I called Paul. “Pick me up out front.”
All the way to Christa’s, my mind churned with infinite possibilities of what could be wrong, and I couldn’t stop the hurt gnawing at my insides that she hadn’t come to me. She’d taken Max and gone home rather than asking for my help, or at least telling me what was wrong. I didn’t like what that said about our relationship.
I rapped on her door. No answer. I knocked again, harder this time.
“Christa, it’s me, Dayton.”
The chain rattled, and then Christa was in front of me, a completely different girl to the one I’d left that morning. I caught a glimpse of a tearstained face covered in angry, red blotches, and then she threw herself into my arms.
Any annoyance or irritation I’d felt disappeared. Something was terribly wrong if the way she clung to me—like a raft on a stormy sea—was anything to go by. I shuffled forward, managing to shut the door behind me.
“Angel, what’s the matter?”
Her whole body trembled as she tightened her hold around my waist. I caught sight of Max over her shoulder sitting on his playmat, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on building a tower of blocks. At least he was okay.
Eventually, Christa allowed me to sit her down. I fetched her a glass of water and waited.
“Sutton’s appealing his sentence,” she said, more tears pooling in her eyes. She squeezed them shut, dashing away those that fell.
Fury boiled inside me. The fuck? I didn’t say that to Christa, though. Instead, I said, “Who told you?”
She glanced over at Max. When she saw he wasn’t paying attention, she said, “Detective Harris called.”
“What did he say exactly?”
She shook her head. “I don’t remember. I panicked. He talked about statistics and how it was very unlikely Sutton would be released.”
I stroked her arm in what I hoped was a soothing manner. “He’s right, Christa. It’s hard enough to overturn convictions in cases of miscarriages of justice, let alone when the perpetrators are as guilty as hell.”
She gave me a wan smile, but I could tell she wasn’t convinced.
“Do you have his number?” I asked. “Let me call him and see what I can find out.”
“I’ll send you his contact details.” She picked up her cell phone and texted his number to me.
I pointed my chin at Max. “I’ll step outside. Little ears and all that.” I closed the door to Christa’s apartment behind me. The hallway was empty. I made the call. Detective Harris was a nice guy, and I got the distinct impression he cared hugely about Christa. He didn’t know very much, other than the appeal was likely to be heard within the next few weeks, but he promised to keep me informed.
“I’m glad she’s found someone,” he ended with. “She’s a special girl, that one.”
I didn’t need convincing.
* * *
“Move in with me.”
Christa’s eyes widened, and she put a hand to her throat. “Dayton, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine, really.”
She wasn’t fine. She constantly tried to reassure me, but ever since she’d received the news about Atwood a few days earlier, she’d turned into a shadow of the woman I knew.
“I’m not being magnanimous,” I said, waggling my eyebrows. “I like the idea of having you at my beck and call.”
She laughed, as I’d hoped she would. “Dream on.”
I captured her hand. “Christa, please. I love you, and I love Max. This is a natural next step.”
“I like my own space.”
“You can have a whole floor if it makes you happy. I barely go upstairs in the penthouse. We can put a nursery up there for Max, with an adjoining playroom, and a living room for when you want to get away from me for a while.” I grinned. “Plus, there are four bedrooms to choose from. You can have any one you like, although I’d prefer it if you shared mine. Come on, Christa. Say yes.”
She nibbled the skin around her thumbnail, her eyes darting between mine. “Okay, we’ll move in.”
I swung her up in the air, the sounds of her giggles warming my heart. It felt like forever since she’d laughed so freely.
“You won’t regret it,” I said.
Determined not to allow her time to change her mind, I organized for an interior designer to come around the following day, putting Christa in charge of any changes she wanted to make. I watched in amusement as she turned her nose up at anything she deemed too expensive, preferring instead to pick items from what she called ‘normal’ stores. By the time the designer had finished two weeks later, my penthouse felt like a proper home.
Max took a while to settle in, but in no time at all it was like he’d always lived here. I got used to falling over his toys and learned to check the floor for Lego blocks before walking around bare foot. Trust me, those little blocks hurt like a bitch when stepped on without suitable footwear.
Christa went into the hospital for her first surgery at the beginning of May. I spent a painful few hours pacing the hallways outside the operating room with Nina by my side, murmuring words of support to me. Fortunately, all went according to plan. When the bandages came off and that horrendous word had been obliterated, both Christa and I cried. She’d still require further surgeries, another four or five according to Dr. Sanchez, but at least she could look at herself in the mirror without cringing. I’d wanted this first operation to be the start of erasing Atwood from her life, but sadly, his upcoming appeal hung over us like a dark cloud, stealing the happiness that should have been ours.
Summer arrived, bringing heat and humidity, but sadly, no news on Atwood’s appeal. Detective Harris called regularly, to keep in touch, but apparently the case had been allocated to another county outside his jurisdiction, so he struggled to access up-to-date information. Still, I appreciated his efforts.
Christa constantly told me she was fine, but as the weeks passed with no news, she became edgy, jumping at the slightest thing. Seriously worried when her weight dropped, I flew over her friend, Isla, for a few days at the beginning of July. That seemed to do the trick. Watching the two of them, heads together, giggling over some piece of gossip in a magazine, or sitting on the floor playing with Max, released the tension that had been riding me for weeks.
But as soon as Isla went back to Seattle, Christa’s edginess returned. Dark circles gave the skin beneath her eyes a bruised, haunted appearance. It was when the nightmares began that I knew I had to do something. One night after work, I waited for her to put Max to bed and then I sat her down.
“Tomorrow, we’re going up to the Cape for a few days.”
She frowned at me. “I can’t. I’m too busy. I’ve got a lot going on at work.”
I laughed. “Good thing you’re sleeping with the boss then.”
“Dayton!” She playfully bumped my shoulder, the most teasing I’d seen out of her in a while. “You can’t just drag me off at a moment’s notice.”
“I think you’ll find I can,” I said. “In the morning, pack a bag for you and Max. We leave at ten.”
She stuck out her tongue. “Jackass.”
I snagged her around the waist and plunked her on my lap. “Is that your way of saying you’d love to come?”
All signs of teasing disappeared. She scraped her nails through my scruff. “It’s been a while since either of us have come.” She sighed. “I’m so sorry, Dayton. I get scared sometimes that you’ll grow tired of me. You didn’t exactly sign up for this, did you?”
I flicked her hair over her shoulder and caressed the exposed skin on her neck. “I love you. I will never let anyone hurt you or Max, and that includes Sutton Atwood. Whatever happens, Christa, I promise you’re safe with me. He can’t hurt you, not anymore, regardless of the outcome from this damned appeal. Come on, let’s go to the beach. It’ll do us all a world of good, not to mention how much fun Max will have. It’s so lovely at the Cape this time of year, cooler than New York. We can spend our days going for long walks, or pla
ying with Max on the beach, and our evenings sitting on the verandah drinking wine and enjoying the sea breeze.”
She stroked my bottom lip with her thumb, then kissed me. “I love you, too. You’re very persuasive, Mr. Somers.”
“I know,” I said cockily. “How do you think I got to be so successful?”
She rolled her eyes. “Jackass,” she repeated.
* * *
“Wow!” Max said, running toward the rear of my beach house as fast as his little legs could carry him.
I slipped my arm around Christa’s waist, and together we followed him. Max slammed his palms against the glass doors at the back of the house.
“Mommy, beach. Me play.”
“In a minute, sweetheart,” Christa said, picking him up. She blew raspberries on his belly, sending him into fits of giggles. “Let’s get unpacked first.”
We’d barely finished putting our things away before Max insisted that he wanted to go down to the beach. Sitting on the sand watching color flood Christa’s cheeks, I knew I’d made the right decision. A week away from everything would reset the equilibrium that had been distorted by the news regarding Atwood. Let that fucker do his worst. I wouldn’t allow him to spoil what Christa and I had.
Later that evening, when Max was settled in bed, I poured us both a drink and, like I’d promised, we sat outside to watch the sun set. As the orange glow in the sky gradually turned to blackness, Christa removed my drink from my hand, put it on the table, then stood.
“Come with me.”
She had a glint in her eye that held an offer I couldn’t refuse.
“Your surgery,” was the only minor protest I made, which Christa dismissed with a flick of her wrist.
“Was weeks ago.”
My cock thickened as I followed Christa into the house, my eyes on her ass as she walked upstairs, her hips swinging in an exaggerated fashion. I closed the bedroom door and went to turn off the light.
“Don’t,” Christa said.
Her eyes locked on to mine, and she slipped down the straps on her maxi dress. The material pooled around her feet, and underneath, she was completely naked. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she crooked a finger at me.
My heart pounded as I joined her. She slid her forefinger into the waistband of my shorts, and the tip of her nail grazed my erection. I groaned, briefly closing my eyes.
“Strip,” she murmured, the word sounding so erotic as it quietly fell from her lips.
I did as she’d asked, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Naked, I waited for her next instruction. This had to be about Christa, about her taking back control of her life. She was in charge of everything that happened from here on in.
She cupped my balls, then sank to her knees and pulled me deep into her mouth. The head of my cock hit the back of her throat, and on instinct, I thrust my hands into her hair.
“God, Christa,” I breathed. “I’ve missed you so much.”
She took me to the very edge, but at the last minute, she stopped. I growled in frustration when she got to her feet. Ragged breaths tore from my lungs as I struggled to regain control. Our gazes collided, mine undoubtedly wild with unfulfilled desire, hers darkly decadent with a hint of mischief. The little minx knew exactly what she’d done.
“I want you to do something for me,” she said.
“Angel, you own me,” I groaned. “I’ll do anything you want.”
She snaked both arms around my neck, her breasts pushed flat against my chest, her pussy tantalizingly close to my dick. If I bent my knees and thrust upward, I’d sink into that warm, wet piece of heaven. But this was Christa’s gig, and whatever she wanted, I would do.
“Fuck me. Not make love to me. I want you to fuck me.”
Ah… taking me to the edge and refusing to let me come now made sense. Christa and I had never fucked. Our connection had always been more than that, more emotional, almost as though we’d bonded, and sex took us both to another level. But as I looked into her eyes, I knew exactly what she needed—to forget. So she’d sucked my dick almost to the point of no return, then made her demands, knowing I’d find it harder to deny her.
I nodded. “Okay, but if it’s too much, you promise you’ll tell me.”
She nodded, her pink tongue dampening her bottom lip once more. A faint tinge of red touched her cheeks, and her eyes filled with excitement. I gathered her hair into a ponytail and tugged downward. Her mouth parted in readiness, but I didn’t go there. Instead, I angled her head to the side and sucked hard on her neck. She let out this sexy-as-fuck keening sound which escalated in volume when I cupped her breast and took her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. I pinched, much harder than I normally would.
“God, yes, just like that.”
I lifted her, hooking her legs around my waist, my hands beneath her ass. I kissed her, roughly thrusting my tongue into her mouth. She gripped me with her thighs and started rubbing her clit up and down my cock. Her nipples grazed my chest with each movement. I turned with her in my arms and slammed her up against the wall. I bent my knees and shoved my cock inside her, hard. If she wanted me to fuck her, I’d fuck her.
Christa’s nails scored my back, urging me on. I answered by sinking my teeth into her earlobe. Our bodies were slicked with sweat, grinding against each other, panting, moaning, praying it never ended.
Still connected, I staggered over to the bed, pulled out of her, then tossed her on top. I gripped her wrists and held them over her head.
“Raise your knees,” I ordered. “Let ’em drop to the sides.”
She didn’t hesitate in obeying my command. The position opened her pussy to me. I pushed inside, far from gently, almost blinded by my own desires, yet still conscious that it was Christa beneath me, the woman I loved, not some one-night stand I’d picked up in a bar.
“Are you okay?” I asked, unable to stop myself from checking on her.
“Fuck, Dayton, don’t ruin it,” she hit back. “Keep going. Harder.”
I groaned. This time it was me obeying her order. I pounded into her over and over, roughly fondling her breasts, pinching her nipples, grabbing the sensitive bend to her waist.
“Put your legs around me, tilt your hips.”
She reacted instantly, repositioning herself. Her moans grew in volume as with every thrust in, my pelvis grazed her clit. At one point, she got so loud, I had to put my hand over her mouth in case Max heard us. That seemed to turn her on even more, and she dug her heels into my ass and ground herself against me.
The walls of her pussy clenched around my dick, and she came, her muffled cries letting me find my own release.
“Fuck, oh fuck.”
I squeezed my eyes closed. Lights flashed behind my lids, and, lightheaded, I came and came and came. I thought my orgasm was never going to stop, but eventually, my cock ceased its violent jerking. I collapsed on top of Christa, my breath coming in gasps. She stroked my back, then threaded her fingers into my hair, kneading at the scalp.
“Thank you,” she whispered in my ear.
I lifted my head, my eyes searching hers. “I met your requirements?”
A genuine smile broke on her face. “No, you exceeded them.”
25
Christa
“You were magnificent last night,” Dayton whispered in my ear, quiet enough so Max wouldn’t hear.
I glanced up at him, then stood on my tiptoes and pecked his lips. “It’s a night I won’t forget in a hurry. Maybe we’ll have to put it on the regular schedule.”
He kissed my neck, then grabbed the pot of coffee I’d put on a few minutes earlier. “That’s definitely possible.”
“Isn’t that an oxymoron?”
“Moron,” Max said. “Moron, moron, moron.”
I rolled my eyes. “Terrific.”
Dayton grinned. “What do you want to do today, Max?” he asked, thankfully distracting him.
“Beach,” Max said, beaming.
“Okay,” Dayton said
. “How about we play on the beach this morning, then this afternoon, we’ll go sailing?”
Max clapped, nodded furiously and shouted, “Boat,” while I widened my eyes. “You have a boat here, too?”
“Not right here. It’s docked about a five-minute drive away.”
“You really are disgustingly rich, aren’t you?”
“Nothing disgusting about being rich,” Dayton said with an eyebrow waggle. “Okay, who wants pancakes for breakfast?”
“Me,” Max and I shouted in unison.
We ate breakfast, cleared up our dishes, and were on the beach by ten a.m. Dayton hired a couple of sun loungers, although why he hired one for himself was beyond me because he spent most of the time sitting on the sand with Max or, as he was doing right then, hoisting him above his shoulders and running through the surf. I took the opportunity to do a little reading, but my mind kept wandering. George still hadn’t heard a thing about Sutton’s case, and despite Dayton’s many gazillions of dollars in the bank, he couldn’t find out what was happening either. If only they’d assigned the case to George’s district, we’d have had an insider who’d be able to find out exactly when the appeal was being heard. As it was, for all I knew, the decision could have already been made.
In the end, I put away the book, closed my eyes, and let the warmth of the sun blanket my body. I drifted off to sleep, awoken by Dayton and Max shaking their salty wet hair all over me.
“You guys!” I yelled, jumping to my feet. “That’s it. Payback time.”
“Come on, Max,” Dayton said, picking him up and sprinting off.
I was laughing so hard, I didn’t have a hope of catching them. “Okay, okay, you win,” I said, holding my aching midriff.
Dayton held up his hand, and Max high-fived him. My heart clenched with love for these two: Dayton, so dark, tanned, tall; Max, blond and fair, as I had been when I was his age. My hair had only started deepening in color when I was around eight. I hoped Max would keep his blond locks, but I doubted it. Both my parents had brown hair, as did Sutton.
Tempting Christa: An Irresistibly Mine Duet - Book 1 Page 20
