by Kinsley Gibb
“Good luck with that,” she murmured under her breath.
“I heard that.”
“Heard what mother?”
“Never mind.” Claire folded Anabelle’s hand towel in a perfect square. “The question is…are you seeing him again?”
“Who?” She read the recipe again. No need to support her mother’s craziness.
“You know perfectly well who. You haven’t returned any of my calls and I’ve been dying to know how the coffee date went.”
“Ah. The real reason you stopped by.”
“Answer the question.”
“Then…no.”
“But why?”
“Would you like some cheese with that whine, mother?”
“Why, in heaven’s name, won’t you go out with him again? He’s a doctor for crying out loud.”
“Then you date him.”
“What?” If Anabelle’s hands were clean, she’d have covered her ears to protect herself from her mother’s strident screech.
“Try it mother. Get yourself some of that and be a cougar,” she said, waggling her brows at her apocalyptic mother.
“You impertinent child…I would never-“
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“What are you saying?”
“Ummm…nothing.”
“Anabelle Magdalene Broussard, what do you know about dating a younger man? Are you dating one?” her mother asked with squinted eyes.
The term dating implied coupledom, so she answered honestly, “No.”
The weight of her mother’s stare was intense so she concentrated on avoiding eye contact…first rule of thumb for survival at the Broussard house. Her mother was a fierce tiger and everyone knew tigers ate their young, which didn’t bode well for her.
She dumped brown sugar into the marinade. Wait. Had that been her first or second cup? Ugh. Lucky Anabelle, her mother and Charlie had fierce interrogation skills in common so the precision she was known for, especially in following recipes, was shot.
She gave up and grabbed soy sauce, pepper and sesame oil. She added a few shakes of each. For days she’d craved the recipe and now she wasn’t sure if the dish would even be palatable. But she focused on impersonating a master chef. Fake it ‘til you make it. Shake. Mix. Stir. She pretended to read the recipe, all without glancing at her mother.
No stranger to Anabelle’s avoidance maneuver, her mother washed and bit into an apple she’d selected from Anabelle’s fruit bowl. Her gaze on Anabelle never wavered and left Anabelle praying, once again, for a sibling.
“The coffee date was pleasant but there was no spark.” She was no good with silence. She was so weak and hated it. She shook her head and checked the grill. She started the first batch, enjoying the sizzle sound it made. If design didn’t work out, maybe she could audition for Master Chef.
“For the love of Pete, Anabelle! What are you looking for? Do you want him to rip off your clothes on the first date?”
“Of course not.” She coughed to cover a nervous chuckle that had escaped because she recalled the pool hall, when Derek first kissed her. If not for the public venue, they’d have ripped each other’s clothes off. Derek’s inability to keep his hands off of her continued to be a source of wonder and her cheeks warmed at the memory of last week’s beach excursion. “We’re better off as friends, that’s all.”
“If you say so, although I don’t think you gave him much of a chance.”
Anabelle shrugged and lined up the next batch.
“What about the architect you’d mentioned?”
“You’ll meet Heath at the International Benefit Gala this weekend.”
“Lovely.”
“Yes, but don’t get any ideas. I’m not interested in him romantically either. We are friends.”
“Fine, fine. I have to go. Yoga awaits.” Her mother grabbed her bag and keys.
Anabelle had a feeling her mother hadn’t heard a word. She still wore the look of a woman on a mission, which was never a good thing for the subject of said mission.
“I’m not kidding mother, Ethan and Heath are just friends.”
More silence reigned as her mother tugged on her sandals.
“Mother?”
Her mother’s sigh was long and full of maternal disappointment. “Got it, Anabelle. No more matchmaking. You want to be old and alone and die without having babies.”
“Not what I said mother.” But Claire had left, leaving Anabelle with a failed Pinterest attempt.
Chapter 12
Anabelle was in fine form today. Protective floor covering had been put in place so the finished reclaimed wood floors wouldn’t get scuffed. He watched her pick her way across in her high heels. It was a sight and he stopped to enjoy the view.
Fifteen minutes ago she’d arrived and had since avoided all eye contact. Initially, he’d thought discretion had been her intent since other vendors had been around, but it was Friday and they were long gone now.
Anabelle stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows and reviewed the construction set. A temporary table had been made out of two sawhorses and a door, not a showstopper, but it worked.
“Are you going to publish this project?”
“Maybe,” she said, shrugging. He narrowed his eyes at the lack of emotion, as if she didn’t care either way, as if she hadn’t labored over each detail and put up with an asinine budget, not to mention the demanding client.
The bright afternoon sun reflected off the Gulf of Mexico so the glare was almost blinding. In the next few hours, the view would grow more beautiful, until it climaxed into a picture perfect sunset. The window would frame the masterpiece, giving the homeowners a stunning view night after night.
He felt her pulling away. Physically. Emotionally. It was starting to piss him off.
Is this what women went through when guys brushed them off? Sometimes his sisters would bitch about what assholes men were and he’d nodded but he hadn’t truly understood. The last time he’d seen her, a few days ago, they’d been fine. The texting between them had been sporadic and he’d instigated each one, but he’d assumed she’d been busy and hadn’t wanted to push. She’d mentioned a dress-shopping excursion with her family for her cousin’s upcoming wedding. She’d sounded stressed and he hadn’t wanted to push. He wondered if he should plan to attend the wedding but she’d yet to ask and he hadn’t wanted to presume.
He growled, hating that he was turning into a pansy ass in this relationship.
She looked up in alarm.
Good. Finally she’d noticed him and he’d make damn sure she didn’t forget him. When he agreed to the time limit, he’d been certain he could change her mind. Hell, he’d only agreed at that point because he’d been desperate to have her but time was running out. She was delusional if she thought it was over for them. She was new to this but he wasn’t and he could goddamn guarantee their sex wasn’t your average run of the mill variety.
It was special. She was special. They were special together. In that moment, it felt like he’d been punched in the gut. A wheezing sound escaped as breathing became difficult and his pulse became erratic.
Shit.
Realization hit him. He wanted Anabelle, not only for now, but for forever.
Double shit.
When his buddies spoke of finding love, he’d laughed and given them shit for talking emotions.
But karma was a bitch and this whole thing sucked.
Is this what his buddies had gone through? This feeling like after a lifetime on cruise control, life had hit a patch of slick water and had careened out of control.
Poor bastards.
Before Anabelle, life had been perfect. Maybe not completely perfect, but it had been fine. There hadn’t been any pesky emotions to sort through.
It had been easy.
Easy was good, whereas this shit was complicated.
He shoved the drill into his tool belt. While he wrestled with the magnitude of feelings she remained oblivi
ous, reviewing the library plans with her back to him in her own world. He heard her scratching notes and muttering to herself.
Unbelievable.
He was having a moment here.
She could at least pay attention while he tied himself into an emotional pretzel over her.
The haphazard way she’d pinned her hair made him think of cast iron tubs and bubbles. He had an overwhelming urge to get her dirty so he’d have an excuse to get her in the nearest tub.
The thought made him feel a whole lot better.
Anabelle checked the elevations once more and made a few notes as a reminder to ask her sound system contact. Her work was solid and she knew the space would be beautiful once completed. A modern take on the English Manor library had been the inspiration source and all four walls would hold custom shelving and storage below. There would be hidden drawers, pocket and touch latch doors. Electronic equipment would be tucked away. A window seat for two would be on one wall while the other would house a fireplace as the focal point.
Pride filled her but the presence of a hungry male loomed behind her. Although she’d done her best to focus since she’d arrived, she remained fully aware of him.
She was nervous and wasn’t sure why. Considering all the things they’d done for the sake of her sexual revolution, it didn’t make sense. He’d been a generous tutor but their month was almost up.
She’d wanted to wallow in their remaining time together, but her mother’s unexpected presence reminded Anabelle, Sugar Bay wasn’t Hollywood. An older woman with a younger man still raised eyebrows and was worth lots in terms of small town gossip. This obsession that was so unlike her, would be dished out for months, if not years. Three years later and people still spoke about her gay husband coming out of the closet; she could only imagine what they would say about poor old Anabelle chasing after a younger man.
She needed distance because she couldn’t afford to fall for him anymore than she had already. He was smart, funny, sweet and so good with his nieces but there were projects lined up well into the future and she’d come to rely on his creative talents so business had to come first.
“Looks good Derek. Did the fireplace unit come in?”
Silence. She didn’t know why he hadn’t answered but refused to turn around and check.
Almost as if the last weeks had merged their senses, her body was aware of his. She wondered if there’d be a time when that wouldn’t be the case.
He moved closer.
His heat wrapped around her, along with the embracing scent she knew as Derek. She let her eyes drift closed. If she were blindfolded in a room of men, she’d know which man was Derek by just his scent but she had to stay strong against his seductive power.
“Come here.” His rough whisper held an emotion she didn’t understand.
Maybe she did. But maybe the thought of exploring it further was too frightening so she blocked it out.
He pulled her against him and slid a palm down her belly then back up to cup her breast. His desire called forward a need that came from deep within her but she couldn’t let herself be swayed.
He slid his other hand lower. The plans Anabelle held unraveled across the table as she let go of them to clutch his forearm to stop him. But he wouldn’t be deterred. He palmed the heat of her, not letting her skirt stop him from what he wanted.
“Oh God.” The offending fabric was in the way of him touching her skin. A part of her wanted it to be gone so she could feel his hands, his hot, talented hands. Hands that made her see stars and beg for more. But the rational part of her, the part that remembered the gossips of Sugar Bay was thankful there was an obstruction. It would be harder for him to seduce her.
He pressed his hard cock against her bottom and rubbed slowly, side to side. Longing filled her and she knew she was wet, dripping even. The scent of desire filled the air. She wanted him to strip her and fill her, as deep and hard as only he could.
He’d created this addiction.
Damn him.
He was her drug but this thing between them wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. And the resulting damage would be too much for her to handle.
Control was better. Her mother was right.
She pulled back. “No, Derek. I don’t think…”
“Then don’t think Anabelle. Feel.” His command came close to her ear. She felt his hot breath and the rough hint of his late afternoon scruff.
He brushed a kiss against his favorite spot on her neck. He really was wicked. He knew one kiss there would turn her into a witless wonder. He nipped the spot as if in punishment and dragged his roughened jawline along the length. She bit back a whimper.
Damn him. He was good.
He laughed. The sound low, rough, and maybe a little bit on the evil side because he knew he had her. He knew she wanted him badly. Couldn’t help but want him.
Derek tugged her shirt out of her skirt and she let him. His hands, big and rough, cupped her breast and massaged them. He pulled down the offending bra and tortured her nipples. The plans and empty coffee cups were swept out of the way as he guided her to the table, pressed her forward against the table. Derek bunched her skirt up and pulled down her panties. His movements were jerky with none of his customary smoothness. There was a desperate quality to his actions that called to something within her. She stood and kicked her panties off, not caring where it landed.
He pushed her legs wider with his thighs while his fingers delved into her heat from behind. She moaned, leaning against the table, her head rolled back, because he knew where she liked to be touched and how hard and how gentle. He pulled back and she heard him unzip his jeans, the sound harsh in the quiet room. They groaned as his cock brushed her, skin to skin. Their senses were heightened so the slightest touch was pure provocation.
“So wet, baby.” More cream flooded from her at his groan of approval. “I can’t wait to get inside you.”
“Yes, please.” She was ready to climb his lap if he didn’t hurry.
He chuckled behind her. “Still so polite. Guess I’m not doing my job.”
He aligned their bodies. She gasped at the feel of him at her entrance, pulsating, thick and hard. She groaned. Anticipation filled her while he rocked against her, leaning forward, his body covering hers.
He bit down at the juncture of her neck as if readying her for his dominance. Anabelle gasped and turned her head, seeking his mouth. Tongues dueled and teeth clashed as their kiss turned desperate, frantic, wet. Each strove for closer contact.
At last she heard the crinkle of him unwrapping a condom to slide on. His hands gripped her hips as he held her steady.
“Hold on.” His command was low, she barely heard him. He didn’t pause to see if she’d heard him, but thrust deep.
Anabelle cried out. The fullness made her arch back to accept more. His big body shuddered behind her and she rolled back, loving the feel of him as he covered her. His next thrust was harder than the first and she slid up the table. For the next thrust she locked her knees and gripped the table edge. He pulled back and she followed, already missing the solid feel of him. She needn’t worry because in the next breath, he plunged back into her.
“Yes.” She moaned her approval. She liked him deep inside.
“Fuck…so good,” he bit out.
She couldn’t have agreed more. She rode his thick length, pushed back, and encouraged his relentless rhythm with nonsensical words that might have embarrassed her had she stopped to think about them.
He pounded into her and she opened for him, out of her mind with pleasure. The wet, sucking sounds, the grunts and groans of pleasure they both uttered had her forgetting where she was. No longer caring that anyone could walk in on them or see them from the beach below if they happened to look up.
She needed this connection.
She needed Derek.
Her head fell back. He murmured naughty words in her ear, telling her in graphic terms the things he wanted to do to her, and what he wanted her to do to
him.
She splintered and cried out as her orgasm raced through her body from her clitoris and radiated out to her limbs. She pulsed around his cock and demanded his surrender. He answered by gripping her hips and pounding into her harder and faster until at last, he stiffened and groaned his release, setting off her second orgasm. They shuddered together, their internal muscles pulsed as she milked him until the last of their pleasure released them.
Silence greeted her slow return to earth, her body aware once again. He loosened his grip on her hips and rubbed her as if soothing her. She was too weak to move, her muscles refused to respond. Her head fell forward and she watched as a bead of sweat tracked a path down his forearm.
He nuzzled her neck and disconnected. She shuddered at the loss.
“Did I hurt you?” He kissed her forehead. “I got carried away. I’m sorry.”
“No. I’m fine.” She stood and straightened her shirt. She tucked it back into her skirt and tried smoothing away the wrinkles. Her clothes stuck to her sweaty body and she knew she looked like a mess. She glanced around but her panties were nowhere to be found. At last, she spotted them on the ladder and was embarrassed at how high up the rung they’d landed. It almost looked like a flagpole with her panties as the flag of surrender.
“Let’s get dinner.”
“I can’t.” She needed time. It was hard to focus around him and she needed to think. Reality wasn’t kind. Happy endings didn’t exist. He was young and she refused to pine after him like some love struck idiot. Their time would soon end.
“Why?” He frowned.
“I’m not…” she said, motioning to her sweaty appearance. He laughed. “You don’t have to sound so pleased, you know!” There was no way she could appear in public looking this way. It was too obvious what they’d been up to.
“Can’t help it. I like that you look like this. In fact, I plan to keep you in this state all night long. But don’t worry. We’ll go to a little hole in the wall so no one can see you. We’ll have some fresh seafood. Not that frozen crap that’s been defrosted and has questionable origins.”