by M. S. Parker
“I don’t want to go home yet,” I said, my voice more steady than I thought it’d be.
“Do you…want to see my place?” His fingers tightened around my hand.
I nodded. “But there’s something you need to know first.” I barely waited a beat before blurting it out, “I’m a virgin.”
His eyes went wide, but only for a fraction of a second. “I have to be honest with you,” he said, color flooding his face. “I’m not.”
“I didn’t expect you to be,” I said in a rush. “And I don’t want to make a big thing out of it. It’s just that if things go that far tonight, I didn’t want you to be, well, surprised.”
“We don’t have to go that far.”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for saying that…but I want to. I wanted to last night. Just not in a car.”
He laughed, a warm, full sound that made my insides squirm pleasantly. “No, you definitely deserve better than a car.”
I called up my best mischievous grin. “For tonight anyway. I’m not opposed to fooling around in a car in the future.”
He stared at me, irises going heated and dark. “Please don’t say things like that when I’m driving, or we’ll end up in another ditch.”
It was my turn to laugh, and the sound carried with it the undercurrent of arousal I felt through every inch of me. I loved that I could affect him that much. I loved that he wasn’t going to pressure me into anything I didn’t want to do.
And I had the strangest feeling that I’d already fallen in love with him.
By the time we reached his place, I was certain of it.
“You should have seen this place when Hunter Enterprises first bought it,” CT said as he led me up the front steps and into the lobby. “I made a deal with my dad in high school that I’d work part-time for the company if I could choose the department. I did some office work the first two years. Then, junior year, we bought this building. It was falling apart. Dangerous. I decided I wanted to work with the construction crews hired to fix this place up. One of the things that’s always set us apart from other businesses like us is that we don’t outsource. We have our own crews – electricians, plumbers, construction guys, specialists, you name it – and they never have to worry about lulls. We always have something for them to do.”
We stepped onto an ancient-looking elevator, and CT pressed the button for the top floor.
“Anyway, I worked my ass off on this place, enjoying the research and restoration as much as the physical work. The piece I wrote about progress and the loss of history was what got me into the journalism program at NYU. And it got my name to the right people at the Times. I wrote it because of this place.”
I loved the way he was telling his story. Pride at the work he did, and the people his family’s company employed, without a hint of false modesty or apology.
“When I told my parents I was going to NYU, I wasn’t worried about paying for school because my grandparents had set aside money for me for college, and it was completely my choice where to go. I planned on living on campus to save money for an apartment after I graduated. My dad surprised me though. He said he knew how much I loved this building, and he’d just sold it. He introduced me to the new owner who offered me the top-floor loft rent-free if I managed the place.”
My jaw dropped as I stepped off the elevator and into a beautifully renovated loft. I wasn’t much of a fan of the current home décor or architectural trends, which meant this classic look was exactly the sort of thing I loved.
A skylight. Wide, open spaces that included the kitchen, living room, and bedroom. Only the bathroom appeared to be closed off. It wasn’t as messy as I would’ve thought a bachelor pad would be, but the little things here and there made it lived-in.
“This is so much better than my dorm room,” I said, turning in circles to take it all in. “And definitely better than the front seat of a borrowed car.”
He laughed as he caught me around the waist, the sound cutting off as his mouth came down on mine. Here was the hunger and heat we’d experienced last night, and now we had no reason to stop. No one would interrupt us. Whatever we did would be because we both wanted it.
And to hell with anyone who had a problem.
Our clothes dropped to the floor with barely a whisper, our lips moving together even as he walked me backward toward his bed. We fell in a tangle of limbs, skin against skin, hands exploring as sensation threatened to overwhelm. My brain struggled to process each new bit of information.
His palm skimmed my breasts, and I gasped into his mouth.
Our tongues danced together as I buried my fingers in his hair.
A large hand palmed one ass cheek, squeezed.
My nails scraped over one taut nipple, and he cursed.
I was on my back, and he leaned over me, hands on either side of my shoulders. When he kissed his way down between my breasts, then took the time to tease my aching nipples with his mouth, I squirmed under him. I’d never felt a need like this before. Vast and all-consuming, as if nothing could meet it.
His fingers slipped between my thighs, and my hips jerked. I closed my eyes, fingers curling at the pleasure rippling out from where he stroked me. I was so turned on that I was practically dripping, but I couldn’t find the energy to be embarrassed by it.
“Damn, baby.” CT’s voice was hoarse. “Are you that wet for me?”
I nodded, then moaned as a shudder went through me. I was a virgin, but I’d explored my own body enough to know that I was going to come soon. He kept talking, encouraging me, coaxing me further along the edge, and then slipped a finger inside. He cursed, easing his finger in and out until my muscles relaxed and he could insert a second finger. The entire time, his thumb didn’t stop moving back and forth across my clit, building that pressure inside me until I finally came with a shout.
My muscles were still quivering when CT settled between my legs, but my eyes and mind were clear when he asked me if I was sure. I answered him by wrapping my legs around his waist, resting my heels on the backs of his knees. The tip of him brushed against me, and his eyes closed.
“You’re going to kill me,” he said, voice strained.
I swept his hair back from his face, my hand lingering on his cheek. “I will if you don’t get inside me soon.”
He opened his eyes as he entered me, inching his way forward until his pelvis rested on mine. My breathing came in harsh, desperate gasps and my hands shook. I didn’t have that sharp, tearing pain that I’d always heard about, but I was a nurse. I knew anatomy well enough to know that the full, tight discomfort was natural, and it would pass as I relaxed.
I was surprised at how easy it was to do just that, but even that melted away as CT rocked back, and then forward. The heat between us sparked into flame, flowing over our skin, between us, around us, creating a cocoon of brilliance that grew brighter and brighter until it shattered, and we shattered with it.
If I hadn’t accepted it before, I knew it now. I was in love with CT Hunter, and my life was never going to be the same.
Eighteen
Blake
Evening, December 24rd, Present Day
Hudson Valley, New York
“Grandma Olive said that she watched them at the party,” Slade said, “and by the time they left, she knew that Dad and Mom were meant to be together. She told Grandfather that if he would’ve listened to her then, he wouldn’t have wasted so much time trying to change things.”
Silence filled the room as Slade finished talking and we all worked on this new information.
I’d spent the months since meeting Brea dealing with all of the emotions I’d stuffed down for twenty-five years, but even with the woman I loved at my side, the anger hadn’t gone easily. Sometimes, it even came back with a vengeance I didn’t expect.
Like now.
How could our grandparents have kept stories like this from us? How could they have stood by, day by day, and not realized that their stories of our p
arents were all some of us had? Maybe Grandma Olive had had a legitimate excuse to wait. We’d been children, grieving the losses of our parents and sister. Grandfather though, he’d had more than two decades to tell us what he knew, and he’d kept it all to himself.
“I can’t believe I didn’t remember that before,” Slade said, reaching over to take Cheyenne’s hand. “All this time, that memory’s been in my head.”
“You shouldn’t have needed to be the one to tell us,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even. “Grandfather should have told us. He should have made sure we knew all about them.”
Brea leaned against my shoulder, and her presence steadied me.
“We should have talked about them more,” Jax said. “I’m sorry about that, Blake.”
“We can’t change the past,” Cai said, “but we can try to make things better.”
Jax nodded, concern lining his forehead. “Cai’s right. We’ll talk about them, tell you what we remember.” He held Syll tighter. “We’ll tell you all what we remember.”
Another minute of silence followed his pronouncement, and then Syll broke it. “I think this has been enough for tonight. It’s getting late.” She smiled widely, but she couldn’t completely hide the strain around her eyes. “Besides, Santa won’t come if we don’t go to sleep.”
Slade laughed, and it was a familiar sound, an old sound. He was falling into his previous role as the easy-going brother, the one who diffused the tension with jokes and laughter. The flash of pain in his eyes was quick, but I saw it.
“No, Slade.” I leaned forward and looked at each of my brothers in turn. I wasn’t eloquent, but I would get my point across. “We’re not going to fall back into bad habits, blaming each other, pretending. I don’t want to be that person again, and I don’t think any of you do either.”
Cai got up and came over to where I was sitting. He crouched down in front of me. “You’re right. We won’t just shove all this aside, I promise.”
“We all promise,” Slade said, relief written across his face. He stood and held out his hand to Cheyenne. “But Mrs. Hunter over there has the right idea. Let’s call it a night, have a nice Christmas, and then start tackling this stuff again.”
No one else said much of anything, but we did follow his advice, each of us making our way back to our rooms in virtual silence. I didn’t know how much the others were talking about what had just happened, but I didn’t want to talk about it at all.
One of the things I loved the most about my beautiful fiancée was that she had the uncanny ability to know when to push me and when to let me work through things for a bit on my own. Right now, I needed some time on my own, and Brea let me have it when she claimed the bathroom first.
This wasn’t right. That was the thought that kept going around and around in my head. But as my anger faded, I began to realize that the thing nagging at me wasn’t because of my grandparents or my brothers or the stories I didn’t know. Something was…off.
“Are you okay?” Brea asked as she came out of the bathroom, a concerned expression on her face.
“Just thinking,” I said as I took her in my arms and let the familiar feel of her body, the scent of her, ease me.
I wondered if I’d ever touch her and not wonder how I’d managed to find this woman. She believed in fate and destiny, but I’d never even considered those possibilities until she came into my life. There was no other explanation for why this gorgeous, brilliant, sweet woman loved me. Why she was wearing my ring and carrying my child. Our wedding would be New Year’s Day in Boston, our honeymoon an Alaskan cruise, and then back to Rawlins, Wyoming. We’d probably visit Boston once more before our baby’s birth this summer, but our life would always be centered in our home in Wyoming.
“Was it a mistake to come here?” I asked, the words muffled as I kissed the top of Brea’s head. Her raven-black curls were soft against my lips.
“No.” She tipped her head back, and I let myself fall into the dark pools of her eyes.
I’d never known that a woman could hold sway over me, but from the moment I first met her, I’d been captivated. I’d also been pissed, but the fact that my anger hadn’t scared her away had only set her apart from anyone else I’d ever known.
“You can’t believe this was a mistake,” she said, reaching up to put her hands on my cheeks. “The memories are going to hurt, but you’ll never forgive yourself if you push everyone away again.”
“I know.”
I buried one hand in those wonderful curls and dropped the other to Brea’s firm ass. She ground her hips against me, and I slammed my mouth down on hers. She pushed up on her tiptoes, her tongue battling mine even as her hands moved under my shirt, nails raking across my skin.
I wanted nothing more than to push her against the wall and be inside her. A few quick moments were all it would take, and I could lose myself in her. She wanted it too. Her mouth was demanding, her hands eager. Her nipples were hard bullets through her filmy nightgown. The new, slight swell of her belly only fueled my desire. Not that there was anything that could make me not want her. It was like a physical ache, this need.
Then her hands were pushing instead of pulling, and I immediately released her. She hadn’t used our safe word, but I’d felt the urgency in her touch. I took a step back, far enough to give her space, but close enough that I could react if she needed me.
Her eyes were closed, one hand on her stomach, the other on her mouth.
“Are you okay?” It was my turn to ask her the question, this one more urgent with concern.
She nodded, and I waited with her, trusting her to tell me if there was anything I could do. Her morning sickness hadn’t quite gotten the memo about what time of day it was supposed to appear. It came and went without any sort of pattern, and while it didn’t last long, when it hit, it hit sharp and fast.
Finally, she opened her eyes and offered me a weak smile. “Rain check?”
“Of course,” I said as I reached for her, my sole focus now on comfort rather than sex.
I hated seeing her sick and hated even more the fact that it was my fault. How women survived this more than once, I’d never know. That had been one of my biggest fears since I’d learned she was pregnant: that the pregnancy would make her resent me and I’d lose her.
If I was completely honest, even the moment I’d proposed had been filled with similar fear. Her parents had raised her in an unconventional, open, free-love environment, and while she’d never embraced that lifestyle, I couldn’t help wondering if the idea of a more-or-less traditional family was simply a ‘grass is greener’ mentality. A daydream she only thought she wanted.
What if, after we got married and the baby came, and she realized it would be just me and her for the rest of our lives, she decided that her parents had it right after all. What if she wanted more than I could give her?
What if I wasn’t enough?
Nineteen
Brea
Night, December 24rd, Present Day
Hudson Valley, New York
I splashed more cool water on my face and concentrated on my breathing. The bouts of nausea I’d been having – no ‘morning’ sickness for me – were intense, but mercifully brief. Mint tea sometimes helped but I didn’t think I’d need it this time. I was already starting to feel better. Still, I stayed in the bathroom a bit longer, embarrassment and frustration warring for the top spot.
Blake had been amazing these past couple months. People who only knew him as the gruff, often foul-mouthed recluse who preferred horses to people wouldn’t have believed how gentle and tender my fiancé could be. A muscular six feet four inches, he could look every bit the scary mountain man, but from the moment I’d told him I was pregnant, he’d handled me with kid gloves.
While I appreciated all he was doing to take care of me, I missed the rough, dominating man who’d introduced me to a world of pleasure I’d only heard about. I’d asked my doctor specific questions to ensure that nothing would harm the
baby, but even with that, Blake had refused anything that wasn’t soft and sweet. I enjoyed that sort of making love, but he and I had been brought together with the kind of passion and fire that ignited infernos.
When I thought about how he’d taken me the first time, on his kitchen counter during our first date, it twisted things inside me. I wanted that back. For a few minutes, I’d thought I would finally have it again, but my stomach had had other ideas. Even if I went back out there and told him I felt fine, he’d insist on coddling me.
In the logical part of my brain, I understood where he was coming from. Losing his parents and twin at such a young age had traumatized him more than he’d even acknowledge, especially considering he’d been in the car when it’d happened. Survivor’s guilt wasn’t strong enough to describe what Blake had been experiencing the last twenty-five years. Even though he’d never put it into words, I knew he was terrified that something would happen to me and the baby. He’d never forgive himself if anything he did hurt us.
That was logic, and it should have been what I listened to, but common sense wasn’t being particularly friendly to me lately.
The closer we got to our wedding, the more often dark thoughts plagued me. One especially strong one was coming through loud and clear right now.
I wasn’t going to be enough for him.
Our relationship had more to it than sex, but the physical attraction between us had always been strong, even when we’d been furious with each other. We’d had difficulties staying away from each other almost from the moment we’d first met, and it hadn’t taken long after that for Blake to share the less vanilla side of his sexual needs. Needs that hadn’t been getting met recently.
