Our Chance (Lake Placid Series Book 3)

by Natalie Ann

Gliding his hands down her spine, then up again, he found the clasp of her bra and undid that too, then pulled both her dress and bra off at the same time, leaving her standing there in peach lace panties and her nude-colored shoes.

  Her body at that moment looked ripe for the picking, and suddenly he was starving. His hands came up, cupping her, squeezing and pinching. Making her moan, making her come alive.

  Not that he needed to do that, because her body always seemed to respond to him with the littlest touch. “Is it me, or are you always this way?”

  “What way?” she asked, her hands going to the buttons on his shirt. He’d left the tie and jacket in his truck, having discarded them the minute they left the wedding.

  “So responsive.”

  “I’ve got a healthy appreciation for sex. More so when I don’t get it often,” she said, finishing off the last button of his shirt and pushing it from his shoulders.

  “I might have to rectify that. Not the healthy appreciation part, but the part where you don’t get it often.”

  “You might,” she said, leaning forward and nipping his collarbone. He wanted to take it slow tonight, but she was bound and determined to undermine him.

  His hands slid to her hips, giving her panties a little shove down until they fell to the floor where she kicked them away.

  “The shoes might need to stay,” he said.

  “Exactly what I hoped for when I bought them last week.”

  “You bought them with me in mind?” he asked, his chest filling with warmth.

  “I had to give you something to look at and take your mind off of all the people you’d be around tonight.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  “Well then, I should move on to my next assignment.”

  If it was to drive him insane with need, she quickly did that as she shed him of his remaining clothes, then turned and pushed him to a sitting position on the bed.

  Then, before he knew what she was about to do, she was on her knees in front of him with her hands going to work. But it wasn’t just her hands that started to play with him.

  Before he closed his eyes in ecstasy, he saw first—then felt—her tongue come out to taste, then lick, then treat him like he was her favorite candy that had been denied to her for years.

  He propped himself on his elbows, which only gave her more room to move and play and torture him endlessly. There was nothing content about this part of the night. Nope, right now he was elated. Flying high. Searching for the stars and the moon and all those other cliché things he thought were silly before.

  Her nails were sliding up and down his inner thighs, her mouth moving at a steady pace, even her teeth nipping just enough to make him jump, then groan.

  She sure knew what the hell she was doing.

  “Celeste,” he said, his hand going into her hair and tugging her head back.

  Her mouth was red and slightly swollen, her eyes laughing with mischief, then she shook his hand loose and went back to what she was doing, until he couldn’t do anything other than shout out her name and be thankful there was no one else on the property.

  “Don’t you go to sleep on me,” she said the second after she slid up his body, her breasts rubbing on every part of him. His nerves were almost electrified after that release.

  “I’m not. Just gathering my wits.”

  “You don’t need your wits to return the favor,” she said, kissing him lightly on the lips.

  “You’re right, I don’t.” He turned her fast and switched their positions, then knelt on the floor where she’d been.

  He spread her wide, dragging his fingertips up her legs and in and around her inner thighs, making her jump and her muscles flex. Two could play at that game.

  But he didn’t leave her waiting long. No, he couldn’t do that to her. She’d given him so much and it was only fair he did the same.

  Dipping his head, he brought his tongue out, tasting her, finding the right spot and knowing exactly what to do to bring her there.

  It wouldn’t take long—it never did—so for once he didn’t drag it out. He had plans for the rest of the night, so this time could be fast. It could be furious and it would be loud.

  Her little bud of pleasure was swollen and wet, begging for his attention, and that’s exactly where he went. Licking and sucking and making her squirm, until at once she screamed out louder than he’d done just moments before.

  No One Expected

  Celeste opened her eyes to the sunshine in the room. Caleb was sound asleep next to her, Sparky on the floor.

  Her body hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt for once. The hurt of a woman used well the night before. Yeah, this spending the night thing could work.

  Swinging her legs to the floor, she stretched up and said, “I’m thankful for an amazing lover.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She turned quickly, not realizing she’d said that out loud. Then again, she always said her morning thanks out loud, but didn’t often have a man next to her in bed.

  “It wasn’t meant for you, but you’re welcome.”

  “Who was it meant for?” he asked, leaning up on his elbow and looking confused. Sexy too, with the sheet dropping to his waist, a sprinkling of dark hair on his chest, his beard—that was trimmed up the day before—looking fuller now. Whisker burns were a fabulous thing.

  “It was meant for me. I say a few words of thanks each morning,” she said, leaning over and kissing him quickly, then scooting out of bed.

  “Why?”

  She grabbed her robe and put it on, then reached for a change of clothing to bring in the bathroom with her. She turned and leaned against the dresser before she left the room though. “I have a lot to be thankful for,” she said, watching his face.

  He wanted to ask, she could see it, but when he hesitated long enough, she took that opportunity to go shower.

  When she returned to the room though, it was to find him sitting on her bed in shorts with Sparky out on the deck lying in the sun.

  He patted a spot on the bed next to him. “Come sit with me for a minute.”

  “I’ve got to go get breakfast ready for my guests.”

  “They can wait. They got home late last night and are probably sleeping. Let’s talk.”

  She sat down next to him, then poked her finger at his shoulder. “You never want to talk.”

  “Okay, then you talk. You like to do it so much. I’ll listen.”

  “What am I talking about?”

  “This miracle thing you keep avoiding. Tell me a story,” he said.

  She took a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I think I need to hear this and I’m pretty sure you want to tell me.”

  “I do. I won’t tell it as a story though. You see, the thing is, I’ve never had to say this before in full. Everyone knows it about me. Those that don’t, I’m not close enough to tell them or worry that they should know.”

  “Go on,” he said patiently.

  There was no way to ease into this. “When I was fourteen I got a cold, or so we thought. It lingered for weeks and I couldn’t seem to shake it. My parents took me to the doctor and they ran some tests. My simple cold ended up being leukemia.”

  She was watching his face; his jaw had dropped, but she pushed it back in place. “Of course I was scared, who wouldn’t be? I went through chemo for six months, lost my hair, lost a lot of weight, then gained a lot of weight from steroids, and so on. You could say I looked different every time someone saw me.”

  She hated how she felt back then, how she looked, and the pity she felt from everyone. It was when she really started to focus more on standing out as a “girl.”

  “I’m sorry, Celeste.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I don’t need sympathy now. I didn’t want it back then, either. I got through it all with a smile on my face and a wig on my head.”

  She didn’t know what possessed her to say that.

  “I can see you doing that. Being
cheerful through it all, but the question is…why? I’m sure no one expected you to be.”

  “Probably not, but I learned that when I was down, it brought those down around me. It was bad enough I was going through it, why make everyone else suffer too?”

  And now she knew Cole suffered through even more than he’d ever said before. It was another guilt she’d have to deal with some time. Something for the two of them to talk about, but Cole hadn’t been around much lately.

  “That’s one time in your life when you should be selfish.”

  No one had ever said that to her before. Maybe it would have been nice to hear back then.

  “It is what it is. My parents struggled, I saw it, and I hated that I caused them worry. When it came down to it, it was better to be cheerful. Wallowing in self-pity doesn’t do anyone any good in the end. Not for me or those around me.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

  “Anyway,” she said, letting out a big breath, “when the treatments were done and the tests came back that I was in remission, we all celebrated. One big party for me. I went back to school and continued to change my wigs on a weekly basis. It was funny, really. No one knew what to expect each day.”

  How she hated those wigs and the way they made her feel. She changed them because nothing looked right. Nothing felt good, all stiff and itchy, and she just wanted to toss them in a bonfire and watch them go up in flames. Most of all, she wanted to feel feminine again, but it was hard when she was bald.

  “You like to keep people guessing,” he said.

  “Not always. Anyway, the school year ended, summer came and went. My hair was long enough for the start of my junior year that I was able to style it a little and put lots of bright accessories in it.”

  “Sounds like you made the best of it.”

  She always did. “Then my second three-month checkup came and we found out I was no longer in remission.”

  His eyes got glossy when she said that and she regretted having this conversation. It needed to be said—she knew they were at that point now—but it didn’t make it any easier.

  “Hey, don’t get upset,” she said, patting his leg.

  “It’s hard not to,” he said, reaching for her and pulling her close to him, her head on his heart, which she could hear beating rapidly.

  “I’m here and well, just remember that.”

  “Yeah, but you weren’t back then, and the thought of what you had to go through…” She felt him shudder.

  “Well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you the rest,” she said.

  “I want to know.”

  “Okay then, you asked for it. This time they said my only chance was a bone marrow transplant. And yay for me, I had a twin. Perfect match.”

  “This makes sense for why Cole is more protective than the average brother.”

  “That’s one of the reasons, yes,” she said.

  Cole never left her side through all her treatments. Then years later, he was stuck to her like glue, until she had to force him to give her space. Little did she think that space was going to be in the form of enlisting in the Air Force after graduation.

  “I should cut him some slack then,” Caleb said.

  “No, don’t. Anyway, moving on. This time they had to prepare me for the transplant. More chemo, harder this time, and the hair that had been growing back was gone once again. I was weaker than before and felt like it couldn’t get worse.”

  “This isn’t helping me any if you don’t want me to get upset.”

  “Sorry,” she said shrugging against his chest.

  Her own eyes were starting to fill a bit. She’d never spoken about this with anyone. Even though she would never forget and was reminded daily, she didn’t talk about it—like it was still a raw gaping wound.

  “You don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.”

  “I do, if you want to hear it.”

  “Tell me,” he said simply.

  “Well, now we get to the good part of the story.”

  “I thought you weren’t telling a story.”

  “Okay, the good part of my life.”

  “That’s better.”

  She never thought of it that way and that moment of admission managed to soften her emotions. “When I was finally able to be released from the hospital and go home, my father and Cole both shaved their heads as a surprise.”

  “That was sweet of them.”

  “It wasn’t just them this time, though. When I went back to school, the whole football team had shaved their heads. Remember, I was a cheerleader and it was my first year on varsity.”

  “I can see the team doing that for you.”

  “Others followed suit. Pretty soon half the boys in the school had shaved heads. It was what stopped me from wearing wigs the second time around.”

  “You didn’t stand out at school anymore, huh?”

  “Nope. I was still the only shaved head wearing skirts, but still, it was an awesome coming together for me. Everywhere I turned there was a shaved head.”

  “Small towns aren’t always a bad thing, I take it?”

  “They have their pluses,” she said.

  She leaned back and watched his eyes land on the tiara. “And that?”

  “For my sixteenth birthday my father wanted me to feel pretty. He bought that for me to wear for my sweet sixteen party.”

  “Did you wear it to your prom too?” he asked, smiling at her.

  “No. That would have been a bit overkill.”

  “But you got another one that night?” he asked.

  “Billy told you, didn’t he?”

  “He did. Said you got one your senior year, too.”

  “No. Just my junior year. It wasn’t nearly as nice as my father’s and I still felt it was only given to me for what I went through.”

  “I don’t think so. I think it’s because of who you are, Celeste. What you do for other people. What you bring or add to their lives. Not just because you went through and overcame something horrible.”

  No one had ever said that to her either. Caleb was wiser than she’d given him credit for.

  “Either way. My senior year, I handed the crown off to a worthier winner.”

  “The girl with Down syndrome.”

  “You listen well. Yes, Abby deserved it. She was a sweetheart, and my biggest champion. Do you know she asked her parents to shave her head, too?”

  “Did she do it?”

  “No. I wouldn’t let her. I talked to her parents about it and we found a way to explain it to her. It was the sweetest gesture someone could have made for me. To have another girl want to do that. But I couldn’t let her. I didn’t want her to feel the way it made me feel.”

  “It had to be hard for someone who prides herself on being such a girlie girl.”

  “It was,” she said quickly, then pushed away to stand up. “Now I need to go get breakfast ready for my guests. Come on over when you’re ready.”

  She walked out before he had a chance to respond. Her heart was hurting and her throat was raw. She hadn’t opened up to anyone like she had to Caleb this morning and she wondered how it was him of all people she felt comfortable enough being so forthright with.

  When she was setting the coffee to brew and heard his truck start up and pull away, well then, she felt her heart break.

  Not Strong Like You

  Caleb felt like shit leaving the way he did, but he had no choice. At least in his mind he didn’t. He was very close to the thin line he tried never to cross.

  Worse yet, she noticed it, he knew. Yeah, he felt sorry for her, but under it all, he felt sorry for himself more. Or disgusted maybe. That he couldn’t be as strong of a person now as she was as a teen.

  He couldn’t talk about things the way she did, but yearned to. Just hearing her story brought back enough of his locked away emotions that he thought he was going to be sick. So in the end he did the only thing he could do, he left. Ran away. Escaped eve
n. Just like he did over five years ago.

  Back then, though, he didn’t feel one ounce of guilt over his actions…unlike how he was feeling at this moment.

  He ran his hands over his face some more, then through his wet hair. He thought taking a shower would clear his head, but all it did was make it worse.

  Instead he stood under the warm spray and thought of her, imagined her as she described her teenage years. Then he thought of his teenage years. How he never fit in in that small town. Always so different from those around him.

  Yet, the comparisons weren’t even remotely close. Now he realized that his problems back then were nothing compared to the girl who wondered if she was going to live to see her next birthday while trying so hard to put a brave face on so that others weren’t upset.

  He didn’t know another single person on the face of this earth as selfless as her.

  And what did he do? The most selfish thing he could after she poured her heart out. He walked away without a word or an explanation.

  Moving to the front door, he held it open and said, “Go get Celeste, Sparky.”

  After staring at the clock for thirty minutes, Caleb climbed back in his truck and made his way to Celeste’s, trying to figure out what to say. Nothing came to his mind other than the fact that he was always trying to figure out what to say to her, that he was always messing up.

  She was outside watering her flowers with Sparky lying in the shade next to her when he pulled up.

  “Hi,” he said when he got out.

  She just looked up at him and nodded her head, then went right back to her flowers. He couldn’t blame her in the least.

  “I’m sorry I just left like I did. It’s nothing personal.”

  “Could have fooled me,” she said.

  She was right, but not fully. “It’s not personal against you per se, but me.”

  Ignoring him completely, she walked over to the side of the house and turned the water off, then came back and stood in front of him. His heart was racing and his palms were sweaty. Her stare was ice cold and he felt the chill of it move over his skin.

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “It’s hard to explain.”