by Marni Mann
“How was your visit with Brady?” he asked, finally looking up to greet me as I walked past him.
I took a bottle of water from the fridge and gulped most of it down. “It was good. I think he’s finding what he needs. Or learning to, at least.”
He shut the screen of his laptop and straightened up. I stood in front of the coffeemaker, several feet separating us, and waited for him to speak. I wasn’t able to dive into his eyes and read his thoughts like he could do with mine. Still, I could feel the tension crackling between us, like the charge in the air just before a lightning strike. “If you want to know something, ask me. I can’t promise I’ll answer, but I’ll try.”
“Brady…”
I stayed clear-eyed. “What about him?”
“There’s more there than just a friendship. Tell me the truth, Rae. Whenever you talk about him, you get this look on your face. I don’t like it.”
I took a deep breath to calm the swirl of anger that was building inside me. I’d had this same conversation with Saint, and I was tired of talking about it. I couldn’t stand the automatic assumption made by the men in my life that two people of the opposite sex weren’t capable of being friends. I didn’t feel the need to justify my relationship with Brady. But for Hart’s sake, I would explain it. “Brady and I were already best friends when you and I dated in high school. Nothing more has ever happened between us, and it never will. He’s like family to me. Shane, too.” I moved to the island and stood directly across from him, not dropping my gaze for even a second. “I haven’t lied to you, Hart. You have no reason not to believe me.”
His shoulders relaxed. His stare lost its intensity. “You’re right.”
I wasn’t used to hearing that from a man. “If you want to be in my life, you’re going to have to accept that Brady is a part of me, and he always will be. I won’t choose you over him just because you don’t understand what he means to me. So don’t ever ask me to.”
“I can accept that.” He glanced down at his fingers, the tips turning white from his grip. “What bothers me about your relationship is that I can’t touch your face…and he knows why that is. That I see pain in your eyes and I don’t know what caused it, but he does. He has the answers to all my questions, and it doesn’t feel like you’re getting any closer to telling me what they are.”
I held the bottle of water against the counter to steady my hands. “You’re wrong. I am getting closer. But Brady has earned those answers; he’s been with me since the beginning, and he’s never left my side.”
“You’re still punishing me because I left Bar Harbor.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t phrase it as one.
As soon as the words hit me, I recognized the sadness in his eyes, the regret. He hadn’t been given a choice to stay; I understood that, and I wasn’t blaming him for that anymore. But there was no way I could reach down into my memory and pull out every storm-darkened moment that had happened between the time he left and when he returned.
It was too much pain to relive.
“No,” I whispered, “I’m not. I’m just protecting myself.”
“You don’t have to.” He moved to my side of the island, reaching for my shoulders and slowly pulling me closer. “I’m not going to hurt you, Rae, but you’ve got to let me in. You’ve got to show me the girl behind the smile I keep seeing. She’s the one I’m after.”
I looked away, filling my lungs with air and rubbing my stomach to calm it. Slowly, I met his steely gaze, blinking away whatever was clouding my vision. “I’m going to give you exactly what you’re asking for, but you’ve got to give me something first.”
He kept his hands on my waist as he kissed my eyelids. “Anything.”
He may not have intended on hurting me, but digging up the truth again would do just that. I had to know that I was ready. “Time. That’s all I’m asking for.”
I needed to get through the next twenty-one days.
He smiled, the thickness of his lips covering only the edges of his teeth, so straight and white. It was the first time he had done that since I’d gotten to the house. It was so warm as it shone on me. “You got it.”
I pushed myself up on my toes and brushed my lips over his smile. “I have tonight off.”
His fingers tightened and his breathing sped up. “Mmm…finally.” He checked his watch without letting me go. I saw the corners of his smile drop. “I don’t know what time I’ll be home.”
I ran my tongue over his lips. “Doesn’t matter,” I told him. “I’ll be up whenever you get back.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
IT WAS THE FIRST day off I’d had during which Hart wasn’t at the house, so I only rested for a few hours. I needed to get my things organized. All of my clothes had to be washed, and most of my cosmetics were close to being empty. I made a quick trip into town to restock everything, and then began setting up my things in the guest room. I had no intention of sleeping in there, but it gave me a place to spread out. It was almost like my own little apartment, which was something I’d never had before but had always wanted.
Instead of being crammed into trash bags, my clothes were now either hung neatly on different racks in the closet, or folded inside the dresser. My new cosmetics were in a single row next to the sink. None of the plastic bottles had a filmy haze over them, and there wasn’t thick, curly black hair on the counter or inside the shower…or used condoms in the trash.
Most of the guys I’d lived with were about as grimy as Jeremy and Caleb. Saint had been much better. But Hart’s house was spotless. His housekeeper kept it that way and made sure the fridge and pantry were stocked. He also had a gardener, and someone who shoveled his snow. He even had a service that delivered his dry cleaning.
He was on a whole different level than what I was used to.
I was so far from reaching the things he had accomplished. Still, I was proud of the job I’d gotten; it afforded me to start making my monthly deposits again. I just knew at some point my lack of success would matter to him. It was important to be proud of the person you chose to be with; maybe that was part of the reason my relationships in the past hadn’t lasted. Saint couldn’t be proud of someone who worked for him. And there was no way Hart would be proud of the girl who served him drinks at the casino.
A better career was waiting for me.
I knew what I wanted it to be, too.
I knew reaching for it would require me to go back to school. But first, I had to establish a permanent place to live. Portland was really too far of a commute regardless of what Hart had said, therefore I knew he’d be leaving after he finished the Bar Harbor and Bangor spas. I didn’t want to go back to Caleb’s, and although I had always liked staying with Brady, I couldn’t crash on his couch when he got out of rehab. It would be especially awkward if he started dating someone, which I really hoped would happen. All that really meant was I needed to get my own place. If I continued making the money I was, I’d probably be able to afford something fairly soon. I needed to start thinking about that option.
I had about an hour before Hart left work, so I stepped into the shower. The showerhead had multiple settings, which was something I wasn’t used to. I tried each one and stopped when the water began to pulse and massage. For once, I wasn’t in a rush. The tub was clean; my feet didn’t stick to the bottom. There wasn’t anyone waiting to use the bathroom, or any drugged-out peepers lurking around. It was a welcome change.
The scent of the shampoo mixed with the steam. It smelled like the beach on a day with a perfectly clear sky and the warmest water. I moved under the stream to wash out the suds and closed my eyes. My hands pushed against the wall in front of me. My hair fell around my face, clinging to my cheeks. The scent passed through me, relaxed me; it washed me clean in a way I hadn’t been before. Slowly, I was letting go of it all—every thought, every memory, every scar. I was letting them be cleansed from my skin and my soul, and allowing the water to bring me to a place of peace, of total white.
&
nbsp; Cloud white.
It didn’t last long.
Strong, determined hands had found their way to my sides, rubbing up to my ribs and down to the base of my ass. Soft, firm lips pressed into the back of my neck. My breathing sped up in response. The wetness that covered me from within thickened, especially when his fingers grazed my nipples.
“Finding you naked in the shower is even better than finding you in my clothes.” His breath licked my shoulders, and a shiver trickled down toward my navel.
“I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
I tried to turn around. He wouldn’t let me. “That was my plan.” His arms pressed harder against me; his mouth turned hungrier. My head tilted back into his chest and I leaned into him, feeling his nakedness behind me. His hand crawled down between my inner thighs and pushed them apart. He stopped me before I shifted. “Don’t move. Just take everything I’m about to give you.”
Since the moment he’d come back into my life, all I had done was take from him. He was completely in control. He was practically all I thought about. My body responded to him. It became more evident each day that he really did own it, so I didn’t try to dissuade him or promise him things in return for what he gave.
If he wanted something from me, it sounded like he would take that, too.
The water pounded over my head. I closed my eyes and focused on his fingers as they traveled around my breasts. They rubbed in circles and tugged at the sensitive mounds rising beneath his touch. His free hand spread over my stomach. Every reaction that came from me started in my core—the quivering, the shuddering, the goose bumps. The tightness that gripped me as I waited for his next move. If he was testing how far he could take me, I made sure to show him it was working. I bucked when he pinched; I arched my back when he used the pad of his finger. I ground into him when he lowered his hand to my inner thighs.
“Breathe,” he whispered into my neck.
I pulled my face out of the water and flipped my hair back. It fell over his chest and down the top of his abs. His nipple piercing peeked through my locks and pushed against my shoulder. The metal wasn’t cold like I expected it to be. The shower had warmed it along with his skin.
“Mmm,” he groaned. “You keep pushing into me like that, and I’m going to punish you. I’m going to make you beg for it.” His lips closed around the bottom of my earlobe; his hand was once again between my legs. It came from underneath and cupped me. “Is this what you want?”
I looked down to see the tips of his fingers. “Yes…”
“Like this?” His skin, so hot and wet, almost felt like a tongue. He used his fingers to draw a line that ran down the middle of me, passing over the exact spot that was throbbing for his touch.
My back jerked against him; my legs spread farther apart. “Just like that. Now give me more.”
The arm that was on my breast moved up and tightened around my neck. His thumb rubbed over my lips, pressing into my mouth. I sucked his fingertip, my teeth gently dragging over his knuckle while my tongue circled it.
“Your mouth is going to get you in trouble,” he panted, “but that’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“I just want—” His fingers entered me, and my words morphed into a moan. My hands flattened against the wall to bear my weight.
“Fuck my fingers,” he ordered.
I moved my hips back and forth, grinding them in a circle so I could feel his fingertips twist inside me. The wall had become too slippery, so I reached behind me and surrounded his neck the same way he had surrounded mine. I ran my hands through his hair and pulled as hard as I could.
“Fuck them harder, Rae.”
His arm left my neck, and I felt another finger touching me, pressing on my clit and circling while I moved against him. With all his attention on my body, on the spots that could bring me to that place, I could focus on nothing other than getting there. I pumped faster as the build began to spark. My hands fell from his hair. The intensity in my stomach increased. I knew it would only take a few more passes before it would peak.
“You’re tightening around me, baby. I can feel how close you are…but you’re not going to come on my fingers.”
His hands left me completely.
The heat from him standing behind me was gone. Then his arms bent under my knees and around my waist as he picked me up. I flew through the cold air, this new sensation floating over my skin as we moved hurriedly into the bedroom. He tossed me onto the bed, the comforter turning damp from my hair and the drops rolling off my skin.
Hart disappeared briefly and returned with a small foil packet, licking between my legs as he put it on. “I can taste how close you were.”
My legs spread even wider. “Don’t stop.” I gripped the blanket between my fingers, the build once again threatening to peak. “Please… don’t stop.”
“You taste so fucking good.”
I ran my other hand through his hair, the strands slick from the shower. When I pulled them, he looked up at me with his piercing metallic gaze. His fingers were inside me; his tongue was flat against me, slowly moving up and dipping down before starting to climb again.
The ache was a teasing torture.
His fingers moved out and up to my navel, lightly pressing to feel how hard he was making me quiver. “Are you happy with just my tongue inside you…or do you want more?”
“More,” I breathed. “I want more.”
He climbed up my body, my legs automatically straddled his waist, his fingers pressing into the bed next to my neck and he filled me. Completely. Then he stayed still while I stretched to accommodate his size. With his mouth on my lips, his tongue delicately circled mine.
“I forgot how good this felt with you.”
This wasn’t the rushed, urgent grinding I had done to tease him in the shower. This was a slower, much more erotic pace. We flowed in and out of each other like water. His movements were all about pleasuring me, figuring out what he could do to drive me further. It was more than what he did between my legs; it was how he kissed me, how his hands navigated my body, how his mouth triggered passion in the same places his fingers drove out the pain.
“You’re so tight, I can feel you pulsing around my cock,” he said, pulling away from my lips. My back arched and his mouth dipped to my nipples just long enough for him to flick both. “I want you to come—now. For me.”
My body had already been so close so many times.
Those words were all I needed.
I felt the jolt as it built and exploded within my stomach, the rest of my body turning completely numb.
“Fuck, Rae…Fuck!” he screamed. As his thrusting quickened, his teeth nipped my bottom lip, and he sucked it into his mouth. He shuddered against me before he fell completely. Slowly unraveling from my body, he slid next to me on the bed and pulled me onto his chest.
I gently pushed down on his nipple, in the spot where I could feel the metal underneath. I remembered how the ends of each puncture spread to hold the rod. Those used to be some of his most sensitive spots.
“You used to love to bite on it,” he said, “especially when it was healing.” He was inside my head again. “Do you remember what our bet was?”
“Holy shit, that’s right.” The reason we had gotten the piercings was all over a bet. Once mine was done, Hart had decided to get one, too. He let me choose the spot, so I chose his nipple, out of spite. I didn’t expect to like it as much as I had. “I don’t remember what it was,” I said. I was sure it was over something silly, something that didn’t even matter from a time that had been so carefree. “But I’m glad I won.”
He lifted my hand and held the tips of my fingers against his lips. The warmth from his breath heated them. “You didn’t win.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No way,” he laughed, kissing the tops of my nails. “I never would have let you win. That doesn’t sound like me at all.” I nuzzled my face against his arm. His scar was just a few inches above my eyes. “My plan was t
o have more than just your belly button pierced. Had things lasted, you’d probably have holes all over your body.”
He could have punched rods through every part of me if that had meant he would have stayed in Bar Harbor.
But things hadn’t lasted.
And he’d broken my fucking heart. No piercing required.
My hand slowly crawled up his arm, resting on the thick white line that I traced back and forth.
Back and forth.
It somewhat resembled mine, though they felt nothing alike. Mine wasn’t a straight line; it was jagged and circular, rougher in the center where the skin had broken open and healed savagely.
“It was shoulder surgery,” he said, finally addressing it.
“I thought so.” It sounded like it was still painful for him. “We don’t have to talk about it.” I figured if we didn’t talk about his, I wouldn’t have to talk about mine.
“No, you should know.” He blew out a burst of air. It wasn’t a sigh. This was deeper, more emotional. “There was separation, complete tearing throughout. I dislocated my elbow, too. A whole bunch of damage. Four surgeries, and the end of a career that hadn’t even started.”
“And now?” I asked.
“It hurts worse when it rains.”
Scars and rain. We were more similar than I’d thought.
Mine also hurt worse when it rained, but for much different reasons. Hart didn’t know anything about my fear of an angry sky dropping its fury down on me. I hated to think what would happen when we finally discussed it.
“It also hurts when I think about what could have been,” he said.
I wasn’t going to try to spin that into something positive. My mom had done that when I’d been in the hospital, with my face and body trying to heal from everything that had happened. She kept telling me the stitches and scars would give me character. Yeah…real fucking character. Every time she spoke, I gave the narcotics pump a squeeze, hoping the dose would make me pass out so I wouldn’t have to listen to her anymore.