Risky Business, page 29
Just because he’s here to take it back doesn’t change that.
“Why are you here?” I demand, already planning and considering my possible responses depending on whatever he answers.
“We need to talk. First and foremost, are you okay?” he growls, stopping several feet away from my blanket stronghold.
That is not one of the things I thought he might say. “Yeah?”
He grinds his teeth. “You left the charity event, and I couldn’t find you anywhere. I was worried, and then mad. Mostly worried.” Quieter, he confesses, “And hurt.”
It could be a list of emotions without reference, except that I can see each of them cross his face, with the pain resting there the longest. Plus, I’ve felt the same way.
“Did you get drunk and sing sad songs?” I ask with the smallest hint of acknowledgement.
He huffs out a wry laugh. “I spent the night with Myron.”
“What?”
“I wanted to see you, but he wouldn’t let me in or tell me if you were even there. So I waited.” He shrugs as if that’s no big deal, but I know sitting outside my building while Myron contemplates the different ways he could end your life in ranking of least to most painful is more than most men could withstand.
“Then what?” I ask, suddenly interested in how he went from a Myron hangout session to here on the sandy beach with me.
He takes two steps closer, still standing over me. Not in a looming way, but rather as if he’s waiting for me to invite him to sit, letting me control the pace. “Then Toni had the idea to enlist Taya for help. The video of that went viral, which you can yell at me about later, but it worked. She responded, telling me where you were. I don’t know if she arranged the flight or if that was your parents.” He tilts his head, thinking.
“My parents?” I pat the blanket impatiently, gesturing for him to sit down because this I need to hear.
He approaches slowly, on guard as he lowers down next to me. “They were at the airport. Flew with me to LA so we could talk.”
“They’re here? What did they tell you?” I ask suspiciously.
“They went back home, just wanted to talk to me.” He looks deep into my eyes. “They apologized for ‘springing themselves on me’, as they called it. They thought I knew. I apologized for being a frozen idiot because I didn’t know.” He drops his gaze to the blanket. “And then they told me some cute stories about you as a kid. My favorite one was when you tried to go to college with James by enrolling yourself in classes online. That sounded like something you’d do.”
I can’t help but smile. “That’s one of my favorite stories too.”
James, as the oldest, was the first of my brothers to leave home, and I was missing him before he was even gone. It only made sense for me to go to school with him. Well, at least it made sense to me. Until Dad found out I’d used his credit card to pay for enrollment and Mom had freaked out about my leaving home, even though it was nearly a decade away at the time.
We’re quiet for a moment, and I watch as Carson’s fingers dance closer and closer to mine, testing and giving me time to stop him. I should. I know I should. I’ve already made this mistake.
But I don’t want to stop him.
And that’s why I do.
I get up from the blanket, shaking my head. “I can’t. It’s a risk I can’t take again. I’m sorry.”
I try to run for Taya’s house, tears already spilling down my cheeks, but the sand slows me down. I make it as far as the beachy brush before Carson’s voice on the slight wind cuts through my raging mind and breaking heart.
“I love you, Jayme.”
My feet get caught in the sand, and I stumble, tumbling to the soft ground.
“Shit,” Carson hisses, following me down. “Are you okay?” he asks, brushing his thumb over my cheek gently. I think he’s asking if the no-big-deal drop to the sand has hurt me, but his eyes scour my face and I realize he’s not asking about that at all. He wants to know why I’m running from him.
I scramble to get out from underneath him, needing space, even if it’s only a few inches, because my anger is about to explode out. I need to say it and he needs to hear it, but I’m still trying to shield him and get him slightly out of the blast zone. “No. No, I’m not. I got in the middle of you and Archer because that’s my job, Carson. It’s my job to protect you, your image, and Americana Land. And Archer was purposefully trying to ruin it all and you very nearly let him. He was baiting you.” I shake my head vehemently. “I won’t apologize for saving you, and if your ego can’t handle that, then that’s on you.”
Carson flinches as if I slapped him, but then a look of confusion wrinkles his brow. “What are you talking about?”
“You came and grabbed me away from the Fergusons. I could tell how mad you were, but you didn’t even explain or let me explain. You just kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before, taking any last bit of myself I had left for your own and then pulling away like it . . . like I wasn’t worth it. I knew what that was—a goodbye kiss. And now, you’re telling me you love me? It’s too little, too late.”
There’s a hitch in my voice that I wish wasn’t there, but he’s broken me, turned me into a puddle of needy longing.
“You didn’t understand,” he rumbles as he shoves his fingers through his hair, getting sand everywhere. He looks disappointed. In me? Himself? Fuck if I know at this point.
“Carson, obviously, communication isn’t a strong point. Can we try it with small words, maybe? See if that helps.” It’s a bitchy thing to say, way beyond the pale for even how I would speak to a client who needs a bash upside the head to see reason. But I’m so confused, and like Carson confessed to earlier . . . hurt.
“Not mad about Archer. Embarrassed. Not goodbye. I love you.” Carson grunts the words out caveman-style without the slightest bit of a smile. In fact, his face is stone cold and flat, giving no hint of the emotion behind his words.
I dissect what he just said in a slow, almost wondering voice. “I thought I overstepped with Archer. But you weren’t mad at me for that?”
He shakes his head, one dark brow lifted wryly. “Sexy.”
Okay, that is not what I took from the dark looks he was giving me. Could I have been reading him wrong? Was my judgement that clouded by my own worries about overstepping?
“The kiss wasn’t a goodbye kiss?” I question.
Instead of answering with his words, he’s on me. His weight presses me back into the sand and his mouth covers mine. His lips move over me for a second before I react, and then, when I return the kiss, his tongue demands entry. He claims my mouth, taking my breath away, only to breathe life into me once again.
I realize what he’s doing. He’s kissing me the way he did at the event, but it seems so very different. It’s not a goodbye kiss at all. I can tell that now. He loves me. That I can feel with every press of his body to mine, every glance of his thumb against my jaw, every tender lick of his tongue over mine.
Oh, God! Did I really get it so wrong? Was he saying I love you all along?
But even if that’s true, he didn’t react well to meeting Mom and Dad.
The thought is a dash of cold water on the passion Carson builds so easily in me, and I push him back, panting for air. “What about after that? My parents.”
“Definite shocker,” he says nonchalantly, as if my dad isn’t who he is. “They seem nice.” His eyes are glancing over my face, cataloging every line as I react to his words.
“Wait, what? I’m gonna need more words on that one.”
He smiles lazily. “They seem nice. Your mom says there’s monthly dinners and we’re expected to attend.” He relaxes to the sand beside me, seeming wholly unbothered by anything now that we’re talking things out in each other’s arms.
I look at him incredulously. “You don’t care about who my dad is? You damn near froze up like an ice sculpture.”
“Well, yeah. It’s enough pressure meeting your woman’s parents, but to do it unexpectedly like that? Pressure. And then it’s Jameson Brooks? Even more pressure.” He lays on his back, his arms folded beneath is head as a makeshift pillow. “I didn’t understand why you didn’t tell me, especially after everything we’d gone through. But your dad explained a bit on the flight. He said your family has worked its collective ass off to stay incognito, and it’s like the ultimate and final test, which is understandable. I know I didn’t pass with flying colors, but I hope I’m at least passing the re-take.” He gives me a blue-eyed wink designed to charm me into agreement.
This is my out.
He wasn’t mad about my actions in dealing with Archer. And he understands why I didn’t tell him about my parents. I can simply move forward from here and Carson would never know the difference. He’d think that it was all a big misunderstanding that he accepted blame for, and I accepted his apology, and we can simply move forward.
But that’s not what I would tell a client to do. I try to encourage people to be honest as much as possible and as often as possible. That doesn’t mean being unfiltered or blurting things out, but speaking your truth thoughtfully can be a powerful freedom.
Or so I’ve told a client or two.
It’s time for me to take my own advice.
“I love you too.” Carson moves in to kiss me again, his lips upturned into a pleased smile, but this time I do stop him. “Wait. There’s more.”
He looks worried there’s going to be a ‘but’ after my declaration of love, but that’s not it.
“I love you, and I wanted to tell you but I wasn’t sure how because I’ve never felt like this before. And I’m still afraid you won’t want me stepping in front of you, but that’s what I do. I wanted to tell you about my parents too. But I was nervous and hadn’t worked up the guts yet. I know I’m a lot, and if you can’t handle it, that’s okay. I’ll understand if you want something easier.”
That’s true. I would understand. I’m mouthy with the brains to back it up. I’m bossy with no plans to change. I’m protective because it’s how I show that I care. And if I’m too much or push too many of his buttons, he can go. It’ll destroy me, but I’ll live. I’m scared I’m going to have to, though.
“Fucking badass.” He says it as though he’s talking about me, but that doesn’t make any sense when I’m confessing to all my fears. He lowers his voice, ordering quietly, “Say it one more time.”
“I was scared to tell you,” I venture. But he shakes his head. It’s then that I know exactly what he wants me to say. “I love you.”
“Yes,” he whispers, as if my words give him actual physical pleasure. Then we’re kissing again, and it’s different this time. No miscommunications or secrets remain. It’s just us, together, the reward finally worth the risk.
“As much as I want to make love to you, I think I’ve sworn off sandy places as an option. Think Taya would mind if we borrowed one of her guest rooms?” Carson whispers between kisses.
I nod, breaking the kiss. “Come on.”
I grab the blanket from the sand, letting the wind shake out the excess grains, and wad it up under my arm. Carson takes it from me, and then, holding hands, we make our way back to the house. We set the blanket outside to keep the sand on Taya’s floors at a minimum and go in the back door.
Taya and Carlo are sitting on the couch watching a basketball game. Their eyes don’t leave the screen as we come inside, but Taya calls out, “Guest room off the kitchen is all yours. I’ll leave pizza in the fridge for you for later.”
I see the box of pizza on the coffee table and think that if there’s a single slice left, I’ll be surprised.
“It’s okay. Just taking a shower and getting cleaned up,” I reassure her nonsensically because Carson is kissing and nibbling along my neck as he matches me step for step.
In the bedroom, Carson growls, “I want you in a bed where I can feast on you all night, exploring every single inch of your body.”
I groan. “Yes.”
CHAPTER 30
CARSON
I reach out blindly, pure luck letting me flip the lights on as we go into the guest bedroom, thankful that the hallway was long and we’re far away from Taya and Carlo because I want to make Jayme scream my name. Honestly, I don’t care who hears, though. I want everyone to know I’m the lucky asshole she’s chosen.
I reach behind her head and pull gently on the band there, letting her blonde hair fall in a curtain around her shoulders. She shakes her head out with a soft smile as she looks up at me. There’s something different in her eyes now. Something more, but also . . . less? There’s no filter, no façade between us now. Just pure, full-strength Jayme, and her love shines bright and bold in its power. To be loved by her is something I don’t know I’ll ever think I deserve, but I will never stop trying to be worthy of her.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I whisper as I drop to my knees in worship. I lift her sweatshirt up, revealing the flat expanse of her stomach to lay a line of kisses up her flesh as I push the shirt higher and higher, growling against her soft skin, “I love you.”
She reaches for the hem of the shirt herself, pulling it over her head. Her breasts drop right into my waiting hands. Cupping and kneading them, I tease her nipples with my thumbs. I nuzzle a hard nub with my nose as I glance up to her, meeting her eyes. Her hands thread into my hair, encouraging me, telling me exactly what she wants.
“I love you,” I repeat before flicking her sensitive nipple with my tongue. She moans, and I suck as much of her breast into my mouth as I can, drawing pleasure through every nerve there with continued flicks of my tongue.
I push at the waistband of her leggings, and she wiggles her hips, shimmying them down while still holding me at her breast. I feel her step one foot and then the other, removing the pants completely so when I grab her ass, her bare cheeks fill my hands. “Yes,” I hiss, praising her as her hips buck in response to my firm grip. “Is that how you’re going to fuck me back when I’m balls deep inside that pussy?”
She whines but finds the strength to say, “Yes. Fuck me.”
“I will,” I vow. But not yet. I pull back slightly, wanting to draw this out.
Instead, I blow cool air over the bare skin just above her pussy, using my thumbs to spread her lips. “Spread your feet apart,” I tell her, and she widens her stance. The beautiful sight of her pussy, pink and gleaming, greets my eyes. She’s so wet, there’s a string of her honey stretching toward a point high on her inner thigh. “So pretty. So sexy. So wet.” I trace my thumb along that crease at the top of her thigh, gathering her juices, and then lick the sweetness from my thumb to taste her. “Delicious.”
“Lick me,” she demands. There’s no begging. She’s still hanging on to some thread of control, which is fine . . . for now.
“I love you,” I promise, eyes on my prize—Jayme’s pretty little pearl of a clit. Holding her thighs apart, I flatten my tongue, lapping at her. I get taste after yummy taste of her honey but focus on driving her higher and higher until the pleasure is causing her to keen loudly.
Her hands wrap around my head, her palms blotting out my hearing, but I wouldn’t stop for anything right now. Not when she’s bucking against my tongue, holding me against her pussy, and ordering me to make her come. I wrap a tight arm around her waist, wanting to ensure that she doesn’t lose her balance when she comes, and drop a hand between her thighs. I slip two fingers inside her effortlessly, the juices coating me and easing my way in. I plunge in and out of her, timing my thrusts with hard sucks to her clit.
Distantly, my cock is painfully throbbing in the tight confines of my jeans, on the verge of coming from her pleasure alone. But I ignore it in favor of getting Jayme there.
I growl against her animalistically, my fingers making a squelching sound as I pound into her. Jayme freezes for a prolonged moment, her entire body going stiff and still, and then she spasms wildly. I fight to hold her securely as her pussy walls clamp and release my fingers in waves, her hips buck, and her upper body folds forward, cocooning me as she holds me to her, still not letting me stop.
As if I would.
I keep licking and sucking, pumping into her deeply and holding my fingers there as I grunt encouragingly. Jayme’s cries of pleasure are high-pitched as she falls over the edge and into my arms. I hold her securely, affectionately telling her pussy, “I love you.”
She laughs lightly and taps me on the head to get my eyes. “I’m up here,” she says, her eyes sparkling as she holds V’d fingers up to them.
“Shh,” I whisper with a wink. “I was having a private conversation with my girl down here.” I tilt my head as though listening to her pussy tell me a secret and then nod. “Sure thing, babe.” As if her pussy requested it, I lick a long line from Jayme’s entrance to her clit, sampling her cum. She wiggles, laughing a bit.
The laughter ends with a satisfied sigh that’s the best compliment my ego’s ever heard. But I’m not done, not by a longshot. Now it’s my turn to be bossy.
“Lie down,” I command roughly, rubbing my palm over my rock-hard cock. The zipper of my jeans provides just enough painful pleasure to keep me from going insane. Jayme grins girlishly and damn near hops over to the bed to lie down, her head on the pillows and her legs scissoring together as she watches me.
I reach behind my head, pulling my T-shirt over and off. Jayme’s eyes follow my hands as I rub my palms over my chest and down my abs. “Show me,” she breathes before catching her bottom lip between her teeth.
“You wanna see my cock. See what you’ve done to me?” I dare.
She nods silently, her eyes wide and hungry. I undo my jeans and push the front of them down, along with my underwear, letting my cock out. I don’t need to look at myself to know what Jayme sees. I’m stiff and swollen with desire for her, throbbing and purple with need and leaking pre-cum after experiencing the sexiness of her orgasm. I take myself in hand, giving the base a tight squeeze that makes me hiss as a drop of clear fluid runs over the tip and down my shaft.
