“Where I come from someone’s body language could mean the difference between life and death. One shifty fucking stare could mean you’ve got four seconds before someone strapped with C4 explodes in your face. The second Polly started talking to you it was like you wanted to jump the fuck out of your skin.”
“I don’t like talking about it and you can’t make me. Just because you’re used to bossing around men on the battlefield or wherever you came from. I’m not one of your men.”
I run my hands over my head wishing my hair was longer so I could pull it from my fucking scalp. This woman is infuriating. What the hell is she hiding and why the fuck am I so damn desperate to figure it out?
“I’d like to go home now,” she whispers.
“Celia—”
She cringes and squeezes her eyes closed. “Please, Aden . . . I don’t want to do this anymore.”
I stare at her, her usual stiff spine hunched over, her hands balled up in her lap. Whatever is hurting her is more serious than simply coming back from vacation a different person. I know what it’s like to carry around shit inside that’s not suitable for public consumption and I understand how it feels to have people beg for information you just can’t give.
I know what it feels like to have something living inside that eats away at your sanity. They call it trauma, a deeply distressing experience, but God . . . it’s so much more. It’s alive and breathing, it eats and rarely sleeps, it’s a monster that demands attention and never ever gives in. I understand hurting in a way that feels incurable, and no matter how many times people offer to hear it out, to take some of the burden, the idea that anyone would ever really understand the pain is laughable.
“All right.” I hold out a hand and she takes it so I can help her to her feet.
We walk in silence back to the truck and even though she’s not communicating with words she’s giving off some serious back-off vibes.
I can’t expect her to share with me.
But maybe we can help each other forget. If only for a little while.
SAWYER
Agoraphobic?
What a bunch of bullshit!
Why would Celia share those things about me? Just because I didn’t have the social life she had and spent my weekends at home watching movies doesn’t mean I’m a damn mental case. Sure there was a time where I didn’t leave often but Celia was halfway across the world while I was suffering. And I worked through it eventually—thanks to therapy.
I’m so sick of feeling like just because I’m not as free and uncomplicated as Celia there’s something wrong with me.
Did your sister finally snap and lock herself in her house like you predicted?
We hadn’t spoken much at all before she came home and yet she’s making predictions about my life. I rub the center of my chest hoping to push back the weight of betrayal.
This is what she thinks of me, and I’m giving up my vacation time, my pride, my freakin’ identity to help her out! And I’m lying to someone who I’m starting to care about, all for my sister who spoke about me like I’m some Howard Hughes freak show.
No, I’m not doing this! I won’t. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to Aden.
I’m telling him. Tonight. I’m going to confess and tell him who I really am.
He deserves to know. This charade has gone on long enough, and why I thought I would be able to pull this off, to live wild and unburdened for even a short amount of time was a joke.
This is the most burdened I’ve ever felt, and pushing against all my fears, smothering all my instincts is exhausting. I don’t have it in me to lie. It’s only been days and the guilt is smothering.
And Aden . . . he’s been so good to me. Sure he’s moody, but that hasn’t bothered me much. I’ve been flat-out lying to his face since the day we met, and something tells me he’s not the kind of guy who’ll forgive that kind of thing easily.
He pulls his truck up to the cottages and figuring he was just going to drop me off, I’m surprised when he shuts off the engine.
“You don’t have to walk me—”
He turns to me, the intensity of his eyes silencing me immediately. “I think we can help each other out.”
“What does that mean?” My voice sounds breathy even in my own ears and I can’t control the quickening rise and fall of my chest.
“That thing . . . whatever it is that you don’t think I’ll understand . . . I know what it feels like.”
“How could you—”
“I have it too.”
To anyone else what he said would sound ridiculous, but for me it’s as if he’s reading my soul and understands the words. “You do?”
There’s no way a man like Aden could understand what it’s like to struggle between who he is and who he’s trying to be. That every day I spend as Celia only makes me more frustrated at being Sawyer. But I can’t change who I am, no matter how much I want to. The guilt and the self-hatred is crippling and I’m so lost in who I am and who I wish I could be that somewhere along the way, I’ve lost my way.
His gaze turns tortured and pleading. “Let me help you.”
“How?” I force myself to breathe, feeling light-headed at the way he’s staring at me, as if I’m the key to something he’s desperate to unlock.
I’m frozen, tangled and consumed by his penetrating presence. He leans in and as if we’re magnetized I mirror his movement. His hand cups my jaw so gently, his fingers sift into my hair and I press into his palm, fitting into his hand as if I were made to be there.
“I know the struggle,” he whispers, his gaze locked on mine in an unbreakable bond. “I can help you let it go.” He slides the quarter I gave him earlier into my palm. “If you’ll let me.”
I want that, I want to release all the back and forth, throw my hands up and succumb to every desire I’ve managed to suppress.
I don’t have to flip the coin to know I want to get lost in Aden’s touch without a single thought to the consequences. That’s what I want.
But there’s something I need to do, he needs to know the truth. He deserves—
“Don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop.” Our breath mingles as the way our eyes are locked together robs me of coherent thought. He flashes a tiny smile before he kisses me.
My eyes shut as the heat of his mouth invades mine. I’m caught in the power of his lips as they draw me in. Consumed, dominated, all the reasons why I should pull away dissolve with every slide of his tongue. My thoughts scramble and sink, leaving nothing but my desire for more. Every nip of his teeth and brush of his callused thumb against my sensitive skin is like a soothing balm to my overactive thoughts.
I loop my arms around his neck and he moans into my mouth as I crawl closer. My leg gets stuck on the stick shift and he chuckles low and deep, the vibration humming against my lips.
He uses both hands in my hair to pull my mouth from his and I’m panting, pathetically, and hating the space between us. “What?”
“You’re eager.” He licks his bottom lip as if savoring the taste of my mouth from his. “I wasn’t expecting that.” His crooked smile makes my belly flip-flop.
I should probably be embarrassed, but he’s ignited something in me that refuses to take a backseat to anything else. “You started it.”
“I did.”
I push hard against his hold to get my lips back on his where I whisper, “Then finish it.”
He groans and his hips flex into me. “Not here.”
I kiss a trail down his jaw enjoying the bite of his stubble against my skin.
“Fuck, I’d kill anything that got between me and that mouth.” He lifts his chin, directing my attention to the middle of his throat. “You feel too good.” His fingers grip my head, pressing me lower. “Keep going.” I tug at the neck of his shirt. His pecs contract with every brush of my lips.
I dart my tongue out to lick along his collarbone and my eyes slide closed at the spicy, salty taste of his skin. I lick at him again, t
hen pull the firm flesh into my mouth hoping it’ll leave a mark.
“Enough.” He pops the handle of his door and slides out so quickly I almost fall forward after him. His hand stops me from face planting and he practically lifts me from the truck and sets me on my feet. “Inside. Now.”
“You like ordering me around.”
“Fuck yeah I do.” He kicks the door closed behind me, then presses me back against it. He buries his face into my neck and nips at the sensitive skin. “And you like taking my orders.”
I blink up at the stars while he peppers my neck with kisses. There is something nice about trusting someone enough to know I can do what I’m told and he’ll take care of me. Then there are no lists, no overthinking, but rather a complete release of power. The idea is intoxicating. “Yes.”
“I can tell.” More kisses up my jaw. “On the boat, at the bar, and now . . . you relax when I take control.”
I do? “I do?”
“Mm-hmm.” He licks at my earlobe. “It’s fucking beautiful.”
I’m breathless in his arms.
“Your place or mine?”
“M-mine.”
He grabs my hand and just like that he’s tugging me down the paved pathway to Celia’s cottage.
ELEVEN
ADEN
Stumbling through the door to Celia’s place, I tell my body to calm the fuck down but my hands aren’t receiving the message. I don’t want to scare her away by pawing at her like a teenage boy. This isn’t a drunken fumble-fuck where we both race to the finish line. I want to go slow, make her feel cherished. It’s what a girl like Celia needs, and I can give her what she needs.
I want to erase the anguish I recognize in her eyes. That look is one I see in the mirror daily, and though she may not be happy about being my distraction, I’m fucking eager as shit to be hers.
She drops her keys on the coffee table and the sound serves as a big fat green light. I pounce.
She squeaks as I bury my hands in her hair and delve into a kiss that has my pulse pounding in my ears. Her mouth is warm and sweet and the whisper of perfume from her skin is a buffet for my senses.
Walking backward, I guide her through a maze of boxes and piles of things that need to be packed until we’re at the doorway to her bedroom. I can’t pull my lips from hers, so I pop open an eye and spot the bed. Pressing her back and down, she grips my biceps as I lower her to the mattress. I follow her down, making sure to hold up my weight to avoid crushing her.
“Where’s the light?” I whisper between breaths. “I want to see you.”
She motions to the bedside table and, reaching over her, I click on the lamp. It’s dim, but it’s enough that when I peer down at her she blushes. Actually fucking blushes. The last girl I was with who blushed was my high school girlfriend. I brush my thumb along her cheek. “What’s this for?”
She shakes her head and turns away, her skin growing brighter, and fuck if her modesty isn’t a damn aphrodisiac. “I’m not used to feeling like this.”
“Embarrassed?”
“No.” Her head turns back to me and she meets my eyes. “Out of control.”
I nip at her lips, needing to feel them. “When was the last time you felt out of control?”
Her breath hitches as I kiss down her chin to her neck. “Th-the boat. Fishing.”
I blink and pull back, studying her. “And the time before that?”
Another furious blush. “So long ago that I don’t remember.”
I can’t help the slow grin that spreads across my face because it feels fucking fantastic to be the only person who’s made her feel wild. “And I’m only getting started.”
Her muscles tense and I don’t miss the flash of panic in her eyes.
“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. I’m content to kiss you all night if that’s what you want.” I push her hair off her face and kiss the tip of her nose. “When was the last time you had sex?”
Her nose crinkles up and she turns away from me only to have me gently maneuver her face back to mine. “Don’t get shy now, freckles.”
“I lived with my ex just days before I came to San Diego.”
I try to hold back my surprise, but that was not the answer I was expecting.
“We were having problems long before we broke up so sex wasn’t something—”
I press my thumb to her lips. “This isn’t couples therapy, I don’t need the details. Just a number.” I release her mouth but run the pad of my thumb along her thick lower lip and resist the urge to bite it as punishment for giving herself to some dickwad douchebag who didn’t appreciate what he had.
“A month.”
“What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Having you under his roof, sleeping in his bed, he doesn’t touch you for a month?”
“He wasn’t the type—”
I cover her lips with mine and finally sink my teeth into her plump lip. She whimpers and her nails bite into my skin. “No more talk of that idiot.”
“Okay.” She breathes out hard and her entire body turns to jelly beneath me.
“I want you, but we’ll take it at your pace.” I lean in and kiss her until she’s squirming beneath me. Her hands slide up my side, nails dragging along my ribs, and my hips jack forward of their own will.
I break the kiss just long enough to pull my shirt off over my head. Her gaze slides over my chest, down my abdomen, and widen at the bulge behind my pants. Hunger flares in her eyes and a slow smile curls my lips. Something tells me her pace will be faster than I thought.
We are a tangle of arms and legs, tongues and teeth, and before I’m even aware of what’s going on she’s slipping her tank top over her head. I follow her freckles down to her breasts where they disappear behind the black fabric of her strapless bra. I fist my hands to keep from helping her as she reaches behind her back and unhooks the bra before letting it fall to the bed.
Oh God, those gorgeous specks of color are everywhere and I plan to taste every, fucking, one.
I pull her lips back to mine and absorb the feeling of her bare breasts pressed against me. My heart hammers against my ribs and I have a brief moment of insecurity wondering if she can feel how affected I am by her touch.
Even if we’re using each other as a distraction, what a sweet fucking distraction this is.
I cup her ass, grinding against her and wanting so badly to feel her completely naked and bared to me. Her body is soft and round in all the right places and all my blood rushes between my legs until I’m painfully aroused.
She rolls her hips against me, the motion so erotic it makes me light-headed. A soft whimper vibrates up from her throat.
“You good, baby?” I whisper against her lips.
“No.”
What? I pull back to see her face only to find her eyelids heavy and her mouth curved up into a seductive grin.
“I want more.”
Sweetest words I’ve ever heard.
SAWYER
I can’t believe how bold I’m being. But I can’t help but feel like Aden’s holding us back.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate him thinking I need to take things slowly, I do. And this is without a doubt the hottest make-out session I’ve ever had and probably, I’d venture to guess, in the history of the world, but it’s starting to feel like the world’s worst tease.
My skin is practically vibrating, my body aching, and my legs falling open just to get him closer to me.
I reach down and rub him over his jeans and groan when I feel just how much he wants me too. I pop the buttons of his fly and he must take that as an open invitation to do the same to mine. My jeans are tight, but he manages to slide his big hand between my legs just as I grip him over his boxers.
Our breath mingles as we pant in unison while stroking each other.
“I’m not the type of man who begs.” He hisses through his teeth when I grip him tighter. “But I’m begging, please, let me fuck you.”
His dirty mouth
has me clenching down around his fingers. “Aden . . .”
“I can feel you want it as bad as I do, freckles. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I can’t.”
With a growl he flips us so he’s holding himself over me. Pushing up to his knees, I lose his hand, but keep my grip on him. His abs contract with every pump of my fist as he watches me pleasure him.
Mark and I always made love in the dark under the sheets. After our faces were washed and our teeth were brushed, and after the evening news. It was like clockwork. Safe. Predictable. Everything I thought I needed. I’ve never been with someone like Aden, someone so overtly sexual and open about wanting to see everything that happens between us. It’s the most arousing thing I’ve ever experienced.
“You like to watch.”
His eyes slide from the vee of his open fly, up my bare torso, dance between my less than impressive breasts, my lips, then he stares me in the eyes. “I like watching with you.”
“Why?”
He bites his bottom lip while toying with my nipples. “Mmm . . . ’cause I don’t ever want to forget a single detail. Don’t even like closing my eyes when I kiss you.”
“You’re sweet.”
“I’m not.” He leans over me and flicks my breasts with his tongue, making me arch off the bed. “You’re sweet. So fucking sweet.”
He shifts off me to stand at the end of the bed. With a little help from me, he manages to peel my jeans off until I’m lying completely naked and exposed. His eyes devour me while he fishes in his back pocket and pulls out a condom. He drops his jeans and kicks them off, then hands me the foil packet. “I want to watch you roll it on. Nice and slow.”
I scramble to my knees and do exactly what he asked, thinking I’d never found condoms the least bit sexy before, but somehow Aden makes protection placement feel like foreplay.
The room is quiet except for the sound of our eager breaths and the occasional moan as I slide the condom over him. Being this close I start to wonder what he’d taste like there and craving the salty—
I’m pushed back to the bed and he follows me down.
“You lickin’ those lips while staring at my dick is going to make it impossible for me to go slow.”
Wrecked Page 13
