by Rachel Cross
He pulled her gently toward him, correctly interpreting her concern.
“Second thoughts?” he asked gently, lips playing at her cheeks, her forehead.
“No,” she got out, breathless.
He leaned back and stared at her, his eyes fierce. “You’re beautiful.”
She looked away, suddenly shy, overwhelmed by the feel of his naked body pressed against hers. She shivered from the heat. His hands went around her back and unclasped her bra; she shrugged it off, eager to press her aching breasts to his chest. She was barely aware of him stripping off her panties, but she did feel his hand slowly, gently, spread her legs, one finger rubbing where she was hot, slick, and aching. She moaned and clenched her thighs, trapping his marauding hand. He gentled her with a deep kiss, his other hand trailed down her back. Her thighs relaxed and his long fingers stroked, coaxed and finally, slowly he pushed one finger into her. She jerked, panted and laid her head on his chest while he worked magic with his fingers.
“Ah, God,” he groaned. “You are so tight.”
She held onto him for all she was worth. Every sense was completely overloaded — the feel of his smooth skin, his hard cock pressed to her belly, fingers stretched and stroking, building an insistent ache within her. She trembled, legs weak. She didn’t want to come this way. Not the first time. He withdrew his hand and she yanked his hips toward her, insistent, but he turned her away from him to pull back the duvet. She climbed onto the bed and lay, naked, excited, and unbearably aroused. He reached down to his jeans on the floor and pulled out a gold foil wrapped packet. He tore it, then rolled it over himself with trembling hands, the mattress dipping as he joined her on the bed.
He opened her knees with gentle hands, and she watched him tower over her; she heard his shuddering breath. Arching her back, she closed her eyes. He knelt between her legs, his hair roughened thighs spreading her smooth pale limbs still farther apart. The tip of his arousal stroked her slick cleft, and she pushed down with her hips, desperate to pull him in. She shook in earnest now. Nervous, excited, inflamed.
He planted his forearms on the bed and slowly, slowly moved inexorably forward. Despite her arousal, she gasped and tensed at the thick, hot, almost uncomfortable intrusion. She opened her eyes, met his hot blue gaze. He froze, panting, waiting, giving her time to accustom herself to his body. She shifted, trying to ease his entry and he groaned her name. Her hands went to his hips and she held him, gazes still locked, he withdrew. With an unintelligible curse, he thrust in to the hilt. A helpless cry escaped her at the sudden discomfort and they both tensed.
He dropped his head into the curve of her neck, his body heaving and damp.
“God. Kate,” he said through a groan.
Slowly, he moved, giving her time to accommodate him. He took her lips, licked inside her mouth, ate at her. The discomfort passed. She knew only the insistent throbbing ache. He stroked all the way out, then slowly back in. Her legs locked around his hips and she arched to meet his thrusts. He quickened the pace, and she clutched at him, mindless, gasping. With a sudden hard thrust he sent her over the edge and she came apart with a low scream, her legs nerveless now, quivering. His hips bucked against her. She was only vaguely aware of his big body shuddering over hers as he pumped wildly into her, then came with a long, low guttural sound.
She lay still and limp under him, his weight mostly supported on his arms. He hung his head, until his forehead touched the damp flesh over her racing heart. She smelled the musky odor of sex and man, felt the intermittent pulse of her body, closed her eyes, exhausted, sated, and buoyant.
• • •
Slowly, careful not to wake her, Alec moved to his side, her hips tucked against his, still inside her, unwilling to withdraw from her body. One arm pillowed her head, the other stroked her silky skin from waist to thigh absently. Despite his experience, that was unequivocally the most intense, shattering, humbling moment of his life. He’d intended to prolong her pleasure, see to her satisfaction not once, but several times. Instead, it had taken every ounce of self-control to hold off. He had come right on the heels of her orgasm, and he considered himself fortunate that she had come so quickly. He had been out of control from the onset. The hunger, the all-consuming passion, the intensity of the whole experience left him stunned. She was clueless, of course; he swallowed a groan. She probably thought sex was always like that. Oh, the irony. Being with her took everything he thought he knew about sex, and turned it on its head.
“Kate,” he murmured, and as she shifted, still fast asleep, he felt a wave of tenderness toward the beautiful girl in his arms. He’d never felt anything remotely like it, nor did he have any idea what to make of it. Now, lying in her bed, with her wrapped around him, his feelings were impossible to ignore. This was different. She was different. He racked his brain, trying to remember if he’d ever felt this tender affection and wonder for another soul. It was like being stripped bare. He closed his eyes and willed it away.
Chapter 15
One week of joy. Joy interrupted by Alec’s frequent trips to Los Angeles for pressing work matters, but joy nevertheless. Alec felt like a school kid experiencing his first crush. They could not keep their hands off one another. Insatiable. Insane. Yet humbling and tender. Happiness had dulled his initial fears of being so emotionally exposed to her.
“You’ve never asked me about my sobriety,” he said. Kate was lying in his arms and they were having a lazy morning. Between his work in Los Angeles and her work/sleep schedule, it was tough to find enough time to be with her.
Kate shrugged. “It seems personal. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“This feels pretty personal.” He trailed his fingers over her abdomen, and she shivered, pressing herself against his body.
“What? Sex? Personal? This is casual,” she instructed him and pressed her lips gently to his. Her scent, the feel of her hot skin, he would never get enough of her.
Disconcerted, he pulled back to look into her face.
“Kate, seriously? You have to know that this,” he gestured to their entwined bodies, “is not casual.” He blew out a slow breath “The sex part is … ” he paused, searching for the right words, “unbelievable. It’s like some cosmic joke that the most intense sex of my life is with a virgin.” He shook his head and captured her lips.
A long time later, she brought the conversation back to his sobriety. “So tell me.”
“I don’t want to, but I think you need to know. I hate that I was an idiot for so long. I hate that I have days and weeks, hell, years missing from my life. A life full of holes.”
She rolled over on top of him and met his gaze. “I think you are looking at it the wrong way. You are focusing too much on the holes and not enough on what you accomplished. So tell me what made you finally quit the drinking and drugs,” she insisted.
“People had been trying to get me to quit for a long time, Kate. People I cared about, people I didn’t. Toward the end, I’d wake up every day so sick, in pain. I couldn’t function, couldn’t make music. It was hell.”
She held him close. “I know something about addiction,” she said calmly, “we see addicts of all shapes, sizes, and stages in the hospital. I’m not judging you. I know it’s a disease and I know it’s hard.”
He squeezed her. Most people who thought they understood addiction didn’t. Anyone who referred to addicts as “recovered” clearly didn’t. Temptation waxed and waned but was always there. As a nurse, Kate probably did understand addiction better than most, but nowhere near the way someone who loved an addict in the throes of their disease did.
“I’d known plenty of people in my business, friends, acquaintances, some talented people who overdosed. I knew where I was headed, and I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I didn’t make the connection.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’d promise myself and other people I’d quit, b
ut I used every day for years. I’d suffer through a few hours of painful sobriety, maybe most of a day occasionally, but withdrawal from the alcohol and the assortment of stuff I was on … well, it was pretty bad. Then, eleven years ago, Neal overdosed and died. I wasn’t there when it happened.” He stared at Kate. “I know there are all kinds of ridiculous stories and conspiracy theories about what happened to him, but that’s all bullshit. He was an addict. He overdosed. End of story.”
She met his eyes. He couldn’t hold her gaze and covering his face with a forearm, he continued.
“Cooper was the most insanely talented person I ever met, and the most unhappy. And that’s saying something in this business. He was cruel drunk, wretched sober, and yet you could overlook his utter lack of charm because he was this exceptionally gifted musician. He could go days without sleeping, just composing. He was most of the reason we were so successful at least initially. And he hated every minute of it, the accolades, the fame, all of it.” He grimaced and uncovered his eyes. “He was so disgusted with celebrity and commercial success, I had to be the front man.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I became the face of Bliss. I was a more visible member of the band than Neal in many ways, in the press, with public relations. People who were serious fans knew Cooper was the creative genius, but to many people, I was the face of the band.”
“I thought that was because you have such a great, er … .look,” she said.
He frowned and rubbed his eyes with his hands. “Nah, Cooper hated it, I loved it. The money, the fame, the interviews, long discussions about the ‘craft’ all of it. Well, I loved it at first.”
“What’s not to like?” she agreed. “Whatever you want, whenever you want it. Although I think I remember reading something in college about absolute power corrupting absolutely … ”
“John Acton.” He sat up and pulled her into his lap.
“Hmmm?”
“That quote. ‘Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely’. He also said ‘Great men are nearly always bad men’. He was talking about political power and tyrants, but I found it meaningful.”
“Do you want anything?” he asked, finally aware they had missed dinner. “Hungry? Thirsty?”
“No.” she said, quietly. “Finish your story.”
He nodded. “It was great for a few years. We had our music, more money and fame than any of us had ever dreamed of. Critical acclaim. Then the life started eating at us. All of us to some degree, but Cooper and I imploded.” He stroked her shoulder absently.
“That part sounds pretty horrible,” she admitted.
“I think it screws up even the most grounded people,” he stated. “And yet, these days I encounter artists who have had all that and somehow they figure it out. Maybe it’s the music, or the band, or some philanthropic cause, family, whatever. They stay grounded even in the throes of success and come through the other side.” He shook his head, baffled. “My friend Asher is one of those people.”
“Asher Lowe?”
“Yep. He’s been a good friend for a long time. Asher never went over the edge. Me and Neal weren’t so lucky.”
“I’ve read a little about Neal,” she replied softly and clasped his hand. She had, of course, looked up Alec and his band on the Internet after they started dating. The Internet had pages and pages on Neal. The man had a cult-like following, especially posthumously.
“His death didn’t even slow me down. The week of his funeral, his widow, Alicia, and I and some other people were using, a lot.”
She eyed him. Her mouth pulled down.
It took him a second to interpret the look. “Is that jealousy?”
He paused and stretched, a futile attempt to unknot the tension in his shoulders.
“It’s hard for a non-addict to understand, but there was no sex. No sexual interest in anything at that point. I was too far gone. So was she. It wasn’t the morality of screwing my friend’s wife. We were just two sick individuals getting fucked up together. There was never anything more than that. Seriously, babe, when it gets to that point, the equipment is not fully functional. At least it wasn’t in my case.”
He sat up, pulling her with him. “Her family came and got her into rehab. Turns out Alicia was pregnant, pretty far along. I didn’t notice, probably wouldn’t have cared, the state I was in. So someone’s equipment was operational; hell, I don’t even know if the baby was Cooper’s, given the shape he was in the months before he died. It’s likely it wasn’t. It sure wasn’t mine.”
His stomach roiled. “Alicia’s family called the cops, they were freaking out about her pregnancy, the drugs. And I got busted, thrown in jail.” He took a deep breath.
“They moved me from the jail to the hospital to detox. This doctor came to talk to me. He gave me the usual speech I’d heard countless times before. Thought I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself. Didn’t see what effect my actions had on anyone around me. I had friends who cared, sober band-mates who still wanted to make music.” He inhaled.
She held him.
“So this doctor just grabs me and takes me down two floors to see the babies born to drug addicted mothers.” His fists clenched. “I’d been detoxing most of a week and was antsy, but sober. Looking at those helpless babies still in the throes of what I had been through. Suffering. And the injury done to them might be irrevocable. I’d been using, sharing drugs, with someone pregnant.” He shuddered.
She made a halfhearted sound of protest, clearly loathe to interrupt.
“Yes, Kate, it’s a disease,” he said, patiently, “but it’s also a choice and those poor kids had no say. That was rock bottom for me. It made me feel ill and angry, but it also made me aware and sick about what I had let myself become for the first time.
“The rehab doctor talked to me a lot that day, and I was finally listening. He helped me get into a program and turn my life around. I realized I could either kill myself using or get a new focus in my life. He helped me understand that there were too many temptations for musicians at my level. To clean up, I needed to get out. So I went to college, then law school. And here I am. A walking cautionary tale in many respects.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. About all of it. I’m not judging you, Alec — ”
“You should.”
“I’m just glad you’re sober.”
They were silent for a long while. Alec wrapped her up tighter in his arms.
She leaned back. “How much do you miss the music and all of that?”
“I don’t,” he lied.
She cocked her head, considering him, then raised her eyebrows. “I don’t believe you. I was with you in that karaoke bar.”
“I don’t miss the life … of course I miss performing, I miss collaborating. I’ve been struggling with my future for a while. I always had a great work ethic and like a lot of addicts, I suck at moderation, but I’m trying. I surf. I love this place. I’m with you.”
“Someone who is the furthest thing from a workaholic.” She sounded mildly chagrined.
He dragged her so she straddled him. Then he used his hands to hold her head in place and stared her down. Was she serious?
“You already get something it took me a long time to figure out. You know what is important in life. You have drive, you completed college while taking care of your sister and working. You are normal and happy. I want normal and happy! I’m an alcoholic, a workaholic … I have to constantly be on guard. I don’t know what’s next for me, maybe a gambling addiction?”
“Internet porn addiction?” she suggested, wickedly.
He laughed.
“Come with me to Los Angeles tomorrow. You have a few days off, and I’d love to have you there.”
Chapter 16
Kate had the next four days off, plus an extr
a day of vacation, and Alec was driving them to Los Angeles. She stared out the passenger window, mesmerized by the brilliant blue water of the Pacific that ran next to the highway. How could she have fallen so hard so fast? Happiness bubbled up. She was giddy with it.
Alec’s phone rang. He glanced at the number before connecting the call through the car stereo. His friend Dave bullied a very reluctant Alec into coming over for dinner. She hadn’t thought it possible for anyone to bully Alec. When he disconnected the call, her lips were pressed together as she fought a smile. He looked over.
“What’s funny?” he asked, grumpily.
“I want to meet this guy. I could use tips on handling you.”
“Lucky for you then.” There was a smile underlying his annoyed tone. “It’s a madhouse over there. They have three very rambunctious girls. You sure you wouldn’t rather go somewhere nice for your first night in town?”
She gave his arm a gentle punch. Her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket, checking the screen. A text from Billingsly:
I need to see you.
That made six this week. She deleted it immediately. What was his deal? She bit back a sigh and turned off her phone. Clearly her ignore policy was not working. Maybe Ava would have some insights on how to get rid of him.
Hours later, they reached the Thatcher’s. It was a revelation to see him in this environment. Relaxed, happy, joking around, and playing with the girls, teasing Anna, Dave’s wife. Kate could almost envision her lover as a family man. He was completely comfortable and the girls knew him well.