by Vivien Vale
“There’s an en suite in your room with a shower and fresh towels,” I call over my shoulder while leaving the room.
It’s a relief to put some distance between this sex goddess and me.
She’s got so much sex appeal that if I could capture it and sell it, I’d triple my net worth in a matter of months.
Or days. Seriously.
At the top of the stairs, I hesitate. Should I go back and make sure she’s alright?
I shake my head. It would be under false pretenses, and I’ve already crossed the bridge and promised myself a clear, mental no to fucking her before she signs the contract.
I don’t need a fucking baby running around without a contract.
After some more fucking internal wrestling, I decide to order some food.
Twenty minutes later, a large silver tray laden with delicacies is being brought into my penthouse apartment.
Even after receiving the food, it takes me another two minutes before I head back upstairs. I’m going to knock on June’s door and tell her she’s got to eat. Any employee of mine—not to mention the mother of my future baby—must eat properly.
I bet she hasn’t eaten all day.
After taking two steps at a time up the stairs and walking with a bit too much fucking enthusiasm down the hallway, I find myself outside the door of the spare room.
I lean forward and am about to knock when I hear a strange sound.
My brow furrows. What’s that sound, and where’s it coming from? Gingerly, I lean forward and press my ear against the door.
It’s coming from inside the room.
It takes me several seconds to figure out what the noise is. It’s not the television, nor is it the sound of rain.
It’s June sobbing.
The sound hits me hard. It rattles me to my fucking bones.
I need to do something about it. I don’t care if she wants my help or not, she’s going to get it anyway.
I don’t bother fucking knocking. I barge right in.
Chapter 8
June
His body shouldn’t feel this good, and his clothes shouldn’t smell this good. I shouldn’t be enjoying the cool crispness of his shirt against my tear-stained cheek this much. I shouldn’t be moving in closer, pressing myself harder against the solid hardness of him.
And I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about how warm and safe I would feel if our clothes were off and we could lie together, skin against skin.
But what I shouldn’t do and what I’m doing right now are one and the same.
It’s like I can’t help myself right now. I feel scared and anxious and exhausted, and here Carter is, with big, strong arms and a reassurance that no matter what, right now I’m safe.
“I’m…I’m okay now,” I finally choke out, trying to pull away.
“You’re not,” Carter insists, holding me even tighter.
And he’s right, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“You don’t need to—” I try again, but he stops me with a soft Shhhh before I get the words out.
“I know I don’t need to.” I feel his warm breath against the crown of my head as he tucks me beneath his chin. “But I want to. Tell me what’s wrong, June. I’ll find a way to make it okay.”
Slowly, I raise my head to meet his warm, almost seductive gaze. His eyes are the color of the Caribbean, representing an ocean of opportunity that I’m afraid to plunge into. It’s a look I know, a look I know not to trust.
He’s searching my returning stare, hunting for the key to unlock the deepest secrets in the cobwebs of my mind. Desire burns in his eyes, a flame that ignites a warm feeling in my own belly, one that’s entirely unfamiliar to me.
Of course, I know what I’m afraid of, apart from the obvious.
My biggest fear is history repeating itself. The gnawing and plaguing issue of my ex-fiancé come screaming to the front and center of my brain, threatening to explode from my tongue like a volcano spewing hot lava.
Carter feels so masculine and strong, a nurturing accompaniment to my spirit. But can I trust him? An internal struggle ensues.
I go from thinking I can trust him, to the cold, hard reality that no man can be trusted.
In the end, I conclude that maybe, just maybe, I can trust him.
So far, he’s given me no reason to be wary and on guard. There’s something different about Carter. He’s not like the other jerks I’ve met around this city so far—but then again, my ex Kody is living proof that garbage collects no matter what region of the country you hang your hat at night.
Not to mention I’ve only known the man for less than twenty-four hours.
“Whatever is bothering you,” his voice is deep and soft. “You can trust me.”
I give him a feeble attempt at a smile before sniffing and then wiping my soggy eyes.
“Are you sure about that? Aren’t all guys supposed to proclaim they’re trustworthy?”
Of course, I’m only trying to make a joke to lighten the mood. I don’t mean to sound as cynical as I’m coming across.
The expression radiating from Carter’s gorgeous eyes is innocuous and inviting.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but your secret is safe with me.”
He moves his index finger and thumb up to his lips, pretending to zip his lips and throw away the key.
I giggle and bite my lip. He sure is charming, I’ll give him that much.
Maybe I’m naïve enough to spill my guts to him. Who knows, maybe if I vent my woes, it will lift some of the heavy load and burden I’m carrying around on my shoulders?
“Believe it or not, this sweet country girl has somewhat of a…” I pause to brace myself before continuing. I inhale a fresh batch of air into my lungs. “Somewhat of a history that’s…complicated.”
Carter gasps, mocking me, but in a sweet and playful way that brings a smile to my lips.
“I don’t believe it,” he teases. “You’re too perfect for drama.”
I scoff and accidentally snort, which in turn fills my cheeks with a warm shade of crimson. I glance down at my thumbs and pick at my nails absentmindedly. “I wish I could say that, but nobody is perfect.”
Carter strokes my cheek and gently brushes a strand of unruly hair off of my face, tucking it tenderly behind my ear.
The touch of his skin against mine gives me chills of pleasure that I try to ignore. All men are…I can’t even bear to think in swear words.
“I was engaged,” I state with sheepishness, as if I were reluctant to explain further—but I know the can of worms is now exploding all over the room.
This gets Carter’s full attention. He raises an eyebrow. “You were engaged?”
“Yep,” I nod with a sardonic chuckle. “I told you that would be hard to believe.”
“Hmm,” Carter says, and his expression is impossible to read.
He gazes out the window of his penthouse apartment, which portrays the canvas of a horizon marked with unending beauty in the form of stellar skyscrapers.
I sigh. “You’re freaked out, aren’t you?” I continue to stare at my knees, unable to spark up enough bravery to look him in the eye.
“No, of course not.” His immediate response gives me some reassurance. He places his hand affectionately on my shoulder. “I can see the pain you’re going through.”
At his sympathy, I feel another flood of tears coming, but I will myself to keep those gates sealed tight.
“His name is Kody.” The word slides from my tongue with sourness. “I loved him,” I confess and laugh at the irony of my situation. “He hurt me, he smashed my heart into millions of tiny pieces.”
“You don’t have to be broken anymore.” Carter’s voice is cool on my neck and soothing to my heartstrings.
He doesn’t press me further, but I’m ready to spill all, no matter how ugly the reality of it is.
“The bastard cheated on me.” Heat flushes my cheeks again at the swear word that I’
m not used to expelling—but in this case, there’s simply no better word to represent him. And it feels oddly good to finally say it.
“I’m so sorry.” Carter’s touch is sincere. But my guard is up. I remind myself he’s no better than Kody. At the end of the day, all men are the same, all except my dad.
“It’s okay,” I sniff and scornfully laugh with bitter contempt. “It’s not your fault.”
“Do you want me to go kick his ass for you?” Carter jokes.
I laugh and glance up at his handsome face. “How did you get so charming?”
Carter shrugs with stoic nobility. “Years of practice I guess.”
Great. Just when I think he can’t possibly get any more adorable, he goes and raises the bar on himself yet again.
“It’s nice of you to listen to me pour my heart out,” I mumble, torn between seeking out some type of physical touch between us and at the same time maintaining my distance.
“You’re…” I hesitate. “You’re really quite cute and not the ferocious boss you make out to be.”
I’m skating into flirtatious territory with him, and that makes my heart flutter.
“So are you,” Carter says. “I can’t believe any guy out there would be stupid enough to cheat on such a sweet and beautiful girl like you.”
I blush at his compliment. “Thanks,” I chuckle. “That’s not the end of the story, though,” I continue.
“Really?” Now Carter appears enormously intrigued.
“The drama doesn’t stop there,” I joke.
“Like I said, you can trust me.” Carter’s voice is earnest.
I nod and take another deep breath. “He got another girl pregnant right before we were supposed to get married.”
There. I’m finally saying it—out loud—to people. It’s not just a nightmare swirling through my memory any longer.
It feels good to have it out there in the open.
“Wow.” That’s all Carter says.
Apparently, the shock value of my confession is sinking into Carter’s psyche right now. I give him a few minutes to digest the information.
“I’ve been feeling the ripples of heartbreak ever since,” I admit.
“Nobody should have to go through something so traumatizing,” Carter states and rubs my shoulders.
“I miss my dad so much,” I blurt out of nowhere, stunning even myself for being so forthright with Carter, someone I barely know.
“He owns a farm. He’s a simple man, but he tells me all the time how proud he is of me for picking myself back up by my bootstraps and pressing on. He’s my biggest fan.”
“He sounds like a great guy.”
I look up at Carter. Internally, it’s hard for me to discern any difference between him and Kody—or any other guy for that matter.
My mind is still adamant that all guys are the equivalent scum that sticks on the bottom of your shoe.
Kody is a terrible human being. My heart wants to believe that Carter and Kody are one and the same, the only difference being that Carter just has a better haircut and a bigger vocabulary.
There’s one teeny tiny problem with that idea, though.
The way I feel tucked up against Carter’s chest makes me feel like a blanket of warmth is enveloping me with safety, a feeling I enjoy. Maybe…maybe he isn’t as bad as Kody?
I glance up at him, suddenly feeling a caressing pull beckoning me.
Carter leans down. Gently, his lips touch mine, and a firework explosion of desire swells inside of me and shoots out of my fingertips.
I’m savoring every moment of his lips pressed against mine—and the hunger is insatiable. The craving is intense. With his mouth on mine, I can’t help it…
I want more.
Chapter 9
Carter
Her tongue tastes like strawberry fucking ice cream. Her mouth is so sweet and soft and ripe that I can’t help but suck her lower lip between mine and bite down on it with my sharp, hungry teeth.
Part of me expects her to pull away when I do it. Instead, she only whimpers and kisses me harder, her fingers curling tight around the collar of my shirt as she pulls me in for more.
It’s all the prompting I need. I’ve been a master of restraint around women for longer than I’d like to admit, but when it comes to June, things are different. That contract might yet be unsigned, but I already feel like June is mine.
Mine to have. Mine to kiss.
Mine to do with whatever the fuck I want to.
Mine.
And, in the moment—most importantly—she feels like she’s mine to undress.
I let my fingers curl around her collar in the same way—but instead of pulling her blouse off, I rip it apart. Her buttons fly, and her breasts tumble out, heavy and barely contained by her bra.
They’re the breasts that will feed my children someday, I realize. June might not have accepted that yet, but I know for a fact that it’s true.
Until I’m able to put a baby in her, I’ll just have to sample them myself.
My mouth finds one and my hand the other. They’re the perfect size, fitting nicely into my hand, only spilling out a little on either side.
Instead of bringing my mouth over her tits like a suction cup, I let my tongue twirl around her nipple. It’s small, it’s pink, and it tastes fucking delicious.
My teeth join my tongue and bite onto the small rosebud extrusion on the perfect breast. Instead of complaining, pulling away, or voicing her objection, June presses her hips harder into me. Her hands are entwined behind my neck and pulling me closer.
I’m surprised by her passion. Not that long ago, she seemed hell-bent on maintaining her distance. It’s as if a dam of self-control has burst open.
As I bite a bit harder on her nipple, a tiny moan escapes her lips.
I lift my head to catch her eye. She’s not looking directly at me, but a little to my left.
“You okay, babe?”
It takes her a while to focus on me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was intoxicated with some kind of sedative, a drug that has rendered her unable to respond or to voice her objection.
Her lips curl up a tiny bit.
“Better than okay,” she whispers, tracing the outline of my lip with her finger. The gesture is laden with unspoken passion.
My cock is rock hard already. It’s trying to burst through the material of my pants.
With a grin, I go back to smothering her body in kisses. First her right nipple, then her left, and then I move down toward her belly button.
Here, I find she’s still wearing her skirt. Tempting as it is to rip it off her, I hook my index finger into the waistband and pull it slowly down toward her feet.
Sensing my intention, she wiggles her bottom side to side and lifts it off at just the right time so it glides out from under her.
My eyes zero in on her pussy. A tiny cream-colored slip is covering her precious honey pot. I’m drawn to it with every part of my being.
With her skirt out of the way, I start kissing her just above the waistband of her slip. Her hips thrust upwards a little to meet me. I chuckle.
“Impatient are we?”
“Carter, please,” she’s panting.
I glance up and see that her breathing is short and shallow.
“I need you. Now.”
But I don’t want to fucking rush this. This is so very different for me. And then again, do I actually really want to fuck her? There’s the tiny detail of an unsigned baby contract.
I mean, if I’m going to fuck her, she’ll be pregnant for sure. With an unsigned contract it’s a risk.
A risk not worth taking.
By now, she’s bucking like a wild unbroken mare, tempting me into action. I oblige and rip her panties off.
Now her pussy lies exposed in front of me. I can see how wet she is already. The juices are practically dripping from her.
My hand slowly moves over her mound and down toward her clit. I push against it and leave my f
ingers there.
More bucking from the bronco. I’m letting my imagination run wild about the many ways I can tame her. There are so many methods I could use to tame a wild mare like this one.
Her movement displaces my hand. I think the time has come to enter her. Slowly, my index finger pushes into her.
At first, I’m a bit taken aback. It does not slide in all the way. There’s some kind of restriction. A blockage.
I frown.
Gently, I try again, only to be met with the same result.
The realization slowly dawns.
My finger comes out, and I slide back up to be eye level with June.
Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are alight with passion.
“June,” I speak softly. I don’t want to frighten her. She needs to know it’s okay. “Are you still a virgin?”
She cringes at my question and brings her hands up to hide her face. Her body is now perfectly still.
“June,” I lean into her face. I kiss her on the forehead between her fingers. “It’s okay, June. There’s nothing to be ashamed of—I just want to know.”
If I’d known, I would have…
What would I have done anyway?
Not picked her, or not barged into the room to comfort her?
Competing, confusing notions are swirling around my head.
What the fuck had this fiancé of hers been doing all this time with her? Had he just held her hand? Why had he fucked some other girl when he had this beautiful cherry in front of him, a fruit so exquisite and ripe for the picking?
“Come on,” I coax her, as her fingers still hide her face. “Let me see your gorgeous eyes.”
Slowly, she lets her fingers glide down her face. Tears roll down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, and I kiss away those salty tears.
“No need to be sorry,” I reassure her and keep smothering her in kisses.
To make sure she’s totally at ease, my right hand finds her breast and starts massaging and kneading. Eventually, she relaxes.
“I—” she starts before her voice stops suddenly. This time, it’s from a ripple of pleasure passing through her. “I didn’t know how to say…it seemed…not sure…”
She’s unable to form a coherent sentence. But that’s okay. I know what she’s trying to say.
