The Darkest Sunrise (The Darkest Sunrise Duet Book 1)

by Aly Martinez

  She laughed. “Don’t do that. You’ll end up with third-degree burns.”

  I smiled. “Okay. Now, are we done with that?”

  “Yeah, I’m done.”

  “Good. Are the kids asleep?”

  “Hannah is, but Trav is sitting here staring at me. I think he wants to talk to you.”

  “Put him on,” I said, sliding my desk drawer open and peering inside as I’d done so many times recently.

  Truth was, I would have loved to have a night out, but I would have wanted it to be with Charlotte. Hell, I would have taken her out dancing if that was all I got. Though I could almost picture her horrified expression at the idea of going into a nightclub.

  I was chuckling at the thought when his voice came across the line.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, bud. Why are you still awake?”

  He sucked in a deep breath that sounded like music to my ears. He’d been doing marginally better. Breathing treatments were still a way of life, but he hadn’t been back to the hospital, so I chalked it up as progress.

  “I’ve got Minecraft-itis,” he said.

  I smiled. “That sounds serious.”

  “It is. And the current treatment plan isn’t working. I think it’s time to take more aggressive measures and talk to Grandma about giving me back my iPad.”

  I laughed. “Bud, it’s eleven and you have school tomorrow.”

  His voice remained serious. “No. I have a tutor coming over tomorrow morning. Then I have to spend four hours doing school work. And, by then, I might have wasted away from the effects of this terrible disease. I think we can both agree no one wants that.”

  My lips lifted in a genuine smile only my boy could give me. “I love you, Travis.”

  “Is that a yes?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

  “No. Go to bed. I hear Minecraft-itis goes into remission when you sleep. Give it a try and I’ll check on you when I get home to make sure your hands haven’t turned into pickaxes and your body into diamond armor.”

  He groaned. “You suck.”

  “I so, completely do. And you’re welcome. Now, go to bed.”

  I could almost hear him rolling his eyes.

  “Fine.” He paused. “I love you, Dad.”

  My heart twisted and grew all at the same time. “I love you too, Trav. More than you will ever know.”

  My mom came back on the line. “Okay, baby. I’m going to hit the hay now. You be careful driving home.”

  “I will, and I’ll be quiet when I come in. Thanks, Mom.”

  “No problem. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I hung up and reached into the open drawer to pull out that crumbled-up cocktail napkin map.

  Yeah. I’d kept it.

  Yeah. It made me a bitch.

  Yeah. I didn’t give a single fuck.

  For a few hours, I’d sat at that booth and forgotten about the world outside. I’d listened to a broken woman laughing, and as stupid as it might sound, it had done wonders to soothe the hate inside me.

  I traced my fingers over the arrows I’d made leading to the exits, wishing I had taken her hand, dragged her out of that restaurant, and disappeared into the night with her at my side. In that world, outside those doors, Travis wasn’t sick, Charlotte wasn’t shattered, and I was able to extinguish the fire blazing inside me once and for all. In other words, the impossible.

  Closing my eyes, I tossed it back into the drawer.

  I was rising to my feet, heading for the door to help the staff finish closing up so we could all get the hell out of there, when I heard the commotion outside.

  “I said, wait up front!” Emily, the hostess, called out as my office door swung open.

  My whole body locked up tight as a woman came flying inside.

  And then my heart stopped, unsure if she was real.

  I blinked. Then blinked again. It didn’t look like her, but I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

  She was soaking wet from the rain, tears dripping from her eyes, her eye makeup running down her ghostly white face, and her entire body was trembling.

  “Charlotte,” I rasped, slipping around my desk.

  Emily appeared behind her. “I’m sorry, Porter. I asked her to wait out front.”

  I lifted a hand to cut her off, never tearing my gaze away from the woman I’d somehow willed into fruition. “It’s fine. Shut the door behind yourself.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Sorry,” she rushed out, and then I heard the door click.

  Alone.

  My heart slammed against my ribs and thundered in my ears.

  I took a slow step forward, cautious as though the movement might spook her.

  She didn’t say anything as she stared at me with wild eyes, her chin quivering, her mouth opening and closing as if she were trying to talk.

  I curled a finger in the air. “C’mere.”

  She didn’t move, so I stepped closer and kept my voice soft, my arms aching to reach her.

  “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

  She closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest, and on a loud sob I could barely make out, she cried, “I need it to stop.” She looked back up, the emptiness searing me. “I need it to stop, Porter.”

  I didn’t waste another second. My legs devoured the distance between us until our bodies crashed together, her hand fisting the back of my shirt as she buried her face in my chest.

  “It won’t stop,” she cried, and it was so visceral that it slashed through me. “I just need it to stop.”

  Gliding a hand up her back and into her hair, I tucked her face into my neck. “Shh… I’ll stop with you, Charlotte. I’ll stop with you.”

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and climbed up my body, circling her legs around my hips.

  Slapping a hand out to the side, I turned the lights off and plunged the room into darkness—our darkness. Then I carried her over to the leather loveseat in the corner and sat with her securely on my lap.

  She burrowed into me, her legs on either side of my hips, our chests so tight that I could feel her heart thumping. Strangled words flew from her lips, most of which I couldn’t make out. But there was one phrase she kept repeating.

  “It has to stop, Porter. It has to stop.”

  I brushed her dripping hair off her shoulder and peppered chaste kisses against her temple, murmuring, “I’ll stop with you. Right now, it’s just me and you in the dark.”

  Her body bucked from sobs, and she writhed as though she were trying to crawl inside me.

  I whispered her name over and over, for no other reason than to remind her I was there.

  I couldn’t be sure how long we sat there, but with every second that passed, the likelihood of letting her go grew smaller and smaller. She was in utter emotional upheaval, but she was in my arms, so I was breathing for the first time in two weeks.

  After a few minutes, her chest stopped heaving and her cries fell silent. And a few minutes after that, her tense body relaxed into me.

  “There you go,” I praised, gathering her wet hair in one hand to get it off her neck.

  “It’s been ten years. And it’s getting worse,” she confessed, nuzzling her soft cheek against my stubble.

  “No judgments,” I whispered.

  Her head came up and turned. I couldn’t see shit, but I thought I felt her lips sweep mine before she went back to softly nuzzling the other side of my face.

  “What’s your darkest secret, Porter?”

  Without an ounce of hesitation—not with her—I admitted, “I think I killed my wife.”

  Her body went stiff, and then it melted as if she were somehow relieved.

  That time, I definitely felt her lips, and my body came alive as she pressed a deep, apologetic kiss to my mouth. I slanted my head, but when I tried to touch my tongue with hers, her mouth shifted to my ear.

  “I’m afraid that he’s alive,” she whispered.

  I sucked in a sharp breath and
hugged her tight. “Charlotte…”

  Her tone grew painfully intense. “What if whoever took him abuses him? There are horrible people in this world, Porter. What if he’s hungry? Would they take him to the doctor when he got sick or just leave him to suffer?”

  Those were all serious concerns I couldn’t address. But the darkness wasn’t about fixing each other. It was only about knowing we weren’t alone.

  “What if, instead of fighting her, I had forced her to the surface?” I asked. “What if I had realized before that day that she was suicidal? There had to have been clues I missed. I hit her, Charlotte. With the same hands I use to hold my children, I hit their mother and then left her to die.” My voice broke as I wrenched my eyes shut.

  Her hands framed my face at the same time her lips came back. We both inhaled reverently, sharing the air as though it could bring us closer.

  Our parallel conversation continued when she murmured, “For years, I daydreamed about finding him. I must have created a million different scenarios where the police brought him back to me.” Her already quiet voice became softer. “Now, I dream about them telling me he’s dead so I can finally let go.”

  Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, my breath breezing over her skin as it flew from my lungs.

  I didn’t have time to acknowledge the pain because she was waiting for my next confession. And it was probably the darkest one I’d ever have to share.

  “For the last two weeks, I’ve missed you more than I’ve ever missed her.”

  She gasped and then whispered a sad, “Porter.”

  “I get why we can’t be together, Charlotte. I swear to God I do. But I’ve never in my life been able to talk to someone like this. I don’t go through the motions with you. For one fucking day, I wasn’t numb or angry. But the best part was that you know what it’s like, so it wouldn’t have mattered if I was.” Cupping her jaw, I tilted her head down to rest her forehead on mine. “I know who you are, Charlotte. And I know it doesn’t feel like the darkness when we’re together.” Sliding my hand from her jaw to around her neck, I leaned to the side and lowered her back to the loveseat. “Tell me you feel it too.”

  Her breathing shuddered. “I feel it.”

  A heady combination of relief and excitement blasted through me.

  She gasped as I followed her down and pressed my lips to her neck. “Oh God,” she breathed, threading her fingers into the top of my hair.

  I teased my fingers at the waistband of her jeans and trailed my lips to her collarbone. “Any more confessions, Charlotte?” I asked, pushing her shirt up to just below her bra, my hand gliding up the soft skin of her stomach.

  I silently cursed the absence of light; she felt fucking beautiful.

  “No more confessions,” she moaned.

  I found her satin-covered breast and rolled my thumb over her peaked nipple, and I said, “Good. Then we’re done talking.”

  Surging up, I took her mouth in a desperate kiss. Her lips opened, inviting me in, and our tongues tangled with greed. A growl rumbled in my throat as she arched up, her soft curves molding around my hard planes.

  Never separating our mouths, I planted a knee between her legs on the couch and she shimmied down so the heat of her core pressed against my thigh.

  “Fuck,” I groaned into her mouth as she circled her hips.

  “Please, Porter,” she said in a husky voice.

  I felt every single consonant and vowel of her plea deep inside my soul. She didn’t need to beg. Not now. Not ever. If she wanted anything, I was going to give it to her.

  While balancing on a hand on the armrest next to her head, I snaked my other behind her to unhook her bra. Her mouth went to my neck, and her hands never stopped roaming my chest and my back even as she sat up an inch to allow me more space. After fumbling through three tries on the goddamn Fort Knox of bras, I gave up. With hurried movements, I wedged my hand under her hips and jerked her into the sitting position. Then my hands went to the hem of her wet shirt and stripped it over her head. Her bra followed in the same fashion.

  I cursed, blindly patting her body down in search of the button on her jeans. It took me approximately ten seconds—and ten seconds too long—to get those off. Her panties hit the floor right behind them.

  And then it was my turn.

  After catching my shirt at the back of my neck, I tugged it over my head while she went to work with frenzied fingers on my pants. I stood as she struggled to shove them down my thighs, a loud groan rumbling in my chest as her hands purposefully brushed over my shaft.

  “Fuck, baby,” I mumbled, rolling her nipple in my fingers as I toed my shoes off and stepped out of my jeans. “Lean back.”

  With my hand still at her breast, I felt her obey.

  I bent, following her forward, and skimmed a finger up her core. Fuck me. She was primed.

  “Porter,” she breathed, spreading her legs wide, her gentle hands going to my abs as she teetered on the edge of the cushion. That tiny-ass couch wasn’t going to work for all the things I wanted to do to her.

  Vowing to redecorate my office with a fucking full-size pullout sofa the very next day, I caught her around the waist and lifted her off the loveseat.

  She squeaked as I turned and mentally reviewed the horizontal surfaces in my office.

  “Fuck,” I growled.

  “Baby,” she purred, circling her arms around my neck as her feet dangled off the hardwood.

  “I got a floor and a desk, Charlotte,” I announced.

  I felt the smile on her lips as she kissed me, long and wet.

  “What’s it going to be?” I clipped, putting her back on her feet without releasing her.

  My hard cock twitched between us, and she glided a delicate hand down my stomach until she brushed the sensitive crown. “Sit down, Porter.”

  “Char—”

  “Sit,” she ordered.

  I arched an incredulous eyebrow at her demand before realizing she couldn’t see it.

  After that…I sat my ass down.

  She climbed into my lap, getting into the same position we’d been in when this whole thing had started, only now we were naked and my length was sliding against her slit without ever entering her.

  I dropped my head back against the couch as she started a torturous rhythm over me. I gripped her ass, kneading as I urged her down.

  After laving her tongue up to my ear, she sucked on my lobe. Then she whispered, “I missed you, too.” Her breath hitched before she added, “So much.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and my arms tensed around her. Wrapping her up tight, I forced her breasts flat against my chest, and then she blessedly tipped her hips, giving me the access I was desperately searching for.

  I entered her on a slow thrust.

  “Yes,” she hissed, her body stretching around me and hugging my shaft so fucking tight.

  Our bodies rolled together as she rode me slow and deep, her fingernails biting into my neck as our moans and groans echoed around the room.

  Her teeth nipped. My tongue soothed. Her hands explored every hard curve of my torso, while my hands memorized her soft breasts and her clit.

  “Porter,” she moaned into my mouth. And then against my neck. And then it became strangled as her muscles clutched my cock as I thrust up hard and rough, forcing her over the edge.

  As she pulsed her release around me, her head thrown back, her hair brushing the top of my hand splayed across her back, I could honestly say that it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen—and I couldn’t even see it.

  The never-ending roaring in my ears suddenly went silent as she sagged against me, surrendering her sated body to me and igniting me in ways I had never known possible.

  She clung to my neck as I drove into her, harder every time.

  “Charlotte,” I rasped, burying my face in her neck as my release leveled me.

  With the exception of our labored breathing and racing hearts, the room fell silent.

 
; I’d promised her a pretty specific kiss. And, by the time we were done, I knew for a fact her lips were swollen and bruised, and I had etched her taste into every cell of my gray matter.

  I also knew there wasn’t one fucking thing I wouldn’t do to keep her.

  * * *

  Languid and naked, I was sitting in his lap as his thick cock began to soften inside me. When I’d driven myself to The Porterhouse, desperate for him to stop the world for me, that wasn’t at all how I’d thought my night would end. Though, with his arms wrapped protectively around me, his large body flush with mine, his warmth engulfing me even as a chill pebbled my skin, I had not one regret.

  He kissed the side of my face and gave me a tight squeeze. “I didn’t use a condom.”

  I tucked my arms between us and wiggled in closer. “I’m on birth control.”

  “Good,” he breathed before kissing me again.

  And then Porter did what Porter did best. He made things so charmingly awkward that I couldn’t help but feel at ease.

  “Just so you know, I’ve never had sex on this couch before.” He paused. “And, honestly, I have no idea why I felt the need to tell you that. But it somehow seemed imperative.”

  My heart grew at least two sizes in my chest, and not because I was gleeful about the news that I’d been the one to properly christen his couch. But rather because a loud laugh sprang from my throat—the kind that floods you with endorphins to the point of hysterics. And that was exactly what happened as I fell to the side, waves of laughter overtaking me.

  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.