“Holy shit, that lake was cold,” I mutter as the water cascades over me. Feeling returns to my toes in a thousand painful needles. “Fuck, my toes hurt.”
Mila moans in agreement next to me and honestly, we just stand under the water for another ten minutes, with our eyes closed and without speaking, just enjoying the warmth. When the door fogs over and I am no longer shivering, I turn to Mila.
She is naked and wet and gorgeous, but I don’t care at the moment. All I care about is one thing.
“You thought I was going to hit you,” I say simply. She looks guilty as she turns to me, her skin a healthy pink now.
“No,” she protests quietly. “It was just a reflex. I just reacted.”
“So you didn’t think I was going to hit you?” I raise an eyebrow. “Because you flinched.” She drops her head.
“I don’t know what I thought.”
I suck in a breath at her honesty and am deflated at the same time. Reaching out, I tilt her chin up with my fingers.
“I don’t care how mad I am, I will never hit you. Do you understand?” I stare her in the eye. “Not ever.”
She swallows and looks at me and her eyes are so wide and green. “I’m sorry,” she tells me. “I don’t know why I would think that.”
And there is something in her eyes that gives me pause.
“Did your dad hit your mom?”
The question hangs between us and she stares at me. And then she nods slowly.
“Not often. But sometimes. I saw it a few times. He slapped her, she slapped him. They had a very passionate relationship.”
“Holy shit,” I mutter in shock, before I pull her to me. “Mila, even one time is too many. I will never hit you. I need you to believe that.”
She nods silently, and I see that she’s crying. And I don’t know if she’s crying about her dad and mom or if she’s crying about our fight on the boat.
I drag her more tightly against my chest, dropping my lips to her forehead. She is pressed against me, wet and firm. I slide my hands around her back, cradling her tightly.
“Mila, I will never hurt you. Not like that.”
She nods and reaches for me and just like that, we are inhaling each other, like we need each other to breathe.
Her tongue plunges into my mouth and my hands are everywhere on her body, sliding up and down the smooth wetness of her back, and down over her hips. I suck her lip into my mouth, pulling it with my teeth. She whimpers into me and I inhale it, enjoying the sound.
Desperation hangs heavily around us, a consuming need. I whirl her about, pinning her to the stone shower wall, pressing into her as I plunge into her mouth yet again. I could taste this girl forever and still not have enough.
She brings her leg up and hooks it around my hips. My hands slide up her thighs to cup her ass, her amazingly perfect ass, and she wiggles into me, pushing ever closer. My dick is wedged against her and I know she feels it.
Hard.
Wet.
Warm.
“I want you tonight,” she tells me in my ear. Her teeth nip at my earlobe. “Please, Pax.”
I groan and pull away, looking at her.
“I thought you wanted to wait?”
She smiles an endearing and wicked smile.
“Fuck that,” she says. “I want you now.”
I crush her close again and pillage her mouth, and her lips are so fucking soft against mine. My fingers slip inside of her and she gasps into my mouth, panting softly. She tastes like sunshine.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” I rasp against her throat as I kiss a trail down to her full breasts. “So beautiful.”
I slip her breast into my mouth, sucking softly. She pulls at me, clutching me, thrashing, her hands scraping down the shower stones. Her breath is coming in pants now, I can hear it, jagged and raw.
I move to her other breast and suck there; teasing her, enjoying it. Her skin is wet and soft and when she opens her eyes to look at me, her gaze is unfocused and wild.
She wants me. That notion is almost incomprehensible to me. She wants me just as I want her. I groan and bury my face in her neck.
Her hand is on my dick and it throbs in her hand, hot and heavy. I want her like I’ve never wanted anything. I moan and she smiles as she slides her hand up and down the length of me.
“You’re so big,” she murmurs softly.
My, what big teeth I have.
I am once again the wolf as I hover above her, her back shoved against the tiles. She is innocent and beautiful. And I am….not.
I don’t deserve her. I swallow hard.
“Do you want me?” I ask her, my lips just a breadth above her.
She nods, her eyes squeezed shut as she runs her hands over my back and down my hips.
“Then open your eyes and say it,” I instruct her raggedly. “Say my name.”
Her eyes flutter open and she stares into mine.
“I want you,” she murmurs. “Pax.”
My tongue twists around hers, wet and hot. I may not deserve her but she wants me anyway. My gut clenches.
“Say it again,” I tell her quietly.
She looks at me with her wide, green eyes.
“Pax,” she breathes. “I want you.”
“Fuck,” I mutter and pull away from her for only a moment, to reach out the door and pull my wallet from my pants on the floor. I fumble with the condom and then I am back under the water, pulling her against me.
And then I slide into her.
Light explodes behind my eyelids because she feels so fucking good. So wet, so fucking tight. I could die right here and never regret a thing.
Mila gasps as I push into her, and then she clutches my back, pulling me to her.
“You feel so good,” she whimpers into my ear. And warmth tightens my chest.
I groan and try to focus on anything that will prevent me from coming already, but I know it’s useless. Her tits are smashed against me, wet and soft, and every time I slide against her, the friction brings me that much closer to the edge.
She pulls me closer and in this moment, I know that she is everything that is light and good in the world.
I slide in and out, the heat between our wet bodies driving me to madness.
“I’m going to come,” I rasp against her wet neck.
She opens her eyes and looks at me.
“So come,” she says simply.
And then she buries her tongue in my mouth and I can’t stop myself. My dick pulses inside of her and she clenches around me. I breathe raggedly as I hold her to the wall, and after what seems like an hour, we both slide to the floor. She’s in my arms and the water is beating on us.
I can’t even speak. I just hold her in my lap, cradled to me, and the moment seems huge. We sit this way for the longest time, until the water begins to turn cool.
Mila lifts her head.
“That was amazing,” she murmurs. She pulls away a bit and strokes the side of my face. I lean into her hand and close my eyes. “You’re beautiful,” she adds. My stomach clenches.
“I’m not beautiful,” I answer. “Far from it.”
“You are,” she insists. “You’ll just have to take my word for it.”
I shake my head, but I don’t release my grip on her and she lays her head back against my chest.
“The water is getting cold,” she says drowsily. Her legs are entwined with mine as her body drapes against me. She doesn’t seem to care about the water, but we’ve both had more than our fair share of cold water for the day.
Reluctantly, I sit up and pull Mila to her feet. I lead her from the shower and towel her off before I head to my bedroom and find her a t-shirt to wear. I pull it over her head and stare down at her.
“Stay with me tonight,” I urge her. “You’re tired, I’m tired and it’s cold outside. Just stay here.”
She grins up at me.
“That was the plan all along,” she answers impishly. “I have my overnight bag in my car at T
he Hill.”
I stare at her. “You mean… you were going to… tonight?”
She laughs. “Spit it out, Pax. It’s not that hard to figure out. Yes, I was ready tonight.”
I have to chuckle and shake my head.
“Do you like to keep me guessing?” I ask her as I drag her to the bed and onto my lap.
She nods, her green eyes glimmering. “It keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?”
I lower my lips to hers, silencing anything else that she thinks she’s going to say. Covering her body with mine, I push her onto the softness of my bed and trail my lips down her neck, then down her arms to her hands. I kiss her palms and then glance up at the windows.
“There’s a winter storm blowing in across the lake,” I tell her, and she turns to watch it with me.
“It’s a good thing we’re not still out there,” she points out as we watch the dark clouds build and roll in across the water. Lightning flashes across the blackness and the air seems charged with the power of the storm.
I glance down. “It’s a good thing. It’s definitely more comfortable being naked here.”
She giggles and pulls me down to her, her tongue in my mouth again. I decide that it’s where her tongue always belongs. My hands slide to her ass, bringing her leg up around my hip.
“This is where your leg belongs,” I tell her firmly. She smiles against my lips.
“That might make walking difficult,” she answers, as she trails her fingers down my back.
“We’ll figure it out,” I growl and I slide my fingers inside of her. She whimpers and arches against my hand, just as the thunder cracks outside. And then our talking dies as a storm of our own rages in my bedroom.
Chapter Sixteen
Mila
The last thing I think about before I cross the hazy threshold into sleep is that Pax’s arms are so strong and warm. And safe.
I’ll never forget what it felt like when he dove into the lake after me and pulled me to safety. The stupid coat was weighing me down and I couldn’t get it off. He probably saved my life. It’s ironic that he is so reckless with his own life, but seems so protective of mine.
I snuggle more closely against him, against the strength of his chest. My face is pressed against his heart, and it beats loudly against my ear. It’s that thrumming cadence that soothes me to sleep.
And then I dream.
I look down and find sunlight bathing me, glimmering over my skin.
I’m in the church again.
But this time is different.
Instead of the black dress that I wore to my parents’ funeral, I’m wearing a white one. A simple cotton shift that is basically transparent. And my father is sitting in the front of the church, in place of the caskets. And instead of sunlight shining in, he is sitting in the shadows.
My pulse races because this is the first time either of my parents have appeared in a dream. It’s so good to see my father’s face. I rush down the aisle toward him, but my feet will only move one speed. It’s so frustrating because I want to run and my feet just won’t cooperate. But eventually I reach him.
I stand in front of him and simply stare. He’s wearing his favorite faded green flannel shirt and broken in blue-jeans, the ones that he always used to work in the yard in.
He smiles.
“Hi, peanut.”
“Hi, daddy,” I eke out. I have a lump in my throat that I can’t seem to swallow. “It’s so good to see you.”
He smiles the same smile that I have seen a million times over the years and holds his arms out. I fold into them and he smells just the same, like Old Spice and mints. I inhale and cry and hug him tight.
But after a few minutes, he pulls away.
I stare at him, at the large hands that have held me a thousand times, that have bathed my dog and pushed my bicycle and slapped my mother. I gulp and stare into his eyes.
“Daddy, why did you hit mom?”
He seems startled and holds his hands up, palms up to the sky.
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Because I’m not perfect. Your mother and I should’ve gotten some help with our marriage. We loved each other, but we were unhealthy together. I’m sorry you saw that.”
“How can you love someone, but still hurt them?” I ask, and as I do, I feel the tears streaming down my face. Dad reaches over with a large hand and wipes them away.
“That’s a travesty of life,” he tells me softly. “Sometimes we hurt those that we love the most.”
“But you should never hurt someone in that way,” I tell him. “Having that kind of temper is being a coward.”
Dad stares at me. “Maybe I was a coward, then. But I was still a good person who just happened to have a bad temper. I love you, peanut.”
I feel rooted to the ground and then numb as realization floods over me. Somehow, for some reason, pieces click into place in my mind and I suddenly know what these stupid dreams have been trying to tell me all along…with the black and white caskets, the sunshine and shadows.
Life isn’t black and white. People aren’t all good or bad. I’ve concentrated so much on the meaning of life after my parents’ passed that I forgot that fact, because deep down, even though I didn’t acknowledge it to myself, my parents’ volatile relationship was hard on me. And I guess I judged them.
Truly, though, life is just a mixture of good and bad, of varying shades of grays and whites and blacks. I think that I’ve always been afraid of getting into a relationship with someone because I was afraid I’d end up in the same kind of relationship as my parents’ or that I’d make a mistake.
But life is all about mistakes.
I swallow hard and stare at my dad.
“I love you, daddy.” He nods, his eyes full of kindness and love. “I miss you.”
“I know,” he answers. And even though he is sitting still, he begins to fade, until he is no longer here and I am alone.
But I’m not alone. I can feel Pax’s presence, even though I can’t see it. I turn and he isn’t there.
And then I’m awake. I’m staring into his eyes.
“Are you okay?” he whispers. “You were dreaming.”
His arms tighten around me.
“I just had the strangest dream,” I whisper. “I dreamed about my dad for the first time since he died. I asked him why he hit my mom and he basically said that he was flawed. But he was still a good person. He and my mom should’ve gotten counseling, but they never did.”
Pax stares at me, his golden eyes warm in the shadowy room.
“You’re right,” he finally says. “A person can be flawed, but still be a good person, or have a good heart, at least. Where is this coming from? Because I asked about your parents earlier?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve had a weird recurring dream since they died and I think this has always been one of the things that my subconscious has been trying to tell me. I struggled after they died, I missed them so much, but I also resented them because of their relationship. They loved each other- to distraction, almost- but they weren’t healthy together. They didn’t communicate well.”
Pax stares at me. “Did your dad ever hit you?”
I shake my head immediately. “No. I was spanked a few times when I was a kid, but actually hit? No. They were good parents. Their problem was that they always pushed each other’s buttons until things escalated beyond their control.”
Pax is already shaking his head.
“Nothing is ever out of your control,” he argues. “Not in that situation. You were right, though. Your parents’ should have gotten help. I’m sorry that they didn’t.”
I close my eyes and snuggle against him again.
“I think my dream was a message to me, somehow. That everything will be okay, and that I should trust my gut. My gut tells me that it’s okay to be with you. You and I aren’t my parents and our relationship won’t be the same as theirs. No one is perfect and you have issues to deal with, but we’ll get t
hrough it, Pax.”
He startles, I can feel it. He’s stiff against me now.
“You think your dream was a message from your father that it’s okay to be with me?”
I shrug again. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He shakes his head. “No way. It’s not that I don’t believe in that kind of thing, but there’s no way your dad would give his blessing for you to get involved with me. No way in hell. You dreamed what you want to believe that he would say to you. You’re just trying to make sense of things. We stirred up your memories tonight, so it’s normal.”
I refuse to let him sway me though.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree. But for now, let’s just go back to sleep.”
And so we do. Pax tightens his hold on me and I fall asleep in his arms.
When I wake, he is still asleep next to me. His arms are still tightly wrapped around me. I don’t think we’ve moved at all. I blink from the sunlight that is pouring through the windows. I am so comfortable that I don’t want to get up and close the blinds. But if I don’t, I’ll never go back to sleep.
And I’m just not ready to start the day. I want to stay in bed with Pax a while longer.
I carefully extract myself from Pax’s arms and crawl out of bed, padding to the windows. I find the strings that pull the shades closed and start to pull. As I do, I glance down at the lawn behind the house and I freeze.
An icy feeling spreads from the base of my spine all the way to my neck as horror ricochets through my ribcage.
There is someone lying on the lawn, out in the cold and wind. I peer closer, staring at the pale leg, spiky high heel and mousy brown hair.
Jill.
What the hell?
My hand drops from the blinds and I cover my mouth with it.
Jill isn’t moving and her body is sprawled at an unnatural angle. Her face is turned away from me, toward the lake, but she is too still. The wind moves her hair across her face, but it is the only thing moving.
“Pax!” I shriek, running to shake him. “Wake up. Wake up! Jill is on your lawn.”
He leans up groggily, trying to clear his head enough to realize what I’m saying. Realization finally crosses his face and he lunges from bed, and we both run to the back lawn.
If You Stay (Beautifully Broken) Page 14
