by Marie James
“Care to explain the half?” Why the fuck did I say that shit?
“Not a chance,” I say flatly. Why I open my mouth and can’t control what comes out when I’m around her, I have no idea.
“I shared my story with you,” she pouts.
“There is a huge difference in being a survivor and creating your own personal shit storm.”
“Will you tell me about your wife?” She changes the subject, and I can honestly say I don’t know if this one is any better than the one we’re leaving behind.
“I’ve told you a little about how we first got together. It just went from there. We went to the same college. Got a house together before we finished sophomore year. We wanted to spend every second together, and that was the only way. Her dorm was very strict and my roommate? Well, let’s just say he was creepy and made her feel uncomfortable. We were spending so much each month on hotel rooms so we could be with each other; we just decided to rent a house instead.” I laugh at the memory. “We actually saved money with renting.”
She laughs too but doesn’t speak.
“I went to work for my father after college. She went to school longer than I did. She was an LPC at a children’s advocacy center.”
“LPC?” She asks.
“Licensed Professional Counselor,” I answer. “She spoke with and counseled children who had been abused, both physically and sexually.”
“You guys didn’t have kids?” Her question is just that, a question. She’s not grilling me or trying to put me on the spot, but that doesn’t change the fact that it does. I feel like the spotlight is shining right down on me.
“Savannah didn’t want children. She said she saw such pain and horrendous stuff at work. She couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world where it could be victimized.”
The silence seems to stretch on forever. “But what did you want?” she whispers.
“I wanted Savannah,” I answer.
In truth? I always wanted children. We argued about it more than once. It was a conversation we’d had on more than one occasion. Before we got married, she couldn’t wait to have my baby. Then she started her job, and all talks of children were off the table. She’d never consider it again.
If we’d had a baby, I’d still have some part of her left, and maybe life wouldn’t be so hard right now.
Don’t even try to pretend that you aren’t taking other liberties to keep her memory alive.
I shift my weight under her, so she knows I want to get up. She sits up but stays on the couch beside me. I turn my body on the couch, placing both feet on the floor, and stare into the fire.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she says softly at my side.
“You didn’t, it’s just…” I run my hands roughly through my hair. “I got a lot of shit I have to work through. I haven’t really been successful at dealing with all of this shit.”
She just nods gently and looks back into the fire. “I’m going to go to bed. It’s getting late.” She stands and turns toward the stairs.
“Yeah, I think I’ll turn in too,” I say and stand beside her.
We walk up the stairs and linger briefly outside her door. I want to grab her hand and take her to my room with me and just hold her all night, but I can’t tell if it’s something that she wants.
“Goodnight, London,” I say softly as she reaches for her door knob.
“Goodnight, Kadin.” She closes the door behind her without another word.
I feel like I fucked something up between us but have no clue how or what it even was. I got to my room and made sure the door is cracked in case she wants to join me later, and I pray she does. I sleep better when she’s near.
I don’t know why he freaked out when I asked about kids. It was a simple question. It flowed easily into the conversation. He’s in his thirties. Don’t married people usually have kids by this time?
It felt so good lying in his arms, and I never wanted to get up. Life seems simple here with him, no other outside influences. I know it can’t last forever. He’s not mine; he made sure I knew that. Why am I even thinking that?
It’s your MO. My mind answers.
Jump from one guy straight to the next. No pause in between. No time on my own to see if I can even make it by myself. The thought terrifies me, almost as much as sleeping with a man I have no future with; a man who has been nothing but upfront about what is going on.
I didn’t miss the brief pause at the top of the stairs like he wanted to join me or ask me to join him in his room. I did the only thing I could think to do at the time, and that’s to run. Get away from him to avoid whatever happened downstairs and tomorrow I will just pretend like it never happened. Classic London.
Today has been one of the most emotionally draining days of my life. I’m exhausted yet I’m tossing and turning in this bed and sleep is evading me at every turn. Frustrated, I get out of bed and pad quietly to the door. Opening it slowly I look across the hall, and notice Kadin’s bedroom door is cracked.
I wonder if I can slide into his bed and then leave by morning time like he did and him not notice.
Deciding to do it even if he does catch me I tiptoe across the hall and stick my head in his door. His room is extremely dark, but I feel my way along from memory of being in here earlier.
“Hey,” he whispers just as I draw my knee up to climb on the bed.
I freeze, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. If I pretend to be invisible then maybe I will be.
He chuckles softly. “Come here,” he says huskily.
I climb on the bed and under the covers he’s holding up for me. I lie across his chest without even being invited and wrap my arm around his waist.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I explain.
“Me either,” he acknowledges and begins to run a calming hand up and down my spine.
I almost tell him that I’m so used to being in bed with someone and that’s why I’m having trouble falling asleep, but I don’t think that would be well received. I don’t want him to think I miss Trent because I don’t. Well, not as much as I probably should considering we’d been together for six years.
I’m not surprised how fast I settle into him and how quickly I grow relaxed, my eyes fluttering closed and my breathing calming.
I’m right on the cusp of sleep when he whispers, “I don’t miss her as much when you’re in my arms.”
I smile against his chest and welcome unconsciousness.
I wake to the feel of Kadin’s fingers grazing my sex over my panties. I didn’t even bother getting dressed last night when I snuck in here. A tank top and a tiny pair of panties are all I have on, and if the feel of Kadin’s thick, bare cock against my thigh is any indication he went to bed with even less than I did.
“Is this okay?” He asks softly, noticing that I’m no longer completely asleep.
I smile and nod. Then I stretch as inconspicuously as possible to increase the pressure his fingers have on me. He chuckles lightly; obviously not as inconspicuous as I’d hoped.
I watch him with heavily lusty eyes as he slides my panties to the side and sweeps his large finger over me, coating his digit with the arousal he must have conjured before I woke up. He bites his lip, and it makes me moan.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs to himself. I smile hearing the words I’m not sure he meant to vocalize.
His head sweeps down, and his wicked tongue lashes out at the nipple straining against my tank top. This man is sex personified and almost has me coming in a matter of minutes with very little effort. As much as I’d love to come apart right now, I also want to please him just as much.
My center clenched at the memory of him in my mouth yesterday. I’m nearly drooling to do it again.
I shift out from under him and push him onto his back. I know he’s allowing me to do it. There’s no way I’d ever have a chance to overpower him. He falls to the center of his bed and smirks at me. A look that says ‘now what are you going to
do with me?’
I nip his chin with my teeth then run my tongue from his ear to his shoulder, stopping my mouth periodically to taste his skin with a closed mouth, gently sucking at his skin but making sure not to mark him. He’s gripping the sheet with both hands like he’s fighting the urge to take control of the situation, but he also turns his head and moans slightly.
Closing my lips, I run them over the softness of his chest hair, flicking my tongue out at his nipple as I inch lower. He jerks slightly, and it makes me smile. Feeling adventurous, I nip at it with my teeth. His moan is louder, this time, so I lick and bite him exactly how I like my nipples to be stimulated. It seems he’s a fan of it too.
I work my way further down his body, making sure to drag my highly sensitive breasts over his skin. I line them up perfectly and tilt my head down to watch his thick erection peeking through the top. The friction of his hot skin on mine is glorious. He groans, loudly, when I open my mouth and take him to the back of my throat from the very first contact. I’m rewarded with a quick burst of precome, and I swallow it down like it’s a lifesaving liquid. I groan at the taste as I drag my suctioned mouth to the tip of him.
I make the mistake of looking up at him on my next downward stroke. I grow still on him when I see the lust in his eyes. They’re heavy and hardly open; his lips are parted slightly, and short puffs of breath are escaping from his mouth. He’s clearly just as hot for me as my body is for him. The cold air on my wet, overheated center is reminding me of what I’m missing. What I need.
I pull my mouth off of him, and he looks momentarily disappointed until I lick up his shaft and begin to lick my way back up his body. For the first time since we got started, he releases the sheets and reaches for me. I watch with fascination on my knees as he stands himself up at my center. I’m entranced at the sight, knowing that such an amazing piece of him is fixing to plant itself inside of me.
His other hand grips my hips. “Please go slow,” he begs.
His words draw my attention away from our imminent connection and up to his dreamy chocolate eyes. Slowly I lower myself onto him and watch his face as I take him inside. He hisses loudly, and I smile with feminine triumph at his response.
I place my hands on his wide chest for leverage and raise myself back off of him agonizingly slow, only to sink back down even slower. Delicious torture.
Unable to do as he wishes I arch my back and begin to bounce my hips, sliding him in and out of my aching core faster. I groan; so does he.
“Fuck, London,” he gasps.
I take his praise appreciatively by increasing the speed of my hips. Both of his hands are on my hips and I can tell by his grip that he wants me to slow down, but I just smirk down at him.
“No,” he pants harshly and before I can squeak in surprise he has me flipped over on my back and pinned to the mattress by the weight of his body.
I bite my bottom lip and flutter my eyelashes at him. He laughs which causes his cock to jerk inside of me. I moan in response, closing my eyes.
He lifts some of his weight off of me, and I whimper at the loss. “Are you okay?” He whispers, and I nod marginally. “I don’t want to scare you.” I know he’s afraid I’ll freak out after telling him about the assaults I suffered from Brian. I could never confuse the two, but he doesn’t know that.
He withdraws a fraction, and I close my eyes at the sensation. “Look at me,” he begs. “Know that it’s me pleasing you.” I groan when he drives in deep and swivels his hips, rubbing perfectly inside and out. “Know that I’m the one inside of you.” He shifts back a few inches only to slam back in. “Say it, London.”
I whimper in pleasure. “You,” I whisper.
“My name,” he grunts, sliding slowly in and out from tip to base. “I want to hear it when you come.”
He reaches between us and masterfully flicks his rough fingers against my clit. He’s holding my eyes hostage, daring me to look away.
“Oh please!” I bite my lip in complete blissed-out appreciation of his skills.
“Come for me, London.” It’s a command, not a simple request.
My body obeys immediately. “Kadin! Oh God!”
My core spasms around him, gripping him uncontrollably, simultaneously begging him to continue and stop all in one.
“London,” he groans, rewarding me with his praise for my body and what I’m able to do for him.
He wrenches from my body and releases on my stomach. I smile down at the hot jets of come as they splatter on my body. I’m honored that I can please him.
“Jesus,” he mumbles as he strokes his cock, squeezing the last bit of his orgasm from the tip.
He leans over me on knees and elbows and takes my mouth in a passionate kiss, whispering praise against my lips. I smile as he begins to nip at my chin and neck. I groan when his thickening length grazes my clit.
As much as I’d like for round two to start immediately on the heels of the first round, I’m covered in come and a sticky mess.
“Shower,” I whisper in his ear.
He grumbles, but backs away, pulling me up as he goes. Never releasing my hand, he walks us into his en-suite and turns on the shower. We kiss gently outside of the glass and wait for the steam to rise, informing us that the water is warm enough for us to get in.
He grabs a natural sponge from the built-in cubby and squirts a generous amount of manly smelling shower gel in the center.
“Turn around,” he says huskily, no doubt still ready for round two if the full erection jutting from his hips is any indication.
I falter in my actions, knowing what he’s going to see.
“Turn,” he gently commands. He doesn’t touch me, and I inwardly smile that he’s allowing me to make the choice.
I take a deep breath and turn to face the wall, placing my hands on the tile for support. I wait for the coarse feel of the sponge in his hand, but it never comes. Instead, I feel his hot breath first then the touch of his tender lips as he kisses my shoulder. He trails kisses down my spine until he reaches my scars; then his hands graze gently over where I know the worst of the damage is.
“You’re beautiful.” Kiss. “And brave.” Kiss. “Your scars, they make you beautifully flawed. They make you perfect.”
Tears of happiness stream down my face as this man tells me exactly what I never knew that I needed to hear. Standing in the shower of a cabin, with a man I’ve only known for a few days, I heal completely from every wrong that I’ve suffered. I am whole. I am complete.
With the exception of food, showers, and an amazing round of sex against the wall, we’ve spent the past twenty-four hours in this bed. London’s warm body is wrapped around mine like a second skin. It feels too good; too familiar for only having known her for a handful of days. I know I could stay like this for the duration of my vacation, and that’s exactly why I’m slowly sliding out from underneath her.
Waking up thinking about her? Bad. Waking up wanting her? Bad. Waking up needing her? Extremely dangerous.
I throw on a pair of sweats and head downstairs to make coffee. We should probably stay as far away as possible from any beds today. Didn’t need a bed when you took her against the wall, or when you bent her over in the shower.
My dick twitches in my sweats and my balls grow heavier at the memories. I groan and open the fridge to get some fruit out. I don’t think I’ll ever come back to this cabin and not think about London and the things we’ve done. We both confirmed that sex is all this is, but holy shit is it beyond amazing. I find myself praying another blizzard hits, and we’re stuck here for a month.
The more I hope for that, the more I wonder if she’s only staying because she can’t leave. There’s only one way to find out, and as nervous as I am about it, I know she needs the option of being able to leave. I can’t imagine loving anyone besides Savannah, but I’m also not looking forward to watching London walk away.
It’s bad enough I’ve already started comparing London and Savannah. London cooks, wher
eas Savannah couldn’t boil water. London doesn’t even take half the time getting ready for the day as Savannah did; I explain this away because London knows she is only going to be around the house and not going out into the public. Savannah snored, and London sleeps very quietly, with only the occasional whimper, but I chalk that up to her abusive past and some things just don’t ever go away.
I shouldn’t compare them at all and every time so far the thoughts have come unbidden. I understand why it does. Savannah and London are the only women I’ve slept with, well sober. The other woman. Fuck, that’s a mess. Maybe knowing I have to go back home and clear that shit up is another reason why I want just to stay here and get lost in London.
It hasn’t snowed now for almost two days, and I know what I have to do even though the outcome may not be what I particularly want.
Picking up my cell phone, I notice that I actually have reception and won’t have to go back upstairs and disturb London to get the satellite phone.
I dial the office, and it’s answered on the second ring. “Hello, Mr. Cole. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Lisa. I need you to arrange a snow plow to come clear the driveway at the cabin and get a car out of the ditch by my front gate.” I hear her typing the note, and I wait for her to finish.
“Time frame?”
“Immediately,” I answer.
“Budget?”
“No matter the cost, Lisa. I just need it cleared.”
“Yes, sir. Anything else?”
“No, Lisa. I think that’s it.”
“Should we expect you back before the next storm hits?”
“Next storm?” This sounds promising. “What are the predictions?”
“They’re saying the next will be much worse than the one you got last week. Information online expects it to hit Monday evening.” She provides the information and then remains quiet after that.
“I’ll inform you of my plans as I make them.”
“Very well, sir.”
I have one of the best assistants money can buy. Unfortunately for me, she’s over eight months pregnant and doesn’t plan to come back to work after the baby is born. Finding a new assistant. It’s another thing that has been overlooked in my grief.