One to Leave (One to Hold 5)

Chapter 9: Layers Deep

Stuart

All the things I decided, my plans, what was coming... all of it went out the window with Mariska. I didn’t know what I wanted. It was all fucked up and wrong, but I’d brought her to this place. My place.

I’d done my best not to think about her, to forget the feel of her lips against mine, the taste of cool water on her tongue. I’d gone back to Bill’s with one goal in mind—I’d gather my things and stay at the cabin until they were gone. I’d be safe here.

Then she appeared. She touched me, and what did I do? I deflowered her, brought her here, and proceeded to fuck her four more times. Shit! Now she lay beside me asleep, looking like some gorgeous promise of a different future, new plans.

No. I shook my head and slipped from the bed, away from her. This was part of the process. My will was still in recovery. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but if I let it go further, it would all be on me.

Walking to the coffee pot, I pulled it out and started the process. Water in the carafe, grounds in the strainer. My back didn’t hurt. Putting the machine back together and hitting the On button, I leaned to the side. No pain. Leaning to the other side yielded the same result. I felt strong.

Glancing at the bed again, I thought of last night. She’d spent more time working on my back than she had the first time—most likely because we were pretty well satisfied sexually. When she finished, I actually did fall asleep. I awoke later in the night in the darkness to find her curled next to me. In the past, I didn’t spend the night with the women I slept with. As a result, I never knew how immensely satisfying it could be to wake with a hard on and pull her to me. Arms around her waist, I couldn’t tell if she was completely awake, but she didn’t resist. My hands went under her shirt to cup her breasts. My face was in her jasmine hair, and I kissed that sensitive spot behind her ear. A little moan, and I slipped between her thighs from behind. She was slippery and wet. Bracing her against me, I move hard and fast. Her back arched as I drove deeper, and it didn’t take long before we finished. Another moan, a sated kiss, and we were asleep again. God, it was fantastic. What the hell was I doing?

I heard her sigh, and she stretched an arm over her head. The coffee finished dripping, and I turned away from the hypnotic sight of her, trying to think this through. I brought her here so we could get to know each other better. That’s all. Sure. What the hell kind of lies was I telling myself these days?

“How long have you been up?” Her voice was high and thick with sleep. I reached for mugs and poured two cups of coffee.

“Long enough to make this.” I carried them to the table. “Cream and sugar?”

“Just cream.” She pushed the pillows up against the headboard as she watched me. She pulled my flannel shirt over her naked torso, and I averted my eyes, pouring cream into hers, nothing in mine.

Stepping over to the bed, I handed her the mug then sat on the sofa. “Sleep well?”

The fire had gone out, but it was still warm inside, the result of it not getting very cold out.

“Yes.” She spoke around a sip of coffee. Then a sly tone filled her voice. “It seems I remember another little bonus around midnight.”

“I’m detecting a pattern.”

“I wasn’t wet or naked!” Her voice was still teasing.

“You did touch me, however.”

At that she started to laugh. I couldn’t help a smile curling my lips. Dammit.

“So what are we doing today?” She took another sip. “Besides more of the same, of course.”

“Glad you’re finally onboard with the program.” Another giggle from the bed. “Actually, there’s a lake close by. I’m pretty sure no one goes there but me.”

She was quiet, sipping. My eyes moved from the dying embers to her. She only watched me over the rim of her mug.

“I’d be very interested to know what you’re thinking right now, Ms....” I thought about it. “I don’t know your last name.”

“Heron.” Her reply was quiet. “I don’t know your middle name, Mr. Knight.”

“William.”

“Same as your uncle?”

“It’s a family name.”

She took another sip, and I watched her thinking. “What’s your middle name?”

“Renee.”

“Mariska Renee Heron.” It rolled off my tongue like music.