by Lili Valente
“There are a lot of jerks out there.”
Carrie’s lips curve a little as she nods. “There are. And Renee fell in love with every one of them. Then she met Gary. He was a professor at a prestigious university, loved theater and live music like she did, and never made her pay for dinner or feel bad about our shitty little apartment. When Emma went to college, Mom and I moved into a smaller place so Renee could save up to help Emma pay for grad school. It was a dump, but Gary didn’t look down on her for it. He helped her patch up the dents in the walls, paint the place, install some new cabinets, and in a few months, he had it looking downright swanky. He even hung fairy lights in my room for me so I could pretend I was going to sleep under the stars.”
“Sounds good so far,” I say cautiously. I can already tell this story isn’t going to end well, however. I can feel it in the tension making her slim back feel like marble beneath my fingers.
“Yeah, he was pretty great.” She sighs. “He also liked kids—had two of his own and wished he’d had more with his ex-wife, he said. I was fifteen, but I looked eleven or twelve. Thirteen on a good day, when I wore my shit-kicker boots and my eyeliner wasn’t too smeared. Gary treated me like a much younger kid—bringing me candy and cartoon DVDs, shit like that—but I didn’t mind. It was nice to have a father figure type person pay attention to me. I pretended to be this jaded badass at school and with my mom, but I missed my dad. It hurt that he was more interested in whatever crazy project he was working on at the moment than Emma or me.”
“I get it,” I say, squeezing her shoulder. “You know I do. It doesn’t matter how old you are, it hurts when a parent leaves.”
She nods, snuggling closer to my chest, making me feel even more protective. Making me hope like hell this story doesn’t end the way I think it’s headed. But I’m a realist, and I know a woman like Carrie isn’t trying to disappear into my ribcage because she had a nice older friend who made her feel loved when she needed it.
“So I didn’t discourage him when he tickled me or teased me,” she says softly. “I liked it when we’d watch movies on the couch, with my mom under one of his arms and me under the other. And the first time he hugged me and it went on a little too long, I thought I was imagining things.”
My jaw locks, and the hand not smoothing up and down Carrie’s back balls into a fist, but I don’t say anything. I don’t want to interrupt her or make it any harder for her to get to the end of this. Once you start a dark story, you have to get to the end. If you don’t, you leave the story buried inside you, where no light can touch it or break its darkness into smaller pieces.
“But then he did it again. And again.” She pauses, swallowing with an audible gulp. “Then he touched me through my clothes in places he shouldn’t have touched me, and I knew the next time it happened he would take it farther. As soon as he left that day, I went to my mom and told her what was happening.”
“Tell me she was there for you,” I say softly. “Or I’m not sure Renee and I are going to be able to get along.”
“She believed me right away,” Carrie says, allowing some of the tension to seep from my shoulders. “She broke it off with him and took me to counseling. She would have taken it to the police, but I begged her not to. I was too embarrassed. I didn’t want anyone to know that a guy old enough to be my dad had been the first person to feel me up.”
I wrap both arms around her, hugging her tight, grateful when she returns the embrace, taking the comfort I so much want to give.
“But things were shitty between my mom and me after that,” she continues, pulling out of my arms and brushing her hair from her face. “She never said anything flat out, but it seemed like she resented me for taking away the only person who’d made her happy in so long. Back then, I thought she blamed me for what happened, like I’d asked for it by wearing skimpy pajamas around the house or something.”
“You didn’t ask for anything. You were a kid. He was a grown-up and a creep.”
She nods, gaze fixed on the hands fisted in her lap. “I know that now. And I know my mom was probably just sad and mad, not sad or mad at me. But at the time I was just so angry and hurt.” She lets out a soft laugh. “I made her life hell and gave new meaning to the rebellious teenager cliché. It’s a miracle I made it out of high school alive. I did so much stupid stuff, and I know there were times when Renee wanted to strangle me with her bare hands.”
I rest a hand on her knee. “You were a kid in pain. People in pain do stupid shit, but kids in pain are really dumb. They can’t help it. They’re not emotionally equipped to deal. I remember. It’s why I cut my nephews more slack than Dylan does. Being a teenager is a fucking nightmare, even if everything is going mostly okay, let alone after something like what that man did to you.”
“Thanks.” Her lips curve before settling back into softness. “So that’s the story of my mom and me. It gets better, it gets worse, but we’ve never been really close since then. At this point, I don’t know that we ever will be. Especially not as long as I keep giving her things to disapprove of.”
“Like dating me,” I say, pushing on before she can confirm my hunch. “Well, too bad, Renee. I don’t give a fuck what she thinks, and it’s going to take a lot more than a disapproving parent to scare me away.”
Carrie’s grin finds its legs this time. “Yeah? Like what? Finding out I secretly hate motorcycles?”
I pause, brows lifting. “Do you hate motorcycles?”
She laughs. “No, I don’t. I love riding with you. I just wanted to see what kind of face you’d make.” Her grin is positively wicked. “It was as entertaining as I’d hoped.”
I narrow my gaze. “I live to entertain, but no, learning you didn’t like riding with me wouldn’t scare me away. I’d probably just break down and buy the Cadillac. Cal’s been tempting me with it for years, but I keep waiting for him to drop the price.” I brush her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as the cool breeze does its best to blow it back again. “But for you, Trouble, I would pay a couple grand over Blue Book.”
“Be still my heart.” She presses a dramatic hand to her chest, but I can tell she’s touched. Mocking tone or not, a part of her means it, and a part of me is already figuring out how soon I can buy that car. I want to see Carrie’s face when I tell her it’s mine and we can bang in the backseat whenever we like.
But for now, we need a bed, and I can’t wait to get her to mine.
“Get out of here?” I ask.
“Yes, please,” she says, slipping her hand into mine. “I know we talked about catching a movie, but I’d really rather go get naked with you. If that’s okay.”
I nod solemnly. “It’s very okay. The okay-est.”
She grins. “I like you when you’re all relaxed and sweet and letting me in.”
“Yeah, well…” I shrug. “I’m pretty likable. Lick-able, too. All freshly showered and ready for your inspection.”
Carrie’s eyes narrow. “Did you put on the aftershave that tastes like honey and pine needles?”
“I did.”
She squeezes my fingers as she stands, jumping off the bench. “Then let’s go, psycho. I have licking to do.”
We race each other up the riverside beach, and I let her win so I can watch her ass wiggle inside her jeans. And yes, I’m dying to get back home and get her clothes off, but I also relish every second of the ride home with her arms wrapped tight around me and her cheek resting on my shoulder. I love being close to her, in all different ways, and I just want to keep getting closer.
I’m falling so hard I don’t think I could stop if I tried. Good thing I don’t want to stop. I want to go and keep going until we see how far down this love road we can get.
Chapter 21
Carrie
All the way home, all I can think of is kissing him. Not throwing him on his bed and ravaging him, not fucking like orgasm-starved savages until we’re both boneless and spent.
Just…kissing.
His mouth on mine, his hands on my face, my fingers in his hair, our lips confessing with a touch all the things they’re too afraid to speak out loud.
Things like…you’re special. You’re the person I didn’t think I would ever find. You’re my unicorn sighting, my portal at the back of the wardrobe. You are all the magical things I didn’t believe existed, but better, because you’re real.
And you’re mine.
Or close to being mine. Closer than anyone has been in a long, long time.
After Rafe shuts off the engine, neither of us says a word. We simply melt into each other. We kiss up the stairs to his apartment and through the darkened living room to his bedroom door, where he sweeps me into his arms.
“I’ve never been carried to bed before,” I whisper.
“What kind of losers have you been dating, woman?”
“The skinny, artistic kind who don’t weigh much more than I do.”
He smiles as he kisses me, making our teeth bump together through our lips. “Good. I like knowing I can kick your exes’ asses if needed.”
“Not needed,” I say as he lays me down on his soft quilt, sending a shiver of anticipation dancing across my skin. “They’re mostly friends now. Or glad to be rid of me. Or both.”
“Idiots.” Rafe slowly, deliberately lengthens himself on top of me, nudging my thighs apart so he can settle between them, making my nerve endings hum. “But their loss is my gain. Is it cheesy to admit that I’m pretty fucking excited about you being my girl?”
“No.” I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips, chest going tight. “It’s sweet, and I love it.”
And I think I could love you. Maybe a part of me already does, I add silently because I know it’s too soon.
Way too soon.
But it’s true. This isn’t infatuation or a rebound or a fling, and it doesn’t matter that we’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks. I’ve dated men for months and never felt as close to them as I do to Rafe right now, with him holding my gaze as he rocks against me through our clothes, letting me feel how much he wants me.
My lips part in a gasp and his eyes darken, but neither of us looks away.
“I could come just from this,” he says, grinding against me with long, languid thrusts. “That’s how hot you get me, Caroline.”
“Me, too.” I lift my hips to meet his, a heavy ache spreading through my core. “I’m already so close.”
“Don’t come,” he says in a commanding tone that makes my breath catch. “Not until I tell you to. Can you do that for me, Trouble?”
I arch a brow. “You want to be the boss tonight?”
“I want to steer,” he says in a husky voice. “I want to know you trust me to take you to the edge. Do you trust me that much, baby?”
I nod, heart slamming against my ribs even as uneasiness flutters through my chest. “But what if I can’t stop myself? Seriously, I’m so close I can taste how good it’s going to feel.”
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” He reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his sculpted chest with the dusting of dark hair and that sexy full-sleeve tattoo that has become one of my favorite sights in the world. “Now take off your shirt and your bra,” he orders softly. “I want to play with your nipples while I fuck your pussy with my mouth.”
“Oh, well, that’ll make it easy not to come,” I huff as I roll my eyes, but I’m already tugging his fleece and my tee over my head and reaching for the clasp on my bra.
“Beautiful. Now touch yourself,” Rafe murmurs as he disposes of my jeans and panties and scoots lower on the bed, his fingers curling around my thighs, spreading them wider.
The sight of his darker, utterly masculine hands against my softer, paler skin is so erotic my nipples are already tingling, even before I cup my breasts in my palms and brush my fingers across the sensitized tips. I suck in a gasp at the same moment Rafe groans.
“Yes, just like that.” He presses a reverent kiss to my thigh before shifting his gaze back to my breasts. “Now roll them for me. Make them tighter.”
I obey, and he rewards me with a kiss between my legs, where I’m already hot and getting hotter with every passing second. And then his tongue finds my clit, circling me with a slow, insistent rhythm that would take me over the edge in a heartbeat if I let it.
“Please,” I beg, fingers stilling as I fight the heaviness tugging sharply between my hips, demanding I come apart beneath his mouth. “I can’t.”
“You can,” he insists, plunging his tongue deep inside me, making my pussy clench. “Keep going, Trouble. Do what I tell you to do, and I’m going to make you come like you’ve never come before.”
Holding his gaze, I force my hands back to my breasts. After a beat, he resumes his work, staring deep into my eyes as he fucks me with his mouth, and it is by far the most intimate thing that’s ever happened to me in bed. Even more intense than our sex by the beach, when every touch, every kiss carried the message that he wanted more than fucking, more than casual, making me dare to think it was okay for me to want it, too.
He brings me to the edge, again and again, taking me so close I’m gasping for breath and trembling, certain I’m going to lose control. But each time, he eases away seconds before I tumble over, leaving me lost and aching and strung so tight it feels like I’m going to spontaneously combust.
By the time he finally surges over me, claiming my mouth as he guides his cock to my entrance, I’m sobbing with relief and shaking all over. And when he whispers, “Now,” into my ear as he drives inside me, I ignite.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, arch my back, and come with an intensity that’s blinding. I forget who I am, where I am, what I am, only returning to my body as he brings me over again, seconds before his own release.
“Oh yes, yes,” I gasp as I lock my ankles behind his ass, holding him close as he comes inside me, his pleasure making mine even sweeter.
Long moments later, he rolls onto his back, drawing me with him until I’m splayed on top of him like a very limp, sated piece of sushi atop a dollop of rice. “Damn, woman, you’re beautiful. I love fucking you so much.”
I hum in agreement and smile, too wasted to make rational conversation. Maybe too wasted to do anything but sleep for the foreseeable future…
I’m nearly out, floating into rosy, warm oblivion when Rafe says, “I’ve been thinking about your ex.”
“Hmmm…why would you do that?” I ask, my words slurred with exhaustion. “Don’t think about him. He’s the worst.”
“He is, and that’s why he needs to get out of your life and stay out.” He skims his fingertips down my spine to the curve of my ass. “Do you think you could get him to meet you somewhere? Pretend you want to talk things through, get his guard down, get him talking?”
Suddenly wide awake, I lift my head, propping my arms on his chest and resting my chin on top. “I probably could. What are you thinking? Because beating the crap out of him is not an option, no matter how much I would like to smack him around a little. I haven’t done anything wrong yet, and I don’t want to start. I don’t believe in using physical violence unless there’s literally no other way to ensure your own personal safety.”
“No, of course not,” Rafe agrees. “I’m not a complete Cro-Magnon person, you know. I have layers.”
I grin, threading my fingers through his crisp chest hair. “Yes, you do. And I wouldn’t say you were a Cro-Magnon at all. I just understand that Jordan inspires insanity in otherwise reasonable people.”
“But he’s the crazy one,” Rafe says, brushing my hair over my shoulder. “Either crazy or a compulsive liar. Either way, he’s bound to contradict himself on tape. You make him feel comfortable enough, he might even confess why he staged this attack on you in the first place.”
Nibbling my lip, I ask, “But any video I obtained like that wouldn’t stand up in court, would it? Something I sneakily recorded without his knowledge?�
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“I’m not sure, but you don’t need it to stand up in court, you just need to turn the tide, introduce enough doubt into people’s minds that they stop cancelling your speaking engagements and keep buying your books.”
I blink, thoughts racing. “And if I introduce enough doubt, Jordan might decide this isn’t worth his time or effort and move on to his next evil scheme, hopefully with his reputation sufficiently damaged to make it harder for him to do this to someone else.”
His lips curve as he studies me in the dim light, staying silent for so long I start to feel twitchy. “What?” I ask, nose wrinkling. “You’re staring at me.”
“You’re nice to stare at. And I like that you want to keep this from happening to someone else. You’re a softer touch than you let on, Trouble.”
“Yeah, well don’t tell anyone,” I grumble. “Usually only family gets the soft stuff.”
His smile drops away, replaced by an expression so intense it makes it hard to breathe. “Thanks for telling me the things you did. For letting me in.”
“Ditto.” I lean in to press a kiss to his lips before pulling back to gaze into his soft eyes with a smile. “Now tell me more about this scheme of yours. When and where, and am I wearing a wire because I’ve always wanted to wear a wire.”
He scoffs. “They make cameras smaller than the tip of your pinkie finger these days, Haverford. Get with the times.”
“No, I refuse,” I say, grinning. “There’s a reason I don’t have a smartphone and stay off the Internet as much as possible. The times are exhausting. That’s why technology doesn’t work in any of my books. It is the enemy.”
“Not this time.” He rolls me beneath him as he kisses my neck. “This time it’s going to be your friend.”
He starts to detail his plan, but soon one kiss becomes two, and then three, and then he’s moving inside me again, making me see stars brighter than anything visible in the sky. Afterward, we grab water in the kitchen and start the oven to warm up a frozen pizza, sleep banished by sex and scheming.
