Unforgiven (22 page)

He let Macy out quickly, and Bailey stood by the kitchen island, looking nervous. He was nervous too, but he was so damn turned-on he didn’t care. She followed him to his room, and he stripped out of his T-shirt. Her eyes traveled the length of his torso, and her lips started trembling. When he approached her, she jumped at his first touch. He peeled her T-shirt up and over her head and reached back to unclasp her bra. He’d thought her breasts were perhaps slightly larger than they’d been six years ago, and now with her standing topless in front of him, he was certain of it. He loved the new fullness just as much as he’d loved her small tits before.

He was staring, and when he finally touched, he lost all sight of what he was getting into, who she was, what she had done. He just sank into what he was doing, and he let the rest fade to the background. Her skin was warm and soft as silk. Her nipples were tight, light pink peaks against her pale skin. When he sucked that hard nub between his lips, she cried out, and he backed her to his bed, with his head still lowered to her chest. He released her long enough to get her onto his bed, and then he was on top of her, pulling her other nipple into his mouth.

She was panting, and he listened to the sound of her arousal as he lashed his tongue across her skin. He clamped gently down on her with his teeth, and her whimper caught in her throat. He had no idea why he liked to bite her and nip at her skin, but he loved the sudden tension that ran through her body whenever he did. He loved even more the release and groan she emitted when he relaxed his jaw.

Her hips were writhing gently beneath him, and he reached to undo the button and lower the zipper. He pushed his hand roughly past the waist of her underwear, and the second he managed to get his fingers between her soaking-hot lips, he plunged his middle finger deep into her. It wasn’t a whimper or a cry that time. She shrieked at the invasion, and he released her nipple to watch her face. He thought at first he’d hurt her, and she was certainly tight enough around his finger to think it was possible, but her expression wasn’t pained in the least. It was desperation. She pushed down over his finger, sinking him just that much farther into her warmth. If ever there was a woman who could make him come just by touching her, she was the one.

He used his free hand to start pulling her pants down her hips, but he refused to pull his finger from her pussy. She lifted her hips, using her own hands to wriggle out of her jeans, and when he stripped her out of them, he gaped at her. She likely thought he’d lost his mind, and he may have. He was staring at his finger buried knuckle deep inside her, and she was watching him. Her sex was glistening as she seeped her wetness around him, and even his finger looked huge against her small, pale lips. He pulled his finger from her, watching the slick, wet-coated skin emerge, and when he started pushing another finger in too, her heels dug into the sheet, and she groaned.

He stretched her open as he pushed, and her fists twisted in the sheets at her hips. The sight of her body slowly taking his fingers made him think of nothing but sinking his dick into her body. It sure as hell wasn’t a new fantasy, but finally seeing her body take the thickness of his fingers gave him a whole new perspective and left him stunned in utter need for her. He pulled gently from her again, and then pushed in once more. She was so slick with arousal, and her stomach muscles trembled as he started thrusting. He plunged in and out as she whimpered and writhed, and when he leaned to her sex, she stilled, frozen as a statue.

He used his free hand to part the lips of her sex. The inside lips of her pussy were distended around him, and he licked from the top of his fingers up to the hood of her clit. He pushed it back with the tip of his tongue, and pushed gently against the hardened nub of nerves. She bucked against his mouth, and he smiled against the hot, slick skin. He lashed, he licked, he sucked, and he laved until her body was trembling and quivering from head to toe, and then he sucked hard, pulling the nub into his mouth. She exploded around him. Her entire body tensed and then convulsed as her orgasm worked through her body.

He licked her slowly through her release as her stomach muscles twitched. He traced her lips with his tongue, kissing her pussy just like he would her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered, and he watched as she relaxed again. When he sat up between her legs, he rubbed her thigh with one hand, and he caressed her belly with the other. Her hands were now behind her head, and she seemed nervous again. He caressed down to the mound of her sex, and he rubbed gently without parting her lips.

When he stood from the bed, she assumed he expected her to return the favor, but it wasn’t his intent, and as she sat and reached for the waist of his jeans, he stilled her hands with his own. “Please don’t.” She looked stunned, even hurt perhaps. He had no idea why he wasn’t ready for this. He was a man, he was always ready, and God knew his body was more than willing, but he just wasn’t . . . ready. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be back in a few minutes.

Her eyes followed him as he walked to his bathroom, and he knew she was confused if nothing else. He stared at his dick once he was in the shower. He was so agonizingly hard, and the cure for that was in the other room wanting to be with him. Instead, he stroked his cock, imagining it was her touch, her mouth, her need that was pleasuring him, and he came with gritted teeth and a stifled moan.

When he returned to bed, he crawled naked in next to her and pulled her into his arms before she even had a chance to roll over and see him. She stilled for a moment before relaxing into his arms. He kissed her neck, and he stared over her shoulder at her delicate hand stretched out in front of her on the bed. He’d noticed her hands before. They were so small and her fingers so elegant and graceful compared to his. He knew what the smallest details of her body looked like, barring the ones he’d only just been introduced to.

He’d watched her so closely for years, and he knew that her pinky popped out when she lifted a glass to her lips. He also knew she was powerless to stop it, and they’d laughed at her inability to control her fingers when she held a cup before. He knew that she was ticklish, and the very spot that most sent her into spirals of laughter that would likely end with her wetting herself was right by his hand under her arm.

He could see the scar on the side of her neck that she’d gotten when Jess hooked her with a fishing lure, and he remembered the day so clearly. She’d had blood dripping from her neck, but they were still laughing like idiots to the point of having tears in their eyes. He’d been the one to wriggle the hook loose from her skin as her hands gripped the sides of his waist. It made concentration difficult for sure. Every inch of her was a memory to him, and they were really good memories—the kind you built a life around.

He touched the scar, and she arched her neck. He trailed his fingers out along her shoulder and down her arm to her hand. His larger fingers wound through her thin feminine ones, and he clasped her hand, pulling it up to her chest and tightening his hold on her. The smell of her shampoo was what he fell asleep to, but he jolted in a start when he heard himself tell her he loved her. For a moment he thought he might have said it out loud, but she was breathing steadily beside him, and when he leaned up, her eyes were closed, her chest was rising and falling slowly, and her lips were parted just slightly.

He closed his eyes again, settling in beside her warm body, and he imagined it. Loving her.

She was alone when she woke. She was still naked, and she was still tired. But she wanted to find him. She tossed her T-shirt back on and her underwear, and she took a quick look at herself in the bathroom mirror. The hall outside his bedroom smelled of coffee, and she followed it downstairs. She could hear birds chirping outside, and when she looked toward the French doors that led to the back deck, they were standing wide open and a breeze was ruffling the drapes.

He was already in the kitchen, standing at the coffeepot and pouring himself a cup. When he turned to her, he stilled, and he watched. He didn’t smile, he didn’t frown, he just looked. He was already dressed for the day in slacks, dress shirt, and tie. He looked quite incredible in the very intimidating professional sort of way, and as she stared right back at him, she shuddered.

“Hi.” Seemed like an appropriate thing to say after the night before.

“Coffee?” She nodded, and he poured her a cup as she approached him. They reached for the creamer at the same time, and he pulled back quickly as though her skin were radioactive. She had no idea why or if she should be offended, and when he cleared his throat nervously, she peered up at him. His jaw was tight, and his body was tense. It was not as if she wasn’t struggling to stay calm around him too, but shit, she’d not expected this level of discomfort.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just running late.” He set his coffee on the counter without even taking a drink. “I should go.”

She reached for the side of his waist, and the moment he felt her touch, he released a huff of breath and pulled away, walking toward the front door. “Sorry.” She muttered the word under her breath, and he stilled in place for a moment.

He didn’t stop when he reached the front door, and she watched his backside as he turned the knob, pulled the door open, and pulled it closed behind him without ever turning back to her. “What the fuck just happened?” She spoke to no one at all, but Macy suddenly perked her ears up from her place on the kitchen rug. She tilted her head to the side, watching Bailey inquisitively. “You’re dad’s a weirdo, Mace. Wanna go for a walk?” Macy knew that word well, and she bounced off the rug, following Bailey around the house until she was dressed and ready to walk out the door.

Bailey didn’t bother with her running shoes. They walked down the steep incline to the water’s edge far below, and it was a good hour and a half later before they returned. Macy didn’t stop moving the entire time, and when Bailey let her back inside, she lapped up the whole bowl of water on the mudroom floor. Bailey might not have jogged on her trek with Macy, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t sweaty as hell. It was just one of those humid days that felt more like a steam sauna than summer. She fed Macy, grabbed her running bag, and started heading for the door when the phone rang.

Caller ID said it was Michelle, and it was only then that Bailey realized she should have perhaps checked in with her worrisome friend. “Hey, Michelle. Sorry, I should have called you this morning.”

“Yes, you should have. But you can make it up to me.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Let me bring you lunch. Salads from the deli. I can be there in twenty minutes. I need to get out of here for a while. My dad’s driving me crazy with inventory problems.”

“Well, I was just running out the door to head to my place for a bit. I don’t have any clean clothes.”

“No clean clothes, meaning you spent the night?” Bailey didn’t respond. “Never mind. You can fill me in later. I’ll swing by and pick you up, and I’ll get the salads on the way. I can drop you back off there after. Deal?”

“Deal.” She sank back down to sit on the sofa and twiddle her thumbs for twenty minutes, and Macy ended up sitting her sixty-pound ass on top of her like a large, overgrown child. She had to push the dog off her just to answer the door when Michelle finally arrived, and the moment she closed the door behind her, Macy started howling. She wasn’t happy about being left midday.

“Soooo. . .” Apparently drawing out the word was supposed to be Bailey’s hint to spill the beans.

“So.” She didn’t take the bait.

“Oh, come on. I got ditched last night for a man. A man you have a somewhat sordid history with, and you don’t think you owe me an explanation?”

“I’m sweaty, you promised me a salad, and I’m not talking until I’ve eaten and showered.” She smirked at Michelle. She was really just stalling. She didn’t really want to have this conversation. Not because talking sex with Michelle was off limits, but because this particular conversation was difficult, and she wasn’t sure she really knew what was going on, let alone whether she could put it into words or not.

But her salad and shower, not to mention sex talk, took a backseat when they pulled into her driveway. Her home, normally plain and boring, was anything but at the moment. There was spray-painted lettering covering the open spaces between the windows, there was shoe polish on the windows themselves, and her garbage cans had been overturned, spilling garbage at her front door. If that weren’t devastation enough, she was forced to read the words that very much reeked of hate mail.

ROT IN HELL

KILLER

DRUNK

MURDERER

LEAVE SAVOY

NOT WELCOME

Bailey sat in stunned silence as Michelle sat quietly beside her. Michelle quiet was not a normal thing, and it spoke volumes. It was many long seconds before she could collect herself enough to deliver some sarcasm. “Ah, sweetie, you gots yourself a fan club.” Her eyes flashed around to the mess, the disdain evident on her face. “Fucktabulous!”

Bailey grunted or groaned or something close to the sound a zombie makes. Her tongue didn’t seem to remember how to get out of her mouth’s way, and she moaned an incoherent response. She stumbled from the car, trying to figure out what she was supposed to do.

“I think we need to call the police, Bay.” Bailey just nodded and let Michelle call from her cell phone. They didn’t bother going inside and instead, sat outside on an old garden bench eating their salads, reading, and then rereading the messages someone thought necessary to write to her. Fucktabulous was right.

“I should call Darren and let him know I might not make it back over to his place today. Can I use your cell?” She handed it over, and Bailey stood as she dialed. He didn’t answer, and she was hit with a moment of relief. Their morning had been entirely too strained to not be nervous about talking to him. “Hi . . . it’s Bailey. Umm . . . I’m not sure I can . . . well, I ran home to get a change of clothes and to shower, and somebody vandalized my house—spray-painted the siding, shoe-polished the windows, garbage everywhere. I don’t know what . . . I have to stay here, but I’ll . . . I guess I’ll try to reach you later.” She hung up abruptly, not knowing what else to say, and she returned to Michelle’s side to wait.