Rose (16 page)

We’ve spent every night in each other’s arms. She no longer bothers with the pretense of going to the guest room before bed. Her nightgowns are in the drawers I cleaned out for her in my dresser. We stand side-by-side most evenings as we brush our teeth. I believe she finds comfort in our routine and the ease with which we co-exist. That’s not to say you couldn’t cut the sexual tension between us with a knife, but even that has become a familiar part of our lives. I’ve been afraid of initiating sex for fear it would change that dynamic.

Thus far, I haven’t learned anything of note from the background check on Rose. A few nights after she came home from the hospital, she became restless in her sleep. She was crying when she awoke. I rocked her gently in my arms as she told me hesitantly about the same dream she’d mentioned to Lucian. I was more convinced than ever that she’s blocked out something that happened to her years ago. Either that or she was too young to understand it properly. I am meeting with a new investigator tomorrow who comes highly recommended by Lee Jacks. Lucian had reached out to his father-in-law when we’d been unable to find any further information on our own. I’m going to find out what’s haunting my woman’s dreams. But tonight, I plan to give her something new to fill her sleeping hours.

“Bad news,” I hear from behind me. Turning, I see Rose standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a rueful smile tugging at her full lips.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” I ask, thinking it can’t be too bad if she looks this relaxed.

She moves into the room, never breaking eye contact as her fingers go to the first button on her blouse. She has my attention now that’s for damn sure. I’m struggling to keep my eyes from dropping to her chest as another inch of creamy skin is revealed. Fuck it, I’m just a man. There’s no way I can take the high road when tits are involved. She shrugs her slim shoulders causing her breasts to jiggle. I growl like an animal, barely hearing her when she says, “It appears I’ve ruined our meal yet again. I can change clothing if you want to go out to eat. Or we could call—”

“I’m not hungry … for food,” I hiss as I bridge the distance between us. I lower my hands to her hips, but let her continue to leisurely tackle the remaining buttons. I note with satisfaction that her hands aren’t quite as steady now as she fumbles with the last one. “Need some help, baby?” She shakes her head and bites her lip as she concentrates on the task at hand.

“All right,” she squeals as the thin material falls aside and her breasts—in a lacy pushup bra that barely contains them—are revealed. She seems to have forgotten for a moment in her excitement that she’s partially naked. I remedy that when my hands come up to pull her bra down and expose her strawberry-tipped nipples. The cold air has the peaks instantly puckering and begging for my attention. “Max …” she groans as I lower my head to lick and suck one tip into my mouth.

I’m not certain who makes the first move, but we’re suddenly a tangle of limbs on my bed. Instead of the hours of leisurely lovemaking I’d imagined, we’re both grabbing wildly at each other’s clothing. Within moments, we’re naked and her hand is on my cock. I’m mere moments away from blowing my load, and that’s not how I want our first time to go. I need to slow the momentum or we’ll be sitting in the kitchen having dinner within the next ten minutes and Rose will inform Lia tomorrow that I’m the sixty-second man. Hell no, that’s not happening. There’s plenty of time for quickies later. Tonight, I’ll taste the exquisite pussy that I’ve fantasized about for months. I put my hand over hers, grinding my hips against it for a second before pulling away.

“Lay back and spread your legs, sweetheart.” When she remains on her knees staring at my cock as if she’s going to weep if she doesn’t have it, I straighten my back. This may not have been the best idea since it causes my hard length to bob around like a circus act. “Now, Rose!” I snap, finally jarring her into action.

The sight of her pink pussy glistening with her arousal has me closing my eyes and singing “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer” in my head. “Fuck me, Max,” she begs huskily, and I fear I’m going to have a stroke. This is like being in a porn movie: Beautiful girl with an amazing body, begging me to fuck her.
Ninety bottles of beer on the wall …
I gingerly settle onto my stomach, feeling my cock trying to drill a hole into the mattress. I toss her legs over my shoulders. She stiffens under me and tries to bring her thighs together. “No. Please not that,” she begs, sounding so different from the passionate woman of moments before.

Then it hits me. She doesn’t want me to see her scars. Her hands are attempting to cover the soft skin there as she pulls against my hold on her. “Stop, baby,” I whisper. I could release her now and move on to another area of her body, but something tells me that isn’t what she really needs. That will only confirm
her
fears that I find her imperfections ugly and that’s far from the truth. It pains me to see the evidence of how long and hard she’s been crying out for help, with no one listening. The marks are a part of who she is and every one of them tells the story of Rose Madden. Do I hope that another angry red line never mars her body? Absolutely. But I’m in no way repulsed by the ones that do. It’s how she has coped with a world that prizes perfection above all else. She’s begging to be accepted for the person beneath the public face. And I see her. The beautifully imperfect woman who’s spent her life feeling as if she was never good enough for the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally.

I nudge her hands aside and begin dropping kisses onto the puckered flesh. A sob catches in her throat as her movements still. “Max,” she breathes as my lips attempt to soothe away the hurt she’s endured both inside and out. Her hands fall away from her legs and sink into my hair. I seek out and worship each blemish until I reach the one from just a few weeks ago that could have taken her away from me. The area is still a pink pucker, but it’s healing quickly.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” I murmur against the sensitive flesh there as I tenderly attempt to stroke away the anguish she was feeling the night she hurt herself. The ugly words spoken in that bathroom crushed her so much that she wanted nothing but to flee from it all. “Never think for one single second that I don’t adore every inch of this body.” I feel her shaking and know that her emotions are close to the surface, so I decide that now is the time to show her exactly what I’ve been longing for night after night as she slept in my bed.

My head shifts and I’ve overcome by her scent. A mixture of fucking candy and exotic spices. Unable to help myself, my tongue slips into her folds and I lick her slick cunt. Her hips bow up, and I put my arm over them, bringing her back down onto the bed. “Oh my—sweet, shit!” she yells, and I can’t help but grin at her choice of words.
Sweet shit? Yeah, that’s a first, but I’ll take it.
I suck her swollen clit into my mouth and give it a hard pull as I insert a finger into her wet heat. Her walls are quaking as I alternate fucking her with my mouth and hand. Even though I’m hard enough to cut stone, I’m still almost disappointed when she comes two times in quick succession.
How have I deprived myself of this for so fucking long? Her passion. Her sexual appetite. Her taste.
Her pussy is addictive, and I could eat it all day. Her hands that had been pushing me into her slit are now pulling me almost painfully away. “I want you inside,” she gasps out. “Your tongue is killing me.”

I laugh as I move up onto my knees before lowering my body down over hers and kissing her softly. I rub my cock against her opening as I grin down at her. “And what exactly do you think my dick is, sweetheart? A walk in the park on Sunday? I’m going to spank this pretty little pussy with it then fuck you until you scream.”

As I reach over to grab a condom from the bedside drawer, the little devil bites me on the chin. “You’re a lot dirtier in bed than I thought you would be, counselor. Your mouth is downright filthy, and I’m kinda digging it,” she purrs.

I smirk in answer as I roll the condom on and decide on a surprise attack. I’m a big boy and I know it. It’s probably an asshole move, but I know she’s wet enough to take me with possibly only a bite of pain. So I sink into her, bottoming out against her cervix. Her scream fills the room, which might concern me if it weren’t followed almost immediately by a moan of pleasure. Her legs come up around my hips, pushing me even deeper.
Eighty bottles of beer on the wall—fuck … or is it seventy?
I’ve never been with a woman who seems to love my cock as much as she does. She meets me thrust for thrust, almost chasing my dick down and impaling herself onto it. I’m fast seeing stars and close to severing my tongue as I attempt to hold back. “Come for me, baby, milk me dry,” I beg as we race to the finish. I circle my hips, dragging my root across her clit and feel her detonate under me. My balls tighten and my spine tingles as I pulse a few more times before being taken away by an orgasm that goes on and on. My toes are curling and my ears are roaring as I pull Rose with me and roll to the side—careful to keep our bodies joined. So long. It’s been so long, and she’s so tight and warm. I do not want to leave her body. My heart is beating overtime, and I’m still seeing stars. Fuck. Me. I knew she was sensual, but holy shit. Finally having her …. At this point, I’d normally be ready to put some distance between my bed partner and me. Say a few nice words then cleanup and move on. But the urge isn’t there tonight. I’m in the mood to fucking cuddle, which should be scaring the hell out of me. I haven’t done the post-coital snuggle in years—not since Melly died.

Rose melts another piece of ice from my heart as she drops a soft kiss on my chest. “That was …” she begins, and then appears at a loss for words.

“Some sweet shit?” I offer helpfully, and then grunt as she pokes one of her surprisingly bony fingers into my side.

“You’re not supposed to judge the words someone says during sex. Your brain can only go in so many directions,” she huffs out adorably. “I knew the minute that left my mouth, you were probably laughing your ass off. I don’t even know where it came from.”

I pull her closer to me; I know we’ll have to separate soon, but I want to stay in the moment for as long as possible. A new day is only hours away, but for now, I want to relish feeling like the man I used to be. Before life took away my ability to love. I never thought I’d get that back, but is that where I am headed with Rose? It’s only been since her that I’ve felt this … sense of hope, despite how messed up that must seem. It’s her. Love? I think I want that. If only the days ahead could be as peaceful as this moment. But I know with a sense of foreboding that our struggles have just begun.

“
Y
ou look different today
,” Dr. Chase—or Joanna, as she prefers to be called—says as she twirls a pen in her hand. The woman is entirely too perceptive. I could utter just a few words, and she is able to put a picture together that is too close for comfort at times. I can see why Lucian likes her, though. Her casual form of therapy is surprisingly relaxing. Sure, we’ve had some tough conversations, but I always feel better afterward. I’ve come to think of her as the type of mother figure I always wanted. I’d never confided in either of my parents. They didn’t want to hear about school, boys, or arguments with friends. To them, I left home to get an education and anything else was a silly waste of time. Unless it was an affiliation beneficial to furthering their social connections.

I try but am unable to completely keep a smile from my face. I suspect I’m blushing as well but hope she won’t notice in the dim lamplight that she favors. “I’m enjoying being back at work,” I reply evasively and know there’s no way she’ll let it go at that. The woman is a human bloodhound.

She props her legs farther under her, displaying wacky knee socks that make me like her even more. She could give a rat’s ass about fashion. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.” She looks pleased with my news, and I think she’s actually been derailed until she says, “Have you and Max been intimate since our last session?” My mouth drops open, and she gives me a slight grin as if to say
gotcha!

“I—er … well, hell yes,” I grumble. “I fall for that every time.” Rolling my eyes, I add, “You lure me and take me down.”

Not offended in the least, she laughs and props her head in her hand. “It’s my superpower.” She fixes me with one of her intent stares and asks, “So how was it?” When I lift a brow, she clarifies, “I mean, were you comfortable with the aftermath? Sex can bring forth some intense emotions, especially when you have feelings for the other person.”

I know that Joanna has been wary of Max and I having relations for fear that any problems between us might cause me to cut again. After all, it’s only been a few weeks since my last time, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t had the urge. Overall, I’m coping, but I also realize I haven’t been truly tested yet. Other than a few stilted emails, my parents have avoided me since I got home from the hospital, and Max has been there every step of the way to keep me from dwelling on anything for very long. I know I can’t remain in this bubble forever, though, and that eventually, a stressor may come along and shake my strength. “It was amazing,” I say truthfully. “I feel closer to him now, and he seems to feel the same. He’s been more affectionate, even before we had sex. This morning we—you know, did it again and it was slower—almost loving.”

“You seem surprised by that,” she astutely muses. “You’ve indicated before that he’s protective of you, but he appears to have something holding him back. Do you still feel that way?”

“To a degree,” I admit. “But it’s better than it was. As I said, he’s opening up more. We’re comfortable around each other and he kept touching me as we were getting ready and having breakfast together this morning.”

“So why don’t you ask him about his past?” she asks, sounding curious. “Are you afraid he won’t talk to you about it or is it something else?”

I run a hand through my hair, trying to gather my thoughts. I’m not sure why this question is hard, but then it hits me and I feel a moment’s panic. “I’m scared it will change things between us. What if he can never love me? Right now, I have hope that it will work out, but what if it’s taken away from me?”

“That’s everyone’s fear in a relationship, Rose,” she says gently. “To open yourself up to love is also to expose yourself to the possibility of loss. Unfortunately, you’re only living half a life without the risk.”

“But isn’t the reward worth it when it works out?” I ask, hesitantly. A woman my age shouldn’t be so damn uncertain of a man, but I can’t help it. I’ve never felt for anyone the way I do for Max. “Damn, you’re right. We probably shouldn’t have slept together.”

“Then why did you?” she asks, looking at me intently.

I blurt it out, knowing she can handle the truth. “Because I was horny and I’m also in love with him. The first was a very pressing need, and the second just made it that much better.” I’m surprised at how easily I’ve revealed the depth of my feelings for Max to Joanna. But there is just something about talking to someone who isn’t a part of our group. It’s almost as if I want to see her reaction before I tell the rest of the world.

Never one to be rattled by my off-color comments, she points her pen at me and says, “And there you have it, my friend. The two things that will make us go out onto a limb every time—love and lust. No one is immune to the power they hold, and it’s probably one of the best parts of that new relationship glow.” Then she reaches over and clasps one of my hands. “Enjoy this time, Rose, and take each moment as it comes. Continue to communicate with Max and be open about what you’re feeling. If you get overwhelmed or uncertain, then tell him. He’s your partner, not someone you need to protect. From what you’ve told me about him, he wants to be there for you, and as daunting as it may sound, you need to accept that and let him. Love and lust are wonderful, but trust is what will move you forward and give you the building blocks for a lasting foundation.” We spend the rest of the hour discussing my parents and also the dream I’d had off and on since childhood. As usual, when I leave, I’m exhausted while also feeling lighter. It’s not easy to reveal so many personal things, and at times, I want to resist. But at least I feel as if I’m beginning to face my problems instead of hiding from them. There’s a sense of the elusive control I’ve struggled to have for so many years. Could it have been as simple as letting someone in?

I take a cab back to the office. Lucian has insisted on loaning me a company car from Quinn Software until I’m able to afford something of my own. Someone is supposed to drop it by this afternoon. Strangely enough, Max hadn’t been too happy over it. He’d grumbled under his breath that he’d been planning to get me one. But I’d rather borrow one than let Max spend any more money on me. I’m not used to being the charity case in the group and it’s unsettling. I refused to accept Lia’s offer to pay me for the time I’d been off work. That was more of a handout than I could handle. At this rate, it’s already going to be months before I can pay Max back. And I know that’s going to be a fight. He’s made it clear that he does not intend to take my money. I don’t think he understands how important it is to me to feel as if I’m standing on my own two feet. Even if it takes me a while to do that without stumbling.

I pull my phone from my purse to check in with Max. He’s always concerned after one of my therapy sessions, and I want to send him a quick text to let him know that I survived. I go warm and mushy when I see a message already waiting from him.

Hey baby, thinking of you and hoping you had a good meeting with Joanna. Miss you.

I startle the cab driver when I throw my head back and begin laughing. Max Decker, normally reserved counselor extraordinaire, used a heart emoticon at the end of his text … and it’s about the sweetest thing ever. I hit the reply button and quickly type a response.

Everything went great. Miss you too. Can’t wait to be home.

I then add an emoticon of a kitten blowing kisses. It’s hard to believe that I’m doing something so normal with him. If he brings out the best in me, then I hope I do the same for him.

As giddy as I am, the fear is still there. I’ve opened myself to Max in a way that I never did with Jake. I’m terrified that, at some point, I’ll disappoint him, and he’ll realize that underneath it all, I’m just too big of a mess to deal with. I shake off the negative thoughts as soon as they come. I refuse to do that—to keep buying in to the shit my parents shoveled at me for years. At this point, they’re barely even a part of my life anymore. It’s all on me. I’m in charge now. There may be setbacks, and some days aren’t going to be rainbows and kittens, but dammit, the alternative is unacceptable. Failure could well end up in my death, and that’s no longer a risk I’m willing to overlook.

I step out of the car in front of my office and throw my shoulders back. “One day at a time,” I say under my breath, as I take another leap into the life I want to live.

At that point, I had no idea that my new resolve would be tested so soon.

L
ucian
and I take a seat at the conference room table at Quinn Software. Before we say more than a few words, Cindy escorts in Don Ellis, the investigator Lee Jacks had recommended. I’ve had several conversations with him on the telephone, but today is our first face-to-face. To date, he’s been terse yet professional, and as Lucian and I rise to our feet and introductions are made, I feel a little in awe. I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of this man.

Don pulls an iPad from his briefcase, and I have to smile at how things have changed. It seems as if handwritten notes are no longer the norm. I rather miss it sometimes. Although considering my vast collection of electronics, I don’t think I’d be willing to go back again. He scrolls through the screen before setting it down on the table and clearing his throat. “I found nothing unusual on Ms. Madden’s background check.” I feel a sense of something like disappointment. “But then I enhanced the search to include her family and things got a little interesting.”

When he pauses as if to gauge our reaction, Lucian waves an insistent hand and asks impatiently, “Are you going to continue, or are we supposed to guess?”

Instead of being offended at Lucian’s bluntness, Don smirks, which should have told me something big was coming. “There’s no record of Celia Madden having given birth—ever.”

I process his words before rubbing my neck to ease the tension building there. “So you’re saying that Rose was adopted?”

Don leans back in his chair and crosses his legs before shaking his head. “No. See, that’s the interesting part. I can’t find any record of that either, and believe me, I’ve been through every database there is—twice.”

“But isn’t that type of information sealed?” Lucian asks.

Don raises a brow as if to say,
Come on.
“I have ways around that. There is nothing sealed or otherwise to show that Rose Madden was adopted. Essentially, she has a birth certificate with nothing at all to back it up. That in itself is more common than you would think, but generally, there’s something criminal involved. Everyone has an origin, and if it’s being hidden, there’s a reason. I vaguely recall a case that we studied while I was in school at Stanford Law. It’s been a while since I’ve delved into family law, but I do recall very strict punishment.”

I’m grasping at straws, but I toss it out there anyway. “That’s probably not something that most people ever have checked. Maybe it’s a clerical error somewhere.”

“It’s not,” Don says flatly. “Her birth certificate is worth the paper it’s written on and that’s it. It looks completely normal until you research it and find that there are no actual records to support her birth occurring.”

Lucian tosses the pen he’s been holding on the table in frustration. “I knew there was something there. Maybe it’s time we confronted her parents. They’re a bunch of pretentious assholes, but I didn’t actually think they were criminals.”

Don holds a hand out hastily. “Don’t do that yet. If you tip them off, they’ll muddy the trail as much as they can. Right now, it’s been years since Rose’s birth, and I would imagine they’ve relaxed their guard. It’ll be easier to dig without them being suspicious.”

“Do you have any clues as to what we’re looking for?” I ask, still reeling from his news.

“I’ve been running checks into their household staff, going all the way back to when Celia would have supposedly been pregnant. I wanted to see if I could find anyone who might be willing to talk to me. In doing so, I’ve come across Carl and Patricia Wheeten, a husband and wife who worked for the Maddens for ten years. They both left right after Rose’s birth. They had a daughter who would have been fifteen at the time, Daisy Wheeten.”

Lucian shrugs his shoulder. “Okay. Do they still live locally?”

“Carl passed away a few years ago, and Patricia lives with her sister in Alabama. But Daisy’s the person I’d really like to speak with.” If he doesn’t provide more information, and soon, then I will snap. Having known Lucian for many years, I can sense his tension too. “She had a baby two days before Rose was born. And I haven’t found any record of
that
child from the time Daisy and her
daughter
left the hospital.”

“Fuck,” Lucian spits out.

The lawyer in me doesn’t believe in coincidences. “Did she name the baby Poppy?” I ask, and then hold my breath awaiting his reply.

He gives me a rueful smile. “That I don’t know. The birth certificate says Baby Wheeten.
And it was never updated. There is also no father listed. Before you ask, I’ve checked the death records as well. If the baby died, it wasn’t recorded through official channels.”