Beneath the Scars

by Cherise Sinclair

  Was she going to give up on them and not even try? Holt scowled as the dismal thoughts circled his brain. She wanted him. Dammit, she loved him. But if there was a conflict between what she wanted and what her son wanted, she might just dump her relationship with Holt.

  “There doesn’t have to be a conflict,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  Holt turned to see Josie on the other side of the fence, her forearms resting on the top of the wooden slats. She started to smile at him and faltered. “Um. You’re home.”

  “That’s right.” Rising, he stalked toward her. His hands ached with the need to grab her. Hold her.

  Her eyelids were swollen; her eyes, red. She’d been crying.

  Hell. Remorse stabbed him. Maybe he shouldn’t have given her so much time.

  “I was fixin’ to come over and apologize. To talk. To…” She bit her lip. “Um. I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me, so if you don’t, then….”

  He curled his fingers around hers. She had a sturdy hand, yet it was so very fragile. Much like her. Tough on the outside, vulnerable on the inside. “Josie, I wanted to see you the second I walked out your door.”

  Her expression brightened in a slow sunrise of hope. “Really?”

  “I figured you needed time but, sweetheart, your time is up. Have you opened your front door lately?”

  Her confused frown said no.

  “Go look.”

  A man shouldn’t waste a perfectly good apology gift—and maybe she’d sample some of the contents and get those endorphins rolling around before they started talking about arson.

  And relationships.

  On an upwelling of hope, Josie opened the front door. A brightly wrapped box dangled from the outside door handle. The attached card said, “I’m sorry. Let’s talk. H.”

  Oh. Oh, God. Her eyes misted. He hadn’t given up.

  Retreating to the living room, she tore the gold foil paper off. Chocolate. And not one of the generic standard boxes found in grocery stores. The man had visited the William Dean store and somehow handpicked her favorites.

  He’d had an informant. Oma. No wonder her great-aunt hadn’t been home.

  All day long, Josie’d stewed and fumed and argued with herself. Whined. Cried. Oh, God, she’d cried. And then been so angry with herself—and Holt—that she’d written an entire battle scene in her book out of sequence so she could kill something, if only on paper. The reptilian race attacking the human village had died by the dozens.

  It was good she hadn’t seen Holt right then.

  Shaking her head, she took a step toward the door, then turned, selected a pink-topped raspberry-brûlée, and popped it in her mouth. The explosion of chocolate and sweet-tart fruit was so intensely wonderful, her mind simply stopped.

  He’d bought her chocolates. The time and trouble he’d taken was a revelation but not surprising at all. Not for him. No wonder she loved him so much.

  She crossed the front lawn to his duplex and saw him. Leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. Waiting for her.

  When she neared, he curled his hand around her nape and kissed her gently. Sweetly. “Mmm. Chocolate tastes good on you. I bet it would taste good in a lot of places.”

  When he rubbed his knuckles over her breast, her blood heated.

  No. She didn’t realize she’d spoken until he moved her to his side and put his arm around her.

  “You’re right. We need to get this straightened out before we can indulge in makeup sex.” He led her into the living room.

  His casual assumption that they could work things out took her breath away. “But what if we can’t? I…I haven’t talked with Carson.” Remorse stole through her. She should have pinned her boy down last night and to heck with his homework and sports. “I let him put me off with excuses last night.”

  “Babe.” Holt tilted her chin up. “You know he’s involved—if only peripherally—with whomever is starting the fires.”

  It wasn’t an accusation as much as a statement of fact from a pediatric nurse who’d probably heard a lot of lies. His gaze was level.

  “I know. And we’ll talk as soon as he gets back from soccer.” She set her jaw. “School night or not, we’ll stay up as long as it takes.”

  “Poor kid. I wouldn’t want to take you on when you get that look in your eyes.”

  The amusement in his low smoky voice was infinitely comforting, and she pressed her cheek against his muscular chest. “I missed you.” The words slipped out past her control.

  His iron-hard arm contracted around her, pulling her almost painfully against his solid frame. “I missed you, too, Josie. Why the fuck do you think I agreed to work an extra shift last night?”

  She looked up at him quizzically.

  “If I hadn’t, I’d have been pounding on your door last night. I promised to give you time.”

  Like bubbles, her spirits rose to the surface. “Thank you.”

  “Tonight, if you need help talking to Carson, you can call me. But I figure you can get through to him better than anyone else.”

  She let out a breath of relief.

  “Don’t think you’re off the hook, sweetheart. You and I still have things to discuss.”

  “We do?” Under his piercing gaze, her eyes dropped.

  “You know what I’m talking about. The way you tried to end things with me—because your son was upset.”

  Carson had been more than upset. Guilt stabbed her chest. “He said he hates you,” she whispered. The memory of his words still shook her.

  “Josie, your son likes me. He was over here, hanging out, all the time until he realized you and I were serious. His behavior is simply how kids act when they’re afraid their life might change.”

  Exactly what Linda had said last night. What Josie knew. “You’re right. I’ll talk with him. I tried after the pet adoption and…well, he pushed me away.” She sighed. “He’s always been upfront and easy to talk with, but he’s changed. I need to learn to deal with this new adolescent behavior and not let him evade the hard discussions.”

  “Now you see what he’s doing, you’ll manage.” Holt bent his head and kissed her…and deepened the kiss. He smiled down at her. “This is where the makeup sex ensues in case you were wondering.”

  With a jolt of surprise, she realized he’d moved them into his bedroom. Right into his bedroom.

  “But—”

  “No buts.” He unbuttoned her shirt and slid it off. “Mmm, you have gorgeous shoulders. Probably from lifting all those bottles and trays.” His lips were warm and velvety as he kissed her neck and nuzzled the curve where her neck met her shoulders.

  A shiver ran through her. “Holt, we should…talk.”

  “We will. We’ll have a serious discussion. Very soon.” Her jeans dropped down around her ankles.

  Shocked, she stared at him in the dim light of the bedroom. His eyes glinted with laughter and determination, a combination that put flutters inside her stomach.

  Slowly, he ran his hands up and down her bare arms and waited, gaze on her face. Giving her a chance to protest. But oh, she’d missed him so badly, missed his hands on her, missed his…control.

  After two days of worrying about how to please everyone, now, under his confident gaze, she knew she didn’t have to think. At all. Silently, she leaned into his hands.

  A corner of his mouth quirked upward…and he efficiently stripped off her bra and briefs, leaving her naked and him fully clothed.

  She was exposed. Totally.

  His gaze ran over her, and he cupped a breast. Weighed it. Caressed it.

  She flushed from the heat in his eyes. “You’re…still dressed,” she said faintly.

  “Noticed that, did you?” His smoky voice held a thread of amusement under the steely control. Setting his other hand on her stomach, he pushed her backward until her thighs bumped the bed—and didn’t stop until she was on her back. He swung her legs up onto the mattress.

  “Holt,” she gasped, propping her
self up on her elbows.

  His raised eyebrow corrected her.

  “Sir. You—”

  “Shhh.” He lifted her arm and lifted her right wrist over her head.

  When he sat back, she couldn’t lower her arm. What? Tilting her head back, she saw a Velcro cuff around her wrist, and even as she realized what he’d done, her left wrist was restrained. She tugged and couldn’t get loose. “What are you doing?”

  “Enjoying myself,” he answered. “Pleasing my kinky nature. And yours, as well, I think.” His gaze met hers. “The safewords are still red and yellow, pet.”

  Pet. Enjoying himself. Most of the time, his commanding personality was concealed by his easy-going air. But in bed, his true nature came forward—absolutely masculine, utterly self-confident, totally in charge.

  When he ran his hands down her bound arms as if to emphasize her helplessness, the bed seemed to sink a foot.

  She stared at him.

  “I rather like that expression.” Cupping the back of her head, he kissed her, possessing her mouth—not roughly, but with a controlled power that took everything she offered and more.

  By the time he moved away, her every protest had vanished.

  But when he gripped her left ankle and cuffed it to the bottom bedpost, all sorts of new worries rose. “Holt—uh, Sir. No.”

  “Yes.” He walked to the other side of the bed and restrained her right ankle.

  Oh, God. She’d seen this kind of bondage in pictures. She was spread-eagled, her arms secured over her head, legs spread widely. Her pussy was open and available for his use.

  Her nerves were quaking, even as a disconcerting heat rose within her. Because she trusted him. Whatever he chose to do, he wouldn’t hurt her. He’d not abandon her here or do anything she didn’t enjoy.

  Kneeling between her open legs, he leaned forward and brushed his fingertips over her very hard nipples. “I love how you get turned on by being tied down,” he said softly. “Let’s see how far I can go in keeping you this hot.”

  Bending down, he licked over one nipple, then the other, wetting them, blowing them to coolness, covering them with his callused hands. His caresses grew more demanding, harder. Bracing himself on an arm, he kissed her—and rolled her nipple between his fingers. Gently. Then more firmly.

  She tried to gasp and found the sound blocked by his mouth, his tongue. Shivers ran over her skin as he switched to her other breast, still kissing her. She tried to pull away, to move her hands, but she was spread out like a banquet for him to sample as he chose.

  He sucked on her throbbing nipples and laved them with a tender tongue, playing with her until heat suffused her every breath.

  After kissing his way down her stomach, he settled between her open thighs. Pressing her labia open, he ran his finger up and down her pussy, coating the area with her own wetness.

  Oh God. When she opened her eyes, she saw that even as he touched her, his gaze was on her face, her arms, her hands, her shoulders. Assessing her responses.

  He smiled slowly, holding her gaze with his own as he deliberately slid his finger over her clit.

  Excitement coursed into every cell of her body.

  “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he said softly, his finger teasing her with circles and light touches.

  Before she could start begging for more, he went down on his elbows and bent his head. Delicately, he took her clit between his lips.

  The heat of his mouth almost sent her over, and he chuckled. With light pressure, he licked and flicked with his tongue, then sucked in tiny pulls.

  Her clit and folds swelled, getting tight and tingling and urgent. Fighting the restraints on her ankles, she tried to raise her hips, to get more.

  “Uh-uh, baby,” he murmured. “You get what I want to give. When I want to give it. How I want to give it.” He set his forearm over her pelvis and ruthlessly continued.

  Oh, she was getting closer.

  Two fingers slid inside her, stretching her, and the increased sensation buffeted her.

  He continued, pumping lightly, until she hovered on the precipice of coming. The world narrowed to his fingers, his tongue, his lips. Couldn’t he go just a bit faster? Harder?

  Then he moved up her body. Kissing her stomach along the way.

  “Holt,” she whined.

  “Who?” He nipped the side of her breast in reprimand.

  “Sir. Please.”

  “Eventually.” Holt took her mouth, hard and fast, silencing her completely. Then, with teeth and fingers and tongue, brought her nipples back to throbbing, aching peaks.

  Her pussy was next. He used only his tongue this time, teasing and teasing, too lightly to get her off, touching her until she was again close and straining upward.

  When he paused, she moaned a protest and yanked at her hands.

  He sat back and watched her in silence. His lesson was clear. She had no power. No control. Couldn’t even move. Something inside her seemed to fall, crumbling like concrete walls.

  “Very nice.” His touch was gentle as he stroked her open thighs.

  Finally, he rose and stripped off his jeans.

  His cock was perfectly straight, wonderfully thick in the middle, more than at the glans or base. Her fingers curled in a longing to touch. “It’s so beautiful.”

  He followed her gaze and let out a huffed laugh before sheathing himself with a condom.

  Back between her legs, he braced a hand next to her shoulder, rubbed his cock against her entrance to wet it, and pressed inside in one steady, ruthless thrust, making her struggle to accommodate him. She gasped for air, squirming beneath him.

  He’d filled her completely, and her pussy burned with the intimate joining, the solid presence within her. Her clit was making urgent demands for more. “You feel so good.”

  “We fit well, don’t we?” As he propped himself up on his forearms on each side of her head, his weight came down on her hips and belly.

  All his weight. How was he going to be able to thrust?

  Confused, she tilted her head back to look up at him. “Sir?”

  “Now, let’s talk.”

  Holt watched confusion fill Josie’s lust-glazed eyes.

  Her brows drew together. “Talk?” Her voice was husky from passion, strained from need.

  She hadn’t come.

  Neither had he.

  First, they’d talk.

  “I love you, Josie.”

  Pleasure filled her gaze as she inhaled with a soft sound. “I wasn’t sure you still…”

  “Yes, I still love you. I want to be with you—in your life, yours and Carson’s. When the time is right for you both, I want to marry you, be his father, and give him a brother or sister. And a dog. Definitely a dog.”

  “That’s so…” Her voice trailed off, and slowly, her brows drew together. He saw her realize his cock wasn’t moving. That he was settled in…to talk. She yanked at her wrists, glared at him. “You’re fixin’ to have a discussion now?” Her attempt to wiggle was frustrated by his weight on her torso, and she gave a frustrated shriek.

  “Yes. Now while I’m deep inside you.” As he slowly eased out and back in, then stopped, he had to exert all his control. “You need to understand what kind of a man I am. What kind of a Dom I am.”

  He pressed deeper, her cunt snug and hot around him. “If we’re together, decisions will be made by us both—even if it takes hours of talking to reach agreement. I’ll share in raising Carson. It’ll no longer be you alone.” He smiled slightly. “That’s the good news and the bad news. You won’t have to decide everything on your own, which can be a relief, but…you’ll no longer get to decide everything, even if you want to.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and her body tensed as she grasped his meaning. If they were together, she would no longer have sole charge of her boy.

  His chest felt tight, but…this was important. A make or break moment.

  Her gaze took in his face, and her frown disappeared. As her lips tipped u
p, his heart did a slow somersault. She nodded. “I understand. That’s how real families with two parents work. You might have to remind me now and then.” Her eyes were still red from lack of sleep…and crying. He wasn’t the only one who’d done a lot of thinking.

  He nuzzled her temple, teasing the tiny hairs there before nipping the top of her ear. Her muscles contracted around his dick. Mmm. “I will.”

  Now, how to explain the next part.

  “More?” She rubbed her breasts against him provocatively.

  “You little brat,” he muttered. “Yes, there’s more.” Tipping his weight to one arm, he slid his hand into her hair and fisted it.

  Her pupils dilated with her pleasure.

  “I like control, pet. Now, the only time where I demand control is in anything having to do with sex. However…if you want to relinquish more, I’ll pick up the slack. Gladly.”

  “You’re saying you want me to…lean on you?”

  Her years of bartending had given her a wealth of knowledge about people. Yet, when it came right down to it, she’d never lived with a guy. Loved a guy. She was frighteningly inexperienced. “Sweetheart, in a healthy relationship, you lean on each other. Usually in different ways, but it’s mutual leaning.”

  She gave a tiny spurt of laughter. “I like it. Mutual leaning.”

  “My scholarly author.” He had to kiss her. As he took her mouth, her cunt was a hot velvet sheath around his cock, her breasts soft under his chest. And her mouth was generous as he demanded a response.

  She was going to kill him.

  Pulling back, he cleared his throat. “As we talk, keep what I said in mind.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  Settling back into position, he kissed her forehead and got himself back under control. Time for her to talk. “I know you want me, Josie. You want what we can have together. But you’re also damned uncertain. It’s time to deal with your worries. Tell me what you’re concerned about.”

  She bit her lower lip, nicely swollen from his kisses. “It’s mostly about Carson. What if things don’t work out between you and me? What if I bring you into our lives and then you leave, making Carson feel rejected by a father figure all over again?”