by Holley Trent
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
She raised one shoulder and let it fall. “I guess so. As much as I hated leaving my grandmother on her own with Leah when it was time for me to move out for college, there was a lot of relief that came when I did. It was just the three of us in that little house, and I guess the emotional baggage takes up a lot of space. You can’t see it, but it’s definitely there.”
He wanted to know more about that emotional weight—to try it on for size and see if it were anywhere near as heavy as his. He wanted to relieve her of some of it if it’d make her happy.
“Do you think there’s a way to clean out some of that clutter?” he asked.
She gave that half-shrug again. “I don’t think so. But, don’t take my word for it. I’m not a shrink. I’m just a pathetic sob story with a dead mother and an absentee father.”
“There’s nothing pathetic about you. Don’t you dare even think it.”
Her eyes went wide at the tenacity in his tone, and on that one thing, he wasn’t going to try to soften it.
Self-pity wasn’t worth her time. She needed to leave that to people who didn’t have anything—or anyone—else.
“Don’t shortchange yourself, Valerie. Just because you’ve survived some things doesn’t mean those experience comprise all you are.”
“But those things shape us, don’t they? They make us decide how we want to live our lives going forward and what mistakes we don’t want to repeat. I’m very careful not to repeat other people’s mistakes.”
He leaned back against the bench. “Are you saying I was someone’s mistake?”
“No! I’m not talking about me—or—” She closed her eyes and pushed a quiet growl through clenched teeth. “The way I am doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s about me and my own high expectations. Nobody put those on me but me, but I can’t back away from them.”
“What is it that you want?”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t have what I want, Tim.”
“Tell me anyway. Humor me.”
He didn’t think she was going to respond.
She stared at her hands for so long, worrying her lip between her teeth that he wondered if they’d reached another one of those lows where he had to back off. As important as the topic was to him, he would rather back off than abrade her trust.
But then she took a breath and opened her mouth. In a soft, pleading sound that was nearly a whisper, she said, “Everything. I want everything. I can’t have it, though. You can’t possibly empathize with that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a rich white guy who already has his life all figured out. You’ve got privileges and resources. I’ve got hurdles and a lot of doubt, and not just my own, but from folks who look at me and think I can’t do the job I’ve wanted to do since I was a little girl. The one that I went to school for and scrimped through that grueling apprenticeship for. I’ve been working too damn hard not to succeed. I have to succeed.”
Tim sat up straighter and stared down at his plate. He didn’t know where she was coming from and couldn’t pretend to know anything except that she was having a hard time of it. He couldn’t fix that for her. He couldn’t spend money to make her situation better, and there were no strings he could pull to have favors done.
Maybe it was selfish of him, but he wished he could fix everything for her so she could say, “Let’s go away.” And he wanted her to do it because it was fun and because she wanted to, and not because she was running from something or someone.
She let out a dry laugh. “Oh, fuck. I’ve gone and brought down the mood, haven’t I? Wanna hear a stupid joke? Or maybe you’d like me to sing to you? I’m not as good a singer as my sister, but I know a few dirty limericks I’ve picked up on job sites.”
There she was trying to entertain him when he was supposed to be the observant, considerate dom.
Get your head out of your ass, Dowd.
He tossed the pillow aside and pushed his empty plate away. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get my tablet so you can send that email. I’m sure the response will be the big joke we both need.”
“What do you think the worst-case scenario is?” Valerie followed him into the bedroom, still clutching part of a sandwich. She perched on the edge of the unmade bed.
He grabbed sweatpants out of a drawer and found a clean T-shirt to put on.
“Wait, don’t answer that. Miami?” She pointed at his shirt and tucked the remnant of her sandwich into her mouth.
“Yep. Clay used to work down there. I’d make it down every so often back in the day. It was hard to get away from home with needing to be in the workshop building boats and shuttling my kid around.”
Fuck. Did I tell her about him?
He remembered then. He had that first night in his truck. She hadn’t said anything about it. He couldn’t be sure she’d even heard him.
It took all the inner strength he had not to get defensive or try to explain away things she hadn’t asked about. Carine had said not to dump all his baggage on Valerie, but Valerie needed to know some things if they were going to get anywhere. He didn’t want to get in too deep only to find she’d be yet another woman who’d flee at the very idea of him having an adult child.
“Kevin’s eighteen now,” he said. “Going on nineteen.”
Her lips parted and forehead furrowed. “It’s hard to imagine that you have a child that age.”
“The gray in my hair didn’t give it away?”
She chuckled and leaned back onto her elbows. “It just didn’t cross my mind, honestly. Did he live in your house? The one you’re in now, I mean. I’m trying to imagine it.”
“Yeah. From the time he was around ten. That’s when I bought the property.”
“I guess that house would have been okay back then for just the…three of you?” She met his gaze and it was full of questions.
He’d answer every one she had, really, if he thought doing so would earn him points, but he did need to tread carefully. Even if there was nowhere for her to run at the moment or if she couldn’t disconnect from him as if they were simply on a phone call, he didn’t want her to withdraw when he was just starting to get her to open up.
“Yes,” he said. “Me, my ex-wife, and Kevin.”
“You’re friendly with her? Your ex-wife, I mean. You must be if she buys your clothes.”
Here we go.
That query had always ended up being a date-killer in the past, and he wasn’t going to lie. Lying had never been his style.
He sucked in some air and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yep. It wasn’t an acrimonious divorce. We’ve known each other pretty much our whole lives. We just weren’t right for each other.”
“Oh,” Valerie said.
Just oh. He didn’t know what that meant, or if it was good or bad.
But then she sighed and leaned back onto her forearms, crossing her long legs at the knees. “My next job is probably going to be in Miami. That’s why I was curious about the shirt. I’m excited about it.”
He ground his back molars and used the hem of his T-shirt to wipe some smudges off his tablet’s screen. Change of subject, just like that.
That seemed to be her M.O. He didn’t know yet whether she did it because she didn’t want to talk about something or because she thought he didn’t.
“It’d be a big job,” she said wistfully. “I’d be able to make a name for myself finally and flex my design muscles. I’m really ready to establish myself as having a distinct style people recognize on sight. I’ve been paying my dues and doing the cookie-cutter stuff, but Miami is what I’ve been working toward. I can’t wait. It’s going to make my career.”
“And when does Miami start?”
“As soon as this phase of the Shora project ends, if Lipton makes good on their promises. I don’t see why they wouldn’t be, though. I’ve got the chops to do the design work they need for that high-end community. I’v
e won major awards for my work, and there’s no one in that office who understands as well as I do how modern families live and how their homes should be laid out. The gig is right there and in my reach, but…” She clenched her fist and let it open with a sigh. “I just hope I don’t have any obstacles to keep me from it. I feel like now is my time.”
He hoped it was for her, even if it meant she’d have to go. He didn’t want her to go, but she deserved to have everything she wanted. He just wished it could be with him.
Solemnly, he handed her the tablet and sat on the bed’s edge beside her.
“I’m so freakin’ curious. Thanks for indulging me.” She leaned over and pressed her soft, lush lips against the stubble on his jaw.
“I enjoy indulging you.”
He just wanted to be able to do it for more than a week or two.
Perhaps he’d been overly cocky to think he could win her.
He’d never been accused of that before.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Valerie shouldn’t have been so surprised that folks were clamming up about what happened or didn’t happen at Clay’s the night before. People liked to keep their sexual escapades under wraps, and she certainly understood that because she’d done enough of it herself, but it seemed they were way too keen on keeping secret even the smallest details of what was happening back on the coast.
“I swear, I’m going to reach through this screen and choke Carine.”
“Hmm?” Tim was curled around Valerie on the bed and had been in some odd state between I’m listening and knocked-the-fuck-out. He started stroking her thigh.
She sucked in some air and resisted the reflex to swat his hand away. His touch both tickled and aroused, and since Tim didn’t really seem to be in the mood to play, she didn’t want to get all hot and bothered for nothing.
“Carine,” Valerie said. “She responded to my email. I asked her what happened and if Leah showed up. She told me that Leah had arrived and that she tried to talk Leah out of going to Clay’s, but Leah insisted. She figured that if Leah was going to go with or without her, she’d best go along to supervise.”
“And she didn’t give any other details beyond that?”
“No. She said she’d talk to me when I got back. Leah isn’t answering her emails at all, which is suspicious as hell.”
“Did you try emailing Clay?”
“Actually, yes. In response to my query, he sent a link to a website with an article entitled Ten Sexual Positions You Have to Try Before You Die and closed the message with a little smiley face.”
Tim sat up, sighing, and rubbed his eyes. “He’s fuckin’ with you. Let me have it.”
She gave him the tablet.
He eased back to the headboard and leaned the tablet against his propped-up knee. “Just what kind of trouble do you think she could get herself into?”
“That’s why I was asking you about worst-case scenarios. She’s so unpredictable and rash, that I can’t even begin to imagine what bad choices she’d make.”
“Sometimes you’ve got to give folks room to grow up.”
“Maybe, but in the case of Leah—who’s often completely lacking in impulse control—you’ve got to give her short leash and trick her into believing she’s not wearing one at all.” Valerie crawled into the gap between his legs and knelt, waiting for him to finish tapping out his message to Clay.
She realized what she must have looked like when he lowered the tablet and peered at her over the top edge.
“If you’re going to kneel so prettily right there, I’ll put you to work.”
“I can move to right there.” She pointed to the spot to his left where she’d be able to see his screen.
“Nah, pretty girl, I think I like you there. I’ll be done with this in a minute. I could sure use a massage. It’s been a stressful week.” He put down his knee, indicated his waistband briefly and went back to inputting words into his tablet.
Oh.
She grabbed his waistband and tugged his sweatpants and boxer briefs down far enough to expose his semi-swollen cock and his balls. Smooth, and so enticing—all begging for a swipe of her tongue or the warmth of the inside of her mouth.
He hadn’t asked for that, though.
“Just hands in this massage?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He didn’t look up from his screen, and she didn’t expect him to. He could probably get rubbed to orgasm and not make a sound or change his expression, and she’d always considered making her dom crack to be a bit of a challenge. She liked to think she was that good, but she imagined many people probably did.
She took his heavy balls gently in one hand and wrapped the fingers of her other hand around the base of his thick shaft. Giving him a few tentative pumps, she locked her gaze on his face and memorized the neutral mask of his expression. Then she went to work in earnest, tugging him in long, slow strokes and squeezing her hand up to the top every so often to rub her palm against the slick head.
He made no sounds and no changes to his expression. He kept on gripping his tablet with one hand and tapping out letters with one finger from the other.
She kept rubbing his cock and fondling his nuts, which did give her some hints even if his face didn’t. They practically jumped in his hand, twitching and spasming. They gave clues to his upcoming eruption even if he gave her no verbal reassurance.
He set the tablet on the nightstand and laced his fingers behind his head. Closing his eyes, he let out a breath. It wasn’t a breath of erotic pleasure, but more a Damn, I’m tired breath, and that spurred Valerie on even more.
She licked her palm and squeezed the moistness down his shaft, increasing the strength of her grip and the friction of her tugs. His balls jumped a little more and clear liquid seeped from the slit at the end of his cock, and she spread that into her palm and rubbed it onto him, too.
Faster and faster, she squeezed, rubbed, fondled, and then he set one hand on her wrist and opened his eyes. “Thank you, pretty girl.”
“You don’t—”
“You can put my pants back where you found them. You did a very good job, but I’d argue that licking your palm was cheating.”
“If you’d like, I could finish. Suck you, if you’d like.” Am I begging? Valerie never begged. She went along with the program and did what she was asked, for the most part, but she’d never had a spirit of volunteerism when it came to sexually gratifying her doms. She had always just been trying to get herself into that headspace where she could have one of the elusive, mind-bending orgasms where she couldn’t tell if she were still in her body. They were worth all the buildup, but for once, she wasn’t so concerned with that.
She craved seeing Tim come. She wanted to watch him be undone by her touch—her presence—and she was starting suspect he’d never let her see it.
Why not?
“I like the way you suck me very much, pretty girl, but I’m going to take a nap. Before I take that nap, I’m going to show you how to watch the boat controls. I’m going to show you how to access the satellite connection in case you get bored and want to watch television. I’m even going to show you the drawer full of paperbacks I have on the boat that no one ever reads. Do you read, pretty girl?”
He skimmed his fingers along her cheek and back into her hair where he loosened the elastics holding her bun in place.
Shit.
He handed her one brown tie and then the other, taunting her for having tied it all back in the first place. “It should be down when we play again. Make sure it is or I’ll have to waste time undoing it myself.”
“Yes, Tim.”
“Answer my question. Do you read for fun?”
“Sometimes.”
“What do you like to read?”
He caressed the side of her neck and down her shoulder and arm with the back of his hand and then let his hand rest on her knee.
“Depends on my mood. I like mysteries if they’re not too grizzly. Some urban fantasy, depending on how rea
listic it is. And—”
“Do you read erotica?”
He started the back of his hand up the inside of her thighs, and she gulped.
So much for showing me the controls. No way was he going to get her all hot and bothered and not slake some of her arousal.
He had to.
She gulped. “Sometimes…at night.”
“What do you do when you’re reading it?”
“I read in bed.”
“Do you touch yourself while you’re reading it?”
“That depends on how good it is and how long it takes for the, uh…action to start.”
“And if it’s good”—he gave the insides of her thighs the slightest taps and she spread her knees, and then wider when he tapped again—“do you act out on your own what the people in the story are doing? Do you put your fingers into yourself if he’s fucking her? Tug on your clit if he pulls hers between his teeth?”
He cupped her exposed mound and rubbed his palm against it.
She bit back her cry of pleasure and tried her damnedest to not roll her hips and grind against him.
“Do you?”
“Yes.” It was sometimes hard to manage one-handed, but she could be very creative when she had to be. Certainly, an architect could figure out how to prop up an e-reader when she needed to use both hands for something else.
“Do you make yourself come like that, or do you back off from the orgasm?”
“Sometimes I come.”
“Mm-hmm.” He rubbed his hand against her a little more firmly and slid it farther back between her legs. “Well, I don’t have any erotica on the boat, but if you want to read while I rest, there’s plenty of other material. I think I’ll pick something out for you.”
“I—” She cringed, wondering what kind of dry reading material a guy who built boats for a living kept in his drawers, but she nodded all the same. “Yes, Tim.”
“Good.” He eased himself off the bed and helped her to her feet.
“Should I…put on some pants, or—”