7. Violet
SEVEN
Violet
L unch was nice and easy thanks to Margo being there. Carson and I couldn’t talk about last night or that kiss, which I’m thankful for today, but I know we need to address it soon, which is why I agreed to Halloween movie night. I’m hoping for a few minutes alone with him after Margo falls asleep.
I have to tell him that whatever that was can’t happen again. Not that I’m against the idea completely, but there is Margo to figure in, and that kiss was moving a little fast. If he’s interested in me, then we need to move slow and make sure that we’re actually compatible before jumping into something neither of us are ready for and possibly hurting Margo in the process.
After lunch, I leave them behind to get back to work to make the rest of the deliveries. I leave around five, letting Jane close herself so I can go home and get cleaned up. Like most days, my clothes are covered in a flour, sticky icing, and dried sweat from being near those hot ovens all day. When I make it home, I go straight to the shower. I wash and condition my hair, then go about shaving like normal. When I get out, I smother myself in my favorite scented lotion, Warm Vanilla Sugar, then I blow dry my hair. It falls down sleek and smooth like always. The only way I can get my hair to hold a curl is if I leave it in a knot all day or all night. Washing it takes all the curl out. I don’t bother with makeup. My usual thing is just some black mascara and lip gloss. Tonight, I add a touch of highlighter to makes my cheeks sparkle.
I go into my room and find a pair of black leggings. I pull them on with my Hocus Pocus sweatshirt and a pair of black Ugg boots. Might as well dress the part. I grab the dozen Halloween-themed sugar cookies I made before I left the bakery and hit the road.
I knock on their door, and Margo throws it open with Carson chasing after her. “Yay! You made it,” Margo says.
I laugh. “And I brought treats,” I tell her, bending down so she can see inside the box through the clear plastic panel.
“They’re Halloween cookies!” she cheers.
Carson laughs but takes the box from my hands.
“And look at my sweatshirt!”
She gasps. “Dad, can I wear my Halloween shirt?”
“I don’t see why not. Go ahead.”
She rushes out of the room.
Carson leads me into the living room. The coffee table is already littered with popcorn, candy, and drinks. He places the box of cookies down, and it completes the spread.
“Who would’ve thought we’d be having Halloween in the middle of June?” He laughs.
I shrug. “Hey, that’s my kind of thinking right there,” I joke, taking a seat on the far end of the couch.
He sits at the opposite end. “Listen, Violet—” he starts, but Margo is back and she’s jumping onto the couch in between us.
“We’ll talk later,” I tell him and he nods in agreement. He picks up the remote and turns on the movie.
Many hours later, both movies are over, and despite the sugar high Margo had, she’s out, sprawled out on the couch between us. Carson picks up the remote and turns off the movie, the blue light from the screen filling the room.
“I’m going to carry her up to bed. Then we can have a drink and talk if you want.”
I nod. “I’ll just start cleaning some of this up.”
“You don’t have to do?—”
I hold up my hand, cutting him off.
He picks Margo up and holds her in his arms, against his chest, to carry her upstairs. I stand up and bend over the table, cleaning up candy wrappers and empty popcorn bowls. I take the load I have in my arms into the kitchen and put things away. I head back into the living room, and Carson is just coming down the stairs. He passes me by, walks into the kitchen, and opens the fridge. I hear the clattering of glass bottles. I take my seat on the couch, angling my body toward his seat.
He hands over a bottle and sits where he had before, far away from me. “So, what’s up?” I ask, taking a drink.
“I thought that maybe we needed to address last night…”
I nod. “I thought the same thing, but honestly, it seems we’re both doing the right thing here, right?”
He looks over at me with a lift of his brow.
“We’re ignoring it?” I say as I wait for him to comment, but all he does is nod. “I mean, you have a lot going on. You just moved and bought this place, you’re trying to start up a company, and you have Margo. Starting a relationship should be the last of your worries. Not to mention, Margo is young. We don’t want our bad choices to cause her any pain in the future. I think what’s best is just to put it behind us.”
He clears his throat. “I couldn’t have said it any better myself,” he agrees.
I nod once. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page. Now, do you want to watch a real scary movie?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood by being playful and smiling.
He laughs. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”
“I’ve always loved the Nightmare on Elm Street series.”
“Really?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.
“Yeah. I mean, you can run from killers like Jason and Michael, but you can’t run from Freddy. Everyone has to sleep some time.”
I shrug. “I guess I never really thought of it like that.”
He pulls up a streaming movie channel and searches for it, finding the first one.
“Yes! This one is my favorite. Young Johnny Depp, yes sir,” I joke and he laughs.
I kick off my boots and pull my feet up onto the couch, getting comfy. The two of us sit, watching the movie and drinking beer after beer. Halfway through the movie, I find myself leaning more toward the middle, and I don’t think anything of it—not until I notice him do the same thing a little while later. But we’ve been sitting upright on this couch for hours now. I’m sure he’s just getting to be as uncomfortable as I am.
By the end of the movie, I find myself lying back, resting my head against the arm rest with my butt and feet in the middle. He’s leaned over on his side now, head resting on his fist and his elbow against the couch. His arm is almost touching my leg, and I can somehow feel the heat coming off of it.
The credits roll, and the living room gets darker. Neither of us move to shut off the TV. I’m feeling good and relaxed, finally comfortable and in no rush to move. I’m tired from getting up so early and staying up late for the second night in a row. I have a feeling it’s going to take a Mack Truck to get me off this couch.
He turns his head and looks up at me, his eyes finding mine in the darkness. The air between us seems to grow thick again, something I’m finding happening more and more when we’re left alone. I don’t know how to pull away. I only know that I should. But why? I suddenly can’t remember.
I don’t know how the space between us gets smaller and smaller. I don’t move. But the next thing I know, his lips are against mine. His body is half covering mine, pressing me into the couch cushions. His tongue swirls with mine, and the longer we kiss, the further it goes. His hands start out on my hips, but they slowly move over my body, my jaw, my neck, my shoulder, my side, inching closer and closer to my breast, but never touching it.
It’s almost like he wants to, but something is holding him back. It’s like he’s dancing along a line. Once that line is crossed, we can never go back. He wants to, and I want to, but do we really want to? Knowing that we can’t ever go back? Is it worth it? Will we come out on the other side better, stronger? Or will we both end up lost, not knowing how to move on?
He lets out a deep growl, like he’s suddenly giving in and tired of fighting. His hand lands on my breast, lightly squeezing it as he uses his hips to push my legs apart. He slides down between them, his hips pressing against a part of my body I haven’t thought about in a long time. I can feel how hard he is as he strains against his jeans, pressing against me. I can feel the sudden change between us. Once guarded and unsure, now we’re throwing caution to the wind.
I know I should stop this, but he feels too good pressed against me. My hands come between us, and they begin pushing his shirt up his stomach. He lifts himself up just enough to pull the shirt up higher. Reaching behind him, he yanks it off from the back. I hear the threads popping and snapping, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
Our lips are only parted for a moment, but it gives me all the time I need to see what he’s been hiding. His biceps are big, as are his pecs. It’s easy to see how much he takes care of himself. His abs are hard and rippling, and he has just the smallest amount of hair on his belly button that trails down below his pants.
His lips are back on mine in an instant, and his hands seem more persistent this time. They’re pushing my shirt up my stomach, and I raise my arms so he can pull it off. The moment he does, his lips don’t come back to mine. Instead, they fall to kiss the swell of my breasts. He pulls the cups of my bra away, sucking my nipple into his mouth. It immediately hardens and tingles with pleasure.
We’re both panting and breathless when he pulls away. His dark eyes find mine. “Can I take you upstairs?” he asks in a hushed whisper.
I don’t speak, unable to trust my voice, so I nod.
He picks me up against him, and our mouths find one another again as he carries me up the stairs and into his room. The room is dark but smells of him. The scent is rich and thick and woodsy. He places me on the bed, and his scent is only stronger here. The blankets are thick, and the pillows are fluffy. It’s like a bed that you only find in a nice hotel. Soft, comfy, and perfect.
Now that’s we’re hidden away in his dark room, he leans back on his knees and unfastens his pants. I make quick work of removing the rest of my clothing. We both somehow finish at the same time, and before I know it, we’re crashing together, lips, hands, and legs, all tangled around each other. His hips are between my legs, and his erection is hard as it presses against my core. His hands are moving all over, touching all of me at once, my hips, my waist, my breasts, his strokes alternating between firm grasps to light caress.es
I lift my hips, enjoying the feeling of his soft tip running between my wet folds. Both his hands come down on my hips, holding them still. The moment he trusts me not to move them again, one hand falls away. He takes himself in hand and guides himself into me, filling me. It must be just as overwhelming for him as it is me because he keeps pausing. Every time I think he’s all the way in, he pushes in more. I feel almost painfully full, but I’m sure it’s just from lack of anyone being inside of me in so long.
Finally, I feel his hips touch against me, and I know that it really is the last stretch. He still doesn’t move though. He holds completely still, adjusting to my tightness and heat.
“Fuck, Violet,” he whispers against my lips. “You’re so fucking tight, I want to come right now.” He rocks his hips, and his tip finds that perfect spot that has me letting out a soft moan.
“Please, don’t stop,” I beg, needing more.
His lips find mine, and he pulls his hips back, slamming them into me. I dig my nails into his back as I moan into his mouth, already ready to fall apart. He wraps one arm around my back, like he’s hugging me to him, but it lifts my hips up at an angle that is perfect and delicious. He uses that arm to pull me back into his thrusts, making them feel harder and more powerful.
While his hips keep moving, he leans down and sucks my nipple into his mouth again, flicking his tongue against it. I feel my release begin to rise and my breathing picks up.
“Are you going to come?” he whispers, moving his mouth up to my ear.
My hold on him tightens, but I’m still unable to find my voice as I let my release build higher.
His hips move faster, his thrusts getting harder. His hands squeeze my body, and his mouth ravages my neck and jaw. “Come for me, Violet. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.” His teeth nip my ear, and my moans grow louder.
“Carson,” I breathe out his name. “Fuck, don’t stop,” I beg. Pressure continues to build until it’s too much, and the next thing I know, I’m spiraling, falling, breaking into a million tiny pieces. My orgasm washes over me, hot and heavy, swirling around inside of me like a hurricane, slowly taking over every nerve ending. My toes go numb, my lungs stop working, my heart races, and it feels like every hair is standing on end. I ride out every last wave he provides me until I can finally suck in a gasp of air.
His thrust seem to grow more impatient, and they get faster but less precise. Suddenly, they jerk to a stop, and he lets out a sound from deep in his throat that has my stomach muscles tightening from the sexy noise. His hips slow and come to a stop. Finally, he’s still on top of me.
We’re both breathing heavy, trying to get control of our bodies. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest, which is pressed to mine. But as quickly as all this happened, his body tightens again, but this time, it’s not in the same way.
He’s back to being guarded, only giving me one small peek at himself. Now, he’s confused, unsure of what we just did. I can feel his unease creeping up like a spider I’ve been watching travel the room.
The question now is, how’s this all going to play out? Will he ask me to leave? Will he beg me to stay? Maybe I should just make this easier for him and remove myself. I’m sure he’s fighting with himself right now, and to be honest, so am I.