Fearsome (27 page)

Carson’s smile is kind. He regards me with a thoughtful expression and my instincts tell me that he’d like to say something, but for now he’ll keep it to himself.

“Yeah. I should use this room more often.”

I shrug and walk past him to look at the bedrooms. There are no feminine touches anywhere. It’s minimalism to the extreme; however, the rustic wood tones of the Blackard furniture and a few area rugs make the rooms warm and inviting. Carson also has some very fine paintings and sculptures displayed so they stand out. He walks quietly behind me, listening to my compliments. I start to wonder if everyone says the same things when they tour his house and if he is bored with the same reactions.

I’m not paying attention when I walk into the last room and take notice that it’s Carson’s personal space, the master bedroom. The first thing I notice, other than one of his T-shirts tossed on the rumpled bed
—Talia must not have cleaned today—
is my other painting, my self-portrait titled,
“Girl”.
I painted it when I turned nineteen.

The
girl’s
hair is a fire engine-red, the eyes, a little sad, are an unnatural brown with gold bolts, like lightening. The mouth is questionable; it’s hard to tell if the girl is about to smile or closer to crying. It was one of those pieces I almost didn’t let Tom have, but he insisted. And now it’s in Carson’s possession. In his bedroom, three feet from his bed.

“In case you weren’t aware, that’s supposed to be me,” I say.

“I figured. That’s why I bought it.” He shoves his hands in his back pockets and looks perfectly at ease.

“You don’t think it’s kind of strange that I was seeing your brother and during that whole time you had this painting of me in your bedroom?”

Carson shakes his head slowly. “Nope.”

“Well, I feel weird. Actually, I don’t know how I feel. This situation is strange.”

“I like strange, remember?” he says, smiling.

“Okay, now I don’t know what you’re talking about, I—”

“Relax. Jesus. I didn’t put this up when you were dating Dylan. I bought this painting long before you moved here. Besides, I’m the one who tried to stop you from going out with Dylan, remember that part? I knew that would be a disaster.”

“Dylan and I would be a disaster, or you trying to stop me, would be a disaster?”

“Both. Shit.” He laughs. “You’re so fucking analytical. I really do love that about you.”

Goosebumps pop up across my lower arms, sending shivers through my whole body. I desperately want to whisper a very large number, but Carson is observing me, thoroughly.

“I guess we’re done with the tour. I should go and get back to work.” I’m not very convincing since my feet haven’t moved an inch. I suck at first dates.

“Don’t go. Not yet.” He steps forward, closing the small space between us so our bodies are touching. His arms circle around my back and, although Carson looks nothing like Dylan, the familiarity of the move and what follows, send a surge of remorse through me.

“Carson, I only stopped seeing your brother a couple of months ago. This seems like a bad déjà vu.”

“I’m. Not. Dylan.” It’s the uncompromising Carson again, the one that is intimidating and sexy at the same time. It’s the one I’ve had a crush on since my first day in Hera when I decided to settle for a more eager and attainable Dylan.

“Why did you want me to see your house?”

“Because Imogene and Lauren were telling you the truth. I’ve never brought any women here that I dated. The only women who have been here are my housekeeper and friends.”

“So you’re trying to tell me that we’re friends?”
Please don’t say yes. Tell me this is really a first date.

“Ha! No. Obviously, I’m not good at this. I’m trying to tell you that I couldn’t bear it if you moved back to the city. Because… I’m in love with you.”

I stare at his mouth, hanging on those words. “Uh-huh,” I mumble.

“That’s why I tried to talk you out of going out with Dylan and why I had it out with you a few times at your house. Those weren’t my best moments. Not well-played in the least.”

The heat from his body and the firm grip of his hands on my lower back makes me want to melt into his arms, to have the kiss I have imagined over and over, but it’s all a little too good to be true.

“You didn’t try to stop me from dating Dylan because you were in love with me. You’d only known me for like a day or two. I thought you tried to stop me and Dylan because he was in a very precarious emotional state and you knew I could be the tipping point that threw him off edge again.” I pull my hands off his warm, hard chest and try to push back, but Carson doesn’t loosen his grip.

“Jess, I was already in love with you then. When Gin talked about you, when I bought your paintings, I knew I was concocting a plan to be with you. That’s why I didn’t want my brother going out with you. Yes, he’s a fuck up when it comes to relationships and I didn’t want him doing that to you or himself, but I really wanted you for myself.”

“That’s a very good answer.” My heart is racing as I relax my palms on his chest again, letting Carson come in for a crushing kiss. He pulls me in fiercely with his powerful hands and his mouth devours mine. His lips are everything I’ve imagined; soft and relentless. His tongue caresses my lips and sweeps around my mouth before plunging, dueling with me. My heart is beating so fast that I fear it must be audible to Carson.

“I have wanted to kiss you for three hundred and sixty days,” he says between kisses. “How’s that number for you?”

“I’m not sure it’s accurate,” I say through breathless pants.

“It’s probably closer to three hundred and ninety-two days, which is when I bought your paintings.”

He kisses me between my neck and collarbone. I let out a sharp breath from the electrifying sensation taking over my body.

“Stay with me. Here,” Carson says, coming up for breath. “In my bed. Now.”

“Uh-huh,” I mumble, being reduced to the same cave man dialect as him.

Carson slips off my cardigan, then I fumble with removing my tank top and jeans as quickly as possible. He removes his shirt and I can’t take my eyes away from his spectacularly muscular arms and chest. I study his scars up close, which only add to his sexiness. His legs are not sinewy like a runner's; they are thicker, more powerful, like someone who does a lot of bench squats or tosses tree trunks for fun.

I scramble backwards onto the bed with my panties and lace bra still on. Carson climbs over me, corralling me onto the middle of the bed. He is naked except for his briefs, which are bulging against me.

“Let me be perfectly clear here,” he says with bated breath.

My hands are all over his body, feeling his hard muscles as I listen to him.

“We will not mention his name in this room again,” he demands. “This room is about you and me. Understood?”

I nod eagerly and then a look of alarm must have passed over my face as he reaches into his nightstand and removes an entire box of condoms.

“You must be very good at this if you think we need a whole box of condoms.”

Carson laughs. “It’s never been opened. I hope they’re not expired.”

I laugh as he struggles to be suave while he tries to open the condom with one hand and then his teeth since he’s still perched over me on his other hand. I grab the condom from him and open it. “Let me.”

Carson’s expression darkens. Without taking his eyes off me, he pulls his underwear off. I look down and, once again, my inexperience shows. I blanch at the size of his erection, but not wanting to ruin the moment, I reach for him and begin to slide the condom on. He moans as I slide my hands down between his legs and stroke him then trail my fingers slowly up his sides and back down around his firm ass. He’s looking at me with unabashed lust.

He follows my hands as I slide my panties off and wriggle out of them. Then his eyes move slowly up my body as my fingers unfasten the front clasp of my bra. My breasts are already perky, waiting for him. Carson takes in one ragged breath before running his tongue across my nipples.

I open my legs and hold his cock, rubbing it against me, getting more wet with each stroke. Carson moans, yet doesn’t rush me. As he sucks on my breasts and circles my nipples with his tongue, I move his hardness in small circles against me, prodding a little inside and then pulling him back. We’re both losing control.

He’s on my mouth again, kissing, using his other hand to pinch my hard nipples, which are straining along with my lower body that is dripping and trembling. I pull my legs up and wrap them around Carson’s waist to urge him into me.

“Wait,” he says, gently pushing my hand away from the appendage I’m desperate to have inside of me. “I want you to be ready for me.”

“Carson, I can’t get any more ready,” I moan.

He begins rubbing my clit with the pad of his thumb and my eyes roll back into my head. It feels too good with him touching me. His tongue is sweeping through my mouth again and I feel his fingers go inside of me, swirling gently and then rubbing my clit over and over. I reach underneath him and stroke the soft skin under his balls.

“Ah, fuck, yes,” he hisses into my ear. “I need you.”

I grab his ass and arch towards him, pushing him inside of me. There’s no more desire to keep it slow when he enters me in one powerful thrust. I yelp with pleasure, but then he gets control of himself and thrusts in and out at a slower pace to make it last.

“Carson,” I whimper.

“I knew you’d feel like this. So good. So perfect.” He struggles to talk and I like that I’m causing this.

I run my hands across all his hard lines. I can’t get enough of him and it feels as if he can’t push into me all the way. Either I’m too small or he’s too big. He doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are half closed and it seems he can’t decide whether to keep his mouth on my breasts or keep kissing me. I love that his smooth composure has collapsed and he’s as frazzled as I am.

He does a grind, circle, thrust move that begins the aching momentum in me. I look up at Carson’s intense face and blue eyes as I run my hands through his hair. At that point, he thrusts harder and faster, never taking his eyes off mine. I only close my eyes the moment he rubs against me in that perfect way that sets off a completely shuddering climax.

I’m still coming when I hear him utter a curse. His long thrusts slow down and then he pounds into me with deep grunts of enjoyment. When the last wave of gratification subsides, I open my eyes. Carson regards me with what I can only describe as complete satisfaction. He closes his large frame around my body and kisses me tenderly.

“I do love you,” he says into my hair so I can’t see his face. “But you don’t have to say anything. Just think about it.”

“Of course, I’m thinking about it.”

His lips hover above mine, brushing against me. He pulls off the condom and wraps it in a tissue before returning to lie by my side. I turn to face him and want to tell him that I’m falling in love with him, too. That I’ve been crushing on him for months, however, the mood is perfect as it is.

It’s late afternoon, our bodies entwined as we hold each other and offer tender kisses when it occurs to me that I missed a conference call for work.

“Oh, shoot. The team meeting. I missed it. I have to go,” I say, looking around the bed for my underwear.

“No, not so fast,” he says. “You already missed the meeting and we’re not done here.”

He pulls me back down on my right side, pinning me in place with my back set against his chest. I hear him opening a condom and rolling it on. He doesn’t get any protest from me.
Yeah, I’m really dedicated to my job
.

His hand comes over my hip and he forces his fingers between my legs, rubbing and probing as he brings my senses back to the brink. His bottom hand pulls my lower hip back just as he enters me from behind. I can’t move, but he manages to pull my leg over his and thrust deeply back and forth with enough strength to move both of us together. I put my arms in front of our bodies to brace myself as Carson plunges in and out of me, rocking the mattress across the platform bed.

Between his thrusts and his fingers rubbing me, I’m going wild with excitement. I push my rear end back harder to meet his driving cock, waiting for it to be my undoing. Carson’s breathing becomes heavier and louder and I know he wants to come, although he is doing everything he can to make me climax first. His fingers are wet from stroking my slick center and he slides himself easily back and forth when I come. I tighten all my muscles around him as it takes me over.

“Oh damn, that feels good,” Carson groans through heavy breaths as his body erupts.

I’m facing the wall and the portrait of me. I close my eyes and enjoy this moment of being in Carson’s bed.

“Don’t move,” he commands from behind me. I hear him peel the condom off and then he gets up from the bed. He’s in the bathroom and then back, hugging me.

“I really have to get home and call my boss,” I say, yet my voice is as tired as I feel.

“If you’re going to blow your work day—which you already did, by the way—you might as well go big,” he suggests. I haven’t turned around to face him, but I can hear the smile in his tone. “Take a shower with me.”

I feign a small protest, but I walk into the spa shower with its three shower heads and the naked man whose presence makes me never want to leave. The man I’m pretty sure I’m in love with.

Twenty-Six

It’s still light out when I leave Carson’s home. He threatens to drag me back inside, but I manage to give a convincing case that work really does beckon me. Nathan has left three messages on my cell phone.

I drive down the narrow road through the woods, but I’m not worried about finding my way back home. It’s still fairly light out and there’s only one way in and out. The wooded drive opens onto the narrow road that eventually merges onto the larger county road. I keep my eyes on the lookout for the old, wooden bridge that crosses over a stream with at least a fifteen-foot drop. It must be a scary road to navigate if you drive too fast or it’s covered in snow.