by CORY CYR
We arrive at my condo half an hour later and a melancholy feeling fills me. At the top of the drive, he cuts the motor and reaches over to turn off the radio. I suddenly feel nervous. We sit in silence and I wonder if he really means the things he said before or if this is where the anvil falls. Latch’s expression turns serious as he stares into the driver’s side window.
As if speaking to his reflection, he says, “I need you to understand that I’m in uncharted territory, so cut me some slack if this doesn’t come out like I want it to. What I feel for you Haven . . . well, it’s painful, and my heart aches. I can hardly breathe when you’re not in the room. I know it hasn’t been long. It’s only been a few weeks since we met and we squeezed getting to know each other into one weekend, but I have no doubts— not about you. I’m truly, deeply, crazy, life altering in love with you. I need you to know and believe that you’re the only woman I’ve ever taken home, had in my own bed. You’re it for me. I want you. I want there to be an us.”
I suck in a breath, electrified by the intensity in his words. He’s still not facing me, but his arm reaches out and he unerringly grasps my hand with his.
“If all this scares the shit out of you, then let’s be scared together. I’m not asking you to feel the same right now. I’m just asking you, please, to give us a chance. I know you think the age difference is a major deal, but I would rather be with you right now than go a lifetime without you. Don’t throw us away because you’re afraid of what might happen down the line. Please.” His voice sounds anguished.
He finally turns to me, doing the one act that touches my heart every time—he kisses the inside of my palm and breathes my name. My eyes fill with tears, happy tears, but I blink them back. I’m not used to a man being so genuine and pouring out his heart to me. I fumble with the seat belt so I can slide over to him and reach for his neck to pull him into me. My lips cover his, and I feel like I can’t get close enough. Our tongues twist together and a heavy sigh comes from Latch’s throat. I put my hand in his lap and feel his burgeoning want. I lightly brush my hand along its length. His hand glides through my hair, releasing the band that holds my ponytail. As my hair tumbles down my back, he draws me in closer, pressing his lips to my neck and tracing the tip of his tongue down to my collarbone. If I don’t get out of the car right now, I’m going to straddle him in the front seat of his Shelby and take him for a ride. A smile crosses my lips at the wild thought. Latch pulls back to look at me.
“You find this amusing, do you? Leaving me hot and bothered, twice?” he asks as he looks down at his crotch and tries to adjust the fabric of his shorts to accommodate his erection.
“Mr. McKay, I’m convinced you get a hard-on if the wind blows.” I laugh, reaching behind me to grab my bag.
I push on the car door to get out, but Latch tugs me back in. “Let me walk you to your door,” he says.
He gets out of the car and walks over to my side, opening the door and taking my hand to help me out. We stroll slowly up the entrance path.
“Haven, you haven’t said anything about what I said to you in the car. It didn’t scare you away, did it?”
He takes my bag from me and sets it on the ground. I close the space between us and stand on my toes, and he bends his head down, bringing us almost eye to eye. There’s a palpable intensity arcing between us.
“I can’t lie—I am kind of stunned. I was sure I was just another one of your women. I mean, everything has happened so fast between us. I assumed you just wanted a physical thing, nothing more. This, what we are or have . . . it’s all new to me. I’ve never had this—whatever this is.” I reply as honest as I can.
For a moment, hesitation passes through Latch’s eyes. Maybe he thinks I’m walking away.
“I like you, Latch, a little too much. I can’t promise you anything except that I won’t run. Just give us some time . . . You’ve seen how my emotions can fluctuate. I’m not even sure I’m in a good enough place even to give more to a relationship. You’ll have to be patient. I’m not saying no—I’m just saying not now. Is that okay?”
I twist my hair with my finger, a nervous habit I have whenever I get stressed over something important. Latch’s eyes light up and he appears relieved. I swear I hear him exhale a breath of relief.
“Okay, does being patient include . . . you know, benefits?” he asks awkwardly.
Oh, I plan to make him squirm, just for fun. He’s just too easy to torment.
“I don’t know what you mean, Latch,” I reply as I bat my eyelashes, pretending ignorance.
“Oh, I do think you know what I’m asking,” he banters back.
Latch grabs me around the waist, pulling me close enough that he can force his thigh in between mine. He pushes my legs apart. His cock is hard as he presses it against my core. Even though I feel hot, a cold shiver runs down my body and wetness floods my panties as a whispered cry leaves my mouth. I reach under his shirt, running my hands up to his neck, down his chest and just into his waistband. His flesh feels like warm silk.
“What I meant to ask you is can I still fuck you?” He breathes the word “fuck” into my ear.
I’m so ready, I feel like I can come. I have to physically squeeze my legs together and grit my teeth. I casually push him back, pretending not to be affected, but Latch’s sexy chuckle tells me he knows better.
“Yes . . . sex . . . of course.” I can hardly get my mouth to work I’m so amped up.
Latch grabs my bag, handing it to me and walking me to my front door. I watch him cradle his crotch with his hand while he eyes me carefully.
“I love you, leannán,” he says softly.
I was with Jared for six years and he only verbally told me he loved me one time. After that, he told me he shouldn’t have to say it again—I should just know it.
In this moment, there’s no doubt that Latch truly believes he loves me. I can pretend he doesn’t, that he hasn’t known me long enough, that he doesn’t know real love, but somewhere deep inside I choose to believe him. I’m just not sure if I should be happy or worried. There is no getting around the age difference. If he wants this to be seriously long term, he’ll want marriage and children, and that’s something I can never give him.
I haven’t been in a relationship in seven years. I was sure I would never be in one again—and one with a younger man, hell, that had never crossed my mind. I know Latch has never had any serious relationships. He wasn’t lying when he spoke of being in uncharted territory, and that makes both of us. I spent so much time dwelling on the fact that he would break my heart, it never crossed my mind that I might be the one to fracture his.
Latch presses one more kiss to my lips before he gets back into his car. I watch Latch drive away, and it already feels like I miss him. I need to pull myself together for the workweek ahead of me. Will things will be different now because I have a boyfriend?
Wait, is Latch my boyfriend?
Technically, he is a boy and a friend, so I’m going with boyfriend. I smile like some deranged fool, because I realize now that I do, indeed, have a boyfriend.
Chapter Nineteen
Latch
The way I feel is freaking me out. It’s only been five minutes and I’m having withdrawals from not being with her. Do I really love her? Fuck, I better, since I already blurted out the words, professing my love for her like some teenage boy. I’ve never felt this way about any woman, ever. The woman twists me into knots, but I know I want her. I need her.
I’ve never met anyone like Haven. The way she comes across at times seems like she is so insecure, it’s as if she’s been sheltered from her own emotions. Sexually, she’s like a caterpillar, waiting for me to seduce her from her chrysalis so she can really live as a butterfly. Every aspect of touching her feels experimental. Being inside her is probably the closest I’ve ever been to actually being in heaven. I can barely remember the women before because all I can see is a future with her.
It torments me that I might be in love by
myself. I don’t think she trusts me, and why should she? She doesn’t know me except for the news on the internet and in the tabloids. I have no defense here. I’m a whore. I like to fuck and I’m great at it, but that’s only a slice of me, although a juicy one. I’m also smart, talented and creative. She says I’m pretty and nice. Ugh! Kiss of fucking death, so in retrospect, I’m a talented, creative, nice, pretty whore. If I can just get her to trust me, then maybe she’ll love me. I told her from now on I’m only her womanizing manwhore, no one else’s. I’m sure she thinks that I’ve said that to countless other women, but promising exclusivity and saying, those three words have never passed my lips.
I’m afraid, actually terrified, she’ll find out about the real me. I’m the consummate expert at hiding my secrets and keeping all things hidden. The only person privy to my dark side is Keenan, who, as long as I keep myself in check, will stay silent. Having Keenan know has its price. He’s continuously nagging, threatening and hovering over me. I know Keenan thinks he’s helping me every time he goes into a sermon, but honestly, it drives me closer to the darkness, not away from it.
Forty-eight hours. I went two fucking days without being sucked into the black hole, without quelling my thirst for the high. I can never let Haven see me in that state. She’s a runner. Finding out about the dark me would cause her to run far away from me. I feel her pain, her ache and constant self-doubt. I know she’s broken, but I’m just bent. If she’ll love me, we can mend each other. When she’s with me, I feel whole, solid and indestructible. The only addiction I want is her. Haven extinguishes the pull and I don’t feel so enslaved.
Chapter Twenty
Haven
I open the front door, tossing my bag on the chair.
“Hey, Weeze, you home?” I ask loudly.
Weezie comes around the corner with beer in one hand, cookies in the other.
“So, my BFF left a child and has returned a woman.” Weezie chuckles as she heads for the kitchen.
“Very funny, but I’m pretty sure I was a woman before Latch.” I smirk as Weezie hands me a beer.
“Ah, yes, but now you’ve been thoroughly fucked. You have that just got laid glow.”
I know Weezie is baiting me for information.
“God, Weezie, you love throwing around that f-word,” I say, rolling my eyes.
I twist the cap off my beer as I sit on the sofa.
“What? You can do it, but not say it? FUCK!” Weezie bellows out and laughs as she sits down in the recliner. “So . . . details, lots and lots of details, because I need a good bedtime story so I can have some sweet dreams of my own while I’m using my vibrator.” She grins.
My eyes go wide. I take a sip of my beer, then lean back into the sofa and cross my arms.
“Weezie, you’ve never used a vibrator in your life. And there is no fricking way I’m giving you details, so forget it.” I glare at her, unfolding my arms to take another sip.
“God, you’re moody. I can hardly tell you got laid. You still have so much pent up sexual hostility.” Weezie beams widely this time, flashing me her teeth. She’s in true form today.
I set my beer down, grab my bag and start walking to my bedroom. I’m exhausted. All I want right now is a hot bath and my PJ’s. Well, if I’m honest, I want Latch too. I sigh. It’s only been ten minutes and I already miss him.
As I walk into my room, I turn to shout at Weezie in the living room. “He told me he loves me, you know.”
I hear the bottle of beer slam down on the coffee table and Weezie’s feet slapping the floor as she runs towards my room.
“What did you say? Say it again,” Weezie demands, albeit breathlessly.
I face her as I bend down to unzip my bag. “He told me he is in love with me.” I try to look subdued, but inside I’m overflowing with emotion.
“Latch McKay?” she questions again in disbelief.
“Okay, now you’re just pissing me off, Weeze. What, it’s so hard to believe that a man could love me? Gee, thanks for the support,” I reply angrily, pulling my clothes out of my bag.
Weezie grabs my elbow. “That’s not what I meant. Shit. Did he tell you he loved you before he fucked you?” I can tell by her expression, this isn’t a pleasant question for her to ask. Her face is pained. No matter how many times that word comes out of Weezie’s mouth, it still sounds cold and crude. It’s bad enough when men say it, but I hate when it comes from Weezie.
I shake my finger at her. “Oh ye of little faith . . . after, way after,” I reply with an arrogant tone. “He’s not what you think, Weeze. You’ll be surprised when you get to know him.”
I start towards my bathroom as Weezie moves towards the bedroom door. She stops, then looks at me questioningly. “When I get to know him . . . So, are you two, like, together now?” she wonders.
“What we are is open to interpretation. I did promise him that we could see each other again—basically, we’re going to take this day by day. I don’t know what’s going to happen. All I know is that I do like him. He’s really sweet and we have fun together.” I pause. A tiny smile curves my lips. “I think I might have a boyfriend.”
Weezie stares at me. I know she’s concerned that I’ll get hurt and maybe I will, but at least for now, I need to give this a chance.
“You deserve some happiness. I’m sorry I was acting like a bitchy BFF. I just worry, and I don’t want to see you get hurt. How do you feel about him? Could you love him, Haven?” Weezie looks at me with curiosity.
“No,” I reply flatly, turning the faucet on in the tub.
I can’t fall in love with Latch. It’s too dangerous. I’m too fragile and he’s too unpredictable. I really like him and he’s nice, but trust is something that’s earned, I won’t give it freely. If Latch truly wants me in his life, liking him would have to be enough for now.
“Goodnight, Haven, sweet dreams,” Weezie says, with a look of understanding on her face as she closes my bedroom door.
I step into the hot bath and spend thirty minutes soaking. Once I dry off, I throw on a pair of shorts with one of Latch’s t-shirts, which I had smuggled into my overnight bag. Latch’s scent lingers on it and fills me with warmness and content. I crawl into my bed and try to get some sleep. My phone dings with a text, and a nervous kind of excitement flutters in my belly when I see that it’s from Latch.
Sleep well leannán
I send him a text back.
You too
I close my phone, smiling. I switch off the light, close my eyes, and wait for sleep to take me so I can dream of the man who loves me.
Chapter Twenty-One
If I could whistle, instead of the pathetic rush of air that usually passes through my lips, I would be doing it as I stroll into work. I actually feel confident. I casually walk into my office, tossing my things down on the sofa. I sit at my desk and dig into the day’s work. About two hours later, Denise taps on my door.
“Come on in,” I call out.
Denise walks in with a huge vase of the most beautiful pale pink roses I’ve ever seen. A smile crosses my face while thinking about Latch and my cheeks become warm.
“Do I need to call the rest home for these?” Denise asks smartly.
I stand up, taking the vase from her.
“No, I’ll be keeping these. Thanks,” I reply, grinning while reaching for the card.
Denise stands there for a moment, then turns and exits, closing the door behind her. I quickly open the card.
Pink roses will always remind me of your lips—both pairs.
I start laughing. God, that man can make me blush without even being in the room. My cell phone rings as I lay the card down on my desk. As soon as I flip open my phone, there’s a picture of Latch—sans shirt—with a phone number. He must have programmed it in my phone when I was with him over the weekend. I laugh.
“Yes,” I drawl teasingly.
“Now is that anyway to answer your phone when you know it’s the man of your dreams?” he jokes.
<
br /> “You’re awfully sure of yourself—conceited much?” I ask.
“Oh, I have no doubt that you want me right now,” he whispers into the phone. His voice is sensual and raw.
“Stop that,” I reprimand him, but there’s really no heat behind my words.
“Did you get my flowers?” I can hear the smirk in his voice.
“I’m pretty sure you already know I did. Love the note by the way,” I muse.
“Couldn’t help myself, I really miss those lips,” he pauses, “both pairs.”
I gasp, tugging at my skirt and then at the collar on my blouse. I can’t believe how wanton I feel whenever I hear his voice and the things he says. My need is becoming insatiable.
“Latch, I have to go—I have a lot of work to do.” I need to end this conversation before he initiates any phone sex. I chuckle at the thought of a delicious repeat, and then banish it from my mind. Not now, insatiable woman!
“See you later, leannán?” Latch asks.
“If you want,” I reply nonchalantly.
“I want.”
I snap my phone closed. I touch one of the roses gently. The petals feel delicate and the scent is like expensive perfume. They look lush and sensual, like the man who sent them. I’m enamored with him and I sigh, letting my imagination run away with the moment. Okay, enough idle fantasy, Haven . . . back to reality for you. I snap out of it and pull myself together. I have to work on invoices and placing new orders.
At around one o’clock, I grab my purse with the full intention of getting lunch, hoping Denise hasn’t left yet. There’s a knock on my office door.
“Come in, Denise,” I say without looking up.
I hear a deep clearing of a man’s throat. My entire body recognizes the sound, and the man.
“Hey, baby,” he says, his voice deep, smoky and sexy.
He crosses the room and stands next to the roses. He’s dressed in black jeans that hang low on his hips. His black striped shirt is loosely tucked in, and the sleeves are rolled up to the elbows with the collar open at his throat. The only sign that speaks of affluence is the platinum Rolex on his right wrist. His arms are folded across his chest and he stares at me with hungry eyes. His stature insinuates raw lust and it seems to be saturating the room. I instantly feel a throbbing between my legs and heat flushing my skin.
