by Skylar Kade
When she looked up, he was gone. She returned to the bed and curled on her side, emptier than before.
On a sea of unshed tears, she fell into a restless sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Later, when the room held a moonlit glow, David slipped under the covers with her.
She tensed, not knowing how this worked.
“I’m sorry.” His words scraped across her raw nerves. “I shouldn’t have left. I know better.”
She wanted to rail against him for making her body betray her. She’d slipped so easily into his fierce, tender loving she’d almost missed what was happening.
Blaming him for that wouldn’t help either of them. “Can we forget about it?”
His sigh shifted the hair at the nape of her neck, a whisper of a lover’s caress. “Do you want these friendly benefits to include sex?”
The moment lengthened, stretched, until it wrapped around her. “Yes.” The admission was easier when she could talk to the navy-blue wall in front of her, instead of to David himself.
“Then no, we can’t forget it.” When he moved, the bed dipped and her body shifted toward him until she lay on her back and David’s naked torso loomed over her.
She stared past his shoulder at the ceiling, not ready to see what his eyes said about yet another emotional land mine, but the weight of his stare called to her.
“Why do you bother with me?” She only realized she’d spoken aloud when his features tightened in anger.
With jerky movements he crowded her until his knees bracketed her thighs and nothing separated them but underwear.
She couldn’t fight this, not when she was so weary and he was so alive.
“I bother with you because you’re worth it.” He bit out the words as his angry eyes took hers hostage. One of his hands pressed between her breasts to cover her fluttering heart. “Because you’re such a damned good person, and you make me better just by being around you. Because seeing your tears breaks something inside me, and your smile puts me back together.”
Her words of denial never formed. David stole them with his kiss, swallowing her doubts and recriminations, if only for now.
Tears tracked down her cheeks. His, hers, she didn’t know which. Theirs.
“If this bit of you is all I ever get, I’ll die a happy man. And nothing—nothing—will stop me from being here for you as a friend. Not even you, doing your worst.”
She slid her hand between them to cup his erection, deciding to seize the moment. She was tired of fighting with herself.
He cupped her jaw and kissed her damp cheeks. “Let me love you, just for tonight.”
She’d deal with the fallout tomorrow. “Yes.”
Relief colored his deep sigh. He shifted so her hand could slide beneath the waistband of his briefs, and when he growled her name, tendrils of assurance unfurled in her.
She’d brought him pleasure. Pride bolstered her—she wanted to hear him moan again.
Maybe she couldn’t return his affections, but she could give him this.
She pushed him to his back, and he let her explore as his fingers dug into the sheets.
First her hands, then her mouth, followed the lines of his body: the strong chin, the defined shoulders, the indent that bisected his chest, the soft trail of hair leading to the silky length of his erection. He smelled musky and clean, and the scent dismantled what was left of her control.
With tentative licks, she discovered the gentle ridges and tight curves of his body, learning what made him twitch and what made him groan. And when she finally took him into her mouth, his shoulders jerked off the bed and his hands reached for empty air.
He let her torture him for long minutes. Each time he breathed her name, her eagerness for him grew.
“Enough.” He breathed like he’d just run the stairs up to the condo.
He wrested control, and she took his place. His shoulders spread her thighs and exposed her to him.
If he hadn’t stared at her so reverently, hadn’t laid kisses along her stomach and down to the tender juncture of her hip and thigh without breaking eye contact, she would have been self-conscious. “I’ve never…”
His lips crept closer to her aching center. “Ever?”
She bit her lip. Sex was fine. It didn’t require eye contact or real intimacy, not the way she normally did it—quickly, efficiently and only when essential.
This was different. David’s hot gaze locked her attention, invited her to think of all the wicked, pleasurable, addictive things he could do with his mouth.
With sex, both she and her partner could take pleasure, but now all of David’s attention was on her alone.
If she were with anyone else, she would have refused, but between the desperate need building in her and the wicked promise in his eyes, she couldn’t.
“Not until tonight, no.” She exhaled her confession before she could think twice.
“Oh, sweetheart, reach above your head and grab the headboard.”
She was laid out like a wanton, and he made her wait. He stroked her breasts, around her nipples, slid his fingertips down her sides and palmed her hips, until her skin itched with need. He followed each touch with his lips, with his tongue, with hot wet kisses. Her hips jerked up, needing to quell the growing ache inside her.
When his lips finally, finally enclosed her nipple, she shouted his name. Her hands clenched the headboard as if squeezing hard enough could trap the moment forever.
His thighs nudged hers apart and he pressed against her center. She writhed, reaching for an elusive orgasm.
He released her nipple, and she almost sobbed in agony, until he turned his attention to her other side. Licks and nibbles peaked that nipple until just a cool breath across the point made her cry out.
“That’s how I want you. Mussed hair. Heavy eyes. So needy you can’t think beyond this second.”
She nodded, as if it would entice him to touch her more. When his hot breath blew across her exposed thighs, her skin prickled in anticipation.
With his thumbs, he parted her and though she would have felt too vulnerable only days ago, tonight she begged him to go faster.
The first touch of his lips was her undoing. The sensation didn’t make her fly apart, but each lick tore away another layer of isolation, flaying her alive as she edged toward orgasm.
How would she ever survive this? How could she ever ask him to stop?
One long, elegant finger slipped into her and stroked across her G-spot, breaking her apart.
“David, oh God, David.” She came against his mouth until tears stained her cheeks and her body lay as boneless as a rag doll.
She heard the tear of a condom wrapper before David stretched out over her, his erection lying warm and heavy against her slit. He stroked her arms and her hair, murmuring sweet nothings until she finally begged for more.
That compelled him to act. David sank into her, filling her core and slipping into a piece of her heart she hadn’t wanted to admit was empty. The orgasm-satisfied part of her body celebrated, while her mind railed against the intimacy.
She ignored her fears and doubts.
They moved in unison until, with one final thrust, she flew apart around him again and he came with her name on his lips.
He tucked her against his chest and held her as she cried. She’d shed more tears in one night than she had in the previous decade.
He would be her undoing, but at least she recognized it.
“Fall apart tonight, Carrie. I won’t let you lose yourself. It’ll all be okay.” His soothing words lulled her to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
When David opened his eyes, sunlight streamed through the room. Carrie curled into his side as if that very spot was made for her. He debated getting up to make breakfast, but after yesterday’s issue with the French toast—which he still hadn’t gotten a satisfactory explanation about—he decided to play it safe and stay in bed.
Oh, the hardships he endured for h
er. With a soft snicker, he enveloped her warm, supple body with his arms and watched her sleep. The dark circles under her eyes had faded and, though a day of good eating wasn’t enough to undo a month of bodily stress, she looked stronger. Her hair shimmered against his white pillow, a far cry from the dull, lifeless mass it had been when she’d returned.
She twitched in her sleep, her fingers pawing at his chest. A broad, stupid smile grew on his face and only faded when little muscle spasms turned into full-on thrashing. Whimpers choked her. David loosened his hold, not wanting to trigger a worse nightmare.
“Daddy!” she cried out, her voice small and innocent. “No!”
She undid him and, even if he knew better, he couldn’t sit back and watch her suffer. He cushioned her body with his to take her angry thrashing blows because that pain hurt less than doing nothing. He pressed soft kisses to her lips and let gentle platitudes tumble from his mouth until she settled and her eyes slipped open.
“Another nightmare?” Her voice was raspy from the screaming tears she’d shed.
He nodded. “Do you remember?”
She hesitated. He saw the lie tempt her, but with a sigh she shrugged. “It’s an old one.”
Gaze level and solid, he waited until she continued. “My dad—” she cleared her throat and swallowed, “—he died. When I was a senior in high school.”
“The year you were on independent study?”
Her eyes closed and hid the pain he’d only seen for a flash. “Yes.” All the fight had left her body. She lay there, limp against him. Resigned. “I killed him.”
His world froze. He held his breath and waited for the full story, holding back his wild imagination through sheer belief in Carrie.
“Not technically, but close enough. It was my fault.”
He exhaled and reached for her clenched fist. He pressed his lips to each knuckle until she opened her hand. Kisses to her palm followed and he dipped his tongue into each angry, red groove her nails had created.
“I was a selfish brat, and he was out…” she paused, and he watched her weigh her words, “…doing me a favor, because I couldn’t be bothered to do it myself.”
The omission from her story, whatever it was, sank heavily in the still bedroom air. When he didn’t press her, relief made her shoulders sag.
She squeezed his hand. “He was killed by a hit-and-run driver at eight in the morning. The guy was methed out of his mind, we eventually found out.”
Tremors ran through her body, and he pulled her closer, absorbing them, begging her to share her burden. “Afterwards, my mother kind of lost it. She was in and out of therapy, which didn’t do any good, and I was barely dealing with it.
“One of the forensics experts on the case started coming around regularly to update us on the case. Even after they found the guy responsible, he always found reasons to stop by and check on us. It had actually been the break in the case they needed to shut down the biggest meth lab in the county.”
She shrugged, and a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “He was good for my mom, and me too. He was patient and got me interested in forensics, and we both know how that turned out.”
“Where is he now?”
Her smile grew. “Oh, probably with my mother. It took him a decade, but he wore her down eventually. Chris is a good guy.”
“If your mother’s anything like you, waiting a decade is nothing.”
The room went silent. Carrie didn’t breathe, didn’t move.
She continued like he’d never said anything. “Thanks for listening. I think the French toast yesterday triggered this one. Every Saturday, my dad made that for breakfast.”
“Then I’m glad I burned it.”
She buried her face in the crook of his arm. “Me too.”
“We’ll do something else for breakfast today.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I thought I agreed to one day.” A smile played at the edges of her lips. “I don’t know if I can stand another day of vacation.”
David rolled her under his body, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Oh really? Good to know my company is so unbearable.”
“Like going to the dentist.” Her fingers combed through his hair. “I like your hair this long. It makes you look roguish.”
One hand skimmed down her side, running over her curves. She bucked against him when his thumb swiped across her nipple. “Don’t distract me with compliments. I’ve got plans for you today, Dr. Farrow.” He leaned in and waggled his eyebrows. “Evil plans.”
Her laughter erupted in the morning quiet. “I might need some convincing.”
He fumbled in his bedside drawer for a condom, sheathed himself, then positioned his cock at her entrance. With a flick of his hips, he dragged across her clit. She clawed at his arms and moaned.
He ground against her but refused the cant of her hips that begged for him to take her. She writhed, pressing onto his length, but he stopped her with a hand splayed across her abdomen. Her growls of frustration tugged at his patience, but as much as he wanted to drive himself into her, the delayed gratification would be worthwhile.
Instead, he ducked his head to nibble a trail from her earlobe, down her neck, then to the upper swell of her breast. She clutched his head close while he bit and sucked around her nipples.
“David, please!”
That’s what he wanted to hear. He flicked his tongue across one taut peak, and her shuddery exhale made pride rear in his chest. He laved her other nipple, giving it thorough attention before he leaned back took in the view.
Carrie sprawled across the pillows, her lust-dark eyes running over his body. “I need you now, David.”
While his thumb rubbed circles over her clit, he entered her and began a slow thrusting rhythm until she grabbed at his arms and pulled him down. This close, her every breath fanned across his chest, right over his heart.
She locked her legs around his back so tightly he could only grind against her. Her little sighs turned into a full-out moan as he rubbed across her clit with every undulation.
The pale expanse of her torso, dotted with scars, called to him. He nipped at the curve of her breast and her desperate cry made him do it again, harder.
The urge to mark her overtook him. His teeth sank into her tender flesh and Carrie went wild underneath him and dragged her nails across his back. He sucked at her skin and felt her clench around him in response.
“David—” Her words were lost in a keening cry and her body shook in his arms.
He laid a kiss on her lips then peeked at his handiwork. A red, bruised circle graced her breast, ringed in little teeth marks. He’d never been quite so animalistic in bed, but the sight of his mark on her made him crazy with need.
Carrie looked down, traced her thumb over the hickey, then gave him a wicked grin that ripped away his control. He bucked into her—once, twice—then groaned against the sweet curve of her neck as he came.
He rolled to the side and pulled her against himself while he caught his breath. Her fingers played with the hair on his chest. “If I spend another day with you, can we do more of that?”
“There’s one promise I’m happy to make. Is there anything else you’d like to do, or should we just stay in bed the whole day?” He gave his most lecherous smile and she laughed.
“Wednesday? I usually go shooting.”
Now it was his turn to clam up. “I forgot you had your firearms license.” He slid out of bed and headed for the closet while he swallowed his instinctive protest. He wanted to meet her needs during this week. “We could do that today.”
Silence met his words. He turned to look at her, and she was staring at him, curled around her bent knees. Hiding her body from him.
With a sigh, he returned to the bed and brushed aside the hair falling across her face.
“Carrie, look at me.”
Her wary eyes met his. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, baby. You didn’t.” He kissed her forehead a
nd wrapped her up in a hug. “Do you need to go shooting today?”
“Need, no. But I’d feel better if I did.” She uncurled and got out of the bed. “I should go shower. I’ll pack up my guns and meet you back here in a bit.”
All the worry he’d shed yesterday rushed back in a deafening swarm. He wanted to haul her back onto the bed and lecture her about gun safety. Instead, he counted back from ten. “You keep guns in your condo?”
She buttoned up her jeans then turned to search for her shirt. “Where else would I keep them? I have a gun safe, though one of the pistols is unloaded in my bedside drawer, with a full clip in the other side’s drawer.”
Frustrated by her complete disregard for the danger of firearms in the house, he returned to the closet. If she wanted to start the day, he might as well join her. “Why the hell would you keep any gun out of your safe?”
Her scowl would have flayed a weaker man. “Judgmental much? I was attacked in Boston a couple of years ago, when I was on a really ugly serial-killer case.” She pulled apart the unbuttoned sides of her shirt to expose the long, jagged scar on her side that he’d wondered about since their first night together. “He only had a knife, which is why I’m here. I had nothing. My gun was locked away, safe and fucking useless.” She stalked across the room and got in his face. “If I’d had my gun, it would’ve saved me forty stitches and five days in the hospital.”
Relief at her safety dueled with his healthy wariness of guns. He let his jeans and tee-shirt drop to the floor and tugged her closer, until skin-on-skin contact sizzled throughout his body.
He’d fucked up this exchange, even though he knew better. Communication was supposed to be his thing, but here he was, blowing the conversations that mattered the most. With a heavy sigh, he conceded the point. “It’s good you can protect yourself.” With each breath he took, her warm body, alive and against his own, worked to loosen the knot of fear she incited in him. “And it looks like you’ve had to quite a bit.” He traced her exposed skin, his fingers finding scar after scar.
“Exactly.” She cupped his jaw, earnest curiosity in her furrowed brow. “Do guns bother you? Or is it just the way I keep mine?”