Searching for Someday (Searching For 1)

Slade frowned. "What about your parents? Didn't they try to help?"

"They seemed to think I'd outgrow it, but the school finally convinced them to send me to a regular therapist. My mother believed I was fine the way I was, that I was nervous and trying too hard to express myself. She enrolled me in yoga classes and music, believing I needed to let go and accept who I was. Dad backed her and they'd just confirm they loved me exactly the way I was. That in their eyes, I was already perfect. You see, my mom lost two children before she was able to carry me to term. They called me their miracle baby."

Slade analyzed her words. On the surface that type of love was hard to fight, the natural acceptance of parents who loved their child. The burn of perfection a mother's gaze saw in the baby she'd always wanted. But what was the price for Kate? How would it feel to be so frustrated with speaking? To want her parents to say it was a problem and get her the help she needed, but too afraid to confess she failed them? "Was school hard?"

She stiffened beneath him. Raw pain slammed into his gut at the idea of her being hurt by others. Like his sister. How many times had he found Jane crying, broken, trying to make it in a world where cruelty was flaunted and sensitivity was demolished? She never fit in with the right crowd, so she was consistently punished. "Yeah. I got bullied, of course. Some teachers tried to help; others ignored it. I kept to myself, and since I transferred late in the game, I barely made friends. For years, I felt so isolated and stupid. Why couldn't I speak normally like everyone else? Kids used to finish my sentences for me or imitate me. It got so bad I decided never to open my mouth, even to answer my teacher. My grades plummeted. But it taught me some hard lessons. Even things that are terrible finally end. If you lock down and fight through it, eventually the bad stuff is over."

Pride surged. Damn, she was strong. How many people bitched and whined about their upbringing? Blaming others for bad choices and never looking inward? "I graduated and got into NYU. I met Arilyn and Kennedy in my first semester, and we bonded immediately. Manhattan was a big city, full of people who were too busy to care if I didn't speak perfectly. I found a great therapist and finally learned techniques to control my speech."

"But you finally got your happy ever after with Kinnections."

"Yes. Our famous drunken idea became a reality because we fought hard for it. My therapist really helped with my growing confidence, and I realized just because my speech would never be perfect, it didn't mean I couldn't own my business and make it a huge success."

"You amaze me." She shook her head in denial, but he forced her chin up. "You're an intelligent, capable, well-spoken woman, and I would've never known you had such a struggle."

"We all did. Kennedy battled a weight problem and then struggled with anorexia. Arilyn was a real geek and a complete outcast. We made it. I didn't tell you this for pity, Slade. I just wanted you to know . . . more."

Her confession shattered him, along with her inner strength. All the ridiculous assumptions he made about her and her crew haunted him. The idea of such vibrant, passionate women battling peer pressure and inner demons reminded him he had forgotten an important lesson. One shouldn't judge the surface before knowing the truth. Shame filled him. Isn't that what others consistently did to his sister? Assumed she was an overemotional geek who spurned others because she thought she was better than everyone?

"Thank you for giving me that gift."

"Slade?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Will you tell me something? Something you haven't told anyone else?"

He jerked back and studied her face. Curiosity gleamed in her eyes, but there was more. A vulnerability and longing to connect, to share an intimacy beyond their lovemaking and transcend the physical. The sexual pull between them was so strong it shimmered around them in a visible aura, but Slade realized in that moment she wanted to hold something more from this encounter. Something to remember in the harsh light of morning that wouldn't drift away in a wisp of smoke.

His heart lurched in his chest. From fear. From the bonds of confessing his own secrets to this woman who held more power than she knew. But he couldn't deny her, not tonight.

"I met my ex-wife in high school. I was young, full of angst, and too many hormones. I was at the top of my class, driven to succeed, and she was the bad girl on campus. I had been accepted to Harvard, and she decided to go with me, so we eloped at graduation." The image shimmered before his vision in all its taunting mockery, but he pushed on, determined to give her the story. "God, we were doomed from day one. I wanted to be a lawyer more than anything. She wanted to be my wife and thought marriage would be fun. Like high school. Needless to say, it wasn't, and things turned into a mess."

"Did she go to college, too? Want a career for herself?"

"Tracey wasn't ambitious. She wanted to party, have fun, and be a lawyer's wife. She craved excitement like a junkie, loved living on the edge." A humorless laugh escaped his lips. "School took everything I had. I rarely saw her, and when I did we'd fight, and she'd threaten me with cheating. We held on until I graduated, interned at a firm, and finally scored a job. We moved to New York together, but by then, we barely had a marriage. I came home one day early and caught her with another guy. Sad part was, I didn't even blame her. She was lonely, and I couldn't give her what she wanted. We divorced and moved on."

He fell silent. Kate rolled over and propped her chin in her hands. White-blond hair slid over one eye. Those lush lips pursed as if she were thinking and sorting over his story. "Do you still blame yourself?" she asked softly.

He almost jerked at the direct question but managed to hold her gaze. "Sometimes. I was selfish, and concentrated on my future rather than on us as a couple. I wasn't suited for marriage."

"You were young. Raw. Our first loves are the ones who define us, who teach us lessons and make us stronger. You've grown and know who you are. Look at the way you protect your sister and look out for her. You take care of the ones you love."

The breath whooshed from his lungs. The simplicity of her words rocked his core, the understanding on her face without pity or judgment, just acceptance. Of him. A surge of heat took hold, stiffening his dick, and her eyes widened as she reacted immediately to the lust that pulsed in every pore and demanded he sate his hunger. There was only one way to express himself and dump the whirling emotions needing outlet.

"Slade--"

"I want you. Again."

He gripped her arms and flipped her on her back, climbing on top to straddle her. The gorgeous bared curves of her body lured him to taste and touch every inch, until she wiggled and begged for mercy. With a growl, he lowered his head to rub his stubbled jaw against the softness of her breasts, his hands urging her thighs wide apart. She moaned and allowed him full access. Her nipples stood tight and hard, and he licked them, nibbling and teasing until her skin quivered and her breasts were swollen. "I love your breasts. One day, I intend on making you come just by licking them. I wonder how long it will take before you beg for mercy?"

She shuddered, and he laughed low in satisfaction. Using his thumbs to pull her engorged lips apart, he slid his fingers back and forth over her wet, pink folds. Teased her clit to a hard nub. Then delved into her channel. She sucked him in with pure greed, and her fists beat the mattress in agony, held on the verge of an orgasm without a way to get there. A violent rush of possessiveness claimed him, making him want to give this woman excruciating pleasure, to give her a memory she'd never forget, to demand her complete surrender of everything she was, good and bad, light and dark, inside and outside until there was nothing left he didn't own.

He curled his fingers and dove deep, hitting the sweet spot as she screamed. "How bad do you want me?" he asked, loving her fierce reaction and the way she demanded her pleasure.

"I can't take any more, please, let me come."

"You can take more. Give me more." He kept up the rotating thrusts, while he nibbled on the sensitive flesh of her belly, then back up to her breasts to suck hard on the s

trawberry tips. Her heels dug into the mattress, her panting breaths filling the room.

"I'll do anything, Slade, anything, please."

Her pretty begging made the skin on his cock pull and tighten. He wasn't going to last long, the driving need to be inside of her fogged his mind and intentions to sexually tease and torture her. But he'd have his revenge. Now.

"Beg me again, Kate. But call me counselor."

She gasped, but was too far gone to deny him. Her pussy clamped down and drenched his fingers, his teeth poised on the hard nub of her nipple, waiting for the final break.

"Counselor! Please make me come!"

The sweet words hit his ears the same time he drove three fingers hard into her tight, soaked channel.

She clenched and shattered around him. Her muscles gave up the fight and her whole body shuddered, while he kissed her deep, drunk on the taste of her honey, which was sweeter than cotton candy. She'd barely stopped convulsing when he ripped open the condom, covered himself, and drove home.

His.

The mantra echoed in his brain as his dick pounded her hard, taking her back up with raw, controlled motions. She fell into the second orgasm easily, with his name on her lips. He followed her over the edge and took a leap he'd been denying himself for years, giving himself up completely to this moment, the orgasm not only seizing his body but going much deeper, until there was nothing left of him.

Slade kissed her cheeks and smoothed back her hair. She was already falling into a half sleep, and he quickly disposed of the condom, joining her back in bed and holding her tight. He allowed himself to tumble into slumber with a final thought flickering through his mind.

What had she done to him?

Slade slept.

eleven

KATE GROANED AND shoved her face into the pillow. She surfaced from the hazy world of sleep and noticed a few details. She clung to the side of her bed when she normally slept right in the middle. A heavy scent hung in the air, deliciously musky and sinful. And why did her thighs and legs feel like they were on fire? She ached deep in her muscles, especially between her legs. Fragments of memory shifted past her.

Kate jerked up, eyes bugging out of her head.

Oh. My. God.

She'd slept with Slade Montgomery.

Kate squeezed her eyes shut as images of last night hit her full force. Begging him to do bad things to her. His mouth between her legs while she called him counselor. His wicked growl when he told her to give it up. All of it.

And she had.