True to You (A Love Happens Novel Book 3)

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True to You (A Love Happens Novel Book 3) Page 10

by Jodi Watters


  “It wasn’t anything you did!” Exasperated, he shook his head. “Nothing could’ve changed it. We’ve been over this.”

  “But it still happened. There’s no going back, and for four years, there’s been no going forward either. I think—” She looked toward the nursery, voicing what she feared was really behind the decision to jump start her life. “I think I want to have that. And this,” she added, lifting her arms to indicate the house. “A real marriage. A family.”

  Eyes turning glacial, his icy demeanor was that of a man seasoned by war. “Do you hate me that much? Is there no more love left at all? We have a real marriage. I can give you a baby. We’ll be a family. That was our plan from the beginning.”

  “Plans change.”

  “Mine haven’t.”

  “There’s too much baggage. Between you and me, and you and Marshall. My loyalty to the vineyard, and… and her.” She shook her head. “It’s too much to overcome.”

  “Marshall has no fucking business in our marriage. You let him in. And the vineyard is your place of employment, nothing more, nothing less. Your personal life should come first. I should come first.”

  Eyes widening, she scoffed at his audacity. “Like you put your personal life ahead of The Unit? Never once did you put me before them. Never once,” she hissed, stressing her point. “So don’t you preach to me.”

  “Livvy, look at me.” Voice raspy, he took a step closer. “I fucked up. I know it. I’ve always known it. But I loved you. Hate me for being gone all the time. For rarely coming home. For not coming home when it mattered most.” He scrubbed a palm down his face, exhaling. “Hate me for being an insensitive asshole with screwed-up priorities. Believe me, I hate myself for those things, too. But don’t hate me because you think I didn’t love you. Or because I still love you.”

  The words weren’t pretty, but she’d been waiting a long time to hear them.

  And if she wasn’t standing twenty feet from the tricked-out bedroom of an unborn baby, they might’ve done the job.

  “Just sign the papers when you get them so we can each move on, and I can try to build a life again. I deserve that much from you. And get this mess with Marshall figured out once and for all, too, because I’m tired of being in the middle of your real-life family feud and having my work ethic questioned by everyone once they know my last name, and can you please put on some pea-pickin’ clothes?”

  The words ran together as her traitorous eyes traveled down his chest and rigid abdomen, settling on his rapidly rising erection. It was fast becoming a spectacular focal point in an already beautiful room.

  “Like what you see?”

  She snorted. “I’m barely controlling my orgasm.”

  “Come home, Livvy. Please.”

  Please. That single word weakened her resolve faster than any could.

  “Why would I do that?” Playing dumb gave her time to rally some willpower.

  “Because you want something from me, and I want something from you. Come back home. Live with me again. Sleep with me again. Spend the summer with me, in our bed, clothing prohibited. If you still wanna cut ties in the fall, I won’t fight you.”

  Was he suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? “You wanna have hate sex for the next three months?”

  “I wanna have all kinds of sex. Every kind of sex. Repeatedly. If you wanna throw in a little hate sex, too, I’m game.”

  Yep. He was suggesting exactly what she thought. “So I spend the next ninety days banging you morning, noon, and night, and then you’ll sign the divorce papers? Doesn’t that sound a little…” She waved her hands around, searching for the right word. “Whorish to you?”

  His wicked grin sent a slew of butterflies through her.

  “It sounds like a wet dream come true to me. Except for the divorce part, but I’m confident that’s not gonna happen.” Dragging on a pair of jeans, he left the fly undone. “And I have to work every day, but I’m willing to clear my schedule for a quickie at lunch to accommodate my wife’s needs. Morning and night are guaranteed, though.”

  He was serious, and because he’d been naked during the majority of their conversation, she was seriously considering it. Turns out telling Asher Coleson to go fuck himself was impossible when he was au naturel.

  Instead, she smirked and walked out of the bedroom, not bothering to answer at all.

  “Maybe give Pete an extra treat tonight,” she threw over her shoulder. “In my rush to judgment, I might’ve snapped and threatened to violently kill his mommy. No big deal.”

  “I knew it.” His satisfied voice trailed her down the stairs. “You still like me, Liv. Admit it and accept defeat.”

  Fighting a smile, Olivia grabbed her shoes off the kitchen floor and exited the house without another word. Without giving him an answer to his outrageous proposal.

  It didn’t matter. They both knew. Their connection was too visceral. Their push and pull too exhilarating.

  History was about to repeat itself.

  They made it to Ash’s top floor condo in Mission Bay in record time.

  Maybe he took the posted speed limit as mere suggestion. Maybe he took her demand to take her to bed as gospel. Either way, it worked for her.

  His hand copping a feel over the ruched satin covering her breasts while his talented tongue slid against hers was working for her, too.

  They weren’t two steps inside the door before he’d shoved her up against it, pressing the hard length of his body into hers and taking her mouth in a kiss so carnal, it set her skin on fire. Lips soft, mouth deliciously rough, the stroke of his tongue sent sparks through her, making her wet and weak with desire. Her unfamiliar response was so forceful, she couldn’t hold back the whimpers of need as she tugged on the hem of his T-shirt, eager for all he could give her, dying to give him the same.

  Good Lord, the man could kiss. She could almost come from his tongue kiss alone.

  And if the seams on her mermaid style gown weren’t so sturdy, she’d ride his muscled thigh and make it happen herself, lickety-split.

  “I got you, darlin’.” The sandpaper scrape of his stubble against her skin made her dizzy. “I wanna feel you on my fingers. Taste you on my tongue.”

  His hands went to the zipper on her dress, the taffeta sliding down to puddle around her feet. Forgoing a bra, she wore nothing but the muted glow from a table lamp, a drenched black lace thong, and the pointy-toe Louboutin pumps she’d scored on sale.

  His sharp intake of breath was loud. “Jesus, look at you,” he murmured, with something close to awe.

  Her excitement rose at the feel of his rough hands gliding across her skin and the obsessed way he cupped her breasts, weighing their fullness. His thumbs rasped over her taut nipples, the throb in her center increasing with each pluck.

  And still, he kissed her, over and over, his hot mouth absorbing her breathy moans.

  Olivia nearly had him hogtied in her effort to get his shirt off, needing his bare skin against hers, when he put a few inches between them and yanked it over his head.

  “No,” he ordered, when she kicked her dress away and reached for her shoes. The desire in his eyes softened the command. “Leave ‘em on.”

  The firm lash of his tongue across her nipple stopped any response.

  Digging her nails into his corded back, she arched into him when he took the sensitive peak into his mouth, flicking the hard bead before sucking strongly. The groans she couldn’t filter might be embarrassing come morning, but when his fingers jerked her thong aside and slid through her wetness, zeroing in on her clit while worshiping her breasts, she let all inhibition go.

  “Ash,” she gasped, as he sent her over the edge. “Holy… oh, my God.” The orgasm ripped through her, flooding his hand as she rode the intense wave of pleasure, mewling and moaning.

  It was a sensational start to their seventy-two-hour sex fest.

  Before she could catch her stalled breath, the warmth of his big body was gone. A strikingly han
dsome man, Ash stood there like her own personal love slave, gaze glued to her core as he licked the moisture off his fingers. Wincing, his other hand went to his fly, tearing open the denim placket and releasing the most impressive erection she’d ever seen.

  No joke, it was big.

  While she contemplated taking all that inside her, he dropped down, burying his face in her wet heat. She was shocked by the speed in which he’d moved, her thong ripped away and his gifted tongue lapping her clean before she could cry uncle.

  The second orgasm hit without warning, not as strong as the first, but just as gratifying, sending tiny little pulses echoing against her inner walls.

  They stayed that way for several seconds, Olivia propped against the front door, trying to remember her name. Ash still on his knees, trailing kisses along the curve of her hip, then resting his cheek against her flat stomach.

  “Damn, where are my manners? I forgot to say, welcome to my home.” His gruff voice vibrated against her belly. “Sorry I ripped your panties in my haste to eat you out. I had a whole, lazy seduction scene planned in my mind, and it didn’t include attacking you a foot inside the door. I’ll give you the grand tour once I can fit my boner back inside my pants. In hindsight, it was a bad idea to let it out so soon. Has a mind of its own.”

  “Mmm, thanks for your awesome hospitality,” she replied breezily, running her fingers through his hair, not needing a tour. What she saw of his condo could best be described in two words. Sparse luxury. “And I have plans for that boner, so don’t put it away.”

  They laughed in the midst of a sexual haze, and Ash stood to his full height, not an inch between them. His erection was hot and heavy against her stomach. “Can I get you something to drink? Wine, water, beer?”

  She nuzzled his throat. “Do you have anything with electrolytes in it? Lord almighty, I just burned a thousand calories trying to stay upright in these heels.” Then his words clicked. “You have wine?”

  “Don’t judge,” he grumbled. “You want some? It’s a label you’ll recognize.”

  “Thanks, but no. I’ve had enough wine tonight.” She wanted to drink him down instead. Literally. Straight from the tap.

  “I wouldn’t think a woman who works at a vineyard could ever have too much wine.”

  “Did you know,” she drawled, kissing along his collarbone, “it’s a medical fact that if a woman drinks two glasses of wine, it increases the chance of a stroke? If you let her have the whole bottle, she’ll probably suck it, too.”

  He laughed, a sexy rumble that had her dropping to her knees without a single sip of vino. Palming him, she inhaled his musky scent and licked the wide tip.

  Groaning, he lifted her off her feet and dropped her down on a gray sofa. “Oh, no. Hell no. The first time I come, it’s gonna be inside your sweet, tight pussy.”

  She gasped, unaccustomed to such graphic sex talk. She liked it. A lot. “How do you know my mouth isn’t sweet and tight?”

  He growled, peeling off his jeans, revealing a nude body worthy of an art gallery. Caging her within his arms, he nibbled at her mouth, his dog tags nestled between her breasts.

  “I know your mouth is dirty and sarcastic and fucking delicious.” He kissed her chastely, their lips clinging as his body settled over hers. “I know it’s warm and magical and makes my head spin.” Tracing the seam with his tongue, he teased her with the taste of her own essence. “I know I can’t wait to feel my cock slide inside it.” He kneed her legs apart, his erection seeking her opening. “But first, I have to fuck you. I have to, Livvy, or I’m gonna lose my mind from wanting you so bad.”

  His hips surged, but she reached down, blocking his entrance. “Wait. You need to take care of something first.”

  “Pretty sure you came already, darlin’. Twice, if my math’s correct. I’m not selfish, but I think I’ve earned a turn.”

  Faking outrage, she tweaked his flat nipple, stopping short of a full-on titty twister. “That’s not what I mean, you horny bastard.” Twirling a finger toward his hard-on, her voice was firm. “Wrap it up.”

  “Do we need it? You’re not on anything?”

  “Um, you’re looking at a girl whose first form of birth control was prayer. So yeah, you might wanna be in charge of that.”

  “Good thing I was a Boy Scout or we’d be relying on the man upstairs.” Hefting himself up, he headed for the bedroom. “And I don’t wanna hear about your old boyfriends.”

  “If it makes you feel better, you’re already beating them, two orgasms to zero.” A drawer slammed shut, and he reappeared, tearing a foil packet from a long strip. “Sweet baby Jesus,” she added, awestruck, “you’ve got a few inches on them, too.”

  The room was cast in dark shadow, but you didn’t need a spotlight to see what he was packing. He looked up with a cocky grin and froze.

  “Don’t move.” His rough whisper sent a shiver down her spine as heated blue eyes swept over her. “I wanna stare at you for a minute. Maybe an hour.”

  Suddenly self-conscience, she tried not to squirm as she took inventory of herself.

  Sprawled on the sofa, naked except for her heavy, ornate necklace, black stilettos with red soles, and a delicious beard burn across her breasts, she looked camera ready for a nudie magazine. The low light didn’t hide a thin scar from an appendectomy when she was thirteen, but the glint off the tiny emerald nestled in her belly button drew his attention instead.

  That and, when she spread her legs a little wider, what was directly south of the jewel.

  “Christ, you’re beautiful.” Fighting the urge to cover herself, she groaned in awkward embarrassment. “No, you are. You deserve candlelight and flowers. Music and poetry. All I’ve got is a box of condoms and seventy-two hours.” He glanced at the black Rolex still on his thick wrist. “Make that sixty-four.”

  “That’s not all you’ve got.” Licking her lips, she enjoyed her own fantasy centerfold come to life, nodding at the erection jutting toward her. “Screw cheesy romance and fake promises of forever, I’ll have some of that, please.”

  Not smiling as she’d intended, he grew more serious instead. “You’re gonna marry me, Liv. Bet your bottom dollar.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What did I just say about fake promises? Now get over here before I tackle you to the floor and sexually assault you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Eyes dancing, he grabbed her ankles and pulled hard, yanking her flat on the sofa. “Bossy women turn me on.”

  She yelped in delight as his body covered hers, cradling him between her thighs.

  With one hard surge of his hips, he sank fully into her and she cried out, the breadth of him more substantial than anticipated. So was the sheer pleasure of holding him inside her.

  Wrapping her legs around his waist, she dug her heels into the small of his back, lifting herself to him. Needing him to move, to thrust, preferably hard and fast.

  There were times in a woman’s life when she just needed to be pounded. This was one of those times.

  “Ash.” She squeezed her inner muscles, lips grazing the shell of his ear. “Move.”

  “Can’t.” He groaned when she clamped down again, his face buried in her neck. “I’m reciting the alphabet song. Give me a minute to get through ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm’ or the best sex of my life will be over in three pumps.”

  Running a finger down the line of his spine, Olivia gave him five seconds.

  “Okay, listen up, soldier. Either switch positions with me so I can fuck you while you sing ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ or move those hips. Now.”

  With an agonized laugh, he pushed himself up, showing off an impressive set of guns before sliding out of her body. Sliding out completely bare.

  “Sorry,” he said, ripping open a foil packet and rolling it on while she stared, mouth agape. Only he didn’t seem all that sorry.

  There’d been a pearly bead of essence on the tip of his erection when they’d sized each other up. And now, as he slid the protection on, there
was nothing but the slick shine of her wetness coating him.

  “Shit.” It was the only thing she could think to say.

  He grinned, hooking an arm under her knee and spreading her wide, the head of his cock nudging her opening. “Start praying, darlin’.”

  Ramming into her in one delicious thrust, he filled her to the hilt. Closing her eyes, she moaned at the sharp rush of pleasure as he slid out and shoved back in again. And again and again, hard then harder, not caring that he was just short of rough about it.

  “Oh, God,” she cried out in ecstasy, oblivious to her choice of words as she chanted them, a heavenly plea that he keep going or she’d simply die.

  The danger Asher Coleson presented, to both her life and livelihood, faded away. Her world was reduced to Ash, the magnificent man she was currently wrapped around. The ragged sound of their satisfied moans mingled, the throb in her core gaining momentum with every thrust, every kiss, every lash of his tongue. His chiseled body enveloped her, hard muscle against soft curves, molding them like two pieces of the same imperfect puzzle.

  “More,” she ordered, gasping as she felt a third, unprecedented and impossibly awesome orgasm build. “Just like that… exactly like that…. don’t even blink differently… just do more of that.”

  Her whimpers of passion and greed blended with his whispers of hunger and reverence, fueling her desire.

  “Anything you want, darlin’. I’m at your service.” He nipped her bottom lip, showing no signs of stopping. “I could keep this up all night… all weekend… all my life.”

  And when he shifted his angle ever so slightly, reaching deeper, rubbing against her clit with every wet slide, it was even better. The best.

  Olivia had died and gone to multiple-orgasm heaven.

  “Jesus, Ash.” Her eyes shot open at the wondrous sensation, locking onto his. “You’re really good at this.”

  “No, we’re good at this,” he corrected, groaning when her nails dug into his ass. “Together. Better than there’s ever been.”

  He was right. The keening pleasure was unlike any she’d ever experienced. It thrilled her. Liberated her. Scared the hell out of her.

 

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