Storms and Dreams (Becoming Jane Book 3)

by Adare, Alexis

  “Our first awkward silence,” I said, laughing nervously as I sipped my coffee.

  “Oh, you think so?” he asked archly.

  “Yes. You don’t?”

  “I don’t know. I thought it more, stimulating, than awkward.”

  “Oh come on,” I said, setting my coffee down.

  “Well alright, I’ll concede it’s not the most comfortable silence we’ve enjoyed together.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head with a laugh.

  “Come here,” he said. Scooting back his chair from the table, he beckoned me to sit on his lap. “What’s on your mind?”

  I stood up and crossed to him, taking a seat on his lap with my arms draped around his shoulders. I ran a hand over his chest, his skin soft, smooth and warm, his muscles twitching under my touch.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Is something troubling you?”

  “No, nothing. I’m not troubled,” I said, my gaze lowering to follow the movements of my fingers as I traced circles on his chest.

  He was right, though. The conversation with Sasha had initially settled my nerves but now all that angst was back. She’d told me to live in the moment. But that’s just a little harder than everyone lets on. How do you live in the moment when your head can’t figure out what the moment is? My instincts told me to label and box up all my feelings neatly, to analyze everything that had happened between us so far and consider all possible angles, all likely outcomes. The problem was, all this overthinking was threatening to suck the fun right out of our morning.

  “There is something,” he said. Catching my hand, he pressed my fingers to his lips and shifted, pulling my hips in tighter against him. “Tell me,” he insisted.

  “It’s just…” I said quietly, my eyes locked to his fingers as they threaded through mine, his thumb caressing the back of my hand. “This has been amazing. It’s been so different than what I assumed it would be.”

  “For me as well.”

  “I don’t know what to think,” I said. “I mean, what is this? What are we, and where do we go from here?”

  “That’s a lot of whats,” he said, his chest rumbling with laughter.

  “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… You asked what was on my mind. That’s it. But forget it. I’m not trying to demand answers of you or anything.”

  “Well, demands or no, I might have some answers I can share.”

  “Really?” I scoffed, skeptical. “What?”

  “I think we both know what this is, don’t we?” he said, his finger lifting my chin so that my eyes met his. “Or at least we suspect?”

  I nodded.

  “And that was unexpected. For both of us.”

  I nodded again.

  “And we seem to have agreed to avoid that topic for now. Clever or cowardly, depending on perspective, I suppose.”

  I laughed softly, and he grinned at me.

  “As for the other matters: What are we, and where do we go from here? I think what we are is up to us entirely. We get to define that for ourselves. And I’m certain we will, in time. As to where we go from here—I believe we should take each day as it comes.”

  “Right,” I said, although internally I was groaning. If one more person told me to “let life unfold” or “take each moment as it comes” I was going to puke.

  “Although,” he said, “to that end, we’ve already failed.”

  “Failed?” I asked, frowning at him.

  “Well, we skipped a day, didn’t we? We’ve got tomorrow figured out, seeing as I committed us to that ghastly party.”

  “And shopping,” I said.

  “And shopping,” he conceded. “But that leaves nothing for today other than idle boredom and more awkward silences.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” I laughed, pushing at his chest.

  “I mean I admit, I had planned to continue fucking you senseless for most of the day. But now, those plans seem simple in comparison to tomorrow’s glamorous itinerary. I’m thinking I need to rethink.” His grin was wry, and his eyes twinkled as he lifted my fingers, brushing a soft kiss over my knuckles.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Hmmm, how can I top a stuffy dinner party? A stroll along the beach? Maybe a picnic? What do you think?”

  “That sounds nice. But it’s really cold outside.”

  “Nonsense!” he said. Securing one arm under my legs, he lifted me and rose from his chair. “You’ve assured me you love the beach in wintertime. I think a vigorous hike over the dunes is just the sort of adventure that we need to set you right.”

  “Good Lord. I can walk, you know,” I said, sighing as he carried me down the hallway to the bedroom. “Are you just going to carry me around all weekend?”

  “Possibly.” He grinned down at me. “I like how you feel in my arms.”

  I buried my head in his chest and sighed again. “So do I.”

  * * *

  “Can I ask a question?” I tried to sound casual as we padded together, bundled in boots and scarves and puffy coats, over a downy carpet of snow to a stretch of beach along the water’s edge.

  “Anything,” he said, extending a leather-gloved hand to help me over a boulder and onto the sand.

  “Why is it okay to take me to this party tomorrow? Aren’t you afraid of people finding out that I was a student at the college?”

  “Not really. At this point, while it may raise a few eyebrows, it won’t be a problem.”

  “Because I’ve graduated?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But what if they think that we were sleeping together before then?”

  “Well, some people may think that. For me, it doesn’t matter. I stopped caring what people thought of me a long time ago. But I would not like it if they treat you differently because of a false assumption. So you tell me, how would you like to handle it? If it comes up?”

  “Oh God.” I laughed. “I’ve been through worse. Tell them, don’t tell them. I don’t care what they think.”

  “Alright. Well, I say if asked, we stick to a simple version of the truth. We met at the university pool and met again later after you graduated.”

  “With a few detours in between,” I said, laughing, and slipped my arm through his. “You know, the strip club, the laundromat, my apartment.”

  “Nobody’s business but our own.”

  “But then, why all the cloak and dagger? I thought all of that was because you were worried about our reputations?”

  “I was. While you were still a student. But it was more than that. I needed the teacher-student dynamic to die before I could let anything happen. I couldn’t be with you if the only attraction between us was based on that. I told you, I don’t think it’s healthy. I can’t respect those sorts of relationships.”

  I looked up at him, and hoped the question in my eyes would prompt him to continue.

  “I suppose I owe you an explanation,” he said, sighing, stopping at a large boulder on the beach. He sat down and gestured for me to join him. “I have two younger sisters,” he said, taking my hand in his. He looked out over the sea, still choppy and disturbed from last night’s storms. “Beatrice and Caroline. Caroline graduated from university just last year.”

  “She’s a lot younger than you, then.”

  “Yes, she was a bit of a surprise to my parents,” he said, laughing affectionately. “I’m close to both of my sisters. I’d do anything for them, and vice versa. But I can be, according to them, over-protective at times. I suppose that’s why she kept it from me.”

  “Oh no,” I said, my stomach sinking in anticipation of his next words.

  “For two years she had an affair with a colleague of mine. Another professor in my department, the competitive sort. Always puffing up his chest at me about something. The affair started right after I got a commendation from our department, and he didn’t.”

  “She was revenge,” I said, and this time I felt sick.

  “She was. He pursued her, manipulated her, seduce
d her, and broke her heart. Caroline was three months pregnant when he left her for another woman.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “She miscarried.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you,” he said, his hand caressing mine. “It was awful; I was with her when it happened. She lost the baby the same night that we found out, together, who the woman was that he had left her for.”

  “Oh no.” That sinking feeling was back.

  “Oh yes. His revenge was thorough. Walter is currently engaged to my soon-to-be ex-wife.”

  “Holy fucking fucker.”

  “Definitely.”

  “What kind of name is Walter?” I said, suddenly incredulous. “Who dumps you for a guy named Walter? Does he have an anaconda in his pants or a bajillion dollars? And actually—what the actual fuck? Because you have those things! So again, who the fuck dumps you for a Walter?”

  “Serena, apparently. Although to be fair, we hadn’t had a marriage in years. She wasn’t dumping much.”

  “Hello! Anaconda, bajillionaire. Jesus Christ.”

  “So, you value me solely for my anaconda and my bajillion dollars?” he said, his voice quiet.

  “No, of course not! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I was just trying to lighten things.”

  “I might add, my family has the bajillions, I don’t personally.”

  “No, Thomas, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I was joking. It was stupid of me,” I said, turning his face towards me so that he could see the truth in my eyes. There was only laughter in his.

  “Gotcha,” he said, poking me in the ribs.

  “Oh, you’re a rat!” I said, swatting his hands away. “I feel sorry for your sisters. I really do.”

  His hands were everywhere. Prodding and teasing, he unzipped the front of my coat, and danced his fingers over my ribs to tickle all my sensitive spots. I shrieked and tried futilely to pry his grip from me, but he was merciless, and soon I was half sprawled across his lap, begging for mercy.

  “Please,” I gasped through my laughter. “Stop, I can’t take anymore.”

  “Nope,” he said. “Tit for tat or I’ll start tickling again. Tell me something horribly tragic about you.”

  “About me?”

  “Or your family. I’ll accept that as well. Technically my story was about my sister, really. Which by the way, keep that to yourself if you would?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I’d never say anything.”

  I could never betray his trust. I could never betray her trust. Even though I’d never met her, I’d never share gossip about another woman’s pain over losing a child. I shuddered at the mere thought of it, leaned against his chest, and squeezed my eyes shut.

  He wanted me to share with him. And after what he’d shared with me just now, after what he’d trusted me with last night, it made sense. We were connecting, deeply, and naturally he wanted me to share too. I had something alright, but as close as I felt to him, as full as my heart was when I was in his arms, I couldn’t share that. Not now. Not yet.

  “You’re cold,” he said. Gathering me to him, he rubbed my arms, and I could feel his arousal growing hard against my backside. “We should start walking again, warm you up.”

  “I can think of other ways to warm up,” I teased, wiggling my bottom in his lap, hoping I could change the subject with a little flirtation.

  “I just bet you can,” he laughed. “Not yet.”

  “Are you sure?” I wiggled harder.

  “Later,” he said, swatting my backside.

  “Are you kinky?” I blurted out, cringing as soon as the words hit the cold air. Smooth segue, genius.

  “What?” he asked, eyebrows raised in shock.

  “It’s just, you do that a lot, delay gratification.”

  “Delay…what? No, it’s quite cold out here.”

  “Nope, that’s not it.” I narrowed my eyes, studying him. “You do it a lot.”

  “What, because I insisted we wait till you graduated?” he said. Lifting me off his lap, he stood me on the sand and rose in front of me, towering, his gaze locked on mine. “I explained that, just now.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head and took a few steps ahead of him, then turned around playfully. “That doesn’t explain all of it. Not entirely. Look, I’ve based this theory on several factors, not that one alone. I think I’m right. I think you’re kinky.”

  “Oh really.” He smirked, shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked towards me. “Please, enlighten me.”

  4

  “Well, you’re very commanding, sexually.” I cleared my throat, wondering what I’d gotten myself into. I had my suspicions, sure, but I certainly didn’t have anything approaching an official analysis. I was going to have to wing it.

  “Commanding?” He stepped forward again, jaw tensing, eyebrow cocked.

  FUCK, he’s sexy. “Yeah, like right now, actually. You’ve got this British sex panther thing going on. You’re stalking me, like prey.”

  “Mmmm. Go on.”

  “When we are, um, you know…”

  “Fucking.”

  “Yeah, that.” What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought, marveling at the change in my demeanor when he had his sights on me. I was all nerves and jelly knees. But still, nerves weren’t going to stop my mouth, not now. I was too excited to see where this little detour might lead us. So I pressed on. “When we’re fucking. You handle my body like it’s…like it’s a tool,” I said, searching for the right analogy. “Or a machine…no, a car. Like a car. Your Jaguar!”

  “I fuck you like I’m driving my Jaguar?”

  “No, you fuck me like a champion racer drives…” I trailed off, stumped. This analogy had gotten away from me.

  “His favorite car,” Thomas said, his gaze traveling over the length of my body. “A car built just for him, every line, every curve, every detail exceeding his highest standards.” He strode towards me and I gulped, walking backwards in front of him, pacing myself, careful to keep several feet between us. The look in his eyes said the cold be damned, if he caught me now we’d be fucking on the beach in five seconds flat. While that was a panty dampening thought, so was the idea of teasing him for just a little longer.

  “Exceeding?” I asked.

  “Utterly eclipsing every other…forgive me for continuing with the vehicle analogy but—”

  “No, no. Go on.”

  “With an engine that is unsurpassed,” he said with a grin. “Sure it runs hot, and very,” his eyes leveled on mine, “very tight. But once you get her juiced, she handles like a dream.”

  I gulped again. “Good analogy.”

  “A little heavy handed,” he smirked, “but one tries. What else?”

  “What?” I said, dazed, my thoughts lost in a wilderness of sexcapades featuring Thomas dressed as the Stig from Top Gear and me as some sort of hot pink anthropomorphic sports car.

  “What other qualities have I demonstrated that have fed your theory of my sexual deviance?”

  “Uh…” My hands were roaming with a mind of their own—one on my stomach while the other traced the outline of my lips.

  “Kinky, darling, you said I’m kinky. I’m dying for you to prove it.”

  The hand at my stomach rose to circle my wrist, physically pulling my own hand from my mouth before I went down on my own fingers in some sort of pathetic attempt at oral satisfaction. That’s when it hit me.

  “You restrain me. Every chance you get, you take my wrists and you pin them.” My tone was triumphant, almost defensive. I didn’t mean it to be. I was just excited that I’d managed to jump start my brain into working again.

  Thomas stopped walking. “I’m sorry,” he said simply.

  “No! No, God no, I didn’t mean that how it came out at all. I don’t mind.” I took a step towards him. “I mean, I really don’t mind. I like it, actually. It’s a turn on.”

  “Alright.”

  “Fuck. Did I just fuck this up?”

  “I’m
not sure,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “This conversation is intriguing, and I can’t say that I disagree with your theories, but I’m slightly, uncomfortable.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry.”

  “I need to know,” he said, pacing ahead of me, “if you’re alright with everything we’ve done thus far. I need to know that going forward, if I do anything that’s not alright with you, you’ll tell me, immediately.”

  “Wow, this got heavy fast,” I said, darting ahead to walk in front of him again.

  “Jane, I’m serious. You just told me that I restrain you. I didn’t even realize I was doing that. I need these assurances from you.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry I fucked this all up with my little game.” We stood there, in the wet sand, the waves creeping up under our feet and slinking away again. Staring at each other. I was so pissed at myself I could’ve spit. What the fuck was I doing?

  “It’s not all fucked up, we’ve just fallen into a bit of a ditch, we need to scramble out. Together.”

  “Okay. I am more than comfortable with everything we’ve done so far. We could go much, much further and I’ll still be super-duper comfortable.” I laughed, and glanced up to meet his gaze. He was staring at me with such warmth and concern it made my throat tight. I swallowed hard. “Yeah, I’ll tell you right away if anything isn’t okay.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Do we need a safe word or anything? Would that make you feel better?” I asked, my tone teasing.

  “Hardly.” He frowned, my attempt at levity apparently failed. “All you need ever say to me, is ‘No’ or ‘Stop’. It’s that simple.”

  “Yeah, it’s not, though,” I said gently. “Not when you’re playing like that. That’s kind of why people invented safe words. Because when you’re into stuff like that, sometimes miscommunications happen.”