Seven Days (14 page)

With our middle of the night encounter still fresh, my cock woke me up screaming at me to take her again. It was my brain that reminded me it wasn’t smart to knock up a girl I’d only known for five days, even if it might be a way to get her to stay. Reluctantly, I’d left her in our hotel room that Thursday morning, the halfway mark of our trip, to procure the necessary supplies to keep her in bed all day. I have had very little time left to convince her that, in spite of what she’d been taught, sex could be mind-blowingly great. It was my job to show her that our previous encounters weren’t simply a fluke. I had to set a new precedent.

Just as I was leaving the store, my phone rang. I knew it couldn’t be Carrie, I’d forgotten to leave my number with her and her sister had their joint cell phone. I’d been informed that Britton was the one with the phone most of the time, so the first time she used it to call her sister, she’d changed the contact information to reflect the name of the person I’d get if I called after our trip concluded. I was surprised to see my mom’s number flashing on the screen, as she rarely took time out of her busy schedule to talk to me.

“Hey, mom,” I answered, throwing our supplies into the passenger seat before pulling myself into the cab.

“I’m so glad I caught you, honey,” she chirped. “I have just a couple of minutes between clients and I forgot to ask if you were going to be joining us at the beach house over Labor Day weekend.”

“I, actually, hadn’t given it much thought,” I lied. I’d given it thought and it wasn’t going to happen. “I think I’m going to be too busy that weekend this year, mom. I just moved here and I think I need to get settled in a bit before I come back for a visit.”

“Oh, honey, I hope this isn’t about Hailey,” she tsked, prompting an eye roll from me.

“No, mom, that was two years ago. I promise, she’s not the reason,” I admonished. The real reason was that I hated my parents’ friends and their thinly veiled arguments over who had more status. Hailey’s parents just happened to be the worst, reminding me why I was
actually
happy I hadn’t ended up marrying into that family.

“I’d feel better if you’d start dating again already,” she said, and I could hear the frown through the phone it was so pronounced.

“As a matter of fact,” I started, pulling into my parking space in front of our hotel. “I have.”

“You’ve met someone already?” my mom asked, her voice disbelieving.

“If all goes well, I’ll come and visit during my fall break, okay?” I tried to compromise.

“Fine,” she conceded. “I have to let you go though, my eleven o’clock is here.”

“Bye, mom. Don’t forget to eat lunch, okay?”

“Oh, honey,” she chuckled. “You know I don’t have time for lunch. Love you!” she called before hanging up.

I was thankful to her client for the distraction of a thousand questions that would all be about Carrie and whether or not I saw churches and children in our immediate future. Even though I was barely twenty-four, and even though she didn’t get married until she was nearly thirty, my mother was dying to become a grandma. She’d barely had time to be a mom when I was younger, how did she expect to find time to visit grandkids when her practice was bigger than ever. The woman thought of retirement as a four letter word.

Shaking off my conversation, I retrieved my bags from the seat and pushed out of the truck. I had one more stop to make before I headed back up to our room for a nice day of presenting my case to the only woman I wanted in my life into the foreseeable future.

We were officially half way through our trip. Three and a half days had passed. Three and a half days remained. Three point five days. 84 hours, the length of time I always strived for to stay awake. 5,040 minutes. 302,400 seconds. This time had both passed and was still ahead of us, and I wasn’t thinking about sleep at the moment.

“Carrie!” Ryan shouted my name through his orgasm, pulling my hips flush with his and stilling my movements on top of him. Sweat from our exertion made his pecs glow in the muted hotel room light, small raised scratches were just starting to bloom on his stomach, courtesy of my nails. I’d seen my handy work on his back that morning and was excited to add to the ways I was able to mark him as mine, even if they weren’t visible to anyone but me.

The sun had finally started to set on our second day in Laughlin and I had failed to leave the room the whole day. Ryan made sure to keep us fed and well stocked in prophylactics. When he left that morning, he lamented that he’d need to pick up both lunch and breakfast while he was gone because he couldn’t stand the thought of me having to get up before dinner. I must say that when he was determined to meet a goal, he seemed to go after it with gusto. His methods of distraction were very persuasive.

“This hotel has three different restaurants and no room service,” he grumbled as he walked out, keys and wallet in hand.

“If you are in your room, you aren’t gambling,” I shouted after him, and his laughter echoed through the hotel hallway as I heard the door latch behind him. I was tempted to shower and dress while he was gone just to mess with him, but I found that having actual orgasms during sex could affect your ability to walk a straight line the next day.

Hours later, the sun was starting to set through the curtains, shifting the natural light in the room. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I saw dinner time was getting close, and for once, I was starving. My head fell into the hollow of his neck as I fought to catch my breath. Inhaling deeply, I reveled in the scent that my brain had morphed into something repulsive nearly a whole day earlier. His earthiness, my lavender, and the combination of our sweat and sex invaded my senses, showing me that we were intoxicating when mixed.

“God, I love your hair,” he told me, twirling a loose tendril that my sweat had adhered to my face.

“It’s filthy right now, how can you love it?” I propped my chin on his chest with my fingers interlaced. Looking up at him, I decided that having his softening cock still buried inside me with this view was definitely something I could get used to, even if I shouldn’t. I supposed I should’ve probably gotten up and let him dispose of the condom, but I wanted to enjoy the fullness for a few more minutes.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, tenderly, his eyes on his fingers as they moved over the stringy strands of my hair. “It always feels like silk and smells like lavender.”

“Thank you,” I accepted, even though I wanted to argue his words further. “I love your skin,” I disclosed, wanting to shift the conversation away from me. “It’s so warm and alive.”

“You touch a lot of dead skin?” he asked, his brows knit in confusion. I could tell he’d wanted it to sound like a joke, but was afraid it might be true. Maybe I just needed to keep my mouth shut instead of trying to find a way to deflect focus. It always seemed to backfire.

“Not dead as such, but definitely not like yours,” I hedged, wishing I’d stopped myself from telling Ryan the truth. Why couldn’t have I just said: “It’s so smooth?” That would’ve sounded contrived and stupid. Not to even mention, he’d have seen right through that reason. Junkie skin was always so sallow and clammy. They seemed to have a perpetual layer of cold sweat, even in the dead of summer, but I couldn’t exactly share that as my justification either. “I’m sad to say that most of my history involves people more like your friend, Robbie,” I confessed, hoping it would be enough information for the moment.

“Um,” he bit his lip. I could tell he wanted to press me for more of an explanation, but he must’ve seen the pleading look in my eyes to drop it, because he decided to switch tacks, “get your amazing ass out of our bed and get ready for dinner. I got you something when I was out earlier.”

“What?” I sat up, my hands planted in the center of his chest. “What did you get?”

“It’s in the closet, why don’t you go see?” he smirked, folding both of his hands behind his head in a self satisfied pose while I climbed off of him and walked to the entry of the room, which was a small hallway not visible from the bed. Sliding back the door, I found a beautiful pale green sundress that we’d seen in one of the boutiques in a hotel further down the strip. Somehow, I’d known what I’d find when I opened the closet, in spite of my protestations the day before.

“I told you that this was too expensive,” I frowned at the dress and stomped back to where he was, just standing from the bed. I wanted it, but I didn’t really have anywhere to wear it. After Britton and I moved away, I definitely wouldn’t have time to go out, so there was no way to let him justify the purchase. Deep down, I knew that he was still trying to make up for my reaction the night before. My sexual freak out wasn’t his fault or his mistake to correct. I couldn’t help but feel guilty that he thought otherwise. I wanted to tell him this, but I didn’t want to call attention to it again.

“Ridiculous,” he admonished, walking past me to take care of the condom in the bathroom. His immediate dismissal of my feelings hurt. The way he made sure to connect with my eyes as he walked by told me he was gearing up for a hell of an argument to get me to agree to the new clothing.

After hearing the toilet flush and the water run, he reappeared in the doorway. Leaning against the frame in all his naked glory, he studied me. Apparently, his decision was to completely disarm me with his incredible body and the sincerity pulsing in his eyes that shone under the lights from the bathroom like whiskey being refracted through a glass in the sun. “I decided this morning that I’m taking you out on a date tonight.”

“Isn’t this what we’ve been doing all week?” I countered, mirroring his pose, but against the wall opposite him.

“Well—”

“We had a picnic lunch overlooking the Mogollon Rim, we hiked through cold tubes formerly filled with molten lava and toured a haunted hotel. Plus, last night, you took me for sushi. That was fortunate, because I try not to put out before the third date,” I ticked off on my fingers. I didn’t know what date I would usually give it up after; I’d never been on a real date before. Though, I couldn’t tell him that on top of the news that I’d never had truly consensual sex before him, otherwise, he might get a very clear picture of my past. Part of me was excited by his invitation, but the other part was irritated that he thought he’d slept with me without taking me out first.

“I see,” he nodded his head at me, his gaze steady as he processed my words. “I agree with this assessment of our time together, which means that tonight, I need to take you out to continue the tradition,” he argued as if he’d already anticipated my claim and new how to beat it soundly in rebuttal. Maybe he should’ve become a lawyer after all. “We haven’t left this room all day, and I want a steak. We’ve got major protein stores to restock,” he finished, patting his stomach, which growled as if on cue. “See? You’ve got no choice but to come with me.”

“I don’t have any make up with me,” I said, trying to come up with another excuse to coax him in a less expensive direction.

“I can call that spa we passed yesterday, see if they have a last minute appointment?” he invalidated yet another defense. Damn, he was good at this. He didn’t even look winded or put out in trying to find a way to convince me. I was so far out of my league with him, even though I wasn’t about to agree to his latest suggestion.

“No,” I shot down. “I told you, I don’t like the
Pretty Woman
feeling of this whole thing,” I said, walking away from the beautiful dress in the closet again to my bag, hoping I could piece together a passable date outfit for the steak house. Looking back toward the closet door, I noted that my dress wasn’t his only purchase that morning, as I took in the arms of a sport coat that was concealed in the darkness. Closing my eyes to the purchases, I took a deep breath and returned to my open duffle. I had to have something presentable.

“That’s a terrible comparison,” he scoffed from behind me. “You aren’t some kind of whore that triggers my hero complex.”

I was glad my back is too him when he uttered that, because I’m pretty sure my entire face went pale. I had to fight back the gasp at how close his description was to exposing the truth of me. I was a whore. I knew the only thing that had kept my sister and me from foster care or life on the street was my vagina. How did that
not
make me a whore? I was reminded on a weekly and sometimes a nightly basis that I was bought and paid for, and I was constantly in debt to someone.

“I— I know,” I lied, trying not to choke on the words. How could I let someone so good get to know me like this, knowing nothing good would ever come from it? I blinked back the tears crowding my vision in defeat. As much as I knew I didn’t deserve him, I couldn’t bring myself to walk away either. Part of me craved what he could offer me, a chance to see if I was capable of having more, of having something good, even for just a little while.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I turned away from the duffle. “Look, I’ll wear the dress, but you have to be happy with however I can fashion this rat’s nest into with a hair brush and the complementary, mounted blow dryer,” I conceded.

“Let’s do this,” he clapped his hands and rubbed them together in excitement, grabbing the dress from the hanger and shoving it at me.

“I need to shower first,” I said, slowly, taking the dress and throwing it on the bed, still not entirely sure I was making the right decision.