11. CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lila and Tucker join us for dinner at my house when we return to Cedar Ridge.
“So everything went well?” Lila glances at Mark as she places a platter of grilled chicken on the table.
“Dr. Walters said everything looked good. They’ve submitted the measurements for the titanium rod and the prosthetics to the fabricator. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll have my surgery by the end of August,” he says.
“Do you have to go back to San Antonio?” Tucker asks, helping himself to pasta salad.
“No. I’m having it at UC Health in Aurora. They have a specialty orthopedics program.”
“That’s only a couple hundred miles from here. You can make that in three, three and a half hours, depending on the traffic outside Denver,” Tucker muses.
Mark nods. “At least we don’t have to fly. I don’t really want to deal with crowds right after surgery.”
Lila says, “Take the red-eye,” just as I say, “Trust me, we’d take a red-eye flight.”
Mark raises an eyebrow as Tucker chuckles. “They aren’t fans of crowded, noisy flights.”
My mind drifts from their riveting conversation, instead replaying the one Mark and I had on our drive back earlier this afternoon.
THE conversation.
I’d been restless, fiddling with the music, adjusting the AC vents, shifting in my seat. Finally, Mark had reached over and laid his warm hand on my thigh. “Spit it out.”
“What?” I’d flicked a glance toward him.
“Whatever you’re wrestling with. Just say it.”
I’d hesitated, not sure how to broach the topic.
“It was too much for you this morning, wasn’t it?” His voice was quiet, serious.
A strangled sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh escaped me. “No. Quite the opposite, actually.”
I’d peeked over at him. He’d been watching me intently, so intently that I honestly wasn’t sure he was breathing.
I’d taken a deep breath and steeled myself for a negative response. “When you and I first discussed – um, more – we both agreed neither of us was comfortable with the idea of sex at the time. We said if things progressed, we’d revisit the topic and see how we felt.” I’d paused, my pulse bounding so hard in my throat that it bordered on painful. “Well, I – I’m okay with it now. I don’t know if you are, and I’m not pushing you or anything. I’m just saying, if it – if we – you know – got to that point again, I’m – um – ready. But if you aren’t ready, or you don’t want to, that’s fine.”
Eloquent, I was not.
When he was silent, I’d stolen another glance, startled to find his pale blue eyes swirling with blatant desire.
“There’s nothing I want more,” he’d said, his hand tightening on my thigh.
Tonight.
Tonight, we’ll take that last step. And as Willow advised, I’ve been fantasizing about it all day. Rustling silk. Hot kisses. Languid touches. Tangled bodies.
It seems like an eternity before Lila and Tucker leave. They’re scarcely out the door before I look at Mark. “I’m going upstairs to shower. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Surprise crosses his chiseled features, probably because we’ve been showering together at night, but he merely nods.
I pin up my hair and race through my shower. When I’m dry, I brush my teeth and don a black silk chemise that barely reaches my thighs. I fluff my hair and glance in the mirror one final time before heading downstairs.
When I enter Mark’s room, he’s on the chaise, holding a book as though he’s calmly reading.
Except his book is upside down.
He’s nervous, too.
As soon as he sees me, the book tumbles to the floor. He sucks in a deep breath as he gapes at me. He’s bare-chested, wearing shorts, not the boxer briefs I’ve grown accustomed to.
I pad across the soft carpet, stopping beside his chaise. “Want some company?”
His hand smooths the fabric over my hip, his fingers curling around the slit on the side before gripping the silk, breathing hard. I smile at his sudden inability to speak. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I straddle him on the chaise, kneeling above him, running my hands over the planes of his muscled chest before resting them on his shoulders.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful.” When he finally speaks, his voice is rough. He’s still staring, an expression of wonder on his face. He sits up, his hands moving to cup my face lightly, and I’m startled to feel them trembling. He pulls me toward him, his mouth closing gently over mine, his kiss almost reverent.
It doesn’t stay gentle between us for long.
Kisses turn hot and deep, his mouth insistent, seeking. Long fingers tug the top of my chemise below my breasts, framing them above the black silk, the taut fabric pushing them up. Full lips close over my hard nipples, eliciting a moan from me, the first of many to follow.
I pull back, reaching for his shorts, dragging them down his body, letting my fingertips skim over his body as I do. I watch his shaft spring free before resuming my place, kneeling above him just beyond the reach of his thick cock. His mouth finds my breasts again, and when he clamps down on my peak, I feel an answering throb between my legs. His hands cup my ass, squeezing, and he groans.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he murmurs, his mouth moving to my neck. My head drops back as his stubble rakes over my skin, his lips sending shivers straight to my core. One of his hands glides over my hip and moves between my legs, and I gasp at the contact.
“So fucking wet,” he rumbles. “So hot.” His fingers stroke me, rapidly intensifying my need, to the point that I pull his hand away, instead settling myself against his thick cock, nestling it between my folds.
His hands grip my hips, sliding me back and forth over his length, angling my hips forward so his cock is constantly massaging my clit. The pressure builds rapidly inside me. I’m panting with need, moving faster, and I push his hands away.
“Oh, God, I’m so close,” I gasp, rocking against him.
“Give me a second,” he groans, reaching to still my movements. I lift my hips off his, breathing hard, my body aching so fiercely for release that it hurts. His hands drop to his sides, fisting as his chest heaves. He squeezes his eyes closed.
His cock twitches, flexing against my entrance in unspoken invitation.
And I accept.
I shift my hips and sink onto him, taking his full length inside, moaning at the fullness. Mark’s eyes fly open, his startled gaze finding me. His thickness stretches me deliciously, and every nerve ending in my body is on fire.
My body takes over, and I ride him hard and fast. His shaft strokes my sweet spot, and his pelvis massages my clit with each descent.
“No,” Mark groans. “Wait. I can’t –” His hands grab my hips to slow me, or maybe stop me, but I couldn’t stop if my life depended on it.
“Oh, God,” I wail, and then I’m sobbing as my climax overtakes me, white-hot fire and exploding stars filling my vision. My inner walls contract ferociously, squeezing him, and he bucks into me and shudders, spasming inside me as jets of his hot liquid trigger aftershocks deep inside me.
I collapse against his chest, breathing hard, utterly satisfied.
“Dammit,” Mark groans. “I didn’t want that. It was too soon.”
I hear his words, and suddenly, I can’t breathe as hot guilt suffocates me.
He didn’t want that.
He didn’t want that.
I scramble off him, horrified.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my hand over my mouth, backing away. “I’m sorry.”
The tears are falling before I run out of the room.
Charlie walks into my room in a silky black negligee, looking like every man’s wet dream, and I very nearly come all over myself right then and there.
I’m literally that close to losing control, and I haven’t even touched her. I’ve been wound up ever since we talked about sex in the car. The fact that I nearly blow my wad at the sight of her doesn’t bode well.
My control doesn’t get any stronger.
Hands and lips. Wetness and heat against me. Her sweet nectar coating me. Soft hands push me back as she moves above me, sliding her silken flesh along my cock. Her perfect breasts bounce with every movement. Her eyes close.
It feels so good.
I try to ignore the soft moans coming from her, because I’m barely hanging on as it is. I try to distract myself, but it doesn’t work.
Fuck, I’m too close.
I’m about to come.
No.
I have to make this good for her.
Jesus, I’m not even inside her yet. I’m not sure I’ll last that long.
“Oh, God, I’m so close,” she gasps, her sweet pussy grinding along my shaft.
“Give me a second,” I beg, reaching to still her hips, and mercifully, she stops, lifting herself above me, giving me space, though her desperate need is evident. I breathe deeply, my hands clenched, fighting for control, trying to back down the intensity raging inside me.
Then my cock throbs, twitching against her entrance.
My “entity” takes matters into his own hands, nudging her, and she complies, her hot wet pussy sheathing me, burying me to my hilt.
Oh, fuck.
She feels too good. Her tight pussy grips me like a wet silk glove, squeezing, and I gasp. My hips roll of their own accord, even as my mind screams at me to stop.
I have to make this good for her.
She moves above me, taking me deeper, moving faster.
“Wait. No,” I groan, trying to pull back, to stop my body’s response. It’s too soon. I’m so fucking close.
Too close.
“Wait. I can’t –” I grab her hips to stop her, but she’s panting, already lost in pleasure.
“Dammit,” I grunt, and her orgasm seizes her. She cries out, her head thrown back in ecstasy, and her pussy convulses around me, gripping me tightly as I thrust hard once.
One. Fucking. Thrust.
And I’m done.
“Fuck!”
Her inner walls clench around me, milking every drop of my essence as I explode inside her, all pleasure drowned out by my mortification. “No,” I groan in frustration.
Fuck.
Charlie collapses against my chest as I berate my lack of self-control. I shove my hand in my hair.
“Dammit, I didn’t want that. It was too soon,” I mumble, furious with my performance, or more accurately, the complete lack thereof.
As soon as I see the stricken look in her eyes, I know she’s misunderstood. She backpedals away, looking appalled, apologizing, running from the room like a frightened deer.
I call out to her, but she doesn’t stop. She’s so upset, I’m not even sure she hears me. Her feet pound up the stairs, and I hear crying before her door closes.
Fuck.
I wanted our first time to be perfect.
This? This is a disaster.
I hurry after her on my crutches, but the steps are a fucking nightmare to navigate, and when I nearly lose my balance trying to rush, I’m forced to slow down.
I don’t bother knocking when I finally reach her room. She’s facing away from me, crying. When I approach, she sits up, red-eyed, her expression crushed.
“I’m sorry,” she says, a fresh rush of tears overtaking her. “I’m so sorry. After we talked, I thought –”
I silence her with a kiss, a slow deep kiss that both calms and confuses her as I lay her back on the bed, stretching out beside her, letting my hand trace down her lush curves as I slowly kiss away each tear.
“You misunderstood my meaning,” I murmur against her lips, kissing her again. “I’ve imagined our first time over and over, but in my fantasies, I had some semblance of self-control.” I pause, tasting her, fitting my lips to hers. “I was upset with myself, not you, Charlie. Never you. You’re so fucking hot, I barely lasted that long. It’s embarrassing as hell,” I admit.
She pulls back, her green eyes bright with tears, studying my face. “Really?”
“Really.”
I claim her mouth, tasting, teasing, caressing, until she whimpers and arches her hips. I nuzzle her ear, and she shivers. “How would you feel about a do-over?”
She wraps her legs around my hips in answer, and round two is fucking perfect.
I’m able to take my time with her body now that my desperate desire has been slaked. I linger over her lips, worship her breasts, and drive her wild, waiting until she’s vibrating with need before I bury myself inside her. I fill her over and over with slow, deep thrusts as she arches, urging me on. Her nails rake my back, her heels dig into my ass, and she cries out her pleasure again and again before I finally let go, my body convulsing in spasms of pleasure that leave me weak and panting, utterly bewitched by her.
I can never get enough of this woman.
Mine.
Once the sex hurdle has been breached, things between Mark and me completely transform. This is the ideal relationship – hot sex with my best friend, the man who knows me better than anyone.
And damn, is it hot.
I’m not sure if this is how regular relationships are. I’ve never had anything that compares to this. All I know is that we can’t keep our hands off each other. Morning sex before I go to work. Occasional quickies on my lunch break – a definite perk to working next door. Sex on the chaise, the couch, the bed. Oral sex on my counter, the dining room table, and his bathroom sink. And even when we aren’t having sex, we’re always touching. He mindlessly rubs my back or strokes my hair, or I find myself leaning into him, wrapping my arm around his waist.
We’ve even started sort of – dating, I guess, going out to dinner and the movies, things like that, though in some ways, it’s a little pointless, because we already have dinner and watch a movie or listen to music together every night. Sometimes when we’re out, I see him staring off into space with an odd expression, but he insists he’s fine. We double-date with Tucker and Lila occasionally, and when we do, I don’t see that look in his eyes. It’s only when we’re out alone.
A few nights ago, he and I went to a dimly lit restaurant, and I skipped wearing panties. When his hand slipped beneath my dress to skim my thigh at dinner, I leaned over and whispered my secret to him. We didn’t make it home. I found a pull-off along a mountain road and we leaned his seat back. I pushed his pants down past his hips, and he unbuttoned my dress to the waist and guided me into place.
That’s the night we’d discovered that men could be multi-orgasmic as well.
White. Hot.
It’s become so easy between us, so natural, the kissing, the touching, the sex. I never knew a relationship could be this perfect.
I never knew our relationship could be this perfect.
The only shadow hanging over us is Mark’s lingering disgust with his leg. Maybe as soon as we get him through his surgery, his life will be perfect, too.
Charlie is incredible. Our friends-with-benefits arrangement is going better than I’d dared to hope. Adding sex to a relationship as deep and complex as ours merely completed the circle. She’s unafraid again – like the woman she was five years ago. She’s confident. Self-assured. She’s becoming what she deems “normal”, but Charlie was never abnormal. She never realized it, but she’s incredible.
And she’s a fucking sex goddess.
Jesus, the things that woman does to me.
After work yesterday, Charlie went upstairs and changed into a strappy little tank top and pulled her hair up in a messy bun. That wouldn’t be a big deal for any other woman on the planet, but for Charlie, it was huge. She’s kept her back hidden for the last four years. Yesterday, on a workout day, she left the upper part bared for everyone to see. Tom kissed her on the cheek and told her he was proud of her. He knew about her scars, but he’d never seen them. He slipped his arm around her shoulders without a second thought, and her face lit up, pleased that he wasn’t put off by them.
Something dark twisted deep inside me then. I recognized it when I heard the silent snarl deep within my chest.
Mine.
I can’t wait to get this surgery, to get my permanent prosthetic so I’m not always hopping around with half a limb. I want to be good enough for Charlie. I want to be the man she deserves. I want to be more than her friend, more than her lover. I want to be her forever, and I want her to be mine. I want every day, every night, from now until the end of time.
But not until I’m fixed. Not until I’m whole.
My surgery is in a couple of weeks. I’m this close to everything being perfect, and as soon as I get this osseointegration surgery, it will be.
I step out of the shower to find Lila crying. She’s gotten her period. Another unsuccessful round of attempts. I kiss her lightly on the head, wrap a towel around my hips, and step into the bedroom to grab my clothes for work. When I’ve dressed, I meet her in the bathroom doorway and lower my lips to hers. “As long as we have each other, Lila, that’s what’s most important.”
She pulls back, her violet eyes suddenly flashing. “You’re an unfeeling asshole, you know that?” She shoves me away and slams the bathroom door, locking it.
Yeah. These hormone shots are really… yeah.
I make the bed and sit down on it, grabbing my phone and texting my morning clients to tell them I need to reschedule, that something’s come up. Then I sit down on the bed to wait for the storm to pass.
When Lila emerges from the bathroom, she’s pale and red-eyed. She looks devastated. “I’m sorry, Tuck. I didn’t mean it.” Tears slip down her cheeks. I stand and pull her into my arms before she’s done apologizing, kissing her soft lips.
“I know this is hard, Sweetness. But our family only works if you and I are solid, and whatever you need, I’m in – timed sex, fostering, adopting, kidnapping.” She smiles, and though it’s faint, it’s real. “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. But we have to keep this –” I motion between us “– you and me, strong. I love you, Lila, more than life itself.”
“I love you, too, Tucker.” She stands on tiptoe, kissing me lightly.
I tighten my hold when she moves to leave, leaning into another kiss, deepening it. I tug her toward the bathroom, taking off her shirt, pulling mine over my head. I pull us together, chest to chest, my intent clear against her hips.
Lila looks up at me demurely from beneath long lashes that frame her stunning eyes. “I don’t think this is on our sex schedule.”
“Fuck the schedule,” I say, capturing her mouth, sucking her lower lip.
“I’m bleeding,” she reminds me as I peel her leggings down her perfect legs.
“That’s why you’ll be screaming my name in the shower. Now shut up and kiss me.”
Another month. Another crushing failure.
But Tucker’s right. No matter what, when it comes down to it, our relationship is about the two of us. Maybe one day we’ll be lucky enough to have a child, but whether we do or don’t, at the end of the day, it’s still the two of us standing together, and we can’t allow our struggle to conceive to drive a wedge between us.
We make love in the shower, and it’s spontaneous and wonderful and somehow freeing, because it’s about setting things right between us, not about trying to get me pregnant.
But as soon as I get to the clinic, I call Dr. K’s office to set up my next ovulation induction.