Crazy Love (27 page)

“Dammit, Monroe, this better be Patience’s phone.” I snatched the cell from his hand, and my shoulders fell when I saw Jayse had taken a picture of his designer jean-clad ass and had been plugging his digits into the bartender’s phone. “What the hell are you doing? Are you fucking mental?”

“Would you relax, warden?” Jayse drawled, plucking the phone from my hand and sliding it across the bar.

“Are you
trying
to get yourself dumped?” I scowled at him, and he plopped down on the bar stool like an angst-ridden teen. His petulant expression fanned my temper. “Be a man and break up with Dale if you wanna be a manwhore.”

“You know what I don’t need?” Jayse had his flip switched to the ultra-bitch setting. “I don’t need sex advice from
you
. When was the last time you got some, Annie?”

“Screw you,” I shot at him, stunned by how much his words hurt me. He knew my past; it wasn’t that different from his own. Jayse’s dad died when he was little, and his family had been homeless for three years after that. Though he’d never shared the gory details, he’d strongly implied more than once that he’d been abused as well. Since the moment we’d met, he and I had clicked. We looked out for one another. We called each other on our bullshit and kept each other in line.

“No, screw you,” he shot back and then erupted in a catty chuckle. “Oh…that’s right; you don’t screw anyone, do you sweetie?”

I slapped him across the face so hard my hand stung. I spun away and walked off, but not before glimpsing his dark eyes spark with anger and surprise. I nearly plowed into Patience, who had to have witnessed the whole incident, as I strutted back to the table where Randall, Dale, and Sam were all having what seemed like a carefree conversation.

“We should go.” Something in my voice caused Sam’s head to snap in my direction. He stood and snatched up his jacket.

“Is everything all right?” Randall’s enforcer voice he’d used with the bodyguards was back full force. He was reading my face. Dale paled with concern.

“I’m great.” My sharp comment caused Dale’s eyes to narrow, and he stood. Unable to watch the fallout, I walked off into the dark, and soon Sam was at my side. The feel of his strong hand on the small of my back allowed me to take a much needed deep breath.

He gave me time to walk off some of the adrenaline coursing through my system, and we were all the way back to the planked walkway when he finally spoke. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m done talking.” I pushed him against the guardrail and pulled his mouth down to mine. He recovered quickly from his initial surprise, and his hands were in my hair seconds later as our tongues touched. His salty, tart taste made me lightheaded, and I pressed the full length of myself against him.

He pulled his mouth away as his hand slipped inside the low neckline of my dress. His calloused thumb caressed my nipple, and the slightly scratchy sensation made me tingle low in my belly. I sighed as his wet kisses trailed from my jaw to my collarbone. His hands gripped my ass, and he picked me up, my legs squeezing around him before I was consciously aware I was doing it. With one arm I clung to his muscular shoulders while the other tugged at his thick hair. He swung around and set me on the guardrail, pushing his groin between my legs. One hand was still on my ass and the other down my top and I knew if I didn’t stop him, our first time would be right here out in the open. Our friends at the restaurant could come back any time, and the thought of Violet or Trip bringing Maisie down to the ocean sobered me up instantly.

“Sam. Stop,” I whispered, and he pulled away with curious, glassy eyes. “Let’s get to the house. I don’t want the others to walk up and see this.”

I thought he might get pissed, but he laughed. “Good. We can take a shower together. No offense, but you taste like bug spray.”

I laughed at his frankness, and he helped me down from the guardrail. Every cell of my body felt ripe and engorged, and I think he felt the same since we practically power-walked back to the house. As we opened the sliding glass door, he turned to me.

“Which room are you in?”

“The second floor. First door on the right.” I replied.

“I’m just across the hall,” he replied with a smirk. “Trip’s got a twisted sense of humor.”

We climbed the stairs to the second floor. He opened his door first and then mine. His had a king sized bed, but mine had an en suite bath.

“We have a winner.” He gestured to my room like a game show host, and I shushed him. That’s when we heard the strangest thing. We paused, both listening intently. The all-too familiar sound of mattress springs squeaking rhythmically drifted from the room at the end of the hall. The master bedroom. Our eyes met…then widened.

“Oh my fucking God,” he whispered as we both realized it had to be Trip and Violet.

“Well, that was easy,” I whispered back as he practically shoved me across the threshold into my room. “Where’s Maisie?”

“She has a fairy princess room that takes up half the third floor.” He closed the door behind him, and when we could still hear the mattress spring symphony, he switched on the radio on the bedside table. I snorted appreciatively, but my smile evaporated as Sam began to unbutton his shirt. Unlike last time, the lamp was on, so I got to fully appreciate the impressive view as he reached over his head and tugged his undershirt off. The definition of his body impressed me enough that the first thought I had was to snap some pics with my cell.

Remembering I wasn’t just a spectator, I kicked off my sandals and unzipped the side panel of my dress. His eyes never left me as he unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off. The thin fabric of his boxers could barely contain how ready he was, and like a kid on Christmas, I was anxious to see what was in that stocking.

I was in only panties now, and I suddenly felt the urge to cover my breasts with my hands. It was the way his eyes seemed to see all of me at one. No…into me. The connection we shared was powerful and very overwhelming.

He stepped forward and pulled me to him, his eyes ensnaring mine. I started to say something—I’m not even sure what-- but he covered my mouth with his. He lips were full, soft, and perfectly matched with mine. The sandalwood scent of him filled my nostrils, and when he pulled his lips away, his stubble made me shiver as it scratched the sensitive skin of my neck and chest. When his tongue darted over my nipple, I stumbled back toward the bathroom with him still attached to my breast. My breath came out in small gasps as he switched to my other breast, sucking it hungrily, as if attuned to every sound that escaped me. His mouth returned to mine, and his kisses grew more and more urgent. As I ran my hand across the smooth skin of his rock- hard chest, I could feel his heart thudding under my palm.

He put a hand on the bathroom door behind me, and when we tumbled through, we were greeted with no shower, but an oversized claw foot tub. Instantly, I recalled my bathtub dream and though I didn’t think it were possible, I felt even wetter.

“So much for a shower.” Sam’s words were practically a growl, as he swept me into his arms and carried me back to the bed. He lowered me onto the comforter, and his show of strength was so hot that I tugged at the waist of his boxers, desperate to have him inside me. His hand slid up my thigh and under the fragile material of my panties, and the moment I felt his finger slide into me, it was as if I’d plunged headfirst into an icy pond.

I froze, every muscle in my body suddenly rigid and tense. My mouth went dry, and I felt my heart leap into my throat. I wanted to beg him to stop, but my words were caught. I stared trembling. I felt my arms go numb and dropped them to my sides. Sam pulled his mouth from mine and leaned over the edge of the bed.

He pulled a condom from his jeans pocket, but when he turned back to look at me, the smiled left his face, and the condom fell from his hands and floated like a feather onto the bedspread.

“What’s wrong?” He collapsed onto the mattress, his eyes narrowing as he propped himself up on one elbow. “Did I hurt you?”

I tried again to speak, but a sob came out instead. I felt like I was trapped inside a soundproof prison, but the cage was my own traitorous body. I really wanted to be with Sam.
I needed
him to touch me, to hold me and
connect
with me. But the muscle memory my monster left behind overruled all my wants and wishes. I raised my shaky hands to my face and hid behind them. Something sprung free inside me, and I erupted in tears as I felt all the wheels fly off at the same time. My emotions were overpowering…crippling. Along with my innocence,
he’d
stolen this from me, too. That bastard had taken my ability to enjoy Sam and to allow him to enjoy me. I couldn’t contain the feral moan that escaped my lips. I’m not sure how long this went on because when the patchwork fabric of your soul is it torn in two, it seems to happen in slow motion.

I was sure by the time I pulled myself together enough to remove my hands from my tear-stung eyes Sam would be gone. Instead, I felt a comforter placed on me and his arms around me. He kissed my hair and stroked it, and I felt my entire being unclench in that second. I felt like a pile of jelly as I collapsed into him. As my breathing began to steady, I had the chance to mentally scold myself for being such a hot mess.

Wow, Annie. That was sexy.

The sherbet hues of dawn shifted the color of the sky, and as the last bit of the blissful insensibility that is sleep slipped from my weary mind, I bolted up in bed. The sheet fell from my bare body, and I snatched it up, twisting it in a knot between my naked breasts. Reluctantly, I turned my head to the right and saw that Reg was awake. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me. Though he’d never once smoked in the house even on his drunkest day, he held a lit cigarette in his right hand.

Seeing his scars from the fire for the first time, my breath caught painfully. I found myself ambushed by their beauty; only Reg could manage to perfectly burn himself. The remnants of his excruciating debacle matched his tattoos with astounding accuracy. A Monarch-worthy result that, as with all things regarding my ex-husband, mesmerized me. I nearly succumbed to temptation and reached out to touch his damaged flesh. I hated that I wasn’t there to nurse him and shower him with all the love and energy he deserved. But I’d been all tapped out by then and working through the final stages of my grief. Losing Reg to alcohol was like losing a limb. No matter how clean the cut and how long I was without him, his phantom pain would always haunt me.

Still sore from hours of raw animalistic sex, I crawled gingerly across the mattress until I could kneel behind him and wrap my arms around him. I pressed my cheek to his grafted skin and my naked chest to his back. I breathed slow deep breaths, matching my rhythm with his. Reg was my missing other half, and the only time I was at perfect peace was when we were intertwined. Sadly, it was also when I waged my bloodiest wars.

His hand rested on top of mine and the wings of my heart flapped as if preparing to soar. Alarmed, I sat back and severed the connection. I was afraid of him and also tempted to slip my hands around his throat. The story of our engagement party and Sam’s real father was a tragic one, but it hadn’t needed to be. I’d been his fiancé and his wife not much after that. Had he taken his vows to
me
as seriously as the promises to his father, we’d probably be fighting about names for our third baby. Instead we sat here naked, clinging to the tattered shreds of our dignity after stupidly tumbling into bed together.

At first, the night before had all the trappings of closure. After the others decided to track down the birthday boy, Maisie claimed to be hungry again. The three of us pulled out leftovers and had what resembled a family dinner around the dining room table of what should have been our weekend getaway home. The bittersweet moment was punctuated when my cranky daughter decided to throw a tantrum about wanting a second helping of cake and ice cream. Trip handled her expertly, with the same casual grace he used to use on me, and talked her into a story instead. She begged him to read her favorite book to her in her canopy bed, and two and a half storybooks later, she was out like a light.

We tiptoed downstairs and went onto the wrap around porch for round two of confessions and apologies. Reg laughed as he confessed his and Annie’s plan for him to get me back and explained how Sam overheard his fight with Wakefield outside the gala. He said when I saw him struggling by the bar afterward…that
that
was the most tempted he’d ever been to have a drink. And he’d found the inner strength to walk away dry. He finally felt like he’d turned a corner; sobriety would be his lifestyle, not a passing fad. And I believed him. Because
he
believed it, and I knew that had been the missing link all the times before.

“I’m glad, Reg.” I’d told him, and though my smile felt real, it also felt
really
dismal. “I wish…”

I trailed off, knowing we shouldn’t go down that road. Our marriage had been a series of tragic mistakes. Looking back, our entire relationship had been insanity blended with carnal sex and topped off with brandy infused whipped topping.