I smile over my shoulder. “You like it?”
“I like everything about you.” He closes his eyes, a small smile rested on his lips.
My feet float me into the bathroom, a few inches off the floor, and I shut the door quietly, but quickly. At my reflection, I stare, trying to understand if I heard what I think I just heard. It feels like I could cry, like it’s not real… but why? What part of me thinks I don’t deserve to have these feelings? To be told I’m beautiful by the man I’ve loved since I’ve known him. There is a part of me that can’t take this in, and that part wants to sob and crawl into a corner. It’s the part of me that knows I need to tell him.
“Brendan, we met before. We didn’t get along. I touched your lips. You yelled at me. I yelled at you. You said you wanted to stay far away from me. I called you an idiot. You chased me into the street. Why did you do that, by the way?” After whispering these things to myself, I look to the closed door and decide now is the time. With my heart pounding, I walk to put my hand on the doorknob and open it. I pause. My head feels woozy and my hands are clammy, but I know I have to do it now. I can’t live with knowing I have a secret from him, when I can plainly see that we are falling in love. For real. Not just a schoolgirl’s crush. Really falling in love… together.
Cracking open the door, I try to inhale, but I can’t breathe. Propelled solely by will power, I step into his bedroom, naked and getting ready to bare my soul, too. I step onto the softness of the rug, but he doesn’t lift his head to smile. Walking closer, I hear a light snore coming from his parted lips. I stand by the bed and gaze at his sleeping face, knowing I can’t wake him like the nurses did. He needs to sleep through the night. He needs to heal. I can’t be selfish and upset him tonight after all he’s been through.
My confession can wait. I know I’ll tell him. There’s no longer any question. I will just wait until he’s better, and when the time is right.
Climbing into the bed, I pull up the blankets over both of us, tucking him in and lying beside him with enough space for his wounded body to be safe from sleeping twists and turns. I turn on my side and slide my hand under my head to watch him sleep, see his chest rise and fall easily.
I stayed like this for awhile and fell asleep against my will, just to wake around two o’clock and find that sometime in those hours, his hand found mine. I unweave our fingers to make a trip to the bathroom, being quiet and letting myself live between dream-world and reality, never fully waking up. Climbing back into bed, I weave my fingers into his again. He gives mine a squeeze from his subconscious and I fall back asleep, happy.
THE END OF PART 4
TANGLING HEARTS
Rebecca
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
________
“We need more wood on the fire.” Tommy casts a sideways glance to the flames, now licking the air with far less height and frequency. His thick fingers are wrapped around the bottle of wine and he pours the dark red liquid into his glass with diabolical slowness. It’s extremely fucking unnerving.
I can’t tell if he suspects I was lying to him; that twinkle in his eyes could mean anything. I suddenly know what a fox feels like cornered by a hound, and like one, I have to be sly. Get him off my scent. Make him believe me. So I strut over to him and touch his crotch, rub my hand down the length of his zipper. “I think we have enough wood, don’t you?”
He grins and throws his head back with a loud laugh. “That we do.” Still smiling, he walks to the phone and dials, waiting for the front desk to answer, his eyes on me. “Could you send more wood to Room 10, please? Thanks.” He hangs up, throwing me a sexy smirk.
I lower my eyelashes and look through them. “I’m glad you came back. What was I going to do, sit here and go to sleep? How boring.”
His eyes glitter as he comes to me and runs his fingers through my hair, pulling me to him for a hard kiss. As his tongue touches mine, part of me wants to shove him off, but the other submits to his skill. He’s such an amazing kisser that goose bumps run down my body. My hands slide up his chest, responding to him, my body reacting almost against my will, but when I touch his shoulder, he winces and pulls away, the left one thrust back farther than the right, like it’s the only one damaged. This confuses me.
“Careful now.”
“Sorry.” I stare at his shoulder. “Just the one?”
His hazel eyes darken as he cocks his head in a way that looks dangerous. “They’re both sore. Why would just the one be? That wouldn’t make sense.”
I nod, unconvinced. “Oh. Right.” I reach out to touch it. “It seems like you’re favoring this one more than the other.”
He grabs my hand. “Now, now.”
I frown. “I was just going to massage it, Tommy.”
The corners of his eyes relax and he steps away to pick up his glass, tossing my hand aside. I step over to the edge of the bed and lean on it, gripping the sides, thinking how best to handle this man, and if that’s even possible.
“Sorry, Bec. I’m not used to…” But he doesn’t finish, obviously hesitating to divulge too much.
I thought Brendan was guarded, but Tommy has him beat. He’s like an untamed horse. That’s what makes him so sexy, the dirty wildness that oozes out of his pores. But caution is necessary around anything wild. You have to earn the trust of the beast before you’re safe to go near it.
“What were you going to say, Tommy? I’m interested.”
His mouth twitches as he drinks the wine, then sets it down.
I take that as a door slightly squeezed open, and continue, “What aren’t you used to? A woman caring about you the way I care?”
He frowns, glances to me and turns to the window, walks to it, taking his time as he opens the curtains a little to look out. What a body. His ass is fucking perfect and his posture is strong and sure. In a deep voice, almost inaudibly, he says, “I’m not used to being around someone with good intentions. When you went to touch me, the first thing I think is ---” He’s quiet for a second, then, “That you wanted to help me… I’m not used to that. But your motives aren’t all pure, are they? I know it’s not really me you want, Bec. I know you’re just using me.”
I stiffen. “Tommy…”
His hand goes up to stop me, but he’s still looking outside, his face away from me. “Don’t.” He waits a second to turn around and when he does, the spark is gone from his eyes. It’s a dramatic difference from how he normally looks, like all the light has vanished and made him normal, almost sad. “I know how you feel about Brendan. I know I’m here because he isn’t.”
The look in his eyes is crushing. Never did it occur to me that by using Tommy, I might hurt him. Unsure of what to say under this new revelation, I run my tongue along the inside of my front teeth, staring at him. Does he really care about me? Has he all along, and I didn’t know?
He glances to the floor, touches his wrist, inspects his hand, then nods. “Thank you for not denying it. But guess what? I don’t care. You know why I don’t care?”
Slowly I shake my head, my breasts rising with shortened, nervous breaths. I’d give anything to walk over to my wine glass so I could coat my dry throat with liquid courage. I try to speak, but I can’t. I have no idea what to say, being confronted like this and thrown by such a shocking turn. I’m looking at Tommy with new eyes, the possibility of him being more than a way to get back at Brendan occurring to me for the first time. So what if he’s only thirty, if that? I wouldn’t be lonely anymore. If I could care about him the way I care about his friend, then all my problems would be solved. Now if I could just get my heart to agree.
Tommy walks a couple steps toward me. “I don’t care, because the first time I saw you with Brendan, I knew you were better than him.” He holds his palms up in front of him like a scale. “It didn’t balance up. He’s here. You’re here. See?” One slow measured step at a time, he comes closer, my heart weightless as I watch. “You may not see it, because you don’t know me, yet. But I’m up here with
you. Water rises to its own level. That’s why we’re here together now. This…” He motions back and forth between us. “This is even.”
“I’m a lot older than you,” I whisper.
“You think I give a fuck about that? You’re a finer woman than any I’ve met, Rebecca, at any age. Look at you!” He swiftly turns me around to face the mirror above the fireplace. Embarrassed, I look at the floor, but he kisses my shoulder and whispers, “Look at us.”
“Tommy, this is silly.”
“You’re beautiful. Look!”
I raise my eyes and catch sight of our reflection. The way he’s looking at me gives me the gift of seeing myself differently. I see beauty glowing from his eyes into mine, peeling away the downward spiral of being a childless, single woman in her early forties. Through his gaze, I see vibrancy, sexuality… worth.
“Breathe, Bec.” He kisses my shoulder again, sending a sensual shiver drifting into my skin. His hands hypnotically massage my hips. “Come over here.” He leads me to the window and pushes open the white gauze curtains with one hand, slipping his other hand under my dress and into the back of my panties to slide them off, down my legs. I put my hands on the window frame, holding steady, my body aching to be touched by talented hands like his, excited by the exhibitionism he’s proposing, and nervous as hell about it at the same time. His fingers slip into me and he moans at how wet I am. “Well, look who’s ready,” he whispers into my ear, the heat of his breath making me gush. I move against his hand. He unzips his jeans, letting gravity take them down before he kicks them off. With me watching the night out the window, I hear him sliding a condom on and tossing the wrapper aside.
A couple approaches on the sidewalk outside the window, down below about twenty feet. I notice they’re not holding hands or even talking. Both of them have their phones in their hands. They look disconnected. Unhappy. They remind me of Jack, my ex-husband, and me. But I’m not where they are anymore. And my body opens more at this knowledge, feathery sensations billowing out, because I’m no longer in a sexless marriage. I’m free. The man walking below looks away from his phone and my breath catches as I think he just might see me.
“Tommy…I don’t know about this.”
“Let them look up.”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do,” he says on a chuckle, his right arm reaching around and fingering me, his left hand gripped onto my hip. My body is betraying me, my hips moving of their own accord. He groans as he slowly pushes into my aching pussy. He’s throbbing. It’s wrenching any inhibitions I have away. Growing excited by being on display, I watch the street below, wondering if they’ll look up. This building is so beautiful; surely they’ll admire it and catch us in the window.
My legs bend with his, our bodies pounding together faster as I lose myself. I clutch the window frame as I moan, the sounds of us fucking, mingling together and turning me on even more. He’s grunting, and his fingers move faster in circles as I cry out. He slides in and out, astonishing me with the pleasure his rock-hard cock is giving my body, filling me up and making me beg him to keep going. I begin to laugh, deep and wicked. I know he’s smiling, too, from the groan he just gave. My eyes lock with the man’s on the street as he looks up at just the right moment, the woman he’s with, not noticing. He says nothing to her, and looks away, but his eyes sneak back to peek from the corners. I smile, arch my ass up and Tommy thrusts into me harder, knowing we’re being watched and loving it. I slam my hand flat against the frame and scream out, an orgasm ripping me in half. The stranger stares at me and just as his woman turns her head, I close the curtains and Tommy laughs and shoots into me with jerking, hammering, convulsions that make me want to go all over again. I love the sounds men make when they cum. He pushes up and strokes me one last slow time before he pulls out and kisses my neck.
“You just made his whole year,” Tommy chuckles as he heads for the bathroom.
My hands are still up on the window, and I’m looking over my shoulder at him with my dress askew, my eyes on his retreating bare ass.
You just made mine. “Let’s shower together,” I call over, dropping my hands to adjust the dress.
He glances to the side, not enough to really look at me. “Another time.”
I walk over to my wine glass and take a sip as I hear the shower turn on. The tannins in this Zin are a bit too dry to swig and I’m longing for some water, but fuck it. Who cares? I have a whole lifetime to drink water. A man more than a decade younger than me and hotter than the Arizona sun just fucked me in a window. I walk to the mirror to get a gander at what satisfaction looks like. The omnipotence I felt in my early twenties stares back at me, and I give myself a playful wink, whispering, “Welcome back. Where the hell have you been?”
But when Tommy comes back, he’s naked only from the waist down. He’s still got his shirt on, even though he just showered. That’s more than a little odd. The perpetual refusal to go all the way nude is beginning to nag at me.
“Something wrong?”
“What? Oh… no. Nothing is wrong. I’m just tired, I think. It’s been a long few days.”
A knock at the door pulls both our attention and instantly a muffled voice calls, “Firewood!”
Tommy’s deep voice rises to say, loud enough to be heard. “Leave it outside.”
We hear a thud, then, muffled through the thick door, “Okay. It’s here. Need matches?”
Tommy looks at me. I shake my head. “Nope. We’ve got it!” he bellows back.
“Kindling?”
Tommy rolls his eyes. “We’re fine!”
He stares at the door until footsteps fade away on the other side, and then he turns to me with an amused face. “Maybe that guy on the sidewalk told him there was a show in Room 10.”
“Mmmhmm. You’re staying over, right?”
Tommy’s eyes dance again, and he strolls over to me, cock swinging. “Is that what you want?”
“I do.”
“Then hell yes.” He searches my eyes, leans in and gives me a deep kiss, reaching up to stroke my breast. “Do you have any Advil in your suitcase?”
“I don’t. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’ll man up.” He smiles and goes to the door, peeking out first to see if the hallway is empty before bringing the firewood in, bare-assed. I laugh, watching him tiptoe like a goofball, acting silly and wiggling his butt in the air, before he closes the door with his foot. “I haven’t made a fire in years. I love this!”
“Oh good, because there’s something very sexy about a man building a fire.” I slip out of my dress and crawl into bed to watch him stoke the fire, but I can’t stop staring at his shirt. With him bent over throwing in the two logs, I note every time he winces and adjusts his body, squatting down on one knee. He’s definitely favoring his left shoulder, so why did he lie and say it’s both?
“What about you staying another night in town?” He stands up, the flames rising behind him in growing red and orange flicks of heat. “Do you have to be back?”
I smile, pulling my hair to the side and out of my way. “I have a lot of people waiting on me, for my charity work. But I could stay another day. Why not?” My smile spreads into a grin as he climbs in bed. “Don’t you want to take that off?”
“I get cold at night,” he says, pulling the blankets up.
“I’ll keep you warm, you sexy beast.”
He grins at me, and wraps his legs around mine. “It’s a thing I have. I like to sleep with my shirt on. Just forget about it, okay?”
“Okay. That’s fine.” His eyes are weighted down and I glance quickly to the wine to see the bottle still a quarter full. There’s no way he’s drunk. “You look really tired.”
“I’ve been sick, remember? I’m still getting better, so maybe we should just sleep a little. I’ll ravage your body in the morning, if that’s okay. Don’t worry, it’s not contagious.” He leans over and kisses me, sensually licking my tongue with his before collapsing back on the pil
low, a frown piercing his forehead as he lands.
“Of course. Rest up.” As I watch him close his eyes, I add, “Maybe we could go to Golden Gate Park tomorrow. You don’t have to go back to work yet, right?”
He smiles, but his eyes stay shut and he turns his head away. “That’s true. I’ll probably go back to work in a couple days. The park sounds great. We’ll do a picnic.”
I smile and close my eyes, letting the weight of the past days fall off me as exhaustion takes me into a wonderful, dreamless sleep.
Brendan
4:00 A.M.
Lying on my back.
Blanket: halfway up my waist.
Tent: popped.
________
I’m looking at the woman lying beside me, sleeping on her stomach, her arm a little twisted because her fingers are laced through mine. I woke up like this, but I don’t know if I held her hand in the night, or she, mine. What I do know is not once have I looked forward to when she’ll leave, which is what I always think about when someone spends the night. I’m normally itching to have my space back and start my day in my own way without having to look out for someone else. Rebecca was the one exception. I’d gotten used to spending entire weekends with her only because she was coming in from out of town and it was just four to five times a year, so it made sense. But I had to get used to it.
This… with Freckles… feels easy. Really easy. Sometime last night I decided to stop fighting it. To be here with whatever this is, and stop trying to figure it out, like she said to. When we guys make a decision to be in, we’re in. I guess that’s where I’m at right now, which is crazy, and very, very… cool. You don’t realize you were missing something until it shows up.
She looks very peaceful, her expression dream-laced. I’ve visually traced every eyelash, every freckle, every angle of her, and what’s wild is there’s nothing I’d rather be doing. I want to take her again. I’m hard right now. And she’s got those lips I have to kiss. But watching her sleep, I make myself leave her alone. About ten minutes ago, she frowned, and it took me squeezing her hand to make it go away. She’s been through a lot. She got hospitalized from exhaustion, after all. I assumed it was from the shock of everything that happened to us, but when she made that comment about the size of my bathroom, I realized I don’t know her financial situation, haven’t seen her apartment. I thought because she owned the bar that she was flush, but that comment made me second-guess the assumption. When money-stress comes into play, it can rip you to shreds. Having involuntary reconstruction and subsequent closing of her only source of income has to be insanely stressful. So, I won’t wake her.
Hearts Series Bundle: Books 1-6 Page 32
