by Rie Warren
She was so limbless I worked quickly and efficiently tugging her shorts into place and tying the drawstring with shaking fingers because any more of her scent or the sight of her combustible body and I would not be able to hold back.
My restraint hardly in place, I picked up her thong I’d destroyed.
Jesus.
Mistake.
I wanted to rub it all over my face then jerk off my cock with it.
I dropped it onto her stomach instead, my eyes latched to that scrap of lace.
Backing off, I knew I’d never forget this night, her taste. The way she obeyed me until the uncontrollable waves of orgasm sucked her under, thrust her over.
“You need to go to your room now, Reggie.”
“Scared to be around me, Calder?” She rose languorously to her feet.
One minute the kitten. The next a lioness.
I stepped back, crossed my arms over my chest, surveyed her disheveled hair. “Not scared.”
“I think you are,” she purred before her voice dropped a level. “Of me. But that’s okay because I’m scared too.”
Jaw clamped hard, I dragged my gaze away. “G’night, Reggie.”
I didn’t say another word, just turned on my heel, locked the front door, and started upstairs. With a stiff fucking pole in my jeans.
I stalked to my bedroom, shut the door. Her scent was on my skin. My face. My fingers.
I paced around until I figured Reggie could probably hear the creak of the floorboards as I tried to settle my mind. Settle my body the fuck down.
An hour later, still on edge, I padded downstairs as quietly as possible. In the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of water and guzzled half of it. Light sent a soft yellow bar beneath Reggie’s closed door when I glanced down the hallway, and I gravitated that way in spite of my best intentions.
I pressed my head against the wood, palm braced against it.
“I know you’re out there, Calder.”
“Mind reader all of a sudden?”
“You have big feet. I can see the shadow under the door.”
Feet aren’t the only big thing I have.
“You can come in already.” She granted me entry.
I hesitated.
“I promise not to ravish you if you’re just wearing boxers,” she called out with a lilt of humor.
I smiled, cracking the door to shove my head inside. “I hate boxers. You know that.”
“Briefs. Whatever.” She raised both her hands. “I won’t attack.”
I entered after an adjustment to my shorts—because no fucking way was I walking around in front of Reggie wearing what I usually wore to bed. Which equaled absolutely fucking nothing.
She reclined on the bed, an old white T-shirt slipping off her shoulder.
I noticed the Crimson Tide emblem on the shirt and narrowed my eyes. “That’s mine.”
“Was yours.” Her eyebrows arched wickedly. “I borrowed it years ago. After you got drafted from ’Bama.”
“Stole it, more like,” I grumbled, but the same spark I’d always felt knifed right through me at the idea of her sleeping in my shirt.
And nothing else.
Christ on a cross. Not another damn boner. I’d just talked the last one down.
Reggie patted the bed.
“We shouldn’t get too close.” Obviously. Mr. Hard-On had started rearing his hefty head again.
She snorted. “You keeping your virginity intact, or is it you who wants to ravish me?”
Laughter, like always, spun between us. I sat beside her, one arm braced over her. “Think I ravished you earlier.”
An incredibly pretty blush lit her cheeks.
She turned her face into the pillows.
I touched her cheek then drew my hand away. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Christ, Calder. I practically begged you to eat my pussy then you went total Puritan on me.” A flash of anger spun through her eyes when she pushed up to sitting.
“Quaker maybe.”
“Right. But I think it’s the Mormons who aren’t supposed to masturbate.”
“I’m definitely no Mormon then.” A chuckle lit from inside me, right where all my thoughts about Reggie collided—my chest, my heart.
I rolled an arm around her shoulders. Her face tucked into the nook of my neck. Her breasts rested against me, and her legs, only covered by blankets, wound over mine.
“I love you, Calder. I always have.”
Love is not in love.
I kissed the crown of her head, lost in the scent of her perfume.
“What we did.” Her fingers gripped mine. “What we might want. It isn’t wrong, Calder.”
“Feels like it is.” I stiffened immediately.
I eased off the bed, because yeah. It felt so, so right yet completely forbidden.
“Well, whatever this is, I guess it’s out in the open now.” Reggie relaxed back, but her blazing brown eyes burned into me, and in my damn shorts and no shirt—with nothing else to protect me from the invitation she presented—I had to escape.
“Maybe.” I frowned.
“We’ll talk about it more tomorrow then.” She fluffed the pillows before turning onto her side, dismissing me.
I was so hooked on the drug that was Reggie, I needed one last touch before I let her go. I tucked her in, turned off the light, and I kissed her forehead, holding myself above her.
Her lips curved, her breath evened out.
I moved away, taking that tiny moment of peace with me.
“Calder?”
“Yeah.” At the door, I turned.
“Can you leave the hall light on? I don’t like the dark.”
A howling hunger to protect Reggie nearly broke every last shred of my control.
The lioness becomes the kitten.
I left the light on for her.
****
Everything about Reggie was gonna break me in two. Not before my cock broke in two, though.
I hit my bed and turned off the light. I saw the glow from downstairs, because of Reggie’s request.
I didn’t get how she was so damn strong, so completely sexual, then sweetly vulnerable.
She certainly hadn’t been fragile when I’d eaten her out. She was so goddamn close to me—one flight of stairs away instead of a flight cross-country—and her taste lingered on my tongue. I had the perverted thought to retrieve her torn thong. Wrap it around my cock so I could come to the scent of her cunt.
My hand drifted unconsciously down to my cock before I pulled it back in a tight fist.
Dammit to hell. Hadn’t jerked off to her all these years. Wasn’t about to start now.
Great. I was gonna be walking around with a fucking wooden plank in my pants for the duration.
Goddammit. Again. The way she’d asked for the light to stay on . . . Buried every impulse but the protective one.
I stuck my head under a pillow and smelled laundry detergent instead of her pussy on my mouth. I shut my eyes, crushing every urge, wondering how the hell I’d get out of this visit intact.
With her intact.
Without flat-out attacking her. But then she’d wanted me to fuck her. I’d seen it in her eyes . . .
Sleep niggled at me, always one breath away. I rolled to my other side and inhaled. Thought about getting up and lifting more weights.
The next thing I knew I was jerked to sitting by an alarm.
I fumbled for my phone, but the screen was black and the scream still wailed on.
Stubbing my toe as I stumbled out of bed, I nearly crashed to the floor.
The scream turned shrill. Hair on my neck went livewire.
Reggie.
I jumped down the last stairs, pounding into her room. She sat straight up, eyes screwed tight, horrifying sobs wracking her body so hard she was locked rigid.
Every single part of her tight like rigor mortis.
“Shhhh.” I dropped to the bed and pulled her right into my arms, cradling her coldness with my
heat. “It’s Calder. I’m right here, sweetheart. Right here.”
Her belly heaved, breasts too, and giant sobs convulsed her shoulders. But she fought at me blindly, seeking something.
Escape.
Revenge?
Solace.
Fuck. I didn’t know anything except my heart broke wide open as I took her pain into my body.
“God, girl.” I let her rip at me. Scratch my skin. Almost draw blood.
Her screams those of a banshee, Reggie tore through every single last part of my soul.
“He’s gone. He’s gone!”
I cupped a hand at the nape of her neck and dragged her face to my throat.
I clasped her to me, cuddling her. Finally my hard planes, my big palms, my whispered words took her down from the cliff’s edge.
“He is gone, baby. But you are right here. Right here with me.” I took her tears away on my thumbs, fingers caressing her face, too young to know such terrifying pain.
Too young to be a widow.
Reggie wept from the very depths of her soul until my soul ripped apart for her again.
“I wish he hadn’t been alone when he died.” She hiccupped, her face buried against me.
I rubbed a hand down my face then laid my palm on her back. Tears swelled in my eyes, too. Thinking about my brother.
Her husband.
His wife.
My love.
None of that mattered now.
“It would’ve happened so fast.” I hushed. “We have to believe he didn’t suffer.”
Her hand nested on my chest, twitching too near my heart that boomed.
“I should’ve been better,” she whispered.
I gulped. Looked up and blinked to drown the tears in my eyes. “You are perfect. You were so perfect. Reggie, you can sleep now. No nightmares. It’s okay.”
Slipping lower, I brought her with me. My fingers curled in her hair. I kissed her forehead again. I would take all her tears. Ease them away. I’d bear the brunt.
“Stay with me?” she asked.
She’d just hooked my heart again.
“Always.”
Chapter Eight
Morning . . . Sickness?
Reggie
Email. April 29, 2016. Las Vegas.
Dear Calder,
Your folks told me the news. Congrats! Although Remy and Meg sure would’ve loved hearing about it from you firsthand instead of from ESPN, we’re all so proud of you. Carolina Crush draftee! Big move.
Guess what? I bought a house. Vegas, baby. Permanent. My own place. I know, it’s not as earth shattering as what you’ve been up to, but it’s a step forward. I’m starting to breathe again, live again.
Hey, remember when we were best friends and we told each other just about everything? Haha. That’s rhetorical since I know you’ll probably delete this email along with all the others I sent you and never heard back from. But I don’t care.
I miss you so much. I don’t feel like I should have to miss you too. And I care about you. Just know that.
With love,
Reggie
Present day
I SHOULD’VE BEEN ASHAMED in the morning, bright winter sunlight slipping beneath my closed eyelids as I stretched in the warm bed. I’d pretty much begged Calder to eat me out. And, boy, had he ever. Unnnh. And he’d been hurting, wanting, afterward. Still wasn’t enough to convince him to make a real move on me. I’d have blown him, happily, sloppily, and probably come again. The man was fit, big, and so often on my mind these days I didn’t wonder anymore when he’d become the fantasy lover after such a long dry spell.
Then the nightmare from hell, Calder comforting me. His hand smoothing up and down my back, his husky-toned whispers in my ear. His body covering mine.
For solace. Not sex.
And it wasn’t just sex I wanted from him either.
I’d run my brain ragged thinking about him.
Maybe Chris had been a force of nature, but Calder was the quiet storm. The beacon, sometimes bright, sometimes bleak.
I rolled into a warm cave of covers, Calder’s imprint and scent on the dented pillows.
I felt . . . cleansed.
But apparently always for Calder didn’t mean breakfast in bed.
I peeked my eyes open and brought my fingers gingerly to the lids, swollen and sore. Those weren’t the only parts of me swollen and sore. Hot from Calder. My pussy hadn’t had a seeing to like that for a long damn time, and I was just sensual enough to revel for a moment longer in the body-ache. The one that resulted from near-sex, not nights on the stage putting the glamor on.
Listening for Calder, I finally sat up. Emerging from the bedroom, I brushed my teeth, did my business, pressed a cold washcloth over my eyes. Tiptoeing to the kitchen, I felt a little shy, swallowed in the Crimson Tide T I’d taken from him years ago on one of those damn fishing trips. But shy wasn’t usually my thing.
I breathed out when I found the house empty. Coffee started. Two mugs on the counter, Sweet’N Low packets next to a souvenir cup from Tucson. He’d probably bought it for me from one of his trips and never sent it. He knew I had collected a crazy set of mugs.
A note by the Mr. Coffee boasted his scrawl:
Hey, R.
Out for a run. Be back soon. I’ll pick up some breakfast.
C
My heart fluttered at the little courtesy. Imagining his tiny note as a daily occurrence.
Shivering in my T-shirt, I poured a cup of java before jacking up the thermostat. Mr. Hottie kept it at a cool sixty-five degrees in the dead of a South Carolina winter, and this girl needed at least seventy-five all the time.
The door banged open just as I was warming up, bringing a cool gust and a huge man in sweats and a hoodie, bearing bags on both arms like the weights he easily lifted. Sweat sprinkled Calder’s brow, and he shoved the hood back. Placing the bags on the counter, he pecked me on the cheek.
“Get off. You’re cold!” I shoved him away. “And sweaty. Go take a shower.”
Cheeks ruddy, eyes piercing, beard shadowy . . . And I didn’t mind the sweat at all, but I hadn’t composed myself just yet.
Oh Lord. He’s delicious. Ripe. Ready. Heady.
Then he broke the spell, saying with a smirk, “Yes, Mom.”
“If you look at your mom that way, we really do have a problem.”
“Hmmm. What about my sister-in-law?”
“We’re not related by blood.” And no longer by marriage either.
Calder’s silvery-grey eyes shuttered down at that unsaid truth. He backed away, his scent swirling like a cold fog as he retreated to the shower upstairs.
I grabbed what looked like a sandwich that was marked with my name from one of the bags. A bagel with the works—lox, cream cheese, and capers.
He knew exactly what I wanted. Always.
I refilled my coffee, meandered into the living room. A big TV, another iPhone dock-speaker set-up, photos on the mantle of the fireplace.
Pictures I knew so well my heart tripped.
There was Chris, in his dress blues with an American flag in the background.
Another—my favorite—showed Chris and Calder with me sandwiched between them on a bright sunny day. Smiles plastered on our faces.
Love surged in my heart.
I wiped my fingers off and took the photo in my hands.
“That’s my favorite too.” Calder snuck behind me.
“We were all so young.” I set the frame back then swiped my eyes.
“Hell. We were wild.”
“That too.” I turned, and Calder stepped back, his coffee mug held between us.
A barrier.
“I miss him.” He shrugged, once again in jeans.
Shirt open at his chest, shoulders stretching the seams, and an ache spread from him to me.
I set my cup down. “Me too.” I traced his cheek, his jaw. “But I miss you as well. You’re alive, Calder. So am I.”
“It’s not right to feel t
his way.”
Whereas I would’ve called complete bullshit on him last night, I felt softer this morning.
I sat, patting the cushion next to me.
I wondered how hard I’d have to go at him before he understood or if the softer approach worked better.
My eyes flicked low just briefly enough to realize Calder was already straining in his jeans, the buttery soft old fabric tested by his cock when he sat beside me.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said.
“Are you referring to my breakdown or my orgasm?”
He straightened up.
His jaw hardened. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
I forced a laugh. “So I made you tongue me until I saw stars?”
“Goddammit, Reggie.” He stomped to his feet, slammed his cup on the coffee table. “What the hell do you want from me here?”
“I’m not sorry about last night.” He opened his lips to speak, but I hushed him. “Not one single bit of it.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I rose.
Flummoxed, Calder kept putting space between us. “What exactly are you saying?”
“Is it really that much of a mystery?” I tucked my hands in his, turning my palms so his fingers fit mine. “I know Chris emailed you, probably more than he did me. I know he told you things weren’t working between us.”
Calder’s fingers clenched mine. “It doesn’t matter. He was a damn good man. My brother. Your husband.”
“Yes. He was. He was all that.” I let go. Sat down. Buried my fingers in my hair. “Our marriage was over. Last tour. He knew it.” I couldn’t bear to look at Calder. “The constant unknown. His withdrawal. Our timing was never right. He didn’t want to start a family . . .” I raised my eyes. “He was never coming back to me.”
Tight tension strung out between us.
Silence nearly pulled me apart, and I watched Calder crouch in front of me. “You and Chris . . . you both told me things I didn’t wanna know.” He looked up, lips stretched thin. “You were unhappy.”
“He was too.”
“He wanted me to take care of you.”
“I’ve always been pretty good at taking care of myself. I had to be after my parents died,” I said. “Then I met the Malone brothers.” I clasped his face between my hands. “Whatever happens, I don’t want you to hate me,” I whispered, twisted up inside.
