Bad Boys After Dark: Carson (Bad Billionaires After Dark Book 3)

by Melissa Foster

  He took her in a punishingly intense kiss. A kiss to erase the questions in his mind about other men she’d been with since her husband. He intensified the kiss as he slid his fingers forward, soaking them with her arousal. He returned to the place that made her body tremble, teasing over her puckered flesh. She pressed her hips back against his hand, and he withdrew from between her legs.

  He pushed his other hand into her hair and grabbed hold. “Are you mine for these five nights?” he asked roughly, wanting so much more.

  “Yes,” she said pleadingly.

  “No running away.”

  “No,” she said breathlessly. “I promise.”

  His love for her was all-consuming, urging him to give her everything she wanted. But he fought against it. There were lines he’d wait to cross until he was sure she was really his. She watched him intently as he took her hands and kissed each wrist the way he used to do before he bound them. He held both of her hands in one of his and reached for his dress shirt.

  TAWNY’S BODY WAS on fire, her erratic heartbeat evident in the fast rise and fall of her breasts, as she watched Carson reaching for his dress shirt. He had been fit in college, but that was nothing compared to the strong man standing before her. Broad shoulders tapered in a heavily muscled V to the waist of his slacks. His shoulders and biceps flexed deliciously as he shook out his shirt and turned to face her. His handsome face was a mask of control, but even his serious dark eyes couldn’t hide his primal hunger.

  She drew in a deep breath, anticipating his shirt being wound around her wrists. She’d been frightened by the intensity of her desires when they were in college, when the mere touch of silk, the graze of his teeth on her flesh, would bring her to the verge of orgasm. Her need for their Sunday-night rendezvous had become an obsession, consuming her every thought. Just thinking about what they did together had made her wet and needy. She’d found herself fantasizing instead of paying attention in class, and when she and Carson had studied together toward the end of their time as lovers, she could barely hold herself together. She couldn’t afford to be sidetracked, having secured a full academic scholarship, and that lack of control and fractured focus had frightened her. She’d thought she’d done the right thing by ending that part of their relationship, but even after, when they’d continued as friends, the heat never went away. She’d thought when she married Keith and moved to Chicago, cutting ties with Carson, her desires would eventually lessen, but they’d only grown stronger. And now she was practically salivating at the thought of Carson wrapping his dress shirt around her wrists, as he’d done so many times before.

  She pressed her hands together and lifted them. Take me, Carson. Please, take me.

  He inhaled an almost indiscernible breath, the one that let her know he’d made some kind of decision. It was a sigh she’d noticed the first night they’d studied together, one she couldn’t miss. She didn’t think he even realized he made it, though it preceded most of his bigger decisions. He reached behind her and draped his shirt around her shoulders, holding her steady as he bent to pick up her dress. She lifted each foot to free the material, confused by this turn of events.

  He settled a hand on her lower back. “It’s late, and we both need time to process this.”

  “But…?” She grasped for words. “Carson, I want this. I want you. That’s why I’m here. To see…”

  He gazed into her eyes, hurt lingering beneath his perfectly honed mask of control, which kept others at bay. That fateful night came rushing back. The incessant knocking at the door that had come when she’d been blindfolded and bound to his bedposts. She’d heard Carson send the woman away, but being caught in such a vulnerable position had stopped her cold. She’d known about his other trysts, and she’d somehow put them in a place in her mind where she could deal with them. Denial was a magnificent thing. But that nameless, faceless woman hadn’t been the reason Tawny had ended things. It was the control those nights had over the rest of her life. That momentary interruption had simply given her an out, an excuse—and she’d taken it. Blaming his string of women and inability to commit—something she’d never asked him to do—had been an excuse he could understand. She knew he’d respected her enough to accept the renewed delineation in their friendship, and when she’d asked that they go back to being only friends, he’d agreed. That was when she’d found Keith. Safe, reliable, vanilla Keith.

  She’d regretted ending her affair with Carson since the very second the words had left her lips, but she never imagined she’d hurt him.

  Now he silently guided her toward the stairs, his way of telling her he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. She should respect his need for time and maybe even be thankful for the space to come to grips with, and try to understand, how quickly her desires had consumed her. But the first of her five nights was slipping through her fingers, and every hour without him would feel like a lifetime. She needed more in order to gain perspective on their relationship, or she’d be caught in this web of desire forever.

  “Carson, I know this is out of the blue, but can we talk about it?” she asked as they ascended the stairs.

  “Absolutely.” He led her into a beautiful bedroom.

  He turned her in his arms, the muscles in his neck and face corded tight. She knew that look of sexual repression. Hell, she’d mastered it.

  “Tomorrow,” he said evenly.

  Carson wasn’t exactly stubborn, but once he made up his mind about something, only reason would convince him otherwise. The trouble was, she had no rational reason for needing to have the conversation tonight, beyond her own selfish need for a resolution to her feelings. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the fast, steady beat of his heart.

  “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced,” she said softly.

  He tipped her chin up, smiling down at her and healing the fissure that was quickly tearing at her insides.

  “I’m not at all sorry that you showed up—announced or unannounced. I just…” He clenched his jaw. “I’ll bring your things up. There are clean towels in the linen closet in the bathroom if you want to take a hot bath and relax.”

  “Thank you.” You remembered. Of course he remembered. Beyond the hurt and desire, she saw the man she’d fallen in love with so long ago. Caring, thoughtful, never-miss-a-thing Carson. Not that they’d spent many nights sleeping over at each other’s places, but Carson had always pampered her. After they made love, he’d draw a warm bubble bath and climb in with her, carefully washing her, rubbing the soreness from her muscles, making her feel wanted and loved. She’d missed that, too. She’d thought all men would be that thoughtful, but she’d quickly learned that wasn’t the case.

  “My bedroom’s right down the hall.”

  Her heart sank. She understood not wanting to take things further tonight, but she’d thought she’d at least be in his arms. “This isn’t your bedroom?”

  He shook his head and held her face between his hands. “Tawny, you’re here. I’m not sending you away or disregarding you. I shouldn’t have taken things as far as I did downstairs, but…” He paused, brows knitted. “I want you here, but I can’t take you into my bed until I understand the whole story.” He kissed her softly. “Sleep well.”

  She watched him disappear down the hall, and for a moment she was thrown back in time to the party that had changed everything. Girls had been all over him from the minute he’d walked in. She’d gone to a few parties in college with her other friends, but they were more like gatherings to watch a movie or have pizza. They certainly were not the caliber of the party she’d attended with Carson, where kids were practically having sex out in the open. She remembered how nervous those other girls had made her, and the way Carson had tucked her safely beneath his arm. He’d never left her side, had included her in every conversation, and when he’d hauled her against him, dancing seductively, much of that nervousness had subsided. Being in his arms that night had been the start of a never-ending love affair. But was it real? Or
were her emotions getting the better of her again?

  She took a long hot bath, trying to clear her mind. As she dried off, she remembered how he used to help her from the tub, carefully drying her before tending to himself. She heard his shower running on the other side of the wall and pictured his hard body beneath the warm spray. Had he taken things into his own hands to ease his needs?

  As she dried off, the sound of his shower silenced. She stared at the wall, wishing she were in the steamy bathroom with him. She was supposed to be figuring things out, not falling into bed with him.

  She found her suitcase and purse on the bed. A note from Carson lay on top of one of his neatly folded T-shirts. Her heart pumped a little harder knowing he remembered how she used to love wearing his shirts. She read his neatly scripted note.

  I’m glad you’re here.

  Simple. Direct. Carson.

  My Carson.

  She pressed his soft shirt to her face, inhaling deeply. He must have carried it against his chest, because it smelled like him. She slipped it over her head, put on a clean pair of panties, and sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about what he’d said. I want you here, but I can’t take you into my bed until I understand the whole story.

  She didn’t know the whole story. How could she? She’d had no idea what to expect when she’d come to see him. She’d gone ten years craving him, not just a different type of sexual relationship. He’d been a permanent fixture in her life, even though he wasn’t physically present. He was the invisible man in her bedroom, the voice whispering in her ear as she chose lingerie, towels, and bedsheets. Even in college, Carson had been particular about having soft, smooth textures against his skin.

  Most of the time, she mused.

  She ran her hand over the luxurious bedspread, trying to keep from wondering how many women had been in that bed.

  In his bed.

  She didn’t even know if he was in another relationship. Her stomach clenched at that.

  Yes, I do. I do know.

  He never would have said, When five nights pass, you won’t want to get out of my bed, if he hadn’t meant it. And when she paired that with his comment about needing to understand the whole story, she saw him even more clearly. He was protecting himself from being hurt again. She wrapped her arms around her middle, feeling sick over having hurt him in the first place.

  The control their sexual relationship had held over her hadn’t dwindled one bit. It had gotten stronger, hotter, even more compelling than before. But she’d gotten stronger, too. She’d set out to gain perspective, but now all she needed was Carson.

  Her phone vibrated, and she dug it out of her bag. Keith’s name flashed on the screen, and she sighed. Carson hadn’t been the only thing that had driven a wedge between her and Keith. From the time Tawny was a teenager, she’d volunteered tutoring children who were in the foster care system, and she’d continued during college. While other kids had spent their weekends partying, she’d spent her time acting like an older sister to little boys and girls. After she and Keith had married, she’d wanted to begin fostering children, but Keith hadn’t been interested. He’d thought they would be taking on someone else’s problems. Wasn’t that the point? Those someone elses had left behind children who needed love. When she’d moved to Paris, she’d begun volunteering at an orphanage, and she’d done more than tutor. She’d fallen in love with a little girl named Adeline. Over the course of two years, they’d gotten tremendously close. Tawny had been teaching her English since they first met, and Adeline had soaked it up like a sponge. Without Keith to hold her back, Tawny had even allowed herself to think about fostering Adeline, but she worked too many hours to care for her properly.

  Her phone rang again with a call from Keith. She answered, and before she could say hello, Keith said, “Hey. I was worried.”

  If she was ever going to figure out her life and move forward, it was time to define very clear boundaries with Keith.

  “I’m sorry, and I’m fine. Keith, I appreciate your concern, but we’ve talked about my needing space to move on, and I think you need to focus your energies elsewhere.”

  “Tawny, when you get hurt, you’re going to need my support.”

  She’d never told him anything about her and Carson’s relationship other than the fact that they were good friends who had studied together. She’d never even admitted to sleeping with him. That was too private a detail to share, but she knew he’d surmised as much. When she and Keith had divorced, he’d told her that he’d known she was always in love with Carson and she hadn’t denied it. She might have spent a decade confused, but she wasn’t a liar.

  “I know you think I will,” Tawny said. “But I’m a big girl, Keith. I can pick myself up and carry on. I’ve done it before. I’m sorry for not being the woman you needed, and I take that blame with a great amount of regret. You deserved more from a wife. But now it’s time for me to be the woman I need to be. And I can’t do that while I’m still tethered to you.”

  They talked for a few minutes, and though Keith tried to convince her otherwise, when they hung up, Tawny felt like she’d finally been unleashed from another part of her past that had been holding her back.

  She pushed to her feet and peered out of the bedroom. The house was quiet as she walked down the hall and stood outside Carson’s bedroom door, needing to be in his arms. She wanted to apologize and say all the things she should have told him back in college. She heard him pacing, and her stomach tumbled. What if while he was processing, he decided he didn’t want to go where they’d already gone? What if he thought it was a mistake to invite her home with him?

  She turned away from the door, her arms crossed over her churning stomach.

  I didn’t come all this way to chicken out.

  Drawing in a deep breath—she was living on deep breaths lately—she reminded herself that the only way to get through this was to face it head-on. Fear tiptoed in again with the possibility of this intrusion going wrong. She drew her shoulders back, knowing she should not need a man to feel whole. She had enough money to buy anything she’d ever need. She had a unique skill set that separated her from others, and a solid job, even if it wasn’t the one she truly wanted. She should walk right back to her bedroom and deal with it in the morning, when she wasn’t tired and all revved up. But right then what she should do, and reality, were a world apart. She’d been a fool to think she could move on from what they had together. Carson owned a piece of her, and how could she ever feel complete again without reclaiming it?

  Without him?

  His door swung open, and he barreled out, stumbling into her.

  “Tabs?” he said with as much shock as relief. He grabbed her around the waist to keep her from toppling over. His hair was damp, and he was naked, save for a pair of tight black briefs that left nothing to her imagination.

  “Sorry, I…” Just needed to be in your arms.

  He exhaled a long breath. Hurt and desire brewed in his expression.

  She bit her lower lip to keep anxious tears at bay. Then his arms were around her, one hand pressed to her lower back, the other cradling the base of her skull, holding her safe and warm against his chest. He smelled so good, felt so right. How could she ever have walked away from him?

  “It’s okay,” he said in a gravelly voice. “I’ve got you.”

  I’ve got you. He’d used those three words every time they’d tried something new in the bedroom, and come to think of it, every time he noticed she was having a hard time with pretty much anything. He’d always taken care of her, and the words alone calmed her, but combined with his embrace, she felt like she’d come home.

  He led her into his bedroom and pulled back the comforter, telling her more than words ever could. She climbed between the lavish sheets and he settled in behind her, his hips cradling hers as he pulled the blanket over them and wrapped his arms around her. She crossed her arms over his, the fatigue of her trip catching up to her. She felt like an open wound being dressed
for the first time, and she melted against him, safe and warm. This was exactly what she needed.

  He was exactly what she needed.

  “Carson?”

  “Hm?”

  “I never meant to hurt you, either.”

  He exhaled long and slow, as if he’d been waiting to hear that for a very long time. “I know, Tabs. I know.”

  Chapter Four

  CARSON HAD HOPED that having Tawny in his arms again would be enough to satiate his appetite. But when he’d woken up at five o’clock, their bodies twined together like Twizzlers, he’d been hard as steel, and the urge to have her was overwhelming. She was exhausted and had fallen asleep almost instantly in his arms. Jet lag was a bitch. He slipped from the bed and paced, debating the obvious. Be a dick, wake her, and take his fill before they had a chance to talk, or get the hell out of there and let her rest. He could still taste her sweet kisses from last night.

  She made a contented sound in her sleep, jarring him from his thoughts. He adored her too much to wake her.

  A five-mile run in the cold November air helped clear his head. He went up to shower and found her looking heavenly, still fast asleep in his bed. She’d moved to his side, hugging his pillow. Why did that make him smile? Her pretty strawberry-blond hair fanned out around her face. She looked as innocent and as beautiful as a porcelain doll. He stripped off his running shirt and tossed it in the hamper, skipped his shower so as not to wake her, and headed downstairs, thinking about the first time they’d landed in bed together. She’d been naive, having had only one lover before him. Every touch had been tentative, every kiss slow and careful, but it hadn’t taken long for her to give in to the passion he’d felt humming beneath her skin. Their friendship had created a bond of trust that had pulled them both into a deeper realm.

  He cooked bacon and eggs and popped a few pieces of bread into the toaster. He’d just finished setting breakfast on the table when she padded downstairs, smiling sleepily, his T-shirt dwarfing her figure. His eyes trailed down her body to the taut peeks poking out against her—his—shirt. She curled her toes under one foot, turning as she trapped her lower lip between her teeth, ogling his bare chest. He knew they should talk, but rational thinking took a backseat to desire, and he opened his arms. She came to him willingly, just as she had last night when he’d plowed into her in the hallway after futilely trying to forget she was just down the hall. Whether she was there temporarily, or looking for more, he’d wanted her in his bed.