Chapter Twenty-Two #2
He set the bottle on the counter quietly. There were wet leaves and loose flower petals in the sink, along with the dirty cake plates. Remnants of his attempt to make peace.
“Maybe you shot him, and your father covered that up!”
Wade turned to look at her. “I didn’t shoot him, but I’m not sorry he’s dead.”
“Of course you’re not sorry,” she screeched, her face crumpling. “You don’t care. He was an embarrassment to you, a mess to clean up. You cried at Mike’s funeral, but not at Billy’s. You never loved him.”
Although he hadn’t cried at either funeral, Wade had mourned Mike sincerely. Billy was another matter, but he refused to take more than his share of the blame for their estrangement. “I’m a product of my environment, just like he was.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Let’s be honest about the family dynamic, Mom. The good times were few and far between. Everyone hated each other. You and Dad, me and Billy. I didn’t create the dysfunction, but I had to live with it. I had to pick a side. Surely you understand that.”
“You picked the side of the abuser, because he was strong. Like you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I’m not like him,” Wade said in a low voice.
“You’re a police officer. You literally followed in his footsteps.”
“Should I have followed in yours, like Billy did?”
She drew back her arm and slapped him then. The blow to his left cheek landed with a stinging crack. It might have hurt her more than it hurt him, however.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”
Wade didn’t forgive her. He couldn’t drum up a single sympathetic feeling. “Let’s talk about why I chose Dad over you. He was the more reliable parent, and he was strong, but that wasn’t the reason. For all his faults, he actually loved me. You didn’t.”
She shook her head in denial.
“Kids reflect what they see and give what they’re given. I didn’t have any love to give Billy, because you never loved me. You still don’t. Whenever I surprise you in an unguarded moment, you look at me like I’m some kind of monster.”
She slumped into a nearby chair, as if her legs would no longer hold her upright.
She was clearly in anguish, and he was still reeling with shock.
She’d never struck him before. He wished he’d never started this conversation.
Instead of continuing it, and causing them both more pain, he left the kitchen.
Meredith wasn’t in the garden. She was near the barn, with Daisy, hugging the dog’s furry head to her chest. When she saw him, she rose to her feet and dusted off her knees. He went inside the barn, and she accompanied him.
“You talked to your mother about Billy,” she said.
“Yes.”
“How did it go?”
“It went great,” he said, slamming the barn door. “She accused me of murder and slapped me.”
Meredith came forward and wrapped her arms around him. He accepted the gesture stiffly. His gut roiled with tension, and he didn’t want his negative emotions to bleed onto her. She massaged his bunched shoulder muscles, undeterred.
“She didn’t mean it,” Meredith said.
“I think she did.”
“Give her time.”
He pulled away from her and grabbed a bottle of water from the minifridge. His throat was dry, his pulse racing. Between the sleepless night, the long day at work, and the terrible confrontation with his mother, he felt like he’d been put through the wringer.
Meredith approached him again, her expression concerned. She lifted a hand to touch the left side of his face. Although there was no pain, there must have been a mark.
Wade set the water aside, his mood shifting.
Her touch reminded him of the pleasures they’d shared yesterday.
He didn’t know how to fix the broken relationship with his mother, but he knew how to find comfort in Meredith.
She was a balm to his soul, the remedy for everything that ailed him.
She was warmth and tenderness personified.
He slid his arms around her, pulling her closer.
He could feel her heartbeat against his.
He could feel her flat belly and soft breasts.
Emotions he couldn’t express swelled within him, along with raw arousal.
He found solace in the physical, as always.
He reached for it like a lifeline. Mindless, strenuous action would soothe him.
She threaded her hands through his hair, accepting him. Wanting him, just the way he was.
“I can’t go slow,” he said.
“Then don’t,” she said simply.
He lowered his mouth to hers. She parted her lips on a sigh.
He tried to be soft, gentle, kissing her in tender strokes.
That lasted about twenty seconds. Her tongue twined around his, and the dam broke inside him.
He growled and lifted her against the nearest hard surface, which happened to be the worktable. A wooden crate fell to the floor.
The crashing sound matched what he was feeling.
He leaned into it, letting go of control.
She kissed him back with the same urgency.
They were both hot and hungry, instantly wild for each other.
She wrapped her legs around his waist. He thrust against her, rocking the table.
Something else toppled off with a satisfying smash.
Yes. This was exactly what he wanted. Needed.
Her hands moved to his T-shirt, sliding under the collar to feel his skin. He wanted more of that, so he tugged the shirt over his head. She splayed her palms across his chest with a sound of appreciation. Her hands weren’t soft. They were slender, but strong.
“Get naked,” he rasped.
Smiling, she removed her shirt and unhooked her bra, letting it fall. His mouth watered at the sight of her strawberry-tipped breasts, tilted up in sensual invitation. Her nipples were tightly puckered, achingly sweet.
He braced his hands under them, spanning her rib cage. “You have beautiful tits.”
She arched her back, and he dipped his head to her.
Nuzzling her chest, he sucked each nipple until it glistened.
He left them stiff and red. This was about all the foreplay he could manage in his current state.
His cock pulsed with arousal, straining at the fly of his jeans.
He fumbled with her waistband. She kicked off her sneakers and lifted her hips to help him remove her jeans.
He stripped off her panties, too. Then she was totally nude, on a metal worktable, with her eyes glittering and her legs spread.
Wade almost swallowed his tongue. Her sex was a pretty sight, shy and pink beneath a silky triangle of dark hair. He was about to drop to his knees and worship her with his mouth when she brought her hand to his fly, distracting him.
His cock surged against her palm, and his hips jerked forward. Holding his breath, he watched her unbutton his jeans and release his turgid flesh. She gave him a languid stroke before placing him at her entrance. He groaned at the feel of her wet heat.
She might not have much experience at this, but she was a natural temptress, and everything she did aroused him.
She rubbed him over her slippery folds, almost inside.
That was the death knell for patience. He pushed her hands aside and took over, filling her in one hard thrust. She gave a sob of pleasure.
He tried to wait a minute for her body to adjust, but she was so slick and hot. He trembled with desire.
“Yes,” she panted in his ear. “Please, Wade.”
With a low groan, he gave her what she wanted.
He withdrew a few inches and plunged forward again, reveling in her slippery heat.
She was really, fantastically wet. He plowed into her in rough strokes, and she met him with sounds of ecstasy.
She clung to his shoulders, her legs wrapped firmly around his hips. Her body language said yes, yes, yes.
He wasn’t going to last, because it was too fucking good.
He managed to slide his hand between them and place his thumb over her clitoris.
There was no teasing this time, no tenderness or finesse.
He just applied pressure, brushing back and forth as he thrust into her.
She responded to the crude stimulation as easily as she’d responded to his gentler explorations.
Hips bucking, she exploded in orgasm, crying out his name.
He could feel her internal muscles fluttering around him as she came.
He waited for her to finish, his teeth clenched. Then he moved his hands to her hips and hammered home, hard and fast and furious. The table shook and rattled under her. With a hoarse shout, he buried himself to the hilt. His release was so powerful, his knees buckled.
Reality returned in slow increments. He was slumped over her, breathing heavily, with his pants around his ankles. He’d just banged the hell out of her on a worktable with no foreplay and no forethought. Warning bells clanged in his mind as he withdrew.
No condom, either.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
That had been sloppy, literally and figuratively. He backed away from the table and pulled up his pants, embarrassed by his lack of control.
Jesus. What was wrong with him?
It wasn’t like him to behave so recklessly. He cared about this woman deeply. He should have been patient and gentle with her. Instead he’d fallen on her like an animal, raw and rough. He’d wanted to do that yesterday. Today, he’d let his base urges take over. He hadn’t even thought to pull out.
Feeling dazed, he grabbed a clean rag from his dresser drawer.
He poured some water on the cloth and passed it to her.
She lowered herself from the table to wipe away his body fluids.
Although her cheeks were flushed, she didn’t look any worse for the wear.
He couldn’t say the same about her workspace.
Broken pieces of pottery, soap ingredients, and sprigs of crushed lavender littered the floor.
“I forgot to use protection,” he said, as if she didn’t know.
“It’s probably fine,” she said. “It’s the wrong time of the month, and I don’t think I can get pregnant, regardless.”
Probably fine was not reassuring. “Why do you think that?”
She finished cleaning herself and left the rag in a plastic bucket. Then she found a fresh T-shirt in his dresser to wear. “Can we sit down?”
He sat on the bed with her. He reached out to hold her hand, uncertain.
“I got this scar from falling into a coffee table,” she said, touching her chin.
“You didn’t fall,” he said flatly. “You were pushed.”
She nodded an acknowledgment and moved on. “I woke up in a pile of broken glass. The cuts were minor, but I had a bruise across my midsection. Since then, I’ve had really bad cramps every month. And I never got pregnant, even before the accident.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t.”
She didn’t say anything.
Wade brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Do you want to?”
“Yes,” she said. “Someday.”
He stretched out on his back and pulled her down next to him. She curled up beside him, warm and soft.
“What about you?” she asked.
“What about me?”
“Do you want a family?”
“Yes,” he said, because he did. He wanted the normalcy he’d never had. He wanted to give the love he’d never felt. Maybe that was a better way to heal than attempting to connect with his parents.
She’s in love with you.
His mother’s words echoed in his ears, and he considered the possibility. Upon reflection, he believed that Wynona had it backward. She’d sensed the emotion between them correctly, but not the source it was generating from.
He was in love with her.
Meredith would bolt if she knew. She was skittish and cautious. Even if she returned his feelings, she wouldn’t want him to pressure her about it. He’d have to build trust, day by day, until she opened her heart to him.
She rested her head on his shoulder and stroked her hand down the center of his chest. Her fingertips traced the smattering of hair around his nipples. “I like this.”
“What?”
“Your chest hair.”
“I used to shave it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I got traumatized by that hairy guy at the pool. I was worried I’d end up like him.”
She touched the hair on his stomach, which caused a predictable reaction.
When he tried to capture her hands, she evaded him, laughing.
He wrestled her into submission easily, then let her go in hopes that she’d get physical again.
He loved her strength, her will, her passion.
She stared up at him, flushed and bright-eyed.
He knew then that he hadn’t been in love with Natalie.
He’d never felt anything like this, for any other woman, in his entire life.
He didn’t know how to tell her that without scaring her away.
So, he attempted to show her, using his body instead of words, and lost himself in the pleasure of the task.