Darker Water (18 page)

“No sex. Not now, and later...”

“No sex now. Got it. We’ll figure out later
when it comes.”

“I’m all wet.” That’s hot.

When her arms slid off my shoulders again, I
cursed, the word drawn out until I understood what she was
doing.

She pulled up her soaking shirt, exposing her
smooth, curvy, feminine belly and waist. When the shirt got stuck
on her shoulders and she couldn’t get it over her head, I helped.
Her pants were next. I helped with those too. Shoes came off with
them.

Beautiful.

“Not yet, okay?”

“Huh?” I yanked my eyes away from her body.
“Sorry, lost focus there for a minute.”

“Sex. Not right away. Is that okay with
you?”

“It’s your call, Lane. I’ll take whatever’s
offered.” Was my look of disappointment as bad as I thought it was?
“We’d better stay away from the bed and the couch though.” I was
only so strong, and lying on top of her would pretty much negate
all of it.

“And the shower.”

I loved her mind. I really did. “Okay, that
means we could go table or counter or wall. Lots of possibilities
here, Lane. Pick one.”

“Whatever’s closest.”

Deep breath. “You said slow, right? If I
forget, just smack me.” I scooped her up into my arms and carried
her to the door, my feet momentarily getting wrapped up in the pile
of her wet clothes.

When we got to the doorway, she shouted.
“Carson, stop! The bath!”

“Shit.” I turned around just as the water
crested the edge of the tub and poured down the sides. I looked at
the woman in my arms with regret for another second before cursing,
putting her down, and running to turn off the faucet.

“Okay, where were we?” Just about to get to
the good stuff.

“We need to clean up all the water.”

“No. No, we—” Yeah, we did.
Fuck
.

Instead of doing what we
should’ve
been doing, we spent the rest of the evening sponging water off the
floor, making sure it hadn’t gone down into the apartment below
mine, and doing all sorts of other shit I didn’t want to do.

And then my time ran out. “I need to leave
for the airport.” Yet another episode of my mother ruining my life.
I’d put off the trip as long as possible and booked the last flight
of the day. I would’ve blown it off completely if the trip was just
to spend time with Renee. But I also had to talk to a few of the
Foundation’s board members to discuss my fuck-up in the bar.

“Don’t worry about the water, Lane, we got
most of it. The rest will dry eventually.”

“I want to use the tub.” She was on her hands
and knees using a towel to mop up the last of the water, wearing a
t-shirt I’d loaned her until her stuff dried. “And I don’t want you
to be able to blame the water damage on
my
bath instead of
your distractibility.”

How the fuck did she expect me not to be
distracted? It would be so easy to get on my knees behind her and
forget all about taking things slowly.

I was so tempted to ask her to come to L.A.
with me. While I was talking to people I disliked, she could visit
her parents in San Diego, as long as she was back in the hotel room
and naked by the time I escaped. But unfortunately, Lane had work
to do and her own life to live. Not to mention that going out of
town together was way over the “This is getting serious” limit.

“Come here.” I fucking loved that she did it
without question. Everything masculine and alpha in me eating it
up. It wasn’t a big deal, but it was a sign of trust, and that’s
why we were doing this, right? I grabbed her and kissed her for a
good couple of minutes—too long and not long enough.

“I’m going to fantasize about you in that tub
for a week, and we’re going to revisit this as soon as I get
back.”

A shadow of fear passed over her face.

“Stop thinking,” I grumbled. “That’s the kind
of shit that gets you in trouble.” And the kind of thing that would
make me have to back off, which I didn’t want to do.

“I’m going to revisit these, too,” I said,
taking one last taste of her lips. We could have a good thing
together, a really good thing. Something I’d never tried before
because I’d never had anyone I liked enough to try it with. But
only if she played by the rules—no attachment, no expectations, no
commitment, no feelings.

I hoped she could do it.

She pushed on my chest to separate us. “Go
away, or you’re going to miss your flight.”

“Yeah, okay.” I kissed her again because I
couldn’t stop myself.

“Go away.” She shoved me backwards,
laughing.

“I’ll see you soon, beautiful.” One last
kiss—a small one—and then I was out of there.

Oh fuck. Maybe she wasn’t the one I should be
worried about.

I stayed at Carson’s place a lot more than I
should have. Being there was like a vacation—no roommate, an
incredible bathtub, and total quiet.

He didn’t call but he texted dirty messages a
few times, begging me to take pictures of myself in the tub. So he
could make sure I hadn’t broken it. No pictures were taken but
there was a message returned, letting him know just how well I was
taking care of his tub. The new soap I’d bought made bubbles that
wouldn’t ruin the jets, so the bath and I were both very, very
clean.

His response came in multiple texts over the
next hour, as if he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The first was, ‘Stop torturing me.’

The second—‘Keep torturing me. Tell me you’ve
been touching yourself in my bathtub. If you haven’t, do it
immediately and get back to me.’

The third—‘There better be enough soap left
when I get back because you and I are going to get
really
dirty.’

And the fourth—‘You know I’m kidding and not
kidding, right?’

I did. That was the best part of all. He was
a massive flirt who would back it up the second he could, but who
somehow knew that if he pushed me too hard into something I wasn’t
ready for, we’d both lose.

I held the phone between my shoulder and my
ear while I flicked the lights off and locked up my shop. It was
just starting to get dark, the time I’d normally have gone to the
café to see Carson. Normally? I wasn’t sure how much normal there
was in this situation.

“When are you coming back?” God help me, I
missed him.

“I wish I didn’t have to say Saturday, but I
do.”

So I had a few more days before he got back
to town and wouldn’t have 24/7 access to his bathtub anymore. Not
that he would say no if I even hinted at it, especially because I’d
be naked.

“Unless some kind of divine intervention
happens and Renee’s fiancé calls the wedding off. Maybe he’ll
finally realize she’s been lying to him about being a decent
person. Or found someone who was with him for a healthy
reason.”

“What do you mean by healthy?”

“How the fuck should I know?” he said,
laughing. “The only reason I’ve ever been with anyone is sex.
Although, if you’re doing it right, sex is exercise, and exercise
is healthy. So I guess that means I’m a health nut. You and I
should start exercising together.”

“I don’t think that’s what they mean.”

“I was kidding. Not about sex being healthy—I
totally believe that. But about sex being the only reason I’d ever
be with anyone. Look at you and me.”

“Right. The only reason you’re with me is
because you
want
to have sex with me.”

“Come on, you know that’s not true.” His
voice changed—got lower, more serious.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m with you because I want to have a
lot
of sex with you.”

“Should’ve seen that one coming.” The
pedestrians I passed looked at me oddly because I’d rolled my eyes
so dramatically.

“Until then, I guess I’ll have to enjoy your
company,” he grumbled. “You’ll let me know when I don’t have to do
that anymore though, right?”

“You’ll be the first person I tell,
promise.”

The volume of his voice dropped again. “It
would be a mistake, you know.”

“What would?”

“To fall for me.”

“I’m not.” I didn’t want to, either. What I
wanted was to understand him and to know that he trusted me enough
to feel like he could tell me anything. Because I was pretty sure
he didn’t have anyone else he could tell.

“The only thing I love about you is your
bathtub. But just out of curiosity, why do you think it would be
such a mistake?”

“Because I can’t give that back to you. It
would have to end, and you’d be worse off than before we met. That
would be my fault. I wasn’t kidding about being a selfish bastard.
If I wasn’t one, I would tell you to walk away.”

“And then I would say, ‘Why don’t you go fuck
yourself because I don’t want to go away?’”

The smile was back in his tone. “At which
point I would probably say, ‘Since, unfortunately, it’s not
physically possible to fuck myself, why don’t I fuck you
instead?’”

“And I would say, ‘Okay.’”

“What?” he said on an inhalation. The kind of
inhalation I was having trouble doing. I’d surprised myself as much
as him by saying it, but I didn’t want to take it back. I was more
comfortable with him than I’d ever been with anyone, probably in my
entire life. All the worry and fear I’d always felt while I was
with a guy wasn’t there because I knew Carson wouldn’t judge me. He
knew who I was better than anyone and he liked me anyway.

“Say it again, Lane.”

“Okay.” Because it
was
okay, and I
wasn’t afraid. Carson wouldn’t let me be afraid. It had nothing to
do with love—it was better than that. He would protect me, even
from myself, because that’s who he was, whether he admitted it or
not. He would help me deal with this just like he’d helped me deal
with everything leading up to this—with a joke, a stupid comment,
or just by listening.

“Seriously?” It was whispered.

“Seriously.”

“Damn it,” he whined at full volume. “You
couldn’t have waited to tell me that? I’m stuck here for a few more
days, and I’m going to be hard the whole time.”

I laughed. “Flattering, but I’m not that
irresistible.”

“Pretty damn close. Listen, I gotta go. But…
I don’t want you to regret anything. So until I’m inside you,
you’re allowed to change your mind. Even after I’m inside you,
you’re allowed, although you might have to use small words and lots
of hand gestures to get me to focus.”

After he’s inside me.
That was going
to be playing on repeat in my mind for a while.

“Think about it, but don’t overthink it,
until I get back,” he said. “In the three longest days of my life
from now.”

Over the next two days, thinking about him
and what was going to happen took more of my time than anything
else. I’d made a commitment, but only to sex. Does that qualify as
a commitment?

The night before he was supposed to come
back, I went to his place after work and took a long bath. So long
that it was dark by the time I got out, so I decided to crash at
his place instead of walking home.

He had lots of extra rooms, but none of them
were set up as a guest room, an absence that screamed ‘don’t get
too comfortable here ’cause you won’t be staying long.’

I could’ve slept on the couch. But I
didn’t.

Instead, I climbed into his gigantic bed,
trying not to think too hard about why I wanted to try it out,
ignoring my body’s Pavlovian reaction to being there. He’d told me
that when he slept without sleeping with someone, he went to her
place so he could go home afterwards. Because he can’t sleep with
anyone in his bed, so this might be my only chance to spend an
entire night with his scent surrounding me.

He’d probably be fine with me crashing
here—Carson wasn’t attached to things or territory, or people for
that matter. The worst and inevitable thing that would happen is
he’d tease me about it. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him at all and just
make sure his bed looked exactly the same as he’d left it. I’d have
to give myself plenty of time to get it to look that chaotic.

I woke up when the bed dipped and someone got
under the covers.

“Go back to sleep,” Carson whispered.

It was absolutely idiotic for me to be
sleeping here, but I
had
and he’d caught me. I didn’t turn
around. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Neither are you.”

“I...”

“I don’t mind. Actually, it’s kind of nice to
find a beautiful woman in my bed after going a whole week without
seeing her.”

As great as he was for my ego, I wasn’t
supposed to sleep over. That was a rule from the first conversation
we’d had.

I slid to the side of the bed, slower than
normal because I still wasn’t fully awake. “I’m gonna—”

“Stay.” His hand was hot on my skin as he
slipped it around my waist and dragged me backwards into him.

At least I was wearing a tank top and
underwear because it would be all
sorts
of weird if he found
me naked in his bed when he wasn’t supposed to be home yet. I knew
he was wearing something but it didn’t blunt the feel of his
erection pressing against my ass.

I was just as stiff, beyond uncomfortable and
embarrassed, so I tried scooting away. He didn’t let me. “Carson,
I—”

“I’m not going to step out of line, okay? It
doesn’t mean anything other than you feel really good next to me.
I’ll calm down eventually.” After mumbling something I couldn’t
understand, his hand moved down my side, his touch light. When he
reached my hipbone, he curled his fingers around it and used it to
pull me closer. My back arched at the same moment, pressing my ass
harder against him.

“Unless you keep doing that.”

Then he stopped speaking and the only sound
was the occasional deep sigh or a whimper I couldn’t stifle. Every
time I felt his lips touch my shoulder, my neck, that spot just
behind my ear that sent a sharp bolt of delicious directly to my
core, breathing got more difficult.