by L. M. Carr
“What do you want to watch?”
Andrew glances at me and allows his eyes to linger on my face. “You beneath me.”
My nipples pebble and my sex clenches at the intensity of his searing look.
Oh God. I’m in trouble!
Needing a reprieve, a moment to think rationally, I jump up and dash to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a bowl of buttery popcorn and a yellow, one pound bag of candy.
Andrew’s long legs are stretched out, crossed at the ankles, revealing his bare feet. Clicking the button on the remote control in his hand, Andrew surfs through the cable channels before finally switching over to Netflix.
“That’s a big bag,” he jokes, reaching for a handful of peanut M&Ms.
“I like big things.” I smirk and pop a few oval pieces into my mouth. “And I love anything with nuts.”
“I bet you do,” he whispers so slightly that I mentally question if I heard him correctly. Ignoring his wide-eyed stare and slight grin, I keep my eyes focused on the flat screen mounted on the wall.
“There’s a Star Wars marathon on FX.”
I wrinkle my nose and scrunch my lips together. “Not really a fan.”
“How could you not like Star Wars? It’s epic!”
Looking up, I tap my chin, feigning serious pondering. “Nope. Still not a fan.”
We ping pong suggestions about what kind of movie to watch until we settle on The Ritual.
“You really like scary movies?”
I nod enthusiastically. “But not demonic things. I like suspense. You never know what’s going to happen next.”
Again, Andrew grins.
After having lost track of how many times I screamed and clutched onto his arm, I sigh in relief when the movie ends. I look at the clock and note the late hour as a yawn escapes.
“I’ve got to get up early tomorrow,” I say but quickly amend my statement. “Or rather in a few hours.”
“Where’re you going so early? It’s Saturday.”
I rise and head into the bathroom to floss and brush my teeth. “Heading up to visit my parents. I haven’t seen them since the memorial service.” I freeze instantly and my eyes close.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.” I say, peeking outside of the door frame to find Andrew sitting straight up on my bed, staring at the ceiling. “Everything okay?”
Sitting cross-legged in front of him, something visceral compels me to reach for his hand and take it into mine. I flip it over slowly to look at his life line. I can feel the weight of his stare as my fingertip traces the long, deep crease carved in his large palm. Slowly, my eyes drag upward to meet his.
“Why don’t you—”
“Can I stay here ton—”
With simultaneous parting of our lips, Andrew and I speak at the same time then quickly insist the other continues.
“Please,” he encourages me to finish my sentence.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to come up to my parents with me. They live in Lake George. We’d be back by Sunday afternoon. If you don’t want to, it’s okay. But let me tell you about this amazing French Toast casserole that my mom makes every Sunday for brunch.”
I realize I’m rambling and immediately shut my mouth, eyeing him carefully when I see the confused look on his face. “Sorry! I just don’t—”
“I’d like that,” he interjects, causing me to stammer when comprehension sets in.
“You...you wanna come with me?”
Those gorgeous blues sparkle when he hums then says, “I’d love to come with you.” Smiling devilishly, he adds, “And I’ll go with you tomorrow.”
Grabbing a decorative throw pillow, I laugh and chuck it at his head. “Is that all you ever think about?”
He shrugs. “These days...pretty much.”
“What were you going to ask me?”
Andrew’s chest rises and falls as he prepares to speak.
“Would you mind if I slept on your couch?” he asks as his head drops, possibly in shame or uncertainty.
Stammering through disbelief, I ask why.
“It gets harder every day to be there alone, knowing the house will forever be empty. I have way too many memo—”
I hold my hand up to stop him and simply nod.
Aside from the agonizing sobs I inadvertently witnessed, this is the first time Andrew has shown any sign of grief over the loss of his parents. I blink away the tears forming in the corner of my eyes and swallow the boulder-sized lump in my throat. Recognizing the anguish in his voice, realizing how much it must have taken for him to admit that to me, a virtual stranger, my eyes close briefly.
When they reopen, Andrew’s face is close and his luscious lips are a fraction of space away.
“Embrasse moi,” he whispers the quiet supplication as his hands cup my jaw, and he presses his lips against mine.
My hands rise and my fingers curl around his thick wrists while my thumb glides back and forth along his skin. Angling my head, he deepens the moment of intimacy. Butterflies dance in my belly as desire rushes to the apex between my legs in the form of uncontrollable lust.
“Andrew,” his name falls from my lips. “What are—” I cry against the rhythm of his mouth on mine.
I sigh when I feel his tongue slip in between my lips, tempting me with warm, gentle swirls. My body is a raging wildfire and I have no wish to extinguish it. Andrew swallows my breathy moans as we both rise to our knees and he yanks off his T-shirt.
With a purr of appreciation, I admire him while my heart pounds like a thousand wild stallions galloping over and through the mid-western plains.
Blessed with a beautiful, sculpted chest which leads down to peaks and valleys of hard abs beneath tanned skin, Andrew’s erratic breathing displays his frenzied need to take us to the next level so we can finish what we started in Vegas and again today.
Where’s Logic when I need her?
My fingers graze his skin and skate over the sprinkling of dark brown hair in the center of his chest. When I feel the abandonment of one of his hands, my heart plummets but quickly soars again when he pulls me flush against his body, crushing my breasts against his chest and aligning his erection, strong and firm, against my abdomen.
I look up into his eyes as he gazes down at me. I suppress any doubt when the only thing I see reflected at me is unadulterated, carnal desire combined with lustful promises.
Returning his kiss, my eyes close.
“Oh baby, I want you so bad. All these weeks watching you come and go around here. I am desperate to fuck you.”
“Baby. C’mon, baby. I didn’t mean it. She means nothing to me. Please forgive me, baby.” A million memories of Sean’s lies and apologies crash over me like a deadly tsunami.
My eyes spring open as if I’ve been doused with freezing cold lake water in the dead of winter. “Don’t call me that,” I hiss through gritted teeth, slamming my eyes shut and covering my face to block out the images.
“What?” he mumbles against my lips, trying desperately to return us to the volcanic heat we experienced only seconds before. “What’s wrong?”
I pull away, widening the space between our bodies and look down. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
A raspy voice returns to my neck and murmurs in my ear, “Yes, we should. We both want this, baby.”
“Don’t fucking call me that!”
“Call you what?” he asks.
“Baby! Don’t call me that.”
Big blue eyes widen. “Okay,” he says, attempting to kiss me again.
“Andrew, please!” I shove him back. “I can’t do this!” I crawl to the other side of the bed and run into the bathroom.
“Morgan!” I hear Andrew call my name as he knocks on the locked door. “What’s wrong?”
Cold water splashes against my hot skin and washes away the tears that stream down my cheeks. I clear my throat, hoping my voice emerges as normally as possible. “Please just go. I’m fine.”<
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“Open the door,” he demands.
I shake my head and ask him to leave once again.
“Not until you tell me what the hell just happened.” He turns the knob forcefully but has no luck getting past the door.
After several minutes, I finally exit the sanctuary of my bathroom when I hear the front door open and shut.
Gripping the hair on the top of my head, I yank hard, leaving the roots sore as I punish myself for allowing him to have control over me.
Fuck you, Sean. My ex-husband has no power over me. None I remind myself relentlessly. I’d given him enough years of my life; I won’t give him a second more.
My legs carry me as I pace the place I now call home while I proceed to have a conversation with myself. Andrew is going to think I’m some nut job. I open and close the refrigerator. But he shouldn’t have kissed me. I search around for my cell phone, debating whether or not to call him. Maybe I led him on by suggesting we watch a movie in my bedroom.
A black screen greets me when I swipe my finger across the glass. I rush to the front window when I hear the sound of a car’s engine. I make it there just in time to see the red taillights turn out of the driveway.
I stand there, wondering where in the world Andrew could’ve gone at one o’clock in the morning. Sitting in the lone chair across from the couch while waiting for Andrew’s return, I fall asleep with moisture in my eyes, swollen lips and an unsettled heart.
The hard and heavy slamming sound of a car door jolts me wide awake and I jump to my feet. My eyes are laser focused on Andrew as he walks slowly from the Hummer to the main house in the rain. With rapt attention, I hold my breath when he stops suddenly and turns in the direction of the pool house.
What am I going to say? How will I explain the meltdown he witnessed? I ask myself. Thankfully, the opportunity never presents itself because he turns back and enters his parents’ home through the back door which leads to the kitchen.
Continuing my observation with a curious eye, I watch the light in one room illuminate then darken about fifteen minutes later. Scanning the back of the house, I look for any sign of Andrew on the second story but find none. Then for a fleeting moment, I see a fragment of his cell phone’s blue glow in the darkness.
Guilt consumes me that I allowed Sean to penetrate my mind and push Andrew away, driving him back to the lonely and barren house. The fact that Andrew voiced his wariness about being in his parents’ home pinches my heart as empathy sets in.
Even as a child, I recollect that for almost a year, no one was allowed to go into my brother’s room. My mother didn’t make his bed. She set a dish for him at every meal until my father nearly lost his mind and confronted her, demanding that she come to terms with the fact that their beloved son was gone, never to return.
While part of my body still fizzes with desire, another part of me settles with relief. In a way, I’m grateful for the interruption. God only knows what would’ve happened between us. Had it really only been a few days before that we agreed to be friends and business partners? How did we allow our undeniable attraction to trump our agreement?
I don’t need to be Andrew Darling’s lover; I need to be his friend.
Grabbing my umbrella, I trek across the lawn as my flip flops squish against the wet grass.
Be his friend. Be his friend. This silent pep talk provides the courage I need to turn the knob and push the door open. Covering my nose with the hem of my sleeve, I navigate through the kitchen and up the stairs, following the mental map of where I saw the light. My steps freeze when I reach a door which is slightly ajar, allowing the glow to filter into the hallway.
God, please let me be doing the right thing.
“Andrew,” I whisper his name.
“What?” he hisses, setting his phone face down on the bed, extinguishing the faint light.
Suddenly shrouded in darkness, I ask permission to proceed then offer soft words in an attempt to explain what transpired earlier.
Andrew sits up in the king-sized bed but says nothing. The slight silhouette of his body reveals the lack of a T-shirt and my mind immediately wonders if any material covers the rest of his body. The scent of fresh soap wafts in the air as he runs his hands through his hair.
Detecting hesitancy on his part, I sigh. “If you want, we can talk when I get back from Lake George on Sunday.”
“But you asked me to go with you,” he retorts sharply.
“I did,” I stammer, feeling unease settle in my throat. “I didn’t know if you still wanted to come along.”
“I could use a little time away...from here.”
The strain in his voice forces my legs to move, bringing me closer to his bed. “May I sit down?”
A deep breath is pushed from his lungs. “Morgan, it’s late and if we want to make it to upstate New York—”
I stiffen. “Oh, sorry! You’re right.” I take a small step backward as my mood plunges into the dark abyss of rejection.
The comforter is pulled back, exposing the vacancy in his bed. I hear Andrew release a heavy sigh as he pats the sheet twice, beckoning me to join him. Two little words are added.
“Come here."
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure...as long as you don’t try to seduce me again.” I hear the hint of humor in his voice as I climb onto the plush bed and settle down beside him.
The sheer joy of lying in his bed is short lived.
“Turn on your side,” he directs brusquely.
I do as he instructs and then adjust the goose down pillow, grateful for the darkness to shield the sadness creeping up on my face because it's obvious he can’t even face me. As if we are two islands disconnected from one another, surrounded by a sea of water, Andrew and I lie together but separately.
My breathing regulates and deepens as I slowly drift to sleep.
“I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing to you earlier,” Andrew whispers into my hair as he lays his hand on my hip, molding his body against mine. “Just stay with me.”
My eyelids droop and I mumble a quiet, groggy reply. “I won’t leave you.” Sighing contently as sleep finally takes my hand and leads me away to a place of pleasure where this intimacy, shared in the dark between the beautiful, broken man and me, is allowed, where it’s welcomed, where it’s cherished.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The wonderful scent of strong coffee infiltrates my nose and rouses me from my slumber. Still half asleep, I yawn and stretch my arms above my head until my fingers touch a hard surface. I tilt my head back and notice the walnut colored headboard and sage green walls.
I gasp when my eyes scan the room and I realize I’m not in my own bed. Shit! I sit up quickly and glance at the open door, trying desperately to remember how I ended up here. In the corner of the room sits an oversized loveseat with plush pillows and a black V-neck and a pair of worn jeans.
Swinging my legs over the bed, I test the strength of them as I stand. I sway a bit and feel as though I’m hung over, but I know I didn’t drink. Lack of sleep and an emotionally draining week makes me tipsy.
After freshening up in the bathroom, I make my way downstairs in search of Andrew. With no reason to prolong the awkward encounter, I take a deep breath and round the corner of the kitchen, fully expecting him to be sitting there.
“Andrew?” I call out, looking around the vast area for any sign of him. The time on the microwave confirms the morning’s early hour and I huff, thinking I could’ve slept another hour or so.
Reaching for a napkin when I inevitably sneeze, I look out through the kitchen window and see Andrew hitting golf balls deep into the yard past the pool house.
Whack.
Whack.
Whack.
Covered in a pair of gray sweatpants and a long sleeve Henley, Andrew’s body twists at the hip as the club rises into the air. In one swift motion, he sends the small white ball sailing through the air. He moves to the next tee and proceeds to send that one farther.
I call out with a laugh, purposely distracting him. “Hey, are you still coming with me?”
“Shhh! You’re messing up my stroke,” he shouts back without lifting his head.
“I’m sure your stroke is just fine.”
Whack.
Tossing the club down onto the grass, Andrew strides over to me and blocks my view of the morning sun with his looming frame.
“What time do you want to leave?” he asks casually as if we didn’t snuggle and sleep in the same bed mere hours before.
I reply indifferently. “Nine-thirty.”
Nodding, Andrew sidesteps me, leaving me to wonder if it was all a hallucination.
I turn around and call his name. “Hey, are we going to talk about last night?”
He shrugs and drags his eyes up to meet mine. “What’s there to talk about?”
Deep in the pit of my belly, I sense unrest, some underlying tension. Perhaps he’s upset I stopped things before we went too far. Maybe the taste of rejection lingers on his tongue. Either way, something’s bothering Andrew Darling. As much as I want to know what it is, I decide to wait since we’ll be in the car together for almost three hours.
“Meet you back here soon. Don’t forget to pack warm pajamas. It gets cold up there at night.”
“I sleep naked.” Andrew says sharply before turning away to enter his home as I enter mine.
My body tightens at the memory of lying beside him last night, and I sigh.
When I plug my phone in to charge, the screen lights up with several texts messages, including one from Sean. It’s Saturday morning which means he was out getting drunk, screwing around as usual the night before.
The hot water rains down on me, washing away the remnants of the previous night of turmoil. A pair of ripped boyfriend jeans rolled at the ankle and a long cardigan over a button down shirt make me somewhat presentable for the day. I smooth back my hair into a ponytail and apply a light coating of makeup. I dab on a little extra concealer to hide the dark circles under my puffy eyes, an obvious sign of my lack of rest. My parents won’t care what I’m wearing; they’re just happy I’m heading up for a visit.
