Love Me Like That (16 page)

I pull my mouth off of him, and he looks momentarily disappointed until I lick up his shaft and begin to lick my way back up his body. For the first time since we got started, he releases the sheets and reaches for me. I watch with fascination on my knees as he stands himself up at my center. I’m entranced at the sight, knowing that such an amazing piece of him is fixing to plant itself inside of me.

His other hand grips my hips. “Please go slow,” he begs.

His words draw my attention away from our imminent connection and up to his dreamy chocolate eyes. Slowly I lower myself onto him and watch his face as I take him inside. He hisses loudly, and I smile with feminine triumph at his response.

I place my hands on his wide chest for leverage and raise myself back off of him agonizingly slow, only to sink back down even slower. Delicious torture.

Unable to do as he wishes I arch my back and begin to bounce my hips, sliding him in and out of my aching core faster. I groan; so does he.

“Fuck, London,” he gasps.

I take his praise appreciatively by increasing the speed of my hips. Both of his hands are on my hips and I can tell by his grip that he wants me to slow down, but I just smirk down at him.

“No,” he pants harshly and before I can squeak in surprise he has me flipped over on my back and pinned to the mattress by the weight of his body.

I bite my bottom lip and flutter my eyelashes at him. He laughs which causes his cock to jerk inside of me. I moan in response, closing my eyes.

He lifts some of his weight off of me, and I whimper at the loss. “Are you okay?” He whispers, and I nod marginally. “I don’t want to scare you.” I know he’s afraid I’ll freak out after telling him about the assaults I suffered from Brian. I could never confuse the two, but he doesn’t know that.

He withdraws a fraction, and I close my eyes at the sensation. “Look at me,” he begs. “Know that it’s me pleasing you.” I groan when he drives in deep and swivels his hips, rubbing perfectly inside and out. “Know that I’m the one inside of you.” He shifts back a few inches only to slam back in. “Say it, London.”

I whimper in pleasure. “You,” I whisper.

“My name,” he grunts, sliding slowly in and out from tip to base. “I want to hear it when you come.”

He reaches between us and masterfully flicks his rough fingers against my clit. He’s holding my eyes hostage, daring me to look away.

“Oh please!” I bite my lip in complete blissed-out appreciation of his skills.

“Come for me, London.” It’s a command, not a simple request.

My body obeys immediately. “Kadin! Oh God!”

My core spasms around him, gripping him uncontrollably, simultaneously begging him to continue and stop all in one.

“London,” he groans, rewarding me with his praise for my body and what I’m able to do for him.

He wrenches from my body and releases on my stomach. I smile down at the hot jets of come as they splatter on my body. I’m honored that I can please him.

“Jesus,” he mumbles as he strokes his cock, squeezing the last bit of his orgasm from the tip.

He leans over me on knees and elbows and takes my mouth in a passionate kiss, whispering praise against my lips. I smile as he begins to nip at my chin and neck. I groan when his thickening length grazes my clit.

As much as I’d like for round two to start immediately on the heels of the first round, I’m covered in come and a sticky mess.

“Shower,” I whisper in his ear.

He grumbles, but backs away, pulling me up as he goes. Never releasing my hand, he walks us into his en-suite and turns on the shower. We kiss gently outside of the glass and wait for the steam to rise, informing us that the water is warm enough for us to get in.

He grabs a natural sponge from the built-in cubby and squirts a generous amount of manly smelling shower gel in the center.

“Turn around,” he says huskily, no doubt still ready for round two if the full erection jutting from his hips is any indication.

I falter in my actions, knowing what he’s going to see.

“Turn,” he gently commands. He doesn’t touch me, and I inwardly smile that he’s allowing me to make the choice.

I take a deep breath and turn to face the wall, placing my hands on the tile for support. I wait for the coarse feel of the sponge in his hand, but it never comes. Instead, I feel his hot breath first then the touch of his tender lips as he kisses my shoulder. He trails kisses down my spine until he reaches my scars; then his hands graze gently over where I know the worst of the damage is.

“You’re beautiful.” Kiss. “And brave.” Kiss. “Your scars, they make you beautifully flawed. They make you perfect.”

Tears of happiness stream down my face as this man tells me exactly what I never knew that I needed to hear. Standing in the shower of a cabin, with a man I’ve only known for a few days, I heal completely from every wrong that I’ve suffered. I am whole. I am complete.

With the exception of food, showers, and an amazing round of sex against the wall, we’ve spent the past twenty-four hours in this bed. London’s warm body is wrapped around mine like a second skin. It feels too good; too familiar for only having known her for a handful of days. I know I could stay like this for the duration of my vacation, and that’s exactly why I’m slowly sliding out from underneath her.

Waking up thinking about her?
Bad.
Waking up wanting her?
Bad.
Waking up needing her?
Extremely dangerous.

I throw on a pair of sweats and head downstairs to make coffee. We should probably stay as far away as possible from any beds today.
Didn’t need a bed when you took her against the wall, or when you bent her over in the shower.

My dick twitches in my sweats and my balls grow heavier at the memories. I groan and open the fridge to get some fruit out. I don’t think I’ll ever come back to this cabin and not think about London and the things we’ve done. We both confirmed that sex is all this is, but holy shit is it beyond amazing. I find myself praying another blizzard hits, and we’re stuck here for a month.

The more I hope for that, the more I wonder if she’s only staying because she can’t leave. There’s only one way to find out, and as nervous as I am about it, I know she needs the option of being able to leave. I can’t imagine loving anyone besides Savannah, but I’m also not looking forward to watching London walk away.

It’s bad enough I’ve already started comparing London and Savannah. London cooks, whereas Savannah couldn’t boil water. London doesn’t even take half the time getting ready for the day as Savannah did; I explain this away because London knows she is only going to be around the house and not going out into the public. Savannah snored, and London sleeps very quietly, with only the occasional whimper, but I chalk that up to her abusive past and some things just don’t ever go away.

I shouldn’t compare them at all and every time so far the thoughts have come unbidden. I understand why it does. Savannah and London are the only women I’ve slept with, well sober. The other woman. Fuck, that’s a mess. Maybe knowing I have to go back home and clear that shit up is another reason why I want just to stay here and get lost in London.

It hasn’t snowed now for almost two days, and I know what I have to do even though the outcome may not be what I particularly want.

Picking up my cell phone, I notice that I actually have reception and won’t have to go back upstairs and disturb London to get the satellite phone.

I dial the office, and it’s answered on the second ring. “Hello, Mr. Cole. How can I help you?”

“Hey, Lisa. I need you to arrange a snow plow to come clear the driveway at the cabin and get a car out of the ditch by my front gate.” I hear her typing the note, and I wait for her to finish.

“Time frame?”

“Immediately,” I answer.

“Budget?”

“No matter the cost, Lisa. I just need it cleared.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“No, Lisa. I think that’s it.”

“Should we expect you back before the next storm hits?”

“Next storm?” This sounds promising. “What are the predictions?”

“They’re saying the next will be much worse than the one you got last week. Information online expects it to hit Monday evening.” She provides the information and then remains quiet after that.

“I’ll inform you of my plans as I make them.”

“Very well, sir.”

I have one of the best assistants money can buy. Unfortunately for me, she’s over eight months pregnant and doesn’t plan to come back to work after the baby is born. Finding a new assistant. It’s another thing that has been overlooked in my grief.

I smile as London makes her way into the kitchen. Her light brown hair is piled high on the crown of her head and sticking out all over the place. She even has a crease line from the bed linens on her face, but the sight of her legs under my t-shirt has me rock hard.

“You look great,” I tell her honestly.

She laughs. “You don’t have to lie.”

I take a step away from the counter and look down, showing her how truthful my words were.

“Coffee first, big fella.” She walks to the coffee pot and begins to pour her a cup.

Without even thinking, I’m behind her with my arms wrapped around her waist, my chin resting on her shoulder; the proof of my body’s approval of her is pressed against her back.

“The snow plow will be here today,” I tell her as she adds sugar and creamer to her cup.

“The city is coming out?” She blows over the top of her cup of coffee, cooling it down.

“Not exactly,” I say. “I called and have one coming in.”

Her shoulders fall under my chin. “You trying to get rid of me?” She says it playfully but I can hear the sadness in her tone.

“Hardly, but I also don’t want you to stay only because you’re stuck here.” I release her and turn her gently in my arms. “I actually wanted to talk to you about coming back to Spokane with me.”

Her face lights up, and her eyes begin to sparkle at my words.
Shit.

“Yeah, I mean I have a guest room, and you don’t have anywhere to stay. Figured you could stay there until you find a place of your own.”

And her face falls.

“Oh. I see.” She shrugs and pulls from my grasp, planting a half-smile on her face. “I’ll think about it.”

I refresh my cup of coffee and follow her into the den. She’s upset, and that stresses me out. I glance over at the liquor cabinet and realize I haven’t had a drink since the second night she was here. That’s enough to keep her around right there. Three days, that’s the longest I’ve gone without a drink since Savannah died. The drinking has been a huge part of all of my issues at home. It’s also become my coping mechanism and my way to escape the pain and loneliness.

“How long were you planning on staying out here?” I watch her bring her cup to her lips and take a tentative sip.

“I didn’t really have a specific timeline in mind. I figured I’d stay two weeks. That seemed like long enough to get the board off my back.” There’s no way I’m going to mention the fact that I hadn’t planned on returning at all.

She tilts her head slightly in confusion.

I sigh knowing if she’s going to come back to Spokane with me that I, at least, need to explain shit a little bit.

“Some of the guys at work thought it would be best if I took some time off.” I run my hand over my chin, scratching the stubble I haven’t even thought of shaving in over a week.

“Working too hard so they force a vacation on you?” I can’t help but laugh.

“Not exactly. More like going to work drunk; if I even showed up to begin with.”

She crinkles her nose. “That bad? Like this is more of an ultimatum than a vacation?”

“Exactly,” I say taking too big of a sip of the boiling hot, black coffee in my cup. I wince as the scalding liquid burns my tongue.

“How long have you had a drinking problem?” She looks affronted like she can’t believe the words came out of her mouth. Holding her hands up she says, “Sorry. Not my business. You don’t have to answer that.”

I can’t help but laugh. “London,” I say flatly. “You’ve had my cock down your throat, answering a few questions isn’t a big deal.”