by K. Webster
I wink at her and set it on the floor beside me, careful to lean it up against the sofa. Then I grab her hands and pull her into my lap. She straddles me and attacks me with a sloppy kiss.
“It hasn’t been four minutes yet,” Harley complains as we make out in front of him.
I flip him off and stand with my wife in my arms. Without tossing him a backwards glance, I carry her up to our room so I can have my very wicked way with her.
All.
Night.
Long.
MY LIP WOBBLES as we say our final goodbyes to Harley and Louise. The day has eventually arrived for us to head back home. I’m not even sure that our Vancouver loft is home anymore. It certainly doesn’t feel like it.
As I slide into the passenger’s seat of the rental car, I chew on my lip in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. I feel a sense of foreboding—like now is the calm before the proverbial storm. We’ve been through enough damn storms though. I’m ready for peace.
“Ready?” Bentley asks with a half-cocked grin that would normally have me climbing into his lap and letting him swallow my tongue. His face is thick with hair now, and I can’t help but admire how traces of grey here and there are growing in. It makes him look ruggedly handsome.
“Yep,” I squeak out and force a stiff smile.
His brows furrow as he takes my hand in his. After bringing it to his lips, his kisses the top of it.
“Care, what’s wrong?”
My eyes shine with tears, but I laugh them away. “Nothing. Feeling emotional is all. I’m due for my period soon and I’m just a little hormonal.”
His gaze firmly holds me in place as he attempts to understand what’s going on inside my mind. Thankfully, he can’t get into my mess of a head. After several moments of trying, he nods and puts the car in gear.
We ride for some time in peaceful silence, our hands interlocked over the center console. Every so often, he squeezes my hand, letting me know he’s thinking about me. Each time, it reinforces that everything will be okay.
The roads have been cleared, which makes our drive an easy one. So I’m confused when he slows down. When he parks and looks over at me with a playful smile, I can’t help but give him a genuine one back.
“Why are we stopping?” I question.
He grabs his phone from the charger, and for a brief moment, I fear I’ll be sick, assuming he’s going to dive right back into work. Instead, he pockets it and steps out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.
Within seconds, my car door is opened and he offers me his hand. I take it and allow him to pull me out of the car. Everything from the road is still blanketed with snow aside, and I wish I knew how to use my damn camera because I’d definitely take some pictures of the beautiful surroundings.
When we reach a road sign, Bentley stands on his toes and swipes the snow away so we can read it.
Us.
Our road.
He flashes me a grin that melts me to my very core. My husband, the spontaneous man I married, is here to stay. After plucking the phone from his pocket, he then turns the camera on reverse so he can take a picture of us.
“Say, ‘Bentley is a fine piece of ass’,” he laughs as he aims the camera at us, careful to get the sign in the background.
“Cheese,” I tease and stick out my tongue.
The camera flashes and we laugh. It takes a few more tries before we’re satisfied with one we really like. Once he’s pocketed the phone, he scoops up a handful of snow and balls it into in his fist.
“Want to have a snowball fight?” he taunts. His wicked eyes dance with amusement.
I am not amused. “Are you insane? I’ve seen enough snow in this lifetime. I’m not at all interested in—”
A blast of icy snow knocks me in my chest, effectively interrupting me.
“You asshole!” I hiss. “It’s on now!”
The next half hour is spent chasing each other, each of us trying to get the upper hand. It isn’t until Bentley tackles me in the snow bank and kisses me hard enough and with enough heat to melt all the snow in this godforsaken country that I relax. We kiss, ignoring the way the cold chills our extremities, until a horn honks.
Bentley lifts his head up and regards the concerned driver.
“You okay, young lady?” the old man hollers at me.
I burst into a fit of giggles and wave at him. “I’ve never been better!”
The old man practically peels out to leave us two crazy lovebirds alone.
“Never been better, huh?” Bentley questions before he nips at my lip with his teeth. “I bet I could make you feel better in the back seat of the car.”
And boy, does he ever.
Fear has gripped me all weekend long. Tomorrow morning, Bentley goes back to work. We’ve put it off for as long as we could, but he gently reminded me that he needed to go back if we wanted to keep having a roof over our heads.
Maybe I don’t want this roof. Maybe I want the roof of a certain hunting cabin instead. Surely those things are cheap.
I’ve been sort of pouting ever since.
When I emerge from our bathroom, Bentley is sitting on the end of his bed, scrolling through his phone, in a pair of black boxer briefs. The scene causes my heart to drop. Suddenly, I feel too underdressed. Completely nude. We’ve remained practically naked the entire time we’ve been home, and now, he’s dressed. For bed.
“What are you doing?” I question as I make my way over to my dresser to hunt for a nightgown.
All I get is a, “Hmm,” as he taps away on the device.
Tears well in my eyes, and I choke back a sob. Turning my back to him, I take my time digging through my drawers in an attempt to compose myself.
“I’m catching up on the important e-mails before tomorrow,” he says absently.
Work.
It’s always work.
“Oh.”
A tear rolls out, and then the bed squeaks. I hear the padding of footsteps behind me before his warm arms encircle my waist.
“The question is, what are you doing?” he asks as he tugs the silky nightgown out of my hands and drops it back into the drawer.
I close my eyes and sink back against his chest. “You were dressed and I thought . . .”
His hands skitter over the flesh of my belly before they split, one going north to my breasts and the other south to my pussy.
“You thought wrong, Care.”
As his finger works my clit, I drop my head back against his shoulder. His cock is thick and bulging from his boxers as it pokes me in the back.
“You promised,” I whisper as he owns me with one finger.
His lips are on my shoulder, and he kisses my flesh reverently. “And you promised you’d keep fighting.”
I nod.
He keeps stroking.
“And, Care Bear, were you fighting or were you waving the silky, white flag of defeat?”
My body tightens in anticipation of my orgasm. A flush creeps up my chest as I get nearer and nearer. “Defeat.”
He suckles my neck and increases the pressure between my legs. “We’re Mr. and Mrs. Harrison. We survived the fucking cold-ass wilderness and came out stronger for it. We. Don’t. Give. Up.”
I moan out in agreement as I lose myself to the orgasm. When I nearly collapse in his arms, he scoops me up and strides us over to the bed. The offending boxers are gone, and seconds later, he’s here.
Inside me.
On top of me.
Owning every inch of me.
“Yes,” I murmur as he drives into me.
Our lips are a clash of teeth and tongues, each of us desperately fighting for the other. With each thrust into me, he pushes me farther and farther off the side of the bed until my head is hanging over the edge. We break our kiss when my head falls back and I bare my throat to him.
He slips his palm to my neck and runs his thumb across the flesh. We’ve been dabbling more and more into wilder territories lately. And right now? Rig
ht now, I want him to squeeze me there. I slide my hand over his and push down. My husband doesn’t hesitate, because it’s as if we’re always on the same sexual page. He clamps down enough to labor my breathing, and a surge of excitement pulsates through my body.
“More,” I rasp out as he fucks me, going harder and faster now.
His grip is firm but not harsh. My nerve endings are on fire and my lungs are protesting, but my pelvis aches. I’m dripping with my arousal to the point where he slips right out, but he slams back in.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful and perfect, Care,” he growls.
I whimper, and when he starts to release my neck, I shake my head. “Don’t stop.”
He grunts and cusses and drips sweat on me. All the while, I dance closer and closer to an orgasm that I know will be worth the wait. The moment a wave of blackness washes over me, I come.
“Bentley!” I rasp out, my words a garbled mess.
His grip is gone and his lips are kissing the tender flesh until he freezes up and spills his own climax into me.
“My fucking God,” he groans after he thrusts the last bit inside.
I’m in a dazed, orgasmic haze, still shuddering from the overload of pleasure. He scoots an arm under me and pulls me back onto the bed.
“That was amazing,” I praise.
He flashes me a sweet smile before capturing my lips. “You’re amazing, Care Bear. Every time with you is pure fucking bliss. I love you.”
As his mouth kisses a trail down my body, I chant over and over that I, in fact, love him too.
Very much so.
Once we’re completely sated and curled up in each other’s arms, I attempt to give voice to my fears.
“What happens when your job sucks you back in?”
He sighs—but not in annoyance. There’s a hint of worry in his voice. “We’re not going to let it. I’ll leave the office every day at five and not touch my work on evenings and weekends. It will be a normal job now, not an obsession.”
I want to believe him. I truly do. “I’m scared, B. I don’t want to lose what we have. We’ve finally found our happy ending, and I can’t stop the horrible ache deep within me that says it will all be taken away from us.”
He kisses my forehead and tugs me flush against him. His warmth radiates through me and touches my soul.
“We have to believe in us, Care Bear.”
I let his words wash over me. I do believe in us. After all, we’ve come so far—persevered through the worst of times.
He runs his fingers through my hair while I scrape my nails in a gentle way along his shoulder.
We can do this.
I believe we can, and so does he.
Together, our love can conquer anything.
I hope.
I’M FUCKING ANXIOUS.
And not in a good way.
The very thought of leaving her while I run off to work has me feeling like I want to fucking puke. She’s too vulnerable. Hell, I’m too vulnerable. But loose ends need to be tied up. Today, I’ll give them my notice. If I didn’t have such respect for the partners at the firm and my other coworkers, I’d have quit over the phone the moment we rolled into Mom’s after we had been rescued.
But I do have respect, which means I need to do the right thing.
I stare at my reflection in our bathroom mirror. I’ve become a mountain man like my brother. There’s a wild, uncivilized glint in my eye that never existed before—a glint that says that no city will ever tame me. I’ll only thrive when I’m free to do whatever the hell I want. On my land. With my woman.
I scratch at my beard. It’s thickened up quite nicely, and I’m almost tempted to keep it. I know that Care likes it, but it will only bring on a thousand fucking questions I don’t feel like dealing with at work. For now, it has to go.
The bed squeaks for a moment and I pause, wondering if she’s woken up. I wanted to be able to leave early to beat everyone to the office. If I am there before they get there, I’ll have less bullshit to listen to. I’m ready to filter through my accounts and pass all the good ones to James.
She doesn’t wake, so I open the drawer and pull the scissors out. I clip away at my face hair until I’ve thinned it out enough to shave properly. Once I finally cut it all off, I rinse my cheeks and check out my appearance.
The wild glint in my eye remains, and the scarring on my cheek from the accident is red and angry, which kind of makes me look like a badass, but I’ve been reduced to appearing like a normal financier. I sigh and head for my closet. Once I’m dressed in the restrictive suit, I make my way back into the bathroom to see the final result.
Harrison, the investment banker.
I look like a fucking asshole.
No wonder Caroline hated my job.
Shaking my head in disgust, I stalk out of the bathroom, making a mental note to call my attorney. When I called him last week, I asked him to check into a property I was interested in and offer them whatever they wanted for it. I’m eager to know the outcome.
“You’re leaving already?”
I walk over to Caroline’s side of the bed and sit next to her. “Yeah, baby. It’s time.” The disappointment is thick in my voice, nearly matching hers.
“Have a wonderful day, honey,” she murmurs and squeezes my hand.
Dipping down, I brush a kiss across her lips. “It would be better if I could stay here.”
She strokes my smooth cheek with her free hand. I flinch because I know she hates it. Instead of waiting for the words I know are coming, I smash her lips with mine and kiss her hard. When I break free and stand, she calls out to me.
“Could I meet you for lunch?”
I grin at her. “Baby, I think that will be the highlight of my workday.”
She flashes me a pleased smile, and I memorize her face as I stride away from her and toward hell.
Today has been a fucking shitty-ass day.
I’m in a grumpy, pissed-off mood because I’ve put out fire after goddamned fire. The partners were extremely unhappy about my decision to leave the company but assured me that, if I ever have the desire to come back, there would be a place for me. While I had them in there, I mentioned to them about Ginny and her texts. I urged them to terminate her, but when they asked for the proof and I discovered they had been deleted, they informed me that there would never be a solid case against her. I was asked to bide my time and ignore the situation since I was leaving anyway.
“How were her nipples? Bite-sized? More than a mouthful?” James teases, interrupting our work.
“I don’t know, dickhead. I didn’t look. Remember, my wife saw them,” I grumble. “If those texts had managed to ruin things between Caroline and me, I’d have been a lot more forceful in my demand for them to fire her skank ass.”
He smirks. “You get all the hot chicks. Nobody wants my balding ass.”
Rolling my eyes, I sling a file across my desk toward him. “Get some Rogaine. Women want some hair to grip on to. Hair equals chicks. Simple,” I laugh.
Speaking of women . . .
A fucking beautiful blonde peeks her head in my door and flashes me a grin that drips with sex.
God, now that’s one I’d like to fuck right over my desk.
“Time to leave, James. I have a meeting,” I bark out.
He stands and chuckles all the way out the door. Meanwhile, I bounce out of my chair and prowl over to her. This woman has taken her time curling her hair into sexy waves. Her makeup is done up dramatically, emphasizing her full, pink lips. And her black dress hugs her curves that just beg to be held.
She saunters in and winks at me as she sets her purse down in a chair. I storm past her and slam the door shut, turning the lock in place.
“God, it’s been so long,” I growl as I snag her hand and pull her to me.
Stumbling in her heels, she falls right into my arms. I slide a palm up her neck and into her hair. One tug is all it takes to draw a moan from her. In an instant, my mouth i
s on hers. Devouring her. Tasting her.
She’s fucking divine.
Her fingers are in my hair and my hands are all over her body as we kiss.
It’s been forever since I’ve kissed this woman.
Or so it seems.
“Bentley,” she murmurs between kisses, “I want you so badly, but we can’t do this right now.”
My hand is creeping up her thighs, and I’ve almost reached her pussy with my thumb when her words cause me pause. “For the love of all that’s holy, why not?”
She pouts and looks over her shoulder toward the door before turning back to me. A wicked expression passes over her features. “Because we’ll get caught,” she purrs. “I thought your wife was meeting you for lunch.”
My cock thickens in my pants, and I’m seconds from fucking her against the wall of my office. “My wife. Hmmm,” I murmur as I steal her lips again. “My wife is pretty fucking amazing, but I really want to push you over my desk and take you from behind in this dress. I’m sure my wife can wait for lunch.”
I don’t wait for a response, dragging her over to my desk. Before bending over it, she licks her lips. I’m about to come from looking at the beautiful sight before me. Sliding behind her, I roughly push her dress up and curse when I see that she’s bare underneath.
“So fucking naughty,” I hiss between clenched teeth. I pop her ass and grin when she whimpers. “I bet you’re dripping wet for me, baby.”
She nods that she is, but I have to be sure. I palm her ass before slipping my hand between her legs. My finger dips into her pussy, and I discover that she is more than ready for me. In a slow, unrushed way, I bring my finger in and out of her, teasing her. She keeps poking her ass toward me as if to hint that she wants more.
“What is it, baby? Need something?”
“Fuck me. Hurry,” she begs.
She doesn’t have to tell me twice, because within seconds, I have my dick out and am ready to slam into her. A thought occurs to me that we might be overheard, so as I slowly enter her, I find her mouth with my hand and cover it.
