by Zara Chase
“And did they?”
“Yeah, for the most part, if people actually listened and did what I suggested.” Ross snorted. “I got a good reputation for honesty and straight-talking. It took me all over the state of Colorado, and sometimes beyond it.” Ross continued to pace, not looking at her, but sensing she was now more interested than hostile. “Obviously I was away from home a lot, but that was okay. I’d shared my plans with Chelsea while we were still in school, and she wanted to help me. She ran the office, I and two employees did the leg work. We were onto a winner, or so we thought.” Ross threw back his head and let out a bitter laugh. “You can have no idea how sloppy some companies—make that most companies—are run. Their mistakes ought to be obvious, but fortunately for my bank balance people made the same errors over and over.”
“I’ve seen plenty of examples of that in my line of work.”
“Anyway, five years ago Chelsea got pregnant.”
Darcy gasped. Still not looking directly at her, in the periphery of his vision Ross saw her clap a hand over her mouth. “You have a child?”
“Not anymore.” Memories of a cheerful toddler, clutching a toy car under his arm as he ran toward his daddy on chubby legs, flooded Ross’s mind. Darkness filled his head and his world closed in on him. “He died.”
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah.”
Ross shook his head, but the memories prevailed. He was engulfed by sadness, but knew he couldn’t let it win. For the first time since his world had come to an end, he’d found something worth living for, and he wasn’t about to let it go.
Darcy walked up to him and touched his arm. “What happened?”
“We hadn’t planned the pregnancy, but we were both excited about it. Mikey was born, and Chelsea became a stay-at-home mom. She still did a lot of the paperwork for the business, but from home, and I worked harder than ever to give my family the things they needed.” He sighed. “In some respects, I guess what happened was my fault. I didn’t pick up on the signs.”
Darcy frowned. “What signs?”
“That Chelsea wasn’t so happy anymore. Don’t forget she’d been the most popular girl in school, used to a lot of attention. I was home less and less, and when I was there I guess I was pretty taken up with our son.”
Darcy’s frown deepened. “She was jealous of her own little boy?”
“Neglected was the way she put it.”
Darcy shook her head. “Unbelievable.”
“Mikey was just over a year old, I was away again, and I got a frantic call from Chelsea. Mikey wasn’t breathing.”
Darcy gasped. “A cot death?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, Ross, you must have been devastated.” She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. “How do you get over a thing like that?”
“You don’t. You carry on living, but a part of you dies. Trust me, I know.”
“Your relationship with Chelsea didn’t survive? I know relationships often don’t come through traumatic events like that unscathed. They either get stronger, or fragment.”
“We might have gotten through it, but for the fact that Chelsea wasn’t alone when she called 911.”
“Let me guess. She had a man with her.”
“Right. One of my business partners. She tried to tell me she called him when she discovered Mikey because she needed support. I might even have believed her, if she’d remembered to make the bed, and if he’d remembered not to leave a used condom in the trash.”
Darcy shook her head. “No wonder trust is such a big issue for you.”
“Chelsea tried to blame me, saying I neglected her. I blamed her for screwing with my co-worker, instead of caring for our son. If she’d checked on him more frequently it might not have happened. She said she checked him as regularly as always, and that the baby monitor was on.” Ross lifted his shoulders, and then exhaled. “That’s about it really. I’ve hated her ever since.”
“You’re not divorced?”
“No. I sold the business as soon as we’d buried my son, and took off.”
“Where did you go?”
“Anywhere I could lose myself in a crowd. I drank too much, drifted from place to place, hated Chelsea for neglecting our son, hated myself more for letting it happen.”
“What did Chelsea do?”
“She was devastated, too, and wanted us to stay together.” Ross shook his head. “I couldn’t even look at her, said some pretty nasty things before I left.”
“How did you finish up here?”
“Leo and I go way back. He heard about Mikey, got in touch, and invited me over. I guess he saved me from self-destructing. Anyway, he’s the only other person apart from you who knows the truth.”
“Thanks for telling me. It means a lot.”
“You mean a lot, babe, and I can’t let you go. I’m sorry I was such a jerk when you told me about Chloe. I don’t think I even heard half the words you said, not properly. All I could think about was a little girl, wanting her mommy, and worrying about what might be happening to her.” He shrugged. “It’s how I’ve been ever since…”
Shush, it’s okay.” She reached up and touched his face. “I understand.”
He grasped the hand caressing his face and kissed her fingers, astonished to discover they were wet with his own tears.
“Shit, I’m crying. That ain’t too manly, is it now?”
“You must have done a lot of that.”
“Actually, no. I’ve been too damned mad at the world to be able to cry.”
“Crying is cathartic.”
“You think?”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
* * * *
Darcy spoke soothingly, gently, as though he was a child. Her heart overflowed with sympathy and understanding. If anything were to happen to Chloe, she wouldn’t want to carry on living herself. No wonder this poor, damaged man was hiding away in this backwater. With her arms wrapped around him, she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Ross fell to his knees in front of her, rested his head in her warm lap, and sobbed his eyes out. Darcy, her own eyes leaking tears, stroked his head, tangled her fingers in his hair and let him cry. She suspected he was crying for all the things he might have done differently, out of guilt, regret, and sorrow, but most of all for his dead son.
“Sorry,” he said, clearly embarrassed when his racking sobs finally subsided. “I guess you’re right, I did need that.”
“Why was Chelsea here today?”
“She’s been in and out of therapy since Mikey died, and I haven’t kept in touch.” He cocked his head to one side. “I couldn’t, it was too painful, and I still blamed her. But not as much as I blame myself. Anyway, she knew where I was, happened to be in Europe herself, and called to say she’s better, and wants a divorce so she can start over. I was happy to agree, and it kinda gave me closure.”
“Now I understand why you’re in Nevella.”
Ross snorted. “All of us hanging out with Leo are damaged goods, but thanks to him we’re recovering.” He paused and looked up at her. “And in my case, thanks to you. Forgive me, babe?”
“Oh, Ross, there’s absolutely nothing to forgive.”
He tightened his arms around her and crushed her body to his, his movements urgent and possessive. His lips covered hers, feeding from them with savage need as he coerced hers apart with a hunger that matched her own. He drew on her lower lip as his tongue cut a path through her mouth, and Darcy allowed herself to be pulled to her feet as he took complete control of the situation. Lips and bodies fused, the temperature in the room went off the scale, and Darcy knew he needed her at that moment like he’d never needed anyone before. He had relieved the tension he’d lived with for so long by crying. Now he needed to remind himself he was truly alive in order to finally lay his demons to rest. Or at least to get them under better control. Darcy knew without needing to be told that his little boy would occupy a special place in his memory for all time.
His hands drifted beneath her top. He found the fastening to her bra and unhooked it.
“You weren’t supposed to wear one of these,” he said, breaking the kiss and sending her a condemning look.
She mangled her lower lip between her teeth and offered him a flirtatious glance from beneath lowered lashes. “Then punish me.”
“You’d better mean that, babe, because the way I feel right now, it won’t be gentle.”
“Who said anything about gentle? You need to do this, and I want you to do it.”
“Hmm, then we’re gonna have to improvise. I don’t have any of the tools of my trade here.”
Darcy glanced down at the erection pressing against his zipper and laughed. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Take your top and bra off,” he said curtly, prowling around her kitchen area, opening and closing drawers. “Domestic kitchens are great places to find implements of torture.”
He rummaged in the cupboard beneath the sink and came up with a couple of clothes pins.
“Lower your jeans, honey, and kneel beside the bed. Rest your head and arms on the bed. I’m going to spank your cute ass with a wooden spoon.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Shit, he turned her on when his eyes turned dark, and he went all masterful on her! It got to her every time. She stepped right out of her jeans, left her excuse for a pair of panties in place, and got into position. Ross found a wooden spoon in the kitchen drawer, and whacked it against his palm. She flinched when she heard the noise it made, which she figured was his intention. Anticipation was the key to enhanced pleasure—that much she had already learned beneath Ross’s skilled hands. Instead of spanking her, Ross reached beneath her and carefully attached a clothes pin to each pebbled nipple. She gasped as a fine tremor curled through her body. Her pussy was already oozing liquid, as Ross discovered for himself when he slid a couple of fingers inside her. They slipped in so easily that he added a third. She groaned and pushed back against his hand. Ross tapped her butt, withdrew his fingers, and carefully attached another pin to her labia, pulling her panties back into place when it was done to his satisfaction.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Hottt!” she mumbled.
Without telling her to expect it, he brought the spoon down hard over her backside. She heard him mutter something, then heard the sound of a zipper being jerked down. Darcy suppressed a smile. She didn’t need to look to know his cock would have been hard and throbbing inside his jeans. His clothes appeared in an untidy pile on the floor beside her, proving her point, and she felt heat radiating from his gorgeous naked body.
“Shit, your ass sure does look pretty with a pink line on it where I just spanked it,” he said, sounding smugly satisfied with his handiwork. “Your cunt looks damned hot, too, with that pin attached. You are so fucking good for me, Darcy, you have no idea.”
He whacked her a second time, tugging gently at one of the pegs on her nipples as he did so. She cried out. Her head was resting sideways on the bed, and his face appeared close to hers, presumably to check her expression and make sure he hadn’t gone too far. She wanted to tell him she could take as much of this as he needed to mete out. And he did need to do it—it was his way of coping with his self-hatred and stress—she understood him so much better now. This was for his lost little boy. This was to mark a new, hopefully happier phase in his life, and she was more than willing to act as the conduit that hosted the transition, whatever form it might take. Whether there was any place for Darcy in his life from this point on, she couldn’t have said. All she knew was they should live for the moment, and that’s what she fully intended to do.
Ross repeated her punishment several times more, then moved her panties aside again, removed the peg from her labia, and forced the handle of the spoon deep inside her instead. He moved it about, while leaning over her from behind, running his cock down the crack in her ass.
“If you knew how much I wanted to fuck you like this,” he breathed.
“What’s stopping you?” she asked, panting with need, ashamed of her quite desperate need for him.
“Can’t be done. Not here. You’re not ready yet. But…I think I have another idea that’s almost as good.”
With the handle of the wooden spoon still inside her, Ross forced the head of his cock right in alongside it, stretching her to capacity. He groaned, as did she.
“This is gonna really fill your cunt, babe. You’d best safe word me if it gets too much.”
“It won’t. I’m loving it. Just work out your frustrations on me, Ross. I can take it.”
“You never fail to amaze me, darlin’.” He dropped a hot line of damp kisses down her spine, and eased in a little deeper. “I love it that you still have your knickers on. I love fucking a woman when she’s still wearing something.” He chuckled. “Come to that, I love fucking in the open air, in crowded cinemas, but most of all, in the dungeon.” He spoke in a smoky, provocative tone as he worked his way carefully into her. “Next time, we’ll do this in the dungeon.”
She grunted, not ready to make that commitment, but not wanting to burst his bubble either. She pushed back to take a little more of him while Ross pushed the spoon handle deeper, along with his cock. Hard and slow, teasing and testing her powers of restraint, sending piquant thrills through her bloodstream. She so wanted to make this about him, to make it last as long as he needed it to, but the combination of his thick cock and the hard wooden handle working against the sensitized walls of her cunt was a tough act to fight against. She felt the familiar rush, the turbulent heat, messing with what little control she had managed to hold onto. Ross pushed the handle and his cock deep, at the same time as he tugged on one of the pins on her nipples. It was too much, and she gave up the fight to hold off.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he said, an urgent edge to his tone. “I can feel you’re gonna come for me. Let it all go. I’m right here with you.”
Darcy clenched and trembled as his persuasive words and the feel of his hot breath against her damp skin sent her tumbling over the edge. Her body trembled and ached as she pushed back against him and volcanic passion exploded deep within her core. Her head spun with delirious pleasure as his addictive scent filled her nostrils and he embedded himself inside her deeper still, fucking her with urgent aggression.
“Christ, Darcy, what are you doing to me?”
His control was unraveling, she sensed it when he let himself go moments after she had found release. He grabbed her hips and bit at her shoulder as an explosion of molten sperm plastered the walls of her pussy, rekindling shards of the intense sensation still ricocheting her.
“I wish I knew,” she said, almost to herself, as Ross continued to come for an impossibly long time.
Chapter Fourteen
Ross remained where he was for several moments after he finally stopped coming, resting his weight on his arms on the edge of the bed, struggling for breath. He felt like every bone in his body had been liquefied, and movement was beyond him. Something inside him felt different—something other than the temporary relief he usually got from mind-blowing sex. It took him a moment to figure out that the huge weight he’d been toting for too long had been lifted from his shoulders. It felt as though he’d been given permission to carry on living because he wasn’t to blame for Mikey’s death.
The changes all came down to the lady beneath him, who’d shown him the way. She had known what he needed before he knew it himself. She was unlike anyone he’d ever known—sensitive, caring, intuitive and hot as hell. She was remarkable.
But still something nagged at the back of his mind. There was a reason why it wasn’t in the script for him to be this happy. Ross shook his head, not willing to listen to the warning bells, refusing to spoil the mood by over-thinking the situation.
He withdrew from her, removed the spoon and the pins from her nipples, and threw them aside. Ross then scooped Darcy into his arms and laid her on the bed. He joined her there, pulle
d her into his arms, and kissed her.
“Thank you,” he said, when he eventually let her go.
She didn’t ask him what he was grateful for. She had to know what she’d done for him and, with a tiny smile tugging at her lips, she simply rested her head on his shoulder. Her hair fanned out over his chest, and he ran his fingers through its tangles. Loving it.
Loving her.
Except he didn’t deserve to love or be loved in return. That was what his subconscious had been trying to tell him. Gone was the cozy after-glow of sex as reality crashed in on him from all sides. Ross now felt as though he’d been doused with a bucket of cold water as he faced up to the unpalatable truth. Every time he loved a person, it ended badly. He couldn’t blight Darcy’s life, or her little girl’s. The best, the only thing, he could do to repay her for releasing him from his self-imposed prison would be to let her go.
Shit, he so did not want to do that. But there was no other way. She deserved way better than him−a guy living beneath a perpetual jinx.
“Hey,” he said, after they’d lain there in one another’s arms for a while and their slick bodies were starting to cool. “We’d best get showered, then you’re packing up your stuff and we’ll take it back to Hadleigh’s.”
She levered herself from his chest, and blinked in evident surprise. “Why?”
“Leo’s going to talk to Padron about Chloe. If word gets back to Garcia before Padron sees him, and trust me it might well do because you’re not his only spy, then he might try to get to you.” Ross shook his head. “Can’t have that. Need to keep you safe until Chloe’s back with you.”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts, darlin’.” Ross sent her a heated smile. “Besides, the weather’s set to get worse before it gets better. The lifts won’t be open tomorrow, so there’ll be no skiing.” His grin became positively lethal. “We’ll have to think about another way to spend the day.”
He could sense she still wanted to argue, but the thought of her being in danger that would keep her from Chloe clearly won the day.