Can't Stand the Heat (21 page)

Stephanie laughed as they drew near their cars. “Oh, I can't wait to tell Cynthia and Dawn about this one! You should have seen yourself in there, Laurie! That woman had to have you by about seventy pounds and you still whooped her ass! I handled mine, too!” She clapped her hands. “Talk about the Gibbons girls, huh? Do that and you get
beat down!”

Lauren narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Did you have sex with that woman's husband, Stephanie? That Hank guy she was talking about? And don't lie to me!”

Stephanie sat on the hood of her BMW. She casually reached into her purse, flipped open a gold compact, and examined her reflection. “Damn it, that bitch scratched my cheek,” she mumbled. “And I was going to do another house tour tomorrow. I'm going to look like a hot mess!”

Lauren took her sister's refusal to answer her question as a “yes.”

“I do not believe this! You
did
have sex with him!”

Stephanie slid off the hood. “No, I didn't.”

“Yeah, right! Why the hell should I believe you?”

“It's the truth! We didn't have sex!” She wrinkled her nose. “I just . . . I just spanked him a little.”

“Girl, don't look at me like that! It was what he needed!” she argued, flipping her compact closed with a
click
. “Believe me! I was helping him out! That guy is working through some serious issues, and it's not like his wife was gonna spank him! Come on, you saw her! That chick's so tight-assed you could stick a coal up her butt and make a diamond. She should be
thanking
me!”

Lauren gritted her teeth. “I stood up for you. I stood up for
all
of you! I almost got put in handcuffs to defend a family of women who steal other people's husbands and aren't even ashamed about it!”

“I wasn't trying to steal her husband! I told you! I just spanked him. That's all! I got a gold diamond bracelet out of it! I thought it was a fair exchange. Besides, it was more like . . . it was more like . . . I borrowed him for a bit. You know how it is.”

“You
use
men!” Lauren pointed up at her sister. “You hunt them down! You take their money! And you use them until they get tired of you or until they don't have any more money to steal! You sell yourselves to the highest bidder!” she yelled as tears began to fill her eyes. “You're all just a bunch of . . . of . . . gold-diggin', ass-spankin' whores! And I'm tired of it! I'm tired of getting dragged into your crazy bullshit!”

“Our
crazy bullshit?” Stephanie shouted. “What about the bullshit you dragged
us
into with James? Huh? What about that?”

“I didn't drag you! You guys were just as happy to use him like I was, and now we're all paying the price for it! You're not going to make me feel guilty about this, Steph! I'm tired of all of you making me feel guilty! I'm tired of
all of you!”

Stephanie looked deeply wounded by her sister's words. “But . . . we're sisters. We always have each other's back. You have mine. I have yours. That's what Mama taught us!”

“Well, maybe she taught us wrong!”

Stephanie watched as Lauren climbed into her car.

“Where are you going?” she asked as Lauren turned on the ignition and threw the car into reverse, tires screeching in her wake.

“Lauren! Lauren!” she yelled as the car drove out of the parking lot.

“L
auren? Lauren?” Cris called from the other side of her front door. He knocked again. “Baby, if you're in there, open up.”

“I'm coming,” Lauren answered tiredly as she shuffled across her living room in her bedroom slippers, tank top, and drawstring shorts. She had already addressed the few scratches on her face with hydrogen peroxide and strategically placed Band-Aids, but she was still nursing the swollen knuckles of her right hand with a sandwich bag filled with ice cubes. Nothing could be done for the few bruises that were starting to sprout all over her body, probably the result of the wild tumble she took to the ground during the dressing-room brawl.

She slowly opened the door to find Cris leaning against the frame, gazing down at her.

“Hey.”

“Eh, Rocky. Did you get a knockout in the eleventh round or the ninth?”

“Very funny.” She turned around and walked back into the living room. He followed her after shutting the door behind him.

“You all right?”

She slumped back onto the couch, still holding the ice pack to her knuckles. “My self-respect is in worse shape than I look, if that's what you mean.”

He sat down beside her. “What happened?”

“Don't you already know? I mean . . . I would have thought the story had traveled at lightning speed by now.”

“The town version has,” he said as he studied her with his dark eyes and rubbed his hands together. “But I wanted to hear
your
version of what happened.”

She grumbled loudly. “Just the same ol', same ol'.” She raised the ice pack to look down at her knuckles and flexed her sore hand.

She wouldn't be handling any knives anytime soon. It would probably be a good idea to tell Phillip she wasn't coming in tomorrow.

“Stupid Lauren gets wrapped up in family drama, and Stupid Lauren makes an ass of herself. This time I just ended up assaulting a few people in the process.”

“So you
did
start the fight, then?”

“Well, yeah, kind of . . . I guess.”

He slowly shook his head. “Damn it, Lauren . . .”

“Look, Cris, I know what I did was dumb! I don't need any lectures. It was completely out of character for me. That's not the type of person I am.”

“So why were you that type of person today?”

“Because that chick pressed the wrong button! She shouldn't have talked shit about me, my mom, or my sisters even if . . . even if most of it is true.”

“But Lauren, baby,” he said quietly, “you can't punch everyone who talks shit about your family. This isn't a school yard. You could get arrested. You could end up in jail and—”

“I know that.” She clenched her jaw so hard it hurt. “I told you I don't need a lecture, especially from you. You don't know what it's like!”

“What
what's
like?”

“Everyone in town respects you! You're Cris Weaver, the big-time NFL wide receiver! You don't know what it's like to have everyone think the
worst
of you, to have people whispering things about you as soon as you walk into a room. Hell, before you even
get
into a room!” She tore her gaze from his. Her eyes drifted to the carpet. “I've tried so hard to prove to everyone around here that I've changed. I don't want to steal anyone's husband. I'm not trying to take anyone's money. I bust my ass in that restaurant every day because I want to feel worthy of their respect, Cris. It's like I'm saying ‘Look, everybody!' ” she shouted with tears welling in her eyes. “ ‘Lauren Gibbons did it all by herself! She didn't need any man to give it to her! No one pulled any strings! I did it
all
by myself!' ” She angrily tossed her ice pack aside. It landed on the scuffed coffee table and slid across its wooden surface before tumbling to the floor. “But they won't accept that. They keep throwing the past and my family in my face! They won't let it go!”

Cris watched her quietly weep.

“Lauren,” he began softly as he placed a warm hand on her shoulder, “why are you trying to prove anything to those people? Who cares what they think? Besides, if you hate the people in this damn town so much, why don't you leave? Why do you stay here?”

Lauren wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “I used to think it was because I couldn't stand to be away from my mom or my sisters. I could kill them sometimes for the things they do, but I still love them. They're all I've ever known. But now . . . Now I'm not so sure that's the reason. I think it's something else.” She finally tore her gaze from the carpet and looked up at him. “I think . . . I think I'm scared, Cris.”

His frown deepened. “Scared of what?”

Tears began to fall onto her cheeks again. She licked her lips, nervous at the fact that she would finally express her deep, dark fear aloud.

“I'm . . .” She hesitated. “I'm scared that everyone else in the world will see me the same way that everyone sees me in Chesterton. I'm scared that the chef's coat and the smile won't hide it.” She pointed at her chest. “They'll look at me and they'll see me for what I really am.”

Cris raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for her to finish.

“A whore. They'll know I'm a whore, Cris. Then I won't be able to lie to myself anymore. I'll know I'm not fooling anyone.”

Cris fixed her with a measured gaze. “You really think that's what people would see?”

“I don't know.” She exhaled and grabbed the ice pack from the floor. “Like I said, I'm too scared to find out.”

She wiped the last of her tears away and sniffed for the last time. She noticed after a few seconds that Cris was still staring at her. She gazed back at him.

“What?”

“Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” She gave a tired smile. “I'm afraid to ask.”

“You shouldn't be. Because I see someone who didn't have the best upbringing, who was taught a lot of wrong things, but managed to overcome them and try to make things right. I see a woman who had a man belittle her and beat her, but she didn't let him break her.”

When her gaze started to wander to the floor, he grabbed her chin and shifted her head so they gazed into each other's eyes.

“I see a woman who has more strength in her than I've seen in
anyone.
And I see a woman who has been trying so hard to prove she's changed her ways that she's kept me at arm's length. She won't let me in.”

Lauren was instantly hurt by his words.

“That is
not true!
I haven't tried to keep you at arm's length. I've told you everything . . . everything . . . there is to know about me! I've done everything to show you that I care about you, that I . . . that I love you, Cris.”

“Everything short of sharing your bed with me.”

She closed her eyes, unable to argue with that. Yes, she hadn't slept with him, but it wasn't to put distance between them. He had to know that. If there was anyone she desperately wanted to feel a connection with—mind, heart,
and
body—it was Cris.

“But we could easily change that. Let me stay the night.”

She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying desperately to think of an excuse why he shouldn't stay, but she could not.
He
wanted this.
She
wanted this. But something still held her back.

“You're . . . very important to me, Cris,” she said softly, finally opening her eyes, trying to put her tangled thoughts into words. “I've screwed up a lot of things in my life. I just . . . I just don't . . . want to . . . mess this up, too.”

“So don't.”

“But it's not that simple!”

“Yes, it is.”

He then cupped her face and lowered his lips to hers. A warm tingle flowed from his lips to all points in her body. She wanted to pull away from him but couldn't work up the will to, not when he made her feel like this.

He shifted his hand from her chin to the back of her neck and carefully tilted back her head as their kiss deepened.

She could taste her own salty tears and she could taste him. Their breathing grew heavy, almost synchronizing. When she felt herself being pressed back against the couch cushions, she didn't try to sit up. She let Cris lead the way.

The soreness from earlier disappeared, along with the feeling of helplessness. She felt warm, content, and secure in his arms. But the warmth was growing more and more intense, into a searing heat with each caress and each kiss. Her hesitation was quickly dissolving under his touch.

He tugged her tank top over her head and tossed it to the carpeted floor. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath, so he instantly cradled one of her breasts in the palm of his hand, teasing the dark nipple, making it gooseflesh. His other hand slowly descended past the elastic waistband of her shorts and parted her legs as his nimble fingers began to fondle her clit, coaxing forth a supple wetness between her thighs. She moaned. She bucked. She twisted beneath his touch.

His eyes darkened with pleasure as he watched her writhe. He pulled his hands away and Lauren took that as her cue. She eagerly pushed her shorts and underwear over her hips and down her legs, figuring now was the moment that he would enter her.

With James it had always been that way—a few minutes of foreplay before he had her bent over the side of the bed.

But Cris—once again showing how much he was unlike her ex—did the opposite. He left her there panting, practically squirming with sexual need as he stood and slowly undressed, unbuttoning his shirt and lowering the zipper of his jeans, as he hungrily gazed down at her. And she hungrily gazed up at him, letting her eyes rake over his body: his muscles, his glowing brown skin, the tattoos on his shoulder and back. Standing there, he looked eerily like some Polynesian god who had just descended to earth, ready to take his maiden.

When he pulled off his underwear, she saw the
very
visible evidence that he was just as aroused and eager as she was, but he was taking his time. When he finally finished undressing, she grabbed his hand and eagerly tugged him back down to her. Despite her small size, she pulled him with enough might that he fell against her and the couch, making them both smile.

When Cris eased between her thighs again, she knew without question that she wouldn't be able to hold back this time around. Despite her worries and misgivings, she wanted him. She wanted him so badly, she swore that she would explode if she couldn't have him tonight.

They kissed languidly, enjoying the sensation, having their fill of one another. Her fingers traced the landscape of his back and shoulders as his mouth lowered and he nibbled at her breasts. He kissed her again and she gripped his manhood, feeling it tense in her grasp, listening to him groan at her touch. He pushed her legs wider and she felt his fingers slide inside her then. She closed her eyes. As his fingers moved, gliding in and out, she shivered and bucked, whimpering against his lips.

The entire time, his manhood pressed against her urgently, leaving a moist trail along her thighs, but Cris continued to hold back. He shifted her upward so that her head draped over the edge of the couch, making her feel lightheaded, almost dizzy. She couldn't see what he was doing now. But she felt him kiss her breasts again, then her stomach. He hooked her calves over his shoulders and lowered his mouth between her legs. She shouted out then in surprise, unable to hold back when she felt him kiss her, stroke her. He licked her clit and sucked it. He was pushing her to the brink, and just when she felt as if she had finally hit her crest, he stopped and she whimpered. He climbed back on top of her and she could tell from the look in his eyes, on his face, that he was being pushed to the brink himself.

He paused and reached for his jeans, which were discarded on the floor. She watched as he began to sift through his pockets and pulled out a condom wrapper from his wallet. Within seconds, he had the condom on and was kissing her again. But by now, Lauren was starting to grow impatient with their foreplay. She would end the torture if he wouldn't.

Lauren pressed her hands against his chest and shoved him onto his back with strength she didn't know she had. She steadied herself and lowered her hips, guiding him inside her. She breathed in sharply at the sensation and he moaned. As her hips began to move and she braced her hands against his chest, they commenced the slow, languid rhythm of lovemaking. After several minutes, his grip around her hips tightened. She saw him grit his teeth and furrow his brows. She knew he was close to coming.

Lauren still hadn't quite reached her pleasure peak, but again, she was used to it. She had never successfully reached orgasm with any of her lovers. At least with Cris, she could take joy in being this close to him, in finally sharing something with him that she had yearned to share for so long.

But again, he proved himself different. Instead of giving a satisfied grunt and going slack, he abruptly shifted, pushing her onto her back, taking the reins. The pace of their lovemaking suddenly increased. She felt her legs being spread apart wider and wider as he dove deeper and deeper, harder and harder, all the while kissing her, telling her how much he loved her. That's when she started to feel it.

It started at her center, a knot that seemed to tighten more and more with each passing second. Then the vibrations started and her heart began to thrum like a bass string in her chest. All she could hear were their moans and the blood pounding in her ears. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and gritted her teeth, fighting to catch her bearings, shocked by what was happening to her body. Then suddenly all thoughts disappeared. She felt the waves crest over her and she cried out just as Cris started to shout when he could hold back no longer.