by Mari Carr
“Come on. Guy at the front desk said that dive over there does takeout. He called it room service. We can grab some food there and a bottle of tequila from the liquor store.”
“Tequila sounds good.” And stupid. She didn’t drink much, so when she did, it went to her head fast.
Of course, the tequila didn’t feel stupid a few hours later. She and James had polished off a helping of potato skins, a dozen wings, two sliders each, some spinach dip, and the better part of a fifth of Patron Silver.
She was tipsy and feeling absolutely no pain. A blissful state after the last week.
James grinned at her, and she realized he was right there with her.
“I missed you,” he said when he caught her looking at him.
“I missed you too.”
“Went to lunch with Butch at the diner the other day, but the bastard hardly talks and when he does, it’s just about hunting and fishing. Boring as fuck. I like talking to you better.”
She laid her head back against the headboard and sighed. The tequila not only made her warm after so many cold days, it made it easier for her to say all the things that she’d been thinking.
“You’re a good man.”
He chuckled for a moment, until he realized she was serious. He’d been laying on his back on his own bed, but now he turned to his side to face her. She did the same, the two of them staring at each other over the five feet between them.
“Not really. I was a shithead in school, cocky asshole always strutting around. After school, life stalled out and I got into some trouble—got into bar fights, did reckless shit on my bike, said some really hateful things to my dad. And I picked up women because I wanted sex, not because I wanted them.”
“I said you are a good man. Not you were. Figure there’s not a person on the planet who hasn’t done something bad in their past, something they’re not proud of. Those things don’t define you, determine who you are. Or maybe they do. Maybe you recognize what you’ve done wrong and it changes you, makes you want to be a better person.”
“Have you ever done anything you regret?”
She nodded. “Sure. Of course. Cut class a few times. Stole some lipstick once from a drugstore.”
He shook his head. “Try again.”
Ivy swallowed heavily. There were too many things she regretted. “My mom blamed my dad for Jem’s death. Screamed at him for sending him out to fight that fire. It wasn’t a big one, just a lightning strike, pretty close to home. Jem was on the squad, on call that night, and Dad was in charge. He was doing his job. I hated Mom for saying those horrible things to him. She left him two months after Jem died, moved in with my aunt in North Carolina.”
“Two months?” James whispered.
“I know, right? I think it was a knee-jerk reaction to all the pain, and sometimes I wonder, if Dad had gone after her, brought her home, if they could have worked it out.”
“He didn’t go?”
“No. He was buried in guilt. Because he believed her. Believed Jem’s death was his fault.”
James frowned. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“I know.”
“This sounds like something your mom should regret. Not you.”
Ivy closed her eyes, unwilling to face him as she told him the rest. “Things fell apart right after Mom left. That was when I started cutting class, started stealing stuff. Fell in with all the wrong people, smoking pot, missing curfew. Found a badass boyfriend who probably would have given you a run for your money.”
She heard James chuckle, but she didn’t open her eyes or look his way. “Lost my virginity to him. Fortunately, my decline came near the end of my sophomore year. I’d been a stellar student for three quarters and my teachers liked me, so they kept letting me get by with things because I was the girl whose brother had died. The ultimate hall pass.”
She was startled when she felt the mattress next to her sink, James sitting on the edge. Her eyes had been closed, so she hadn’t seen him move.
He took her hand and squeezed it. It didn’t offer the comfort he might have hoped. “It’s okay, Ivy.”
She didn’t bother to close her eyes again. She didn’t want to keep hiding from him. Instead, she held his gaze. “Dad reached the end of his rope after a few months. Grounding me hadn’t worked. Neither had taking away my phone. One day, he called me into the living room and said he couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t watch me keep making all the wrong decisions. Said he was sending me to live with my mother. I lost it. Started screaming at him, told him I wouldn’t go. And then…”
“Then?” James prompted.
“I said I wished he’d died in the fire instead of Jem.”
Chapter Eight
James blew out a long, hard breath. “Damn.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Yeah. The second it was out of my mouth, I wanted to suck it back in.”
“What did Roscoe say?”
“He said he wished he had too.” She sniffled. “God, I swore I wouldn’t cry in front of you anymore. Not after the other day.”
James swiped away her tears with his thumbs and leaned closer. “You were sixteen years old, Ivy. Everything in your life was fucked-up.”
“I didn’t know how to take it back, so I fixed the rest. Broke up with the asshole, started getting good grades in school, worked overtime to be the perfect kid. Not sure any of that washed away the words.”
“Of course it did. Do you know how many kids have told their parents they hate them? Probably all of them. I’ve said some really shitty stuff to my dad, stuff I feel awful about. Because none of it was true. Not really.”
Ivy sniffled, reaching for a tissue from the box on the nightstand. “Like what?”
James shrugged. “The usual, I guess. Always something along the lines of I’ll never grow up to be like you.”
Ivy sat up, tucking her legs under her Indian-style. “You know, you don’t talk about your dad much. I’ve heard a ton of stories about your brother and cousins, about your sister and her kids, a few of the tea time exploits of the Compton females,” she said with a laugh, as she obviously recalled James explaining how his mom and aunts got together every Sunday afternoon for “tea,” aka several pitchers of margaritas. “And you told me all about Jake. But not your dad. Why not?”
“I don’t know why. Spent most of my life butting heads with him. My mom says it’s because we’re too much alike, but I sure as hell don’t see that. Dad is kind of a stoic, serious guy. A paragon who never does anything wrong. He tends to cast a pretty big shadow. So do my uncles.”
“I doubt that he’s perfect, Jamie.”
James shrugged. “I’m sure he’s not. Jake used to tell me some stories about Dad and his brothers when they were kids. Sounded like they raised the same sort of hell as me and Doug and Austin and Bryant.”
“Seems to me you wouldn’t want a hell-raiser for a father.”
He laughed. “Could be fun. For a while.” He sobered up. “Truth of it is, none of my bold promises to be nothing like him were true. The older I get, the more I see parts of him coming out in me.”
“Like what?”
“Like his love of horses and the land. The way family is the most important thing to him. I spent so many damn years trying to get away from my folks, thinking that was the only way to find myself, to figure out who I was and what mattered. When I look back now, I realize I already knew how to be a good man…because Dad showed me.”
“Jamie?”
“Yeah?”
“I need you.”
He studied her face for a moment, seeing the same uncertainty, fear and sadness he felt. James didn’t know how a person could be the illness and the cure, but that’s what she was.
“I need you too.”
She reached out for him and he moved toward the embrace. Their lips met and every horrible feeling melted away. He didn’t pretend any of it was gone. They’d pay the piper for this tomorrow.
But for tonight, he needed her too much
to be wise.
He tasted the tequila on her tongue.
Another reason why this was wrong.
James ignored that too.
Ivy pulled back from the kiss first. Part of him hoped, while part feared, she’d come to her senses. That she was going to be strong enough to stop this.
One look at her face proved that wasn’t going to happen. She tugged her T-shirt over her head, then moved to take his off as well. He grinned. She was always in a hurry, never in the mood to savor the moment.
They’d been together a couple dozen times since that first afternoon, and James had always let her take what she wanted, when she wanted it. Not that he hadn’t tested some boundaries and introduced her to some very fun things.
He couldn’t do that tonight. If this was it, all there was ever going to be, it was going to be on his terms—and it was going to last all damn night. James would stop the fucking dawn if he could figure out how.
He gripped her wrists, pulling them away from his shirt. “Not so fast,” he murmured.
She tried to shake off his hold, so he tightened his grip.
“Ivy.”
Something in his dark tone broke through. Her gaze lifted as her hands stilled. This wasn’t their first time, but there was a good chance it would be their last. The alpha male inside roared, determined to make this night something she’d never forget.
He rose from the bed, halting her complaint with one raised finger.
“Not a word,” he warned.
He heard the uneasiness of her breath when she expelled it. Pink-tinged cheeks and heavy eyelids told him all he needed to know. She might not be submissive, but she had no problem with the Dom.
None at all.
James held his hand out and she took it. He tugged her up until they were both standing beside the bed. He brushed her long hair over her shoulder, enjoyed her soft mew as he ran his fingertips along the side of her neck. James took one strap of her bra and drew it off her shoulder. Then he leaned down to kiss the side of her neck.
Ivy shivered, her hands gripping his waist, tightening there.
“I’m not going to rush this,” he whispered in her ear.
“I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
James brushed her earlobe with his tongue, loving the way she shivered again in his arms. Then he pushed her other bra strap down, giving her left shoulder the same loving treatment.
Ivy wasn’t content to just feel. He never had to wonder about her thoughts. She slowly pushed her hands beneath his T-shirt, caressing his skin, her own lips finding his cheek every few minutes to give him a soft kiss.
James reached around her and unsnapped her bra, letting the silk simply drop away. As he cupped her breasts, she murmured “first base?” with a mischievous grin.
He shook his head, returning her smile. “Pretty sure this is second.”
They kissed even as they laughed. James cupped her breasts, her mirth turning to a groan as he squeezed, then pinched her nipples.
Ivy ran her hands along his sides, lifting his shirt as she went. He released her briefly, allowing her to drag the cotton over his head. Then he instantly returned to her breasts, bending to suck one tight nipple into his mouth.
Her hands flew to his head, her fingers tangling in his hair. He loved the way she tugged on it, using her grip to hold him to her. Not that she had to expend the effort. He’d spend a lifetime sucking on her pretty breasts if she would let him.
Neither of them sought to move to the next part, wanted to rush through this. He’d never taken the time to worship her, to show her exactly what she meant to him. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Eventually, he dropped down to his knees in front of her, unfastening her jeans and slowly drawing them and her lacy panties to her feet. She kicked them off, her shoes gone hours ago. Gripping her hips in his hands, he pressed his nose to her pussy, inhaling her sweet scent. She was hot and ready when she slid her legs farther apart, giving him better access.
Her hands remained on his head, but her grip had loosened. Her fingers were sliding through his hair absentmindedly. He was reminded of the way she gently petted a newborn kitten who’d been brought into the clinic. She was loving him back.
Using his thumbs, James tugged her open so he could run his tongue along her slick heat.
“God,” she whispered.
He took time with her clit, using the tip of his tongue to tease her, to drive her arousal higher. She parted her thighs even more and he accepted the invitation, pushing one finger inside her.
She pressed forward, toward his mouth, so he used one hand to hold her in place, to keep her there, a slave to his passion.
“Please,” she whispered as he pushed that one finger in and out slowly. She needed more. He knew it. But she was going to beg a lot harder and a lot longer before he gave it to her.
James sucked her clit into his mouth roughly, building the intensity, the pressure. Her shoulders bent slightly, and he could tell she was struggling to hold herself upright.
“Don’t fall down,” he murmured against her pussy. “I’m not done yet.”
He could sense, rather than feel, her fighting to stiffen her spine, to find the strength to hold herself there, open to his attention.
“I need…” Her words drifted away.
“I know.”
He pulled his finger out, pushing her thighs open even farther so he could bend his head closer. James pushed his tongue inside her, and Ivy nearly tumbled forward.
“Oh my God,” she said with a gasp.
He rose quickly, her taste, her voice driving him mad, despite his determination to take things slow.
James pushed her back on the mattress, her legs dangling open over the edge as he returned to his knees before her. His thumb stroked her clit as he drove his tongue inside her again. Her hips lifted and fell, and his cock stiffened even more.
Control had never been an issue until Ivy. Now it took everything he had to stay the course, to make sure she realized, that Ivy knew all the way to the depths of her soul, that she was his.
Hurdles or not, this woman, in this moment, was the center of his universe. Everything.
She came twice, once on his tongue, the second time on the two fingers he plowed deep inside her. Crying out loudly, Ivy white-knuckled the sheets beneath her.
When the second orgasm waned, he stood on unsteady legs, overwhelmed by her, by this night. He fought to free himself from his jeans with clumsy fingers, surprised when Ivy sat up, impatiently shoved his hands away and took over.
Together, with little grace, they managed to get him out of his tight denim. His cock was rock-hard, and he almost groaned aloud at the relief he felt when it was free of its constraints.
He intended to push Ivy to her back once more, to shove into her molten heat and let her consume him until ashes were all that was left. He couldn’t think of a more beautiful way to go.
As always, Ivy had other plans. His control might be waning, but hers was just now kicking in. She pushed him away from the mattress a couple feet, then took his spot, kneeling in front of him.
Wrapping her hand around his cock, she stroked him with a firm, rough touch that showed how much she’d learned about his desires in their short time together. She held nothing back as she drew the head into her mouth and sucked hard.
James wrapped one hand around the back of her head, taking hold of the reins as he pressed her forward, then pulled her away, fucking her mouth the way he’d dreamed of all those weeks she’d refused him. Ivy didn’t resist, but let him drive. Her hands cupped his ass, squeezing the globes almost painfully.
Always that edge. Both of them liked to push each other right there…to that place where pleasure skirted the line of pain. It was his favorite place. And given the sounds of her soft moans, hers as well.
He quickened his pace, moving deeper into her mouth. James kept going, pushed himself to the brink, then took a step away, his cock falling out of her mouth with a loud
pop.
His quick escape confused her for just a moment before a scowl painted her face.
“Jamie. I want to finish this way.”
He shook his head. “Not this time. Get on the bed.” His words were dark, demanding, maybe even a little fucking scary.
She simply smiled. “That’s not a request.” She meant her words as a tease. And if he hadn’t been walking the razor’s edge, he might have laughed.
Instead, he said, “That’s right. It wasn’t.”
Ivy pushed herself to her feet with a bit of effort. They’d been at it for nearly an hour. And while she’d come twice already, there was no mistaking the painful need in her pretty blue eyes.
She dropped down to the bed and parted her thighs, crooking her finger at him in sultry invitation.
James climbed over her, caging her beneath him, sucking in deep breaths. One thrust. If he didn’t get his shit together, this was going to be over in one goddamn thrust.
Now he knew why he and Ivy had never mastered the art of foreplay. It cut into the main event.
Ivy must have recognized his distress. “We have all night.”
All night.
One night.
James recalled that, while she was welcoming him into her body tonight, the invitation would be rescinded come morning. Not that he blamed her.
He would remember her face as she’d cried beside that tree until the day he died. He’d never put that look there again. Ever.
The thought calmed him, centered him.
He dropped down to his elbows, covering her completely. Despite the difference in their heights, they fit. He’d noticed that since the start.
They fit.
Physically and emotionally.
He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her. Ivy’s hands wrapped around his neck as she fell into the embrace, accepting the abrupt change in pace.
Their lips touched, softly, then their tongues emerged, tasting. Her breath was warm and spicy, the scent of the tequila intoxicating him again in a different way. A better way.
When he finally lifted his head, breaking the kiss, he was calmer. And ready.
