Sugar on the Edge (17 page)

What in the hell am I doing? Agreeing to go out to dinner with Gavin?

Earlier today—in his house—the
way
he took me.

That was it. It was supposed to be done, over. My itch scratched, his itch scratched. I could show him that I was so much more than what he thought and perhaps by doing so, I could prove to myself I had more grit than he gave me credit for.

What I didn’t count on was all of these emotions to swell through me. From the moment I told him I wanted him to fuck me—and yes, I’m still blushing red over that—to this moment, now, that I stand before my mirror, checking my hair and makeup before Gavin arrives to pick me up, I’ve been inundated with fears, insecurities, and doubts. What I did… with him… was absolutely not me.

I’m not that type of girl.

Never have been.

But I can’t deny that experience with Gavin was singularly the most thrilling thing that has ever happened to me in my life. I felt free, beautiful, desired, and sexy. I felt like I held power, even as I was slammed with apprehension when I gave him the go-ahead. It was scintillatingly delicious, and even as I sit here and tell myself that I’m not that type of woman… I want to do it again.

When Gavin finally lifted off my body, pulled away… pulled out, I felt loneliness. Then I felt the product of his desire sliding down my legs, and I was mortified and terrified that we had unprotected sex. I couldn’t believe that I never gave it a single thought. Not once during the entire time he was making love to… no,
fucking
me. I didn’t care. I kind of still don’t care, because had he taken the time to stop… put on a condom, the moment probably would have been broken. It would have been like a raging river slamming against a dam, and we would have most likely stopped once we regained our senses.

The fear of not feeling Gavin—of not giving into those desires and lust—outweighs my fear over having unprotected sex, and I want to bang my head against the sink for ever being so foolish. So stupid.

I had stood up quickly from the table and, even with shaky legs, managed to pull my underwear and jeans up, practically running into the bathroom to clean up. I stared in the mirror above his guest bathroom sink, admiring the flush in my face and the redness on my neck leftover from the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever felt in my life. And I didn’t feel too much regret.

When I walked out of the bathroom, feeling like I had more control over my feelings, Gavin was standing in the kitchen, drinking a bottle of water and watching me like a hawk. Whereas I felt a bit nervous and unsure, he looked like he wanted to eat me up, causing a low throb to start between my legs. He had held the bottle out to me, asking silently if I wanted a drink, but I shook my head and started for the laundry room.

“I’ll pick you up at seven tonight,” he said. “Text me your address.”

I nodded and didn’t say anything in response, but rather went and folded his laundry. When I was done and came back into the kitchen, he was gone, and I didn’t see him the rest of the time I was there cleaning his house.

My front doorbell rings, bringing me out of my memories, and I stare at myself in the mirror. What is this evening going to hold? Is this a “thank you” dinner? A “thanks for letting me fuck you” type of thing? Or does Gavin want something more from me?

Do I want something more from him?

I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know my heart is racing with fear and excitement.

When I open the door, he’s standing there with his hands casually tucked in the pockets of his dark-washed jeans. He’s got on a dark gray sweater and a black leather jacket, making him look edgy and sinful as hell. His eyes rake down me and back up again, appreciation clear. “You look beautiful,” he says, and I try not to preen under his gaze.

He had said to dress casual for the night and I took him at his word, choosing a pair of boot-cut, dark denim jeans paired with a deep purple turtleneck. I matched a camel-colored, short-waisted, leather blazer along with matching boots in the same color. The finishing touch was a scarf of melded colors of purple, blue, green, and brown that I tied twice, but loosely, around my neck, so it draped about a quarter ways down my chest.

“Thank you,” I say with a smile, and then I try for a little cheekiness. “You look pretty hot yourself.”

He steps forward, across the threshold, and invades every bit of my personal space. Running a finger along my jaw, he murmurs, “Not as hot as you bent over my kitchen table this morning.”

Oh, geez.

My insides instantly melt, my bones liquefy, and I have to take a step back to clear the fog from my brain. Gavin is all too aware of the effect he has on me because he laughs softly and then grabs my hand. “Come on. I’m starved.”

We’ve been making small talk, and I think it’s because we’re both nervous. Well, because I’m nervous. I don’t think Gavin has an apprehensive bone in his body. He exudes confidence and control. He humors me when I ask question after question about his writing career, even admitting that he’s changing the character he based on me in his manuscript. He named her Honey, which is a stupid name in my opinion, but he said he wanted it to be clear she was “sweet” …like me.

I thought that was kind of sweet, so then the name Honey grew on me a bit.

We’re eating at one of the better seafood restaurants in Nags Head, and I just ordered the fried oyster platter. Gavin wrinkles his nose and says, “Why do you North Carolinians fry all your seafood?”

I shrug my shoulders and say, “Everything tastes better fried.”

Gavin disagrees and orders a baked sea bass entree with a grilled veggie mix on the side.

When the waiter leaves, I decide a change of subject is absolutely necessary. “We had unprotected sex.”

Sighing, Gavin takes a sip of his water and sets it back down. “I know. It hit me the minute I slammed home but fuck if I could stop.”

His words… his dirty, filthy words that remind me of how unbridled his passion was, shock me for a moment, and then fill me with a weird warmth. Because it speaks to the fact that he wanted me so badly, that he was out of control. I never thought I’d incite such desire in a man… let alone a man like Gavin Cooke.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Gavin continues. “I swear I’m clean.”

“Always kept it wrapped up?” I quip nervously.

“Always,” he says firmly, his eyes boring into mine. “I’ve done a lot of stuff that would put a permanent blush on those pretty cheeks, but I’ve always been careful.”

“What kind of stuff?” I ask, naïvely… jealously.

“You really want to know?” he asks.

No.
“Yes.”

“Let’s just say… over the six months I was writing
Killing the Tides
, I did a lot of experimenting. You can call it research if you want.”

I give a nervous laugh. “Like bondage or something.”

He never drops his eyes from mine, and his voice is hard when he admits, “BDSM, multiple partners, orgies, anal, voyeurism, sex in public. You name it… I probably tried it. Does that turn you on or off, Sweet?”

My mouth falls open in disbelief, and a strange feeling takes hold. I’m slightly disgusted by this, but at the same time, a little bit turned on. I realize without a doubt that I’m completely out of my league with him, and that what we did this morning… while it was the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me… it’s probably on the tame side for him.

Sadness overwhelms me as I realize and think to myself,
How could I ever be enough for him?

“What about you?” Gavin asks, not bothering to wait for my answer. Not that I’d ever admit that what he said turned me on or off.

I blink at him. “What about me?”

“The unprotected sex,” he says with a smirk. “I’ve assured you, now you assure me.”

My face burns hot, and my eyes lower to the table. I fiddle with my napkin on my lap, because how presumptuous of me not to have immediately put his mind at ease.

“Sweet?” he calls to me softly. “I can tell you don’t have much experience, so I’m not too worried about catching anything from you. Am I right?”

My eyes lift to him, and I nod in assent.

“But—”

“And I’m on the pill,” I say hastily.

Gavin’s breath comes out in a rush of relief, and he says, “Thank God.” I find it interesting that he was clearly more worried about me getting pregnant than getting a dose of the clap, although both seem equally disconcerting to me.

He smiles at me then, and it’s the most brilliant smile I’ve seen on his face yet. He reaches his hand across the table at me, and I release my napkin to take it. “Now that that’s out of the way, tell me your secret.”

“My secret?” I ask in confusion.

“The secret you said you would tell me maybe someday,” he reminds me while stroking his thumb over the back of my hand.

“Oh, that,” I say with immediate understanding. “It’s not all that interesting.”

“It must be if it’s a secret,” he prompts.

“It’s not really a secret. It’s public knowledge, just not something I talk about.”

“Yet, you told Brody about it.”

“He’s my friend… my closest.”

“I’m betting Brody was never as close to you as I was this morning… when I was deep inside your body.”

I pull my hand away and glare at him. “Why do you always try to shock me with your sexual innuendos?”

“Love,” Gavin drawls in that sexy, English accent. “That wasn’t innuendo. That was pure fact… I was deep inside your body this morning, feeling every inch of your sweet pussy surrounding me.”

“Stop it,” I hiss at him across the table.

He leans back in his chair slowly, giving me a calculated smile. Drumming his fingers on the table, he says, “It’s time for you to stop being shy with me, Sweet. I know you inside and out now.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I counter.

“I know plenty. I know you’re unbelievably sweet, kind, and caring. I know you have an amazing work ethic. I know you’re smart and funny, and you’re fucking sexy as hell. I also know that you’re a risk taker and that you are
nothing
like I first thought you were. I know you’re private and timid, but when you get angry, you stand up for yourself. I know your body feels amazing wrapped around me, and I know that I want to feel it again… tonight as a matter of fact. I know that I love to hear you scream in pleasure, and I know my cock is aching for you right this very minute. If I thought you’d let me, I’d pull you into the bathroom right now and fuck you standing in one of the stalls, hopefully while someone came in, and we’d have to be very quiet so as not to get caught. And I know… without a doubt, you’d scream anyway, regardless of the danger.”

Heat courses through my body, along with gratification that he does know quite a bit about me already. That means he was looking at far more than just my tits and ass, and he has found appreciation outside of those things that normally a man would notice about a woman.

“Now, tell me your secret,” he commands.

Sighing, I pick up my glass of water and take a sip. When I set it back down, I decide to tell Gavin about the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Because then… maybe then… he’d understand that I’m truly not the meek little kitten he takes me for.

At least, I haven’t always been.