Nailed

by Tara Wyatt

  Her teeth scraped over his earlobe, and his hands tightened in her hair as blood surged to his dick. She sat up, her breasts bouncing, her skin glowing in the late afternoon sunlight bathing her bedroom. He trailed his fingers down her shoulders, tracing the freckles there, wanting to memorize them.

  “Ha, no, it’s not that, but thank you.” She paused, and something sad crept into her eyes. “I…I have a wedding to go to this weekend, my cousin’s, and I don’t want to go by myself.” The words tumbled out of her in a rush, like she was ripping off a verbal Band-Aid.

  “And you want me to go with you?”

  She nodded, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

  He made a face, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t know. Sounds kind of…datey.”

  He’d meant to tease her, but all the warmth drained out of him when her chest hitched and she blinked rapidly as though fighting back tears. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s stupid. Forget I asked.”

  “Hey, hey,” he said and pulled her down to his chest, smoothing his hands up and down her back. “I was kidding. Of course I’ll go with you.”

  “Thanks,” she mumbled into his chest. For several moments, he just held her, stroking a hand up and down her back, waiting and hoping she’d open up to him.

  Finally, his patience was rewarded.

  “About a year ago, I was engaged,” she said, her voice a little hoarse.

  “Shit, baby. I’m sorry. What happened?”

  She took a shuddering breath and nuzzled into him. “He broke up with me the day before the wedding. He told me he’d fallen in love with someone else. Someone more together, more stable. Less bossy and crass, who actually knew how to cook and all kinds of shit. It was awful. He’d been cheating on me for months, and then I had to tell my entire family that the wedding was off. It was humiliating.” She sniffled. “I hate weddings.”

  As her words sunk in, everything started to make a lot more sense. Why she’d been so hurt when he’d stood her up for their date. Why she insisted they were only casual. Why she was so guarded. She’d been hurt and rejected in the past and was only protecting herself.

  “I also feel like I should warn you that my parents will be there.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  She pushed up onto one elbow. “Okay? That doesn’t freak you out?”

  “Not at all.”

  She eyed him skeptically, and God, all he wanted to do was make her smile. “Really?”

  “I’d love to meet the people responsible for this,” he said, stroking a hand down her spine. She fought it for a second, but a smile spread across her face, and something in his chest cracked open.

  She kissed him, filling up that crack with everything warm and good.

  “Your parents seem nice. And normal,” Adam said, looking mouthwateringly hot in his navy blue suit, his hair styled with a bit of gel. He sipped his champagne, the glass small and delicate in his big hand. Charlie took a swig of her own champagne, both impressed that her parents had behaved and surprised at how well the introduction had gone. Easy. Simple. She’d known she wouldn’t be able to get away with bringing someone and not introducing him, but Adam had been great with her parents. And her parents hadn’t said anything weird or embarrassing, thankfully.

  “They are. And don’t sound so surprised.” She smacked him on the arm, loving the feel of hard muscle beneath the fabric of his suit.

  About two hundred guests mingled in the outdoor ballroom set up on the lawn of the Hyatt Regency Boston Harbor, waiting for the bride and groom to return from pictures. The sun was just starting to dip low, still at least an hour away from setting. Pink and orange light reflected off the few clouds scattered in the sky, sparkling against the water. A handful of sailboats floated by, the sound of flapping sails mixing with the laughter and clinking glasses of the reception around them.

  Charlie’s phone buzzed from her clutch, and she fished it out. She had two text messages, one from her boss at the Globe, and the other from her mother.

  From her boss: We want you to follow the Sox on their road trip, starting Monday. In depth report on post-season chances.

  From her mother: Your carpenter is very cute. Just saying.

  And then another from her mother: I’d let him sand my deck anytime.

  And then another: I think I’ve had too much champagne. But seriously. Really cute. Way cuter than Jeff.

  And there it was. At least her mother had kept it in check in front of Adam.

  Adam peered over her shoulder, and she quickly shut the screen off. “Everything okay?” he asked, a cocky smirk on his face, and she knew he’d seen the message.

  “Yeah. Actually, better than okay. I get to go on the road with the Sox starting on Monday. My boss wants me to write an in-depth profile on their push for the pennant.”

  His face lit up and he pulled her in for a hug. “Baby, that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.” He spoke the words into her hair, and she could almost feel herself splitting in half, so intense was the internal tug-of-war going on. Despite all the walls she’d put up, she’d caught feelings for him. Big time. And damn if she knew what to do about it. Part of her wanted to run, throwing her shields back up as fast as she could. Part of her wanted to let go and take a chance, to let him in.

  Both options were at least a little scary. After the way Jeff had shattered and humiliated her, she wasn’t sure she was ready—or would ever be ready—to let someone in like that. Because if she did, and she got hurt again, she wasn’t sure how she’d survive it.

  The bride and groom made their entrance, going straight into their first dance. Adele’s “Make You Feel My Love” played through the speakers and floated on the warm early evening air. Something in her chest tightened as she watched her cousin dance with her husband, gazing at each other with eyes so full of love and happiness it almost hurt to watch. Like staring at the sun, too bright and intense and overwhelming.

  She’d thought she’d had that with Jeff, but she’d been so, so wrong, and she still wondered how she hadn’t seen the signs before it had all blown up in her face. Maybe she’d been so desperate not to be alone, to belong to someone, that she’d been willing to overlook the warning signs. But it didn’t matter now; the damage was done. All she could do was try not to get hurt again. And that meant keeping her heart to herself.

  Adam slipped a hand around her waist and kissed her hair. “You look so damn beautiful, Charlie,” he whispered in her ear. “I can’t stop looking at you.”

  She smoothed her hands down the front of her black cocktail dress, his words coiling up her insides into confusing knots. Those words, given so freely, spoken so honestly, God, they felt good.

  Too good. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me,” she whispered back.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re making me like you too much.”

  Instead of putting some distance between them, her words only made him smile, his fingers curling into her waist. “Good. My evil plan is working.”

  She fought the urge to stomp her foot. “No. No evil plans. I’m not your girlfriend, Adam.”

  The smile stayed in place. “I know.”

  “This is just casual. Just sex,” she said, not sure if she was reminding him or herself.

  “Yep. Totally casual. Speaking of sex, you wanna crash at my place tonight? I don’t live far from here.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and she found herself smiling despite the fear sucking all the air out of her lungs. “I’ll curl your toes and make you an omelet in the morning. Can’t beat that.”

  God, why did he have to be so fucking charming? So damn cute? The upcoming road trip was a good thing. It would let her get some distance, and with it, hopefully some clarity.

  “Okay, fine.” She nodded at him, both loving and hating the way her breath caught when she looked at him. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring him to the wedding. She hadn’t wanted to miss it, but she hadn’t wanted to go by herself, either, and deal with everyone�
�s semi-disguised “poor Charlie, she was practically jilted” stares. But being here with him…it felt real. Like he was more than the hot carpenter she was banging.

  Because he is, whispered a small voice from somewhere deep inside her, and she took a long sip of her champagne, trying to drown that voice. Her stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought, at the truth of it.

  “It was the omelet that sealed the deal, wasn’t it?”

  She laughed despite her weird mood. “Yeah, Hennessy. Definitely the omelet.”

  She was pushing him away. Adam could feel it. All night, there’d been something off with them, their usual easy banter strained, a slight hesitation in the way she touched him. At first, he’d chalked it up to how much she hated weddings, but as the evening wore on, he had a feeling it was more than that.

  All through dinner and the seemingly endless toasts, he’d tried teasing her, tried kissing her, tried making her laugh, and while she’d played along, there’d been something about the light in her eyes that had him on edge.

  And the more she pushed him away—with her reminder they were only casual, with the small ways she kept herself closed off—the more desperate he became, a hot pressure clawing at the inside of his chest. He wanted to drag her into the center of the room and kiss her senseless in front of everyone. Wanted her to admit she liked him, because he sure as fuck liked her.

  He got that she was scared. Shit, he was scared too. They’d both been hurt, had been through some hard stuff, but he also knew he didn’t want to live the rest of his life not taking a chance on something great because he was scared. He’d come to that realization, being with her. He just didn’t know how to get her there, too.

  He leaned over and draped an arm across the back of her chair. “Dance with me.” A statement, not a question, because he knew if he asked, she might turn him down. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face for a second before she bit her lip and nodded, offering him her hand. He led her onto the dance floor, weaving between swaying couples before turning and pulling her into his arms. Spandau Ballet’s “True” floated through the evening air, and he tucked her against him, wanting her as close as possible. She laid her head against his chest and as he stroked a hand up and down her back, he could’ve sworn he felt her tremble.

  Slipping his hand under her chin, he tilted her face up. “Are you okay?” He couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking about the asshole who’d broken her heart. Was she thinking about the wedding that never happened? Would she tell him if she was?

  She blinked rapidly, her eyes shining in the dim lighting from the paper lanterns strung across the tent’s ceiling. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  A lie. He could feel it in the tension of her spine, could see it in the set of her mouth. So he did the only thing he could think of. He pulled her tight against him and closed his mouth over hers, kissing her slow and deep, needing to show her how he felt. He couldn’t tell her. She’d run. That much, he knew.

  He broke the kiss and brushed his lips against the outside of her ear, reverting to sex, knowing she’d respond. “You turn me on so fuckin’ much, you know that? I can’t wait to get you home later.”

  She looked up at him, her lids hooded and her eyes glazed, no longer sad or panicked. She pressed her hips against him, and his dick twitched in his pants, the flow of blood taking his erection from halfway to completely hard. “What will you do to me when we’re alone?” she asked, her fingers threading into his hair.

  “Anything you want. I’m yours.”

  Her breath caught at his words and she spun away, grabbing his hand and leading him through the crowd and inside the hotel. After glancing down the hallway, she pulled him into the family bathroom and flipped the lock behind them, backing him up against the door, something desperate shining in her eyes.

  “I want you, right now.” She skated a hand over the bulge in his pants, and his eyes shut for a second, heat snapping down his spine.

  “I don’t have a condom,” he said, trying to keep up with her and the sudden turn of events.

  “I don’t care. I need this, Adam.” Her words seared through him, and he cupped her face, kissing her hard and urgent, their tongues tangling together, something desperate spreading between them. She pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders, and he flung it to the floor.

  “You are so gorgeous,” he said, his lips scraping against hers as he spoke.

  She shook her head. “Don’t.” The single syllable came out on a choked whisper, and her fingers went to his belt buckle, opening it and undoing his fly. She slipped a hand into his pants and stroked his cock, his balls tightening.

  “This is fuckin’ crazy,” he said, kissing her again, giving in to the desperate need surging through him. The need to be inside her, connect with her. He cupped her ass and lifted her up, backing her against the wall. Her legs came around his waist, her skirt riding up.

  “I need you, Adam, and I can’t…I want you inside me. Now.”

  He groaned and pushed her panties to the side, sliding the head of his cock against her, slicking her wetness over himself. He pressed his forehead against hers as he slid inside her. Fuck, she was so wet and hot around his bare cock that he had to remind himself to breathe. He rolled his hips, inching in even deeper, and she cried out, her head rolling to the side.

  “Charlie, look at me,” he ground out as he pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

  She dragged her eyes to his and he stroked in and out of her again, fucking her as deep as possible, burying himself inside her and still not feeling like it was close enough. He held her eyes as he moved his hips, rocking in and out of her. She clenched around him, still maintaining eye contact, her eyes bright and intense as he moved inside her, stretching and filling her.

  “Oh, God, Adam,” she sighed out, her voice high and breathy.

  Still cupping her ass, he adjusted the angle so he rubbed against her clit with each firm, hard thrust into her. The slap of skin on skin echoed off the bathroom tile, punctuated with soft moans and heavy breaths.

  “Fuck, I’m gonna come. Can I come inside you?” He panted out the question, his heart throbbing in time with the orgasm building at the base of his spine.

  “Yes.” She moaned as she started to come, and he pumped into her harder and faster, riding her release to find his own.

  He came hard, his fingers digging into her ass as he groaned out her name, nuzzling his face in her neck. For several minutes, neither of them spoke, the air thick with the scent of sex.

  Lifting his head, he kissed her, gentle and soft, still buried deep inside her, not wanting to leave her body. The fantastic sex had switched off his brain, and the words fell out of his mouth. “God, Charlie, I like you so fuckin’ much. You’re amazing.”

  She stiffened against him and ducked her head away, and he knew he’d messed up with his honesty. “Put me down.” Her voice was quiet, echoing off the bathroom tiles.

  Reluctantly, he slid out of her and set her gently on her feet. She adjusted her underwear and her dress, tugging it down over her hips. She hiccupped, and that was when he realized she was crying.

  “Charlie, I—”

  She cut him off with her gaze, tears streaking down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Adam. I can’t do this. I have to go.” She spun and unlocked the door, moving to yank it open.

  Hastily, he tucked himself back in his pants and wrapped his fingers around her arm, tugging her back toward him. “No fuckin’ way. You don’t get to say that after what just happened and then just fuckin’ leave. We’re not done. We can’t be done, just because I said I like you. God, Charlie.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so upset. It’s just sex.” She pulled her arm out of his grip and crossed her arms over her chest, closing herself off from him, despite the fact that not even sixty seconds ago, he’d been bare inside her.

  He shook his head, and the truth burst free. “Not for me it isn’t. Not anymore.”


  “No! You don’t get to do that. You knew what this was.” She blinked rapidly, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling.

  “What are you so afraid of?” He took a step closer and could feel the heat radiating off her small body as she stared at him with those sad brown eyes. He concentrated on breathing, holding himself together even as his own fear ripped him apart piece by piece. “Charlie, say something. Please.”

  “I can’t do this.”

  His hands curled into fists at his sides, and he was completely at a loss as to what to say or do. He waited a second too long to speak, and she spun and pulled the door open, disappearing back into the wedding. He stood, rooted to the spot, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

  By the time he emerged from the bathroom, she was gone. And that crack in Adam’s chest, the one Charlie had wormed her way into, it split right open. Ripped him in fucking two. He slammed his fist into the wall and left, heading out into the cool evening air as pain churned through him.

  Chapter 7

  Charlie hadn’t slept well in almost a week, and not just because she was on the road covering one of the biggest stories of her career. The Sox were a game ahead of the Jays and if they kept up their winning streak, they’d clinch the pennant. And her lack of sleep wasn’t because she’d heard from her agent that several publishers were interested in her book proposal. Or because of the shitty hotel mattresses she’d endured in first Oakland, and then Seattle.

  No, her sleeplessness was all because of Adam and what she’d done to him. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the hurt etched onto his handsome face as she’d pushed him away.

  Goddammit, she missed him. He’d made her like him, maybe even more than like him, and she’d walked away, running scared and trying to save herself future heartbreak. Instead, she’d only induced heartbreak in the present, dumbass that she was. She’d seen his blue eyes darken with pain, his jaw tight, when she’d told him they were done. She’d seen the way he’d curled his hands away from her, pain practically radiating off him.