Chapter 13
Laura went outside and played the part of a blushing bride after that. She joked with her brothers and cousins and drank one too many glasses of champagne. She looked at her husband, and saw what her grandmother had described. And it didn’t make her cringe back into herself. She allowed the feelings that flowed from Charlie—as easy as summer afternoon rain—inside her. It was almost like an experiment, and it was a successful one until they were alone in the car.
He had his hand on her leg, squeezing gently through her dress. And it was like they were any other couple headed to their shared home after a family party. He hadn’t asked her if she was going to sleep over; it was assumed. She had a freaking toothbrush at his house. And a drawer.
Her husband’s contentment was palpable, and she knew it didn’t have anything to do with the slew of gifts they’d received from her family. Although she would have liked to imagine that his happiness came from the naughtier gifts that Alana, Carla, and Maya had given her in private—the ones that made her blush to think about—she knew it wasn’t that either. He fit in drinking scotch and smoking cigars with her Uncle Hector. He had lugged the rapidly growing toddler Layla around, and he even seemed to understand her mumbled toddler-speak.
A pang in her heart at the thought of Charlie with a baby made her push his hand off of her leg. She didn’t want all of this to become so normal, so much a part of her that it would hurt when it ended. She struggled to separate this into pieces in her mind.
“What’s wrong?” He glanced over at her as he moved through traffic.
“Nothing.”
He laughed, and she knew he wasn’t buying it. “You know, up until just then, I didn’t really feel married.”
She scowled at him. “Why not?”
“I just remember Jonah telling me a story about how the word ‘nothing’ had about a thousand meanings that he didn’t realize until he hooked up with Carla.”
“Hmm.” She looked out the window of the car, and tried to lose herself in the bright lights and passing cars. Willed Charlie into companionable silence.
“And ‘nothing’ doesn’t mean ‘nothing,’ right now.” He sighed and tapped the steering wheel with one finger, after they stopped behind a line of cars waiting to exit the freeway. “Is it your parents?”
“No. It’s nothing.” Nothing that she wanted to talk about. She needed to get her own head straight before word-vomiting all over Charlie. He acted like it was so easy, that they could just be married and date and fit into each other’s lives. She felt like she was the only person in this car actually thinking about the consequences of what they were doing, the only one thinking about the future.
“See, I don’t believe you, gorgeous.” He put his hand on her thigh again, and she didn’t bother to move it this time. “Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” That was the truth. He was the perfect husband, and that was the problem. “You did everything right.”
“Then, why aren’t you talking to me?”
“I’m just thinking, okay?”
“Don’t you know?” He slid his hand up her thigh. “I want to know what you’re thinking about. I want to know everything that goes on in your head. I want to know what’s hurting you so that I can fix it. It’s sort of become an obsession.”
If she were a different kind of woman, his words would have wrapped themselves around her heart so tightly that she wouldn’t have been able to live without him repeating them. But she wasn’t capable of the kind of openness that he demanded from her. The sooner he saw that, the sooner he could let her go. And it was best for him to let her go.
“I can’t give you that.”
“Then what can you give me?”
“Sex.” Even though, every time they had sex, she came closer and closer to cracking her heart open to him. If she were being honest with herself, she already had.
He moved his hand higher, until his little finger was nestled against the apex of her thighs. “Is that all you’re willing to give me?”
His voice held a chord of hurt that she hated. She wanted to take it back and tell him that he could have whatever he wanted from her.
Before she could answer, he said, “I’m not going to turn it down, but guess what?”
She looked over at him, and his face was all in shadows and light. For the millionth time, she was struck by how gorgeous he was. He was Narcissus, of a sort that hadn’t drowned. Instead of remaining an adolescent asshole and becoming irredeemable because of that stupid tape, he’d picked himself up. He was even more beautiful now that he had been just after college. There was something there that hadn’t been there before. A determination that set his jaw in stark relief.
“What?”
He pulled the car into his driveway and shifted into park before turning to her. His gaze was intense, and she was tempted to flee the car. But she knew he would follow her. She’d been so worried about him burrowing inside her and making her fall in love with him. So afraid of losing herself in him. But he already had her pinned.
“I’m not going to stop trying to make you see that this works.” He grabbed her knee, and put his hand under her dress. Her skin burned from the searing truth of his words paired with his savagely tender caress. “And if I have to make you see that through sex, all the better.” He smiled, and the street light against his face made it look almost sinister. “That’s the best weapon I have.”
* * * *
Just sex his ass.
He knew when she’d disappeared for a half hour that there was trouble brewing. He could smell it like a thunderstorm rolling in off the Gulf. She didn’t know that he knew that secret, that her emotions weren’t as locked away from him as she thought. And he wasn’t going to tell her that he knew.
She’d just given him an open invitation to show her how she felt about him. To give a mind-blowing demonstration of how magical they were together. He wasn’t going to apologize for standing up for her with her parents. And he wasn’t going to promise not to do it again. That wasn’t a promise he could keep, and it contradicted his marriage vows.
Every day, those vows mattered more and more to him. They might be a temporary inconvenience for her, but he was going to stop questioning how right it felt to belong to Laura. He was going to do everything he could to make her stay. The only way he would let her leave was if he was sure that was the only way he could make her happy. Watching her walk away would gut him, but what she wanted was more important to him.
He got out of the car, and made it to the other side in time to help her out. She was unsteady on her feet even though she’d had maybe three glasses of champagne in three hours, and that filled him with a satisfaction that bordered on carnal. The fact that he could make this prima ballerina falter gave him a shot of manly pride.
That pride countered the feeling of vulnerability that chased him around when he was dealing with her emotions. Although he could predict when her mood was going off track, he couldn’t seem to do anything to stop it. He couldn’t lie back and let things happen to her. And he sure as shit wouldn’t stand by and allow her parents to hurt her. He had to make her see they were a family now. And he wouldn’t treat her like her father treated her mother.
He respected her as much as he wanted her.
She regained her grace and walked up the front path to his door provocatively. Although she had to be quite slim for her job, her curves were undeniable. The long lines of her body sang to him. It was no wonder to him that entire theaters of people teared up when she danced. With the flutter of her hand, she could make people hold their breath.
She was a conductor of a sort, but of emotions. She had him on a string, but she wouldn’t admit that he meant anything to her—that what was happening between them was unique and important.
When they’d met at the wedding, her body had driven him crazy. Her wild eyes and supple lips, the strength in her movements when she’d pushed him into the sand and kissed him for the first time. He’d been helpless to stop her when she didn’t know what she was doing.
Now? When she was deliberately twitching her hips in a way that made her skirt ghost across her bare thighs? He was a goner.
But now that he’d learned her body and knew exactly how to make her come apart in his arms over and over, for hours at will, he had a way to fight against it.
Instead of opening the door when he reached her, he pressed her against the wooden planks and took her mouth. She tasted like champagne and spice, and she opened to him without hesitation. He swept his tongue inside her mouth and there they danced. It was a fight, a play fight, but a battle nonetheless. But when he was touching her, and she was giving back to him this way, it didn’t matter who had the upper hand. They were equals in this.
He’d kept his keys in his hand and got the door open without moving his mouth away from hers. He caught her by the waist and carried her into the foyer, not setting her down until they reached his bedroom.
Though he had a lot to say to her that didn’t have anything to do with sex, he stuck with the only thing she was willing to offer him. “Panties off, gorgeous.”
When she went for the straps of her dress, he knocked her hands away before kneeling down and pulling her underwear off, leaving her dressed. “You don’t want me to be naked?”
“I always want you naked, but I’ve been thinking about this dress all night.” It was made of some ultra-soft fabric that was almost the same smoothness as her skin. When she’d walked into his living room wearing it earlier, he hadn’t been able to get the thought of sticking his head under it and eating her until she cried for him to stop out of his head. Everything she wore turned him into a sick bastard, and he wasn’t even sorry. He couldn’t even fake it with her.
“You haven’t been thinking about it on your bedroom floor?” Her voice had this provocative thing that made him growl every time she did it. Her voice and her body had the same effect on him—drugging.
“I want to feel like I’m drowning in this dress while I lick this pretty cunt.” He caught the back of her thighs when she wavered. In the past few weeks, he’d learned that she liked it when he used ultra-dirty words. It made her go soft and even wetter. He’d use the c-word every other word if it made her happy.
“Your funeral.” Her soft laugh stopped when he crawled underneath her skirt. He kept his grip on the backs of her thighs as he kissed up her legs from the ankles. He’d never had fantasies about licking the shoes of a woman in high heels, but he could understand it when he was at her feet. He hoped those shoes were reasonably comfortable. Because after he licked her until she came, he wanted those pointy stilettoes digging into his ass as he rode her.
She must have been holding onto her thighs while he was making his way up her legs to her pussy because he encountered resistance getting there—he was stuck under her dress. And he hadn’t meant that drowning thing literally. He nudged her until her fingers fought for purchase on the top of his head through the fabric. The desperation of her touch gratified him and sent more blood to his dick as the scent of her made saliva gather in his mouth.
Mrs. Hernandez had insisted that they have some of the cake she’d ordered for their wedding reception. But, as he ate a piece from his wife’s hand, catching her index finger in his mouth, he’d only wanted this.
Her body jerked when his mouth finally made it to her pussy, but he held her upright. She moaned when he took her clit into his mouth, and he smiled against her folds as she tried to scalp him through her dress.
He wasn’t letting her sleep tonight until her body knew who it belonged to. Even if he couldn’t wring the words from her mouth, her pleasure would make it clear.
* * * *
Laura never would have guessed that a reformed misogynist pig would have learned to eat pussy like a fucking god, but miracle-of-miracles, her husband was a champion at it. And it wasn’t fair to call him a misogynist, because he’d proven that title didn’t fit anymore.
When he took her clit between his lips, brushing it with the edge of his teeth in a way he knew drove her crazy, she wasn’t sure she could stay standing. But he held her up, and she wasn’t about to pick an argument about it this time. Every time he did this—and he seemed to love doing it—her body became primed more easily. Even as she knew that she should be pulling away from him, her body wouldn’t let her. Her senses tuned to his movements, and at this point, just a look or a touch could get her close to coming. The first time, it had just been his words, and now it was the touch and memory that had her spiraling into an orgasm with an unladylike screech.
Only when the last of her tremors had subsided did he break contact with his mouth and lower her to the edge of the bed. Still, he didn’t come out from beneath her dress. He kissed up and down her thigh reverently, and she petted him. Although she didn’t want to accept him soothing her, she wanted to give that to him.
She didn’t know how long they were like that, but she finally pulled up her skirt. His hair was ruffled, and his beard was still wet with her. The power in being able to turn this man into the debauched picture in front of her had her needing him inside her.
“What?” He appeared to be as dazed as she was, and he hadn’t even gotten off yet. He licked his lips as though he savored the taste of her, and it gutted her.
“I didn’t want you to actually suffocate down there.”
She gasped when he ran his fingers over her, nerve endings still ablaze.
“This? I could never suffocate down here.” He entered her with one finger, just making the need worse. “This is ambrosia. It could keep me alive on a desert island.” He withdrew his hand and licked his finger. She couldn’t look away from the filthy way his tongue swirled around his finger. The same way it had moved against the most intimate part of her.
He stood up, and his hand stayed hers when she went for his belt. Instead, he pressed her to the bed with his body and scooted her up. His cock brushed against her bare pussy, and she whimpered. She needed him again.
“I’m going to fuck you. Don’t worry.”
“Who said I’m worried?” She wanted to make a joke, but the anxiety in her own voice was clear. She was ready to whine for his cock. Beg for it. Scream.
He pumped against her and sat up so he straddled her waist. Then, he took her hands in his and pinned them to the bed over her head. Her dress had ridden up on her midsection, and his erection lay against her through fine fabric. She’d never wanted a man inside her this much, and he was just sitting there watching her. Denying her.
She bucked up against him, and he had the nerve to laugh.
“Get off.” He knew she didn’t like being teased, yet he did it anyway.
“Is that an order?”
Again, she tried to throw him off with her hips, but he was too heavy. “You’ll never get off again when I’m done with you.”
“Shhhhh.” He released one of her hands and rubbed down her side. She ought to have clawed at him, but didn’t. “I just want to look at you. You know that gets me just as hot as when your hot cunt turns to honey all over my face, don’t you?”
He undid his belt with one hand, and didn’t brush her away when she helped this time. When his erection was out of his trousers, she licked her lips.
In that moment, she wanted nothing more than for him to press his cock inside her mouth and ride her face until she couldn’t think about anything else but trying not to choke on it. She wanted him to overwhelm her senses as much as he’d overwhelmed her emotions.
But he ignored her obvious invitation. “It’s embarrassing.” He fisted his cock and squeezed, not seeming embarrassed at all. “I could come in my pants watching you dance. When you’re teasing all those fucks at a bar as Carmen, I lose my fucking mind. I have to press down on my fly to keep from embarrassing myself.”
She licked her lips again. “Then don’t watch.”
He released his cock and held her jaw. His thumb probed her lips and she ran her tongue across it. It tasted salty, like him.
“Don’t you get it? I can’t not watch.”
She didn’t want him bringing all of these confusing emotions in here—in what she’d started thinking of as their bedroom. Right then, she was glad that they’d never fucked in her condo. She’d never be able to sleep there again, after this was over, if he’d done this there. They were still wearing most of their clothes, and yet she felt more naked than she ever had. More open than she’d ever wanted to be.
“Take off your shirt.” She needed to get this back to a primal base level. “I want to watch too.”
Thank God that he followed instructions. He released her other hand with a meaningful nod that meant not to grab for his cock now that he’d freed her and unbuttoned his fine, white shirt. Every button he revealed his tanned flesh, and a smattering of hair. He was like a Viking, and she truly felt conquered. She could almost picture him removing furs and ravaging a captive.
During one of the dinners that had to stop after this, he’d told her that his father was “super-fucking-Irish,” but his mother was Dutch. That must be where he got the height and the barbarian looks from. Even as she loved that she knew that about him, she worried that she would never get all the things about him out of her head. Maybe he’d moved in permanently without her knowing?
When his chest was bare, he leaned down and captured her mouth in a lazy sensual kiss. His hands roamed over her body, over and under her dress. Even though he was so hard against her that it had to be painful, he was in no rush. And even though she could kiss him for hours, she needed him inside her.
“Please, Charlie.”
He pulled back and looked at her. His face was so close that she couldn’t escape his gaze if she wanted to. If she’d been naked before, when he was holding her down, he was stripping her skin off right now. “What can I give you that you don’t already have?”
“Fuck me.” His cock twitched against her with the percussive statement, so she knew he was holding back.
“Is that what you want? You just want me to fuck you?”
He knew the truth and she was afraid that he would make her say it. The words make love to me were just behind her lips, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them. So, she nodded.
“Whatever you want.” He reached over and grabbed a condom. She knew she’d fucked up when he slapped her hands away when she tried to help him put it on. “Too fucking turned on for that.”
He settled his body over hers, and notched her entrance. Then, he pushed inside her so swiftly it took her breath away. He pushed up on his palms, taking way the friction of his chest against her, and suddenly she felt cold. She was so turned on that she couldn’t bear if he stopped, and her hips met his with every thrust.
But something was wrong. He fucked her hard and fast. When she started choking out moans, he pressed her clit hard with one thumb. Usually when they were like this, he whispered to her about how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her. This time, he pulled up her leg until it met her shoulder. It didn’t hurt her body when he splayed her wide open and slammed into her. Charlie being rough with her body felt good.
The look on his face, though. She feared that the hardened jaw and the dark gaze wasn’t just about how into her he was. There was something distant about the way he fucked her, even as he was deeper inside than anyone ever had been.
The sick part was that the anger may have turned him on even more. The muscles in her thighs began to twitch, heralding another orgasm. This one felt like a big wave from an offshore tropical storm. It was bearing down on her and threatening to choke the life from her.
“Please.” She didn’t know what she was asking for; she only knew she needed him there with her, and it felt like he’d moved away.
“Are you going to come?” He pressed her clit harder and she squealed as the crest of it hit her. “That’s my good girl.”
She didn’t stop coming, but her eyes snapped open as he lost himself in his own climax. His face twisted into agony as he pressed himself inside her one last time and stayed there. And the misery lingered as his orgasm ended.