly vanished when he removed his boxer briefs. Low and behold, the object of my desire. Sure, I’d seen it before. But I’d been too greedy stuffing my mouth with it. This time, I studied it unreservedly. He was more impressively thick than long. I’d known that, but I was no less impressed or engrossed at the sight. Shifting on the bed, I leaned up. Carter was quick to rebuff my interest with a soft shove. I fell back against the bed, my breasts rebounding indelicately.
Resting his hip on the bed, he slipped between my thighs again. I closed my eyes, surrendering myself to his whims. My breath hitched as his fingers traced along my entrance and then slowly sank in. The springs protested as he shifted his weight and dropped his head.
His breath fanned over my heated flesh. “Come for me, Angel.” Slowly, he pulled his finger back, added a second. His tongue flicked against my clit. The fullness, the satin of his tongue, the desire of his tone had me quickly capitulating to his demands. I could feel the telltale lick of heat building between my thighs. I chased it, stoked the flame as I began to rock my hips against him. Carter moaned his approval, hastened his pace by matching my own.
As the wave crested, I turned my head, pressed my lips together in an attempt to stifle my cries. And almost failed thanks to Carter’s wicked constitution. Every time my peak began to subside, he teased it back to life with a few more laps of his tongue. He continued this torture until I rolled in an attempt to escape.
Grasping my ankles, he tugged me toward him, and wedged his hips between my thighs. He watched, rapt, as he guided himself into me. I moaned, my back arching off the bed. He was going to be the death of me. I swore it. Staking his bright blue gaze to mine, he thrust his hips. Slowly at first. I moaned, fought to keep my eyes open. He smirked, thrust again. This time, a little harder. His eyes sparkled in the dim light of the room, taking in every nuance of my reactions. A third time, and his face wrinkled with undiluted lust. “Jesus, Angel, I can’t…fuck!”
Thrusting his hips in earnest, he chased his peak. I grasped the sheets in one hand, his arm in the other, bracing myself. Still, he held my gaze. Dipping his head down, he took my mouth in a kiss. It was edgy, all teeth and scrape. Our breath intermingled in panting bursts.
“Harder,” I demanded, wanting all of him, and aware he was holding back. Raising his shoulders, he dropped his head. His teeth set on edge. A growl rolled up his throat with each thrust, giving himself over to his nature. His force was merciless. His plight, determined.
Me…I fought to remain coherent for every moment. I refused to surrender one tiny detail of something I’d waited so long to experience. I’d won this. No, I’d earned it. I’d sacrificed blood, sweat, and tears to be with this man. I wanted to remember every fucking part of it.
Leveraging himself on one arm, he grasped my leg, hitched it over his shoulder. The other, I wrapped around his hip. His thrust slowed, but deepened. My fingers curled, nails biting into his back. His gaze met mine briefly before his eyes closed. His jaw clenched. His entire frame seized. Reaching his peak, he pulled out, spread warm lashes across my entrance as he continued to ride out the tremors. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” he chanted, working the last of his orgasm with a few strokes of his hand. “Jesusmarymotherofgod!”
I broke down into a giggle, slightly euphoric.
“That’s not funny. I think you just took ten years off my life.”
“I’m not sorry.”
Loosening his muscles, he pulled his knee under him, removed my leg from his shoulder, and rested it on his thigh. “Are you ok?”
“F-Fine.” Fantastic, actually.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“I’m f-fine,” I repeated, noting his growing concern.
“You’re bleeding.”
“What?”
“It’s not a lot, but…”
“It’s nothing,” I assured, abruptly sober. Rolling to my side, I extracted my legs from around him and slid from the bed. “I’m going t-to clean up.”
This wasn’t one conversation I wanted to have. Jesus. Grabbing the towel from the hook on the way, I ducked into the bathroom and closed the door. The shower started with a hiss, spitting and angry as the air bled from the lines. I let the water run hot, until steam started to billow over the top of the shower curtain. Draping the towel over the sink, I pushed the curtain back and stepped into the tub. The water was hot, providing almost no relief from the summer heat. Nonetheless, I tilted my head and let the water run through my hair.
“Move back,” Carter warned, “I’m coming in.”
Nearly jumping out of my skin, I stepped back as he pulled the curtain back and joined me. “Was it too soon?” he asked. “After having the baby? I mean…should we have waited?”
“No.” My frown deepened.
“What’re you getting so upset about?”
“It’s personal. That’s all.”
“Angel.” Moving closer, he cornered me, boxing me against the wall. “I don’t think it gets more personal than what we just did. There’s no need to get prissy now.”
Gritting my teeth, I looked down, and up again. “God, Carter, if you must hear it, you’re just…endowed.”
“Endowed?” The corner of his mouth pulled into a crooked grin. “While I’m flattered, I have to wonder who else you’ve been messing around with. My dick ain’t that impressive. I follow the adage of it not being the size, but how you use it.”
“Then you’re t-truly t-talented.” I pinched a smile and reached for the shampoo. “You used it very well.”
“How many men have you been with?” Carter asked bluntly.
My hand spasmed, squeezing more than enough on my palm. Pearlized pink suds flowed over the sides of my hand and ran down the drain.
“How many, Angel?”
“That’s none of your business. I don’t ask how many girls you’ve slept with.”
“I couldn’t honestly tell you.”
“I didn’t actually want you t-to answer that.” I was already aware. I’d learned, by the time I was sixteen, not to eavesdrop on the boys’ conversations. The less I knew about his conquests, the better, and he’d had a lot of conquests…
“Are you going to answer me?”
“No.”
His head jerked back as if I’d slapped him. I’d hurt him. It was the last thing I wanted after sharing one another, to add another rift between us.
“One.”
Carter lifted his head as I dropped mine. “You mean one, not including me, right?”
I shook my head. This Matilda the Hun was conquered by only one. I hadn’t exactly saved myself for Carter Strickland. It was just that no one compared to him. He was all I thought of, all I saw.
Sighing, Carter pulled me into his arms. “Why would you hide that from me?”
“I don’t want anything else t-t-to stand between us.”
“That’s kind of late now.”
“You’ll dwell on it.” I’d lost my virginity to him in the car that morning, and he’d shoved me out the door. I can’t say I hadn’t dwelled on it. There were many factors into why I hadn’t picked up the phone when he’d finally called.
“Probably,” he admitted.
“You’ll just have t-to make it up t-to me,” I proposed.
“Every day,” he agreed. “And twice on Sunday.”