by Maisey Yates
But Calder was a man who dealt in certainty. And for a hell of a lot of years he had been certain that he didn’t want the responsibility of a wife and children. And as the feelings of certainty surrounding Lauren clicked into place, those other truths about himself shifted on its axis. And it didn’t even scare him.
That was when she kissed him. It was like an explosion of heat and fire. Like nothing he had ever experienced before. And he had experienced quite a lot.
Then, he let everything else fade into the background. Because the rest would take care of itself. But for now, he was kissing Lauren Bishop.
And he was going to go ahead and glory in that.
CHAPTER FOUR
LAUREN FELT LIKE she was losing her mind. But, she also didn’t want to stop.
She had never felt anything like this before. She felt reckless and crazy and wrong, and she wasn’t going to do anything to fight against it.
Because Little Calder Reid was not little anymore, not at all.
He was all man.
Hot and hard and fixing things in her house.
Telling her all the things she had needed to hear for so long. Things she hadn’t known she needed to hear. And he was here. He was here and he wanted her. He’d said that he did. In no uncertain terms, crude and explicit and somehow hot.
Robert had used words like that, and it hadn’t felt the same. It felt thoughtless. Like he couldn’t be bothered to say something softer, more romantic. Like he couldn’t be bothered to seduce her.
When Calder said it, it was like a promise.
A filthy, explicit promise of pleasure.
Like he had used cruder terms because he couldn’t help himself. Because he had been driven to it by his desire for her. And maybe that was all her projecting what she needed, but it didn’t really matter.
Because this was about feeling. About need.
So she wasn’t going to rationalize it. She couldn’t. Not even if she wanted to. She grabbed hold of his face, pushing her fingers around through his hair and holding on to him, kissing him deeper. He growled, reversing their positions and backing her against the wall, his hand, large and rough on her face as he angled and took the kiss deeper. Sliding his tongue deep inside her mouth, the friction so hot and wet that it made her tremble.
He braced his other hand on her hip, dragging his thumb slowly back and forth across her rib cage. Her T-shirt was between his touch and her skin, and still, that slow movement of his thumb made her shiver. Made her tremble.
She felt it. Everywhere. She didn’t even know how that worked.
This was crazy. She didn’t do things like this. Ever. But hell, she was now. Why not? There was no one here. It was like an insane, ridiculous fantasy, except it couldn’t be.
Because he was too hot, hard and pushing her into the drywall to be a fantasy.
She wouldn’t be surprised if there was a little Lauren print left behind. At least he hadn’t backed her up against the wall she had recently painted. Because that would be hard to explain. Showing up at her parents’ house later tonight with a paint splotch in her hair.
But of course he hadn’t done that. His every movement was too smooth. Too practiced.
Except it didn’t feel like it. It felt raw and real and just for her. And she needed that.
She needed something to be about her.
Because the bottom line was every single one of those things in her planner was something she had to do. They didn’t make her feel good. They just had to be done. She didn’t want to be painting at eight thirty at night.
She just was.
But this was more than a box she had to check off. She needed to get done. She wanted to do this. With him.
And dammit, she was going to.
Because she didn’t want to be a widow. She didn’t want to be a single mom. It had never been the plan.
So why couldn’t she have this? In the long line of shit she hadn’t signed up for, why couldn’t this be one of the things? Having a moment of wild, uncontrolled lust with Calder Reid.
It was a hell of a lot better than any of the other random surprises life had thrown at her.
At least this one had a nice ass.
There was no more thinking after that, because he pushed his hand beneath the hem of her shirt, and that calloused skin made contact with the sensitive flesh there, and suddenly, she couldn’t speak, let alone think. She was melting. Her center completely liquid with her desire for him.
It was all going so fast, and thank God, honestly. Because if he went slower she might start thinking. She didn’t want to think. She wanted this. She had never been this insane. Ever. His hands were electric, skating over her skin and leaving a trail of sparks behind. He pushed her shirt up, dragged it over her head, and she had a moment of insecurity.
Her stomach wasn’t flat.
But those hot blue eyes didn’t go to her stomach, but to her breasts. And what she saw there was pure male appreciation. The kind she hadn’t seen in...
Well, she had been celibate since her husband’s death. And before that, it had been the two of them together for more than a decade. He might have been turned on by her, in the way that men were turned on by women. But he didn’t...appreciate her body. Not like that. Calder’s eyes said more with a hot look than her husband had said with about a thousand words.
And maybe she shouldn’t compare the two men. But, it was unavoidable to an extent. She hadn’t been with anyone other than Robert in a very long time. And it was difficult not to revel in the differences.
He groaned, unbuttoning her jeans, and drawing the zipper down slowly.
Giddy satisfaction went through her when he shoved his hand down between her legs, into her panties, his fingers insistent and quick, finding that sensitized bundle of nerves between her slick folds with unerring accuracy.
He stroked her.
Made her shake.
Made her cry out.
He was good. So, so good. There was a wealth of experience and knowledge in that touch. With each roll of his wrist. That man knew just what he was doing. Just how to touch her. All she could do was hang on to those broad shoulders as he coaxed a response from her that she wasn’t sure she’d known her body was capable of. He moved his thumb over her, then pressed two fingers deep inside her. She gasped at the invasion. It had been a while. But it was good. So good. He moved his hand in a steady rhythm, drawing his fingers in and out of her body, making her feel more. Better.
Making her feel like she might break apart into a thousand pieces if he didn’t make good on the climax he was promising.
She looked up, her eyes colliding with his, and she broke. The sound that escaped her lips would have been humiliating if she weren’t so completely lost in the shattering pleasure overtaking her.
She was shaking, and not entirely in control of her actions when she reached out and grabbed hold of his T-shirt, ripping it over his head. She needed to see him. Needed to touch him. The intense climax had done nothing to dampen her desire. If anything, it made her a crazy woman. She wanted more. She wanted everything.
She ran her hands over his muscles, over all that hot, hard skin. The chest hair there. Lord. He was just so much a man. She had never touched a man who looked like this. Had never even known to fantasize about it.
Women aren’t visual.
She’d lost track of the amount of times her mother had said that when she had cautioned her on the clothing that she wore. Women aren’t visual. Men are. That was why women had to be careful. About what they wore, and how they acted.
Well.
She felt pretty damn visual right now. And tactile. And desperate for sex. Raw, hard sex. She needed his cock inside her. She needed it more than she needed to breathe.
She didn’t recognize this creature he had transformed her into. She didn’t care. She l
oved it. She felt wanton and wild and utterly out of control.
She hadn’t put this in the damn planner.
And it felt glorious. She moved her fingers over his washboard stomach. And she didn’t care if she wasn’t perfect. He was. And he was all for her. He pushed her jeans down her legs, dragged her panties down with them. And she didn’t feel self-conscious anymore. How could she? Especially when she reached out and covered his denim-clad legs with her hand, taking the evidence of his desire for her in hand. He was so big. So hard. For her. How could she feel anything but accomplished right now?
She unbuckled his jeans, and his arousal sprang free. She wrapped her fingers around him, felt that hot, hard length in her hands.
He was everything she hadn’t realized she was missing.
She pumped his erection, once, twice. He groaned, his beautiful head falling back, his lips going slack.
She needed him inside her. Now. More than she needed to breathe.
She needed...
A sinking feeling hollowed out her stomach. “Condoms.”
“I have them,” he said. He reached down, grabbed hold of his jeans and produced his wallet, pulling out a plastic packet. “I promise they weren’t for you.”
She laughed. “Ordinarily that would be offensive.”
“Oh, I know. But I wanted to make sure that you knew I wasn’t plotting this.”
“Just part of your average cowboy survival kit.”
“Yes’m. I’ve always got a Swiss Army knife because you never know when you might need to repair something. And condoms, because you never know when a nice lady might need a good orgasm.”
She couldn’t even be mad. She was glad. Glad that he was kind of a slut. Glad that he had brought protection. Glad that he knew what the hell he was doing. When he tore the packet open, and wrapped his hand around himself as he smoothed the latex over his length, she gloried in everything about him. Every last inch.
He pressed her up against the wall then, kissing her hard, grabbing her wrists and drawing her arms above her head, pinning them hard against the drywall as he positioned himself between her legs. “I figure the floor’s a little hard,” he said, using his free hand to grip her hip, then sliding it down her thigh, lifting it up so that she was open to him. He arched his hips forward, pressing the head of his arousal into her slick entrance. “This will do just fine.”
He thrust up inside her, and she gasped. He was big. So, so big.
She loved it. Because she felt him everywhere. Fully possessed.
And as he began to pound inside her, as the pleasure began to build in her again, she lost herself completely. There were no worries. There were no more appointments. There was nothing but this. She was just a woman. And he was just a man. She was all feeling. That heavy length pounding hard and deep. Fingernails dug into his skin. Slick sweat and desire.
He shuddered out his release, slamming into her one last time, and she broke, her internal muscles pulsing around him as she came harder than she could ever remember coming before.
She felt like she was outside her body. Outside herself. Because good, sensible Lauren Bishop would never screw a guy up against the wall that she didn’t even know.
Knowing him seventeen years ago did not count.
And yet, as he stared deep into her eyes, still buried inside her, she couldn’t escape the feeling that he might know her better than she knew herself.
That he might know her in ways no one else ever had.
He released his hold on her, slowly, withdrawing from her.
“I don’t even know what to say,” he said.
“Don’t say anything,” she said. “I’m... I’m sorry,” she said, a rush of regret filling her.
What had she just done? She had just acted like a giant hormone. That wasn’t her. It felt perfect for a minute. Liberating and everything. And now it just felt...humiliating.
“That was a mistake.”
He looked at her, lifted a brow. “I haven’t even taken the condom off yet and you’re telling me it was a mistake?”
Her skin flushed, her face going hot. He was right about that. He was standing in front of her, still totally naked, with all of the evidence of what had just occurred...right there.
“I just... That isn’t me. I’m responsible. I’m...”
“What about that was irresponsible?”
“It just is,” she insisted. “How would I ever explain behavior like that to my children?”
“The way I see it, Lauren, you’re an adult and you don’t owe your kids an explanation for things like that.”
“My mother would be disappointed in me.”
“You don’t owe your mother an explanation either. What we do in the privacy of...your almost home is our business.”
“I...”
It wasn’t that she hadn’t disappointed her parents before. Running off and marrying Robert hadn’t exactly been a popular decision. They had accepted it, sure. There were no other options at the end of the day. What had been done had been done. And when he had died, her parents had been very supportive of her. They had spent a lot of time at her house. They had stayed there for weeks at a time helping her get affairs in order, helping her take care of the girls. It wasn’t that their love had ever been conditional. But all the things inside her that had been unspoken, all the anger at him... She knew that they had felt the same—that Robert had brought it on himself. And that Lauren was grieving because she had made a bad decision when she was nineteen years old. That all that pain had really been self-inflicted in many ways. Because she should have chosen more wisely from the start. She should have gone to college. She should have done something with her life that wasn’t just running off and being impetuous for love. A love that she had clearly felt more strongly than her husband ever had because if he had loved her even half as much she loved him he would have changed. For her. For the girls.
And the fact that all of that was tied up in this stolen moment made her angry in a lot of ways. But it was also unavoidable.
“I can’t just do things like this.”
“Why? You need the house fixed. And that was fun. Why can’t we do both?”
“Because I can’t... There’s no room in my life for this. There’s no room in my life for... I can’t play around with man children. Okay?”
“Man children?”
“Yes. You’re... What are you?”
“Twenty-nine,” he said.
“Exactly. Twenty-nine. I’m thirty-five years old, Calder, I have children. I have responsibilities. I can’t just... I can’t just screw around with some guy because he’s hot.”
“Why? Why the hell can’t you? You’re not just a mother. You’re a woman. And you don’t live for your parents, and you can’t live just for your children.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Somebody has to live for those girls, Calder. God knows my husband never did.”
“Are they taken care of right now?”
“Yes... But...”
“But nothing. Look, Lauren, if that wasn’t good for you and you don’t want to do it again, fine. But if this is just a bunch of excuses... I’m going to call you out.”
“It was good. You know that.”
“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”
“You don’t understand because you don’t have any real responsibilities to anyone but yourself. And that’s what I mean by man children.”
“That’s not fair. Just because I’ve never had that kind of responsibility doesn’t mean I couldn’t handle it if I did. It doesn’t mean I’m too terminally selfish to try to understand your situation.”
“My experience indicates that it doesn’t happen that way.”
“Your experience is limited. And unfortunate. I’m really sorry that you had a bad experience in your marriage. But that’s not eve
ry man. And it sure as hell isn’t me. I’m attracted to you,” he said. “That’s obvious.”
That declaration sent a wave of desire rolling over her. And it shouldn’t have. Because she should be taken care of. She hadn’t had an orgasm like that in... Ever, maybe. And every orgasm she had in the past few years had been self-induced.
So she should honestly be set for the next little while, but already, she wanted more. He was naked, they were both naked, and they were yelling at each other. It was weird. She was upset. She felt unsettled. And she still felt turned on. She didn’t know what to make of any of it.
And it was very hard to argue against Calder right now. Because he was beautiful. Because he wanted her. Because he made her feel good. Like a woman. And not like... Well, a walking to-do list.
“My time is so... Stretched. I work, I work on this house, I keep appointments for myself, for my children. And then with every moment I have I try to spend it with them. I don’t have a whole bunch of moments to trade around. To devote to... This. So when I say there’s no point... Everything in my life has a point.”
“What about you?” he asked. “What about you feeling good? What about you having a little bit of fun?”
“I can’t be like him. They can’t have another parent who only thinks about their own pleasure. They just can’t.”
“There is middle ground, Lauren. There is. There’s more than just devoting every spare moment to other people, and thinking of no one but yourself. Your kids deserve to have a happy mother. And you deserve to be happy.”
“And you think that a little bit of sex with you is going to make me happy?”
That was bitchy. And completely uncalled for.
But, the corner of his mouth lifted upward, and he looked her over. “Yeah. I think I could do a pretty damn good job of making you happy, Lauren Bishop.”
“I’m sorry. You’re going to have to find another sad, lonely woman to devote your time and abs to.”
He tilted his head to the side, frowning slightly. “My abs, huh? I assumed my dick was the star of the show.”
