Fuck. I can’t wait to get deep inside her. My lips demand more from her, and she complies, not by submitting but by matching the intensity of the kiss. The need in me is too much and too fucking hard to control.
I want to fuck her raw.
Hard.
I can’t resist the desire boiling under my skin.
Slow, I remind myself.
Fucking slow down. This is sweet, Abby.
She’s inexperienced, that’s what I gather from her request about going slow. Even if every nerve in my body is screaming to get her naked and, on her back, I must pace myself on how we take things to the next level.
I suck on her bottom lip hard before pulling myself away from her. It’s so fucking difficult to take it slowly. Maybe it’s the hardest challenge I’ve come across in a long time. I want to spend an eternity tasting her lips and loving her as she comes undone in my arms.
She gasps for air, her eyes shining with lust. My dick gets harder as she licks her full lips and stares at my crotch. Down boy. I take a deep breath, staring at the ceiling for a few beats.
“That was impressive,” she says with a throaty voice. “You’re a good kisser, Ahern. I might want you to show me your skills more often.”
“At your service, my lady.” I wink at her.
She smiles, her eyes brighten, and my heart beats fast. I brush some strands of hair away from her face and kiss the tip of her nose. It’s clear that she’s doing better. Her eyes look rested; her shoulders aren’t stiff. It’s been a good day so far. After she ate her sandwich, we swam a few laps in the pool and went out for a walk with Terry. Abby took a second nap while I worked for a couple of hours. When she woke up, she prepared a pitcher of blackberry mint daiquiris and a platter of strawberries.
“Tahoe agrees with you,” I say, staring into her beautiful eyes.
“We should live here,” she suggests, batting her eyelashes.
She says it lightly, but I can tell there’s some truth behind her request. This is her favorite spot in the entire world.
“If we did, what would we do for a living?”
“Anything. The sky is the limit.” She tilts her head slightly toward the horizon. “You could develop games, and I’ll be your bookkeeper. We can work here by the dock, or even here on the terrace. Wear shorts, eat strawberries all day, and drink daiquiris too. Even adopt a dog.”
“It gets cold during winter,” I remind her.
“You’re no fun, Ahern.” She scrunches her nose at my computer. “Are you done for the day?”
I nod but go back to my computer to check my email one last time. I print the reports I received from the Ava Stanley deal and close my laptop.
“My guy came through. I have the information you asked for,” I announce.
She tilts her head, sucking on her lower lip. “I didn’t know you had a guy.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Is he cute?”
“How much have you drank, Abbs?”
“I’m tipsy.” She shrugs. “What are you talking about?”
“The police reports. Do you want to read them?”
“Nah, I’m not drunk enough to read his lies or take a walk down memory lane,” she says and gasps, clamping her lips shut.
The comment makes my fingers itch. I want to grab the report and read it from beginning to end until I can piece together the puzzle that is Abigail’s past.
“We should take a break from all that,” she says, absently.
Her forehead wrinkles and she grabs her quartz bracelet. “What are we doing tonight?”
“It’s date night. Go out for dinner and come back to watch a movie, like we do every Friday,” I tell her, taking her hand and leading her toward the office that’s next to the master bedroom.
“Hmm.” She snatches her hand away from my grip and eyes me suspiciously. “We’re not counting all those years as dating, Ahern. You’re not telling our grandchildren that we’ve been together since my sophomore year of college.”
The straps of her flouncy top fall off her shoulders, distracting me from her comment. Our grandchildren. I can only focus on the fabric that barely covers the areolas of her plump breasts. My dick hardens with the thought of sucking the tips of those beautiful tits. Fuck. My pants shrink as my cock thickens pressing against the zipper.
“Are you okay, Ahern?”
“Never been better,” I say, fixing her top. “Why don’t you get ready?”
“We could stay home and eat on the terrace.”
Though I love the idea of staying home, I’d rather not be anywhere near a bed with this beauty. My self-control is running thin.
“Be ready in an hour, Lyons,” I say, picking up the documents from the printer and then heading to my bedroom.
“Bossy!” she yells. She then walks away.
“You love it when I’m bossy.”
“No, but I accept you the way you are, Ahern.” She blows me a kiss and goes into her room.
25
Wes
I arrived home around midnight. I didn’t notice anything different when I drove into the garage, but panicked when I heard the commotion coming from inside the house—the screams, the wailing. My heart beat as I thought of my girls being in danger. They weren’t mine, but I loved them both as if they were. When I came out of the garage, there was a man lying on the ground. Bleeding on the sidewalk.
I put down the report, shaking my head. It feels wrong to be reading it without Abby present. Though, so far, Corbin Stanley’s testimony has all my attention. I focus on our upcoming date instead. The online app to make the reservations doesn’t work, but I’m able to talk to the manager. After going through my closet, I decide on a pair of jeans, a dark jacket and a button-down shirt.
In the bathroom, there’s a heart shaped sticky note on the mirror.
Thank you for being my person. A
I’ve got no idea when she did this, but I love finding these simple notes around my house and in the office. The sweet gesture however doesn’t take away the gravity of the documents on top of my credenza.
Would it be okay to read it before Abby does? The truth is that I have no fucking idea how she’ll react once she reads through it, or how she’ll feel if I read it before she does. If going through the documents feels like violating her trust, then why the fuck am I staring at the papers? I worry that whatever it says might affect her. It might take a toll on her emotional and mental health.
“Ready, Ahern?” Her voice comes through my closed door.
I shove them inside my drawer deciding we are going to focus on ourselves for the next couple of weeks. The past, her stepfather, and anything that happened that night isn’t going to tamper with our time together. I put on my watch, grab my cell, the box containing a charm I bought for her, and the car keys before leaving my room.
She’s going to love what I got her. I want the entire night to be perfect. I made a reservation at Edgewood, one of her favorite restaurants in the area. The manager promised to have her table ready—the one next to the fire place with an astonishing view of the lake.
“So that’s how this is going to be? You’re just leaving me to fend for myself?” Sterling can’t disguise the smirk on his face.
“We could bring him along,” Abby suggests.
The selfless soul is falling for his antics.
“There’s frozen pizza. Or you can order online,” I say handing him the takeout menus.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” he says with a low voice. “It’s fine. I can go a night without dinner.”
Abby shakes her head and goes to the kitchen. “Linda spoiled you.” She turns on the oven pulls out a frozen meal from the freezer and her little notepad.
“Here, Slugger,” she scribbles and hands him a note. “You can follow the instructions. I’ll make sure to bring you a piece of chocolate cake on our way back.”
“Thank you, my sweetest friend.” He blows her a kiss.
“If I had to choose between the two of you, I’d keep
her.” He gives me a glance and marches toward the kitchen.
“Ready?” I grab Abby’s hand and kiss the back of it. “You look gorgeous.”
“The word is fucking-hot, big brother.”
“That’s two words,” Abby corrects him. “You should work on your lines. Maybe one day you’ll find the one.”
He glares at her. “Who the fuck said I ever wanted to settle down? That shit isn’t for me. You two kids have fun.”
“My, aren’t we a little defensive tonight?” She mumbles under her breath.
“You do look hot.”
Edible. She wears a long flouncy dress. The fabric is see-through. Under it, she wears a low cut, sleeveless top and a mini skirt that defines her curves and allows me to see her toned legs. Her wavy hair cascades down her back.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Wes.” She smiles at me. “But you always look hot no matter what.”
“Hmm?” I arch an eyebrow. “You think I’m hot?”
“Good looking at best,” she says disregarding her first comment. “Who really cares about a tall, lean, muscular guy with dreamy deep-blue eyes?” She shakes her head. “Not me, obviously.”
“I should’ve done this a long time ago,” I say opening the door of the Jeep. I lower my head and take her mouth with mine, kissing her deeply.
She tastes like strawberries, and I want to lick the rest of her—feast on her. I stop myself before I lose control of my body and do something stupid. Like take her right here, on top of the car.
“You know those times I’ve baked, and you try to control yourself, but instead you eat almost the entire cake in one sitting?” she asks as she climbs in the car.
“Uh-huh,” I say, staring at her.
“Afterwards your face turns red with embarrassment, yet your eyes are satiated, like you just ate a piece of heaven.”
“Your baking is like a piece of heaven,” I reiterate and close her door.
When I get in the car and turn on the engine she says, “Well, that’s the same face you make after you kiss me.”
I laugh, pretending that her analogy makes no sense. But deep down, I know what she’s talking about. That’s precisely what happens to me when I kiss her.
“Well, I promise not to eat you in one sitting.” I stop at the sign and glance at her. “Just yet.”
She stretches her neck and kisses my jaw. “We’ll see.”
26
Abby
Edgewood is one of my favorite restaurants. Wes and I come every time we visit Tahoe. The food is incredible, but what I love the most is the fire pit outside on the terrace and the view of the lake. Dinner isn’t any different from before. We usually have artichoke hearts as an appetizer. Wes orders the French onion soup—his favorite. I eat the bacon spinach salad. It’s not that I’m a salad girl, I’m actually a bacon girl. And the bacon they use is crispy and flavorful. Bacon is one of my weaknesses; my favorite food. Every dish in the world should include bacon. Life is better with a daily dose of bacon.
Over dinner, we talk about the weekend and how to include Sterling. Wes likes to pretend that Sterling annoys him, when in fact he enjoys having his brother close by. Since their father’s death, they’ve become closer. Last year, Sterling moved back to Colorado, and he’s trying to be a part of Wes’ life. Even when he seems like the selfish brat who doesn’t give a shit about life, he still adores and looks up to his older brother.
“Dessert?” Wes asks, pushing back a plate that contains nothing more than a lobster shell.
“Not for me,” I sigh looking at the delicious choices. “They need to add a gluten-free option. It’s not that hard.”
He reaches out his hand to me, entwining our fingers. “We could order ice cream if you want.” Wes kisses my knuckles. “There’re plenty of strawberries at home and chocolate. We could eat them on the terrace.”
“The terrace?” I stutter as my cheeks heat up.
My core tightens as I remember the kiss he gave me back there. Before today, his kisses had been gentle, soft, and patient.
Tonight though, after we watched the sunset, he took me into his arms and without a word, his lips were on me, his hands tangled in my hair, his tongue thrusting into my mouth. I sucked in a breath, and my body froze for a second because I was caught off guard by his roughness. But his scent and raspy moans reminded me that I was safe with him. The kiss was intense, desperate—even demanding and bossy.
I let him take me as he wanted. Actually, I matched his rhythm and greediness. It might have been the four daiquiris I drank, or the powerful kiss that made me feel bold, but either way, it quieted my mind to the point that I allowed myself to just enjoy it. An intense fire burned deep inside me. His hands went to my hips. He pressed my body against his. I felt weak; my legs nearly collapsed. Our mouths continued dancing with one another, the same way our bodies do when we’re at a party or a nightclub.
When he stopped, I whimpered at the loss, but I was thankful that he was able to stop. I’ve got no idea what would’ve happened had he continued.
He’s like eating a soft, warm, fresh-out-of-the-oven croissant. I want to spread butter and jelly on him and lick it. But I know that croissants contain gluten, and I’m allergic to them. Just like I know that my past experiences won’t allow me to be with him the way normal couples do. It already happened once, in college. I was at a frat party making out with a guy, and when his cold hand touched my stomach, I began to scream, and begged him to leave me alone.
That’s the only time I ever allowed anyone to touch me like that. My dates before Wes were just friendly meetings where I pretended to be interested, but I always ended up going home, grabbing my phone, and calling my best friend Wes instead.
“What are you thinking?” He places a strand of hair behind my ear. “You suddenly went quiet, but you look a little flushed.”
“You’re amazing,” I say, squeezing his hand. “I’m lucky to have you.”
“We’re lucky to have each other,” he offers, tracing his finger up and down my arm.
I shiver, and suddenly I want just a little more. Maybe a taste of what we can have because with him I feel incredibly safe. Safer than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. If we do this slowly, I might be able to conquer the power they’ve exercised over me all these years. With Wes, I might be able to take control of myself, my body, and my reactions to others.
“We can have dessert on the terrace,” I offer. “Why don’t we order Sterling’s chocolate cake and go home.”
He takes out a small box and hands it to me.
“You’re spoiling me, Wes,” I gasp when I unwrap a purple heart shaped pendant surrounded by a halo of diamonds. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s to remind you that I’m always with you. A promise that I’ll never leave you.”
My heart grows inside my chest. He’s perfect. So perfect that I hope he can accept all of me, even the imperfect parts.
— — —
We’ve been on the terrace, sharing a platter of berries and a lounge chair. We’ve kissed more than once. If I could, I would frame this moment. This one long, languid embrace where time stands still. I wish it’d last forever.
As my eyes begin to close, I dare to ask, “Are you staying with me tonight?”
“What do you want, Abby?”
I snuggle closer to him. We’re sharing a lounge chair, and he’s the most comfortable pillow in the world. The sound of his heart beating soothes me, and his arms around me feel like the only protection I need for the rest of my life.
“You,” I answer, kissing his rough jaw.
“Are you sure?”
“It won’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed, Ahern.”
“You’re tempting me, Abigail.”
“Am I?” I say playfully.
My fingers skim across his bare arm. They want to touch him a little more. Can I take it without running away screaming for my life?
“How far can we go?”
I suck
in my breath, going completely still at his question. The only sound I hear is my heart pumping hard.
He kisses the tip of my nose. “I wish I could read your mind.”
“I’m glad that’s not possible. You don’t want to know what’s inside. It’s both scary and sad.”
If it’s too scary for me to handle, I’m terrified that he’ll leave me after I tell him everything. I touch the pendant he gave me in hopes that what he said is true. He’ll always be with me and nothing can come between us.
27
Wes
After Abby falls asleep, I roll her carefully to her side of the bed and go downstairs for something to drink. I bring the dishes we brought upstairs earlier with me.
“Hey, you’re awake?” I greet my brother who sits at the kitchen island that’s covered with plastic.
“She’s not going to be happy,” I warn him when I realize that he’s working with clay.
“Abby’s cool as long as I clean up my shit,” he protests without batting an eyelash. He’s busy creating some shitty, shapeless piece of work.
By next month it’ll be at some art gallery selling for a few thousand dollars just because it’s a piece made by the famous Sterling Ahern.
Who knew that playing with dough as a child would pay off so much when he grew up?
“When did you two started banging?”
I huff and set the dirty dishes in the sink.
“I take your silence and brooding to mean that you’re still petting the lizard, palming the oyster, milking the moose?”
Under any other circumstance, I’d lash out about those childish terms. Instead, I laugh. Those were the terms Dad used a few times when we had the talk, or to remind us that jerking off was normal, but we should do it discreetly.
“I swear he gave me the sex talk every time I went out on a date,” I say rolling my eyes.
As of today, I still have the first condom he gave me. It was just too fucking weird to use it. I couldn’t tell him no thank you, I have a box. My first time was at fifteen, and I already knew all about condoms and not knocking up the girl.
Love in the Dark Page 140
