Poser (10 page)

“But those parts of you only surface when you feel like you have something or someone to
protect
. You don’t use those qualities against people, Braeden. You don’t use them to tear people down. You use them to guard people you love.”

She made me sound like some comic book character.

“I’m no hero, Ivy.”

“No, you aren’t. You drink bad wine, cuss too much, and let very few people in.”

“A guy gets one bad bottle of wine…” I muttered. “And he never lives it down.”

“You’re real. You have real feelings, real emotions, and the things you do reflect that. I’d take you over a hero any day. Even Spider-Man.”

I made a scoffing sound. “Superman would kick Spidey’s ass.”

She gasped. “Bad wine and bad taste in superheroes? You’re just pushing it now.”

I laughed. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I’ll regret not talking to him before he dies. Mom says I will. She thinks I need closure.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Talking to him doesn’t mean forgiving him,” she pointed out.

Such a simple statement, but it held so much power.

“No?”

She shook her head. “You do it for you. Not for him. Maybe just telling him you can’t accept what he did all those years ago will help you close that door.”

Maybe she was right.

All this time, I was thinking if I talked to my father, it would be because he asked me to. I never thought about it being something I would do for myself.

And yeah, maybe that’s what Mom was trying to say all those times she urged me call him. But she was too close to the situation. Maybe this was something I needed to hear from someone else, like Ivy.

“I’m gonna tuck that right in here.” I tapped on my head. “Think on it some.”

She looked insanely pleased with herself. I pulled the cup out of her lap and tossed it over the side to join mine. “Talking’s over.”

Gently, I pushed her back against the pillows and leaned into her.

“Tell me yes, Ivy,” I intoned, hovering my lips mere centimeters above hers.

“Yes,” she whispered.

It was all I needed to hear.

Ivy

His need seemed urgent.

His hands were anything but.

I was pressed into the pillows, cushioning my body like they were made just for me. Slowly he kissed me, dragging his mouth down the side of my neck and latching onto that sweet spot, the one that always made me shiver.

I didn’t even think about the sounds I made as he licked and sucked because I was too caught up in the feel of his mouth.

When at last he continued down along my collarbone to nip at my shoulder, my fingers were digging into his flesh, impatiently demanding more.

He chuckled and pulled back, taking his weight off mine and reaching for each blanket, peeling away the layers one by one with aching tenderness, like he was unwrapping a gift.

When I was lying there with nothing covering me, he pulled my hand so I could sit up. With ease, my tank top was lifted off my body and tossed aside. My bra joined the fabric, and the cool night air brushed against my bare skin.

If my nipples weren’t already hard, they would have puckered instantly.

B pushed me back down and fastened his lips around one of my breasts. He didn’t go directly for the bud in the center. Instead, he sucked and kneaded the flesh around it.

My back arched, lifting myself up and offering him even greater access. One hand cupped the fullness to hold it in place so he could assault it even more with slow and gratifying kisses.

Only when I started to shake did he suck the nipple deep into his mouth.

I moaned loudly, and he repeated the action.

I reached for him. My fingers met shirt and not skin.

I tugged at the fabric because it was in the way. He left my breast long enough to rip the shirt over his head and toss it aside. Then he was back, lavishing the same amount of unhurried attention on the other breast.

I spread my legs so he could settle between my thighs. Both of us were still wearing jeans, but I wrapped my legs around him anyway as his lips trailed down my stomach and around my navel.

The button on my jeans gave way easily, and he dipped his fingertips in the waistband, delving beneath my panties.

I gasped at just the skin-on-skin contact and looked up at the night sky.

Soon, I was completely naked, nothing but the soft blanket at my back. Braeden knelt between my legs and stared down at me. I couldn’t make out his expression in the dark, but the way he touched me said it all.

I’d never had anyone be so attentive, so tender and gentle.

I gave myself to him totally, offering him almost anything he could want. But he never took advantage of me. When I sat up to reach for him, he sank down and mumbled incoherent words that only urged me on.

He liked when I dragged my nails up the inside of his thigh.

He liked when I nipped at the spot just below his ear.

He especially liked when I took him deep into my throat and lightly pinched his nipple at the same time.

I kissed and sucked until he swore and gently lifted me aside. I reached for his cock, wanting to guide it toward my entrance, but he shook his head.

“Not yet,” he murmured and lowered his mouth to my inner thigh.

He licked upward, almost to my most private place, but then he drew back.

I gasped.

“Is this okay, baby? Can I touch you here?”

“If you don’t, I’ll cry.”

He laughed, the sound hoarse. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I’m never gonna want you to stop.”

He used two fingers and slid them inside my opening. My knees fell open and a sigh took over my body. As his fingers worked, he sucked gently at the already swollen bud.

When his tongue started lapping and his fingers moved a little faster, I gasped and arched up. He paused, and I urged him on. Seconds after he started up again, I splintered into a thousand pieces. It was like Fourth of July inside my body; everything exploded into a finale of lights.

I was still floating from the pleasure when he came over me. I felt his insistent length at my opening, and I sighed and tilted closer.

With a groan, he slid inside me.

Both of us cried out. Braeden’s body went rigid.

“Fuck,” he whispered into my ear. “You’re so warm and slick.”

In response, I tightened my walls around him, flexing against his cock. He made a sputtering sound and then slid out, only to delve right back in.

It felt so good. It felt so right.

I clutched him against me and swiveled my hips. “You feel incredible,” I murmured.

He pumped his hips again, his eyes going wide. He propped himself up on his hands and stared down at me.

“Shit,” he ground out, like speaking was hard. “I forgot to wrap it.”

That explained why this time felt a little different, a little more raw.

“It’s okay,” I said as he pulled out. I could tell he was upset. “I’m not mad. I’m on the pill.”

“It’s not okay,” he spat, sitting back and reaching for his jeans. “I got so caught up in you that I freaking forgot a condom.”

I sat up and pressed my hand to his lower back. “I’ve been tested. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

He laughed.

He actually threw back his head and laughed.

“What?” I grumbled. Some of the sex-induced bliss I was feeling floated away.

He turned back with a condom clutched in his fist. “I know you’re clean, baby. I don’t care about me. I care about you. About respecting you.”

“But I’m not upset.”

“I know you aren’t, and I love the shit out of you for it. But when we go bareback, I want it to be something you agree to when you aren’t under the spell of my touch.”

I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic, but he stopped me. His hand flattened on my shoulder and pushed me back down. “Now, baby,” he cajoled. “I’m just as deep under your spell too. It’s the reason I forgot.”

He ripped open the foil packet and slid it down over his still-rigid length.

“Have you done that with lots of girls?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Braeden lowered himself so the front of our bodies touched completely. He brushed the hair away from my face and kissed me. “Never.”

My eyes popped open.

He nodded. Before I could say anything else, he kissed me at the very same moment his length slid home.

Braeden was so gentle. He was so thoughtful. It almost seemed the longer we were together, the more careful he became.

I’d always thought maybe it was the other way around. That a guy would be more careful in the beginning until he really got to know a girl.

The thought didn’t last very long because pleasure took over all thought. Only after, when I was tucked into his side, securely in his arms, did I think about the way he always asked my permission, how he was never rough, and how he spoke about always wanting to respect me.

He loved me. Irrevocably.

But was there something more?

Braeden

“Can I ask you something?”

That question was pretty much the kiss of death for a guy. There was no good conversation that began with those words.

But if I said no, all hell would break loose.

If I said yes, then I’d have to think very, very carefully about whatever answer I needed to give.

There was also another factor here: the after sex fog.

It was a real thing. Oh boy, was it ever. Ask any man and he’ll agree. See, there’s a window of time in the minutes after a man has awesome fucking sex that he’s at his most vulnerable.

A time when his body is in a relaxed, blissful state. One might compare it to being high, just not the chemically induced kind. The orgasm kind. It’s during this window when a man is so satisfied he doesn’t think before he responds.

Well, that and he’s pretty fucking pleased with the woman in his arms.

I was currently suffering from ASF. My brain didn’t even warn me I was stepping into dangerous territory.

“Hmmm?” I answered, dragging my fingertips up the length of her spine.

Ivy moved slightly and the blond strands of her hair tickled my bare chest. “You’re always very gentle with me.”

“Precious things should be handled gently.”

And that is
exactly
what I’m talking about. I, Braeden J. Walker, was no good with words. But those were some mighty pretty ones. I would get the credit for saying them; however, those words weren’t courtesy of me.

It was the after sex fog.

I meant them. No truer words had been spoken. But if I’d been in my right mind, I wouldn’t have been able to say such a thing so eloquently.

“Is that all it is?” she asked.

Something inside me shouted a warning.

“Wait,” I said, sitting up slightly to lean against the bulkhead. “What are we talking about right now?”

Ivy flattened her palm over my chest and propped her chin on top. “The first couple times we had sex felt a little different.”

The fog blew away. Like it literally disappeared. “Are you saying you aren’t satisfied… in bed?” I had to practically croak out the words. It was blasphemy! I was a
legend
in bed.

Ivy’s gorgeous cerulean eyes widened and she sat up with a gasp. “No!” The tops of her porcelain cheeks turned bright pink, and she tugged the blanket up around her bare skin.

I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against my chest. “Tell me you like my cock.”

A laugh bubbled out of her chest. “I am not saying that.”

“Why the hell not?” I demanded.

Ivy stretched up and kissed the corner of my mouth. “You’re the best I’ve ever had, Braeden. I didn’t even know it could feel like this between two people.”

I studied her.

A slow smile split her lips. It made me want to kiss her.

But I had to stand firm.

Giggling, she pushed away and sat crossed-legged at my side. Her pinky finger appeared in front of my nose.

“Ivy.” I mock-gasped and pressed a hand to my chest. “
No
, I will
not
pull your finger.”

She hit me in the head with a pillow as I guffawed.

“Pinky swear!” she demanded once I chucked the pillow away.

A pinky swear to girls was the equivalent of a fist bump for guys. I couldn’t leave my girl hanging, so I wrapped my pinky around hers.

As she shook our hands, she vowed, “My best. My last. My only.”

If I were stranded on an island somewhere, with no food and no water, it wouldn’t matter. I could live off those words.

Pulling on our joined fingers, she fell forward and I kissed her. “I like that,” I whispered against her lips.

She was slow to sit up, but when she did, I saw the question in her eyes. “It was rougher the first couple times, more…” I watched her search for the word she wanted. “Urgent.”

So she noticed.

She noticed the
before
and
after
.

I guess I should have known this would happen. Ivy was more perceptive than people gave her credit for.

Caressing the top of her cheekbone with my thumb, I replied, “It was different, baby. There’s a difference between having sex and making love. Our first few times was sex, but everything afterward is love.”

Her eyes softened. I let out a silent breath. I made it through the questions without any injury.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re scared to touch me.”

So softly spoken yet so incredibly loud.

Just like a true battle. Just when a man thinks he’s home free and a landmine goes off.

“Ah, baby.” I pushed up and pulled her into my lap. I breathed in the scent of her hair, felt the familiar weight of her in my lap. “I’m not scared to touch you.”

I didn’t know what to say. This was a time words couldn’t fail me. She needed them; she needed reassurance. The only way I could give her that was to reach deep.

“I’ve never been in love before. You stir emotion in me I didn’t know was there. The thought of hurting you in any way makes me physically ill. I would die for you, baby. I would kill for you. I would give you the last breath in my body just to give you another heartbeat of life. Of course I’m going to be careful when I touch you. You’re basically my beating heart walking around outside my chest.”

The sheen of tears in her eyes was unmistakable. I watched with bated breath as she chewed her lower lip.

Well, shit.

Clearly, when I reached deep, that’s what I unearthed. Shit. And now she was crying.

“Don’t cry.” I spoke softly as I wiped a tear trailing over her cheek.

“I seriously love you.” The words came out in a cross between a moan and a wail. “That was so beautiful.”

She collapsed against me, and I smiled into her hair. I guess it wasn’t shit after all. Ivy sniffled, and I couldn’t stop the laugh escaping my chest.

“Don’t laugh at me!” She poked me in the ribs.

“Let me hold you,” I scolded her, even though it didn’t hurt at all.

Exhaling, she surrendered. Her breathing turned even and deep after a while. I still held her close.

Even though everything I said tonight was the truth, I hadn’t admitted it all.

I used a beautiful truth to conceal an ugly lie.

The lies weren’t getting any easier to tell.

In fact, they were getting harder.

The truth stuck there right in my throat, just waiting to be set free. I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer I was going to be able to keep it locked away.