“God, Thatcher, do you even get what could happen if—”
“Yes!” he yelled. “I swear to all that is holy that I’m smart enough to realize what the backlash could be. But you know what? I don’t care. My sister is a grown-up and so am I. So are you. We’d all survive.”
“Would we?” I asked, feeling a burning of emotion in my throat as the déjà vu of the words hit me. I’d said the very same thing after the apartment escapade. Why did it feel so much more ominous now?
He took another step forward, and I held up my chin. I would not lose it.
“You’re scared of being hurt again,” he said. “I get that. And I’m sorry I threw that out there at the meeting last night, that was me just reacting and it was wrong. That was private between us.” Another step, and my breathing got shallower. I could touch him if I really wanted to. “But you want to know what scares me and really ticks me off? Watching two people nearly die in front of me, literally within minutes of each other, and then worrying about petty stupid things like who sees what, because time is too fucking short.”
He stopped and took a shaky breath that was more anger than angst, and turned away from me, walking up the steps. I blinked two tears free and whisked them away while I took the seconds to pull in a deep breath. He pulled the screen door open, and it was now or never.
Take the leap.
“You scare the shit out of me,” I said in a rush. He stopped and sighed, like he was exhausted. Yeah, well, welcome to the club. “You asked why I came? That’s why. You’re as real as it gets, Thatcher, and that goes against everything I planned for myself. Yet, when I’m not with you, it’s all I can think about and when I am, I’m just—drowning in it.” I blew out a steadying breath as he let the door go and turned back, his downward gaze focused on something far away. “It terrifies me how much I want you. All of—” I stopped and ran my fingers through my damp hair, my thoughts pinging everywhere. “Not just what we’ve been playing with, but everything. I want everything.” I gasped as I heard those words out loud, and Thatcher’s eyes locked on mine. “It’s not just about losing Micah or jeopardizing the business anymore, it’s about—” I put my hands on my hips to steel myself, and closed my eyes, my chest fighting the emotion that threatened to crest. “I watched you walk away like you were never coming back, and it broke me. I never wanted to catch feelings, but shit, you’re—you are going to kill me,” I whispered.
I heard his footsteps and kept my eyes closed, and when his mouth landed on mine, I let my body feel its way. Hands were in my hair, holding my head so that every kiss went deeper. Every taste drove me a little more mad. The warm scent of him swam around me, blanketing me with a need so staggering I felt as though I’d never get enough. All that anxiety and emotion that wanted to overtake me channeled into feeling more, kissing more, tasting, touching, moving up his body until my fingers raked his hair, pulling him in to me. He made a little growling noise, and my feet left the ground as he picked me up and I wrapped my legs around him.
“Would you like to come in?” he breathed against my mouth, carrying me up the steps.
“I don’t know. Any siblings hiding in there?” I asked against his, moving my lips to his ear. “Anyone expected to need you urgently? Bang a door down?”
He pinned me against the door as I said it, making me gasp as his hardness ground between my legs and fingertips dug into my flesh.
“The only person I care about needing me right now is you,” he said.
“Done,” I breathed.
In seconds, we were inside. My sweatshirt was history as I slid down his body. His T-shirt went with it. I kicked off my shoes, moved a few more steps and my wet tank top and bra came off in one swift motion, my breasts filling his hands and his hot mouth.
I moaned as his tongue sucked at my nipple, fisting his hair in my fingers. We were flying again. Screaming down the tracks, out of control and about to derail, but I didn’t care. We’d built up to this multiple times already, and something needed to derail before we both lost our minds.
Fingers peeled my wet sweatpants down my body, and he discarded them, picking me up and setting me on the cool marble of his kitchen countertop in nothing but my lacy panties.
“Your skin is cold,” he said, sliding his hands up my legs and looping his fingers on my panties.
A shiver that had nothing to do with cold ran through me.
“Yours will be too when you lose these,” I said, reaching for his zipper.
“Not yet,” he said, sucking in a quick breath as my fingers flipped the button and ran just below his waistband. “I need you, first.” His eyes held mine as he slid my panties down my legs, only dropping his gaze when he came back up.
“Sweet Jesus, Gabi,” he said under his breath. His hands moved slowly back upward, while his mouth trailed over my shoulders, my collarbone, and ever so achingly slowly over my breasts. Teasing my nipples to rock-hard pebbles while his fingers drew little circles inside my thighs. It was maddening and intoxicating, and had me moving in a rhythm already. My fingers fisting in his hair, pulling him closer, begging him for more with my body.
“Lie back for me,” he said finally, his breath hot as wet kisses trailed down my belly.
I was shaking as his lips and tongue stopped just above ground zero and moved sideways, dropping kisses back and forth on either side. Squirming with need, my mind bursting with anticipation, I nearly cried when his tongue made landfall, teasing at first with little tastes then circling in a slow dance around my clit.
It had been so long. That—that guy who—whatever his name was—he wasn’t much for this particular—
Thatcher’s lips closed in on the deal, and I bucked against him, crying out in pleasure.
“Oh, God,” I moaned. “Thatch—oh fuck—”
His fingers had joined the game, sliding inside me and curling upward for a slow caress, mocking the delicious tongue action. My legs wrapped around his head of their own accord, gyrating against his mouth. I couldn’t stop.
“Fuck,” he muttered, the gritty vibration of the word against my clit making me grip the countertop edge.
I cried out as he sucked harder, the build coming from my toes, and—oh God, everything was curling—climbing through my veins like heavy molasses, pushing—pushing—I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t take any more. Then everything in me exploded.
Sounds I didn’t recognize broke loose from me, filling the room with guttural ecstasy. I rode that sexy mouth till I had nothing left, no thoughts, no fears, no anxiety, just a limp puddle of flesh struggling to catch a breath. But when he stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the look in his eyes said he was nowhere near done with me.
I smiled and sat up. “Well, that was quite the appetizer, Clark,” I said, taking control of his zipper and releasing him into my hands as his eyes went feral with desire. “When do I get the entrée?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
He had a bathtub. An honest to goodness extra-large clawfoot bathtub that he said he’d wanted to get rid of many times, but I thanked the lucky stars that he hadn’t. Because filled with cheap shampoo for slipperiness and bubbles, it gave a respectable bubble bath, and after making him stand there and watch me get the steamy water ready, both of us totally naked, I couldn’t wait to get super clean.
I got in first, and went to my knees before he could get in, taking the head of his raging hard-on into my mouth.
“Fu—fuck, Gabi,” he cursed, grabbing my hair as though his knees might give.
I circled my tongue around the head, sucking, taking more and pulling back, only to take more the next time. My soapy, slippery hands moved onto his balls and slid along his shaft, bringing a growl from him that sent a wave of desire to my very core.
“Why don’t you get in now?” I said, giving his dick a final lick as I gazed up at him.
“You’
re killing me,” he said, stepping into the water and sitting across from me. “Come here.”
I leaned forward to kiss him, and he turned me around so that my back slid against him in a slippery tease. His cock pushed against the cleft of my ass as his hands came up to palm my breasts.
“Oooh, nice move, Clark,” I breathed, as his teeth nipped at my neck and his thumbs and forefingers rolled my nipples. I arched my back, shoving my bottom against him, and he swore into my hair.
“I can’t take much more, Lois,” he said. “I want you so badly it hurts.” One hand slid down my belly to tease my already swollen clit, and that coupled with his gravelly “please” put me over the edge.
Turning around and straddling him, I leaned over and kissed him softly, thoroughly, reaching under the bubbles and stroking his dick against my clit as I moved against him. His hands went into my hair as a deep groan rumbled in his chest.
“God, you feel good,” I whispered against his lips.
“I need you—”
“I know, so do I,” I said, finally settling down over him on the next stroke.
Primal moans echoed through the bathroom as my muscles squeezed around him and he stretched me out to take him. Oh God, it was more than I—better than I ever imagined, and everything in me tightened and needed to move.
I lifted up a stroke, and he grabbed my hips, digging his fingertips into my flesh.
“Go slow, baby,” he said through clenched teeth. “You feel too fucking good.”
“Not a problem,” I breathed. “I like slow.” Sliding up and down though, feeling him bottom out inside me, was—“Oh, sweet Jesus, Thatcher,” I moaned.
I moved my slippery hands up his chest and adjusted my angle to prolong the ecstatic agony, but it wasn’t going to be denied. He filled every part of me. And as I met his eyes stroke for stroke and saw the passion burning there, the heat, the feelings that weren’t even trying to hide anymore, I picked up speed. He took that cue and grabbed my waist, pumping me on his dick with no mercy, like I weighed nothing.
“Thatcher!” I cried, sucking in a breath that I couldn’t let out.
His face was contorted with exertion, and I couldn’t say anything else. I was flying a hundred miles an hour toward the edge of a cliff and it was coming—it was coming—and—
“Gabi!” he roared, just as I went over the edge, everything tensing, screaming, muscles burning, sensations flooding my body, all the way to the tips of my fingers.
Over and over the waves came, and we rode them till we collapsed against each other, chests heaving, gasping for air. We slid down farther into the water in a haze of exhaustion, me lying on his chest and him lazily toying with a strand of my hair.
“This is honestly the only finger I can move right now,” he said.
“More than I’ve got,” I said, not even opening my eyes. “You’re basically a floating device at the moment.”
“I’m not too proud.”
I laughed. “That was enough exercise for a week,” I said. “I can eat ice cream every day after that.”
“I have ice cream.”
“See? It’s fate.”
“Just think what you could eat if we made this a regular thing,” he said.
My eyes popped open. We’d done that. Crossed that line into real. Hell, we’d crossed that line a week ago. My first reaction was still to backpedal, but this time was different. This time, walls were down and there was a second reaction.
“Why do I hear gears moving in reverse in that head of yours?” he said.
I shook my head, still lying on him. “There’s no reverse,” I said, lifting my face to rest my chin on my hand and look into his eyes. “Just a pause, now.”
“A pause,” he echoed.
“A thinking pause,” I said, giving him a grin. “Like a stop sign when no one else is around.”
“Okay,” he said, chuckling. “What kind of thinking?”
“The good kind,” I said. “The kind that comes with words I’m not quite ready to hear come out of my mouth yet. But I’m willing to visit that later on.”
Thatcher ran a finger along my cheek, the look in his eyes enough to take my heart right out of my chest. “So am I, Lois.” Somehow, I knew, with that one look, that he was never more serious. He lifted a hand from the bubbly, and held up an imaginary glass. “Here’s to later on.”
I held up one, too, and bumped his. “To later on.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “It’s almost noon.”
“I’m starving.”
We got out and he gave me a large T-shirt to wear, making me feel very sexy and well-fucked while we made lunch in his kitchen together. What can I say? It was a thing. We talked and laughed and kissed over the dishwasher. It was—everything I said I didn’t want and yet didn’t know how badly I actually did. I just needed the right guy.
Post-lunch after post-sex had a vacation vibe to it, suddenly, like we were supposed to go back to bed (or it would have been back if we’d ever actually made it there) and lounge around all afternoon. I set my phone across the room next to his, and we pretended we were somewhere else, far far away. Somewhere that looked just like here, having long, sexy, slow sex for hours, before genuinely passing out in each other’s arms.
* * * *
An odd banging sound poked at my brain, pulling me from sleep. Really good sleep. The kind that comes from—oh, yeahhhhh. I smiled and buried my face in my pillow, reliving some of the finer moments.
I reached out and felt warm man, and smiled even bigger, snuggling up against his back and inhaling him for the four hundredth time. If I could bottle that and take it with me, I’d be more likely to buy batteries for my gadget.
“Thatch?” came a voice that didn’t go with my fantasy. “You here?”
My eyes sprung open, my heart leaping out the window.
“Shit!” I screamed silently, pounding on Thatcher. “Micah’s here!”
He jumped like he’d forgotten there was someone else in his bed, and came up ready to take me down.
“Shit, Gabi!”
“Shhh!” I said, pouncing out of bed, and looking frantically for the T-shirt from earlier. Found that, and spun in a circle looking for something that could pass for pants. “Don’t you leave anything lying around?”
“That’s what dressers are for,” he said, pointing. “Shorts in the third drawer down might work.”
“Thatch? You in the bathroom taking a shit?” Micah called up. “Why’s Gabi’s car here?”
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” I muttered, pulling on a perfectly folded pair of cargo shorts that came with a belt. They came below my knees, but I couldn’t be choosy at this point. I ran to the window.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Climbing out the window,” I said, peering out. I opened it and leaned out. A shallow roof, leading to a connected garage with a lower roof next to a tree. Done.
“What?” he said, laughing. Until I put a leg through. “Wait, Gabi, seriously what are you doing?”
“She can’t find me up here like this,” I said.
His eyebrows raised. “You’re still there? I thought you let all that crap go.”
“Okay, I get it,” I said, that backpedaling thing having deep enough roots in me to give it a hell of a shot. “But she can’t find out like this. I need to tell her!”
“So, tell her!” he said.
“I can’t!” I said. “I’ve been lying to her. I’ve got to figure out the right time to—”
Thatcher’s phone rang next to mine, across the room. It was Micah.
“It’s the right time,” he said.
“See you around front,” I said, disappearing through the window.
“Oh, for the love of God,” I heard him say. “Your car is outside.”
Yes, and I
was working on a plan for that. As I traversed the roofline and jogged to the garage, the tree with its welcoming branches was no problem at all. I felt fifteen again, and rebellious.
Now to figure out this car thing.
Sprinting around to the front of the house, hiking up the shorts that didn’t want to stay, I wracked my brain for a plan. Maybe I just got there, wanted to talk about Wild Things. Maybe I left my wallet in his truck! I came out of the gate and rounded the corner of the house to the porch. Yes, the wallet was a perfect plan. I could—
“Hey, Gabi!” Micah said, standing on the porch steps, leaning on a railing.
“Hey…” I said, letting go of my shorts. They dropped to about mid-thigh.
“Nice look,” she said. “Why don’t you come in the front door like normal people?”
She turned and walked in, and I closed my eyes and counted to ten, hoping wisdom would hit me by then. I was a horrible friend. I never should have lied to her. I never should have betrayed her!
“Micah, I’m so sorry,” I said, walking in the door. “I never—”
Thatcher was mixing up batter for pancakes, and Micah was sipping a mug of coffee and digging through bags of chocolate chips and nuts to add to the batter.
She looked up and held out a hand. “I don’t need details. I get it.”
“You—you do?” I asked, giving Thatcher a look as he just stood there in sweatpants and a T-shirt, stirring. Really?
“Of course,” she said. “You’re all confused and wigged out right now, and it was a nutso day, and things happen.” She shrugged. “I just want you to be honest is all.”
Things happen. She thought this was a spontaneous thing.
“I know you just want to keep things light and all,” she said. “But last week, it was Hot Guy at that meeting, and you were falling hard for him. Seriously hard.”
I pulled out a chair and sat. This was going to be painful.
She leaned against the counter and it was all I could do not to cringe. We’d scrubbed the hell out of it, but I’d never in my life forget what went down there. Ha! Literally.
A Charm Like You Page 23
