He inches me closer. “Crash course in sleeping with a guy. We sleep with our legs spread wide. Balls have to breathe, so don’t expect a lot of room. Our dicks are rock hard in the morning and several times a night, so expect to be poked. I don’t snore, and as long as you don’t make me eat green shit, I won’t have gas.” I burst out laughing, and so does he.
“Sex,” I whisper, briefly looking up at him. “I know you probably think that I’m easy or a guaranteed lay, but I don’t want to rush into anything, and sharing a bed is going to make that harder.”
His blue eyes turn a shade darker. “I don’t think that way about you.”
“You trying to tell me that part of this plan of me staying here isn’t so you can fuck me?”
“No,” he says, leaning into my neck. “The plan is to seduce you.”
“There’s a difference?” I ask, pushing away slightly.
“A big one,” he says. “Fucking is just that. Straight to the point. And believe me, you’d like it, but you can walk away after. My plan is to make you want me so badly that you can’t ever walk away. My plan is to make you crave me like I crave you. To need me like you need to breathe. My plan is to make your pleasure my sole purpose in life. The reason I get up in the morning is to make you come, watch your body explode, listen to you moan. So you don’t ever have to worry about me just wanting to fuck you because I want much more than that.”
I crash into him, kissing him hard. He picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and carries me over to the bed. Pinning my hands over my head, he grinds against me, kissing my lips and neck. My body starts to tremble slightly as he hits the right spot over and over again.
His hand slips up the skin of my legs, sending tremors through my body. When he reaches my inner thigh, my legs fall open slightly, my body knowing what it wants. But my head has another plan. “I need to wait.”
When the heat of his hand leaves my thigh, I almost whimper. A part of me hadn’t expected him to accept my rejection. That’s not been my experience in the past. He inhales deeply, like inflating his chest will deflate his penis.
“Okay,” he says simply.
“Really?” I ask. “I thought your game was to seduce me.”
He gently outlines my face with his fingers. “Has your life ever been about what you need?”
“No, not really,” I admit.
“Well, it is now,” he says. “And my life is about what you need. So if you tell me you need to wait, then we wait.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SLADE
Pushing her hair from her face, even in the darkness, I see her blue eyes ripple with tears. I wonder if anyone has ever put her needs before their own.
“I . . .” she starts but can’t finish.
“Tell me,” I say.
“I’ve never had sex for pleasure,” she says.
I can see there’s something else she wants to tell me, but she stops herself. “What about boyfriends?”
“Never had one,” she whispers.
I’m trying to wrap my mind around that when she drops something else she’s never had.
“Never had an orgasm either,” she says, her voice so quiet I wonder if I misheard.
My eyes dart to hers, which she tries to avert in embarrassment. “You need me to remedy that, baby?”
She giggles, pulling me into a kiss. Her mouth parts, granting me access, and my tongue finds hers eager for me. Placing my hand back on her inner thigh, I don’t go any higher.
“Whatever you need,” I whisper, kissing her neck.
“Touch me,” she pants.
I don’t waste a second ripping off her shorts. Giving her thigh a little squeeze, I feel her legs fall open, inviting me. I take my time, toying with her, my finger sliding up and down her long, smooth legs, slowly sliding down her panties. I gently tug on her little triangle of hair. “I like this,” I groan. “I can’t wait to bury my face in it.” Her eyes flash open, and I flash her a naughty little smile. “But only when you need it.” I’m having entirely too much fun teasing her.
“Slade,” she begs.
“Yes,” I tease, my finger outlining her.
“Oh,” she quivers under my fingertips. “Please,” she begs.
“You trust me?” I ask. Her eyes find mine in the darkness. “You trust me to know what you need and give it to you?”
“Yes,” she cries as my finger invades her, working her, stretching her open.
Christ, she’s tight and wet and warm and so fucking beautiful. She’s not naked. I can barely see her in the darkness, yet I can’t take my eyes off her. The shadows of her body as her back arches, the sounds from her full pink lips, the feel of the bed moving as I give her what she needs. Her hand flies to my chest, grabbing my shirt. All I want is to bury myself deep inside her, give her everything, but I just promised her we’d wait. I can’t push. As much as I want to, I won’t. She’s learned some shitty lessons about men in her life, and I need to undo those. Breaking my promise to her won’t help that cause.
But that doesn’t make this any easier. When she screams out my name, my cock throbs so hard it hurts.
Her back arches in a little stretch, and she yawns. Her blue eyes are half-open. I know she’s exhausted between last night and what just happened, but she still reaches for me. Unfortunately, she is interrupted by Finn crying in the other room. Paige releases a deep breath, blowing her hair up out of her face.
“Your screaming woke him,” I tease. Her hand flies over her mouth, realizing how loud she was. “I’ll get him.” Quickly, I kiss her forehead and adjust the aching bulge in my pants, then rush down the hallway and grab Finn from his crib.
Finn’s got big crocodile tears covering his little face, his hand stuck in his mouth with a waterfall of drool running down. Walking back to my room, I find Paige fully dressed. “Look, there’s Mommy,” I say, soothing him.
“What’s wrong with my boy?” she says, taking him and snuggling down on the bed. He lays his head down on her shoulder.
“Sleep,” I say, placing a blanket over her legs.
*
How did my bed get so crowded? Leaning on my side, I watch Finn and Paige sleep. Seeing them side-by-side so still, it’s the first time I’ve noticed they have the same little nose. Finn’s almost totally bald, so it’s hard to know if he’ll have her brown hair. His little hand is holding a fistful of her hair, and she’s completely out. Moving the blanket down slightly, I see her cuts and bruises look even worse today, a yellow color setting in. My plan to kiss those and make them better was interrupted last night. Clearly, I’m not going to be the only man in her life. And Finn is demanding for such a little guy, so I better up my baby game.
Finn squirms a little, his little mouth making a sucking motion. He’s going to be hungry when he wakes up. I want Paige to sleep. I don’t know the last good night’s sleep she had.
How hard can giving a baby a bottle be? I’ve seen Paige do it a dozen times. Scooting out of bed, I stretch, hoping to get downstairs and have the bottle ready before he wakes up. Finn makes another noise, and I turn around, finding him about to crawl right on top of Paige.
Quickly, I scoop him up. Mistake. I must’ve scared him because he starts to cry. “Shh!” I say, holding him to my chest. “Don’t want to wake Mommy. How about a bottle?”
Well, that gets his attention. Little dude might be on his way to alcoholism the way he loves his drink. We make it downstairs without incident, and I get the bottle Paige left in the refrigerator. Finn is wiggling around like a maniac. Do I just give it to him? Does she heat it up? Dammit, I can’t remember. He seems to really want it, so I lower it to his mouth. He reaches up to hold it, but as soon as I let go, it falls to his chest, the baby pout following.
“Okay, I guess I hold it,” I say, taking him into the den and sitting down with him. He reaches up with one hand, feeling the stubble on my face. His eyes study my face, so innocent, so trusting. “So here’s the deal. You can’t be such
a momma’s boy. You’ve got to give me a shot. I won’t do it like your mommy, but we can have some fun.” His little face scrunches up, forcing the bottle out of his mouth. “Don’t be like that.” I lift him up, and the biggest, most manly burp comes out of him. Then he giggles, a little regurgitated milk dripping from his chin. Even though I know the formula is not milk, it still smells like spoiled milk. He reaches for his bottle, and I stick it back into his mouth. “So we eat, then we burp. Easy enough.”
Honestly, I never thought kids were in the picture for me. It’s not that I don’t like them. I do. It’s that they come with a lifelong commitment to their mother, and up until this point, that was a non-starter for me. All that has changed.
A few more gulps, another burp, and I’m in the zone. He finishes the bottle, still sucking on the empty nipple. Even I know that will give him more gas. No one wants that. I lift him up, and he giggles and burps at the same time. Drawing from my middle school days, I make myself burp right back at him. He squeals so loud, and I hear a little giggle behind us.
Turning to look, Paige is standing on the stairs, still in her clothes from yesterday. I should notice the highlights in her hair and her soft skin, but it’s her smile that holds me hostage. Her eyes turn down, her skin turning a warm pink. “Good morning,” she says shyly like she’s waking up after a one-night stand.
Getting up, I meet her at the bottom of the stairs. She kisses Finn on top of his bald head while I kiss the side of hers, giving her ass a good squeeze. “Good morning.”
“How long has Finn been awake?” she asks. “You didn’t need to get up with him.”
“Not long,” I say. “We were just having some guy time.”
“I heard,” she says, taking him from me. “Did this happen to involve a diaper change?”
“Shit, I knew I forgot something.”
She giggles a little, planting a soft kiss on my lips. “Thank you for the extra sleep.”
“What time does he nap?” I ask.
“Usually around . . . Wait, why?”
“Because I need to take you back to bed,” I say, capturing her in my arms.
She raises an eyebrow at me. “It’s a workday, and my boss can be grumpy.”
“I’m sure he understands that you get breaks.”
The doorbell rings, and she starts for the door. “That’s probably my co-worker now.”
As soon as she opens the door, I know it’s not Catrine or Jon. Her entire body stiffens. It’s almost like her DNA changes at that moment, morphing her into someone else.
When he steps through the door, I know why. He fucks with everyone he meets.
“Son.”
Lyle Turner, my father, but I don’t call him that. I haven’t called him that in years. Paige’s eyes catch mine, and she looks like she just got thrust into a horror movie. She might as well have been. My made-for-TV life is just as bad. His blue eyes bore into me. Everyone says we have the same eyes. I hate to share anything with that man. But if he’s focused on me, maybe he doesn’t recognize Paige. She’s not made up like she was the night of the party.
“Lyle,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“My son’s home was destroyed in a tornado. I’m checking on him, and his . . .” He looks over at Paige and Finn. “Or should I say my lady friend.”
Shit. I knew I couldn’t hide her from him forever, but I hate that she’s been blindsided, having no time to prepare for this. I motion for her to come to me, wanting to shield her from my father’s wandering eyes.
“I knew you had Jon escort her out of the party,” he says. “But I had no idea it was to your bed. Didn’t think we had the same taste in women.”
“We don’t,” I say, angling myself in front of Paige and Finn.
He shakes his head at me as only a father can. “You’ve gone and gotten attached.”
“I work for your son,” Paige says. “We’re only here because the ranch suffered so much damage.”
In some ways, she’s so innocent. She’s got no idea the man she’s dealing with. “Similar work to what you did for me?” my father asks.
“I never did anything for you!” she barks, causing Finn to start crying.
Without looking back at her, I say, “Paige, please go upstairs and change Finn.” Much to my surprise, she does what I ask. When she’s out of earshot, I step toward my father. He’s just as tall as I am, but I’ve got size and youth on my side. Still, there’s a power a father holds over his son, no matter how terrible said father is. “I want you to forget you saw her here. Forget you ever met her.”
“She’s not a woman one forgets,” he says with a chuckle.
My blood boils in my veins. I hate this man. Hate him with every cell in my body. But he holds my secrets, my shame, and he could wield that power at any moment. “You came to check on me. Well, you see I’m fine. You can go now.”
“Relax,” he says, slapping me on the back, “I can see you care for her. I think it’s foolish, but I guess we all make that mistake once in our lives.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
PAIGE
I can’t stop trembling. I was calmer during the storm than I am now. Thank God, Finn is occupying himself with his toys and eating his various limbs. I hoped I could avoid this moment forever. It’s never easy to face one’s bad choices, but it’s much worse to have to look them in the eye. Even though nothing happened with Lyle, he still represents all the reasons Slade and I couldn’t ever be happy together. It’s just very early in the morning to have to face that reminder.
I see Slade’s feet in the doorway and can’t bring myself to look up.
“He’s gone,” he says softly.
“I should go, too.”
Quickly, he kneels in front of me. “I don’t want you to go.”
I look up at him, trying to steady my voice. “This can’t work. We can’t change how we met. It will always hang over us. And I doubt your father will ever let us forget, even if we tried.”
“He won’t tell anyone,” he says.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“He’s good at keeping secrets.”
“His own, maybe.”
“No, he’s good at keeping mine, too.”
“What secrets?” I ask.
“Sometimes secrets are best left buried.”
I know that’s true. I’ve got my own that need to stay hidden, so I don’t press him. “And sometimes they stalk us.”
He reaches out for my hand, saying, “You know you can tell me anything. I’m not going to judge you.”
“You’re not my priest. I don’t need to confess my sins to you.”
“How’d you meet my father?” he asks, refusing to give up.
“I was part of the cleaning crew that cleaned his office at night. He worked late a lot.” Softly, I stroke the back of his hand. “He asked me out.”
“Just a normal date?” he asks.
“Yes, but I wasn’t interested for a lot of reasons. For one, he’s old. I told him I didn’t have time to date while raising Finn. That I worked every day and most nights. That’s when he offered to pay me for my time.” He tilts my chin up, forcing my eyes to his. “That night with your father—That was the first time I’d ever done anything like that.”
I can’t place the emotion I see on his face as he realizes I wasn’t a call girl. It’s not only relief but something else too.
“So no one ever paid you for sex?” he asks. “Any kind of sex?”
“No, and I’ve never stripped or anything either.” I cup his face in my hands. “You saved me that night.”
“No,” he whispers. “I was such an asshole. Shit, for weeks, I was such a bastard.” He looks up at me with those sapphire eyes of his. “Why didn’t you just tell me? Why’d you let me think you were a . . .”
“Whore?” I say, finishing his sentence. “Because it didn’t matter that I didn’t do it. I would have. I’d already made the decision to.”
“Paige,” he says so
ftly, wiping a few tears from my cheeks I didn’t realize were there.
“My mom was a prostitute my whole life. She slept with all kinds of men for money, for drugs. I guess you live by example. In my heart, that’s who I am. A whore, just like my mother.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“But it’s true,” I sob. “And I was a cheap one, at that. You said yourself I should’ve charged more.”
“Stop it,” he barks.
“I was willing to sell my body for five hundred bucks.”
“No, you were willing to sell your body to save Finn,” he says, capturing me by my arms.
I collapse into his chest. “I promised him,” I say. “I promised that he’d have a better life than mine. I promised him I’d do whatever it took.”
“I know,” he whispers, stroking my hair. “You’re a great mother. He’s so lucky to have you. So many mothers say they’d give anything for their kids, and you proved you would.” He pulls back, staring into my eyes. “You told me you never had sex for pleasure,” Slade says.
“You thought that meant it was always paid,” I say. “It wasn’t.” He knows what I’m telling him. His eyes close, his hands ball up in fists. “I always put up a fight,” I say. “Sometimes, I lost.”
“Who? How many have there been?” he asks, his voice in a controlled anger. “How old were you?”
Shaking my head, I say, “You don’t need to know any of that.”
“You mean you don’t want to tell me.”
“I mean, you don’t need to know. You know I grew up poor, abused, and neglected. The details aren’t important. Unfortunately, my story is the same as thousands of other girls. I don’t know one single girl who grew up like I did that escaped without having someone touch, fondle, or force them into doing something they didn’t want to.”
“I hate this,” he cries. “I hate thinking of you hungry or hurt or worse.”
“Then don’t think of me like that,” I say, placing his hand on my cheek. His blue eyes soften. He’s getting it. I don’t want him to think of me that way, either.
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