On His Knees

by Cathryn Fox

  Instead of telling me he’s going to miss it, too, he pulls out of me, and flips me over, his breathing changing, becoming harsher against my skin. “Lift your hips,” he orders, and I do as he says. He slides two big pillows under me. “Comfortable?”

  “Yes.”

  He stands and walks to the mantel, grabs a box. He tears into it and produces lubricant.

  “You had this planned,” I whisper.

  He drops down behind me and I can no longer see his face. “Last night, I wanted this. From the way you were crawling around on the floor, it seemed you wanted it, too. But no way would I ever take you like this until we were properly prepared.” My throat squeezes at his thoughtfulness. “Do you still want to try this with me, Summer?” He presses his finger between my cheeks, curls it around my opening.

  “Yes,” I cry out.

  A second later cold lubricant is being poured on my ass. “Sorry, it’s cold,” he says, sounding like he’s just eaten a box of nails. “I promise to warm you up.”

  He slowly, lightly runs his fingers over me, and I close my eyes to enjoy the sensations. “How do you feel?” he asks.

  “Good. Really good.”

  He inches a finger into me, and I gasp. “Try to relax for me,” he whispers, and drops soft openmouthed kisses to my lower back. A tingle goes through me, settles deep between my legs. What we’re doing seems so elicit, so deliciously naughty, it arouses me even more. I move against his finger and he laughs.

  “In a hurry, are we?” he teases, but behind his words, I hear the urgency. He wants to mark me like this as much as I want to be marked.

  “Tate,” I whimper, and move some more as he works another finger in, stretching me, preparing me for his girth.

  “You want my cock in here?” he asks.

  “You know I do,” I manage to get out.

  “You need me to touch you everywhere, Summer. Brand every part of your body.”

  His fingers stroke, massage, an urgency in them, but a tenderness, too. Oh God, I’m fighting a losing battle when it comes to this man. I don’t answer. Instead I pinch my eyes shut at this emotional journey he’s taking me on, and will the tears back.

  He falls over me, and every part of my body feels swollen. I catch the tang of his arousal, and breathe him in, wanting it in my lungs and memory for years to come.

  “Please...” I say to taunt him, and he gives me an inch. I curl my fingers into the sheets, but then his hands are right there, on top of mine, curling with me like we’re in this together—like it’s affecting him as much as it is me.

  Is that possible?

  I exhale a sharp breath, concentrate on relaxing my muscles as he inches in. Pain rips through me, but I honestly don’t care. I need this. Need him. Even if it’s going to destroy me in so many ways.

  “Tate,” I murmur into the pillow.

  “I’ve got you,” he says, and kisses my neck. “I’ve got you, Summer.”

  “I want you.” He goes a little deeper and his moan curls around the ache in my chest. I gasp for breath and he goes still, giving me time to catch up. I take a few minutes, and then my body expands to accommodate him, and he’s deeper inside me.

  “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, and with slow steady strokes he moves inside me. The sensation is so new to me, yet it’s powerfully erotic knowing the pleasure I’m giving him, knowing that we’re doing this for the first time together. It heightens everything, and I let out a moan. I glance at him over my shoulder, see the restraint all over his face. It tells me he cares about my comfort and while I appreciate it, I need Tate unleashed.

  “Fuck me, Tate,” I cry out, and his thrusts grow faster as my body trembles around his cock. I lift my hips for him, and he slides back inside my body. Our groans merge and our hands grip tighter as we push boundaries and take each other to a whole new realm.

  “Mine,” he says, as our shaking bodies slap together, the noise a beating drum in my head, where my emotions are at war. He slides one hand between my body and the pillow, and there is possession in his touch as he applies pressure to my clit.

  “Yes,” I shout, my body burning up, spiraling out of control in a way that’s almost scary. I revel in the dark depth of his penetration, the way he needs this as much as I do. My body lets go and he rides me through the tremors, never stopping, never letting go of my hand. Honest to God, this is the most intense experience of my life.

  “You feel that, Summer? You feel my cock getting big and fat inside you? See what you do to me?”

  His dirty words thrill me, instantly heighten my arousal. “Yes,” I cry out around a second mind-blowing orgasm. I move, buck and my sex shudders as he slams harder, driving oxygen from my lungs. Need intensifies, vibrates against my quaking nipples, the world outside ceasing to exist as we move together.

  “I’m coming,” he growls. His body tightens, then goes slack, as he surrenders to the pleasure and fills me with his cum. Each pulse amps up the things I feel for this man, and when he falls over me, I lie beneath him raw, stripped to the bone, spent.

  “Holy fuck,” he finally says when he gets his breathing under control. He pulls my hair back, kisses my neck, my cheeks. “Shit,” he says when he looks at me. I must look pretty dazed right now, stunned even, by the emotional intensity of what just happened. He slowly eases his cock out of me. “Did I hurt you, Summer?”

  “No.”

  “What is it?”

  “We need to talk.”

  He exhales slowly, and rolls off me. “Yeah, we do,” he says. “Let me clean you up first.”

  “No.” He stills, and I prepare to tell him this is over, but there is a small part of me that doesn’t want to be done. A stupid, hopeful part of me that has visions of grandeur. Maybe Tate could move to the States, and we could have a real relationship. I’ve never believed in love at first sight before. The doctor in me knows it’s a quick release of chemicals such as dopamine that give a fast high, a euphoria, the feeling of falling in love. But my heart is definitely telling me something different. The way he touches me, kisses me, the possessive way he makes love to me...has to mean he cares for me, too, right? But what if it doesn’t?

  What if he does?

  “Summer.” He scrubs his chin, his brow furrowed, like he has something to say, too, but I want to go first.

  I hold my hand up. I have no idea what words are going to come spilling out, but I have to say something. I open my mouth, but his ringing cell phone abruptly cuts me off.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Tate

  I GRAB A bottle of beer from the fridge and glance around the busy bar. Summer and I need to talk, of that I’m certain. She was about to tell me something when my cell phone went off. I wasn’t going to answer but reached for it anyway, hoping it was Granddad. It wasn’t. It was Jaquelin asking me if I could come in because Henry isn’t feeling well.

  My body is still reeling from that afternoon lovemaking session. Jesus Christ, to think she’d give herself to me like that, put that kind of trust in me. It was the most intense, profound moment of my life, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to cash in my man card just thinking that thought.

  My heart speeds up when I see Summer and her friends enter and grab a seat near the window. My gaze meets Summer’s and she gives me a shaky smile. I look her over, and I swear she has sex written all over her. I’m guessing I do, too.

  I have no idea how I’m going to be able to work, concentrate on anything tonight. I’ve yet to hear from Granddad, but no way do I believe she’s conning him. She’s full of humanity and compassion and no way could she do something like that. Unless she’s conning me, too, but I don’t—can’t—believe it for a second. Summer and Granddad must have some sort of business arrangement. It’s all I can come up with.

  But what’s she going to think of me when the truth comes out? How can I prove to her I
’m one of the good guys, after coming here and crossing a line with her while pretending to be someone else so I could get close to her? I scoff. Crossing a line? Yeah, more like stomped the hell out of that line. Talk about a fucked-up situation.

  She’s going to hate me.

  Bile punches into my throat, and Jaquelin shimmies up beside me. She puts her hands on me, and I try to back away from her unwanted touches.

  “When does your girlfriend leave?” she asks, and follows me until I’m pressed against the counter. I lift my hands, not wanting to put them on her, or give her any kind of encouragement.

  “What are you doing, Jaquelin?”

  “Come on, Tate. Don’t be such a douche.”

  “Douche?”

  She pushes her breasts into me, and I shake my head.

  “Hey, Jaquelin, sexual harassment works both ways, you know,” Luca says, as he slides in beside me, his arms crossed. “He can file a lawsuit.”

  “What the hell?” Jaquelin says, and turns a venomous glare Luca’s way.

  “Why don’t you leave Tate alone? I think he made it pretty clear he’s not into you.”

  Her face turns beet red, and she glares at us for a minute, and then she storms off into the back room.

  I let out a low whistle and turn to Luca. “Thanks.”

  He shakes his head. “Sometimes my law degree comes in handy.”

  My brain stalls. “You’re a lawyer?”

  “Yeah,” he says, and goes back to mixing drinks.

  I spread my arms. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  “Shit. How did you know?”

  “That case you won last month in Boston. I was following it.”

  I nod. “Can we keep this between us?”

  “Yeah, sure. I figured as much anyway.” He gestures with a nod to Summer’s table. “By the way, I overheard your girl telling her friends she really likes you.” I take a look at Summer, find her watching me in return. “You might want to put a ring on that one,” Luca says with a laugh.

  That would mean telling her the truth—and she’d never forgive you.

  I hand Luca my business card, and he glances at it before he puts it into his pocket.

  “I’m looking for an assistant. If you’re ever in Manhattan,” I say, half my thoughts on him, the other half on Summer and what I’m going to do about this situation we’re in.

  “What’s going on here?” Henry asks, and we turn to him. “You two making a date?”

  I take in his pallor, the thin sheen of moisture on his skin. “What are you doing here? Jaquelin called me in because you were sick.”

  He waves a dismissive hand. “I’ve worked through worse.”

  “Henry, really, I think you need to lie down.” I exchange a look with Luca, and his dark eyes are narrowed, as worried as mine.

  “Come on, let’s get you in the back room so you can lie down and I’ll arrange for a car to drive you home.”

  “I’m fine,” he says, but then clutches his chest.

  “Shit.” He falls into my arms, and he’s gasping and clawing at his throat.

  “Is there a doctor in the house?” Luca yells, to be heard above the crowd.

  I seek out Summer, hoping her friend Cara will jump in, but both Summer and Cara come running around the counter.

  “Set him down,” Summer instructs, and my head is racing, spinning, as she takes control. She looks him over, checks his eyes. “He’s having a heart attack,” Summer says as she loosens the collar of his shirt.

  Cara looks right at me. “Call for an ambulance, ASAP.” I back up as Summer and Cara work on Henry, giving him CPR.

  “I’m not getting a pulse,” Cara says after a moment.

  My heart is racing in my chest as I grab my phone, but Jaquelin is back behind the bar, and is already one step ahead of me. As she gives directions, I glance up to see a crowd gathering. I instantly start pushing them back. “Clear out. I’m shutting the bar down. The doctors need space to work.”

  Doctors?

  I usher everyone out of the bar, and go to the front doors to wait for the ambulance. It arrives quickly, they’re always on call here at the ski resort.

  “This way,” I say. “He’s having a heart attack but there is a doctor performing CPR. No pulse.” I hurry the men into the room, and both Summer and Cara work until the first responders take over. They get him onto a gurney, and hook him up to some type of machine as they get him into the back of the ambulance.

  “I’m going with him,” I say. I turn to Jaquelin. “Call his wife, tell her to meet us at the hospital.”

  The first responder nods when I start following him, and I climb into the back of the ambulance then move out of the way so they can do their work. I catch Summer’s eyes, note the worry lines on her face, before the door slams shut and the sirens sound. Five minutes later we’re at the hospital, and people are running about as they wheel Henry in.

  Is Summer a doctor?

  I’m not sure, but I can’t think about that right now. I need to be here for Henry. I follow the first responders, until a nurse stops me.

  “You can’t go in there, sir.”

  “Oh yeah, right,” I say, and run a shaky hand through my hair.

  “You can have a seat out there.” I turn and in comes Marion, Henry’s wife. She rushes to me.

  “Tate,” she says. She either recognizes me from a couple years ago, or Henry filled her in on my ruse. I put my arm around her, and guide her to a chair in the waiting room.

  “He’s going to be okay,” I say. “I know it.”

  She cries against my chest. “I told him not to go in to work. Stubborn man.”

  My thoughts travel to my granddad, an equally stubborn man, and grief tears through me at the thought of losing him. I work to pull myself together, and offer Marion my strength. “We were lucky there was a doctor at the bar.” Or two. “She worked on him until the ambulance arrived.”

  I hold Marion in my arms, and seconds turn into minutes. We wait quietly, the TV droning in the corner but I ignore it. A few more patients are rushed in, accidents on the ski hill. Time ticks by, and I grab us both coffees from the vending machine. We sip them, and when we reach the bottom of our cups, the doctor finally comes out. I stand, help Marion up, and she leans on me for support.

  “How is he?” I ask.

  “Unstable angina,” he says.

  “How bad is it?” Marion asks, and clutches the front of my shirt.

  “Tomorrow we’ll do a stress test. If he passes that, we’ll send him home with nitro, to be taken as needed. If he doesn’t, we’ll have to do a cardiac cath and check for blockage.”

  “Can I see him?” Marion asks.

  “Of course, he’s awake and asking for you.”

  Marion holds on to me and I guide her down the hall to his room. Her legs give a little when she sees her husband hooked up to so many machines.

  “Henry,” she says, and rushes to him. I stand back to give them a minute. Henry hugs his wife, and looks my way. “Thanks,” he says to me.

  I nod, and knowing they need time together, I excuse myself. I go back down the hall, and give the nurse my number so she can keep me updated. Shaken up from the ordeal, I step outside and hail a cab. Since I took off without even putting a coat on, I can’t walk back to the resort.

  The cab comes. I slide into the back seat, and give directions to Granddad’s hotel, hoping to find Summer in her suite. The driver cranks the heat and I’m grateful. As I freeze my nuts off, I pull my phone out, checking for messages, when it rings.

  Granddad.

  Heart racing, I run my finger across the screen. “Granddad,” I say quickly. “You haven’t been answering my calls, are you okay?”

  “I’m perfectly fine, son.”
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  “Then why haven’t you called me back?” I ask, and pinch the bridge of my nose, impatience thrumming through me.

  “I didn’t want to ruin your ski trip,” he announces, an almost triumphant tone in his voice.

  What?

  “How did you know?”

  “My jet doesn’t go anywhere without me knowing, son.”

  “Shit.”

  “Did you meet her?” he asks, a new lightness in his voice, a burst of excitement. You’d never know the man was sick, or losing his mind.

  “Did I meet who?”

  “Summer Love?”

  What the fuck is going on?

  “You knew she’d be there, I straight up told you, even showed you her picture so you’d know who she was.” Ice clinks against a glass, and then I hear Granddad swallow. “What do you think of her? Do you like her?”

  What the hell am I supposed to say? Oh yeah, I liked her so much I spent the week fucking her.

  “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist her,” he says, and lets loose a laugh.

  What the hell?

  “What are you talking about?”

  Granddad laughs some more, and I can hear him slapping his leg, like he always does when he’s victorious about something. “Summer is my doctor. Didn’t she tell you?”

  So, Summer is a doctor.

  “No.” My mind spins out of control and I shut my eyes to let my thoughts catch up. Summer is a doctor. I think about the clues. They were all there, I just hadn’t put it together but now everything makes sense. Except for why neither Granddad nor Summer told me.

  “I knew you’d go after her. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to bring her into the family. I knew you two would be perfect for each other. Do I hear wedding bells, son? And I still plan to sign half the estate over to her, and the other half over to you as my wedding gift. I’m not going to live forever, you know. I’ll be going in the ground someday.”

  It might be sooner than you think.

  I work to rein in my anger, reminding myself this is my ninety-year-old granddad, who only has my best interests at heart, but he’s gone too far this time. Way too far.