Hurting To Feel (Carpool Dolls)

by Abby Wood

  His voice, barely audible, cracked and he struggled to inhale through the tightness of his chest. He had no relationship experience, no education that taught him right from wrong, and he lacked pretty words to give her. He only knew the truth.

  He pulled his feet under him and shifted to stand. Addison reached out and put her hand on his thigh. He froze. The heat from her palm seared him through his jeans.

  Afraid to reach out, he waited for her to say something, anything, to put him out of his misery. He'd purposely left out how she was the only one he needed. The only one who made him feel complete. The only one who ever gave a damn about him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Nathan's admittance shook the foundation of Addison's stance on never seeing him again. She slid off the bed and climbed onto his lap. One leg on each side of him, she cupped his face and forced him to look at her.

  "You are worth my begging," she whispered. "I might not understand the reasons you've done things or will do them in the future, but I know how I feel when I'm with you."

  She ran her hands down his cheeks, her thumb swept over his lips. "The only way you can hurt me is by giving yourself to someone else."

  He opened his mouth. She shushed him. "That's my only condition. Your hands, your anger, your attention, your frustrations, your…love, can only be given to me. So, despite your warnings and trying to scare me, I'm going to beg. I need you to take care of me. You were born to love me. If you want to argue that what you have inside of you isn't love, I want to fill your days and nights for the rest of my life arguing back with you that what I've experienced in the short time we've been together, you've given me more love than I've received in all my life."

  "Addy," he mumbled. His hands tightened on her hips.

  A flutter curled in her lower stomach and warmed her soul. She moistened her lips and brought her mouth to his ear. "I don't know if I've ever been loved, but if I had to guess what love felt like, I'd say it's a lot like how I feel when you hurt me. Because that hurt demands me to feel and when I feel, it's the most wonderful experience in the world."

  She pulled back, needing to see him. His eyes, bloodshot and full of hurt she couldn't even comprehend, begged her silently, and she had to kiss him. She laid her lips on each eyelid, his cheeks, and his chin.

  He hooked Addison's neck and pulled her down until their foreheads rested together. Tremors wracked his body, and she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. Unable to think of what he needed from her, she kissed him with a desperation meant to take all his pain away.

  She'd never experienced the degree of neglect he'd lived through. And, she didn't need to know the details because he'd shared more with her than she imagined he'd ever shared with another living soul. For that reason, she molded herself around him, holding him in the way he always enjoyed and accepted the way he crushed her against him.

  Finally, the tension left his shoulders and he eased back. She pulled her lips from his and gazed into his eyes. "You have to remember that every choice you've made in your life, you've done to survive. Whether it's wrong or right, it's not my place to judge you." She kissed him again, and framed his face with her hands. "All that's important is that you know you're worthy to have me. So very worthy."

  He closed his eyes. She laid her head on his shoulder. "You said you weren't sure if you were capable of loving, and I'm hungry for love. I'll take what you can give me, because when you touch me, I feel loved. I don't know if it's the normal way or the wrong way, but I need you to keep showing me attention in the only way you know how. I accept all of you. Even the parts I don't understand," she finished on a whisper.

  He nodded. She locked her arms around his neck. If she thought they'd connected before, when he'd held her down and taken everything from her, she was wrong. Nothing compared to him opening up his soul and sharing parts of himself with her. Whatever the future brought them, she'd hold on to this moment when they exposed themselves and admitted they needed each other with a passion that would rival anything that came their way.

  "I need to be inside you," he said.

  She stroked his face. "I know."

  He had her on her back, on the bed, her panties off, her T-shirt and robe stripped from her body before she could help him. Like always, she only knew pleasure. Whatever he did to her, she took, flowing and warming, burning for him.

  "Just need to feel you." His lips brushed over hers, so gentle, so caring, the kiss brought tears to her eyes.

  All she knew was the addictive need for more of his touch, more of the violent pleasure only he gave her. She writhed underneath him at the lick of his tongue on her neck.

  "Addy, tell me you'll live with me," he murmured against her skin. "I need you, doll. More than I ever needed anything."

  She shook her head, panic tearing through her. He had to believe her. She couldn't walk away this time. She had to know that wherever they went from here, he'd lead her and she'd follow him to the ends of the earth.

  "I'll never leave," she said, panting.

  "That's good." He kissed his way down her neck and sucked her nipples, nipping the sensitive buds.

  She jerked beneath him, begging.

  He moved down her body, spread her thighs, and eased himself between them. She raised her head, and he planted his hand in the middle of her stomach, forcing her down. The pressure, the control, along with his tongue stroking her clit had her bucking against his face.

  Each lick, each swipe, each time he sucked her clit into his mouth took her higher. Desperate, she clawed at the bed and sobbed with each flick of his tongue on her. And still, he loved on her sex with his mouth.

  He stabbed his tongue inside her and held himself still. Her womb rippled. She was almost there. Oh, God.

  When he finally worked his cock into her pussy, she was going to die with the pleasure.

  "Nathan," she moaned.

  He pulled his tongue out and again thrust it inside of her and held still. Perspiration broke out on her body. She burned from him taking her almost to orgasm and easing off.

  Then his touch was gone. She gazed down at him, afraid he was stopping. He couldn't leave her this way. Not now.

  He gazed at her from between her legs. Her stomach flexed. God, he was her everything.

  Slap.

  Her body stiffened and she screamed out in guilty pleasure. The sting from his hand spanking her sex was too much. She was too sensitive, too close to exploding.

  He slapped her pussy again.

  Right there. With no way to stop, she soared into ecstasy.

  Nathan crawled up her body. A guttural moan tore from her as his cock filled her body in one swift move.

  "I'm going to fuck you," he said. "So deep and hard we'll both feel it tomorrow."

  He eased back. He pumped back into her. Her pussy rippled around him until her core decided she could accept everything he gave her and she lifted up to meet each thrust of his hips.

  Together, they rode, they battled, they reached until she slipped into a place where she allowed him to do anything to her, and she'd let him. It was at this point, he owned her heart and soul.

  Barely coherent, she drew in a harsh breath. He impaled her in one, hard stroke. She screamed and arched against the bed. Her muscles spasmed as her orgasm exploded.

  "Addy…" He groaned and buried his face in her neck.

  She held him as his body shuddered its release.

  Long after he grew heavy and his arms gave out, she left her legs and arms wrapped around him. When he rolled off her, she went with him.

  Past the time her body cooled off, the sweat on him dried, and he'd covered them both with a blanket from the bed, she held on to him. Afraid that daybreak would send reality crashing down on her, she voiced her concern.

  "Was that enough?" she whispered. "Do you need more?"

  He kissed her forehead. "Tonight…that was more than what I needed."

  Chapter Thirty

  Twenty minutes after Addi
son left for work—despite telling her she needed to take the day off and sleep—Nathan let Donny into the house. Because he'd taken the day off, he promised Addy he'd oversee moving her belongings to his house. A few of the guys from the street would drive the U-Haul Donny brought with him.

  "You can start in the kitchen. Make sure you wrap everything well." Nathan pointed down the hall. "I'll do her bedroom, and then we'll worry about getting the furniture out into the truck. She said she only wants the china hutch out of the dining room and the chest in the living room. She wants the rest donated to St. Mary's to the food program."

  "Right." Donny shook his head, walking away from him.

  Today wasn't about Donny and his bad mood over Nathan dragging him out of bed to come and help. He jogged up the stairs and entered Addy's bedroom. The stack of boxes he'd ran out and bought while Addy took her shower earlier lay on the floor. After he taped together enough boxes to pack her clothes, he opened the dresser drawer.

  The silk panties caressed his fingers as he scooped them into his hands. His balls tightened, putting them in the container. He knew the important things about her, but he looked forward to learning all the secrets she held. Like discovering if she'd parade around in her underwear on a Sunday morning or if the garter belt he found in her second drawer would be as sexy on her as he imagined.

  He opened the third drawer and paused at the sight of pictures scattered over a sweater. Last night Addy hid what she was looking at when he came into the room. She'd been angry. He picked the top picture off the pile and frowned.

  A naked woman, bent over a chair, displayed the welts from a belt given to her by the man who—He brought the picture closer and squinted.

  "Fuck," he hissed.

  The man in the picture was Professor Frank. His heart pounded and he found it impossible to inhale.

  He took a second look at the woman. From the blur on the picture and her face not showing, he couldn't tell—his fingers curled in, crumbling the photo. He scattered the pictures in the drawer, frantic to find one of the woman's face. "Come on, come on…"

  He found one with a side view and stared, finally dropping the picture. His hands went to his head, and he paced the room. "No. Fuck no," he muttered. "Fuck. No."

  He returned to the drawer, peered inside and cursed. Professor Frank and Addison?

  Not stopping to think, he removed the whole drawer from the dresser and hurled it across the room. He struggled sucking air into his lungs. Every muscle constricted in agony, and he curled his fingers.

  "Hey." Donny stood in the doorway. "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Get out," he said, between clamped teeth.

  "No way, man." Donny walked into the room and headed toward the broken drawer.

  Nathan tackled him before he could pick up any of the pictures. Rolling on the floor, he wrapped his arm around Donny's neck and smashed his face into the floor.

  "Fu—stop," Donny muttered, fighting to breath.

  Nathan's vision blurred and he saw no one. Only anger and disappointment and fear. He ignored the kicks, the elbows, and concentrated on the need to hurt. The pain too much, he wanted to snuff out the feelings of seeing the woman who owned his heart and the man who saved his life together.

  Donny punched him. His head whipped back and he lost his hold on his brother. A kick landed on his stomach, and he rolled inward, drawing up his legs.

  "Let up, Donny." A man's voice came from above Nathan.

  Nathan raised his head and another hit took him down. Then a pair of hands brought him to his feet and he stared at Gary and Nug, trying to make sense of what happened.

  "Check yourself." Gary pushed Nathan back until he collapsed on the edge of the bed. "Fuck, man. You about killed your brother."

  Donny? He turned his gaze toward the door, found Donny on his feet, bent at the waist, coughing. He stiffened as it all came back.

  Professor. Addison. Together. He stood and bellowed, "Out."

  Gary and Nug took Donny with them. He waited until he heard the front door slam shut, and pressed his eyes closed with his hands. God, he almost killed Donny.

  As suddenly as that thought entered his mind, Addison's betrayal took over. He staggered around the room, seeing it for the first time.

  The silk panties.

  Her perfume.

  The unmade bed.

  Her dress hanging on the closet door.

  She'd shown him a part of her life, but kept her secrets to herself. Did she know about his relationship with Professor Frank before meeting him? Before he'd shared that part of himself?

  Of course she did. She'd admitted to watching the documentary of his life. He clenched his teeth together. The one where he showed the public what they wanted to see of the boy who never would've amounted to anything, but with the help of his mentor, succeeded.

  He doubled over, out of breath. How could Professor do this to him?

  Was Addison a test? He played the last conversation he had with Professor Frank in his head. He'd spoken Addison's name. Professor questioned him, and he'd given her full name, not that there were very many women with the first name Addison.

  Fuck.

  The door swung open and Addison hurried into the room. He curled his hands and straightened.

  She swung her gaze from him to the dresser to the closet to the other side of the bedroom. He spotted the second she realized her game was up and he knew the truth. She closed her eyes and shrank right in front of him.

  "I was going to tell—"

  "Right," he said.

  "Nathan, I was. I realized when I got to work what I was doing last night when you came to the house." She held her hands up beside her and shook her head. "Then when you volunteered to move my things, I was so happy with how things turned out between us, I forgot."

  "You forgot?"

  She inhaled deeply. "Yeah."

  "You forgot to let me in on how you're Professor Frank's latest bitch and you've been playing me for a fool? You both decided…what? This wouldn't bother me?" He crossed his arms, simmering in his anger.

  "What?" She moved forward and stopped in front of him. "Professor Frank? Your friend?"

  "Step away from me," he said. His voice barely controlled.

  "Honey…" She placed her hand on his stomach. "What's going—?"

  "Step away," he hissed.

  She jumped back. "You're scaring me."

  "If I were you, I'd be scared." He stepped around her and picked up one of the photos.

  There was no denying that the woman in the picture was Addison. The same mole on the side of her cheek, the same color of hair, and the same build as the other woman. His stomach knotted to a painful level and he wanted to beat her to the same degree of what he was feeling.

  Not trusting himself to be within an arm length of her, he held the picture out in front of him.

  "Deny that you're not enjoying the strap that's putting marks on your thighs," he said. When she wasn't fast in answering, he yelled, "Tell me."

  She shook her head. "It's not me."

  "Bull shit." He flicked the proof at her, letting his arm swing.

  "Nathan, it's not me." She picked up a few of the pictures and held them up. "It's my mother. I opened the box that contained the things she had in her safety deposit box on Wednesday night when you brought me home. I—she flailed her hands—I don't know. I was looking for answers."

  He frowned, not believing a word she said. That was Professor Frank and the woman looked exactly like Addison.

  "You'd let me go, and I needed to connect with something. I'd lost you, and felt like I had no one in the world. I had nothing in common with my mother. I guess...I'd hoped somehow I'd find something that would show me why I'm impossible for someone to love. Why everyone who should love me doesn't. Why you couldn't keep me…"

  "So, you went to Professor Frank and he showed you what real love is all about." He shook his head. "Three fucking days, Addison. You want me to believe you cared about me, and
yet you go to the one person I trusted right after we split up? All you had to do was wait three days, but you couldn't even do that."

  "Nathan! It's not me." She marched to her nightstand, opened the drawer, and hurried back to him carrying a picture frame. "Look. This is my mother and me. It's my high school graduation, so it's a long time ago, but look at her and then look at me in the picture."

  He carried the frame to the window, and with his back toward her, he studied the photo. Bile rose in this throat, and he swallowed.

  Addison, looking younger than he could imagine, stood with her hands clasped in front of her, staring at the camera. The smile on her face belied the tension he noticed in her eyes, because she focused too hard for the person taking the photo. Dull and lifeless, Addison was missing the joy and optimism he expected to see on her graduation day. He studied the other woman.

  A spitting imagine of Addison, but older. His lungs depleted of air and he blinked to focus. On her right cheek—he flicked his gaze back to Addison—Jesus, they had the same mole. Not a small, unnoticeable mark, but what women referred to as a beauty mark, one that enhanced their looks instead of hindered.

  Addison laid her hand on his back. He reached behind him and pulled her to his front, crushing her against his chest. The amount of relief over learning she was telling him the truth and it wasn't her with Professor Frank weakened his knees and knocked him speechless.

  He was wrong. Addison was only his. She'd only be his in this lifetime if he had anything to say about it, and he did.

  "It isn't me," she whispered.

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He'd jumped to conclusions when the two most important people in his life, the two people he'd do anything for, had the ability to ruin him.

  She tilted her chin up and looked at him. "Are you telling me that your friend is the man with my mother?"

  He blew out his breath. "Yeah."

  She pulled away, and he hooked her neck bringing her back to him. His world had done a three-hundred-and-sixty degree turn when he'd discovered the pictures. He wasn't ready to let her go yet.