by Whitley Cox
But he wasn’t going to let her shut him out like this. He pushed on the door, forcing her to open it. “Tessa, why didn’t you tell me your mother had early-onset Alzheimer’s?”
Her hand fell away from the door, and her jaw went slack. “How did you … ” Anger flashed in the deep blue streaks of her eyes. “Did you go see my mother?”
Shit.
She took a step back into her apartment, her chest rose and fell rapidly and an angry red crawled up her neck
“I did,” he confirmed with a sharp nod following her into her apartment.
Her ire didn’t matter at the moment though. He had something he needed to straighten out first, and she would just have to listen to him. She could pound his chest with her little fists later.
“Atlas, why did you go see my mother?” Her jaw snapped shut tight, and her nostrils flared.
“I wanted to find out what made you slip away the way you did today. I called Isobel and Violet and finally Zara. Zara told me where your mother lived. Why didn’t you tell me about the Alzheimer’s?”
Her eyes flared, filling with more fury. The blue darkened to the color of twilight, while the red in her chest spread up her neck and into her cheeks. She looked beautiful, despite how much she probably wanted to punch him in the jaw. “Because it’s none of your damn business,” she snapped. “Have you ever thought maybe there was a reason I haven’t brought you to see my mother?”
“And yet you took my baby?”
She rolled her eyes. “Big difference.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? What were the reasons? Are you ashamed of me that I’m a single father? A widower?” He couldn’t wrap his head around her reasoning, and just as her wrath was beginning to build, so was his. He thought they had something. He thought he was falling in love with her and she with him. But you couldn’t have love if there was no trust. And she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about her mom.
Was she who he thought she was?
Did he know her as well as he thought?
Did he know her at all?
“Ever think it was never about you?” Her voice came out as a pissed-off hiss. “That maybe I wasn’t ready to show you that part of my family. That I wasn’t ready to show you the person who hardly ever remembers who I am, and when she does, she usually ends up yelling at me? Maybe I just wanted to keep that part of my life hidden for a bit longer, before you met her and changed your opinion about me.”
So she was ashamed of her mother? She didn’t strike him as the type of person who would be like that. She worked in the field of psychology. She of all people had to understand that the Alzheimer’s wasn’t her mother’s fault. It was a horrible disease that was beyond anyone’s control.
“Are you ashamed of your mother, then? If you’re not ashamed of me … ”
His anger began to subside, though hers seemed to continue to grow.
“I’m not ashamed,” she said, though he could tell she was really struggling to keep her tone in check, to keep her anger from escalating. “I love my mother more than anything. It’s just been really hard these last few years, and I typically don’t introduce people to her right away. She can be a bit … ” Clenching her jaw, she averted her gaze, her nostrils flaring, the cords in her throat tight. “I just don’t introduce her to people right away, okay? It’s not that I’m embarrassed … it’s just … easier.”
Well, fuck, now he felt like the king of douches. Scratch that, Carlyle was the king of douches. The fucking Emperor of Doucheville, but at the moment Atlas felt like the Town Fool or congressman of Doucheville.
Taking a small step toward her, he dropped his voice to a gentle whisper. “I understand.”
Her gaze softened just a touch, but it turned from angry to skeptical. “Do you?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry,” he continued to speak softly, not wanting to spook her. “You just scared me when you dropped Cecily off and acted the way you did. I know you have a lot going on right now, and I just wanted to see if I could help. I’m also very protective of her. For not even a year old, she’s been through a lot.”
He closed the door behind him and approached her, his hands resting on her hips. She glared up at him, but he could see her walls beginning to crumble. She was cute when she was angry. Her hands on her hips, her nostrils flaring, her mouth all pursed-like, eyes flashing blue flames.
They were toe-to-toe now. Her throat worked a couple of times, but she still said nothing.
He invaded her space even more until there wasn’t even room for air between them. “Forgive me.”
One eyebrow drew up. “I didn’t catch the inflection on the end of that.”
He resisted the urge to smile. “Because it wasn’t a question.”
“You breached my trust. You went behind my back. It needs to be a question. You can’t just demand I forgive you. You still have secrets too, Atlas Stark, and I don’t pry. The trust thing goes both ways. Trust me to tell you more about my family when I’m ready.”
Fuck, she was right. He’d stepped over the line. Invaded her privacy, broken her trust. He’d been so hell-bent on figuring out what had upset her that he didn’t even think he was invading her privacy. He didn’t want the nurse telling her he was there because he worried that would just upset her more. He wanted to be the one to tell her. He just never dreamed she’d react the way she did, even though she had every right.
“I’m an ass,” he said sheepishly. “I’m sorry I went behind your back. Forgive me?” This time he made sure to add an inflection on the end of that so she knew it was a question.
The eyebrow that had been lifted twitched. “You’re an ass.”
That made him smile. “I’m an ass, and you love it. You love that I care so much I do asshole things sometimes.”
“I do, do I?” The corner of her mouth lifted on one side. More of the fortress she’d built around herself had begun to tumble down. Brick by brick.
Warm puffs of air from her lips hit his, and she blinked up at him with more love in her eyes than the fire and fury that had been there a moment ago. Now the flames that flickered were of passion … need. A need he felt himself deep down in his bones. A need he hadn’t felt so strongly in a very long time.
“Atlas?” Her voice was now a breathy whisper.
“Hmm?” He nuzzled his nose against hers.
“Don’t ever do anything like that again.”
And that’s why this woman had his heart in the palm of her hand. She was so damn strong—and fierce—even when she didn’t think she had the power to go on.
“I promise.”
She smiled, and her lips brushed his. “Good.”
He was tired of the talk. Their bodies could speak for them. He dipped his head low and crushed his mouth to hers, taking her face between his hands, plundering all that she offered him. She opened for him, her arms looping around his neck and fingers threading into his hair, tugging him against her, down to her—almost frantically.
Within moments, their clothes were almost completely off and he was backing her up toward the couch.
“No,” she said, in between kisses, “bedroom.”
Okay, fine, whatever. He’d taken her on a desk the first time and a couch every time after that. He welcomed the wide expanse of a bed for once.
In nothing but his boxers, and her in no more than her bra and panties, he scooped her up and laid her gently on her bed, taking in every exquisite inch of her.
Her bottom lip rolled inward, and her top teeth caught it as she cocked one leg slightly and slid her fingers over her torso and up her sides. “You going to just stand there and watch?” Her grin was small, her voice sweet. She was still hurting from whatever had gone down with her mother and from what she considered a betrayal from him, but she was also welcoming the distraction.
So was he. Tessa was a distraction from the bedlam in his life. A distraction he never wanted to let go of.
He dipped one knee in the bed and crawled up her body,
pinning her beneath him. “Would you let me just watch?” He drew his nose up her neck and nipped at her jaw. “Just stand there and take in you bringing yourself pleasure all the way to climax. Could you do it?”
She hummed as he angled up on one arm and let his fingers tickle along her ribcage, then dip down over her abdomen and beneath the elastic of her white cotton panties.
Her neatly trimmed hair was already damp, and when he explored further, he found her not just damp—the woman was saturated.
“Seems like you could get there on your own quite easily,” he said, pushing one finger and then another into her tight channel. She squeezed around him and moaned.
“I could, but I’d much rather you be an active participant.” Her breathy voice buzzed past his ear like a zephyr, followed by a sharp inhale when he raked his thumbnail over her clit. She shivered and dug her nails into his biceps, arching her back so his fingers inside her changed their angle.
“Atlas,” she whispered.
“Hmm?” His teeth scraped along her jaw again.
“Quit playing games. I don’t need foreplay. I need you.”
I need you.
He lifted his head and withdrew his fingers from inside her, but not before raking his thumb over her clit once more, causing her to tremble and her hips to jerk off the bed. Without taking his gaze off hers, he kneeled up on the bed and slid her panties down her legs. She made quick work of her bra, and he pushed his boxer briefs down his thighs enough to let his cock spring free. A drop of precum beaded on the tip, and taking his length in his palm, he ran the pad of his thumb over the tip, swirling the drop around until the purple head glistened.
“Why are you torturing me?” She spread her knees and reached for him with outstretched arms, her fingers making a gimme, gimme motion.
“Am I torturing you?” Settling in between her creamy thighs, he reached between their bodies and lined them up, teasing her slick heat with his crown. She pushed down so more of him entered her.
“You are torturing me,” she whined. “Please, just … ”
He swirled his hips, only teasing that first inch of sensitive nerve bundles inside her. “Just what?”
Her nails scratched his arms until pain shot through to his fingers. “Just fuck me already.”
She rarely ever swore, so he knew when she did, she meant business.
“Yes, ma’am.” He surged forward, claiming all of her in one hard, solid thrust that pushed an oof from her lungs, followed by a contented sigh.
“Finally,” she breathed. “About damn time.”
Rolling his eyes and smiling down at the woman who fascinated him more each day, he began a slow, lazy rhythm. One he knew would drive her mental. He wanted to take his time with her, draw her orgasm out until it damn near killed her, only for his kisses to resurrect her like Snow White and for them to do it all over again.
In and out he pumped, taking his time to retreat, swirl the head of his cock around her hot, tight opening, only to languidly slide back inside to the base. Her squirms and whimpers of pleasure and impatience galvanized him. He could tell she was getting frustrated that he wasn’t going faster, but she was also really fucking enjoying everything he was doing.
Dipping his head, he drew a hard nipple into his mouth and scissored his teeth before sucking it hard between his lips. The groan from deep in her chest caused his balls to draw up tight against his body and his cock to twitch inside her.
Fuck, he also knew that when he went slow, it made him get close too quickly. He was going to blow before either of them was ready if he kept this going much longer.
“Gonna lick your clit now,” he murmured, enjoying the pink flush to her cheeks from his dirty talk. He went to pull out and away, but her nails dug even more into his arms, and she locked her ankles around his back.
“No, you’re not. You’re going to stay right here and fuck me until we come.”
Her walls squeezed like a vice around his cock, and she lifted her hips to change the angle and take him deeper.
Ah, fuck. He wasn’t going to last very long.
His rhythm picked up, but it was already becoming erratic. He had wanted to savor her, bring her to the brink, then tug her back, only to finally give her one hard push so that instead of falling, she felt like she was flying.
That wasn’t going to happen this time.
Fuck, he was like a damn seventeen-year-old with how quick he was going to come.
Fuck.
“Atlas,” she moaned in his ear, swiping her tongue around the shell and then nipping the lobe with her teeth. “So good. Too good.”
“Fuck, baby. Gonna come.”
“Me too.”
Her nails dug trenches into his biceps as she broke with a sharp cry, her body bowing on the bed, tits pointed up to the ceiling. He latched onto a nipple again and tugged, knowing that it would heighten her pleasure as well as prolong it.
Her groan of approval made his balls cinch up and his cock throb. Then he was coming. Every quiver of her pussy sent lightning straight through him, zinging left and right into his limbs, only to double back and land hard in his balls.
He released her bud and tucked his head in the crook of her shoulder, riding out the remainder of his release with her sweet scent surrounding him. Her own orgasm ended with a rush of warm air fleeing her lips and hitting his cheek, her body growing lax beneath his.
“Just because I’m a grumpy fuck doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me,” he murmured into her shoulder, laving off a bead of sweat. “I’ve been told I’m a decent listener … for a man.”
That made her laugh, which was exactly what he was after. Her laugh was fuel for him. Her smile a balm that soothed the chronic ache he felt in his heart. He knew he’d never be completely over the loss of Samantha, but Tessa was someone special, and he knew Samantha would approve.
“Well, David certainly seemed to be a good listener. The jury is still out on this Atlas fellow.”
That earned a chuckle from him at the same time he levered up onto his elbow and untucked his face from the crook of her neck. He glanced down at her. Her eyes held that glassy, content, just-fucked look, and pink still colored her cheeks. “I mean it, Tess. If you want to talk about what went down with your mother, I’m here.”
Her smile was sweet but not entirely convinced. She strained up and kissed him on the lips, just a brush, but it nonetheless sent a jolt straight back down to his balls. “Thank you. And when I’m ready, we can talk about it. My mother’s diagnosis is really hard for me to talk about. Even though it’s not a new diagnosis, it’s progressing rapidly, and since losing my dad, it’s been tough to deal with.”
He understood that. It was still really hard to talk about Samantha a lot of the time. Aria only brought her up once in a while. He felt guilty for how blatantly he avoided Samantha’s parents back in Portland. She was their only child, and the loss of their daughter had hit the Nelsons incredibly hard. For the first six months after her passing, they had pretty much become recluses. He couldn’t, because of Aria, even though he felt as if he’d locked his heart away like a recluse.
Now that the Nelsons had come back out of their grief a bit, they asked to see Aria, and he did the best he could. But Gina Nelson looked a lot like her daughter, and their house had been turned into a bit of a shrine to their daughter, so he found it tough to go.
“You’re thinking awfully hard there, Mr. Stark.” She clenched her muscles around him. He was growing soft and was going to slip out soon if they didn’t adjust their position.
He rolled off her but turned onto his side to face her. “Just thinking about my own losses. I get that you’re not ready to talk about it. Even though your mom is still alive, the mother you knew and grew up with is no longer there, so it still feels like a loss. I understand that you’re grieving, and I’ll let grieve in your own way.” He cupped her cheek. “Just know that you’re not alone in this if you don’t want to be. Just like you did for me after Tamsin died,
I can just sit in the quiet with you if you don’t want to be alone but also don’t want to talk. Sometimes just having someone there is enough.”
She blinked suddenly spiked lashes, and a tear slipped down the side of her head as she turned to face him as well, placing her hand over his where it cupped her face. “Thank you. This means more to me than you could ever know. I’ve felt alone in my grief for a long time. Even with Carlyle, I still felt alone.”
“I get that. It’s amazing how alone in your grief you can feel even when you’re surrounded by people.”
She turned her face into his palm and kissed it, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to his shoulder. “I love you, Atlas.”
His quick draw of breath made her pull back. Her eyes held a worry that made his own chest grow tight.
“I … Tess.”
She retreated across the bed and swung her legs over the side. “Never mind. I should never have said it. I was caught up in the moment. The orgasm, your kind words … ” She tugged a robe from a chair next to her bed over her body. “Just forget I said anything. “
Shit.
He was up off the bed as fast as his legs could carry him, cutting her off before she made it to the bathroom and could shut him out with the door. “Tess … ” He took her hands in his and bent his knees so they were eye to eye. “I … I’ve never loved another woman before. Never. I do love you. I just … I don’t want to hurt you. I’m still healing. We both are. Slow is best for us right now, right?”
Her lips pursed into a thin line, and she gave him a curt nod before pulling her hands from his, retreating to the bathroom and closing the door in his face.
He raked his fingers through his hair as he went on the hunt for his pants.
Fuck him. They’d had a great fuck and he seemed to have gotten through to her, and then he had to go and fuck it all up. He knew he loved her. He was just afraid of what saying it out loud would mean. Love was equal parts terrifying as it was beautiful. Because when you let yourself love someone, when you allowed another person to become infinitely important to you, you had to face the fact that you might lose them. And he’d already lost enough people he loved to last a lifetime.
