He looked ready to thrust into her, but he could read her body better than she could. He eased into her passage, moving slowly and letting her stretch around him. She’d already come, already been shattered into a million pieces. Her clit still sensitive from her orgasm, her entrance still recovering from the explosion just moments before, but everything calmed beneath his touch.
He rocked over her in slow, deliberate thrusts. His hands splayed out on either side of her head, his face only a breath away. His eyes bore into hers, but she didn’t look away this time. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. He was a man in possession of what was his, and she didn’t want to see anything other than that look of ownership, that look of pride in his eyes as he ground his pelvis into her. Not too much, not too little, the perfect amount of friction against her clit.
The pressure built again, he thrust harder, faster. His eyes never left hers. His guttural sounds of pleasure filled the space between them. Her own pants were lost in the air, mingling between the sound of the light creak of her mattress and his low groans.
“Come for me again, Carissa. I want to feel you come.” He dove deeper into her, pressing his body against her clit. She arched upward, taking him, wanting everything he could give her.
She didn’t think coming again was possible so soon after a hard orgasm had ripped through her. His words, his tone, the way he seemed to own her with just his stare brought her to the brink and, with one more hard thrust, she opened to him. Another mind-bending release taking her away and letting her see the tenderness with which he fucked her, the sweetness of his possession and the passion of his desire.
He moved his hand to grip her hip and pushed harder into her. His breaths coming faster, his groans more animalistic. As the waves subsided within her, he groaned and stilled, finding his own release and pumping his seed into her body.
He let out a long breath and rested his forehead against hers. His hot breath mingling with hers.
“I probably could have forgone the run today,” she whispered after several silent moments stretched out between them.
He laughed and slapped her hip. “Yeah, you probably could have.”
Slipping from her body, he moved to her side, pulling her to cuddle beside him. She could feel his seed spilling from her, knowing she should get up and clean up, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, again reading her thoughts. “I’ll take care of everything if you’ll only give over and let me.” A kiss pressed against her forehead.
And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around her, his heart pounding beneath her ear on his chest, she could see doing it. Doing exactly what he asked, giving over completely, for more than just a set amount of time.
But what scared her, what made her mouth dry with fear, was that she not only could see it—she wanted it.
Chapter 9
“My father has invited us over to dinner on Sunday night,” Jamison said over an impromptu dinner of pizza and beer. His girl did not know how to keep a fridge stocked. He’d tried to rummage up something for them to eat, but only found several containers of leftover take out and some eggs.
“Your father?” She seemed to blanch a bit at the mention of his father. Given her thoughts on any longstanding relationship between them, he supposed he could understand, but meeting Baron Croft, wasn’t the same as meeting your lover’s father. It was business.
“He’s trying to convince me to join him in a new venture. It’s just a business dinner, really.” He took a pull of his beer. Her kitchen was a bit cramped. He tried to scoot his chair back a bit more to get comfortable and knocked into the pantry door.
“You don’t get along outside of business?” she asked, picking off the sausage from her piece of pizza. She’d asked for sausage pizza when he suggested it, and at first, he thought she’d changed her mind. But she picked off all the sausage and ate it last, after she’d eaten the slice.
“We don’t really talk other than business.” He shrugged, putting his beer back on the table. “Just his way.”
“And your mom? You haven’t mentioned her.” She popped a round bit of the spicy meat into her mouth.
His stomach tightened. It had been almost two decades since he’d seen his mother, but still the mention of her could make his body twist.
“I haven’t seen her in a long time. She and my father divorced when I was about seven.” Divorced is the legal term but abandoned is more accurate.
“Oh.” He watched her expression, looking for pity. Most woman who knew he’d grown up without a mother quickly saw that as a reason for his over protective nature, a reason to show him how much a woman could love a man. They wanted to heal a part of him that didn’t need healing, but not Carissa. That one little word had been her response, and there wasn’t anything lurking behind it. Like she understood, she got it, and didn’t see anything to feel sorry for.
“She didn’t fight for custody? I mean your father is a big guy to go up against, but there wasn’t a fight?” More curiosity than pity laced her tone. Hope, maybe. Did she hope, like he had for so many years, that his mother at least had fought for him before walking away emptyhanded?
“No. She decided motherhood and being my dad’s wife wasn’t what she wanted, and she walked.” He grabbed his beer and took another swig. He’d gotten over his mother’s betrayal years ago.
His father, distant and cold, hadn’t given him much notice really but he’d made sure he had an excellent education and everything else he needed to grow up successful.
“What about you? Your parents still married?”
She gave a laugh.
“No.” She picked at the label on her beer bottle. “Last I heard from my dad, he was living somewhere in Texas. New wife, new life. But that was years ago. Who knows where he is or what he’s up to? Not much of a settler.” She gave him a smile, but it didn’t quite touch her eyes. He didn’t see sadness, and he didn’t suspect that she wanted any more pity than he did over her broken home.
“How about your mom? She still lives in Chicago?” He wasn’t sure what made him press her about her parents. She didn’t look very comfortable about the topic—any more than he was, but he needed to know more about her. He wanted to know all her bumps and bruises, everything about her.
“Yeah. Well, the suburbs. She lives out in Carpentersville with whichever current boyfriend she has.” He could make out the distaste she had for her mother in her tone. “We don’t see each other very often. It’s good. We’ve never been very close—she’s lived a bit of a nomad’s life, and I preferred to be settled. When she left the city to head out to the burbs with one of her boyfriends, I grabbed the first apartment I could find and stayed put.”
“What about nursing school? Did you do that here in the city?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Worked my ass off to pay for what I could. With student loans and a grant or two, I was able to get through.”
He imagined her working herself to the bone in order to provide a life for herself where she didn’t need to depend on a mother who seemed to not be there for her.
“A lot of stepdads run through your childhood?” He wasn’t sure what made him ask that question. He’d had a few stepmoms in his life, but they mostly ignored him like his father did once the rings were exchanged.
“Not dads, just men. Mom’s still looking for her Prince Charming I think.” She smiled again and shook her head a little. “Funny. We both grew up with our parents broken, but only one of us still thinks relationships work.”
His chest tightened. “Relationships work with two people who put in the effort.” He hadn’t meant to sound hard, but there it was. His mother didn’t try, and his father didn’t try with any of his wives. But he would. Fuck. He’d give everything he had to make it work with the right woman. Even if she still didn’t believe in relationships.
“Your mom never tried to explain?”
He huffed. She changed the topic, but that was fine. They were m
aking progress, even if she couldn’t admit to it yet.
“No, she just left. Never said a word, never sent a card or called.”
Carissa furrowed her brow and took a sip of beer. “Then how do you know she just up and went? I mean, you were seven—how did you know what was really going on? Maybe your father didn’t let her come around. He’s not exactly a nice man.”
He should have felt insulted. Wouldn’t any son feel at least annoyed if his girlfriend said something like that about this father? But she wasn’t wrong. His father was calculating and cold. If he wanted something, he took it. If he needed something, he took it, and he never gave back or gave at all unless it benefited him in some way. Even when it came to his son.
“You know my father?” he asked, more curious than insulted.
“No, not really. Garrick’s mentioned him a few times. He never came across as a real warm guy.” She blushed. “I didn’t mean to insult him—or you.”
He leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. “No, you’re right. He’s not a good guy. All business with him.”
“Would you want to talk with your mom if you knew where she was?”
Why was she pushing the subject of his mom? The woman had walked out on him and never looked back. He stopped wishing he could talk to her again before the first pimple popped up on his pubescent face.
“You think my father paid her off or something? To stay away?” He let himself laugh over the idea. “As much as my father loves to win, I doubt even he would do that.”
She lowered her gaze. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“I don’t know.” What would he even say to her after all the years she’d been gone from his life? Could they even have a conversation that wouldn’t leave a sour, bitter taste behind? “What about your father?”
“No. I’m better off on my own. But I know where I stand with both of them. You have this unfinished part of your childhood,”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He laughed. She’d struck a nerve, though.
As if sensing the subject was getting too hard to keep light, she asked about meeting his father.
“He wants Garrick and Jade to be there, too. Like I said, a business dinner. He wants to build a hotel here in the city, and he wants us to go in on it with him.”
“Don’t you already own half the city?” she questioned then popped the last bit of sausage into her mouth.
“No, far from it. I own little shares in a variety of businesses and clubs. I work with my father on real estate deals, but we’ve never done something like this before.”
“Hmm.” She nodded and picked up her plate. “You done?” She reached for his, and he handed it to her.
He watched her take the plates to the sink and rinse them before putting them in the dishwasher. When she opened the door to the dishwasher, he noticed a few other plates with dried remains of food.
“When’s the last time you ran that thing?” he asked, coming up behind her and pointing out a dish.
“If it’s not full, I don’t run it.” She shrugged, pushed the shelf back in, and closed the door.
“That reminds me. The coffeemaker was on when I got here. It was burning.”
“Oh crap.” She picked up the carafe and studied it. “It’s still okay.” She flashed him a smile and went about setting it in the sink and filling it with water.
“How many have you ruined doing that?” he asked, suddenly annoyed at how little she seemed to pay attention to minor things like food and her safety.
“Just two.” She winked and finished cleaning up the last of the pizza then put the box in the fridge alongside a few other containers.
“Carissa, you’re a nurse. You have to know this isn’t a healthful way of living.”
She sighed, a heavy I-don’t-want to-talk-about-this exhale. “As a nurse, I understand it, but as a nurse who often works double shifts, or odd shifts, and who doesn’t have a lot of time to cook, I understand the necessity.”
“So, if we went over to Jade’s apartment, we’d find the same thing?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged as she told that lie.
“Where’s your computer?” he asked. It was time she let him take care of things for her, especially since she wasn’t going to do them for herself.
“In my bedroom, why?”
He didn’t answer, just marched off down the hall and grabbed the laptop, brought it back to the kitchen, and sat at the table. She stood behind him as he logged into his Peapod account. He’d used the grocery delivery service plenty of times. He had a cleaning service for his condo, but he didn’t have a cook, so he understood how hard it was to get to the grocery store some weeks.
“What are you doing?”
“Going grocery shopping,” he said and pointed to her chair. “I’m going to give you my login, and once a week I’d better see you put in an order for groceries. Real food. Fruits, veggies, snacks.”
“Your account? I’ll open my own.” She tried to take the laptop from him, but he brushed her hands away.
He turned in his chair, cupping her chin and lifting it until she looked at him. “Little girls obey their daddy, don’t they? They do what they are told, even if it’s not what they want. Right?”
“This is different.” She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.
“No. It’s not. If left up to you, you’d be eating ramen noodles and takeout every night. You’ll use my account. What do good girls do when their daddy tells them to do something?”
He watched her throat constrict when she swallowed. “They listen to him.”
“That’s right. And when Daddy is taking care of you, what do you do?”
She took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy, this Q&A, but it was necessary.
“I let you.”
“That’s right. Now, I’m going to put an order in. It will be delivered tomorrow. I know you work during the day, so I’ll have them do a drop-off. It’ll be here when you get home.”
“Can’t I put in the order?” She sounded a little pitiful. He brushed his lips across hers and released her chin.
“Nope. You can put in the next one. This one is going to be a bit big. I want to be sure you have everything you need.”
She looked ready to argue, but she leaned back in the chair and turned her attention to the computer screen. “Can I at least get ice cream, Daddy?” she whispered when he clicked off the dairy tab.
* * *
Two days later, Jamison poured over projection reports and quotes from various builders and contractors. He hadn’t even started looking at the real estate proposals to buy out the buildings they would need to knock down to make room for his father’s grand hotel.
Since Carissa had questioned him about this mother, he’d found the idea of maybe looking her up drifting in and out of his mind.
Carissa had a good point. His father could have very well kept her away on purpose. Though he couldn’t think of any reason the man would do that. He’d always seen himself as a bother to his father. One more thing to take care of, or rather hire a staff member to take care of. He’d never shown much interest in Jamison until after he graduated with his MBA and started moving into the business realm. Then he’d had a purpose, and a man with purpose was held in high regard.
Once Jamison had decided to break out on his own, to not follow his father’s shadow around, his purpose had become less. Which meant Jamison himself was less needed. He hadn’t completely broken from his father’s company; he still worked on projects with him. Now that he had his own money, he was able to contribute as an investor as well. He still didn’t see an ounce of fatherly love or approval, but at least he had some purpose to him again.
That idea brought it back to Carissa. She’d written off her parents. She didn’t hold onto them, trying to wedge herself into their lives and make them see what an awesome person she’d turned out to be. She didn’t need to; she already knew it herself. She didn’t need or look for their approval.
Her confidence came from herself, from her own self-worth—she didn’t need it to come from anywhere outside herself.
Which made it so much sweeter when she blushed at being called his good girl, or when she looked up at him to see if he approved.
Fuck. She was getting under his skin, more than he was prepared for. What if she walked away after the month ended? What if he couldn’t get her to understand they could make it long term, that he would be her daddy, her lover, her everything if she would just let him in. He’d never hurt her, and he’d fucking lay out anyone who tried. He wouldn’t walk away like her father and all the men her mother seemed to parade through her life.
“Mr. Croft, your father’s on his way in,” a hurried voice rang through the speaker of his phone as his door flung open.
“Father.” He sat back in his chair. “I’ve seen you more in the last week than I have in the last six months.” He was sure Baron could hear the sharpness of his tone. Though he doubted the man would address it. He looked to be on a mission again.
“You’re looking at the reports. Good.”
“Yes. Garrick and I are meeting at the location this afternoon to take a look.”
“Good. Good.” He clapped his hands together.
“You could have just called.” Jamison steepled his hands over the reports.
“I’m heading over to have lunch with Victoria, and I decided to stop in.”
“Victoria?”
“A woman I’m seeing. It’s not serious.” He waved a hand through the air. No woman was serious to his father. “I wanted to be sure you were still coming to dinner tomorrow?”
“Yes. We can talk about the project then.”
“Good. Good,” he said again and rubbed his hands together.
“Are you going to tell me why this is so important? Why this sudden change in business and so fast?”
Baron walked over to the windows behind Jamison’s desk and looked out at the city. “I’m getting older, Jamison. And I’ve realized all I’ve done my entire life is buy and sell, buy and sell. I haven’t left a real mark on anything. There’s nothing to leave behind that shows I was here.”
Until Daddy: Dark Lace Series Page 9
