Midnight (McKenna Chronicles Book 1) (18 page)

Falling, his full weight presses me into the bed, and with
his head cradled in my neck I savor his pulsating body. I have never felt this
good. I didn’t know having sex could feel like this, could make my body respond
in such an uninhibited, glorious way.
With
trembling muscles I squeeze my legs around him, holding him close.
In a minute he lifts his head, a small
smile touching his lips and his eyes. 

“Hi.”

My heart free falls and I grin in return. “Hi,
yourself.” 

His mouth finds mine, an endearing connection, our tongues
gentling as they meet in a sweet duel. After a moment he pulls out of me.
Wincing, I close my eyes from the loss. It
felt so perfectly right to have him inside of me.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern etched in his voice. 

I smile.
“Perfect.”
Because I am. Tonight with Colin, this was
my first time.
This was the first time
it’s felt good, and true, and beautiful. This is the first time I’ve made love
with a man and I’m perfect, absolutely, astonishingly perfect. 

Planting a quick kiss on his shoulder, I run my nose against
his skin, inhaling his scent. He is beautiful. Rolling over, he pulls me with
him, tucking me into his side. I wrap my arms around his stomach, snuggling
into his length. We remain this way for a long time, not speaking, a warm,
comforting silence covering the room. 

In time, I wiggle down, resting my
 
palm on his abdomen and my chin on top
of that. He's awake.

“I've never felt like this before, Colin. That . . . it was .
. . well, it was fantastic. Will it always be like this with us?” I watch him
and how he's concentrating on me. A sliver of light slices through the doorway,
just enough to illuminate his eyes as he searches mine, penetrating the depths
of them as if he can see into my soul. I thought he might smile at my question,
but I was wrong. A mask slowly settles in place, no emotion visible. Picking up
a section of my hair, he fans it between his fingers, staring at it and
dropping it back to my shoulder.

“Go to sleep, Charlie. Morning will be here before you’re
ready for it and with it, maybe you’ll find the answer to your question.”

Hmm, maybe that means he'll be my wake-up call
. I
don't ask, but remain silent as the night stretches before me. Sliding my cheek
against his skin, I burrow down and let the darkness fall.

~

I
startle awake. For a moment I can’t remember where I am and then the sweet, hot
memories flood back. Rolling to my side, I reach for Colin, but he’s gone—the
bed cold and empty.

Moving
elicits a tempting pang. Stretching, my hands above my head, toes pointed, I
revel in the slow ache present in every muscle. Smiling happily I sit up, the
sheet falling, exposing my breasts.

Colin’s
discarded tuxedo shirt is now draped over the chair in the room. Slipping into
it, I wrap it around my waist while walking into the suite. The only light on
is a small lamp on the desk where Colin sits, reading through a brief of some
sort, making notes in the corner. My heart stumbles and finds a new rapid beat
at the sight of him, pulling at his lower lip with his fingers. I stand in the
doorway, hidden in shadow, watching the rise and fall of his bare chest. It's
unreal that I'm with this brilliant, passionate man.  

He
looks up, eyes dark and unreadable. “Did I wake you?” he asks without
inflection. I frown at his tone—affectionate Colin is gone, Mr. President
securely in place.

“No,
I just woke up and you weren’t there. I missed you.”

“I’m
working, Charlie. Go back to bed.” He’s stern and unfeeling, head falling back
down into his papers, dismissing me.

Certainly
he can’t be mad; he couldn’t be upset with me. I walk to stand behind him,
hoping to entice him back to bed.
Hmm, I would like to get him back to bed
and keep him awake.
Leaning down, I grin into his neck and run my hands
down the front of his chest, rubbing his nipples with my fingers. He tenses
beneath my touch; a quick intake of breath tells me I have his attention. “Come
to bed,” I whisper, nipping his earlobe with my teeth.

His
hands reach mine, which are still fondling his chest. Pinning my fingers
between his tightly he removes them and with the same stern tone scolds me. “I
told you to get back to bed. I don’t have time for you.”

His
words sting. They’re cruel to my fragile psyche after my experience with him
just hours ago. I grab my hands from him as if they’ve been burned, wrapping
them around my belly. Before he can see the hurt in my eyes, I turn and dart
back to the bedroom. Falling into the bed, I bury my head in the pillow. What
just happened? I don’t understand. We had mind-blowing, fantastic sex hours
ago, and now he dismisses me as if I’m an errant employee? Is that what I
really am? An employee he’ll fuck when it pleases him, dismiss when it suits
him? His words from yesterday come back to me sharply.
I have nothing to
give, Charlie. I'm a shell of the man I once was.

I
don’t think I can do this. It’s one thing to have unattached sex; disrespect is
intolerable. I won’t allow him to treat me poorly because he’s incapable of
caring. I do deserve more than that.

Dragging
myself from the bed, I go in search of the clothes I had on last night. I throw
them into my bag and grab a clean pair of panties, a bra, and quickly dress in
pajama pants and T-shirt. Sweeping into the room where Colin is working, I grab
my purse from the table, leaving him without a glance.

I
run down the hall to the room I’d barely looked at late yesterday afternoon.
Pushing the door open, I throw myself down on the bed, this time allowing the
hurt to surface, escaping in tremors similar to those that followed my almost
attack. Tears threaten, but I push them at bay. I won’t let him bring me to
tears. I won’t; I have to be strong, but for the first time in years I want to
howl into the pillow. My heart wrenches as endless pain cascades through my
body. What have I done?

THE
MORNING LIGHT
comes all too soon, as does the recollection of last night’s
events. I groan, rolling over onto my back. My entire body is sore, as if I’ve
worked out for eight hours with an Olympic wrestler. I stand corrected; like I
worked out with Colin McKenna. Tears coat my eyes when the reality of the
situation weighs in, crushing.

The
phone startles me, and I give it a death stare Ella would be proud of. There
are only a few people it could be, and none of them are at the top of my list
of people-to-chat-with, especially Colin. I assume it’s not him, given his
callousness from the night before, so I pick it up.

“Charlie
Carter,” I say with conviction. I should at least pretend I’m a tough-as-nails
bitch.

“Charlie.”

Oh
shit, it’s him. “Yes?” I say, chillingly. You want to play, fucker? I can play.

“Charlie,
I’m stopping by your room to talk. I’ll be down in five minutes.” He doesn’t ask,
he demands and it pisses me off even more.

“No,
Colin, you won’t.” There's steel in my tone. “I’ve forgotten last night, as
apparently you did immediately. That’s all I have to say to you. Have a great
day,” I ground out with a heavy dose of sarcasm, slamming the phone down.

Fuck
off, Mr. President.
I fall back into the pillow, breathing hard. Tears fill
my eyes and I struggle to get them under control, the hard-bitch façade cruelly
letting me down in my moment of need. I can’t face him or anyone else.

I
have to formulate a plan; I can’t stay here after all. Shit. If I give up this
assignment I have no work to go home to. Rolling over into my pillow, I let the
hurt flood through me in the only way I know how to release it—slow moving,
wracking tremors that are physically painful. The hazards of the last few days
break in on me, all at once: the factory, the near assault, and Colin, mostly
Colin.

I’m
startled when weight shifts on the bed and I know it’s him. His hand caresses
my hair as if he cares; the heaving shudders wrack my body harder. I don’t want
him to see me like this; I need to get myself together.

I
roll over, pulling away from his grasp, crawling to the opposite corner of the
bed from where he sits. My body stills, and the heaves only periodically
contort my frame. Colin eyes me warily, his face distorted with his own level
of agony.

“I’m
so sorry.”  

I
just stare; there’s nothing to say. “Leave, Colin. I don’t want you here.”

He
flinches as if I’ve slapped him, and a part of me wishes I had the satisfaction
of doing so. Given that, I continue on, “I'm not some whore you can fuck and
discard at your will. I can understand not having a heart to give; I’ve
probably got you beat in that category.” I say it with venom because it’s the
truth.
Let’s compare cold hearts and see who will win you bastard
. “But
what I don’t understand, and will not ever accept, is being treated like a
whore. It has taken me more than fifteen years to repair myself to a level at
which I can successfully make it through the day, and I won't let you destroy
my precarious hold on my self-respect,” I hiss. “Don’t tell me you’re fucking
sorry.”

My
breathing is ragged with ferocious anger. I slide off the bed on the opposite
side from where he sits, keeping my eyes on him. My words lanced him at each
turn; his face is haggard. I move toward the door, collecting myself, gathering
my dignity. “I’d like you to leave now.”

Colin
rises from the bed, stepping forward he follows me with a cautious eye. Even
through my anger I can appreciate his beauty, fitted black pants and a white
t-shirt stretched across his chest. His nipples are visible through the fabric
and I have to force myself to look away. His face doesn’t make it any easier,
too handsome for his own damn good. He’s standing before me now, gazing deep
into my eyes, his change in an instant from wary to hot, aflame with desire.

“No,”
I say, moving back, but the wall is there.

Before
I can say anything more, his mouth captures mine, almost painfully, but with so
much passion it shoots straight to my newly-awakened libido.

I
can’t resist him. My hands grip his hair, pulling at it hard. My mouth on his
muffles his moan. He rips my shirt up to my neck, pulling the cups of my bra
down, exposing my breasts, fondling and tugging at my sore nipples. I bite his
lower lip in response, and then suck on it to take the sting away.

He’s
pushed my pants and panties to the floor. As I step out of them he grabs my
leg, hiking it high on his hip and then he cups me between my thighs, his palm
pressing into my clitoris. I moan, writhing against him. The sensation is
beyond pleasure. He slips in a finger, followed by another, and I buck into his
hand, pushing him further inside.

“Colin,”
I cry, as he begins to move in and out, hitting the perfect spot each time. His
mouth is on my neck, a full arsenal destroying any chance I could stop him from
taking me. Lips, teeth, tongue, he uses them all, sucking, biting, soothing,
from the hollow of my throat to the dip behind my ear. Bending low, he utilizes
the same weapons on my breasts and he holds no prisoners, attacking with an
intensity I feel everywhere. When his teeth clamp down on my nipple, my leg
shakes and threatens to collapse. He steadies me with a hand on my waist,
holding me close.

A
low hum, a slow vibration, starts to build at the base of my spine. As it
spreads I chase it, rocking my hips into his hand, seeking what I need for the
steady thrum to become an all-out explosion. He stills and pulls his fingers
from me.

“No,
damn you.” I push against him. Lifting his head from my breast, our eyes meet.
His are pitched to midnight drowning in so many emotions I can’t name them.

“Not
yet,” he says, leaning in to nip my bottom lip. “I need to be inside you when
you come. I need to feel you around me.”

“Then
get there.” I rub myself over his erection, watching his reaction as I do. The
narrowing eyes, parting lips and sharp intake of breath embolden my further
action. Squeezing my hand between us, I pull his zipper down, pushing his pants
and boxer briefs past his hips. I grab his erection, running my hand up and
down his length.

His
moan fills the silence a second before his mouth crushes mine, rough and needy.
It's a deep tangled kiss, at first driven by his passion, transitioning into my
control. I want him to think of me every time he pulls his bottom lip. The tug
of his fingers will forever elicit flashbacks of the sharp bite of my
teeth—every . . . single . . . time. But more than anything, I want to punish.
Injure him, just as I was wounded by his dismissal. I want him to feel my own
form of cruelty in the bruise on his lips, so I ravage his mouth until he pulls
away, gulping for air.

“Wrap
your legs around me, baby,” he commands, breathless. I do as I’m told and
before I can bring them together around his back, he thrusts into me. Our
groans collide with the same intensity as our hips, impatient need driving us
together.

Just
as we find our rhythm he stops. Holding me still with his hands, he pulls out,
so we’re barely connected. His eyes meet mine.

“How
good does it feel when I’m here?”

I
cry out when he slams into me. “Oh, God.” I groan again, and my head rolls back
against the wall as my body adjusts to him. It’s too much, he’s too much, and I
can’t find my breath. It races ahead of me, my chest rising and falling as I
try to catch it.

Rounding
his hips, be brushes my clitoris, before withdrawing again. “Feel this; feel
me, Charlie.”

Once
more he’s there, deep and pulsing. “So good . . . Please . . .”

“I'm
going to make sure you remember what it feels like when I'm inside of you; all
day, every day, you'll feel me here.”