Love Me Like That (15 page)

I rest my cheek on her head and wait for her to continue. I have a million questions I want to ask her, but I’m hoping she wants to tell me what I’m dying to know rather than having to pull the information from her.

She’s going to ask you next.

After a few more minutes of silence, she begins again. “We were completely platonic for the first couple of months. I wanted nothing to do with men in general and Trent,” she chuckles lightly. “Well, Trent was very patient. Eventually, it turned into something more.”

“Did he treat you better?” My voice is husky and clouded with the anger from her continued story about Brian.

“Trent treated me like a princess. He made me go to counseling. He helped me find a job. He gave me everything I ever needed and never asked for much in return. He held me when I cried and reminded me how special I am when I began blaming myself for what Brian did to me. He was my rock.”

“I had assumed that things were bad, and then he cheated on you.” I don’t know why I said that out loud but if things were perfect why would he cheat on her?

She sniffles loudly. “Nope. No signs that I can think of; there were no arguments or problems. Trent made me whole and then shattered me worse than Brian ever did with his physical abuse.”

I hold her tighter as she begins to sob quietly. This beautiful broken angel.

“I thought we’d get married eventually, have babies. Apparently I have really bad luck with men. Brian was my first, and I jumped straight from him to Trent and now…” Her voice trails off, but I get her point. Brian, Trent, and then me.

Third try’s the charm, sweet girl.

Where the hell did that come from?

“You’ve only been with three men?” Not the best change of subject but it’s all I can think of right now.

“Yes, including you,” she whispers.

“Same here,” I share.

“You’ve only been with three men?”

I laugh heartily shaking her on my chest. “Three women smart ass. Well, two and a half.”

“Care to explain the half?”
Why the fuck did I say that shit?

“Not a chance,” I say flatly. Why I open my mouth and can’t control what comes out when I’m around her, I have no idea.

“I shared my story with you,” she pouts.

“There is a huge difference in being a survivor and creating your own personal shit storm.”

“Will you tell me about your wife?” She changes the subject, and I can honestly say I don’t know if this one is any better than the one we’re leaving behind.

“I’ve told you a little about how we first got together. It just went from there. We went to the same college. Got a house together before we finished sophomore year. We wanted to spend every second together, and that was the only way. Her dorm was very strict and my roommate? Well, let’s just say he was creepy and made her feel uncomfortable. We were spending so much each month on hotel rooms so we could be with each other; we just decided to rent a house instead.” I laugh at the memory. “We actually saved money with renting.”

She laughs too but doesn’t speak.

“I went to work for my father after college. She went to school longer than I did. She was an LPC at a children’s advocacy center.”

“LPC?” She asks.

“Licensed Professional Counselor,” I answer. “She spoke with and counseled children who had been abused, both physically and sexually.”

“You guys didn’t have kids?” Her question is just that, a question. She’s not grilling me or trying to put me on the spot, but that doesn’t change the fact that it does. I feel like the spotlight is shining right down on me.

“Savannah didn’t want children. She said she saw such pain and horrendous stuff at work. She couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world where it could be victimized.”

The silence seems to stretch on forever. “But what did you want?” she whispers.

“I wanted Savannah,” I answer.

In truth? I always wanted children. We argued about it more than once. It was a conversation we’d had on more than one occasion. Before we got married, she couldn’t wait to have my baby. Then she started her job, and all talks of children were off the table. She’d never consider it again.

If we’d had a baby, I’d still have some part of her left, and maybe life wouldn’t be so hard right now.

Don’t even try to pretend that you aren’t taking other liberties to keep her memory alive.

I shift my weight under her, so she knows I want to get up. She sits up but stays on the couch beside me. I turn my body on the couch, placing both feet on the floor, and stare into the fire.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she says softly at my side.

“You didn’t, it’s just…” I run my hands roughly through my hair. “I got a lot of shit I have to work through. I haven’t really been successful at dealing with all of this shit.”

She just nods gently and looks back into the fire. “I’m going to go to bed. It’s getting late.” She stands and turns toward the stairs.

“Yeah, I think I’ll turn in too,” I say and stand beside her.

We walk up the stairs and linger briefly outside her door. I want to grab her hand and take her to my room with me and just hold her all night, but I can’t tell if it’s something that she wants.

“Goodnight, London,” I say softly as she reaches for her door knob.

“Goodnight, Kadin.” She closes the door behind her without another word.

I feel like I fucked something up between us but have no clue how or what it even was. I got to my room and made sure the door is cracked in case she wants to join me later, and I pray she does. I sleep better when she’s near.

I don’t know why he freaked out when I asked about kids. It was a simple question. It flowed easily into the conversation. He’s in his thirties. Don’t married people usually have kids by this time?

It felt so good lying in his arms, and I never wanted to get up. Life seems simple here with him, no other outside influences. I know it can’t last forever. He’s not mine; he made sure I knew that.
Why am I even thinking that?

It’s your MO
. My mind answers.

Jump from one guy straight to the next. No pause in between. No time on my own to see if I can even make it by myself. The thought terrifies me, almost as much as sleeping with a man I have no future with; a man who has been nothing but upfront about what is going on.

I didn’t miss the brief pause at the top of the stairs like he wanted to join me or ask me to join him in his room. I did the only thing I could think to do at the time, and that’s to run. Get away from him to avoid whatever happened downstairs and tomorrow I will just pretend like it never happened.
Classic London.

Today has been one of the most emotionally draining days of my life. I’m exhausted yet I’m tossing and turning in this bed and sleep is evading me at every turn. Frustrated, I get out of bed and pad quietly to the door. Opening it slowly I look across the hall, and notice Kadin’s bedroom door is cracked.

I wonder if I can slide into his bed and then leave by morning time like he did and him not notice.

Deciding to do it even if he does catch me I tiptoe across the hall and stick my head in his door. His room is extremely dark, but I feel my way along from memory of being in here earlier.

“Hey,” he whispers just as I draw my knee up to climb on the bed.

I freeze, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. If I pretend to be invisible then maybe I will be.

He chuckles softly. “Come here,” he says huskily.

I climb on the bed and under the covers he’s holding up for me. I lie across his chest without even being invited and wrap my arm around his waist.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I explain.

“Me either,” he acknowledges and begins to run a calming hand up and down my spine.

I almost tell him that I’m so used to being in bed with someone and that’s why I’m having trouble falling asleep, but I don’t think that would be well received. I don’t want him to think I miss Trent because I don’t. Well, not as much as I probably should considering we’d been together for six years.

I’m not surprised how fast I settle into him and how quickly I grow relaxed, my eyes fluttering closed and my breathing calming.

I’m right on the cusp of sleep when he whispers, “I don’t miss her as much when you’re in my arms.”

I smile against his chest and welcome unconsciousness.

I wake to the feel of Kadin’s fingers grazing my sex over my panties. I didn’t even bother getting dressed last night when I snuck in here. A tank top and a tiny pair of panties are all I have on, and if the feel of Kadin’s thick, bare cock against my thigh is any indication he went to bed with even less than I did.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly, noticing that I’m no longer completely asleep.

I smile and nod. Then I stretch as inconspicuously as possible to increase the pressure his fingers have on me. He chuckles lightly; obviously not as inconspicuous as I’d hoped.

I watch him with heavily lusty eyes as he slides my panties to the side and sweeps his large finger over me, coating his digit with the arousal he must have conjured before I woke up. He bites his lip, and it makes me moan.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs to himself. I smile hearing the words I’m not sure he meant to vocalize.

His head sweeps down, and his wicked tongue lashes out at the nipple straining against my tank top. This man is sex personified and almost has me coming in a matter of minutes with very little effort. As much as I’d love to come apart right now, I also want to please him just as much.

My center clenched at the memory of him in my mouth yesterday. I’m nearly drooling to do it again.

I shift out from under him and push him onto his back. I know he’s allowing me to do it. There’s no way I’d ever have a chance to overpower him. He falls to the center of his bed and smirks at me. A look that says ‘now what are you going to do with me?’

I nip his chin with my teeth then run my tongue from his ear to his shoulder, stopping my mouth periodically to taste his skin with a closed mouth, gently sucking at his skin but making sure not to mark him. He’s gripping the sheet with both hands like he’s fighting the urge to take control of the situation, but he also turns his head and moans slightly.

Closing my lips, I run them over the softness of his chest hair, flicking my tongue out at his nipple as I inch lower. He jerks slightly, and it makes me smile. Feeling adventurous, I nip at it with my teeth. His moan is louder, this time, so I lick and bite him exactly how I like my nipples to be stimulated. It seems he’s a fan of it too.

I work my way further down his body, making sure to drag my highly sensitive breasts over his skin. I line them up perfectly and tilt my head down to watch his thick erection peeking through the top. The friction of his hot skin on mine is glorious. He groans, loudly, when I open my mouth and take him to the back of my throat from the very first contact. I’m rewarded with a quick burst of precome, and I swallow it down like it’s a lifesaving liquid. I groan at the taste as I drag my suctioned mouth to the tip of him.

I make the mistake of looking up at him on my next downward stroke. I grow still on him when I see the lust in his eyes. They’re heavy and hardly open; his lips are parted slightly, and short puffs of breath are escaping from his mouth. He’s clearly just as hot for me as my body is for him. The cold air on my wet, overheated center is reminding me of what I’m missing.
What I need
.