by Melissa Blue
“What did he say to you?”
“He did that sandwich thing where you layer two complimentary statements with a criticism. You look lovely and you raised a lovely daughter, yada, yada. All the while telling me to butt out of your business, because it’s a relationship between the two of you. It’s in a fragile state, yada, yada. He then sandwiched that by telling me how he was falling for you.”
Abigail swallowed and made her way to the bar again. Her mother followed and kept right on talking.
“I’m a little put off, but I like a man who lays down the boundaries and is polite about it. I’m sure he’s doing the same with your father. It’s excellent ground work for in-laws.”
Her mother beat her to the bar and had already swigged a good amount of champagne before Abigail could even get a good grip on her glass. All the while continuing to dig a deeper pit in Abigail’s stomach. Her mother was a talented woman.
“I don’t like him, but don’t mess this one up, Abigail.”
She didn’t even wait to feel the coolness of the glass before finishing half of it in one gulp. “Mess it up?”
“Your last boyfriend didn’t last long in the scheme of things. You had him moved in with you and then you broke his heart. If I didn’t know you better, I think you reel them in just to throw them back.”
She finished all of her drink. “That’s not what I do.”
“I haven’t been the greatest example.” Pamela motioned to the bartender for another round. She plucked the glass out of Abigail’s hand and replaced it. “But your Grams is one. Your father’s another.”
“Where’s Grams?” Abigail asked in hopes of distracting her mother.
Pamela waved a hand in the general direction of the entire back yard. “In a corner somewhere, still sipping on her first glass. I must be adopted.” She sighed, and turned to the crowd. “Anyway, he’s smart. He’s sexy. Your friends seem to like him too. If your feet starts to get cold put them in some warm water.”
Abigail’s palms dampened the glass instead of the other way around as the old doubts crept in. “Don’t you care whether or not I like him? What I think about him?”
Pamela let out a heavy sigh. “You wouldn’t have brought him if you didn’t. You knew we’d be here. Plus, you look like you rolled around in bed with him recently.”
Abigail would have knocked back the rest of her glass, but her head had already started to feel woozy from the first two. “Can you at least act like a mother who wouldn’t say those things to a daughter?”
“Why? I’m this type of mom and you turned out ok.” Pamela frowned at her half-empty glass. “Other than your need to implode every relationship you have.”
“I don’t sabotage relationships.” Exasperated, she rolled her shoulders. “They’re relationships that don’t work. I think there is a huge difference. I don’t make up drama to have a reason to end it.”
“So what exactly is the problem with these men you date? They treat you well. They’re gaga over you. What more could you want?”
Abigail gave the champagne flute a dubious eye and took a sip. “A guarantee it’ll last. An untenable gut feeling I’m doing the right thing and it’ll be the right thing for the rest of my life. A sign. Something. Anything.”
On a roll now, she continued, “Compatibility. Passion. Love. Lust. The it factor.”
Her mother finished her glass and took Abigail’s. “You must be blitzed to think for one second any relationship comes with a guarantee. If someone would have told me that within five years of meeting your dad we’d be divorced, I’d have taken them straight to the crazy house. We were in love.” Her mother scoffed with an edge of bitterness.
“And you know what, I still love him and that is a guarantee. He gave me you. Every ounce of my soul will adore him forever for that alone, but love is simply the foundation you build something solid on.”
“I know.” Abigail’s heart wrenched inside her chest and took the empty glass from her mother’s fingers.
“Good, now know the rest will be blood, sweat and tears. You do it every day. Some days are easier and you can’t even remember why you wanted to call it quits.”
Abigail rubbed at the pounding spot between her brows. Her mother finished off the drink and went on, “There’s a reason fairy tales end at the beginning of the true relationship. There will be days the Beast wants to set fire to Belle’s library and dance in the ashes.”
Abigail sought out Drew and found him still next to her father. Drew’s brows were knitted together, but she could tell he was enjoying the conversation. He didn’t look up to check to see if she was making her way back. He didn’t need rescuing. He’d be fine with or without her, and that knowledge not only scared Abigail blind it created a stab of fear right in her chest that made her feel numb.
How could she go out on a limb not knowing for sure what they had would last? What was she to do when there was no sign or surefire way to know if he was the one? Or, to know they were compatible enough not to drive each other insane on a daily basis. She looked forlornly at the empty glass in her hand and then her mother’s hand.
“Mom, sometimes I really hate talking to you,” Abigail said.
“It’s how I feel about my mother sometimes. Must run in the family.” Her mother put an arm around her. “Come on, let’s find Grams so she can meet your man too.”
Abigail got another glass of the bubbly before they left the porch. “Might as well go for broke.”
*****
If nerves were electricity then Abigail’s could light Las Vegas’ strip. Drew motioned for her to come inside his home. The buzz from the champagne had lessened once dinner had been served and she’d switched to water. Yet, the frisson of crossing the threshold punched up the feeling.
She took in the flat screen, the enormous couch, surround-sound speakers, and the family photos on the coffee table. All of it surprised her. It shouldn’t have. His home looked like a home instead of a den of sin or bachelor pad.
“You look surprised.” Drew watched her, looking amused.
“I’m withholding judgment until I see your room,” Abigail said to counteract the nerves. “Mirrors might be on the ceiling. Velvet plush covers. Heart-shaped bed.”
He took her purse and hung it on the coat stand next to the door. He kicked off his shoes, but kept his gaze on her. “Scared? Nervous?”
“Both, and stop pointing it out with glee.”
His eyes filled with a teasing light. “This is like a real date for us. Yeah, it started with sex, and it’s going to end in sex, but I met your parents. I’ve been properly introduced to all the people you know as Drew Carter. Abby, this is such a big step for me. I’m legitimate now.”
She snorted with laughter. “Shut up.”
He strolled over to her, placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her backward through the house. “I’m having too much fun. I’ve bonded with your father over my choices in stocks and bonds.”
She frowned and let him lead her to his room. “You have stocks and bonds?”
“Of course. How else am I going to retire at fifty and truly become a loafer? I haz prioritah.”
On a laugh she fisted her hands on his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. “Shut up,” she said against his mouth.
He stopped and nipped her bottom lip. “Nope. Not yet. Take off your heels. I like it when I loom over you.” He bent down to kiss her again.
When she toed off her shoes, his erection poked her stomach. “You have a very long… hallway.”
He nipped at her lip again. “I’m starting to think you give me those lines.”
Her head swam as his tongue swirled around her mouth, tasting her and laughter spilled from her throat. “I do,” she said.
The backs of her thighs bumped into the mattress. He pulled back and lightly pushed her onto it. “Sit still.”
Without ceremony Drew began to undress until he stood before her bare. His erection was heavy and so close to her, Abigail reach
ed out to stroke him. He tutted.
“Not yet.” He went to a drawer and pulled out candles and a lighter. He placed the candles around the dark room and lit them. She clawed her fingers into the mattress because his penis swayed back and forth with each movement. A hunger staked claim in her mouth and she needed to taste him.
“Come here,” she said.
Drew glanced in her direction and his lids were low and his gaze hot, but he tutted again. “Not yet.”
He went to the nightstand where an iPod deck sat and took his time putting on music. Drew was setting the mood.
“You don’t have to,” she said when he stood in front of her again.
Drew bent down, cradled her face. He kissed her as though this would be the last chance he’d ever get to kiss again. The intensity quieted her mind.
“This time, I do,” he said against her mouth, and then ran his tongue over the curve of her top lip. “Now stand up so I can undress you.”
She’d brushed against the hard length of him. He made a deep sound down in his throat and grasped a handful of her hair, pulled her head back to expose her neck. He lavished her collarbone with wet kisses and unzipped her dress.
She started to shimmy out of it, and he stilled her, both hands holding up the dress where the demi-cut bra began.
“I love this type of bra.” His breath warmed the skin right above her left areola while his hands slid underneath her breasts.
Drew cupped the mounds and pushed up. Her nipples peeked at the edge of the material. Her breathing grew heavy as he dipped his tongue down and used his teeth to tug a nipple out.
The sting of pain turned to pleasure when he kissed the nipple to make it feel better. Hands splayed on her arms, he pushed her back down onto the bed. The touch wasn’t rough, but forceful. She melted onto the mattress.
“Did you still want me to rush?” he asked.
Unable to form words, she shook her head. This was seduction, and she loved every moment of it. He knelt down between her legs and placed a kiss on her knee…and made his way up between her thighs. “What do we have here, Ms. Johnson?”
She’d braced her arms on the bed, and they trembled at the heat of his breath on her skin. Like he’d done with her breasts, he dipped his tongue underneath the barrier of cloth, and still he easily found the hardened nub. Another swirl of his tongue, a flick at the hooded flesh and she moaned. He gripped her thighs spread, her fully and sucked her through the lace.
“Oh, my, Mr. Carter.” Abigail let out a surprised but husky laugh.
He chuckled, and pulled back, taking off her underwear with the action. “Later I’ll be the assistant to your boss, but right now, lay down and do as I say.” He backed up the command by rubbing his thumb over her clit.
Her arms refused to hold her up anyway and she fell back on the mattress. “So unfair,” she said breathless, as he yanked her down until her butt kissed the edge of the bed.
“You know how I feel about my reputation, and you have to pay for those forty minutes.”
She started to reply, but his thumb and mouth wrenched all thought from her mind. He ran his tongue over the outline of her inner lips, then in a tighter and smaller circle until all he licked was the entrance of her. His thumb mimicked the same motion, round and round over her clit. No more words were uttered while he licked and sucked her sex. There were only her moans and the sound of his hunger. He didn’t stop after the first time her body bowed. Not until she begged him to stop. Then he stood between her quivering legs.
He ground against her. She clenched and grasped at nothing and more quakes followed.
“Now?” she said.
“Not yet, Abby.” He bent over her and whispered, “Not even close.” He chuckled at her whimper, and cool air rushed in when he stepped away.
Head heavy, she lifted it to watch him move in the candle-light. He went to the same drawer and pulled out a condom. Confused, but sated, her gaze drunk in the deft way he sheathed himself. He grabbed one ankle and tugged her in the direction he wanted. Once she lay across the middle of the bed, he climbed over her. He knelt again, positioned her legs to rest on his hips and curled into Abigail, tucking his arms under hers.
“Curious?” he asked, a grin splitting his face.
She felt him, hot and hard, teasing her womanhood. “Not what I would call it.” She gasped when he thrust hard into her.
He pressed his lips against her ear. “What would you call it?” He rolled his hips and slid in and out of her slowly. He answered for her on a groan, “Torture.”
He glided in and out, in, out, in that same slow pace. “It’s how I feel every time I look at you.” He nipped at her earlobe and rode out her orgasm in stride. “That need…that deep tug that never seems to end.”
“Yes,” she said, and knew exactly what he meant.
And knew what he was saying without meaning to. This time he drew the first blood. She didn’t want to need him like this. No one. Ever. She stared into his eyes, at the message clearly written in the dark irises. It was her choice, take all of him or nothing.
With each achingly slow stroke, each lazy roll of his hips, he challenged her to deny that need. He dared her to run from it. And she couldn’t when his arms imprisoned her and as he bowed his back, furrowing deeper.
She had to take all of him or nothing. He filled her to the brim and left no room for anything or anyone else. She came again. Harder. Holding him prisoner, too, now. Locked in their desire, he shuddered on a groan and gave her all that was left.
*****
Drew padded into the kitchen, and his mind refused to comprehend the sight in front of him. Abigail snorted, crossed the room to him from the stove, and closed his mouth with a finger. “Flies might get in.”
“You cooked.” He took in the stack of pancakes warming on the stove. She’d been scrambling eggs, but the smell of bacon filled the room. It’s why he’d gotten out of bed in the first place.
“Don’t look so scandalized. I won’t ever beat Emma in a bake off, but I’m a single woman. Starve or learn.”
“I just—” He cleared his throat. “Assumed you left.”
She shrugged. “It’s Sunday. No plans for the day.”
He smiled and read between the lines. She wanted to spend the day with him. In not so many words, they were making plans. Plans. The future. Yeah. He liked that. “While I’m thinking about it, next week Marilyn’s having a birthday bash at McNally’s.”
“We hate each other. She’ll get on my nerves and vice versa.” She paused for a moment. “I will most definitely go with you.”
The smile held. “Newspaper?”
“Left it outside. Drives me nuts when someone messes up mine before I get a chance to go through it.”
“Thanks, but I’m not that picky. You can get first crack at it.”
She turned off the fire and looked downright hopeful. “Are you sure?”
“How about this, the first one who gets it—”
Abigail took off at a run. He really didn’t care about getting the newspaper but chased her to the door. He got there first and barred her way, spreading his hands out against the walls.
A smile curved her lips. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d step aside.” Her breath panted out.
“I do know, and if I let you win, you’ll never let me live it down.”
The borrowed shirt lifted to her upper-thigh when she crossed her arms. “Are you calling me a sore loser?”
“I am.” He blocked the playful punch to his shoulder and wrapped his hand around her wrist. “But, I can be persuaded to move.”
Her tongue peeked between her teeth as she took in his half-naked appearance. He only wore boxers and socks. “You know, Mr. Carter, as my assistant, you have to do everything I tell you to.”
His blood drained from his head at the image her words conjured. “I knew there was a deeper, more poignant reason why I liked you.”
She closed the distance and slid her hands beneath th
e boxer’s band. “I’ve had a taste for something all morning.”
“Pancakes?” he rasped, as she closed her fist around him.
She pulled his cock out of his boxers. His penis bobbed up and then down, the weight from the erection made it heavy.
“Another guess?” She spread the pre-come over the crown that rose to the tip, and he sucked in a breath. She stroked her palm down to the base and tightened the grip. He watched himself in her soft and hot hand.
Drew closed his eyes and let his head thump against the door. “Temptress, I can make a crude joke right now.”
He jerked when her lips pressed against his chest. “I know and that’s why I said it.”
Lower her mouth went, and she kept stroking him in her hand, milking him for more pre-come. His eyes shot open. She lapped up the liquid cresting at the head of his dick. He couldn’t watch and hold back the pressure building up inside him. Once again his head thumped on the door, and he saw stars but because of Abigail. She’d taken him into her mouth. Deep.
She hummed, and the action made his toes curl involuntarily. “Abby,” he groaned.
Abigail pulled back, never loosening the suction from base to tip, so when he slid out of her mouth it made a wet, erotic sound.
His breath huffed out. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come.”
She took him back into her mouth, deeper and deeper until he lost control. His hips jerked, burying himself even farther. He imagined more than felt the stream of come sliding down her throat, because he’d gone numb from the overload of sensations. She’d taken all of him.
Abigail pulled back, licking her lips and moaning. Eyes lit from the thrill. “So, this means I get the newspaper?”
His heart pounded in his chest, and he could barely put words together. She took that as her answer. For a third time his head thumped against the door, as he tried to catch his breath, catch his heart.
“Abby, it’s yours,” he said.
Chapter Fourteen
