by Aly Martinez
And then he joined me.
I’d heard Porter laugh before, but not like that. This one was deep and rich, inherently masculine while still managing to sound boyish and carefree.
“Oh, you think that’s funny?” he said, his body folding over on top of me, his hands going to my sides, where he tickled me.
I squealed and flailed against him as he pinned me down, the same fingers that only minutes earlier had been working between my legs with an expert touch now danced over my skin, stirring me into hilarity.
My laugh got louder until tears hit my eyes.
So this was what living felt like.
“I can’t breathe,” I laughed, and his torturous hands finally stopped.
He sat up, and I flipped to my back, draping my legs over his lap. And then those damn multitalented fingers of his went to work, skimming up and down my thighs as we both caught our breath.
“You think anyone heard us having sex?” I asked.
He hummed a sound of approval before adding, “Don’t worry. I’ll fire them all.”
I laughed again, but he didn’t join me.
“Charlotte?” he called.
“Yeah, baby?”
“What’s going to happen when I turn on the lights?”
My stomach sank. “I honestly don’t know.”
He slid his hand up until he found mine and then intertwined our fingers. I couldn’t make his features out, but I felt his head turn and his gaze come to mine.
“It’s still dark outside.”
I gave his hand a squeeze. “Then I guess we better make the most of it.”
He didn’t say another word as he shifted my legs off his lap and pushed to his feet. I watched with rapt attention as his tall silhouette strolled to the door. The faint light from the bottom illuminated him just enough for me to see his hand lift to the switch on the wall.
“It’s still dark outside,” he repeated. “Artificial light doesn’t count.”
I grinned. “I’m not going to disappear, Porter.”
He sighed. “See, I’m not so sure about that.”
And then Porter turned on the lights.
Pain exploded in my eyes as I screwed them shut to allow them time to adjust. After several failed attempts, I finally managed to pry my lids open.
He was still standing across the room, but his eyes were closed and he was shaking his head.
“Porter?” I whispered.
“I fucking knew it.” His abs rippled deliciously as he thrust a hand into the top of his hair.
“What?” I asked, sitting up.
His lids opened, heat radiating from his piercing blue eyes as they raked over my body. “I never should have turned that fucking light off.” He tipped his chin at me, his lips twitching. “I have a feeling I missed one hell of a show.” Then he winked—so fucking sexy.
I bit my lip to stifle the laugh. “The light definitely has its perks.” I allowed my gaze to drift down to his toes then back up to his eyes, where I returned his wink. “You are very naked,” I said, rising to my feet.
He chuckled. “So are you.”
My lips curled up as I prowled toward him, his eyes darkening as I got close.
Stopping in front of him, I rested my hands on his hard chest. “You. Are. Gorgeous.”
Folding his arms around my waist, he dipped, touched his lips to mine, and repeated, “So are you.”
And then he kissed me, hot and heavy, wiping the smile off my face at the same time that he sent a rush of heat between my thighs.
I pushed up onto my toes to take it deeper, but he lifted his head and ordered, “Put on your pants. You need to clean up, and I don’t have a bathroom in here.” He released me and went to a closet door behind his desk, his ass gloriously on display as he sauntered away.
I stared unapologetically. He had a really nice ass, and it was attached to really nice powerful thighs at the bottom and a really nice trim and defined back at the top.
It was a fantastic view, and I took full advantage.
“Small?” he asked without turning around.
“Huh?” I asked his ass.
He turned to face me so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to divert my gaze.
Aannnnd, now, I was staring at his cock. (I should note that it, too, was really nice. Long and thick, even as it hung sated between his legs.)
I jerked my eyes up to his and found him smirking.
My cheeks heated, but I shrugged and pointed at the ceiling. “Sorry. It’s the lights.”
A huge smile broke across his face. “What size shirt do you wear, sweetheart?”
“Oh. Yeah, small.”
He slid a black, neatly folded T-shirt bearing The Porterhouse logo from the bottom of a tall stack and closed the door. His bare feet padded against the wood as he walked back to me.
“Hands up,” he said, bunching the fabric together to expose the neck opening. He didn’t wait for me to obey before sliding it over my head.
“I need to put my bra on first,” I objected.
“It’s wet,” he said, tugging the shirt down my torso so I was forced to poke my arms through the holes or have them pinned at my sides.
“It’ll dry.”
He kissed my forehead and snuck a hand between us to pluck my nipple. “And, when it does, you can put it back on.”
I gasped and swayed into him, gripping his biceps for balance.
“Come on. Get dressed. I have less than seven hours before the sun comes up. I’m taking you somewhere.”
Surprised, I peered up at him. “What? Where?”
He kissed me again and then walked away, muttering, “Somewhere.”
I cried a little inside as he pulled his pants on, but then I got to work doing the same. When we were both dressed, he took my hand and led me through the restaurant, to the bathroom. Thankfully, I didn’t have to face any of his staff, as it appeared they had finished closing up during our little reunion of sorts.
After I finished doing my business in the bathroom, Porter once again wrapped my hand in his and guided me to the back door, where I waited while he went to the front to lock up and set the alarm.
It was still raining as we ran to his black Tahoe, which was parked beside the back door. He opened my door and I quickly slid inside. Then I giggled as I watched him trying to cover his head as he rounded the hood to the driver’s door.
He climbed in, grumbling, “Tomorrow, I’m buying a pullout couch for my office and a fucking umbrella.”
I laughed, and he shot me a dazzling smile.
“So, where are we going?” I asked, buckling up then turning sideways in my seat to face him.
A devilish glint danced in his eyes as he announced, “We…are going to steal a car.”
I twisted my lips, and my eyebrows pinched together. “Um…why?”
Holding my gaze, he put the truck in reverse and whispered in arrogance, “Because we can.” He paused. “And because I’m suddenly feeling seriously inadequate after seeing your BMW parked out front.”
I erupted in laughter and followed his gaze as he pivoted in his seat to see out the back window.
And then my laughter died.
Secured in the center of his backseat was a pink-and-purple flowery car seat. My stomach clenched as I stared at it. An abandoned sippy cup filled the attached cup holder, and a lone Barbie had been haphazardly discarded on the seat beside it.
I wasn’t delusional, going through life pretending children didn’t exist. I saw them every day. At the grocery store. At restaurants. Riding their bikes in my apartment complex. For the most part, I ignored them. Self-preservation and all.
But that car seat was like the ten-thousand-pound elephant in the room with Porter and me.
Porter’s daughter sat in that seat, more than likely singing songs and laughing at her father’s corny jokes. His son probably sat beside her, rolling his eyes and acting like he was too cool to hang out with them. All of this while Porter sat in the driver’s s
eat, stealing glances of his babies in the rearview mirror, his heart full and his smile wide.
“Charlotte?” he called, pulling my attention away from the backseat.
I blinked and realized he’d stopped halfway out of the parking spot. Shaking my head, I tried to snap myself out of it, but my gaze kept flicking back to that car seat.
“Look at me,” he urged, gently taking my hand in his and resting them both on his thigh. “What’s going on?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and squeaked, “It’s really bright in here, Porter.”
His hand released mine and moved to curl around the back of my neck, at which point he dragged me toward him until our foreheads touched. “Okay. You good with me driving your car?”
I nodded, my forehead rolling against his.
His soft lips came to mine, pressing deep before he said, “Hold on tight, sweetheart.”
And hold on I did. It only took about fifteen seconds for him to drive around the building to my car, but I clung to his hand as though he were the only thing keeping me from floating away. I tried not to dash out as soon as he got the car in park, but I suspected I failed, considering I was already in the passenger’s seat of my car before Porter had cut the ignition on his truck.
I was silently cursing myself for being such a basket case when he climbed inside and slid the driver’s seat all the way back to accommodate his long legs.
Embarrassment assaulted me. “I’m really sorry. I…”
I trailed off when my ass was suddenly up off the leather. My hip bounced off the steering wheel and my legs got tangled on the gearshift, but he didn’t stop jostling me until he had my ass in his lap.
“Thirty minutes,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I drive an extra thirty minutes every day to get to work just so I don’t have to go over that bridge again.”
My heart soared, and I lifted my eyes to his.
“I’m amending our deal, Charlotte. No questions. No judgment. No faking it.” He kissed me and then finished with, “No apologies.”
My face got all scrunchy in that hideous way that happens when you’re fighting tears back. “You’re such an amazing guy.”
He grinned. “Does that mean you don’t think I’m a serial killer anymore?”
“Not a serial killer, but you proposed grand theft auto, so I’m thinking a life of crime is still a high possibility.”
His grin stretched, and he shifted me back into my seat, ordering, “Buckle up, Buttercup.”
I followed his directions, and as he pulled out of the parking lot, it was me who was reaching to hold his hand.
* * *
My mouth fell open as he turned down the long, oak-lined driveway, a huge, white, old-South plantation house appearing on the horizon. It had gorgeous top and bottom wraparound porches that made my mouth water and a brick horseshoe driveway that all but required you to fill it with guests.
“Is this your house?” I breathed, sitting forward in my seat so I could peer up at the extraordinary weeping willows on either side of the house.
He chuckled, lifted my hand to his mouth, and kissed my knuckles. “Sorry to disappoint, but no.”
“Then where are we?”
He grinned, releasing my hand to turn my car off. “Somewhere.”
“Any chance I’m going to get arrested for being here?” I asked, opening my car door.
On the drive over, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. During those same fifteen minutes, Porter and I hadn’t talked much. He’d stolen glances at me out of the corner of his eye, a smile pulling at his lips each time. And I’d clung to his hand, lamenting the moment I had to let it go.
“A small one.”
“Fantastic,” I deadpanned.
He walked over and hooked an arm around my shoulders, pulling my front into his side. Then he kissed the top of my head. “Relax. It’s my brother’s house. We aren’t going to get arrested, but we are absolutely going to break in.” He released me and took my hand, dragging me after him.
I jogged to keep up as he trotted up the front steps. The house was dark, but the front porch light came on when we reached the front door, scaring the shit out of me.
Porter laughed as he dug into his back pocket and pulled his wallet out. “Chill. He’s not home. If he were, this whole place would be lit up like Times Square. I swear the man is incapable of turning a light off.” He slid a single loose key out and then passed his wallet my way. “Hold this.”
I nodded, and as I took the well-worn, brown bifold from his hands, a thought hit me.
The lock clicked, and he stealthily pushed the door open only to stop and stare at me without entering. “Did you take money out of my wallet?”
“Yeah,” I answered curtly, shoving a handful of twenty-dollar bills into my back pocket before returning his wallet.
He blinked. “You low on cash?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
He blinked again, his lips beginning to twitch. “So is there a reason you’re robbing me?”
“Oh, I’m not robbing you,” I said, peering into the semi-open door and glancing around the dark foyer. “I’m taking back what you owe me.”
“What I owe you?” he repeated, incredulous.
I had a feeling the house was equally as gorgeous on the inside as it was the outside. I couldn’t see much but a stone entryway butted up against dark hardwood floors. The ceilings were high, and I could barely make out a breathtaking split staircase that would have made Scarlett O’Hara froth at the mouth.
Pushing the door wide, completely forgetting I was trespassing, I stepped inside.
“I’m sorry. How exactly do I owe you money?” Porter asked behind me.
“For the upgraded security system,” I replied absently, staring at the massive crystal chandelier above us.
His hand hit the small of my back as he got in my space and forced my gaze to his. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he whispered, humor dancing in his eyes.
“After you came barreling into my office a few weeks ago, Greg and Rita insisted we put a lock on the door up front. Now, the receptionist has to buzz you through to the back. It was well over a grand to install, so consider this your down payment.”
He barked a laugh and placed his hands on my ass. One slipped into my back pocket, where I felt him retrieve the money. “You forget, sweetheart, you came barreling into my office tonight. And, while I will never in a million years put a security system on my door to keep you out, I’m gonna need that cash to pay to soundproof my office.” He nipped my bottom lip.
I kissed him and then mumbled, “Who says I’m coming back?”
His handsome face softened. “I hope like hell you don’t ever come to me the way you did tonight. But, if you do, I’ll always be there. Door open. Light switch poised. Darkness waiting.”
My stomach fluttered and something in the back of my throat prickled. I didn’t respond, but I tipped my head back and kissed the underside of his jaw, praying that it somehow conveyed how grateful I was for what he had just given me.
“Come on. I want to show you something.” He took my hand, pure Porter, and led me through the dark house, moonlight serving as our only guide to a porch complete with a pair of white rocking chairs and a hammock tied in the corner.
He moved to the swaying ropes and sat before gathering me in his arms and pulling me down on top of him. I went willingly, resting my head on his chest and relishing in his warmth as he wrapped his arms around me.
He pointed over the balcony railing. “There’s a pond back there.”
I lifted my head to look but couldn’t make anything out in the darkness. I settled back on his chest, listening to his heart thumping in my ear, as I said, “This house is gorgeous.”
“Tanner bought it about two years ago. I was in a bad place back then.” He stopped then amended, “A worse place, anyway. He was worried about me, and I swear to God he never let me out of his sight. He used to come over and sit with me while I stared at t
he wall, replaying that day in the river over and over, desperately trying to make it change.”
I knew that feeling all too well. My lungs burned as I listened to him intently, my hand reflexively twisting in his shirt. He pried it away but only so he could intertwine our fingers.
“You need to understand: I’ve always loved the water. We grew up tubing and skiing on Lake Lanier with my family. But, after that day with Catherine, I could barely even take a shower without the water slicing through me. It had been over a year, but the hate inside me was getting worse. Well, on a particularly bad day, Tanner dragged me to look at this house he was thinking about buying. I took one look at that pond and lost my fucking mind. Like, I’m not kidding, Charlotte. Lost. It. It was beyond freezing, but fully clothed, without even emptying my pockets, I ran into that pond, cussing and screaming, slamming my fists against the surface as if I could hurt the water as much as it had hurt me.” He swallowed hard. “I needed the pain to stop in a bad way.”
Tears were in my eyes as I curved my body into his side. I hated how much Porter and I shared. At the same time, it filled me in unimaginable ways.
“That was me tonight,” I confessed.
He nodded, acknowledging my words, but he didn’t let it veer him from his story. “Tanner followed me in. Floating beside me on his back while I lost my shit. When I’d finally exhausted myself, we were both shivering uncontrollably and he forced me to the shore, where we collapsed on the ground. Staring up at the sky, I asked him, ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ And my dumbass, clueless, little brother, whose greatest difficulty in life had been deciding what woman to sleep with on Friday night, looked at me and said the most profound thing I had ever heard. ‘You’re done holding on, Porter. But you have no fucking idea how to let go.’”
I gasped and my body turned to stone as the words permeated through me. That was exactly how I felt. Like I was hanging on the edge of a cliff, my fingers slipping, my aching and exhausted body dangling above the promise of a future, while my little boy’s dark-brown eyes stared at me from above. How was I supposed to make a choice like that?
“Porter,” I breathed. “I don’t know how to let go of him.”