by Lexi Blake
She was the reason he’d spent thirty days in a ridiculously expensive Palm Springs rehab center talking about feelings he didn’t really have and doing yoga he didn’t need to do.
How could he know unless he tried it again?
How was he supposed to socialize without alcohol? It was everywhere in the city. At every party and fund-raiser. Who trusted a lawyer who couldn’t handle his liquor?
One drink. That was all. If he could take that one drink and put the rest away, he would know it was all bullshit.
Please don’t stand up. Don’t walk into that room and take that first drink. You know where it leads to.
He was pathetic. That whiny voice in his head would go away if he took the drink. He’d done his good deed for the night. He’d allowed the sweetest fish he’d caught in a long time to swim right back into the ocean. He hadn’t dragged her to his depths and used her to forget everything he’d done and every crappy thing to come.
He deserved that drink.
Be a fucking man and call your sponsor. It’s not even midnight in L.A. He’ll be up.
But his cell wasn’t working, and the landline had finally gone out, too.
The universe was pointing the way. All roads led back to that little bottle.
He didn’t mean to stand up, but he did. He didn’t mean to start down the hallway, but he found himself there. He wasn’t going into his grandfather’s study. No. So why was his hand on the door?
A massive crack of thunder made the walls shake, and he heard a terrified scream.
Win.
Without another thought, he turned and raced to the guest room door. Thankful to find it unlocked, he threw it open, ready to confront whoever had made her cry out the way she had. Adrenaline coursed through his body, heightening his senses.
She was alone. No one else was in the room, but the covers had come undone and she was thrashing on the bed, moaning and pleading with some unknown attacker. Her eyes were closed, but it was obvious she was caught in a nightmare.
Henry took a deep breath. “Winnie? Win? Wake up, sweetheart. You’re having a bad dream.”
She gasped as though trying to breathe. Her hands came up to her throat.
He knelt on the bed. “Win, it’s time to wake up.”
What the hell was she dreaming about? Her body was completely stiff, every muscle fighting like someone was holding her down.
“Please wake up.” He wanted to reach out, but he wasn’t sure what was happening. Wasn’t it dangerous to wake someone in the middle of a dream? Or was that sleepwalking?
Her eyes flickered open, and she sat straight up in bed, still clearly in the grip of fear. A light sheen of sweat covered her forehead though it was perfectly cool in the house. She looked around as though desperate to figure out where she was.
“You’re in a house on Chappaquiddick Island.” He kept his distance despite the fact that he wanted to haul her into his arms and promise that whatever had happened to her wouldn’t happen again. It was so fucking unlike him, but the instinct was right there. “You got caught in a storm. My name is Henry, and I’m not going to hurt you.”
She was still for a moment, and then she took a deep breath and chuckled, a shaky sound. “I didn’t lose my memory, Henry. Just my damn mind. Did I scream?”
“Louder than the thunder.” He was the one taking a deep breath now.
Even in the low light, he could see the way she blushed. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to wake you up. I don’t like storms. I had a bad incident on a boat in a storm once.”
He didn’t buy that. “It looked like you were trying to get someone off you.”
She shivered lightly. “It was just a dream. I’m sorry I woke you up.”
This was the moment when he should stand up and tell her it was all right and walk away. He would close the door and . . . go back to staring at the storm? Go back to the office and finish his slow descent?
“I wasn’t sleeping,” he admitted. He didn’t want to leave her.
She moved closer, letting the sheet fall away. “Did I keep you awake?”
“Nope. My deep desire to drink my life away kept me awake. I’m six months sober, and when I was cleaning out the study earlier, I found a bottle of Scotch. It was why I was on the back porch when you came running up the beach. I was scared to be in the house with the Scotch. I forgot about it for a while, but after you went to bed, it was still here. I’ve spent the last couple of hours trying to decide if I was going to give in or not. I was just about to lose that fight when you screamed. Consider your nightmare to be my salvation for the night.” He would be honest with her, let her know how shitty a choice he was—even for a night. She hadn’t moved away from him, and the intimacy of being on a bed with her, the rest of the world held at bay by the storm, was getting to him. He needed her to make the decision to turn away this time because he wasn’t sure he could do it again.
Honesty was the only thing that could keep him sober, and he wasn’t being honest with himself before. Somehow, now that he was in a room with her, it was easier to be honest. She needed to know who she was dealing with—an alcoholic who had wrecked his life and was trying to put the pieces back together. Not a good bet if she was looking for something stable.
“I don’t think you should do that,” she said quietly. “I ate the cookie today. If I ate the cookie, I think you shouldn’t have the drink.”
She’d said it so seriously, he had to wonder. “What does that mean?”
“It means alcohol isn’t the only thing a person can get addicted to.” She turned her face to his, eyes somber in the low light. “Sometimes a person can get addicted to hurting herself. I know that sounds silly, but it was an addiction.”
He softened, his focus shifting back to her. It was easy to forget that some scars ran deep, unseen beneath the smooth surface presented to society. Some scars were hidden behind sweet smiles and innocent eyes. “You hurt yourself?”
She sat back against the headboard. “In a way. I wouldn’t eat. I got addicted to people telling me how pretty I was because I was thin. And even later, when they would tell me I looked horrible because I’d lost so much weight, I didn’t believe them. I would say ‘haters gonna hate.’ I was in Sweden because they have an amazing program to deal with anorexia. They taught me how to eat again, how to properly see myself as a whole human being. But you know what we started with?”
“Talking.” He knew exactly what she meant. He’d been through it. Maybe she wasn’t as young as he’d thought. Maybe she needed more than a gentlemanly distance. “You have to make a connection with the people around you, or it won’t ever work. You have to make real, honest connections.”
“You can’t be an island.” Her hand reached out, sliding over his. “I was dreaming about something that happened to me about six months ago. I was attacked, and a man nearly strangled me to death in an alley. Only the fact that a couple of kids came out of a nightclub and were looking for a shortcut back to their car saved me. I can’t stop thinking about it, and I don’t know how I’m going to get through the night if you don’t kiss me.”
There was nothing he wanted more than to kiss her, to lay her out and make a fucking feast of her. But he needed to not be the shit he’d been in the past. He needed to think about someone other than himself. “Win, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
She slipped off the bed and walked to the window. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to push you. I’m good. It’s not the first time I’ve had that particular dream. Won’t be the last. Just a little PTSD. Damn, it’s still coming down, isn’t it?”
He’d stepped in it. This was the world now. Before he’d been sure of his place, sure he was the master of his universe. Now he fumbled on a daily basis. It had been easier to not give a shit. “Win, you don’t know me.”
“I said it was okay. I’m not normally this aggressive. Yo
u do not have to worry. I won’t jump you or anything.” There was a tremble to her voice that let him know she was getting emotional. “I think I’ll go and make some tea, if that’s all right with you. Do you want some tea?”
He needed to stop being so damn wishy-washy. “I want to talk to you.”
“I might need a minute.”
If he gave her a minute, they would be back to polite. She would pull out Connect 4, and he wouldn’t find out if she could want him in an honest way. “Win, I’m an alcoholic. I’m divorced, and it wasn’t some thoughtful conscious uncoupling. It was nasty and ugly. I’m a lawyer who doesn’t give a shit if his clients are guilty or not as long as they have the money to pay me. I have gotten off people who probably went back out into the world to do terrible things, and I’ll probably do it again because I believe in this system. It’s imperfect, but it’s better than anything else. And I’m too old for you.”
She snorted, an oddly amusing sound. “I’m not some shrinking virgin. I’m twenty-nine, and I’ve been around the block a couple of times and with some men I wish I hadn’t ever gotten into the car with. How old are you? Forty?”
He winced. “Thirty-seven.”
Her lips curled up, and it was worth the blow to his ego. “Well, you don’t look a day over forty, and that’s a pretty nice age for a man. You think you don’t deserve such a young, hot chick?”
Thank god she was teasing him again. He’d hated the way her shoulders had slumped when she’d thought he’d rejected her. But still, he had to be honest. If he was going to do this, she would get the new Henry. “I think I could hurt a woman like you if I’m not careful.”
“Then be careful with me, Henry Garrison,” she said, moving closer to him. “And I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions and live with them. I would like to spend the night with you. It doesn’t have to last beyond tomorrow. I’m not asking to be your girlfriend. I’m asking you to help me get through the night, to help me get that nightmare out of my head, so I can feel safe for the first time in months. It’s been a long time since I felt safe.”
That he could do. She moved in close, right between his legs, and he reached up and cupped her face, holding her still as he looked into her eyes. So much fucking innocence. He didn’t care what she’d been through. She was way too young for him, but she’d said yes and he wasn’t a saint. Not even close. “Be sure. I might want more than one night. I’m here for a few weeks. I could use this. I could use some time with you.”
It wouldn’t work long-term. When he finished up and got back to the city, he wouldn’t have time to spend with her, and she deserved that. He would be knee-deep in the sewer again. It wasn’t a place he would take her, but he could be what she needed here.
“I could use some time with you,” she replied. “You’re right about a few things. I haven’t ever been around a man like you. The men I’ve been with have been boys who cared more about their images than they did about pleasing me. I think it might be different with you. I know you’re trying to scare me off with all that ‘I screwed up my life’ stuff, but I get that. You can’t make me run, or I would run away from myself. Tell me if you can make me forget about everything except what you’re doing to my body because tonight that’s all I want.”
Oh, he could do that. He might not be able to feed her soul, but he could work her body all fucking night long. He could stroke her and make her scream out his name, and when she did, he would feel like himself again, like he was worthy.
His whole body started to warm, his brain softening. Yeah, this was exactly what he needed. This was one indulgence he wasn’t going to feel guilty about because he’d given her every single way out and she hadn’t taken it. She was here. She wanted him. He’d been honest and open, and she was offering herself up like some sugary-sweet treat he’d been dying to taste.
He was done waiting, done asking. He had all the permission he needed. She wanted a night where she thought about nothing but his tongue on her, his cock inside her? He could make that happen. He stood up, his body coming into contact with hers. Henry lowered his mouth down, brushing his lips over hers for the first time.
He actually thought the words. For the first time. What the hell was that? He let it go because he was incapable of thinking in the moment. He wanted to feel, too. It had been so long. So long since he’d allowed himself to sink into another human being this way. Since he’d forgotten anything existed but her silky-soft skin and the way she shivered in his arms.
God, he’d gotten married and divorced, but he hadn’t had a true lover in years. He’d had a woman he slept with, but not one he let go with. Not one he was himself with.
He brushed his lips over hers again, not feeling the need to hurry at all. He didn’t want to rush a second of this. They had all night. They had until the storm cleared, and that could take a while. Until then, he had nothing to do except bring her pleasure. He’d come from a long line of fishing boat captains, men who’d charted the ocean. He would make a map of her, learning her every plane and angle, every curve and line of her body.
He kissed her over and over again. He let his hands sink into her hair. So much hair now that it was freed from the utilitarian ponytail. Soft and yet thick and strong, her hair was like silk against his skin.
She sighed, and her body brushed against his. He could feel her breasts and the hard points of her nipples as they came into contact, nothing but the thinnest of T-shirts between them.
Lightning struck outside, but it almost seemed as though it had hit his body, giving him an energy he hadn’t felt in forever. Electricity seemed to crackle between them, mimicking the storm outside. He deepened the kiss, running his tongue over her plump bottom lip. Her arms came up around his shoulders, and she let him in.
Something about the way she moved against him, trusting and eager, made the caveman come out again. A feeling of savage possession surged through him, and he dominated her mouth. He took over and let the kiss go from sweet to carnal in a heartbeat. His tongue found hers, rubbing and playing.
She gave as good as she got, not merely allowing him to overwhelm her but holding her own. Her arms tightened around him, and he could feel her nails grazing his skin as she ran her hands under his shirt and along his back.
He needed more. He wanted to feel her against him, nothing between them.
“How long has it been? I don’t care about anything you’ve done before, but I want to know how slow or fast I can go this first time.” He whispered the words against her lips before diving in again.
Those nails of hers dug in lightly, barely enough to make him shiver and tighten his hold on her hair.
“A while,” she replied, utterly breathless. “A year or so, and like I said, it wasn’t anything special. I had a boyfriend, but he wasn’t interested in anything more than getting off. I thought that was normal. I’ve heard a rumor it’s not.”
Oh, she was right up his alley. Smart and sassy and unafraid to challenge him. He wasn’t sure who she’d been before that she’d accepted scraps, but he was crazy about the woman she was now. He kissed his way along her jawline. “I don’t intend to get you off, sweetheart. That’s too juvenile a word for what I’m going to do to you.”
He needed to slow down, but he wasn’t about to explain. He wouldn’t lose her to insecurity again. She needed to know exactly what she deserved from a lover.
“What’s the right word?” Win asked, her body moving with his like they’d done this a thousand times before. A gentle tug on her hair, and she was offering him her neck.
He kissed his way up to her earlobe, whispering softly, “The word I want you to think about is ‘fuck,’ but I mean that in the best way, in the sweetest, most intimate terms. First I’m going to kiss every inch of this gorgeous body. I’m going to use my lips and tongue and, yes, I’ll use my teeth to get you ready. When you spread your legs for me, I’ll make a meal of you until y
ou scream. I’ll get my mouth on your pussy, and I won’t leave until I’ve had my fill. I won’t leave until you’re wet and slick and you beg me to fuck you.”
“Okay. Perfect. You should do that.”
“Does that sound good to you?”
“Yep.”
The fact that she seemed barely able to talk did something for him. Her body moved restlessly, her hands touching and cupping the muscles of his back and shoulders like she couldn’t bring herself to stop. He licked along the shell of her ear, eliciting a shiver from her, and then he gently nipped her earlobe.
She gasped but didn’t try to move away from him.
“Tell me what you’re thinking about.” He wanted to be damn sure she wasn’t thinking about anything but him.
“I’m thinking about you doing that thing.”
They had to work on her vocabulary. He turned her in his arms so her back was to his front and her delicious ass was pressed to just below his cock. He was already hard and ready, but there was no way he was letting his cock take control of this. He wasn’t giving in until he’d done everything he’d promised her. “Which thing is that, sweetheart?”
She leaned back into him. “All the things.”
He eased his hands under the Harvard T she was wearing as a nightshirt. Her clothes had dried earlier, and it seemed she’d found her undies again. He skimmed over them—enough time for that later—and brushed over her belly, moving toward her breasts. “I’m going to need you to be more specific, Win. What do you want me to do to you? Tell me. Say dirty words with that sweet mouth of yours.”
Her head fell back against his shoulder, making her breasts swell in his hands. They fit perfectly. Not too big. Not too small. Just right. He could cup them and make sure every part was cuddled by his hands. “This is nice. Touching my breasts feels good.”