Jared helped Calla out of her seat and kept a gentle hand on the small of her back while guiding them after the man. Most of the party had already found their seats so the task was done without having to dodge, or sidestep anyone. They reached the table and Jared wished they’d remained at the single’s table.
“Jared! Calla!” His mom beamed. “Isn’t this great? We’re sharing a table.”
Calla smiled. “Should be fun!”
Jared did not share her sentiments, but eased out her chair and seated himself next to her.
The reception started with a meal of steak or chicken and continued with the father/daughter dance that was interrupted by Dan cutting in. Finally they watched as the cake was cut and distributed. It seemed like ages before the floor was opened to dancing. Jared leapt at the opportunity.
“Dance with me.”
He didn’t give her the chance to refuse. He took her fingers and guided her from her chair to the dance floor already crowded by other couples. He dragged her into his arm, not caring that it was a fast song. His palm settled on the bare skin of her back and he was delighted by her husky moan. Against him, she trembled and he drew her closer.
“Why do you fight me when your body responds so eagerly to mine?” he murmured into the side of her face.
She didn’t answer. But the fingers around his shoulders tightened. He didn’t push her, content in just holding her.
The night became a blur of laughter, dancing, and drinking past both their limits. Calla loosened up with every flute of champagne, becoming a little more like the girl he knew, the one that acted first and dealt with the consequences second. Whatever was holding her back seemed to disappear and she came alive in his arms.
“I think I’m drunk!” she announced, swaying into him and nearly upending her drink.
Jared caught her to him. “I think so, too.”
“Is that proper?” she wondered. “Are you allowed to get drunk at a funeral?”
Jared laughed. “We’re at a wedding.”
Calla’s eyes bulged in horror. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Wedding! Oh my God! Do you think anyone heard me?”
He didn’t give a shit. He was utterly enthralled by her.
“Do you want to sit down?” he offered instead.
“No.” Her arms shot around his shoulders. Something shattered behind him and he had a feeling she’d lost her glass. “I want to dance. I haven’t been this free in ages and I just want to forget everything.” She peered up at him with those unfocused blue eyes. “Help me forget, Jared.”
Fuck it.
Maybe it was the alcohol clouding his thoughts, or the fact that he’d been dying to taste her since they were sixteen, but he kissed her. He kissed her like he was drowning and she was the only source of air available. He kissed her with all the madness, need, and desperation pounding through him like a marching band. And she moaned deliciously and melted into him. Her arms tightened and she staggered up onto her toes for more. Her breasts crushed into the plane of his chest, the nipples hard and prodding despite the layers of clothes between them. She tasted like champagne and the chocolate off the cake. His already over intoxicated brain went straight into the red zone, the point of no return.
“Stop!” He viciously pried his mouth off hers. “Stop or God help me, I’ll take you right here.”
Eyes a stormy blue of all the emotions roaring through him, she stared up at him with her cheeks flushed and her lips a wet, swollen mockery driving him to madness.
“I’m not easy,” she whispered, her voice a hoarse croak.
Jared wanted to laugh, but couldn’t find the sense. “Jesus, baby, there’s nothing easy about you.”
Her lashes slipped to half-masts and she peered longingly at his mouth. “I haven’t been this drunk since we were sixteen.”
“When I told you I loved you.”
He remembered that night perfectly. She’d been wild and beautiful in her lavender dress as they ran through the fields, a stream of her laughter following them through the night. They’d just finished putting mayo filled condoms in Georgia May’s mailbox and had nearly gotten caught. Damon and Willa had run in the opposite direction. Jared had followed Calla. He’d watched her run, her blonde hair like gold streamers flying out behind her. It was never clear what possessed him to do it, but he’d grabbed her, spun her around and kissed her, right there under a sky full of stars. She had tasted like Jack Daniels and cherry lip balm and smelled like chocolate.
“I love you, Calla McClain,” he’d told her.
She’d laughed that high tinkling laugh of hers. “Never took you for a sappy drunk, Dumont.”
He had started to tell her he wasn’t that drunk, but Damon and Willa had taken that moment to find them and the moment was lost. He’d gone to her house the next day, but without the liquid courage, the words had lodged in his throat. There was just no right time after that when she’d gone off to university.
“I didn’t believe you,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Sadness took over the fine contours of her face. “I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had.”
“We can still find out,” he said.
She shook her head, her eyes a little too bright. “It’s too late.”
He cradled the side of her face. “Why do you say that?”
“I did something horrible.” Her voice was barely a whisper around her trembling lip. “I don’t deserve to be happy. I don’t deserve you.”
Anger flared through him. His hand slid to the back of her head and he pulled her mouth back to his.
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Chapter Seven ~ Calla
It was the agonizing pain that woke her the next morning. It was the violent drumming inside her skull and the taste of carpet in her mouth. The world was a sickening smear of white that burned the eyes and wrenched at the pit of her stomach where the cute, and very tasty, cucumber cups were making a comeback. Across her chest, a weight crushed her lungs. Another had settled over her thighs. She was pinned to the mattress by her own weakness.
Dear God, I swear never to drink again if you let me get through this without choking on my own vomit.
It was a promise she was almost certain she would keep, simply for the fact that she rarely ever drank, so in the scheme of things, it seemed like a safe bet. The previous night had been a unique situation captained by memories of days when she actually knew how to have fun, when it hadn’t been a chore.
For a moment, there was nothing but the grinding shrill of a cement chipper chiseling away at the cavity of her brain and her own miserable suffering. Then there was a grunt, a low, husky grunt that, any other time, would have been damn sexy. But in that moment, in her bed, it was so very out of place.
Calla’s eyes popped open. She stared at the ceiling, ignoring the screams of her eyelids and retina. It was incredible that even her eyelashes hurt. Yet that didn’t stop her from sliding her eyeballs ever so slightly to the left in hopes of catching a glimpse of her bedmate without looking directly at him.
As subtle as her movements were, her partner shifted. The pressure on her chest eased as the weight was lifted. Something long, hard, and unmistakable prodded her hip. And that was the last straw.
Calla wrenched free and gracelessly tumbled out of bed, taking the sheets with her.
“Get up!” she shrieked. “Whoever you are, get up and out of my bed!”
By the time she had shoved tendrils of lank, blonde hair out of her eyes and straightened the sheets securely around her aching body—not all the aches bad, she noted—her partner had flopped onto his stomach and lay sprawled across the mattress like he owned the whole damn bed.
He was naked and he was fucking hot from what she could make out. Everything from the taut globes of his behind, to the long, corded lengths of his legs and the enormous, muscular width of his back was designed to make a woman purr. The arms he’d bunched around her helpless pillow strained with unr
estricted bulges and thick corded veins. The head nuzzled into her pillow was capped with a mop of neatly trimmed, sandy brown hair and there were claw marks, long, jagged welts along the back of his neck and down the entire span of his spine. There were even little half-moons gouged into his ass cheeks.
Dear God, she’d owned him, or he’d owned her. It was impossible to tell, because with the way her body was thrumming, like it had just run a very insane, very satisfying sex marathon, they had done some serious damage to each other.
“Okay.” Forcing a tongue over her suddenly dry lips, she shoved four fingers back through her tangled hair and ogled him a moment longer. “You need to leave. Like now. Before my husband gets home and beats the hell out of you.”
For several long seconds, there was nothing. Not even a twitch to indicate he hadn’t passed right out again. Then there was a sound like a snort, followed by a quiver that ran down the back she was watching. It took her alcohol violated brain a full minute to realize he was laughing.
“Husband?”
Long arms unwound from their death grip on her pillow and strained as they anchored into her mattress with bunched fists. The ropes along his back bunched and rolled as he heaved all that magnificent-ness onto one side. And Calla’s whole world dipped.
“You?”
Jared squinted at her through one eye not crusted with sleep. “Morning.”
Confusion had her voice rising several octaves. “What are you doing in my bed?”
“At the moment? Waiting for you to come back.”
It was tempting, especially when he was reclined on his side like that with his morning erection at full mast bobbing against his chiseled abdomen. The curls around the base were soft and the same sandy brown as the strands on his head. It led a fine, dark trail up his stomach to thin off just beneath his naval. The rest of him … God, the rest of him was a masterpiece. All sinewy muscle and toned definition. He was a work of edible art.
“Did we…?” Of course they had, multiple times if the soreness between her legs was anything to take into account. “Oh my God…”
Turning away, she began scavenging for her clothes, which were littered all over the bedroom like confetti at a wedding.
Fucking weddings!
“Get up!” she barked. “You need to…” She pitched him his trousers. “Get dressed and get out.”
“Calla…” He got a face full of his dress shirt. “Calla!” he said again, ripping the shirt off his head. “Stop for a minute.”
“No!” But she stopped and stood at the foot of the bed, breathing hard and trying her hardest not to burst into tears. “I can’t … I can’t believe I let this happen!”
“Baby.” He started towards her.
Calla jerked away. “You need to leave. Please!” Her voice hitched. “I can’t do this.”
She left him kneeling on her bed and bolted into the bathroom. She snapped the lock into place and slumped against the door. The tears came immediately in a steady river of all the pain suffocating her. She slid to the floor in a heap of limbs and fabric.
There was a thump on the other side, then the sound of something sliding down the length of the wood.
“I’m not going anywhere, Cal.” His voice was right near her head, like he was sitting just on the other side. “I’m not letting you shut me out. If that means sitting out here until you come out … well, that’s what I’m going to do. I don’t care how long it takes.”
She didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. The void deep inside her had consumed everything but a dull, numbing cold that was slowly eating her alive. Not because she’d slept with Jared. God knew she’d wanted to do nothing else for the better part of a year. But because she’d let him get that close without ever telling him who the person he was sleeping with was.
“Do you remember when we were kids and you would drag us to the pond, even though your mom told us not to go there?”
Sniffling, Calla frowned across the short expense of her bathroom to the tub a mere three feet away.
Jared went on without an answer from her.
“Do you remember daring us to jump off the cliff into the water to see who was braver?” He chuckled softly. “Damon never fell for it and he never let you boss Willa into doing it, but me … I never told you this, but I am scared shitless of heights. I fucking hate them. But I followed you up that stupid cliff, going higher each time until I was sure I’d crap myself. I wasn’t trying to prove I was brave, or that I was better than a girl. I just didn’t want you to go up there alone. That’s how long I’ve loved you, Calla McClain.”
The air lodged in Calla’s chest, making it impossible to breathe around the sob that wrenched out. Most of it was muffled in her knees, but the rest filled the cramped space in broken gasps.
“I don’t know what you think you’ve done that was so bad, and maybe you won’t believe me, but there is nothing you could tell me that will change how I feel about you. I don’t think you understand how infinite my love is for you.”
It was unclear what possessed her to move. But her body scooted sideways into the cupboards under the sink and she wrenched open the bathroom door. It swung inward until there was nothing between her and the man on the other side.
He sat clad only in the trousers she’d thrown at him with his shoulder propped against the doorframe. His gray eyes lifted to her face, glinting with everything his words promised. They made her insides hurt.
Calla stayed in her huddled position against the cupboard, facing him. Her arms tightened around her raised knees and she pulled them closer to her chest.
“You shouldn’t say that,” she whispered when it was clear he had said his piece. “None of that. You…” She bit her lip and stared down at the tips of her red toes peeking out from beneath the sheets. “You can’t invest in me. I’m like an old car, all broken and rusted and … I’m not repairable.”
He shifted closer and stopped when he was directly in front of her with his knees inches from her toes. His head cocked to the side and he peered at her until she had no choice but to get lost in his eyes.
“Would you invest in me?”
Calla blinked. She stared at him for a full heartbeat before finding words to speak.
“It’s not the same—”
“Would you invest in me?” he repeated slowly, annunciating each word very carefully.
She started to shake her head. “Jared, it’s not—”
“Would you?” he demanded, leaving no room for anything but an answer.
“Yes!” she shot back. “But—”
He skimmed the side of her face with loving fingertips.
“Why?”
“But—”
“Calla!” He cupped her chin. “Answer me.”
“Because I love you!” she snapped at him. Instinctively, her teeth caught her bottom lip as the weight of her outburst hit her. But it was too late to take it back. She swallowed audibly. “I love you,” she repeated more quietly.
There was no surprise in his expression, just a sort of knowing that reflected in the softness of his eyes and the gentle curl of his lips.
“Would you still love me if it was my past?”
He didn’t understand. He thought it was so simple, so black and white when it was so complicated and blinding.
“Calla.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. There is no problem I won’t help fix. Just tell me what it is.”
“No.” She twisted her face out of his touch. “I can’t.”
He sat back and crossed his legs. “You tell me not to get invested, but I already am. I’m invested in your smiles and in the sound of your laugh. I’m invested in your scent and the way you make the whole world a little brighter when you walk into a room. I’m invested in the future of us. Whatever happened before isn’t going to change that. The only thing I care about is you giving us a chance.”
She wanted it. God, she had never wanted anything
more in her life. She wanted to grab hold of everything he was offering with both hands and never let go. She wanted to crawl into his lap and just spill it all onto his broad shoulders. She ached to tell him, to unburden the weight suffocating her. But the terror she felt at the thought of losing him made her insides coil.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she whispered. “There will always be a part of me, a dark, ugly part of me that I may never be able to give you. Not today. Maybe not ever. Can you live with that?”
He was back in her personal space. His hands were back on her face, cradling it between rough palms as though she were made of fine china. His eyes were pools of intense determination boring mercilessly into hers.
“You might not be ready today, or tomorrow, but when you are, I’ll be right here.”
He left her alone to shower. She spent most of that time standing beneath the spray, wondering if she’d done the right thing. While he swore it wouldn’t change his mind, she couldn’t help doubting it. Her secret wasn’t simple, or sweet. It was dark and twisted and painful in a way that broke her heart over and over again every time she thought about it. Another more sadistic part of her wondered if it mattered. She’d already experienced every inch of hell. Would losing Jared really make a dent in comparison? And she realized yes. Not having him was a whole different brand of agony. One she wasn’t wholly certain she could ever recover from.
But she would try. Maybe it was time. The wounds would never heal, but maybe giving herself this single ounce of pleasure would act like a balm and soothe some of the burn. Jared might not ever take that pain away, but she needed help moving forward.
He was standing in her kitchen when she emerged nearly thirty minutes later clad in black tights and an off the shoulder sweater in soft teal. The color brought out her eyes, not that that mattered now. He was dressed in his dress shirt and trousers. His feet were in his socks. He stood over her sink, peering out the window at the sidewalk below. She wondered what he was thinking. She wondered if he was regretting his decision. She wondered…
Be My Baby Page 9