Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
TESSA
Water is flowing out of the pipe where the faucet once was, shooting up like a geyser then tumbling down onto the bathroom floor. “Shit.” I take the broken faucet from Zoe and try to cover up the broken pipe with it, but then the water turns into a spray that hits my face and my chest, and I’m spluttering as I step away.
“Where’s your water shut off?” Linc shouts, following me inside the bathroom.
“In the kitchen.”
He takes the faucet from me. “Go turn it off. I’ll try to catch the water.” He wrenches open the hallway closet, grabbing the mop bucket, and tries to catch the water as it flows out of the pipes. Only a little lands in the bucket, most of it lands on him.
He looks like he’s dancing in the rain, and I’m trying not to laugh.
“Turn the water off, Carmichael,” he shouts, narrowing his eyes at my smile. I nod and run to the kitchen .
“I’m just going to get dressed,” Zoe shouts. “I need to leave in a minute.”
Of course she does. It’s the teenage playbook – make the mess and run. I’m pretty sure I did the same when I was a kid.
Dropping to my knees I swipe away the cleaning bottles beneath the sink, reaching in to turn the valve. Water is dripping from my face and when I look down my t-shirt is glued to my skin. I grab a clean cloth and wipe myself, but it does nothing.
“It’s off,” I shout to Linc.
When I get back to the bathroom he’s leaning over the tub, the bucket still in his hands. His wet t-shirt is clinging to his chest, revealing the lines of his muscles. I try – and fail – not to stare.
Taking a deep breath I walk over to him. “How is it looking?” I ask him.
“Like we need to call a plumber.”
It’s funny, but just one little word change and I immediately feel safe. Not ‘you need to call a plumber’ but ‘we’.
“The new bathroom install starts on Monday,” I say. “There’s no point in calling anybody out before then.” I’m not paying for an emergency plumber to replace a faucet only for it to be replaced again next week.
“You can’t be without water until Monday,” Linc says, frowning. “Let me call somebody. Just to hold you over.”
“No, it’s fine, honestly. We’ve managed worse than this.” And thank god Zoe is a trooper. Even if she’s also the instigator of this particular mess.
“I need to go,” she says, walking out of her room. She’s fully dressed. And dry. She takes a look at us both. “Unless you need me to stay and help?”
Linc and I share a glance.
“No, you go,” I tell her. “Have a good time. ”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Her eyes meet mine and I can see that she really is.
“Not your fault, kiddo. The whole bathroom should have been condemned years ago. I’m surprised it didn’t happen before now.”
She nods, still looking sheepish. “I’d hug you but…”
I look down at my soaked body. “Yeah, best to avoid that. What time will you be home?”
“About eight? Maisie’s mom is taking us for dinner after the movie.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then. Keep an eye on your phone for updates.”
She grins at me and then leaves, slamming the front door closed behind her. I take a deep breath and start to shiver.
Damn, it’s cold in here.
“You better go change,” Linc says. “Before I get distracted by your nipples.”
I look down, and sure enough, they’re pushing against my wet t-shirt. And then I look back up at him.
“What about you? You should go home. Get changed. Before you catch a chill.”
“And leave you to have all the fun sanding? No way.” He winks. “Don’t you have some clothes I can borrow?”
“I’m half your size,” I say. But he follows me to the bedroom anyway. I open the door and step inside, frowning because now he’s going to know I sleep on a mattress on the floor.
He’s standing in the doorway when I look over at him, staring at my bed. It’s impossible not to feel embarrassed.
“It’s a work in progress,” I tell him. “Not exactly five star.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” his voice is so soft it sends a shiver down my spine.
Grabbing two towels from a drawer, I throw one over at him. He catches it easily, using it to wipe his face and hair.
“What were you thinking then? I ask, pressing the towel against my face. When I pull it away he’s peeling off his wet t-shirt. I swallow hard as the hem rises, revealing the hard ridges of his stomach, the defined planes of his pectorals.
My nipples press harder against my t-shirt. Linc pulls the wet fabric over his head and then looks at me, his hair askew.
Our eyes lock.
Without saying a word, he walks over to me, taking the towel from my hands and rubbing it in my hair. He uses just the right amount of pressure, enough to soak up the water dripping from it.
“Take your top off,” he tells me.
Alarmed, I catch his eye.
“Just so I can dry you off.”
I nod and do as I’m told, peeling the wet t-shirt from my body and throwing it on the floor. Linc’s gaze takes me in, his eyes dipping to my wet bra and my pebbled nipples.
He wraps the towel around me, drying my torso. Then his hands wrap around my back and unfasten my bra.
It doesn’t feel wrong. It doesn’t even feel particularly sexual. It just feels like I’m being taken care of.
I can’t remember the last time that happened.
Linc drops to his knees. “Jeans next.” He’s close enough for me to feel the heat of his breath on my stomach. I nod and unfasten the buttons with shaky fingers, even though they’re barely wet. And then he takes over, peeling the denim from my legs.
“Step out,” he murmurs and I do.
“The socks can go too, Carmichael.”
I hold my feet up for him to take each one off.
“And the panties?” I whisper. Because that’s all I have left on.
“That depends.” There’s a hint of a smile on his face. He looks like a little kid in a toyshop as he takes me in.
This man makes me feel wanted. Special.
“Depends on what?” I ask him .
“Depends on if I’m the kind of guy you’d take your panties off for.”
I reach down to cup his face, feeling the roughness of his jaw against my palms. My heart is thudding against my chest. This man is just so damn attractive.
“What if you take them off,” I ask him, ignoring the way my heart is racing.
I can feel his smile against my hands. Taking them from his face he stands up, though he doesn’t let my hands go. Instead he pulls me closer to him so there are only inches between us. He’s wearing a pair of wet jeans and I’m wearing… well almost nothing.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” he tells me. There’s a truth to his voice that hits me right in the heart. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”
“It’s only been a few weeks since we left Exuma,” I tell him.
“Exactly. A fucking millennium.”
Our eyes lock. And part of me knows I need to be careful. It would be so easy to fall for this man. He makes me laugh, which is something I haven’t done in a very long time. He helps me with my messy, falling apart house. The man even knows how to talk to my lovely, but sometimes stroppy teenage daughter.
“You okay?” he asks.
Oh, and he does that too. Checks in with me. Makes sure I’m ready.
I like that more than anything.
“I am,” I breathe.
He puts his hand beneath my chin, tipping my head up until my lips are almost touching his.
“Just so I know,” he murmurs. “How boring do you want this to be?”
I start to shake with laughter as he kisses me, his lips soft against mine. He runs his palm down my back, into the dip of it as his tongue slides inside my mouth. Tasting, giving, causing shivers to snake down my spine.
Before I can kiss him again he drops to his knees. “This is getting to be a habit,” he mutters.
“I like you down there.”
There’s a wicked glint in his eye. “I know that, Carmichael. Now let’s get these off.” He tugs at my panties, sliding them down my hips and legs, then helping me step out of them.
“Christ you’re wet.” He grins and throws them to the floor, then lifts me gently onto the mattress. “Do you really sleep on the floor every night?” he asks, frowning.
“Mmm.”
“Have you touched yourself in here since you’ve been back from Exuma?” He tips his head to the side, waiting for my answer.
“Maybe…” I feel suddenly coy. Which is stupid because this man has already been inside of me. He’s made me come more times than I can remember.
“Were you thinking about me?”
My lips part. “Sometimes.”
“I thought about you every time,” he tells me. “Every single damn time I touched myself. Which was a fucking lot.”
He pops the button of his jeans, sliding the zipper down, before forcing the wet denim to the floor. I can see the thick ridge of him pushing against his shorts. I’d forgotten how hard he could get.
No I hadn’t. But I tried.
“Show me,” I whisper.
“How I touched myself?” he asks, his eyes catching mine.
I nod. He pulls his shorts down and I swallow hard. His cock looks impressively thick. He palms it, moving his hand up and down. Pre-cum glistens from the tip.
“Want to know what I thought about?” he asks, his voice gritty as he moves his hand up and down .
“Tell me.”
“You. Sucking me. Looking up at me with those pretty brown eyes with your lips curled around my cock. Feeling the flutter of your tongue. Seeing your eyes water as you gag on me.” He’s found his rhythm. His breath pants to the beat of his hand. “Fucking your face with my fingers curled into your hair.” He grunts. I can’t take my eyes off him. Yes, I’ve touched myself thinking about him, but it’s been nothing compared to this.
My imagination doesn’t come close to the reality. I sit up and crawl across the mattress to him.
“I’d fuck your mouth hard,” he tells me. “I wouldn’t be gentle.”
“I wouldn’t want you to be.”
The corner of his lip curls. His fist is tighter now. His cock harder. He’s fucking his palm like I want him to fuck my mouth.
“And when I come in your mouth, you’d swallow it all down,” he tells me. “Like the good girl you are.”
“Yes I would.” I reach for him. “Let me taste you.”
He keeps hold of his cock, running the tip along the seam of my mouth. I lick without hesitation, tasting the salty potency of him. He slides against me again, and I open my mouth, taking in the plushness of his head. Fluttering my tongue against him like he described.
“Christ, Carmichael,” he moans. “Your mouth is heaven.” He pushes in further. “Look up at me.” So I do. Just like his fantasy. I give him the most innocent look I can manage with his dick in my mouth.
“Such a good girl. I’m going to fuck your mouth now.”
And I want him to. I don’t want him to be gentle or kind or caring. I know he can be that. He’s showed it today and for the last week. But right now I need him dirty. So I nod and he thrusts his hips, making my eyes water as the tip of him skims the back of my throat .
“Breathe,” he murmurs, pulling back. And I do. His eyes catch mine and I know what he’s asking. Is this okay? Can he do it again?
I nod and he thrusts.
“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not going to last.” His fingers tangle in my hair, the pads pressing against my scalp. I reach around him, my own palms against his ass, encouraging his movement, loving the sound of his groans. The taste of him coats my tongue.
“Two seconds, Carmichael,” he tells me. “Your choice.”
They’re like magic words. Because all of this is my choice. Having him here. Having him in my mouth. Letting him explode inside me.
Everything is up to me. And I want it all.
I flutter my tongue against him again and he lets out a low grunt, before he pumps into my mouth, his seed spilling on my tongue. His body is still, the only part of him moving the part between my lips. And when he stops coming he drops to his knees, cupping my face as I swallow him down.
“Fuck. Me,” he mutters.
“A bit late now,” I say, and he rolls his eyes.
“That was the most…” he screws his face up. “Boring blow job I’ve ever had.”
I start to laugh and he kisses me, even though my mouth must still taste of him. Then he lifts me onto the bed and wraps me in his arms.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, stroking my hair. My face is resting on his chest. “Want to fly back to Exuma with me and escape from all this?”
“Do they have working bathrooms?” I ask.
“Yep. And marble floors.” His hand slides between my legs. “Christ, you really are wet.”
“That’s my tears from choking on you.”
He lifts his head to kiss me again, his finger slowly touching me. He finds the part of me that needs him most, circling against it.
“Is this how you touch yourself?” he asks me, brushing his lips against my neck.
“No, I usually use a twelve inch dildo.”
He laughs against my throat. “Move my hand. Show me what you like.”
It’s funny how intimate his request is. It feels more revealing than having him inside of me. And yet I take his hand, covering his finger with mine, pressing him against me. The roughness of his pad makes my breath catch.
He slides down, capturing my nipple between his lips. His tongue flutters over me, the way I fluttered over him.
“I’ve missed these, too,” he mutters, moving his mouth to my other breast.
“They missed you.”
“Push my finger inside you,” he tells me.
So I do. He adds a second, flicking his thumb against my clit. My breath catches as he moves in the slowest of rhythms, his mouth dragging against my nipple.
Then he kisses his way down my abdomen, before pulling his hand away from mine and burying himself between my thighs, dipping his head to run his tongue languidly along my seam.
“Jesus, you taste good.”
“Seriously?” I ask. “Or is that just what men…oh… say?”
His tongue flutters against my clit as he looks up at me. Oh, now I know why he likes me looking at him when he’s in my mouth so much. The connection between us hits me in the chest.
“Seriously,” he tells me.
Before I can respond he’s sliding his fingers back inside of me, then he sucks at my clit with the perfect amount of pressure. My eyes roll as he curls his fingers, like he’s beckoning me to come .
And I can feel it. The coiling. The pleasure he’s creating.
His tongue is getting faster now. He pushes in a third finger and my eyes widen. It feels so full. Maybe too full. But then he twists them and it’s everything.
“Linc,” I gasp. “I’m going to come.”
“Good. Give it to me.” He twists them again, and I convulse, my back arching up as pleasure explodes inside me. My thighs tighten around his face, as he continues to lick me into oblivion. And his fingers, those teasing, beautiful fingers, he twists them inside as he slowly brings me down from my high.
When he lifts his face up I can see his jaw is glistening. He kisses my lips, a smile curling them as he does.
“That was…” I let out a sigh. “Definitely not boring.”
“Good. Because I intend on not boring you a lot more.”