Fool’s Paradise: Cartwright Brothers, Book 5

by Anderson, Lilliana

  Once I drained my glass, he took it back then returned it to the sink where he rinsed it and placed it on the sideboard to dry. I stared at his naked arse the entire time, watched his panther-like body move across the room, his cock a pendulum swaying in time with his steps. It’d been a long time since I’d met a man so mesmerising. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Lucky for me, I could keep him for an entire week.

  One week. It didn’t feel like enough.

  “I want to take the full fourteen days to get back to Torquay,” he burst out with.

  “Are you serious?” I asked, tracking him as he walked around the bed and got in beside me, so at ease in his own skin he didn’t even attempt to cover up.

  “Yeah. We can do the trip how that website suggests, see Pink Lake, stand in two states at once, experience the Twelve Apostles before they’re eroded away. What do you think?” Two weeks. Two weeks in this man’s bed and I may never walk straight again. Still, the time felt too fleeting. How much would be enough?

  “I think,” I started, taking in the excited glint that lit up his eyes. I found myself smiling, getting caught up in his energy. If I was a sensible woman, I would have added, “we should travel as fast as possible. One week is already pushing it.” But we’d already established that I was not a sensible woman, so my response went more like this: “That sounds perfect, Toby.”

  He grinned. “Really?” he asked, like I had to give him permission. As far as I was concerned, the journey between Perth and Torquay would be the last days of our lives. If he wanted to slow that time down, spend it fucking and sightseeing, then I was all in, baby.

  “Really,” I said with a laugh as he rolled onto his back and sighed.

  “I feel like seeing all that beauty will fill my soul so I can get through this job. The job to end all jobs.” He sucked the air through his nose and looked at me, his eyes so clear and sincere that I couldn’t breathe for a moment. “Then we’ll never have to fight again.” He held his hand out, palm up, and I placed mine inside it, fingers tangled as we wrapped them together.

  “Because it will be over.”

  “One way or another.” He squeezed my hand. Death was so final.

  “Let’s pretend we’re different people,” I said in a whisper, sliding a little closer because I knew this would sound silly to most people, but to a man like Toby, who’d been living a double life for years, it might

  just be what he needed to lose himself a little. “Invent a whole backstory of how we met and where we’re headed. Maybe we’re insurance brokers, tired of the rat race and taking a year off work to travel around Australia.”

  He quirked a brow. “We’re not Nikki and Tom holidaying while you’re on leave from the Navy anymore?”

  I shook my head. “No way. You’re never in the armed forces around strangers. You can’t know who’s served and what questions they might ask. You’ve got to choose boring occupations that no one wants to talk about—accountants, insurance brokers, maths teachers. Stuff like that.”

  “OK. I’ll be a maths teacher.”

  I giggled. “You?”

  “You literally just suggested it.”

  “Yeah but, have you seen yourself? If I’d had you for maths in high school, I never would have dropped out.”

  “You dropped out?”

  I nodded. “Year ten.”

  “How about”—a grin crept across his face as he shifted his weight, bracing himself over me, looking down—“we say I was your maths teacher.”

  “Yes.” I grinned back, wriggling beneath him as I slid my hands over his corded arms. “And I was so bad in class that you always kept me in. Then one thing led to another, and—”

  His mouth landed on mine, tongue pushing in and causing me to whimper from longing. I was sober. Far too sober for such intensity, but I was equally drunk on him and the way he was making me feel, like a woman who wasn’t me, a woman who had hope in her heart, a life to be proud of and people who cared for her. Let’s pretend….

  * * *

  “It was a bit of a scandal at the time,” I said as Toby slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Even though we waited until after I finished year twelve, there were still a lot of questions. Poor Tony was raked over the coals by the school system. My parents acted as though he’d stolen my innocence. It was awful. I was eighteen, he was twenty-five, and I suppose I didn’t have the maturity back then to fight. We broke up within the year and didn’t reconnect until a couple of years ago when he sought me out on Facebook.” I looked up into his amused face and smiled, sliding my hand over his thigh. “That spark was still there and we’ve been together ever since.”

  Toby smiled as he sipped at his wine then kissed me on the forehead for added impact. He was getting good at this.

  “That’s just beautiful,” said the woman we’d been telling our story to. She had that soft look in her eyes that told me she’d eaten up every word. “All those years apart and you still loved each other.” She clasped her hands in front of her chest as she glanced at her husband. “Isn’t that just beautiful, Burt?”

  “Lovely,” Burt said, red-nosed and possibly onto his second bottle of wine. We were meant to swish and spit along the Margaret River wine tour, but there were some of us who couldn’t bring ourselves to waste good alcohol—me included. But, I could hold my liquor better than Burt could.

  Now, we were in the restaurant, sitting on a long table with several other couples, filling our bellies with stone-fired pizzas, antipasto and a selection of cheese. I was really enjoying myself.

  “Well, who could forget a girl like Clair.” Toby grinned. “She’s one in a million.”

  Seemed Toby was enjoying our make-believe life too. I smiled up at him and happily welcomed the soft kiss he pressed to my lips, squirming in my seat when his lips moved to my ear and he added, “I hope Clair enjoys fucking as much as Blair does. That dress is really doing it for me.” His eyes dropped to my exposed cleavage, returning to mine with an added devilish grin.

  Looking at him through my lashes, I kept my voice low as I spoke. “She does. But, she’s not very experienced. You might have to teach her a few things to bring out her inner goddess.”

  Sitting back against his chair, he chuckled. “Inner goddess,” he repeated, reaching for his glass and taking a sip before engaging in conversation with another man on the table. While he was busy, I took a moment to study his profile and enjoy the relaxed smile on his face. The contrast between this man and the man in his photos really struck me. Here, he seemed happy and carefree. I didn’t think it was because he was with me, pretending to be two people with completely different lives and backgrounds. I’d seen this in him on the day I’d met him. He was happy in his own life, happy away from his family, happy just living. I had ruined all of that by tracking him down and bringing a wave of destruction that was ultimately forcing him to the place he’d run from. It was the first time in my entire career I’d felt bad for tracking somebody down. He’s too good for this life.

  Throwing his head back in laughter, he turned my way and asked if I’d heard what the other guy had said before filling me in on the story.

  I smiled and laughed at the right places, all the while listening to the voice inside my head telling me I was this gentle giant’s ruin. I’m the devil in this story.

  With the tour over, we were deposited back to our holiday park where our new friend’s invited us back to their caravan to partake in more wine and laughter. Toby shook his head and held out his hand in friendship. “I think we’ll have to take a rain check, Burt. I need to spend some alone time with my girl here. You understand, right?”

  Burt nodded with a sly grin and shook Toby’s hand. His wife went bright red and giggled.

  “Oh, of course! You two have fun now,” she sing-songed.

  “Oh, I plan to,” Toby said with a wink before hooking an arm around my shoulders and ushering me towards our camper.

  The moment he opened the door, I practically fell inside, lau
ghing from the look on that woman’s face. “Oh, I plan to,” I mimicked as Toby placed our purchased wine on the small kitchen counter then came up on me, his intentions obvious as he pinned me against the cabin wall.

  “Tony and Claire have a lot of lost time they need to make up for,” he said, lifting the hem of my dress until his hands gripped onto the flesh at my waist then pushed up over my ribs, fingers firm until he released me and lifted the dress over my head, leaving me in nothing but my panties and a strapless bra. I was heaving from desire.

  “I don’t deserve you,” I whispered, catching his face in my hands and running my fingertips through his stubble.

  “Because you didn’t stand by me when the school was investigating our affair?” he asked, a teasing grin at the side of his mouth.

  “Something like that,” I murmured as he brought his lips to mine and kissed me with such passion, I felt lifted from the floor. I wanted to tell him I didn’t deserve him at all, that I wasn’t a good person, and that if I only had two weeks until I entered a war I was unlikely to walk away from, I wouldn’t be spending them with me, the person who brought this shit back into his life, the person who hunts people with no remorse for what awaits them when they’re found.

  We’d known each other for three days, and already, he’d treated me better than every man I’d ever met, collectively.

  I didn’t deserve him.

  As he pulled the bra from my body and gathered my breasts in his hands, he squeezed and sucked, swirling his tongue around my nipples until I was a gasping mess, taking the time to tell me how gorgeous he thought I was, how he loved the way I reacted to his touch, and that he couldn’t stop wanting me.

  I don’t deserve him.

  My eyes burned as he worshiped every inch of my skin with his fingers, his mouth and his words.

  I am not this kind of woman.

  Forcing myself to calm the fuck down, I gave myself an internal pep talk, reminding myself who I was: Blair-fucking-Page, private investigator, tracker extraordinaire. My hourly rate was enough to make a neurosurgeon balk. I commanded every situation I stepped into, and I was never a victim. Always in control. Happy on my own. I need to harden the fuck up.

  “Wait,” I said, pushing against his shoulders as he hooked his thumbs in the waist of my panties. He looked up, curiosity and a touch of concern in his gaze, relaxing the moment he saw my smile. I slid my fingers in his hair and pulled from the roots. “It’s my turn to do you.”

  With a sly grin, he rested back on his haunches, nodding slightly before rising to his feet. “Clair likes to be in control, huh?”

  I placed a hand in the centre of his chest and shoved. The man was built and steady as a rock, still; he shifted backwards until he was leaning against the counter, watching me with interest.

  “She loves it,” I said, licking my lips as I forced my hands steady while I worked at his belt buckle and tore open his pants. “Know what else she loves?” I touched the tip of my tongue to my front teeth.

  He quirked a brow in question, seeming to be thoroughly enjoying what he considered as roleplay, but what I considered getting a hold of my stupid emotions.

  Dropping to my knees, I tugged his pants down, wrapping my hand around his giant cock when it sprung free. “Swallowing giant cocks,” I said, before running my tongue over the bulging tip. “She can’t get enough.”

  He moaned as I opened my mouth around his girth, testing to see if I could fit it in. It was a stretch, but I managed, and I wasn’t willing to stop there. I wanted to take him all the way, a trick I’d learned at a young age and turned into my advantage. Men loved deep throat.

  “Holy fuck, Blair.”

  Toby was no exception.

  He hissed through his teeth as my eyes watered and my throat expanded, taking him further than was comfortable, because this was what I did. I did things other girls wouldn’t or couldn’t do; I did things that brought men to their knees, begging me for more. And I did them because it gave me a sense of power. And feeling powerful meant I didn’t feel scared. I hated feeling scared.

  In fact, I hated feeling all together.

  “Fuck, Blair, I’m gonna come.”

  Then come.

  Digging my fingers into his arse cheeks, I clamped down, letting him know I wouldn’t quit until he’d let go. And he did. Seconds later, he groaned, and his cock pulsed in my mouth, prompting me to release him and run my hand up and down his shaft as his hot cum spread all over my chest and ran between my breasts, down to my stomach.

  Breathless, panting, I felt the power surging through my veins as he stood above me, breathing heavy through parted lips.

  I looked up, a triumphant grin on my face as I readied myself for words of praise, the ones that told me I was the best they’d ever had.

  But they didn’t come.

  Instead, he said nothing. He took a few calming breaths as he looked down, taking in the state of me, a question in his eyes as he assessed me. “What the fuck just happened?” his seemed to say, making me feel as though I’d done something wrong. I had this instant flare up in my gut, a little voice crying, “Please don’t be mad.” Again, I was feeling things I didn’t want to feel.

  Damn him.

  How is he even doing this?

  “Blair,” he breathed, grabbing a cloth then sliding down until he was kneeling in front of me. I looked at him with wide, rapid blinking eyes as he pressed his lips together then brought the cloth to my chest, wiping the semen away with gentle swipes. “I love head as much as the next guy. But I don’t need this.” He cleaned me like I was a child who’d made a mess while eating, everything about him soft and kind while I stayed frozen to the spot, too shocked to move, too surprised to speak. “I don’t need you to act like a porn star so I can get off. Porn isn’t even real, and the guys who get off on that shit aren’t paying attention to their women.” When he finished cleaning me up, he hooked a finger under my chin and tilted my head until I met his eyes. His captivating, windows to his emotions, eyes.

  I am not going to cry here.

  “I happen to love paying attention to my woman,” he murmured, brushing his fingers through my hair and tucking it behind my ear before trailing his fingertips along my jaw. His woman. “I love tasting every part of you, drawing out your gasps and moans. I love the sound of my name when your voice is thick and you’re about to explode. And I love the moment after you come when you can hardly speak and your breasts are heaving, cheeks and lips bright pink, your eyelids heavy. I fucking love it, love that it was me who made you lose yourself, because you’re always in control, Blair. Always. Except for when I’m inside you.”

  “Huh.” It wasn’t a question or a protest, just a simple sound akin to ‘oh god’, or ‘I can’t fight when you talk like that’, but in a much more basic, caveman-like language, because this man was undoing me, caring about me, noticing me. I didn’t know what to say.

  So, I didn’t say anything at all. Instead, I collided with him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he caught me about my waist, our mouths connecting, tongues diving as we held on so tight that there was absolutely no space between my chest and his. It was a struggle to breathe, impossible to think, which was just as well, because I didn’t want to think anymore. I wanted to be his plaything and ignore everything outside his embrace. No matter what role he was playing—Toby, Tom, Tony—it was the one place I felt entirely safe. In his arms.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Broken Together

  “Maybe pretending is a bad idea,” Toby said into the dark of the camper van, lying next to me, smelling like soap and warmth. I rolled into him and placed my hand on his chest, my head swimming from all the wine and sex. Touching him helped me feel grounded.

  “We can’t exactly tell people the truth,” I whispered.

  “I mean between us. I want to hope for the best here, but I don’t like our odds against Grey’s men. I want to be… me, unapologetically.”

  “Unapologetically? That’s an inte
resting word choice.”

  “I’ve just…” His chest lifted my hand before he sighed. “I’ve always hidden part of who I am. I hid my real life from my daughter, and my daughter from my family. I played the part of the dutiful son, played the patriarch when my brothers needed it. And even when I left, and I told myself I was finally doing something for me, I was still hiding what I used to be, still living the lies I’d been telling all my life.” The bed linen shuffled as he turned his face to mine. “If there are only two weeks left in this life for us, if you and I are the last people we ever get to be with or know, don’t you want to let go of all the bullshit pretence and just be you?”

  “Unapologetically.”

  “Yeah,” he said, like I’d been the one to coin the term instead of just repeating his word back to him. “Tonight. The wine tour. It was fun. But I enjoy you most when you’re not pretending to be someone else.”

  “Maybe I’m always pretending.”

  “A person can’t pretend twenty-four hours a day without falter, Blair. I’ve seen you drop your guard. I like that part of you.”

  “You make me feel vulnerable,” I whispered, closing my eyes when I felt his big arm slide around my waist and pull me nearer. “Don’t. I don’t need comfort.”

  “I do. Everybody needs comfort, Blair. Touch is a basic human need.”

  “That’s the problem, though. I don’t want to need anybody.”

  “That’s a very lonely existence.”

  “I like being alone…” I let the words trail off. I’d said them so many times, but this time even I didn’t believe them.

  Moving his hand so that his fingers trailed up and down my spine—exactly the way I liked it—he waited a moment for my words to dissipate in the air. “When we were watching Lucy’s house the other day, you told me you’d always had to fight. You delivered it so flippantly, then added that at least in your job you got to choose the reason you were fighting.”