Sea Glass Sunrise (22 page)

“Actually,” she said, “I just told them earlier today. And I didn’t tell them why, just that it ended.” She hurried to explain before he could say anything, just wanting to get the rest out and change the subject. “I didn’t tell them when it happened, because it was Christmas—”

“Six months. Yeah, I guess it would have been. Well, isn’t that some—awful,” he said. She was sure he’d been about to use the kind of language she would have. “I’m sorry.”

“I was, too. But I knew Logan was going to propose to Alex over the holidays, so the last thing I was going to do was dampen their happiness with my crap, and then the crap sort of hit my professional fan, too, so I was in scramble mode. Only no amount of scrambling was going to fix that particular storm.”

“Why would your personal life affect your job? How did your firm even know about it? Unless—did you work together? He’s a lawyer, too?”

She shook her head. “No, his wife marched into my office—recall, his very pregnant wife—and told me and everyone within shouting distance, to leave him alone.”

“Jesus,” he said; then he did swear, though under his breath. “I’m so sorry.” He paused for a moment. “So, that’s why that asshole on the phone thought you would be interested in—?” He broke off, swore a little more under his breath. “That’s just not right. Surely, they knew you weren’t—?”

She laughed. “Oh trust, me, they thought they knew. I had something of a reputation. ‘Cool under fire’ would be a nice way of putting it. So something that salacious and tawdry? Oh, I was a marked woman instantly. It got real ugly, real fast.” She waved her hand, then got the rest of it out. “Anyway, I didn’t say anything to my family because of the impending proposal, then the fallout kept me pretty occupied and I really didn’t want to discuss that with my family, and now I’m here for Logan’s wedding, so I’m not going to put a damper on that. But as soon as the wedding is over, I will come clean—or would have, but I sort of got outed today instead.” She thought again about the rest of that particular conversation and decided she’d said enough. She didn’t need Calder knowing folks in town were gossiping about them, and that included the police chief and her sisters. “I didn’t tell them why, but eventually I’ll have to explain why I quit and came home for good, so, I guess—”

“You’re back in the Cove to stay?”

She realized too late what she’d let slip. “I am. Or at least, that’s the current plan. I haven’t done anything about it yet, because—”

“You haven’t told them that part yet.”

She nodded. “I will, but not until the wedding is over. I really wanted Alex and Logan to have their moment and just be here to support them. Logan deserves all the happiness in the world and—”

“And then boathouses are blowing up and family feuds are reigniting,” Calder said. “So much for a peaceful wedding.”

Hannah sighed and slumped a little, and now he was the one squeezing her hand. “And now they know about me and Tim—my ex—so they’ll all be tiptoeing around me at the ceremony, which I will hate and was also why I didn’t mention the real reason he wasn’t here with me.”

“Doesn’t make the wedding part any easier,” he said.

“No, but—” She broke off and looked up at him, peering closely at him until he laughed a little self-consciously.

“What, do I have hush puppy in my teeth?”

“No,” she said, “your teeth are as perfect as the rest of you.”

Now he laughed outright. “What is that supposed to mean? Because you do not make it sound like a good thing, and, for the record, I am far, far from perfect. Ask any member of my family, and they’ll happily regale you with my shortcomings for days.” He made a face. “On second thought, only ask my brothers. You don’t need to hear what my father has to say.”

Hannah smiled dryly. “I’m pretty sure I already did.”

“So, back to fair being fair, you didn’t tell me what brought your marriage to an end. I’ve revealed enough now that I’m not even going to apologize for asking. I deserve equal ammo,” she added with a cheeky grin. Kerry would be so proud of her.

“Well, it’s no secret to anyone why my marriage ended.”

“You said you had differences all along,” she said, steering herself back on track. “So did something else happen? You said you wanted a family—was that one of the differences? I know that would be a hard one to get past.”

“Tenley was sharp, pretty and very smart. I liked her for her intellect as much as I did her . . . everything else,” he finished with a grin that was somehow both endearing and wolfish.

“Such a guy.”

“Guilty, but in the beginning, it was true.”

“So, what were the tarnished spots you missed?”

“Nothing on her. She was always exactly who she was, from the beginning. I just chose to think the differences wouldn’t matter, that the good would outweigh the problems.

“But when I figured out the kind of life I really wanted, the one I knew would make me happy . . . it wasn’t what she wanted.”

“She liked the family merger thing,” she guessed. “Being married to the oldest son of a successful company owner, groomed to take his place, from a good family herself, maybe used to that lifestyle and assuming her life would be more of the same. Am I on the right track?”

“Yes, Counselor,” he said, both a rueful smile and teasing glint on his face, each lethal to her senses in their own way.

“So, did she? Try it your way? You gave her dream life a chance. Did she give yours one, too?”

“No,” he said, quietly. “That was where the ultimatum came in. She already knew what she wanted. She had what she wanted. I was the one who wanted—needed—something different.”

“Your farm?” Hannah thought back again to his father’s harsh criticism of Calder’s horse farm.

He nodded. He opened his mouth to add something, then apparently thought better of it, and closed it again.

“What?” she asked, wanting to reach up and smooth the creases that had formed at the corners of his mouth, his eyes. She didn’t trust herself to do that, though. She wasn’t even strong enough to step away from his touch. “Just say it.”

“You’re right. She married the guy who was being bred to take over his father’s contracting business.”

“In the end, you had to save yourself if there was going to be anything left to give to anyone else.”

His gaze narrowed speculatively and he looked deeply into her eyes, searching them, again. “Is that what you did? When you left your firm? Rescue yourself?”

She nodded, but she looked away then, and didn’t add anything to that.

“So you know the guilt that comes with that. The sense of failure for not being what your partner wants you to be, who they want you to be,” he said, but he didn’t make it a question. “In your case, I’m guessing it was feeling like you were failing family, but still. It’s never an easy decision.”

“Did you get past it?” she asked, after a moment of shared silence.

“I don’t think you get past it as much as you come to terms with it. I don’t regret the choice I made.” He cupped her cheek in his palm and tipped her face up to his. “Not with my farm, the marriage, or the one I’m going to have to make with my father and the company, once I can make the farm self-sustaining. Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt, or that I won’t feel guilty, or sad, but I did come to understand that we only have one life, and it’s up to us to live it as honestly and forthrightly as we know how. For ourselves and the ones we’re here to take care of. My father will never understand that or see it that way. His mission statement is very different from mine and leaves no room for reinterpretation.”

“You inherit what I provided for you and you’re grateful for it, or you’re a total loss,” she murmured and saw the answer in his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “What is your vision for the farm?”

“I have a couple hundred acres. I don’t want to do vegetable farming, but some cows, more goats. Mostly I want to expand the stables, build a few more paddocks, a show ring eventually. Become a boarding facility, as there aren’t many out where I am, hire a trainer or two to give riding lessons. Personally, I’d like to get involved in providing a place for horse rescue and rehabilitation. Maybe combine that with some groups who work with kids who have certain genetic issues, and have found horse therapy to be very rewarding. It would be a great way to put those two things together. But that’s all a ways off yet, and I wouldn’t just up and leave the company high and dry. My youngest brother graduates college next spring and, as of now, anyway, plans to come on board. So that’s sort of the target date for me, too. My father will just have to accept that that is how it will be.”

“Your plan for the farm is . . . well, it’s practical and smart, but it’s also beautiful. You’d be very good at that. Wonderful, even.” He was, she already understood, a rescuer by nature. And not just for broken-down horses. She suspected her heart was in her eyes a little, but he made it damn hard not to feel that way. “Maybe in time your father will come to see the good you’ll be doing.”

Calder grinned again. “You know, Counselor, I might just have to invite you to a Blue family dinner sometime. Maybe you could sway the judge and jury on my poor, sorry behalf.”

She smiled, and didn’t think he’d be offended by saying, “I’m good, but I don’t know if I’m that good.”

He barked a laugh at that and pulled her fully into his arms as smoothly as if that were where she spent most of her time anyway. She went into them, just as smoothly, and decided, for the moment, simply not to question the whys or wherefores.

“Hannah McCrae,” he said, tipping her mouth up to his. “I’m going to kiss you. Really kiss you.”

“Why, is that a warning, Mr. Blue?” she asked, a faint bit of the South coloring the words. “Should I be concerned for my virtue? After all, you’re a suspected felon, are you not? What if being kissed by you besmirches my good name?”

The slow slide of his grin matched the slow slide of hers. His lips were just a breath from hers. “Frankly, my dear, I suddenly don’t think I give a damn.”

Chapter Fourteen

He tasted like hush puppies and root beer, Hannah thought, and decided that might just be the best thing ever. But whereas the food had been a comfort, Calder’s kiss was anything but. This was no gentle, exploratory kiss meant to incite desire, or something fast and hard, delivered in the heat of the moment. This was slow, deliberate, and very, very thorough. He kissed, he nibbled, he nipped. He slid his tongue slowly, languorously between her lips, then seduced hers back between his. He didn’t coax her to lower her walls, he merely set about systematically destroying them, until she wanted to shove him aside and tear them down for him, if it meant having more of him faster, deeper, harder. More of his kisses, more of his hands on her, just . . . more.

He allowed her no time to think, to decide, to be objective, much less rational. He was too busy making her feel, and what she was feeling was simply too damn good to stop just so she could overthink things.

“Your lip,” he murmured when she made a soft sound of protest as he left her mouth and continued his campaign along the curve of her jaw, then the tender skin along the side of her neck, before working his way over her collarbone, this time with his tongue.

“Calder,” she breathed, having no idea what she thought she was going to say.

“Shh,” he whispered, then turned her in his arms so her back was cradled against his body, nudged the fall of her hair aside with his cheek so he could kiss the nape of her neck.

A low, needy moan slipped out as desire raced like a live wire straight down her spine, where it sparked, hot and ready, between her legs. He slid his palms down her arms, then cupped her hips. She braced herself, knowing when he pulled her back against him, she’d feel him, hard and aroused, pressing into the soft curve of her backside. She didn’t know if her knees would hold her up. She felt drugged, intoxicated, like the worst sort of addict, trembling in need of a fix. If she were capable of rational thought at all, she’d tell herself her response was just a knee-jerk reaction to feeling desirable again.

Only that would require linear thought, of which she was entirely incapable at the moment. Her thoughts were like seeds in the wind, scattering about, drifting away on whichever current was the strongest. Which, at the moment, was the current making every muscle between her legs clench so tightly they ached, her nipples so hard they felt like little knots of pure need.

So she braced herself, wanting nothing more in that moment than for him to tug her back into him, press against her, then slide his hands around her body, stroke his fingers over those most sensitive parts, and release the almost excruciatingly sweet tension he was building as he cradled her with his wide palms and pressed hot kisses to the nape of her neck.

She held her breath, feeling his, so warm, on her sensitive damp skin, feeling his fingertips press more firmly into her hips as the trembling need shaking her legs took hold in earnest. She gasped when he nipped her shoulder, moaned as his fingers dug more deeply still in an instant response to the sound, and was a split second away from reaching down and gripping his thighs for support.

“Hannah,” he breathed, the word a rough rasp that was almost as devastating to her senses as his touch, his kiss. “This . . . us—”

“Don’t,” she said, forcing out the word, not wanting to chance that something—anything—he might say, would bring her back to sanity and end this perfect, erotic interlude. She felt him go still behind her, and realized he’d misunderstood her. It was his instant response to her request, his very ability to not push her, even though she knew he wanted it every bit as much as she did, that shoved her past any hope of reclaiming rational judgment. “Don’t stop, Calder,” she gasped. She reached down, back, grabbed the sides of his thighs, sank her fingers in, and was rewarded with a low, guttural groan that exactly expressed the ripping need she felt for him. “That’s what I meant. Don’t stop.”

She felt him press his forehead against the back of her head, and thought for a split second he was going to pull away anyway. And she would have let him. She would, but she might have sobbed immediately afterward. Only this time it would have absolutely nothing to do with any aspect of her life that had existed outside these blazing-hot moments with Calder Blue. There was nothing else in her thoughts except the pooling heat, the feel of his hands on her, and his warm breath on the bare skin of her neck.

She slid her hands around to the backs of his thighs just as his mouth came down on the curve of skin between her neck and her shoulder. She moaned, a long, almost keening sound of want and need, as he growled when her hands grabbed the bottom corners of those perfectly snug back pockets of his jeans and tugged him mercifully, blessedly,
finally
forward, so their bodies met . . . and fit, in perfect, exquisite torture.

Instead of assuaging her needs, the feel of him, so rigid, so hard, pressing into the soft curve of her backside, only served to ramp them up to a fever pitch she hadn’t been aware existed until that moment. He was kissing, biting, then soothing with his tongue, along her neck and shoulder, shoving aside the collar of her sleeveless sundress to get at more bare skin. For her part, she was, God help her, pushing back against him, moving her hips into the cradle of his, groaning fiercely when he relented and thrust back.

“Calder,” she panted. “Please.”

“Please what?” he asked, though it came out as more of a demand. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your hands,” she said, then gasped when his grip on her hips tightened and his fingers slid a dangerous inch or two forward, the tips of them curling over her hip bones. “On me. Touch me.” She was begging now, only she felt absolutely no shame in it. If his uneven breath, the urgency in the way he was nipping at her earlobe, all but devouring the side of her neck with hot, damp, kisses, wasn’t enough of a confirmation that he was in this every bit as deeply as she was, she could feel him jerk and throb against her every time she moved against him.

“Stop,” he told her, his voice tight. He gripped her hips fully now, keeping her from moving them, even while holding her body in full contact with every ramrod hard inch of his. “You’re driving me crazy. I won’t last. And I want to make this last. I want—”

He broke off and tugged her back fully into his arms, cradling her, then slowly slid his fingers around the front of her, until she thought she might go mad and jump straight out of her skin as he drew closer to the apex of her thighs. They were both fully clothed and that mattered not one shred of anything, because she knew the moment he moved those big, strong fingers of his over her—

“I want to feel you fall apart for me,” he growled against the shell of her ear and her body shook with the promise that he would make her do exactly that. He slid the fingertips of one hand very deliberately, with the most perfect, delicious precision, over and between her legs, as the other traveled, flat palm, over her belly, then higher, until he found first one nipple, and rolled it, then the other, just as he pressed the tips of his other fingers right on the exact—

She cried out and shook hard as she came instantly, even with layers of cotton and silk between her throbbing body parts and his wicked, wicked fingertips. Wave after wave of intense, blazing pleasure rocked through her core and radiated outward as he continued to play with her nipples, continued to claim the nape of her neck. She shouldn’t be able to even tolerate his touch, she was so hypersensitive. Instead . . . she climbed straight back up again.

“Oh,” she gasped, shocked and more turned on than she’d ever been in her life. “Calder.” She gripped his thighs hard as she shuddered and gasped through another climax. She was surprised the force of it didn’t topple them both straight to the ground.

He’d planted his legs apart and held steady, like the wall of solid muscle that he was, taking her weight completely against him, wrapping her up in him, and taking her straight to the stars . . . and keeping her there. How did he keep her there? She held on to his thighs still, dug her fingers into his backside, and—she couldn’t help it, had no say in it—ground her hips back against him, and came again as he continued to play with her body and growl against her skin, his own body bucking, but not giving in, not yet.

She might have been whimpering—okay she was absolutely whimpering. She only knew she wanted the part of him she could feel pressing against her, thrusting deep inside of her. Now, immediately, do not pass go, no more delaying the inevitable. Because that’s what it felt like, had felt like, she admitted, since he’d first spoken to her in the seconds after the crash. She’d wanted him just like this, to be taken just like this. She simply hadn’t understood that, the power of it, the very existence of that kind of need, until now.

“Calder, please—”

To her shock, he chuckled against her ear, and it was the sexiest, earthiest thing she’d ever heard.

“Greedy,” he said, sounding pleased, his voice a deep, ragged whisper. “More please,” he said, in a mock British accent, and she was gasping, laughing, and almost crying with need, all at the same time. Only Calder could quote
Oliver Twist
at a time like this, and make it sound carnal and wicked.

“You,” she managed. “I want more—of you.”

She felt the shudder that ran through him, right out to his fingertips, and then he was turning her in his arms, pulling her against him, into him as he buried his hand under the waterfall of her hair, and cupped the back of her neck so he could bring her mouth fully up to his . . . and sink himself into it.

They both groaned and she tried to move even closer, wanting, needing, for the hypersensitized parts he’d brought so screamingly to life to come into contact with any part of him. Then he was growling, running his hands down her sides, her back, cupping the curve of her backside, until she growled too as he tucked her against the rigid, oh-so-beautifully hard length of him. It still wasn’t enough and he must have thought so too, because he gripped her hips and said, “Hold on.” He lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around me, Hannah.”

Just hearing the need in his voice, so thick, so deep, vibrating over her as delectably as his fingertips had, made her go a little wild. He slid her sundress up past her knees as she wrapped her legs around his waist, his hands sliding underneath, up her thighs, until he cupped her cheeks through the silk of her panties, her soaked panties, his fingers so close, so close again.

“Calder,” she whispered raggedly, then buried her face against the side of his neck, reveling in the heat of his skin, the thump of his pulse, the smell of him, crying out as he touched her, stroked her. “Oh!” she cried, “yes!” Whatever she had thought passion could be before was shattered to smithereens now, because this? Was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

He turned them toward the truck, until her back met the door, and with that support, she could pull him in more tightly between her legs. She let out a soft cry of disappointment when his hands slid down her thighs again, only to cry out again when he hitched her legs higher, so he could move even more snugly against her.

“This isn’t—we’re—too many clothes,” was all she could get out as he started those devastating nibbles and kisses along the side of her neck again. She was panting and could hear his labored breathing as well. It was primal, and raw, and—and still not enough. “Calder, I want . . . more.”

He shifted and she shivered in anticipation as she felt him all but rip open the button of his jeans, wrenching the zipper down.

Then he froze. “Dammit, Hannah. I don’t have—I’ve got nothing, no protection.” His voice was a rough, sexy growl that made her shudder with need. “I wasn’t planning this.” He lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes having gone from rich honey to deep whiskey gold. “I wasn’t planning on you.”

She felt ensnared there, in his gaze, and realized that while they’d been all but clawing at each other, this was the first moment their eyes had met. She felt a split second of panic that looking at each other would make it somehow too real, and she didn’t want to think, didn’t want to be rational or safe or smart. She just wanted this, wanted him, and every other last thing in her entire world could simply wait until she’d gotten it.

“I’m protected,” she said, her voice a rasp, her breathing still hard and thick. “I—IUD,” she stammered. “I still have—I never had it taken—I’m—”

He cupped her face, and even in the blazing, animal heat, with the hardest part of him pressing so intimately against the softest part of her, his fingers were gentle on the still-tender bruised skin of her face. “Are you sure, Hannah? I’m—you don’t have to worry about me, I’m safe, but—”

“Me, either. After I found out—after—I got tested. I didn’t know who, or what he’d—I’m okay.” She was stumbling and stammering, but her tongue was as tied up in the need for him as every other part of her.

The way he looked at her had robbed her of her voice. Her throat was thick with an unnamed emotion as the truth of what she’d thought she’d had with Tim was shattered into a million tiny, shallow, superficial little shards. Calder didn’t look at her as if she were some precious object he’d delightedly discovered he could possess, or something perfect and porcelain to be stroked and worshipped and made love to as if it were some kind of beautiful reward, some kind of special prize—which she now realized was exactly how Tim had always taken her. At the time, it had made her feel loved, cherished, but she knew now he’d just wanted what he thought he couldn’t have, delighting in getting to have her, in making her want him in return.

Calder looked at her like a man who wanted her for who she truly was, just as she was, busted nose, skinny body, shattered life, and all. A woman who had maybe made him laugh, made him think, made him want again. It was heady stuff, but in a completely different way. This felt real. It felt honest and normal and earthy. And the truth was, he was all of those things to her. Honest, open, flawed. Real.