Page 73 of Fall Wherever They May

Aspen

The jets from the bath massage my deliciously aching muscles as Cal bathes me. He worked me hard, but I could tell he was holding back. I turn around in the tub and straddle him. Running my hands through his hair, I kiss him hard and passionately. I want him again. He’s going to turn me into a fiend. I didn’t think sex could be this good, but I guess that’s to be expected when the last time you had sex was in high school with a selfish boy.

“As much as I want to fuck you again, Angel, I think we need to give your body time to rest,” he says to me as he lightly runs the cloth over my skin. “Right now, I want to take you to bed and hold you.”

I stay silent, trying to devise a plan to make him fuck me again. Maybe I need to be bratty . . . no, he will see right through that. Sighing, I take the cloth from his hand. I pour his body wash on the rag, run it down his chest, over his shoulders, down his arms. My eyes trail my hand’s movements. His body is completely insane, and I bask in the fact that he’s mine.

Once we’re both washed, he taps my leg. “Time for bed.”

I lift myself to stand. He follows suit, steps out of the tub, and grabs a towel for each of us before wrapping me in one. We both make our way to the bed, where he places two pills in the palm of my hand and hands me a glass of water. Throwing the pills back, I take a sip.

“Drink the entire thing.”

I eye him as I swallow the entire contents of the glass.

“Good girl.”

When he says those words to me, my entire body lights up. I guess that’s what people call a praise kink. I’m here for it . . . he can call me hisgood girlall damn day, and I would never get tired of hearing it. He tosses the covers back, and I climb in.

He leans over the bed, arms locked, both fists against the mattress, his muscles flexing. A towel is tightly wrapped around his waist, hair mussed and sexy, while droplets of water rivulet down his chest and abs. Why does this feel like some form of torture? Him standing there looking like that is like dangling a cookie in front of a child and telling them they can’t have it.

“I’ll be right back. I need to clean everything up.” He drops a kiss on my lips.

As I watch him clean the leather through the open door, my eyes become heavy. Somewhere in my subconscious, I feel the bed dip and his arms wrap around me. I stir as he buries his head into my neck.

“I love you, Aspen,” he whispers.

Get in and get out. That’s the mantra I repeat to myself as we take the winding road to my father’s house. The National Weather Service’s warning of a winter weather advisory repeats through the truck speakers.

“Maybe we should turn around and go back, do this some other time when we don’t have a chance of freezing rain.”

“It’s just a winter weather advisory. Winter weather advisories in New York are like tornado watches in Oklahoma. Did you run to a cellar every time there was a watch, or did you go about your life?”

I mean, I guess he has a point, but still, I’m nervous. The plus side is that practice ended early because Coach had an appointment. Thank God. We were able to leave earlier than expected, which means we should be able to make it home before the storm hits.

When I heard the weather this morning, I told Cal we should just stay home, but he said we had enough time, and he was adamant that I needed to put this behind me. I guess that’s what happens when your boyfriend bears witness to you having a breakdown. Yeah, that happened. Just what I needed at the time—to embarrass myself further as if I hadn’t already done that enough on Christmas night. The day we all came back from my father’s apartment, I couldn’t hold it together. With no indication as to why my father left me or if he even loved me, I was a complete mess.

It’s the same cycle over and over. Feelings of rejection and abandonment are buried so deep that no matter what I do, I just can’t seem to move past it. My mom can say whatever she wants about them protecting me, but for some reason, I’ll never believe her. Maybe I too have some deep-seated issues.

Last time I attempted something like this, I ended up a crying mess in my room, wrapped in Cal’s arms. I was completely broken, and like the true friend he is, he picked upthe pieces and held me together. I’ll be stronger this time, I tell myself as the navigation system alerts us to take a right. Pulling up to the gate, I dig through my purse for the code to theiron gate and hand the sticky note to Cal. I take a deep, calming breath. Here we go.

He enters the four-digit code into the keypad and presses the pound key. The gate opens, its wheels squeaking as they run along the tracks. Trees in their skeletal forms line the lengthy drive as we make our way to the house. House. Ha! That’s an understatement. More like a mansion. What is it with these single men living in these massive houses all alone?

Maybe I’m just used to the simplicity of living on the farm in Oklahoma. There was no reason to impress anyone because everyone lived pretty much the same way: uncomplicated. Here, in New York, it’s all about who’s wearing whom, your financial status, where you live, what gala you’re attending; the list goes on and on—a repetition of keeping up with the Joneses. I don’t want Tucker to be raised that way. I want him to be humble and kind. I don’t want him to flaunt his money and status around. This isn’t the life that I had planned for him, but it’s one we are going to make the most of. All I can do is instill good values in him and pray they take hold.

“You doing okay there, Angel?” Cal breaks me out of my thoughts. “I sense those wheels turning.”

My eyes train on him as he rounds the driveway and parks. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you.” With our fingers interlocked, Cal places a kiss on my hand, then he hops out of the truck.

Usually, I would mess with him, open my own door, and hop out, but today I’m not feeling so playful. Being here makes me sick with nerves, but I’m tired of procrastinating. Cal’s right: the longer this lingers over my head, the longer I’ll feel thisanxiety, and above everything, I need closure. He rounds the front, and I wait until he opens my door.

I blow out a breath as he reaches for my hand to help me. I jump down from the passenger seat. “Okay, let’s get this over with before the storm hits. The last thing I want is to be stuck here.”

“If we had just taken the helicopter . . .”

“You already know I’m not touching his assets. The only reason I took over the team is because I didn’t really have a choice.”

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