Turning back, his eyes followed her gaze. He fisted the hard sprung length and stroked. “Is this what you want?”
Her chin lifted expectantly and her feet waggled back and forth. She licked her lips. “Yes.”
“This?” he questioned again with another full stroke, flashing her a cocky smile.
“Yes.”
A filthy chuckle filtered through the room. “You’ll have to wait until we get home. We should’ve been in the air two hours ago and I need to button up a few things so we can get going.”
The warning of departure flipped her internal panic button. Tremors quivered down her entire frame.
Digital detox was coming to an end and the confessional clock was still ticking.
“Okay.”
Summer’s voice woke Aspen from her slumber as she laid sprawled out in a ray of sunshine. She staggered from her dog bed, arching into a quick full body shiver, before tromping after him into the closet.
*
“Why are you pouring anti-freeze down the sink?” A severe case of nerves forced a stark tone to her voice.
He laughed tracing his index finger over the notch of confusion tucked between her brows. “We haven’t talked schedules yet, so I’m not sure when we’ll make it back here. I’m hoping soon, but it is Montana and if it freezes, I don’t want to come home to a flood.”
“Gotcha,” she nodded, adding, “Soon is good.”
“I’ve been trying to get John and Shayla up here with the boys, but timing hasn’t worked out yet. Plus I think she’s afraid to fly with me.”
“I can’t imagine how much fun those boys would have up here,” she paused. “Do you hang out with them very often? Shayla’s never said anything.”
“That’s because she’s sworn to the borders of Switzerland, but yes, we’ve hung out a few times. John and I get along really well, now that he understands I’m not out to get his woman.”
An insightful chuckle simmered in her chest. “He’s just…a little protective.”
“Yeah, I’ll say.” Summer’s eyes pulled wide. “Can’t say I blame him. I wanted to rip that realtor, Jason, in half. He’s got some explaining to do.” Though she heard the distinct harsh warning, Carrie Ann was only half-listening to him talk. She opened her mouth to talk, but she only managed a swift inhale before Summer continued. “The cabin’s all squared away. I’ll start loading the plane, if you want to pack up your things, we’ll take off. You can leave whatever you won’t be using at home…hiking shoes, sweats, jackets. Whatever you want. Next time we come, we’ll go shopping for whatever you need.”
A genuine heart stopping smile eased into the tiny wrinkles near his eyes. He tossed the empty jug of antifreeze in the garbage, tied the red drawstrings into a knot, and lifted the trash from the container.
She couldn’t breathe.
Carrie Ann could only watch as Summer walked outside.
A cold ache gripped her insides. She felt weak and pathetic for putting it off as long as she had. Her heart raced unable to shake the feelings of betrayal.
Out of time and slowly losing her mind, she threw her suitcase on top of the ottoman, cramming her things inside. Aspen sat at her heels, listening to Carrie Ann go off on a tangent, mumbling under her breath.
Stomping into the bathroom, she unzipped her overnight case and began haphazardly tossing in her creams, washes, brushes.
“Fuck! Fuckity-fuck.” The bag was nearly full, yet half of her things still sat on the counter. She shoved her hands into the case, taking items out one at a time and slamming them on the counter, roughly reorganizing.
Reaching the bottom, she pulled out several bottles of nail polish. Her lip twitched. She sniffed. “We didn’t even get to these.”
Catching sight of her sullen reflection in the mirror, Carrie Ann’s chin trembled. And then crumpled. Big tears rolled down her cheek and fell into the sink. Splatters of black mascara ran down the white porcelain.
“You are a chicken shit…wussy…using Eskimo fucking pie as a feeble excuse to let him sidetrack you. It was a cop out. That’s what it was…a damn cop out,” she scolded herself sourly, ranting as she stared at the pitiful reflection. Glimpsing downward through a slick of wetness, her thumb etched over the raised lettering on the small glass bottles of red and pink enamel.
Desperate times lead to desperate measures.
“One more day. I just need one more day.”
Carrie Ann splashed water on her face, removing any signs of her meltdown. Digging through her luggage, she rummaged through the zipped mesh section holding her lacy delicates. Pulling out all the stops, she chose her favorite go-to one-piece teddy. The black racy number made her feel sexy and confident. She’d worn it more than a dozen times, typically when she needed to feel fearless during a boardroom meeting, but never for a man.
Sitting in the chair beside the fireplace, she waited patiently for Summer to come back inside. He bound through the door, heading for his bedroom as he called out for her, “Red? Is your suitcase ready?”
“No,” she replied softly, just loud enough to let him know she was in the living room. Butterflies tickled her tummy and her pulse raced like a stampede of wild buffalo.
“Plane’s all ready to go. Do you need…” He skidded to a halt, words cut short getting a glimpse of her bare legs stretched out on the ottoman. An intrigued smile tucked into the corner of his mouth as he lowered his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose.
A timid grin spread over her face. Courage, Carrie Ann. Courage. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed herself from the chair.
“We have some unfinished business to attend to.”
“Fuck me.” She heard him murmur his own version of Holy shit! “I guess we do.”
Utterly speechless, he moseyed toward her. She shook her head no, eyes squinted in a sensual mock grin, indicting he should take a seat.
Hands behind her back, her hips swished from side-to-side, slinking toward him wearing the black racy teddy. Tendrils of long dark hair fell over the lace covering her breasts. Summer eased back into the sofa. Denim stretched over his solid thighs as she stood between his parted legs.
Her blue eyes burned into his for a full ten seconds, watching a hard swallow ripple down his throat. Raising onto her tiptoes, she turned around, revealing the back of her barely there Brazilian-cut bottom. Carrie Ann heard his breath hitch, which flooded her with an added dose of bravery.
Shoulders squared, back arched, and bum on full display, she opened her closed fist, taunting him in a luscious voice over her shoulder, “What’s it gonna be, Summer? Come Fuck Me Red or Eat My Pussy Pink?”
Hearing the crinkle of leather move beneath his body as he inched forward, sent her pulse into overdrive. Standing completely motionless, Carrie Ann worked to steady her heavy breathing, worried she might hyperventilate waiting to feel his touch.
The heat of his breath, fanned over a hip causing goosebumps to skitter down her leg. “My, God. You are so beautiful, Red.”
Her shoulders sagged a bit feeling his hands begin to traverse over her curves in awe. Carrie Ann remained still, reveling in his touch. He roamed over her body, pressing and coasting, laying a trail of kisses over the lace covering the small of her back.
“Carrie Ann Lowell, you have a gift for surprising me. I am so in love with you. Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you when we get home?” The sound of his voice near her ear was pure sin.
“Red and pink zebra stripes?” Her whimper weighted with anxiousness. “Polka dots?”
Using one hand, he latched his fingers over both her wrists. Summer raised to his feet. His free hand threaded through her hair, sifting from her nape to the crown of her head. In a delicious display of control, he pulled firmly at the roots, maneuvering her head to the side. A lustful growl skated over her exposed neck. He indulged in a few nibbles before sinking a long gentle bite into the dip between neck and shoulder, drawing a low moan from her throat.
“By the time I get th
e pink base coat on, you’re going to beg me for the red polka dots.” He spun her to face him. “Where would you like to sit? I should warn you…you might want to pick a very comfortable position, because by the time I finish with you, my little screamer, you’re going to be hoarse and worn the fuck out.”
Blush tinged her cheeks, she couldn’t suppress a nervous giggle. Praying for her knees to hold out, she taunted brazenly, “Bring. It. On.”
His long, powerful legs bracketed her thighs, urging her backward until she bumped into the chair. She started to stumble backward, but he looped an arm behind her, forcing an arch in the small of her back.
“Hold these for a minute, please.” A low laugh rumbled in his chest, tucking a bottle into each cup of her teddy before dropping to his knees. The man’s ravenous appetite verged on insatiable. His immediate advances surprised her a little. Summer usually saved this part for the end.
Dragging her fingers through the full head of cropped blond hair wedged between her thighs, she asked in wonderment, “How much…” Her mouth clamped shut, awkwardly gesturing toward her nether regions.
“Pussy?”
“Can one man…”
His brows raised comically at her discomfiture. “Eat?”
Blushing fiercely, she nodded.
Summer attempted to act contrite, but it was no use. An obnoxiously cocky grin tipped the corners of his mouth. “I could eat copious amounts of your pussy.” He didn’t stop there, he latched onto her hips, settling her into the chair, moving his face inches from hers. “I could eat your pussy every day for the rest of my life…forever.”
Somewhere tucked between the P word and forever laid a momentous shift in the gravity. An enormity of significance she hadn’t quite prepared for. The profound sentiment turned his eyes the color of liquid gold. She cupped his jaw, pulling him in for a passionate, long lasting kiss.
“Forever, Red. That’s what I want,” he assured beneath her lips. “And don’t think for one minute I’ll take anything less. Not now.”
Summer sat back on his haunches. As his hands coasted down her left leg, lifting her foot to inspect the intimate work at hand, all she could think was I hope he still feels that way tomorrow.
Chapter Thirteen
‡
The moon cut through the window casting a narrow beam of muted grey over her exposed leg. Carrie Ann readjusted her foot peeking out from the sheets, so her polka dotted toes glimmered in the moonlight.
She’d been lying awake for hours. The faint sound of guilt, tapping on her shoulder, getting louder and louder, like the drip of a broken faucet. Every time she attempted to open her mouth, her throat clenched shut.
She sat upright, crossing her legs, huddling the down blanket to her chest. Summer slept sedated and happy.
“Summer?” Her whisper was nearly inaudible, yet it echoed like thunder in her ears.
He didn’t budge.
The muscles in her throat felt coated and thick. She tried to swallow, but found no saliva. The sound of her heavy breathing overrode the fury of her pulse. She nudged his chest. “Summer?”
One eye peeled open, then the other. He blinked a few times, shooting upward in a start. “Are you okay? Is it lightning?”
Her head rattled back and forth.
His eyes screwed wide, taking in the night, before flopping back on his pillow. A groggy smile wedged its way to the corner of his mouth. His hand drifted to her waist, pulling her to him. “You wanna snuggle?”
“No,” she croaked. A hot blur stole her vision, but she felt the caress of his touch change from comfort to concern. “We need to talk.”
Apprehension weaved across his sleepy face, deepening the fine lines on his forehead. He brought the palm of her hand to his lips, nuzzling it to his stubble. “Are you afraid to go home with me? We both know it’s going to be a circus, but…”
“I’m not scared of that.” A cloud of darkness loomed overhead, shrouding her in shame.
“What are you afraid of?”
“I’m…” It took three tries to clear the sentiment from her throat. “I’m afraid you’re going to be mad…or disappointed in me.”
“Red…how could I ever be disappointed in you? It’s not possible.”
Tears rolled down the tip of her nose, dripping to the sheet. He sat upright, crossing his legs and taking her hands in his. He waited a painstakingly long time for her to continue, but she couldn’t find the words.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got bottled up in that beautiful mind of yours?” Summer encouraged, trepidation shone clearly in his eyes.
“That day…” A frayed exhalation filled the small soundless space. She looked away from him, but the feel of his thumbs turning tender circles over the top of her hands brought her back to him.
“It’s okay. Take your time, Red. What day?”
“That day I found you with that girl.”
“Carrie Ann, I thought we…”
“I was coming to tell you something that day.” Heat prickled her chest and neck. Her stomach twisted in knots, constricting painfully.
His profile shadowed and his face grimaced. “Go on.”
“I was coming to tell you…” She looked away, shrinking into the layers of bedding, trembling uncontrollably. “I was coming to tell you that I was pregnant.”
The comforting motion of his thumbs stopped. Wetness blinded her of sight, but she sensed his body turn rigid.
“What?” Devastation, confusion, loss, anger…encompassed the one word.
“I had come there that morning to tell you that I was pregnant.”
Slowly, almost as if in slow motion, he shirked backward, dropping her hands. She reached for him, but he skirted her touch. “I don’t understand. What do you mean…was? You’re just now telling me this?”
Though his rebuke was tiny, the impact monumental. She couldn’t get a word out.
“Please don’t tell me that you…” Reproach coated his tone. “Christ, Carrie Ann. Please don’t tell me I have a kid…”
“No!” she screeched. Each tiny muscle in her contorted as she began to sob. Her head swung wildly from side-to-side. Blinded by tears, she shoved at his hands that were now trying to grab hold of her. Her breathing came in jerky gasps, fighting for air to fill her lungs. “I lost the baby. Our baby.”
“Red, look at me.” He grappled to get hold of her, palming her tear-soaked face.
She shook her head frantically.
“Carrie Ann,” his voice, soft and tender, reached deep inside stroking the open scar. “Look at me.”
Catching a glimpse of his face, painfully distorted and drained of color, Carrie Ann lurched forward, throwing her arms around his neck. Words came in fits and bursts. “I was so angry and hurt and pissed. It crushed me to find you with her. I was hysterical. The doctor said that shouldn’t have had anything to do with it, but…I don’t know what happened. My body just…didn’t work right.”
“Shh. It’s okay.” He coiled her in his arms, holding her secure. Summer took painstaking deliberations, petting and soothing, easing her hurt. He turned his mouth to hers, soft and easy, comforting her anguish. “It’s okay. Don’t cry, Red.”
Hearing the heartache in his voice, she lifted her blurry gaze. Streaks of wetness on his lean cheeks glimmered in the moonlight. “But it’s not okay. Now you’re crying too.”
Summer nodded, hot tears flowing freely down his face. His chest jumped against hers as his body quaked. He wrapped his arms around her, dropping his damp cheek to her shoulder. They clung to one another as she climbed into his lap. Bones dissolved, melting into one, each submerged in emotions of grief and regret, and for Carrie Ann…relief.
Eventually, after what seemed like an unmeasurable amount of time and tears, Summer eased them onto the bed, cocooning her in the warmth of the covers and his strong protective arms.
Nothing left between them but the rise and fall of their breath as they laid nose to nose, arms and legs tangled in an i
ntimate altercation of trust and love. He pushed the hair from her face, sifting his fingers languidly through her soft tangles as they stared at each other in the dark.
“Did it hurt?” he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.
Her face screwed into a painful crumple of emotions. She shook her head and then nodded. A single tear rolled from the corner of her eye, catching on the pillow. “It hurt in here the most,” she admitted in an ache of a whisper, bringing his hand over her beating heart.
“I’m sorry, Red. I would’ve been there for you.”
“I know.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
Her lip snarled. “I did.”
Two deep notches gathered between his brows. Summer hesitated, “I tried to see you…later that day. And the next. Every day…for days. I sent flowers…” His words trailed off to nothing as understanding sank in. She heard him swallow, choking back his emotions. “That was your birthday?”
Carrie Ann nodded numbly.
“It happened on your birthday?”
“Yes.” Her jaw jutted to the side as a huge exhale pushed from her lungs. “I miscarried on my birthday. I really don’t like to say it. I know you don’t mean anything by it, but I think she would’ve been a girl. I don’t why, but it just feels right in my heart when I call her a she.”
“I’m sure she would’ve been amazing.”
She nodded in agreement. A hint of a curve tipped her lips.
“I’m sorry about the flowers. I feel like a total asshole.”
“The roses were waiting when I got home from the doctor.”
“I’ll never send you roses again. I promise.”
“I think I’ll be okay now.” Tears fell again, but they felt triumphant in their release. Her fingers floated over her lips and fell to her chest, patting her heart. She wept, nodding, “I think I’m gonna be okay now.”
“You’ve been carrying this weight for all these years. Why didn’t you ever tell me, Red?”
A Taste of Summer Page 22