Darker Water (22 page)

“Whatever I want?” I asked.

“Whatever you want. I promise to be
gentle...unless you don’t want me to be.” He looked at me
expectantly.

“Okay.”

His expression didn’t change.

“Wait, you mean right now? You want me to do
it
now
?”

“Well…” He stepped back and held his palms
up. “I don’t have any pants on and am getting hard just imagining
what you’re going to write on that list, Lane. So, what do you
think?”

Lane kept looking up from the blank page and
glaring at me. “Stop hovering. I’ll show it to you when it’s
ready.” On the top she’d written: Candy.

Shit. I put on a pair of shorts and went
through my calendar for the week and tried to think of anything
other than all the things I fucking prayed she put on that piece of
paper. It was another brilliant idea. Maybe this much sex was
helping my cognitive abilities, too—increased blood flow or
something.

Writing things down would be a stepping stone
to just saying what she wanted. I didn’t understand why it was so
hard for her to do, but it was. If she was really going to move
past those assholes who screwed with her head for so many years and
who made all her decisions for her, then this kind of shit was
important. It was also really fucking fun.

Half an hour later, I checked on her again.
She was looking out the window, chewing on the pencil.

“You done?” I called.

“Not yet.”

Twenty minutes later I asked again.

“Almost.” Good. She was definitely writing
something.

“What number are you up to?”

“You’ll find out when I’m done. But since I’m
not done, go away.” She was probably doing it so slowly just to
drive me insane. It was working. I stared at the ceiling over my
bed for fifteen incredibly long minutes.

When she finally came into the bedroom, she
was waving the paper in the air. “If you laugh at any of them, I’m
walking out.”

“Get that fucking list and your fucking ass
over here right now.” And damn, I hoped that was on the list.

She shoved the paper at me and laid down
right next to me with bright red cheeks and eyes that were clenched
shut.

“You’re not going to read them to me?” I
pouted.

“Stop it.” She curled into my arm, hiding her
face. “I don’t want to see your expression when you read a few of
them.”

I didn’t look at the list, instead deciding
to look at her for a little longer. “You mean like number seven? Oh
dear god, Lane. Believe me, I’m smiling.” Then I groaned, trying to
keep still so she wouldn’t know how badly I wanted to laugh. “Ouch,
number four’s gonna hurt. It might even cause some permanent
damage.” My abs tightened in jerks but my voice still sounded
serious. “I’m not even sure it’s physically possible. Are you
absolutely sure you wanna try that?”

She smacked me.

When I actually looked at the list, I
realized why it had taken her so long to finish. She’d used both
sides of the paper...and her print was small. I cleared my throat
to cover how anxious I was to start reading.

Why the fuck doesn’t everybody do
this?
Hell, maybe they did...in relationships. I swallowed and
shook it off.

“Number one,” I started.

“Don’t read them out loud!”

“You wrote them and we’re both going to
do
them, so why can’t I say them out loud? Number one...” I
stopped reading and put the paper down next to me, crumpling it in
my fist. “Goddamn it, Lane.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly,
nervously.

“
That
was the first thing you thought
of?”

“Yeah.”

Damn it. Sure, when I thought of the list
idea, I knew I’d get something out of it. A lot of something. But
it wasn’t about what
I
got or what
I
wanted. It was
so Lane would finally own up to what
she
wanted and not be
embarrassed about it.

“The list is supposed to be about what
you
want,” I grumbled.

“Why can’t I want that?”

“You
can
but you don’t. You just know
I
do. I have a good memory about important shit. And one of
the very first things you ever said to me was, if I wanted to keep
my dick, that shouldn’t happen.”

“I changed my mind.”

I paused, not wanting to rush into believing
her just because I’d get what I wanted to do every time her lips
were around my cock. Of course, if she really
did
want it
and I refused because I thought I knew better than she did, that
kind of defeated the purpose of everything.

I couldn’t say I wasn’t anxious to try. But I
couldn’t get distracted until I knew for sure it was what she
wanted, too. Don’t get distracted. Right.

“You sure?” I asked.

She nodded. “Keep reading so we can get it
over with. I’m sure there are other ones you’ll freak out about.
Read them quick, then you can freak out about all of them at
once.”

I took her hand and put it on my already
hardening cock. “I’m freaking out, but in a really good way, Lane.
Okay? A really good way.” I lost track of the paper when we started
kissing, but it didn’t matter—I’d read the rest later.

“Then let’s start with number one,” she
whispered.

“Okay.” I tried not to sound as fucking eager
as I was but patience had never been my thing. I stood by the edge
of the bed and pushed the hair off her face, forming most of it
into a messy ponytail as she pulled my shorts down. “You really
sure about this?”

“Are you worried I’m going to bite you,
Carson?” Her smile disappeared when she wrapped her lips around my
cock, getting it wet.

“No.” I groaned and pushed deeper into her
mouth, trying to go slow—not too much too fast. But holy fuck was
it not easy. She reached behind her head and covered my hand with
hers, pushing herself forward to take more of me, to force my cock
deeper, all the way in, staring up at me with those big, beautiful
eyes that I could look at forever.

“I know you won’t bite me,” I said, my hips
slowly starting to take control, my hands sliding to the sides of
her face, holding her still. “I’m just worried this will kill me
and”—
oooh fuck, that feels good
—“while I’ll die a very happy
man, I’ll never get to know what else”—
breathe, need to
breathe
—“is on that list.”

But that wasn’t what I should be worried
about. What might be happening between us could be way more
dangerous.

“I’ll get it,” Anna said.

“No, you won’t. You don’t live here anymore.
Remember?” Although it felt like it occasionally. Ever since I
started hanging out with Lane, Anna was suddenly around more. I
could usually avoid her here—I wasn’t at home during the day and
she was unavailable to annoy me at night. Every time she showed up
at the office, I put her to work. She was on the board of directors
and that had some nice perks, so the least she could do was suffer
through twenty minutes of stapling or punching holes into paper.
Added bonuses: it was fucking hysterical to watch
and
she
didn’t drop by as often.

“I said I would get it, Anna.”

But she got there first. As soon as she
opened the door, she cursed. “He doesn’t want any.”

I yanked it open and saw Lane turn around to
leave. “Actually, I
do
want some.” When she didn’t stop, I
yelled her name.

“Sorry.” Her eyes were wide, darting from me
to Anna and back. “I should’ve called first.”

Oh fuck! She didn’t think Anna and I were—?
Gross. That thought hadn’t gone through my head since a few months
after Renee had married Anna’s dad. An impressive feat for a
fifteen-year-old, considering how focused I was on fucking anything
that would let me close enough.

“I’m really sorry,” Lane mumbled, her eyes
starting to fill with water.

“No,” I said, pushing Anna out of the way so
I could get to Lane. “Don’t do that.” She wasn’t supposed to care.
She
didn’t
care. So why the fuck was she about to cry if she
didn’t care? Why did I feel the need to make her feel better, to
assure her that nothing was going on with anyone but her? That I
wasn’t interested in anyone but her?

“What, these?” She wiped her eyes with the
sleeve of her shirt. “They’re not about you, don’t worry. I had a
hard day.”

Part of me thought it might be smart to let
her keep thinking Anna was an ex-lover or whatever she assumed Anna
was, to use my wicked stepsister to keep a little necessary space
between us. But I hated that she looked so uncomfortable, and I
didn’t want anything to change.

“Go home, Anna,” I said, not taking my eyes
off Lane, knowing she could bolt any second.

“No,
I’ll
go. I didn’t mean to disturb
you.”

I grabbed the collar of her jacket, yanking
her inside. “Go home, Anna.”

She huffed, her hands on her waist, until I
shot her a glare. “Fine. Call me later. After you guys are done. I
need to know what you want to do about—”

I slammed the door shut, but Lane slipped
around me and went for it. So I reached over her and put my hand on
the door to keep it closed.

“Let me go, Carson.” She was still facing the
door. “I should have called. Lesson learned. But I really want to
go now.”

“No.”

“I’m embarrassed. Okay? I’m embarrassed
because I should’ve known you might have someone over here. I
didn’t think it would be Anna, but whatever. Who you sleep with
isn’t up to me. But I want to go.”

“No.” I ran my hand up her neck, her hair
between my fingers. When I had enough of it, I curled it into my
fist and used it to turn her around. The tension kept her face
raised but her eyes wouldn’t meet mine.

“I’m not fucking Anna. The only person I’m
fucking is you and, like I told you before, when that changes I
will let you know.” I’d used the world ‘when’ on purpose. So both
of us would remember what this was and what it wasn’t. She could
see other people, too. Of course, if I was in a room with any of
them, I’d make it so that they physically couldn’t fuck her again,
but she could
see
whoever she wanted to.

“We need to clear something up.” I didn’t
know why it hadn’t dawned on me before this—it had probably been
going through Lane’s head from the first time they met. “Anna’s my
stepsister, and I’m not into that taboo crap.”

She blinked and her mouth fell open a little
before she had a chance to process.

“Renee married Anna’s dad when I was a
freshman in high school. He and Anna left when I was a junior.” And
he died a few weeks before Anna turned eighteen. Kind of
ironic—when she could finally get out of the bastard’s house, she
didn’t need to. “Now Anna uses me for money and enjoys bugging the
crap out of me whenever she can. But that’s it.”

Lane let out a big breath. “You have no idea
how happy that makes me.” That stopped me. “Every time I saw her, I
kept thinking you could find someone so much better than her.”

“I already did. And now that she’s done being
embarrassed over something she shouldn’t be embarrassed about, why
doesn’t she tell me why she’s here?”

“It’s embarrassing,” she said, finally
letting her beautiful smile come out.

I hadn’t released her hair, so I bent her
head back a bit more and kissed her. Solidifying the idea that I’d
take what I wanted and she should do the same, especially when what
she wanted was me.

When I broke the kiss, I said, “I wet the bed
until I was nine. Does whatever you’re embarrassed about top
that?”

She laughed. “Not a lot could top that. And I
can’t believe you told me that.”

“Life’s too fucking short to spend any of it
embarrassed or guilty. If you’re going to learn how to put yourself
first, you can’t keep being controlled by what other people do.”
Something in my own words shocked me, triggered something in my
brain, like a thread I couldn’t hold onto until there was more to
it.

I brushed it off—sometimes thinking was the
last thing you should be doing. “So what is it?”

“I got a huge job.” As soon as she started
talking, it’s like everything else was forgotten. She was
practically jumping. “Like, huge. It’s commissioned but she doesn’t
want furniture, she wants art. Art, Carson.
My
art. She saw
my table, I mean your table,
the
table. She saw it at the
auction and loved it. This morning, I met her at the building so we
could talk in the space where she wants them. It’s gigantic and
open and there’s a huge infinity-type pool at one end. While I was
sitting there thinking about the auction and you and the water and
everything else, I got this idea.” She either stopped to take a
breath or so I could respond.

“Are you going to tell me the idea or is it a
need-to-know kind of thing?”

“Frogs.”

“Not getting it.”

“Methods and hurt aside, each of my frogs got
me one step closer to this moment. To you. And you got me to the
job that might lead me to something even bigger. So, I’m going to
build seven driftwood tables in the rough shapes of lily pads
leading up to the infinity pool.”

“Wow, that’s…an awesome idea.”

“She thought so, too. And I’m totally
charging her too much. Just like you told me I should.”

“Congratulations. That’s great, you totally
deserve it, and it’s not too much to charge them what you’re worth.
But I missed the embarrassing part.”

“She gave me an advance to get the equipment
and supplies I’ll need, but I didn’t buy new equipment.” She
grimaced. “Well, it’s equipment but not for my shop.” Blushing, she
held up a nondescript black plastic bag. The kind of bag that only
comes from one kind of store, the
best
kind of store.