Notes in Love

by Hetherington, Megan

  “I’m not hungry, Lacey. Not for food anyhow.” His voice is low and rumbly and it lands deep in my stomach, spreading a heat down to the top of my legs.

  I gulp, resting my trembling fingers onto one box. “You sure… because… Amber she…” I gasp in diminishing gulps of air in between my words.

  Slowly, he rounds the island, my heart beating louder with each of his steps, and he stands flush to me. His dimple appears and deepens with his sultry smile. He maintains eye contact while he shoves all the boxes of leftovers back into the fridge and cocks shut the door.

  I suck in my bottom lip while the air around us crackles with sexual tension. Holy shit. My chest feels like it’s in a vice and he’s ratcheting the pressure with every breath.

  “Can I?” he asks, as he draws a finger and thumb to my chin and slowly angles my face to his. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to. So tell me now if this is not happening.” His thumb grazes across my lips. “Because with every muscle in my body… I… want… you.” I fixate on his mouth as he speaks. Each word orated with lips I want to kiss. “You okay with that?”

  Horrified and elated in one unfathomable emotion, I can’t explain how I feel about his question, yet I yearn for his touch. So I do something I never thought possible. I take hold of the collar of his tee shirt, screw it into a ball in my fists, and yank him toward me.

  “I want you too,” I whisper with a hoarse voice.

  His eyes cloud over with desire and I’m done for.

  A warmth heats and spreads from my lips to my toes as I press my mouth to his.

  He tastes of peppermint and lust.

  My nipples tingle and tighten against the lace of my bra, and I slide my hands down his built chest and around his waist to stop myself from falling down.

  His tongue teases at the seam of my mouth and gently he pushes it inside, a heady swirl of hormones and emotions flood through me. The kiss is full of everything I can pour into it—every positive and negative emotion going. And I have an urge to rip his clothes off right here, right now, in this family kitchen with everyone and anyone likely to catch us.

  When, finally, the kiss softens and I pull back, my heated lips tingle for more and our eyes lock together in a deep, yearning exchange.

  “I’m sorry about what I said this morning, Colt. It was wrong to say that you made me feel like a hookup, because you didn’t. That was my excuse.”

  His forehead lowers onto mine, and we breathe for a while. The player is vanquished, and a soft-centered man wrapped in hard muscle, presses against me.

  “Lacey, I’m all in with you, and I’m prepared to take my chances. Is that okay?”

  I’m confused by what he means, but my body is on fire right now and there’s only one thing that will quench it.

  “Yes.”

  “Good, because I’m gonna worship your body until you want nothing more… and can handle even less.”

  Holy smoke.

  My pulse whooshes in my ears and I barely hear him tell me he’s taken the muffins out of the oven. Damn them. I’ll get up early, buy some from Alma’s, whatever it takes not to stop this moment.

  I resist the pull of his hand on mine as he attempts to lead me out of the kitchen and whisper up to him when he turns. “Have you ever… taken a woman into my room?”

  He searches my eyes for a meaning behind my question. “No.”

  “Will you make love to me there?” I want nothing to put me off like it did last night. No ghosts. No conflicting images. And most definitely no rope.

  Without answering, he turns, my hand linked into his and he leads me silently upstairs.

  With each step my breaths grow heavier and I swallow nervously as he hesitates outside of his old bedroom door. My room. The TV blares out from the double doors at the end and Amber sounds as if she is doing an aerobic workout in her room. Colt glances at me, the dark fervent lust still heavy in his eyes. He pushes open the door and we both step into the dimly lit space. I close the drapes, and he stands as if he’s never done this before. This room has affected his experienced ways; shunted to one side his game plan. And I feel we are on a more level ground.

  He switches on a night light, and I pause for a moment. I don’t want him to see me. Or my scars. I put the radio on and One Night Standards by Ashley McBryde is playing. Colt turns it down.

  I remove his top with shaky hands. And he lets me. The skillful maneuvers he demonstrated last night are absent. And for a nervous moment we stand facing each other, the prominent ridge in his jeans hard up against my stomach.

  This is it, the moment of no return. A deeply carved line is laid out on the floor between my past and future, and the gatekeeper stands before me with the key.

  Slowly, he raises a hand, feathering the side of his palm up my outer arm and leaving a trail of nettled skin in its wake. Lifting my hair, he cradles my cheeks and kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before. It’s all consuming and powerful. And still I want more. I give it all I can. Give him all I can.

  His fingers curl into my hair, pulling at the strands, as he walks me back toward the bed. His kiss deepens further. Hot and hungry. On the brink of devouring me.

  Each of his powerful thigh muscles tense and release against my body. It’s overwhelming. He’s overwhelming. But I like it. I like it so much I feel desperate in my need for this frenzied exchange to consume me. I want to be sucked into the vortex of his passion and for my head to spin uncontrollably.

  I drop to the mattress, giving my trembling knees some relief. He towers over me, bare-chested. I’ve seen his body before and savored how delicious it looks. But from this angle, and the way his breathing labors, it’s utterly magnificent. There are shadows under ridges on his abdomen and I have a close up of the muscles that angle down below the waistband of his jeans. An ache thrums between my legs as I grow desperate for his touch.

  I focus in the moment, not letting any memories or negative emotions trickle in to spoil this.

  I want this.

  I need this.

  To move on with my life, I have to release myself from the fears of my past. With someone who knows none of it. Who can’t pity me or pussy foot around. Who takes me for who I am now.

  Colt tilts, pushing me back onto the bed with his lips. Hot. Needy. Forceful. My libido catapults into overdrive.

  My palms run hungrily up and down the taut muscles that decorate his back and my fingernails skit over his tanned skin.

  He sinks to his knees and pulls down my jeans, resting his chin and nose onto my mound. As much as I want him to pleasure me like that, I need him to take me before I change my mind. So, I hook my hands under his armpits and coax him back up to me.

  “I need you, Colt.” My voice is hoarse with desire.

  He groans up the tender part of my neck. His teeth graze across my jaw and he nuzzles into my neck, kissing and sucking down to my collarbone. I stretch out my neck, my back, and push my breasts up to him.

  My knees draw up, like they’re on strings and operated by an invisible puppeteer, until they press on either side of his thighs and I can lift my hips. I let out a long moan as I savor the relief at being able to rub hard against him. He trails his nose down my cleavage and massages my breast with a strong hand. His fingers curl into my bra and he roughly pulls the cup and my shirt aside. A taut breast strains over the top of it; my nipple is hard and desperate for his touch. He teases it between his finger and thumb and I cry out, on fire with longing.

  He turns up the radio volume.

  I sit up to let him pull off my remaining garments and quickly I lay back down before he sees my back. I have a few scars and marks on my waist, but it is my back I’m most conscious of. He can’t see it now. There’s no opportunity for questions. Not until later, at least.

  Goosebumps shatter across my flesh and he lightly rubs his calloused hands across the sensitized skin, sending flashes across my nerve endings that make my back arch up to him.

  There’s no pause. No oppo
rtunity for any emotional wounds to rip open.

  He’s soft, yet persistent, and flicks every pleasure switch I have.

  He tilts back and unclips the large buckle on his jeans, sliding out the thick leather belt in one continuous motion. I close my eyes, to fight away the anguish. I can’t let my fears overcome me now.

  I hear the buckle hit the floor and I open my eyes in time to catch him unbutton his jeans. His thick cock bounces out and I gasp, entranced with how perfect it is. He strokes it unashamedly as he rolls on a condom. It’s utterly beautiful, and I grow slick at the sight.

  Effortlessly, he pushes his jeans down his legs and pauses for a moment in all his naked glory above me. Then he kneels on the bed in between my legs.

  And my mind screams out with what that means.

  This is happening.

  Very soon, I will feel Colt Corrigan inside me.

  And the last man to be there will be him, finally banishing all those difficult memories. I close my eyes against that thought and focus on the dull heat as Colt pushes in. His breath is hot in my ear.

  He lets out a stifled moan and his eyes flicker and I force mine to stay open to watch the sensations skitter across his face. “That feels so good,” he growls.

  I gasp at his words.

  “So beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers as he stills deep inside me. His compliment means nothing to me because I don’t believe it is true. But I love that he is talking to me during all this. It’s like he acknowledges I’m here. With him. And this is for both of us.

  I’m full of him and it’s everything I need, but I still want more. I have to feel him move so my body doesn’t shut down. I need him to continue to talk to me, to drown out the voices of my ugly past.

  I dig my nails into his backside and he slides out with a deliciously slow, long movement. The muscles on his backside push against my fingertips. I tingle at the emptiness and pulse with want as he hovers above me. The end of his cock thrumming onto my clit.

  “Colt?”

  He answers me with a tilted hip thrust. I scream out as he hits my G spot. He stills again, biting down on his lip and taking a deep breath. We throb together; delicious waves pulse through my body.

  “I’m going to take this slow,” he hisses. “I want us to remember everything about our first time. Every single second of it.”

  Slowly, slowly, he inches out; the muscles in my inner walls reach out to grab hold of him and bring him back in.

  His hand hangs above me, his stare owns me. “This is only the beginning of a very long night.” He rumbles, his pupils dilate as he fills me again with an achingly slow push.

  “Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Every nerve end sings out as an orgasm builds.

  “You like?” he whispers.

  I force my eyes open to watch the devilish dimple appear on his left check. And I try to answer him but my throat is frozen; every muscle is at mercy to my rumbling orgasm.

  Then, with languid, lazy strokes, he pushes in and out, each time from the very tip down to a cervix-punching root. His mouth feeds on mine. One hand kneads my breast, the other balances him as he circles his hips and gyrates inside me. A steady, slow rhythm that has me in a perpetual orgasmic state for what seems like days.

  I’m fully sated when he eventually stills. Salty sweat drips from his forehead on to my top lip. The only movement his cock pulsing inside of me.

  His glistening chest nestles against mine and he peppers kisses over my neck and collarbone, where he pays lingering attention to a ragged scar that runs underneath the prominent bone on one side. I close down the thought of it and I pant in his ear, unable to speak but desperate to tell him how utterly perfect that was.

  My body and mind glows. And I commit the feeling to memory. Determined that whenever a dark thought burrows into my consciousness or a terror threatens to crack open a dream, I will remember this moment of lying in Colt’s strong arms and his heart beating honestly against my warm skin as I float on a cloud to a blissful sleep.

  Fourteen

  Lacey

  Fingertips trace across my cheek, tickling me awake.

  “Wake up, sleepy head.”

  I blink open my sleep-filled eyes, amazed that the sun is high in the sky already.

  “We’re late.” I frantically try to move my languid muscles into a sitting position. My overthinking brain in overdrive. Mrs. Corrigan will starve, like an emaciated prisoner in her bed. The ranch hands will cuss at their boss not showing up. Colt has seen all my scars and regrets every minute of last night.

  “Shush.” Colt leans in and kisses my mouth until my head sinks back into the pillow, my heartbeat returns to a normal rhythm and the panic subsides. Although my embarrassment remains.

  Eventually he straightens; his golden eyes alive and bright. “There’s no rush.” His finger glides down my nose, across my tingling lips and stutters across every ridge on my neck.

  With twinkling eyes, he pulls his lip in between his teeth and lets it slowly plump back out. “How you feeling this morning?” His question and facial expression are loaded with innuendo, and I arch my back off the mattress and squeeze together my thighs in answer. This display of unadulterated affection catapults my libido into the stratosphere. And, in case I’m in any doubt about how he’s feeling, he rolls his hips until his hard length presses against my leg.

  My body aches, and pulses deliciously where it is sore. We made love maybe four times last night, and the only reason I’m not sure is because at least once there was no pause in between. Each time a luscious, lazy luxury. And although he saw my scars—traced a finger or a placed kiss over them—not once did he ask me about them.

  I giggle as he tweaks my sensitized nipple. This carefree sound is a novelty for me.

  “Did I tell you last night how beautiful you are?”

  I smile. “I don’t remember, did you?” I writhe against the continuous torture he subjects my nipple to.

  He pulls back, a wounded expression flattens his features before an inevitable grin spreads and the dimple on his left cheek pops awake. I raise my fingertip to it.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  I flick back to his stare. I don’t believe him, but I believe he thinks that. Today, anyhow. Tomorrow may be different again. Or if not tomorrow, the day after. But for now, I love him for saying it and try hard to accept it. Because I know to have any chance of healing, I have to open up and not bat away every compliment.

  But I will never lose a sense of reality. That’s a given. Whichever fairytale prince comes my way, I’m too damaged to accept I will be their forever princess. I’ve seen too many dark knights manipulate women into thinking they are entitled to a happily ever after, only to throw them into the dragon’s lair at the last minute. So for protection, I have grown scales made from an everlasting armor.

  But I can at least seize the moment.

  I bat my eyelashes so I can focus on him. On his dreamy golden eyes, framed by a handsome face that seems so perfect it reinforces my opinion that this is a fantasy. One I don’t deserve to be part of.

  “And you’re beautiful, too.” I cup his face with my hand and luxuriate in the warm skin that wraps around his strong jaw.

  He shifts slightly so he can kiss my open palm.

  “How have you shaved already?” I run my eyes over the rest of his body, visible above the line of the sheets. The sheen of his dry hair. The obvious smell of shower gel.

  “I got up two hours ago. Did some chores and came back to bed to watch you wake.”

  I gasp in fake mockery.

  He laughs with underlying embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Lacey. That’s exactly what I was annoyed about yesterday with you—leaving me to wake up alone, like it was just…” He shakes his head.

  “Oh?” I’m confused. I thought I annoyed him yesterday because we didn’t have sex, not because I left his bed. I didn’t think he wanted that. In my experience, most men don’t. Sex is immedi
ately followed by a kick to the ass. “I’m sorry about that, Colt.”

  He puts a finger to my lips to silence any more of my apology and explanation. “It’s okay. You’re here now and that’s what counts, right?”

  My emotions whirl around as usual, like a black hole in my soul somewhere between dreams and nightmares, never staying put long enough to grab hold of and interrogate.

  He takes hold of my hand and feathers soft kisses from the heel of my palm down to the inside of my wrist. “I thought we might work up an appetite, have breakfast and spend the day together.”

  A horrible sting pricks at the tattooed mark on my wrist, and I slide my hand from his grip. “Okay. You can count me in for the first two, but don’t forget I have your mom to tend to today.”

  He nods. “That’s fine. I’ve dealt with her breakfast and when I’m done with you, the three of us can spend some time together this afternoon.”

  I raise my brows at his comment.

  He hands over a glass of juice. “And that’s your breakfast. For now.”

  He shuffles down the sheets. “And this is mine.” He flashes a wicked grin just before he disappears underneath the duvet and nudges open my legs.

  I slam the glass down on the nightstand at his first lick of my clit before I throw the juice over the duvet, then I clamp my hands across my face with the sheer ecstasy of his touch.

  We make love in the unhindered light of the morning. Eyes open. Exploring every part of each other’s bodies until they are as familiar as our own. Colt saw my scars last night and said nothing, and he still says nothing today. I assume it’s because he doesn’t want to talk about it, as he doesn’t want to talk about anything with women. Or so he told me. I’m happy with that. I want to extinguish my past and I’m willing to be his hookup in return.

  Eventually, and with a great deal of grumbling, I persuade Colt to let me shower and dress so I can go to his mom. I’m not with her that long before he comes to us. He wants to show her some new calves and get her opinion on keeping some of the smaller ones. It’s his way of getting the swing vote against Blue, as I guess Mrs. Corrigan’s view counts more than either of theirs.