by L. S. Scott
Payments $189,269.36
Balance $2303.25
I squeezed my eyes tight and opened them again, sure that I was misreading what was printed. But the numbers stayed the same. I felt sick. It was too much. How dare he assume that I would let him pay my medical bills. I was angry and as if on cue, I heard him come through the front door. Like a crazed woman, I stormed down the hall, bill in hand.
“No! Connor!” I screamed, slamming the bill in his chest.
He stepped back, startled but not surprised by yet another one of my mood swings. He caught the crinkled paper before it fell to the floor and looked it over as I stood in front of him fuming, irrationally angry at his kindness. He folded the bill carefully and slid it back into the envelope. He raised his eyes to mine and held it out to me.
“It wasn’t me,” he confessed, a strange hint of regret tinging his voice.
“What? Oh no, Jake can’t afford this. He has a baby,” my voice cracked and my eyes welled with tears.
“It wasn’t Jake either.”
He walked past me and tossed his suit jacket on the couch. I followed as he walked into the kitchen, pulling at his tie and untucking his shirt. He took a bottle of water from the refrigerator, twisted off the cap, took a drink then handed it to me.
“Then how,” he questioned, absent mindedly accepting the water.
“Maybe you should sit down,” he said leaning with his palms flat on the counter.
“Just tell me,” I demanded.
“Sit,” he ordered.
Rolling my eyes, I pulled out a stool and slid up on it, cocked my brow and tilted my head to the side.
“Ready,” I said all smart ass.
He looked up at me through his lashes.
“Greg and Janna took care of it.” He paused to gauge me reaction. I was speechless so he continued. “Apparently, Jaron,” saying his name was as hard for Connor as hearing it was for me, “had a large sum of money set aside for you to live on while he was, away.”
The familiar tightening in my chest began to squeeze the air from my lungs. Connor eased around the counter to stand beside me, rubbing my back to help me through my impending panic attack.
He spoke in a soft calm voice. “Greg arranged for you medical payments to be charged to that account.”
“How do you know? How do you know Greg?”
He casually pushed the hair that had escaped from my pony tail away from face.
“I went to college with his brother. Do you need a pill?”
“No! I don’t need a fucking pill!” I shouted pushing away from the counter and out of the stool. “Is that the reason I got the internship, because of Greg?”
Connor leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, feet crossed at the ankles. He tilted his head to the side and ran his thumb across his bottom lip.
“Answer me dammit!”
“He wrote you a recommendation letter that helped you get the interview, but he wasn’t the reason you got the internship.
“Oh no, I forgot. You wanted to fuck me. That’s why I got the internship,” I hissed, head bobbing in full bitch mode.
“Why are you doing this Natalie,” he asked exasperated.
“What? Asking questions about my own fucking life Connor!”
“Why are you getting mad at me? You always do this, even before. You take all the shit you got bottled up inside, and take it out on me!” He stood from his leaning post on the counter, his cool façade gone.
“Why do you fucking let me?!” I screamed, red faced.
“Hmph,” he snorted, slowly shaking his head. “That’s a stupid question.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” I nodded, “so you could keep fucking me.”
He turned and headed out of the kitchen, “Yeah Natalie, that’s what all this about, everything I do, I do for a piece of that ass.”
His words trailed behind him as he made his way through the suite. The last thing I heard was his bedroom door shut behind him. I snatched an un open bottle of wine and followed his lead, only I made sure my door slammed hard enough for the whole floor to hear.
I rolled over and looked at the clock, a little after nine. I blinked rapidly to wet my burning eyes and looked around the room. I didn’t remember undressing and crawling under the covers. The last thing I could clearly recall was slamming my bedroom door and ripping through my closet, shoes and clothes flying everywhere, the warm red wine stinging and dry on the back of my throat. I scanned the room again. Nothing was out of place. I lifted the covers, I was naked. I rubbed my face to clear the cob webs. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls.
I slipped into my white silk robe and stepped out into the hall way. My mouth fell open. My eyes widened. I could see Connor standing in the kitchen, shirtless, in old faded jeans. The morning light filtered through the wall of glass doors that opened onto the veranda. When I saw nine, I assumed it was nine at night. It had only been a little after three in the afternoon when I had fled to my bedroom.
Connor looked up from his paper as I walked apprehensively across the living room. I knew he was probably still pissed, but I had to have water. He watched me all the way into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator behind him, got my water and guzzled half the bottle.
“Aahh,” I sighed.
I was standing so close to him, I could feel his body heat. Without speaking I turned to leave. His hand wrapped around my bicep and pulled me back. He stepped in front of me and walked me back into the refrigerator door. Before I could speak, his mouth covered mine. He held my hands above my head and pinned me gently with his hips.
My heart raced and every muscle in my body tightened. He pressed his thigh between mine and my hips rolled into him automatically. He cupped my ass with both hands, pushing and pulling to encourage my mindless grinding. The friction of his jeans against my bare skin had my body strung tight. When his fingers found their way inside me, it was my undoing. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on for dear life as I grinded my clit into the denim, sliding farther and farther up his leg until my feet barely touched the floor.
“Oohh,” I moaned into the nape of his neck as my body shuddered through my orgasm.
He sucked hard on my neck as he walked around the counter. He kicked one of the padded stools out and bent me over it. I bit my lip in anticipation when I heard the sound of his zipper. His fingers slid down and parted my wet folds once before he slid his full length inside me.
“Oh, my, God,” he groaned, stilling for a breath.
Pleasure coursing through me, I rose to my tip toes, arched my back and pressed into him, begging for more. It was the first sensation I had felt in weeks that wasn’t pain, or numbness and I needed it, needed him.
My silk robe slid up my back, fully exposing me to Connor’s rearview. His hands splayed across my ass cheeks kneading gently, his thumbs teasing. He leaned down over me and I arched up to him. He caressed my shoulders, kissing and licking.
“I’ve missed you so damn bad,” he said breathlessly.
He stood upright and began pumping quick and steady but gentle. My nails dug into the plush cushion of the bar stool. My boobs pillowed beneath me on the seat. I squeezed him tight inside me, clenching with every ounce of strength I had, working to pull us both over the edge.
“Oh fuuuckk. God Natalie, aaww.”
“Please don’t stop,” I begged, feeling him swell inside me.
Feeling my legs quiver, knowing I was so close; he reached around and slide his finger over my clit. I tightened, bucked against him and in an explosion of pleasure that touched every raw nerve ending in my body, I came undone around him. The spasms inside me pulled him across the finish line as well.
We stood frozen for a minute or two, just breathing. He eased out of me and helped me stand. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me close, his chest to my back. His left hand trailed down my side and slid up and down my silk robe over the scar on my left hip.
“Are you okay?” he w
hispered between kisses to my neck.
“Yeah, I’m fine” My voice was shaky. “Connor,” I gasped and stood rigid.
“What, what’s wrong,” he spun me around to face him.
“I haven’t been on the pill in weeks.”
He cupped my face in his hands and kissed my forehead then hugged me sweetly.
“Call the pharmacy. Ask for the morning after pill, they’ll deliver it. When we go to see the doctor next week, we’ll talk to him about it.” He looked into my eyes, his demeanor turning serious. “You shouldn’t drink with the medicine you’re taking.”
“Did you put to bed?”
“Yes.”
“And picked up my room?”
“Yes.” I thought about the box of unopened letters that I dumped all over the bed. My brows stitched together in a worried frown. “I put everything back in the closet,” he assured me.
I let out a slow breath. We would fight, we would fuck, that had been the normal for Connor and me and as long as I had my pills to keep Jaron safely corralled behind a wall of numbness, maybe things could get back to normal.
Chapter Thirty-six
“Give me the fucking pills!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, fully prepared to claw Connor’s beautiful blue eyes out.
“No! The doctor said you need to start decreasing your dosage not increasing. You’ve been home for two months. If you’re still having trouble coping, we need to try counseling. You never went to see the grief counselor like the doctor suggested.”
“Hmph,” I snorted. “I don’t need a fucking counselor Connor. I don’t want to talk about my feelings.”
“No, you don’t want to talk about feelings; you don’t even want to have any.”
“Just give me my pills, and get the hell out!” I hissed through gritted teeth, not giving a damn about the hurt in his eyes.
“I’m going, but these are coming with me,” he held up the two medicine bottles and shook them before turning for the door.
In a furious rage, I flung myself at him, knocking him forward. He stumbled and caught his self on the door frame. I pounded my fists against his back.
“God dammit Natalie, stop it,” he growled.
He hurled the pill bottles against the wall and turned on me. Before I could blink, I was pinned against the wall, both hands above my head. I thrashed back and forth, bucking my hips and raising my knee, trying to cause as much harm as possible. With ease, he blocked my knee and pinned my lower body with his.
“Calm. Down.” He hissed, his lips inches from mine, chest heaving with shallow angry breaths. I panted and trembled, unable to speak.
It took only seconds before my core began to tighten and moisture pooled between my legs. When his thigh slid between mine, my body reacted instantly arching and pressing into him. When he felt my surrender, he cupped my ass and lifted me, carrying me to my bed. In a whirlwind of hands grabbing, tongues licking and clothes flying, he calmed me the only way he knew how.
Connor rolled away from me and sat on the side of the bed, his elbows propped on his knees, his palms pressed into his eyes. Bruises were already starting to show on his back where I had hit him. I worked to gather my thoughts and find the words to apologize.
“Do you remember our last conversation, before the accident,” he asked, lifting his head to stare blankly at the wall.
“Yes,” I answered my voice barely more than a whisper.
I waited nervously for him to continue, but instead he stood and began to dress. I took the out he was offering and rolled off the bed and went straight to the bathroom. I stared into my hollow eyes in the mirror. Gone was the bubbly girl with big dreams. Gone was the proud college graduate full of promise. Gone was the excited intern, actually living her life. I was empty. My heart had been lost and found and filled with so much love, and then crushed under a pile of twisted metal. Connor wanted more from me, more of me. And he deserved more.
When I opened the bathroom door, my room was empty, as I suspected it would be. The pill bottles had been picked up and on the night stand lay two pills.
Two days passed with little to no conversation between the two of us. After an evening swim I came in to find Connor sitting in the darkened living room watching tv, shirtless in faded pajamas, his hair damp and tousled from his shower, bare feet propped on the coffee table. The sight of him so relaxed in my absence was enlightening. I tiptoed so not to disturb him.
As I showered and washed the chlorine from my hair, I thought about Connor and all he had been through since I came into his life. He deserved so much better than the truck load of crap I had dumped on his doorstep. With me there, he was pulled and twisted and pushed away. It was unfair, and it had to stop.
I opened his bedroom door slowly and walked lightly to the end of his bed. I watched him sleeping as the shadows, cast from the potted palms on the veranda, danced across his bare chest. His lips were parted slightly. I could hear the soft rasp of his breathe moving between them. He jerked blinking wildly, when I crawled onto the bed beside him.
“It’s just me,” I whispered, sitting on my knees in the center of the bed.
“Natalie? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
His hand rested on my knee. And I recalled to myself, how many thousands of times he had asked me if I was okay, and I couldn’t recall one time I had asked him if he was.
I swallowed hard, afraid of rejection. This was foreign territory. Our physical contact always came in a cyclone of anger, strong, rough and passionate. It was never sweet, never tender. But I felt it was what Connor longed for and after all he had given, it was the very least I could give in return.
I didn’t speak as I untied my robe and let it fall and pool on the bed around me. His eyes took in the sight of me, assessing. He rose to his knees. His eyes locked with mine. He ran his fingers through my hair. His warm hands slid down my neck, across my shoulders and all the way down my arms. His fingers feathered up my thighs, across my hips and around the outline of my breasts, all the while his eyes possessed mine. He was savoring every second.
He cupped my face and tilted my head up. His lips brushed against mine and lingered a whisper away for several shared breathes before he claimed me. Our tongues danced softly as he lay me down. He broke our connection and hovered above me and ran his hand across my hair that had fanned across the pillow.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered with a pained expression. I turned my head and pressed my lips to his arm.
Methodically, he began his descent, trailing wet warm kisses across my skin. The air left my body when he reached that perfect spot at the base of my neck and my body arched against him. He ignored my urgency. His tongue ran circles around the base of my breast taking his torturous time finding my nipple.
“Uuhh,” a breathless sigh escaped my lips as he worked, painting long soft strokes across it before sucking gently and moving on to show the other the same care and attention.
All the way down my stomach, he zig zagged with open mouth kisses. Stopping at the scar on my hip and placing sweet pecks from one end of it to the other. I cradled his head in my hand, kneading softly through his hair.
His journey continued. His tongue ran down the crease of my leg and my body shivered. I fought the urge to arch my body and greedily grind against him. He closed his mouth and began placing sweet kisses around my apex, up one side, across the top and back down, never parting the folds that hid the most sensitive and needy parts.
“Oh, please,” I begged, my body aching.
“Say my name baby, please,” he breathed against my thigh.
“Connor, please, Connor?”
I felt the vibration of his groan against my mound as he parted me with his tongue. My legs fell open wide, inviting him to take more. Hungrily, he lapped up all I had to offer. When his fingers slipped deep inside me, I shattered. Arching and grinding against his tongue, I rode the longest most all-consuming orgasm he had ever given me.
He brought his lips to mine, s
haring the taste of my release. His arms encompassed me as he rested his body against mine. His strong thighs parted mine as he slid his hard length back and forth in my wetness. Every stroke added tension to the thread that held me together. My hips rolled, my body reaching and aching for more of him. Finally, he lowered his hips and pushed his way inside me.
“Aahh, oh Natalie.” His hands fisted in my hair.
Slowly, he rocked us, pushing deep inside me and pressing against my clit each time. He rose above me, his weight on his hands. His hips pressed hard against me and with small flexing movements he pushed in and up on my pussy. I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me, reveling in the pleasure he was giving me.
“Come for me baby, for me,” he coaxed.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh God,” I moaned with every stroke.
“No baby, I want to hear my name, when you can’t hold on anymore, not God, not anyone else, my name.”
“Oh, oh, oh.” My walls tightened around him. He pressed hard, grinding into me. “Oooohh Connor, oh Connor.” My body jerked and quivered in waves, the friction against my clit causing every muscle to contract.
“Oh you’re beautiful,” he whispered as he watched me fall apart.
His pace quickened as he pulled me tight against him. My arms wrapped around him, I gently clawed at his back. I felt the tremor tear through his body and he slammed into me one last time. I rocked my hips and clenched, milking him dry.
Connor lay perfectly still, except for the rise and fall of his back as he worked to catch his breath, his body pressed against mine lightly and his head buried in the nape of my neck.
“Connor,” I whispered, “Are you okay?”