Page 22 of Three More Shots
Silent yet curious, I wait as she pulls out her cell. She types in her code and taps a few icons, swiping through photos until she finds one that makes her smile. A twist of joy and sorrow in her expression like only a mother's heart can understand.
“I look happy on the outside, but on the inside, I'm doing everything I can not to break down.” She holds up the screen for me to see the image. Looks can be deceiving because everything seems fine with her cradling Ainsley in her arms in front of a banner advertising some kid's cartoon. “It was an employee appreciation event hosted by my ex-husband's company. It was her first movie, and I thought she would have fun. Instead, she freaked out from the costumed characters walking around in the lobby. She started screaming and hitting the other kids and kicking me when I picked her up."
Fuck. The misery seeping through her words hurts me too.
"People were whispering about us and the scene she caused, and he was so furious. All I wanted was for him to help me with her. All he wanted was for us to act like nothing was wrong. He didn't care that she was scared and I was hurting. We had to keep smiling, keep pretending everything was fine. My shins were bleeding under my pants, and the side of my face was throbbing from where she'd smacked me, but he just kept hissing at me to do something about her when I had absolutely no idea what to do."
A closer look reveals the truth. The pinkness streaking her face that I thought was euphoria is instead a blossoming bruise. Her shiny eyes are full of unshed tears. Ainsley's tangled hair from her rampage knots across her shoulders. Most painful is the absence of the person who should be in the photo. Although I'm glad I'm not forced to see his stupid fucking face after making the woman who he was supposed to love and cherish cry. The cocksucker who made her feel alone. The bastard who made her think neither of them was worth the effort.
"Todd wanted the perfect life. We’re not perfect.”
“No one is.”
“Maybe not, but other people can at least fake it. They can look and sound like they are when they're in public. We couldn’t pretend, and that wasn’t good enough for him. He moved out the next day, and I only heard from him through his lawyer after that. To him, we don't exist.”
"His loss."
"I know." Her fingertip runs down the photo, almost caressing Ainsley's damp face. Love so fierce and genuine I can feel the emotion inside me from her touch on the glass. "I just wanted you to understand why I've been so hesitant. We've been disappointed before, and I can't let it happen to her again."
Her.Once again Corinne protects her daughter, not even considering herself. Luckily, I'm going to fucking protect both of them. "I know a week isn't really long enough for me to prove myself, but I at least appreciate you giving me the chance."
“Sometimes, I don’t know if it’s harder or easier being alone, but I do get tired of being lonely. So thank you for giving me a chance.”
When she lays her mobile next to her unfinished drink and looks up at me in anticipation, I almost tip over the couch in my urgency to get closer to her. Prepared to hold her the way she likes for as long as she needs me to. Yet she surprises the hell out of me when she reaches for me too. Pulling me down harder than I expect, I drop to a knee. Almost as if I'm proposing, which I fucking would ask her to marry me already if I thought she would say yes.
She says yes to me taking her mouth like I own it, since I do, in fact, own it and every other piece of her. Rich and spicy from the bourbon still warming her lips, she parts for my tongue, allowing me to delve inside, deep and powerful. My hands entwine in her hair, keeping her close.
No need because she clutches me just as tight. Not just giving herself to me but taking all of me too. I expected to have to go slow, be patient with her always so tentative. Happier than hell to be this wrong as she scoots to the end of the cushion and glides her hands to my collar.Jesus.
It's sexy yet awkward as hell in this position, which I can easily remedy. I stand and pull her up with me, making my cock pulse harder from her clinging to me – unwilling to let me go. I groan and she smiles, pleased from what she does to me. Soon she's going to be even more pleased with what I do to her. "I need to see you,cara. All of you."
I'm raspy with desire and growl when she shudders from the impact of my words on her. Otherwise, she remains still, hesitant to give in to my commands, so I take over, unable to control myself any longer.
I slide her dress over her head, enjoying the view of her as the fabric glides upward. A doubtful expression meets me on the other side, her head titled as if waiting for my response. Anticipating my reaction. All I can manage is blowing out my breath on a swear because she really is that fucking gorgeous.
"I know you're probably used to women with salon blowouts and waxed legs and expensive lingerie. While I'm coupon haircuts and shaved legs with bargain bin razors and panties from the dollar store."
Fuck that. I slide my hands under her ass and lift her up, damn grateful when her legs wrap around my waist and her fingers grip my tee with a grasp as strong as mine. "You're real, Corinne, and that's what makes me want you."
"You never make me feel like I'm not good enough. That I'm never anything but beautiful."
"Because you are. You’re fucking magnificent."
A luminous smile lights up her sweet face, unlike any I’ve seen from her since I’ve known her. Radiating with pure happiness that fucks me up to see such a deep emotion finally emerge.
"If nothing ever comes of us after today, thank you for giving me this. For giving me a perfect afternoon I'll never forget or–"
Enough. I slam my mouth onto hers, quieting her insecurity and proving our permanence because I don’t want to hear any more of that bullshit before I make love to my future wife. Her nails scrape my scalp as she tugs my hair tighter, making me stride us straight to the bed. I lay her down, as gentle as I can manage, and curl my fingers around her graceful throat in warning. “Don’t move.”
She might not fully trust me yet, and I know I sure as hell don’t trust her not to run. To push me away literally or figuratively. To make up excuses or reasons to keep me from fucking her, from loving her.
With her small nod of agreement, I step back and watch her breasts strain against her sheer white bra as heavy breaths fill her lungs. I tug the back of my tee-shirt over my head and shove down my jeans and boxer briefs faster than I ever have before. Climbing onto the mattress and covering her body with mine, I balance on one forearm to keep from crushing her while my other hand caresses her cheek. “Don’t fight me. You’ll lose every fucking time. You’ve been mine since I saw you at the coffee house.”
“I know.”
Her whisper flames the inferno all the way to my balls, heavy and full resting against the mattress in celebration of her finally underneath me. “You know that you’ll lose or that you’re mine?”
“Both.”
