Her nails sank into my skin, and she cried out, her hips moving in time with mine. We were a perfect symphony of motion and breathing until she started to tense around my cock and come.
I wanted to hold on until she came again, but the desperation in her tone—followed immediately by a cry of satisfaction—undid me. The whole neighborhood had to hear my groan as I buried my face in her neck and came inside her.
We stayed like that for a minute or so, her nails tracing feather-light up my back. I’d missed this so much—the warmth of our skin pressed together, a sheen of sweat between us.
Her tone was half-sated, half-amused when she said, “I’m not saying we should fight more often, but if this is how we’re gonna make up, I may want to piss you off more often.”
I smiled, lifting my head to kiss her. “Doesn’t take a fight to have amazing sex, babe.”
Her eyes were misty as she said, “I know, but that was . . . more for me. The feelings.”
“For me, too.” I kissed her again. “But let’s find a way to get there without fighting, all right?”
“Yeah.” She smiled, running her hand from my neck into my hair.
It took all my strength to move away from her and sit up. I met her eyes, forcing myself not to look at her body, because it would distract me from the conversation we needed to have.
“Tell me what happened with Dean,” I said. “I promise not to get pissed. I just need to know.”
After a beat of silence, she said, “He sent the cookies and a fruity drink up to my floor with a note. He says he wants another chance.”
“What about Amanda?”
Joss cringed. “I know. She blames me, but honestly, I’ve done nothing to encourage him. I’ve told him no.”
“And he keeps pursuing you?” My skin prickled with anger. There was nothing that got me going like men who didn’t listen when a woman said no.
“Yes.” She took my hand. “I only want you, Carson. Let’s not let him come between us ever again, please.”
I squeezed her hand. “Deal. But I’m gonna need to have a conversation with Dean.”
“I think you should. He’s not listening to me.”
“He’s a fucking narcissist.” I shook my head. “What kind of an asshole would dump a woman who’s about to give birth to his kid?”
Joss’s face fell. “I know. And even though some people would say Amanda is getting what she deserves, I just can’t get on board with that. No woman deserves this. She’s mowing her own lawn, for fuck’s sake. I called a lawn service, and I’m paying them to mow it weekly. Anonymously, so don’t say a word, because she’ll turn it down if she knows it’s me.”
The tension in my muscles relaxed as I let my eyes wander over Joss. God, she was beautiful, both inside and out. I loved the way her long blonde hair curled at the ends, a section of it brushing across one of her round, firm breasts.
“You’re an amazing person,” I said, bringing her hand to my lips to kiss.
She smiled. “So are you. One of these days you’re going to figure out you’re permanently stuck with me.”
Damn, did I like the sound of that. But I wanted to be worthy of her, and a man who would lose his shit like I had at that fundraiser, and in front of her coworkers over the cookies, wasn’t worthy.
I cleared my throat. “I have shit to work on, Joss. So I can be good for you. And I am. I started going to counseling.”
Her eyes brightened. “You did? How was it?”
I shrugged. “Okay. Better than I expected. But I have to go back. I’m not fixed yet.”
She reached out and cupped my cheeks in her hands. “Don’t say that, Carson. You are not broken. It takes strength to get help, and you’ve been through a lot. I’m proud of you.”
My eyes burned with the sting of tears. I’d never heard those words from someone I loved.
“I want this, Joss.” My voice was thick with emotion. “You and me. I really do, and I’m willing to do the work to be good for you.”
She leaned forward and kissed me softly. “Do the work for you, Carson. For peace. I’m already yours. Never doubt that.”
“I’m afraid of losing you,” I admitted, averting her gaze.
“I know that feeling. I get it, too, sometimes. Dean was fucking around on me, and I had no idea. Now I worry that—”
I cut in. “I’d never, ever be unfaithful to you. Never, Joss. I swear it.”
She rested her forehead against mine. “I know. Because you’re you, and you’ve never let me down. I just have to remind myself of that sometimes. And with time, you’ll see that I love you too much to ever leave. I never thought I’d have this . . . what you’ve made me feel. And I never want to lose it.”
I relaxed and reached for her hips, pulling her into my lap, where she wrapped her legs around my waist.
She’d said she wanted me to have peace. I’d never felt more peaceful than I did with her. But she was right. There were other things I needed to make peace with, if it was possible.
It wouldn’t happen overnight. Nothing worthwhile did, though. I’d have to fight for my peace, and I would. The life I wanted for myself was worth it.
Joss was falling asleep against me. She was exhausted. I untangled myself from her, and she curled up on her side, snoring softly within a couple of minutes. I pulled a light blanket over both of us and wrapped my arm around her.
I’d missed her warmth beside me and her soft, sweet scent. I’d even missed the way she talked in her sleep, usually ordering medications for patients or encouraging them to breathe and push.
For the first time in a while, I quickly fell into a restful sleep, too.
Chapter Twenty
Joss
I started to see a new side of Carson after that night. I wasn’t sure if it was because things with us were stronger now or because he was going to counseling. But whatever the reason, my brooding, quiet man started talking more.
In the first couple of weeks after we made up, I found out that Carson wanted to get a dog. He hadn’t mentioned it before because we spent so much time at my place and him getting a dog would mean we needed to be at his place most of the time. He wanted a German shepherd, like the one who had been part of his military unit.
He also told me he didn’t love the smell of the brick cheese I liked to eat with crackers and sliced red onion, and that brushing my teeth afterward still wasn’t quite enough to freshen my breath. I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or amused by his admission.
I didn’t order any more of that cheese, though. Overall, Carson thought I was a goddess. If there was one small thing he didn’t like, I was very willing to find a new snack.
Before, Carson would have shoved down his thoughts and opinions. Now, he was sharing them with me. He’d let slip that he hadn’t been drunk in more than a year because he liked rough sex when he was drunk, and he was remorseful over making women sore the next day.
If I was supposed to be turned off by that, I wasn’t. Tonight, I was topping off his wine glass as often as possible, hoping to see his hungriest side in bed.
“You tryin’ to get me drunk, Miss Drake?” He cocked a brow at me as I filled his glass.
I shrugged casually. “What if I am?”
“Well, since we’re both off till Monday, have at it. But why the sudden interest? Is it because I told you I like to fuck hard when I’m drunk?”
My stomach fluttered as he spoke. Apparently, I didn’t have normal butterflies—I had sex butterflies that flapped their wings when I was turned on.
“I mean . . . I kind of remember you mentioning it.” My cheeks warmed as I avoided his gaze.
Carson picked up his glass and took several swallows of his wine. “I’m more than happy to oblige, but you don’t have to get me wasted to get whatever you want from me, Joss. Just say the word.”
“Okay.”
“You like it rough?”
I turned away from him, trying to hide my red face as I returned the wine bott
le to the kitchen.
“Jocelyn.” His deep, commanding tone made me stop walking. The sex butterflies were back.
“Hmm?” I turned to face him.
“Leave the wine in here. You know we’re gonna drink the whole bottle.”
I nodded and set it down on the coffee table. As soon as I did, Carson took my waist in his hands and pulled me onto his lap. I leaned my forehead against his and closed my eyes, taking in the faint, clean scent of his soap.
“I love you,” he said, his whisper against my lips making me tingle with desire. “I’d do anything for you. Don’t ever feel embarrassed with me.”
I pressed my lips against his and kissed him softly. He gripped my bottom and squeezed hard enough that I moaned and kissed him a little deeper.
“There’s my answer,” he said, his tone amused. “You don’t want me to play nice tonight, do you?”
I bit down on his lower lip in response, and he groaned. He ran a hand beneath the back of my shirt to my neck, holding it as he kissed me long and hard.
And speaking of hard, Carson was clearly as ready to get this party started as I was.
Just then, his phone started buzzing and scooting around on the coffee table. I stopped kissing him, and he groaned his disapproval.
“Fuck whoever that is,” he said.
The doctor in me didn’t like avoiding phone calls. I pulled back, resting my hands on his shoulders. “At least see who it is. It could be a friend stranded on the side of the road who needs help.”
He sighed heavily, muttered, “cockblocker,” and reached around me to grab his phone from the coffee table.
“Don’t recognize the number,” he said as he looked at the screen.
“Is it a 1-800 number?”
He glanced at his phone. “No.”
“I’d answer it, then. It could be someone you served with, couldn’t it?”
Both agreement and disappointment were in his dark eyes as he slid his finger across the screen, wrapping his free arm around my waist to keep me close.
“Hello?” he practically growled into the phone.
I rested my head on his shoulder, and I could hear a male voice on the other end of the line.
“How are you, son?”
Carson tensed. I got goosebumps as silence hung. That had to be his father on the other end of the line, and I’d only heard bad things about him.
“What do you want?” Carson said in a clipped tone.
“Is that any way to greet your father?”
“You don’t know shit about being a father.”
“Maybe if you’d been a better—”
Carson pushed on the screen to end the call, then tossed his phone onto an adjacent couch cushion and leaned his head back. He exhaled deeply, wrapping his other arm around my back and holding me close.
“I’m sorry,” I said against his neck.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I told you to take the call.”
He scoffed. “You didn’t know it was him, babe.”
A few seconds of silence passed before I asked, “How long has it been since you talked to him?”
“A while. A year, maybe?”
“Why do you think he called all of a sudden?”
Carson’s laugh was humorless. “There’s only one reason that douchebag ever calls me. He wants money.”
There was anger in his tone and an edge of bitterness. But what I also heard in his voice broke my heart—hurt. Of course it hurt Carson that his father only called him when he wanted money.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly, pressing myself closer against him.
“It’s nothing new,” he said dismissively.
“It’s still not okay.”
“That motherfucker called me when I was in . . . when I was overseas. Claimed there was a family emergency. A satellite comms guy risked his ass to come find me in the field so he could connect me to him. We were holed up in this crumbling building, taking fire while we held off insurgents, and I had to stop firing to take the call. And that bastard just wanted to know if I’d left an ATM card back home that he could use to get some cash.”
I hated Carson’s father. If we ever met, and I hoped we wouldn’t, nothing would change my feelings for him.
“One of my buddies got shot a few minutes after I got off the phone.” Carson’s voice held remorse. “I’ve never stopped asking myself what might have happened if my worthless father hadn’t called that day. If I hadn’t stopped shooting to take that call. Maybe I would have taken out the guy who ended up shooting my buddy.”
I lifted my head from his chest and met his warm brown eyes. “You can’t put any blame on yourself for that. Anyone would have taken that call.”
“Yeah, but other people don’t have deadbeat dads chasing them down for a few bucks.”
“Some do,” I argued softly. “But you aren’t him, Carson. You’re nothing like him.”
He tightened his grip on me. “I hope not. I’ve tried to be nothing like him.”
“Your friend who was shot—did he make it?”
Carson’s exhale was warm against my temple. “Yeah, but his shoulder was destroyed. He lost the use of an arm.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m haunted by all of ’em, you know? Not just the ones who died from their injuries. The ones I saw bleeding and screaming and begging us to pass messages on to their wives and kids if they died.”
I rubbed my thumb over his wrist as he spoke, silently encouraging him to continue. He’d never shared anything with me about his time overseas, and though it broke my heart to hear his mournful words, I liked that he was opening up to me about it.
“My dad never knew what it meant to put others first,” Carson said. “He didn’t take care of my mom when she was sick, and he never did much for me after she died.”
“That must’ve been really hard.”
“Yeah. I joined the army as a loner, but I found a family there. It was worth every nightmare I have now. Those guys—and a few women, too—would have died for me. Some did.”
“Everyone deserves to have that feeling,” I said. “Unconditional love.”
“You’re my family now, too, Joss. Whether we’re married or not, I’d walk through fire for you.”
My heart warmed with love for him. “You mean everything to me, Carson. Even if you never want kids, I choose you.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Maybe I’ll warm up to it down the road, babe. I just don’t know right now. I never want to make a kid feel the way my dad made me feel.”
“I get that. But I know you, and you’d never do that. We don’t have to make any big decisions right now. Let’s just be happy.”
He nodded his agreement as he tightened his arms around me again. It was like he thought I might slip away if he didn’t hold on with everything he had. I wouldn’t, though. Carson had been let down by people he loved, and it would take time for him to know I wasn’t like them.
“Do you care if we just go to bed?” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper.
The encounter with his dad had drained him emotionally. I knew that feeling, of just wanting to get a hard day over with.
“That sounds good to me,” I said, looking up at him from my spot in his lap with a smile. “Tomorrow’s a new day.”
Carson ran his hand up my spine, to my neck, and into my hair, grabbing onto it gently. Then he kissed me tenderly, his lips slowly and softly brushing across mine.
“I love you,” he murmured, his breath warm.
“I love you, too.”
When he moved to get up from the couch, I got up, too. I followed him into the bedroom, and we settled into our favorite starting sleep position—my legs tucked in between his and my arm across his chest. He held me in his arms again, still seeming to need physical reassurance that I wasn’t going anywhere.
There wouldn’t be any rough sex tonight, and I was okay with that. Somehow, this felt more intimate, anyway.
Chapter Twenty-One
Carson
“Sorry about the paint smell,” Gary said as I walked into his office. “I’m hoping it’ll be gone soon.”
“It’s not that strong.” I looked around the spacious room. The walls were a pristine pale gray; framed pictures and diplomas were lined up on the floor, waiting to be rehung.
Gary gestured at a couple of tall bookcases, both filled with a few books and lots of beer steins. “Here’s the collection I was telling you about.”
“Nice.” I nodded with appreciation as I scanned the mugs. “Do you ever use them?”
He shook his head. “I’m a recovering alcoholic. Been sober for eleven years now. These are just to look at.”
“Good for you.”
He sat down in a worn leather chair, and I took a seat on the couch.
“So how have things been going?” he asked.
Gary was so casual that I felt like I was catching up with a friend. He didn’t have the shrink vibe I’d been expecting before I came here.
“Things are better. Joss and I made up.”
“Good. Can you tell me more about that?”
I ran my fingers over the fabric of a throw cushion on the couch, shrugging. “I guess I realized I was taking all my anger out on her, and that wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to lose her over it.”
“So you forgave her?”
“We forgave each other. It’s been good. I’m trying to tell her things, even though it’s hard.”
Gary nodded with understanding. “Showing vulnerability is the hardest part of any relationship. And how does it feel to share these things with her?”
“It feels . . . hard before I do it. I get tense and nervous. But once it’s out, it gets better. The more I tell her, the easier it gets.”
“What about her? Does she share her insecurities and vulnerabilities with you?”
I smiled as I recalled that first night with Joss, when I was fixing the air-conditioning while falling for her. “Oh yeah. She doesn’t put on any airs. Joss says what she’s thinking.”
Healing Touch Page 13
