Macey was right before. We come from different worlds. I’ve never faced the challenges she has. Never experienced the level of grief she has. I grew up happy. My father taught me to think and act like a man. My mother showed me how to love. What did Macey get? Heartache. Broken promises. Financial instability. Fear. Letdown after letdown. And what did I do? Added to it. I rub my face with both hands.
“It may be too late,” I say.
“You really don’t know anything about the inner workings of a woman, do you?” She laughs. “Love isn’t a choice. And if Macey feels the way I think she does, she just needs a gentle reminder.”
My mother just restored my diminishing confidence. “You’re amazing.” I drag her into my arms and give her a kiss.
Twenty minutes later I’m on the road, exceeding the speed limit and probably breaking a couple of other traffic laws. I make Corpus in record time.
—
Spending four hours at the house with the realtor has given me all the motivation I need to make an offer on the property. With my stellar credit and a significant down payment, the house is practically mine. I rush home, fully committed to the second step in my plan. I take Simon for a quick walk, set him up in the mudroom, then head to the kitchen.
I’ve been seriously deliberating taking my GED tests for over a year. I’m already registered online and have paid the $135 fee. There are four tests—math, science, social studies, and language arts. I can take two on Wednesday and two on Thursday at the Del Mar College Test Center. And with the internet, the scores are almost immediately available. I don’t want to enter into a professional partnership with Renee without having a high school diploma.
I’ll never forget where I came from. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to move on, to better my chances in life, to live up to my potential. Joshua helped me realize that. I know I teased him relentlessly about being an Ivy Leaguer, but in all honesty, I respect him for it. I felt so insignificant on Valentine’s Day when Julia questioned me about my educational aspirations. Dwarfed by the doc, a clinical psychologist, and a business genius, all I could do was tell the truth. Joshua tried to rescue me and Bishop was a complete gentleman, but I saw the contempt in Julia’s eyes. Felt it in the pit of my stomach.
I scroll down the website page and hit Register for tests. There. Come Wednesday morning, my ass will be parked in a chair for four hours.
Time to call Robyn—she’ll kill me if I don’t tell her what’s going on.
She answers on the second ring. “I’m pretty mad at you,” she says.
“What did I do?”
“Where to start?” she sighs. “Leaving me hanging. What’s the latest with Joshua?”
“Nothing has changed since Valentine’s Day. We’re still broken up. He showed up at Roper’s last night, punched the cowboy I was dancing with.”
“Really?”
She’s such a gossip fiend, especially since she quit dancing. “Broke his nose.”
“Who was he?”
“Dale MacRae.”
“Oh. My. God. The rodeo star?”
All right. This is getting so irritating. Even she knows him. “Why does everyone know who he is?”
“Duh,” she laughs. “TV, newspapers, radio…”
“Well, he’s definitely not going to be the pretty boy he used to be.”
“Did Joshua apologize?”
“In a roundabout way.”
“How?”
“I woke up with Simon’s kennel next to the couch.”
She squeals. “Macey,” she starts. “That’s the sweetest thing in the world. He loves you.”
“That may be going a little too far. He cares. And I think someday we may be friends. But for now, I’ve decided to undertake a few projects.”
“You’re not leaving again, are you?”
“No,” I assure her. “I just put an offer in on a house a few blocks from here. It’s beautiful. I can’t wait to show you.”
Another high-pitched scream of enthusiasm. “I can’t believe you’re willing to move out of that ridiculous mansion.”
“And…”
“Wait,” she says. “Do I need to sit down?”
“Considering you’re a pudgy pregnant lady, probably.”
“Remind me to smack you next time I see you.”
“I’m going to invest in Renee’s catering company and take my GED.”
“Are you manic?”
I laugh. “Maybe.”
“That’s so incredible. Wait until I tell Garrick and Marisela. We need to celebrate.”
“Now who’s looking for an excuse to throw a party?”
She giggles. “Dinner tonight?”
“Sure, baby girl. What time?”
“Seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
Why didn’t I do this years ago? The answer is obvious. I wasn’t ready. I invested all my time and resources into being super-stripper. Believe me, I’m great at it. I know how to entertain men, how to talk to them, how to dress for them. That’s the legacy my father left me with by dumping me in Darren Starr’s office when I was a kid. The man who shot craps with sugar cubes when he was young because he didn’t have any dice. I recline in my chair, waves of memories crashing over me.
The alcoholic who smacked my mom around, then broke her heart. The asshole who didn’t do anything after his gaming partner raped me. Dad blamed me. And I never forgot that. It made me numb. Shallow. That’s how I found the courage to take my clothes off the first time onstage. I capitalized on my pain, turned it into something else. And after my father died of advanced syphilis, I didn’t care. Hate took over again. I gladly spent his money, taking lavish trips, shopping in the best boutiques, and living in denial. Not anymore.
The doorbell rings.
I heave a sigh, disappointed by the interruption. I open the door, hoping it’s someone I can get rid of.
“Macey…”
My heart skips a beat. It’s Joshua. “What—”
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he crashes into me. I let out a little oh before his hungry lips claim mine. Our tongues spiral together violently. I close my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, clinging to him for dear life. I’ve desperately missed him. And this…My legs start to shake. He releases my lips, moving his mouth to my ear.
“I missed you.”
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Why?”
“After last night…”
“Some of your fans from the club tried to get us back together and invited me to show up—I didn’t know you were interested in other guys already.”
I give him a small smile. “At some point if we’re not together, Joshua, we’re both going to move on.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But not right now.” He sounds so tormented. “It’s too soon, and quite honestly, I’m not sure we’re done yet, Macey. Are you?” He tickles my lower spine, his green eyes flashing down at mine.
“No.” He’s right. “But I’m terrible alone.”
“Then don’t push me away.”
“But you…”
“I was wrong.”
Should I tell him about the deep grief I’ve felt since we broke up? How I can’t sleep? How I’m trying to cover everything up? Then he kisses me. Stupid hormones. That’s what takes over. Gone is the resolve to stand on my own two feet and conquer the world. Gone is the need for space and time. His touch triggers a revolution between my legs. A second invasion by his tongue and I’m ready. I nod and he scoops me up, kicks the front door shut, then races up the stairs.
We tumble on the bed, our arms and legs entwined. My T-shirt and bra are quickly removed, followed by my warm-ups.
“No panties?” he growls.
“Commando.” I shrug, remembering his own preference.
That earns me a breath-stealing kiss. His fingers find my pebble-hard nipples, first pinching, then gently circling my areolas. I reach between his legs, feeling his hard length
, unzipping his shorts. He springs free, filling both of my hands. I squeeze, gently milking him. He groans, and I get super-excited, squeezing harder. He kicks off his sandals. I urge him onto his back, applying more pressure, enjoying the heat and feel of his smooth skin. Time to take his clothes off. I rise to my knees and tug down his shorts.
Then I crawl between his legs, nudging them wider, until he’s spread-eagle. His eyes burn with desire as I suck him into my mouth. He hits the back of my throat and I nearly gag. I wrap my right hand around his base and begin stroking in perfect unity with my mouth, sucking and petting. Nibbling and tickling. His legs tremble as he grabs two fistfuls of my hair, forcing me to look up while he’s still buried in my mouth. Shit. What’s he going to do? Control has eluded me. And even though I’m on top, I know who retains the power. He always has.
“I want to watch you swallow me.”
I suck him in deeper, my eyes never leaving his. With his hands still resting on my head, he powers forward, sliding in and out of my mouth. After several hard strokes, he groans and throws back his head. I close my eyes, reveling in his salty-sweet taste.
Before I can think, he pulls out. “Not so quick, darlin’. You don’t get all the fun.”
I’m flipped onto my back, my legs neatly spread. He hovers above me, his hands planted on either side of my face. He dips, sweeping his tongue across my lips. I automatically open up to him, waiting for that crazy tongue to connect with mine. I love his mouth. His lips twitch as he gazes down at me.
“Macey…” He shakes his head, giving up. Instead, his tongue and fingertips work my nipples, rolling them between his fingers, pinching them so hard I cry out.
Then he begins a languid trek down my body, his tongue agitating my already too sensitive skin. When he reaches my center, he wastes no time—his thumb plunges inside and his fingers and tongue plunder my clit. My hips buck in retaliation. I bury my hands in his hair, close to ripping it out by the roots. My response only increases the intensity of the assault. Replacing his thumb with two fingers, he inhales me, nibbling and suckling my clit relentlessly until I explode.
Days of pain and neglect are soon forgotten, replaced by joy and heat.
I whimper, writhing wildly underneath him. He eases his fingers out, but continues to lick and hum, the soft reverberation of his throat acting as a natural vibrator, increasing the magnitude of my orgasm. When the jolts of pleasure begin to subside, I’m quickly introduced to the next phase of pleasure. He impales me in one solid thrust, stretching and filling me to capacity.
“Wrap your legs around me, darlin’.”
I do as he asks, and he penetrates deeper. “Joshua…”
“Shhh,” he says, silencing me.
Then I’m gone—completely consumed by the man I thought I’d lost.
Chapter 28
I’m overwhelmed that Macey’s needs match my own. Every inch of my body is alive to her touch. She finds her release a third time, sapping my energy. My hot seed spills inside her—another piece of my soul forever given over to her. After several minutes, I recover, roll onto my side, and pull her against me. She’s short of breath, slick with sweat and our sex. She nuzzles against me then, leaving a trail of kisses up my neck. My skin prickles, my cock standing at attention.
“Again?” She raises her head, staring at me in amazement.
“A mind of its own.” I grin, knowing I could ravish her all night. But I don’t want to make the wrong impression. I’m after much more than her perfect body. I want to own her heart and soul, too. I caress her arm, hoping she’ll relax so I can address the many important issues we have left to discuss. So much has happened and I don’t know where to start. At the beginning, I remind myself. “Tell me you’re happy.”
She shifts, supporting her head with her hand so she can see me. “Deliriously so.”
I instinctively reach for her nipple, tweaking it until it puckers. She recoils, a smile playing about the corners of her lips. “Is that all you ever think about?”
“With you…”
She follows suit, caressing the tip of my shaft. I playfully slap her hand away. “Is that all you ever think about?”
“Touché.”
“Ah—smart enough to yield when you know you’ve lost the game.”
“Is this a game, Joshua?” Her joyous expression fades.
“No games,” I assure her, cupping her cheek. “I owe you so much, starting with an apology for ever doubting your loyalty.”
She swallows. “What do you mean?”
“Certain facts have come to light…”
She pulls away, sitting up. “You mean…”
“Let me clarify—you and Bishop never did anything together. Julia drugged you.”
“What?” She’s justifiably pissed off. Her whole body stiffens, and her gaze grows dark. “What did that crazy bitch do?”
“After I left for the club, she raided Bishop’s medicine cabinet. She laced your wine with Ambien. That’s why the two of you passed out on the couch. She staged you.”
“Is this based on pure speculation?”
“No,” I say. “She’s confessed to everything.”
Macey scoots off the bed, visibly shaken. Then she starts pacing. I knew this would happen. “Out of nowhere she just pops over and declares her guilt?” She stops, crosses her arms over her chest, and gives me a challenging look.
“Not quite.” I sit up now. “Bishop called last night and asked me to come over. He explained everything and showed me his pill bottles. Apparently she even stole one of his prescription pads.”
“My God.”
I sit on the edge of the mattress, planting my feet on the floor. “Everything is going to be all right now.”
“Is it?” she rumbles. “I lost ten days of my life because of her—my relationship and job—nearly my sanity.”
“I know.”
“Do you know what it feels like being accused of something you can’t remember doing? Bishop and I were so ashamed while we tried to piece together what we could remember. Only after we inspected our underwear did we finally realize we didn’t have intercourse. But that didn’t alleviate half the guilt and grief I felt. I was convinced something happened. And you…” The pacing commences again. She picks a vase up from her dresser, then slams it down, whirling around to face me again. So angry—so unbelievably vulnerable. “You never gave me the opportunity to explain myself—to apologize—to do anything but accept whatever judgment you passed. Oh, Joshua.” Tears spill down her cheeks.
I start to get up, wanting to comfort her.
“No!” She waves her hand at me. “Coming over here and seducing me doesn’t make things better—it complicates them more. I spent days trying to manage the pain of being without you. And where is Julia now?”
“With Bishop.”
She scowls. “Doing what?”
“Preparing for rehab.”
“Rehab?” she repeats incredulously.
“She’s a drug addict, Macey. And severely depressed. Blame me. I was too wrapped up in my own life to take notice of the change in her.”
“You mean too busy fucking my brains out.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Don’t tell me what to say or think.”
“Macey.” I get up and rush to her side. “Stop.”
“Rehab? I get drugged and she gets slapped on the wrist. What kind of justice is that? I’m thinking jail time—a little public humiliation is the dose of reality that bitch deserves.”
“That’s just rage talking, Macey.”
She sucks in a breath. “Maybe it is. But you never gave me a chance to get angry until now. Why didn’t you call last night? Why didn’t Bishop call?”
“Because we wanted to handle the situation discreetly. Making this a public case will victimize more than just you and Bishop. Think about her parents and great-aunt. Bishop’s family, my family…reputations are at stake.”
“How convenient,” she spits. “Macey
the stripper doesn’t have one—so fuck me.”
I grab her arms, giving her a gentle shake. “I’m sorry I misjudged you. Sorry I didn’t trust you.”
Rage still shows in her eyes. “Did you see her?”
“I picked her up in Kingsville this morning.”
“What?” She wiggles out of my grasp. “You rescued her before you came over here? So there’s a hierarchy after all. The privileged few stick together. Then you show up and fuck me senseless, hoping I’ll accept whatever plans you made for Julia. Never mind my feelings. Never mind your obligations to me. I’m a victim. Not Julia Henderson.” She races to the other side of the bed, scooping my clothes off the floor. “Here.” She throws them at me. “Get dressed, Joshua. You know where the door is.”
“Baby…” I chase her down the hallway, but she disappears in the guest bathroom and slams and locks the door. I knock. “Open the door.”
“Go away.”
“Goddamnit, Macey. After everything we just shared.”
“Breakup sex means nothing.”
“That wasn’t breakup sex. Open the door, now.” I’m getting angry.
“I’ll stay in here all night if I have to.”
Emotions are running high. I’m tempted to break the door down. “Please come out,” I whisper, hoping a gentler approach will work.
“Get out.”
I retreat, returning to her bedroom. I heeded my mother’s advice, laid everything on the line, only to be kicked in the teeth. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Give up? Accept banishment from her life without a fight? I need time to think. After I’m clothed, I head downstairs. I want to destroy something—I clench my hands into fists, gazing up the stairs.
Sin Page 19
