Exposed: An Anthology

by Brooke Cumberland

  "Oh," she said. "Well that's… good."

  I nodded, not breaking eye contact. God, I wanted to kiss her so badly.

  "I looked up your films," she blurted out, her eyes widening.

  I froze, my eyes narrowing. What. The. Fuck?

  She brought her hands up to her cheeks and looked down. "I'm sorry. That was highly inappropriate to say… I–"

  "Why'd you look up my films, Grace?" I asked quietly. I hated knowing that she had seen those. I hated thinking of her sitting at her computer watching me fuck other women. It made me sick. I looked away, out to the water. "Goddamn, Grace, why'd you do that?" I muttered.

  A feeling that I hadn't felt in a really damn long time slithered its way through my belly–shame. I had moved past that, and so to feel it now, in front of Grace, sucked.

  What did she think about me now that she had seen that? I tensed my jaw. That life felt so far away, so distant from who I was now. But Grace didn't necessarily see it that way.

  "Hey," she said, leaning her head to the side to get my attention. I turned back toward her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that. It was so long ago, and–"

  "Why did you do it?" I asked, trying to relax.

  She shook her head slightly. "At the time, I guess I just needed a reminder about why I shouldn't contact you," she said, her eyes filling with sadness.

  I breathed out harshly and turned to face her fully. "Did you miss me?" I asked.

  She nodded. "So much, Carson," she said softly.

  "Me too," I said quietly back. "It's why I came to see you before I shipped out. I wanted to tell you."

  She smiled sadly and opened her mouth to say something when a collective "Oooh" sounded from the group around us and the water show started.

  We stood watching it for several minutes and then I moved closer to Grace, our sides barely touching, but the heat of her felt like it was scorching me, moving through me, taking me over. I wanted to move behind her and hold her in my arms like I had the last time we were here. And then I wanted to take her back to my house and–I slammed the brakes on that line of thought. It was only going to lead to pain on several different levels, most notably at the moment, a serious case of blue balls.

  She looked up at me and our eyes met, something electric passing between us. She moved back quickly as if she'd been jolted and sucked in a breath. "We should go," she said.

  "It's not over," I said back quietly.

  Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly as we drank each other in. I gestured my head toward the water. "The show," I said quietly.

  She blinked as if coming out of a trance. "I… I work early. I should… get home…" she trailed off.

  I looked at her for another few seconds. "Okay," I said, turning and leading her through the light crowd of people still watching the water.

  We walked back to my truck, and I held the door open for her and took her hand to help her climb inside. Another rush of warmth passed through our hands and she glanced down at me quickly, her lips parting slightly. She pulled her hand away and got inside. I walked around to my side and got in and started the engine.

  I exited the garage and started driving back toward Summerlin. We were both quiet, thinking our own thoughts. The lines of Grace's body looked tense in my peripheral vision. It was clear that we still had the same chemistry we'd had the last time we were together. I wanted to see her again. But how was that supposed to happen exactly? I hadn't asked a lot about her fiancé, but I figured although he might accept one dinner out with an "old friend," he'd probably question two. He'd also probably frown upon me kissing his fiancé up against the door of her house when I dropped her off. But I had gotten a few signals that, fiancé or not, Grace might not be completely opposed to that–at least not physically. Need was pumping through my blood and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

  The ride went quickly as we both watched the scenery go by out the window. As I pulled in to Summerlin, I glanced at Grace and she was chewing on her lip again.

  "What are you thinking?" I asked quietly. The mood between us had shifted.

  She was silent for a minute before she said, "It's probably better if we don't see each other again."

  "Better for whom?" I asked, a mixture of anger and fear filling my chest.

  She looked at me. I could just make out her tense facial expression in the dark cab. I pulled up in front of her house and kept the engine idling.

  "Better for me," she said. "Spending time with you tonight, it's brought up…" she trailed off.

  "Brought up what, Grace?" I asked quietly, moving closer to her, her words making the anxiety in my chest fade slightly, hope taking over.

  She closed her eyes for a couple beats. "Don't."

  I stopped. "Don't what?"

  Her eyes opened and we stared at each other. "Just don't," she whispered.

  "Call it off, Grace," I ground out, suddenly filled with intense possessiveness and purpose. Why would fate bring us back together only to have us part a second time? I didn't want to say goodbye to her again. There were reasons I should, I knew that. But all the reasons other than her damn fiancé seemed far away and unimportant.

  She choked out a bitter sounding laugh. "Call it off?" she repeated.

  "Yes, your engagement, call it off," I said, moving in closer and putting my hand on the back of her neck and pulling her face in to mine. Her eyes moved down to my lips.

  "Stop," she whispered, sounding desperate, her voice cracking.

  I froze and then moved back, letting go of her neck. Her eyes flew up to mine and a small sound came up from her throat right before she thrust her face into mine, taking her own hand and wrapping it around the back of my neck to pull me in closer. Our lips connected and a shuddery sigh passed between us. I had no idea who it originated from. All I knew was that the mixture of lust and relief that flooded through me at the feel of her mouth on mine, was so intense that my whole body vibrated with it.

  She slipped her tongue into my mouth first as she scooted closer to me so that our chests were pressed together too. I swallowed the sexy sounds she made as our tongues met and tangled, tasting each other, stroking, and caressing. I re-familiarized myself with the taste of her, the feel of her mouth moving on mine, the tiny sounds she made. God, I had missed this, everything about her, everything–

  She pulled back on a small sob. "This isn't right. I knew you were going to do this to me," she said, her voice breaking.

  I was silent for a second, gathering myself, anger filling my chest. "Do this to you?" I asked. "Buttercup, I think you were the one who jumped me."

  Her head whipped up, her eyes narrowing. "I… you! I…" she made a frustrated sound of anger in her throat and started reaching for the door of the cab.

  I reached out and grabbed her hand. "Call it off," I repeated again, only this time I said it quietly, as gently as possible.

  She stared at me for a couple beats, threw the door open and fled inside her house. I watched her door close behind her.

  I started up my truck and roared off. "Fuck!" I yelled. That had not gone well.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Grace

  I slammed the door to my house behind me and took a deep, shuddery breath. That had not gone well. The worst part was that it had gone well for a while there. I had had fun with him. I had laughed more than I had in a long time. But then that damn sexual tension slipped in and ruined everything. How had I even doubted that it would? This was Carson Fucking Stinger I was talking about here. I had duped myself again because I wanted to go out to dinner with him. I was such an idiot. And I had kissed him. Oh my God. That was cheating. I had cheated on Alex. And Carson was right, it had been me who jumped on him. I had told him to stop and he had, and then the stark disappointment that had filled me was so intense that I practically attacked him–as if I was suffocating and his mouth contained life saving air. I let out a sob.

  It was all ruined now too. I had come to such a good place where C
arson was concerned. We had parted the first time knowing we couldn't be a part of each other's lives, but under the circumstances, we had parted on the best possible terms. And I had been thankful for the role he played in my life. When he came to mind, I thought of him with… fondness, I guess. But now! We had just parted again, only this time, not on good terms. He had ruined it all. Just like that, I was back to feeling unpleasant emotions for Carson Stinger.

  I made my way over to my couch on legs that felt like rubber and sunk down onto it, not even bothering to take my jacket off.

  Anger filled me. Why did I have to run into him again? Why did he have to live in Vegas? I had been going along–happy, fine! And suddenly he was back, shaking my life up, making me question things again, just like he had the first time. Rage filled me. I grabbed my phone out of my purse. I was going to call him and give him a piece of my mind. Who did he think he was exactly anyway? How arrogant could one person be? Asking me to call off my engagement five minutes after he walked back into my life? Seriously? I stared at my phone and then threw it down on the couch when I realized I didn't even have his number anyway. I took a deep breath. That was probably for the best. Angry calling could be as bad as drunk texting. Bad idea all around. I went to my room and got ready for bed. This day needed to end.

  **********

  My alarm went off at five a.m. and I dragged myself out of bed. I had not slept well. Not at all. I was cranky and yes, still angry. I couldn't identify exactly what I was so angry about other than the fact that Carson had managed to tilt my world on its axis–again. I should have bolted out of that hotel like a bat out of hell the second I laid eyes on him, standing there in all his muscled, male beauty. He was the devil. A sometimes sweet, funny devil, true. But wasn't that just like Lucifer himself? That's how he lured you in, ready to give up your very soul for one taste of those sinful lips, flashing that damn dimple for extra measure.

  I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my hair and my body, and then plunked myself down on my bed. I was being way too dramatic here. Okay, so he had taken me off balance. But so what? All I had to do was make it clear to him that I was happy with my life, I was not going to call off my engagement for him, a man whom I had spent one weekend with once upon a time–a man I really didn't know when you got right down to it. Or did I? I frowned to myself.

  What did I really know about Alex? I knew his family. They lived in San Francisco and I had met them several times when they visited Alex in Vegas. Lovely people. I knew that Alex had wanted to be a lawyer since he was a kid. He was kind, gave to charities and loved to read murder mysteries. He was a brilliant lawyer. We never fought and he was always considerate. Was he boring like Abby had said? Okay, maybe a little, if I was totally honest. So what? He was also stable, and solid and he didn't have my emotions in a constant free fall like some people did. I wouldn't hurt Alex, I couldn't.

  I dressed in my dark gray suit and did my makeup. Then I blew my hair dry and went to put it up in a twist. I halted and looked at myself in the mirror and decided to keep it down instead.

  I pulled my jacket on, grabbed a bagel, slid my heels on by the door and locked up behind me. On the way to work, I pulled through a Starbucks drive-through and ordered a Grande Latté.

  By the time I had drunk half my coffee, I felt better, calmer. I just needed to remember a few important facts. Carson had fulfilled his role in my life all those years ago. He had helped me realize some important things–things that made my life better. But he was my past. Alex was my future. Alex also wasn't a prior porn star like Carson, who probably had a different woman in his bed every night of the week. I gripped the steering wheel, feeling another surge of anger. I wanted to scream at him. Look what he was doing to me! I was like a crazy person.

  I made a spur of the moment decision.

  I made a series of turns and pulled into the garage at Trilogy. I needed to get this over with right now. He needed to know exactly how I felt about him. I would be kind but firm and re-iterate to him the fact that I was one hundred percent certain about marrying Alex. I couldn't live, couldn't focus, if this wasn't put to rest. I just wanted my life to go back to the way it had been two days ago.

  I parked my car and made my way upstairs, weaving through the lobby and the casino until I was in the hallway where his office was located. The door was closed. Maybe he didn't even get in this early. I paused, but took a deep breath and knocked twice on the door. I heard voices and some scuffling. A few seconds later, the door was pulled open and Carson was standing there in suit pants and a crisp, white shirt, a girl in a small, gold cocktail uniform appearing behind him, straightening her outfit. His eyes filled with surprise when he saw me.

  "Thanks, boss," the girl said, stopping to wipe some imaginary lint off Carson's shirt and then winking at him, glaring at me, and stepping around us.

  Carson nodded at her and turned back to me, warmth filling his eyes. "Hi," he smiled, leading me into his office and closing the door behind us.

  "Were you… in here… with that girl?" I demanded.

  Carson parked himself on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms, his biceps pulling the white cotton of his shirt tight.

  Amusement, and something that looked like satisfaction, lit his eyes and he chuckled.

  "What's funny?" I asked.

  "You. You're jealous."

  "Jealous?" I sputtered. "I'm not jealous. I just don't see how you could ask me to call off my engagement last night and then be in here with another girl this morning!"

  "Did you call off your engagement?" he asked quietly.

  "What? No! No," I said, shaking my head.

  "No?"

  "No."

  We stared at each other for a few beats, my pulse kicking up another notch and a tick starting in his jaw.

  I stood up taller, conjuring up my resolve and putting my hands on my hips. "I just came here to tell you we couldn't see each other again."

  "You already told me that last night," he said.

  "Yes, well I did, but I'm telling you again. To make sure you heard me."

  "That's why you came here? To make sure I heard you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

  I nodded my head. "Hmm hmm. To make sure you heard me," I repeated.

  "I was two feet away from you when you said it, Grace."

  I rolled my eyes. "Well, I know you heard me. But I want to make sure you know, you heard me."

  Carson stared at me, his eyes narrowed and his chest rising and falling steadily. I could practically see the wheels turning in that head of his.

  Suddenly, he stood up from the edge of his desk and stalked toward me. I backed up, but he kept coming until my back hit the wall. My pulse skyrocketed and I sucked in air. The delicious smell of him, clean soap and Carson Stinger, was suddenly all around me, intoxicating me.

  "Yes, I heard you, Buttercup. Did you hear me when I told you I didn't agree?" he asked.

  He leaned in toward me, taking one finger to lift my chin so that we were staring at each other eye to eye. He studied me for a few seconds. "Look at you, Buttercup. You're all worked up–that brain of yours going a million miles a minute, isn't it? You've been trying to solve this problem in your head since you jumped out of my truck last night, haven't you? Maybe since you walked out of this hotel yesterday afternoon. It's got you all twisted up, turned inside out. How'd you sleep last night, Grace? Did you want to shut that brain of yours off? Give the control over to me? Let me take charge until you were mindless, the only thing coursing through your system, pure pleasure? Wouldn't that have been sweet relief, Buttercup?" His voice was like silk, flowing over me, making me shiver with want.

  I stared up at him as his eyes glittered down at me. Yes I wanted that. God, I wanted that so badly I ached. I wanted him, needed him. The memory of what he could do for me was so vivid in my mind, I wanted to scream with frustration.

  Carson moved closer to me, putting his hands up on the wall to either side of my head, and bringing
his thigh up so that my core was resting on it. He reached a hand down and lifted my skirt up so that I was pressed firmly down on him. I moaned out with the pleasure, pressing down harder, my eyelids fluttering closed. God, what was I doing? Suddenly, I couldn't think.

  "Does he do this for you, Grace?" he leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "Do you scream out his name when you come?" My eyes felt heavy and I was vaguely aware that I was moving on his leg, bolts of pure arousal pulsating through me. God, it had been so long.

  "Answer me, Buttercup, does he do this for you?" Carson ground out, sounding angry now. My eyes focused on him, but skittered away at his question. He froze and I cried out in frustration.

  He brought his right hand down and took one finger and put it on my chin again, turning my face until I was forced to look into his eyes. He studied my face for a couple beats. "You haven't slept with him," he said finally, almost expressionless.

  My eyes tried to look somewhere else but the rest of his fingers came up to grip my chin, not allowing me to look away. "Why, Grace?" he breathed, his eyes so intense, I felt like they would scald me.

  I tried to shake my head. "I… I just…," I whispered.

  He studied my face again for several seconds and he grunted, as if he was satisfied with something that he saw. And then his thigh started moving against my core again and I moaned out. I was lost, the sweet relief of the mindlessness he was bringing me more addicting than any drug I could imagine.

  "Do you want me to stop?" he asked. "If you do, just say the word, and I'll stop."

  I shook my head from side to side. "No, don't stop. Don’t stop," I breathed out, sweet, heady pleasure coursing through my veins.

  As he moved, he started talking, "I'm not going to play games with you, Grace," he said, his voice smooth and low. "I got a whole lotta shit that I'm pushing aside, against my better judgment, to give things a shot between us."

  His hands came down from the wall and moved up my ribcage, opening my jacket. "Why?" I breathed.