“Please end it.” She’d never wanted to come so much in her life.
“I’m not done asking for forgiveness yet.” He slipped his finger inside her again. Just one, only a short distance. Enough to send her hips arching off the bed.
After all the touching, all the licking, her body was extra sensitive. The littlest thing made her shake and thrash around on the mattress. Much more of this and she’d have a heart attack.
She curled one of her legs until her heel pressed against his back and pulled him tight against her. Anything to bring him in closer and finish this. “I’m ordering you.”
“Help me.”
Yes, anything. She slid her hand over his head, loving the feel of his damp hair. A sign all this touching cost him something. She peeked at him as her finger skimmed over his mouth but her eyes slipped closed when he sucked on the tip.
“Hansen . . .”
“Show me.” He held her hand and pulled it lower. Rested her fingers against her own body.
She didn’t hold back. If he wanted a show or help—whatever—she’d do it. “Watch.”
She drew her finger inside her. The mix of warmth and wetness hit her. One press and her insides clenched. Her legs tightened against him.
“Beautiful.” He bent down and licked her again.
Her finger. His mouth. That’s all it took.
Her other hand went to the back of his head and she lifted her hips. His finger joined hers. Slipped inside next to hers, touching off her orgasm. It raced through her. Had her stretching her toes as every muscle tightened. She held him there with her hands and legs.
Waves of pleasure crashed over her. Her head rolled back and forth on the pillow. With each lift of her hips, the tension eased out of her. Her legs fell to the bed as the pulsing continued inside her.
Her breathing echoed through the room. It took another few minutes before she could form a sentence. “You’re good at begging.”
“I’m here to please.” His words slurred.
She felt him smile against her inner thigh and lifted her head. Stared down at him. He’d closed his eyes and his hand rested between her legs. He was also rock hard and seemed inclined to ignore it . . . all because she asked him to.
She traced a finger over his eyebrows, loving this view of him. All soft and open. “You know . . .”
His eyes stayed closed, but his smile didn’t fade. “What?”
“I think we could both use a shower.”
His eyes popped open. “Together?”
“But you’ll need to be naked.” She tried to sound sad, but the idea had those familiar butterflies swirling in her stomach.
“How naked?”
She gave his hair a playful tug. “What kind of question is that?”
He shifted until he could look up at her. “Just wondering.”
“I thought maybe you could beg again.”
He dropped his head and kissed where he just touched. Watched her the whole time with those sexy dark eyes. “Done.”
“But you’re going to have to be the one doing the chanting this time.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Oh?”
She sat up, forcing him to do the same. “Let’s see how long you can last when I’m the one doing the touching and tasting.”
“Not very long.”
“We’ll time you.”
Chapter 18
Two hours, one shower, and one blowjob later, they lay curled around each other on her bed at the lodge. Neither of them bothered to get dressed again. Hansen possessed only enough energy left to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her close.
When Tessa slipped her fingers through his and held their joined hands to her chest, he smiled. This close he could smell her hair and see the sexy line of her neck. So kissable that he gave in and planted a soft one right where her neck met her shoulder. Enjoyed the way she pushed her back tighter against his chest in reaction.
He let the skin-to-skin contact warm the backs of her chilled thighs as he spooned her. Spooning . . . another thing he hadn’t taken the time to enjoy in so long. With her, even the simplest gestures felt right.
Exhaustion weighed down his muscles even though it really wasn’t that late. Still, a question nagged him. It kept swimming to the front of his mind and he couldn’t ignore it even though he worried it might disrupt their current calm state. “May I ask you something?”
She groaned. “You’re one of those.”
“I almost hate to ask what that means.”
“Get a girl all satisfied and sleepy, then fire questions at her.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, that sounds like me.”
She lifted their hands and kissed the back of his. “I’m kidding. What is it?”
“When Ruthie talked about me being from a certain type of family . . .” He stopped because he saw her eyes pop open. Yeah, he had her attention now. Shame he didn’t know where to go next with the sentence.
“You mean close?”
“You know what I’m referring to.” A topic he didn’t like to discuss but it hung between them. She’d made assumptions, some of them right, but he didn’t want her to connect dots that were not there and decide he was that guy.
He’d been lucky. The universe handed him great parents, a brother he considered his closest friend, and the ability to never worry whether he could cover a check he wrote. He knew if he failed or needed help, an entire family of aunts, uncles, and cousins would step in to prop him back up again. He knew because they’d proved it already. Some friends and business colleagues stopped texting back after the protective order. His family had stuck by him. That was a blessing he did not take for granted.
“The fact you’re well connected. Powerful. Can do whatever you want? Yeah, I figured that out.” Her voice lacked its usual light note.
Sounded as if she’d given him and his background some thought and saw it as a hurdle, not a benefit. “You clearly have your strength back.”
“Maybe I misinterpreted.” She turned over on her back and looked up at him. “Do you struggle to pay the bills each month?”
“There’s probably a range of economic states between the two you describe.”
“Not when you’re on the side that can’t pay the electric bill.”
She wasn’t wrong. People could pretend being financially secure didn’t matter, but those without it didn’t have that luxury. “Just so you know, I don’t think I can have whatever I want just because I want it.”
She studied him. “You can be impossible, but you’ve never acted superior or flashed money around expecting it to buy you respect.”
“I appreciate that.” And he did, but . . . “We got off track. I’m guessing that was on purpose.”
She pulled the sheet and blanket up until they covered her breasts. “You were about to ruin my good mood.”
He could almost see her fold in on herself. Her expression hadn’t changed but she’d mentally closed a door on him. The slam rang in his head. “Does talking about your family do that? Because I can stop.”
She picked at the blanket and at his fingers, which lay on her stomach. A few moments passed with nothing more than the sound of raindrops pinging on the window before she said anything. “I’m not used to sharing.”
The answer filled him with relief. Instead of totally shutting down or drifting off to sleep, at least she offered an explanation. General, but still an answer. “You’re not alone.”
“No, I mean I was raised not to share. My job was to keep family secrets and not ask questions.” She finally gave him eye contact. “You weren’t wrong earlier.”
What the hell? “Tessa?”
“I’ve given you a hard time. Called you a big freaking jerk.”
That sounded new. “When?”
“Not to your face.”
She turned until they lay inches apart, staring at each other. His hand rested on her hip and she brushed her fingers back and forth over his chest. The touch, so gentle.
“T
he point is I talk a lot, but I try very hard to hold back info about myself. That’s on purpose. A trained response developed from years of practice.” She exhaled. “And while I complained, internally and to your face, about you shutting me out, I was guilty of the same thing. It’s a habit I can’t seem to break.”
He fluffed the pillows under his head and reached for her hand. Smoothed his thumb over her palm in what he hoped was a calming gesture, because her pained expression said this was not an easy subject for her. “Your parents wanted you to keep secrets?”
“Not my mom. She’s great.” A small smile came and went.
“Where is she?” Geography struck him as a safe topic, but who the hell knew.
“Back in central New York, where I’m from.”
The little pieces of where she grew up came together to show him a bigger picture. The bigger piece about the silence and secrets didn’t, but he forced himself to move slowly. He didn’t want to spook her or stop the flow of information. He hadn’t even realized how much he ached to hear any tiny morsel about who she was before Whitaker until she started talking.
“Is that where you lived before you came here?” he asked.
“I moved to Philadelphia for college and stayed there.” Then she stopped talking. With one hand tucked in front of her and the other cradled in his, she lay there, focusing on a spot on his chin.
If she needed the conversation to end there, he would oblige. “And now you’re here.”
They’d been on this emotional roller coaster ever since she took him out to see the mysterious boat in the water. Not that many days had passed but they crawled by.
Silence filled the room. Not the uncomfortable kind. There was nothing awkward about cuddling close to her in the quiet. Curiosity poked at him, but he fought back the urge to prod. She needed to come to him when she was ready.
After a few minutes she rolled onto her back again, taking his hand with her. She cocooned his in both of hers. She tugged at his arm until he shimmied in closer and his chest brushed the side of her arm.
Once they shared a pillow she spoke again. “Ask.”
“What?” But he heard her. He almost sprawled on top of her. Still, he’d let her set the boundaries and then he would obey them.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on.”
From anyone else the gesture would have been dismissive. From her, in that moment, it conveyed amusement. Maybe even her appreciation that he didn’t push her faster than she could go. “Is it that weird that I want to know something about the woman I’m sleeping with?”
“Sleeping with.”
He didn’t know how to interpret that tone. Flat, almost mocking. So, he tried again. Used a word that felt foreign on his tongue but fit in an odd, wasn’t-expecting-that sort of way. “My girlfriend.”
“Is that what I am?” She visibly swallowed. “You said it to Kerrie, but I thought you were just—”
“You are the only one I’m dating. And, yes, before you ask, that word freaks me the fuck out. Not kidding.”
A smile broke out on her lips. “Not just you.”
A new sensation hit him. A part of him raw and hollowed out but behind that . . . hope. “You are the only one I’ve dated since my sister died. You are the only one I want to date. I can’t think about any woman but you.”
She kissed the back of his hand. “Okay, you’re officially forgiven for being an ass earlier.”
“There’s not a greeting card for this moment.” He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “But there should be.”
“About that.” She winced as she stared at the ceiling.
He dreaded whatever she was going to say next.
“I’m sorry I stormed out. I should have stayed. Thrown things. Yelled at you.”
He smiled because he couldn’t help it. Not that she could see it since he’d tucked his face into the fragrant space between her shoulder and neck and peeked up at her. “That sounds like fun.”
For a night that started with his temper exploding and her running away from him, it had taken a good turn. It would be days before the image of her kneeling on the bathroom rug and taking him in her mouth left his head. He could still feel her hands on him. The intensity of the need that slammed into him. The way she licked over his length.
“Unlike your dad, my father is a complete ass.”
The images flashing through him, all sexy and all about her, screeched to a halt in his head the minute she delivered that line. He mentally doubled back and repeated the words she just said . . . and he had no idea what to do with them. “I’m a little disturbed that you call me that, too.”
She scooted even tighter against him. Rested her head against his chest. “Oh, no. You’re adorable, with and without the glasses. Charming and decent and generally a good guy except when you flip into grumpy-old-man mode.”
He knew she’d never admit it, but he thought she liked the grumpy side of him because she was the one person who could drag him out of that mood. “I have no idea how to respond to that last part, so I’ll let you continue without comment.”
“My father . . . I should say my birth father because he’s not the man who helped raise me. That honor went to Ray Jenkins.”
“Your mom’s husband?”
“No but they’ve lived together for more than fifteen years. I consider him my stepdad. He considers me his daughter.” She picked her head up long enough to tuck her hair behind her, then rested on him again. “He’s asked Mom to marry him several times over the years but she’s not great with change.”
Her hair tickled his arm, but he barely felt it. Everything inside him froze, waiting for the rest of the story to tumble out of her. “What would change?”
“Nothing, but the last time she loved a guy—my birth father—he screwed her over. Part of her is afraid and Ray accepts that.”
Hansen couldn’t imagine living like that. Marriage might just be a piece of paper to some, but growing up he’d seen it as this amazing gift that only a few attained. “He sounds like a good guy.”
“The best. A sculptor who teaches art at the local high school. That’s where they met. They both teach there.”
“You love them, yet you are thousands of miles away from them in a corner of Washington state.” That piece didn’t fit. He sensed that everything would either click together with what he knew about her or shatter completely once he understood the why.
“And people think I’m relentless.”
Overstepping. The one thing he didn’t want to do with her. “You don’t have to—”
“Charles Michaelson.”
The name immediately registered. Hansen could see him. Around sixty and fit. The kind of guy who pretended to be self-deprecating as he planted positive stories in the press about his olden days in college sports and that one time he helped an elderly constituent across the street while the cameras were rolling. Always on television. A blowhard asshole and the exact opposite of genuine. “He’s a senator.”
“Uh-huh. Put the pieces together.”
He didn’t get . . . Oh, shit. Now he did. He pushed up higher on his elbow. The move had her shifting to look up at him. “The fire-and-brimstone, doesn’t-believe-in-birth-control-because-people-should-just-not-have-sex-outside-of-marriage guy is your father?”
“Birth. Father.” She enunciated each word. Slapped a good deal of derision behind each one. “That family-is-everything attitude only applies to the family he publicly recognizes, not to the woman he got pregnant on the side and the kid he abandoned and pretends doesn’t exist.”
Hansen fell back into the pillows as the weight of what she said hit him. Michaelson was awful. Like, the kind of guy his own party wanted to disavow but he had a huge he-will-save-us following.
“Shit.”
She leaned over him. “Yes, he is that.”
A memory clicked in Hansen’s head. “He’s in the middle of a scandal, or he was a few weeks ago. I’m not sure what’s happening now.”
�
��That’s me.”
“What?”
“I was in D.C. on a temporary assignment that required me to spend my days with a bunch of engineers.” She treated him to a head shake and made a noise that sounded a lot like ugh.
“Don’t shudder. That’s what I am when I’m not playing island handyman.”
“Anyway, I spent the weekdays in D.C. in an executive rental and went back home on the weekends. Did this for a month. He tracked me down because he’s awful and thrives on being secretive and has always kept tabs on me and Mom to make sure we weren’t going to the press or going near his family. All he cares about is maintaining the false front he puts on as a senator, and I threaten that.”
“He deserves to be exposed.”
“Well, I don’t want my life ripped apart by the press or by his people as they do damage control. But I must have stayed in D.C. a bit too long for his comfort during the job. He showed up at my apartment one day and demanded to know what I was doing. Then he insisted I leave the city.” She let out a long sigh. “Did I mention how shitty he is?”
“I’m starting to get a picture.”
“Someone who hates him—someone other than me, likely someone who wants him out of the Senate—followed him, got a partial photo of me, and—”
“Wait, you’re the one they say he’s having an affair with?” Hansen tried to hold back a laugh but couldn’t. Tessa didn’t deserve to be caught up in this mess, but the stupid bastard did. “There’s something immensely satisfying about him getting tangled up in his own lie.”
“I half wished I’d set it up.”
“I bet.”
Her stomach balanced against his chest. She bent her leg and her ankle bobbed in the air as she shook her foot back and forth. “So, now he needs me to come forward and lie for him.”
“Why would you?”
“I wouldn’t but I guess he’s used to having people scurry around and obey him because of who he is and how he can make one call and change everything. Yeah, that’s what he said to me. Made these veiled threats about Mom’s and Ray’s jobs and how he could turn their lives upside down. He thinks he can sell a version of the story where my mom hid me from him and that he’s the victim.”
Her Other Secret Page 17