Reviving Haven

by CORY CYR

  “Car accident when I was nineteen.” His reply is abrupt and I get the distinct feeling it’s a subject he doesn’t want to elaborate on.

  He turns his chair directly into mine so we are face to face. He takes both my hands back into his as he pulls me closer.

  “Haven, did you wear the panties?” His eyes turn dangerously dark hunter green.

  I swallow, flustered. “I could say no, but I suppose I did.” I keep my eyes low. All would be lost if I look into his eyes again.

  “Will you show me?”

  My head snaps up and I look directly at him. My heart begins to hammer.

  “Surely you’re not serious? I most certainly am not going to lift up my dress and flash you my underwear in a public restaurant. Latch, seriously, you can’t ask me to do that,” I stammer, hoping he’s joking.

  He sits back in his chair and tears off a piece of bread, carefully chewing it. He swallows then leans forward into me.

  “No one can see us out here. It’s extremely private. It’s just you and me, sweetheart.” There’s arrogance to his tone. I’d almost forgotten how smug he could be. Cocky ass.

  “Yeah right, just you, me, Francis, the waiter, the wine guy . . . Latch, not just no, but hell no!” I say it rather loudly.

  I snatch my hand back from him and lock eyes with his. For some strange reason, I don’t trust him. The sneaky bastard is always up to something. Latch lets out a huge laugh, then reaches for his wine glass and mine, refilling them both. He has another thing coming if he thinks getting me drunk on wine is going to make me relinquish my panties.

  “Okay, Ms. Wells, no stripping of any kind, at least not here anyway.” He arches his right eyebrow, his lips curling into a cunning grin. “How about you just hand them over then?” he asks, still grinning.

  Oh, this man can unsettle me like no other. I’m not one of his young groupies; he can’t just command me or bend me to his will. He is infuriating to no end.

  “You’re not serious, hand them over? You want me to take my panties off and just sit here all night commando?” I reply, seething. I’m furious with him.

  Latch leans in close. His lips brush my left ear. His breath against my skin causes a shiver to run down my spine and the hairs on my neck to stand on end. He whispers, and his accent is more noticeable when he drinks. “Better if you hand them over than if I have to confiscate them myself.”

  I sit back in my chair. “You wouldn’t dare,” I challenge. Damn, I probably shouldn’t have said that. God only knows how this man would love a dare. “You do realize, Latch, this is not a good way to start a first date, right?” I question him with a glare.

  Just then, the waiter shows up with our food. I’m so hoping that the meal will take Latch’s mind off my damn panties. As soon as the waiter leaves, Latch cuts a piece of his fish and proceeds to eat. I’m eyeing him cautiously while I try to eat my dinner. I watch him chew carefully and I swear I can see him plotting in his head. After he swallows his bite, he wipes his lips on his napkin and lifts his eyes toward me. He licks his lips. A look of calculation transforms his face.

  “Well, Haven—your panties.” It should have been a question, but it comes out of his mouth like a command.

  Well hell, crap. Damn you, Latch. Trust you to ruin a promising evening and turn it into, well, I don’t know, but really . . . handing over my panties? This man really pushes my buttons. He seems to love embarrassing me. It also appears that he can get me to do anything he asks. I glare at him as I finally submit. I fumble under the table, trying to get my panties off. Latch spears another piece of fish and seems satisfied with himself, damn him. I continue my battle, trying to get the panties down to my ankles.

  “You know, I can help you with that.” He looks at me with a devil’s smile.

  “Very funny, eat your damn fish.”

  My cheeks flush with color. I finally have the panties down to my shoes and try to get them past the chunky heels. It’s quite a struggle. Latch continues to eat and smile, and he seems very pleased with himself. I’d really love to slap that smile right off that pretty face.

  I finally get the panties off. Oh God, it feels extremely uncomfortable sitting in my little black dress with no panties. I bunch the panties in my fist, discreetly handing them to Latch. I smirk. Asshat.

  “Happy now?” I ask, cringing, thinking about what I just did.

  “Ecstatic.” He takes the panties in his hand and spins them around with one finger.

  “Oh my God, put those away!” I’m horrified. He really is twelve going on twenty-five.

  He leans back in his chair, holding the panties in his hand while caressing the material. He pauses, rubbing the panties against his cheek.

  “You know, they smell like you.” He inhales, almost breathless with his desire.

  The look on his face is one of deep, sensual contentment. I don’t know how to respond; I’m spellbound by the moment. He tucks the panties into his pant pocket and looks at me. His eyes darken to a deep blue color as his stare causes a deep pulsating between my legs.

  “I want to be with you, leannán. I knew this since the first time I saw you. There is something about you, something that makes me follow you.”

  I feel a nervous flutter as I remember the night we met.

  “I need to know that it’s just not me wanting you. Do you feel the same? I need to hear you say it, Haven. Tell me you want me too.” His voice sounds apprehensive.

  If I’m honest with myself, I do want him, ever since the very first night. This perpetual struggle in my mind of whether this is a good idea is no longer an option. Latch had been right when he told me we would eventually be together.

  “I do want you, very much,” I sigh.

  He pulls me into his lap. I can feel his breath on my face, sense his heartbeat. His hypnotic gaze pierces mine, and my body feels boneless as I sag against him. I find myself licking my bottom lip. Latch cups the back of my head with one hand and draws me to his mouth. For a moment, I lose all sense of being—all I desire is this kiss. His lips feel soft, sensuous and feathery. As he deepens the kiss, his tongue penetrates my mouth and duels with mine, circling, probing. I feel wet, hot, aroused. His other hand fists some of my hair. I can feel his length as it hardens against me. A soft growl emanates from his throat as he presses into me.

  For him, this is probably just another kiss, but for me, this is like my first, real kiss. No one has ever kissed me like this. I have never experienced anything so intensely sensual and carnal. I don’t even care if I can breathe. Having his mouth on mine suddenly seems more important than oxygen.

  I reach up, touching his hair and causing another groan to pass into my mouth. He pulls back slightly, watching my face as he takes his tongue and traces the outside of my lips gently but seductively. His mouth is on mine again and he kisses me with a deeper, passionate kiss that’s not forced, intense but not demanding. I’m so inflamed. He’s so hard and it’s pressing into my backside. I feel myself softly moan into his mouth as he breaks the kiss and licks my outer lips again. God, that’s hot. His breathing seems ragged. I pull back slightly, blinking a few times. His eyes are dark green again, almost iridescent and slightly hooded. The look on his face almost takes my breath away.

  “Latch, I need to sit down in my own chair.”

  I’m furiously blushing. I loathe the fact that he has this effect on me constantly. I’m so turned on right now that I feel wet everywhere. I try to get up, but Latch has other ideas. He grips my waist, not letting me move. He seems oddly curious as to why I’m in such a hurry to get away.

  “Always trying to run from me, leannán.” He sighs.

  “Oh hell, seriously, let me up,” I squirm as I try to break free of his hold. I lower my voice even though it’s a private balcony. I want to make sure no one can hear. I’m even leery to tell Latch. “If you don’t let me up right now, there is going to be a huge wet spot on your pants,” I spit out. Oh God, how humiliating.

  “Really?” he
asks jovially.

  “Yes, asshat, which is another good reason I should have kept my panties on,” I growl. I’m still struggling to get from his lap to my chair, but Latch will not let me up from his lap.

  “I think I would like very much to have your wet spot on my pants. I can wear it like a badge of honor,” he quips.

  “Very funny, currently, there is nothing honorable about you,” I huff, still attempting to get back to my own seat.

  “Very well, if you insist.” He finally takes his hands from around my waist, letting me move over to my own chair.

  The wetness between my legs feels extremely uncomfortable. I’m ruffled from the kiss and my lips feel swollen and hot. My skin is chafed from Latch’s beard. I can still feel him in my mouth and his flavor is everywhere. The sensation of him goes from my nipples to the throbbing in my core making me wetter, wanting more. We continue eating our meal until we are interrupted unexpectedly.

  “Latch McKay,” the voice says from behind us.

  I turn to see a very young, tall blond in scanty clothing, strutting a body that’s supporting enormous breasts. Everything about her looks predatory. She’s the female definition of sex and I know she once belonged to Latch.

  “Krystella.” Latch turns looking at her, clearly annoyed.

  She stands close to him, almost intimately. A wave of jealously hits me. She looks at me, scrutinizing me up and down, wrinkling her nose. A bitter look crosses her face and a wicked smile develops.

  “Latch, you never told me you had an older sister?” She makes sure to punctuate the word “older.” I eye her carefully as she stares me down, waiting for a reaction from me. But it’s Latch who reacts.

  “I don’t, and you know that. So pull in your claws, Krystella.” His face reflects his anger and how pissed off he is.

  She puts her arms around his neck and tries to nuzzle into him. She obviously doesn’t view me as a threat.

  “Oh, baby, don’t be like that. Buy me a drink?” she coos.

  Latch removes her arms from his neck, pushing himself out of his chair. The chair skids along the floor, almost flying back. He’s dark and menacing now, and something in his personality has shifted. He’s almost feral in his demeanor.

  “Krystella, FUCKING LEAVE NOW! If you don’t, you’ll regret it.” There’s heat in his threat, and I think for her sake, she should heed his advice.

  If Krystella is afraid of his behavior, she doesn’t show it. She looks at her manicure, as if Latch has just told her today’s weather.

  “Oh, Latch, really, regrets? So many in my young life, possibly even fucking you,” is clearly said for my benefit as she speaks directly to me.

  Latch is furious. His brow wrinkles and I can see the tick in his jaw. His lips curl in an angry smirk.

  “Get the fuck out of here, Krystella, now!” His voice is loud but controlled.

  His eyes are almost black. He reaches out and tightens his hand around her wrist, and it looks painful. I reach over and put my hand on his arm, attempting to restrain him.

  “Latch, it’s all right. Let her go,” I whisper.

  He snaps back to reality and releases his grip on her arm. I gently ease him back into his seat. She stands there, rubbing her wrist.

  Her voice crackles as she laughs. “Really, Latch, you never told me you like it rough. I wish you had. There would have been so much more fun we could have had. You are a little bit odd—I told you that, right? You and your fucked up phobias. I only hope your older model is up for the challenge. When you tire of old burlap, and you want some pretty pink satin, call me, baby,” she says as her lips twist cruelly.

  “Christ, just go, fucking leave now.” The words come out like a warning shot. Latch is pushing his hands through his hair as he glares at her.

  This woman is clearly trying to force him to the edge. It appears Latch may have a dark side to him, which causes me to feel slightly uncomfortable.

  “Whatever,” she says dismissively and smirks. She flips her blond hair over her shoulder as she walks back into the main dining area.

  There is no doubt now that everything he has done with me he had also done with her. They had been intimate. She is the type of woman he normally has. Why does he want me when he could have her? They had shared time together here, in this restaurant, on his private balcony.

  He reaches over and takes my hands, bringing them up to his lips and kissing the inside of my palms.

  “I’m so sorry about Krystella,” he says, lowering my hands while caressing one with his thumb.

  “Ex-girlfriend?” My voice is hushed. I want him to say no. Please, say no.

  “No, not even. She’s someone I saw on occasion. I can’t believe what she said to you, that crazy bitch,” he spits out after he admits they just had sex, nothing else.

  I pull one of my hands loose and glide my fingers along his cheek. A faint smile crosses his face and all of a sudden he seems older, tired. Latch puts his hand through his hair again, making it stand on end. I have to bite back a giggle. It makes him look adorably charming.

  “She probably wouldn’t be such a twat if she’d eat a fucking sandwich now and then,” he frowns.

  “Well, then you’ll be so happy with me, because I love food and I love to eat,” I say, knowing that he probably already noticed I ate most of my dinner and was now eyeing the dessert menu.

  Latch pulls me into him with that soul stealing, heartbreaking, lose my sense of speech smile; the one no woman could ever resist.

  “I’m quite happy that you eat. I can’t tell you how sick I am of these pole thin women nibbling on salad greens, then quietly sneaking off to the toilet for a little poke and hurl.”

  “Let me ask you a question, Latch,” I say in my utmost serious tone, trying to bite back a laugh. I want to get his mind away from what just happened.

  He faces me. Our noses almost touch as he tries to appear equally as serious.

  “Continue,” he replies.

  “Do you make all your dates take off their panties?” I ask mischievously.

  His thick, rich lips turn upward into a devious smile. His eyes flicker with a greenish blue depth to them as he bends toward me to whisper, “Only the ones who eat.” He lets out a quiet chuckle.

  After Latch and I finish dessert, we prepare to leave. Latch stands up and calls his driver to retrieve us. Since we both had wine, he feels it’s better to leave his car and have his driver take us to our next destination. Latch looks over at me as I stand and grab my clutch.

  “Perhaps you should put these back on?” His voice is seductive as he hands me my panties.

  “Oh really, and why is that when you were so adamant about having me take them off?” I question as I snatch my panties out of his hand and stuff them into my clutch.

  “You might need them at our next destination,” he replies as he signs the bill.

  He finishes his glass of wine and wipes his mouth on a napkin. I’m confused. I look at him and wonder what he has planned for the rest of the evening. I look around, trying to locate the restroom. I definitely wasn’t going to stand in front of Latch and wrestle my panties back on. I excuse myself and finally find the restrooms.

  Even the bathroom is magnificent, from the marble sinks to the art collection hanging on the walls. It’s rich and decadent, with a tasteful blend of European design. I slide into a stall and take the panties from my clutch. I groan inwardly. I still can’t believe I did that. Once I’m finished, I check my dress and my hair. I decide to put some fresh lipstick on since mine had been torridly kissed off. I touch up my lips, my fingers lingering on the memory of how delicious it had been. I begin to have some rather indecent thoughts pop into my head. If this man makes love like the way he kisses, I could lose all my ability to think. I wouldn’t be able to form a single sentence. I smile into the mirror. Basically, Latch could screw me senseless and I would be happy to die with the IQ and the attention span of a gnat.

  After finishing my lipstick, I do one last c
heck of my hair. All of a sudden, Krystella strolls in, looking confident and superior. I nod to her politely. She rolls her eyes in return. All I can think of is her kneeling in a stall doing the poke and puke. I almost laugh.

  “So, you’re his newest fuck buddy?” she asks, flipping and fluffing her hair.

  I try to ignore her. I take my lipstick and toss it back into my clutch, snapping it shut.

  “Don’t get too comfortable. Latch gets bored easily and he’s used to much younger, sweeter flesh. The man loves variety. Although, sadly, sometimes he’s only a one trick pony,” she says, as she turns toward me, glaring.

  She’s younger, thinner and prettier. She’s more the standard for Latch than I ever will be, despite her atrocious personality. I feel old and out of my league.

  “I’m just telling you woman to woman, you’re just the flavor of the week. He fucked me just last week on that very balcony.” She grins as she adjusts her enormous breasts into her dress.

  I do my best not to make a retort. I’m attempting not to appear shaken, but I am. Did Latch really bring her here last week? Had he been with her? Had he kissed her? Did he take her right there where we had just eaten, where he had kissed me, whispering to me? Had he done all that while he was in constant pursuit of me? I feel sick and a little sad.

  I start to move toward the door as Krystella grabs my arm. “I’m sure a woman of your particular age has certain acquired sexual needs. I’m just telling you all this as a head’s up. Latch is very opposed to doing specific sexual acts.”

  What the hell? Exactly why is a complete stranger telling me this? She certainly isn’t an old girlfriend of Latch’s. He more or less said they had just slept together. He seemed quite angry at her for showing up, so there was no love lost there. Obviously, I appear to be a threat. Is she jealous?

  I take my free hand and place it on hers, removing it from my arm. “And you’re telling me this . . . why?” I glare straight at her face.

  Krystella shrugs as she turns and begins to primp her make-up. “Just thought you’d be interested in the 4-1-1 before you get invested.” She turns around to face me. “He has issues with oral. You do know what oral is, right?” Her tone is condescending.