Sinful Nights: Sinful Longing Part 12

She gasped. "Do it."

He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because I want you to want it."

"You think I don't?" she asked, as she rocked into his fingers gliding across her.

"I want you to want it so much it drives you crazy."

"I'm pretty much insane right now," she said, her breath coming faster.

It was his cue to slow down. "I know. But I want you to come over tonight already hot and wet. I want you to spend the day thinking about me, and what I'm going to do to you, so when you show up you'll be a live wire, and I can f.u.c.king devour all your sweetness."

"Oh G.o.d," she said, shuddering as she moved faster into his fingers.

He had to exercise phenomenal control. He could have her coming all over his hand in less than a minute, but that would ruin tonight.

He bent his head to her ear, and whispered, "I want to taste you coming. I want to f.u.c.k you so hard. I want to feel you beneath me as you writhe and moan and scream. And I want that in exactly nine hours. See you at seven."

He smacked her rear, giving her a sharp crack to remember him by all day. He zipped himself up, kissed her good-bye, and showed her the door.

He wasn't imagining it when she shook her a.s.s at him in a s.e.xy "see you later" as she walked away.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

Soon. Please let it happen soon. Let this day end any second. She stared at the clock on her wall, willing it to tick faster.

But the tortoise speed of the second hand was either a cruel joke or a reminder that Colin was right. He was all she thought about as she finished up some paperwork about the status of the center's programs.

And since he was all she thought about, she was hot, she was bothered, and she was h.o.r.n.y.

Great. Just f.u.c.king great to be parked at her desk, filling in information about the poetry nights and the hot meal plan, when her skin was sizzling from that morning encounter at his office.

She pushed back from her desk, walked to the ladies' room, and splashed cold water on her face, then dried it with a scratchy paper towel. Ugh. The d.a.m.n towel was rough. She made a mental note to look into new paper towel vendors, and as she left the restroom she gave herself a virtual pat on the back for having successfully turned off the latest bout of l.u.s.t.

Good thing because when she returned to her office, Marcus was rapping on her door.

Tension crashed into her, but she reminded herself of her new approach. Be two people. With Marcus, she was only Center Director Elle. The other side of her ceased to exist.

"Hey there," she said.

"Do you have a second?"

"I do." She guided him into her office and shut the door. "Is this about..." she asked, letting her voice trail off in question.

"Yeah. You didn't tell him, did you?" Marcus asked, terror in his brown eyes. For a brief moment before she answered, she studied his eyes. They were dark brown, like Colin's. Another secret she had to bear-a small one that was folded into the big one. But still, she now knew they shared a family resemblance. That gnawing in her chest resurfaced, and she tried valiantly to swat it away. She clenched her fists and refocused away from Marcus's eyes and back to his question.

"Of course I didn't say anything. I told you I wouldn't, and I meant it. Now, tell me what I can do for you?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I know you wouldn't tell him. I'm just..."

"You're nervous," she supplied, as she placed a hand on his shoulder. He was shaking. "Hey, it's going to be okay. Talk to me."

"What if they don't believe me?" he blurted out. "I'll just be showing up out of the blue and saying 'Hey, I'm your little brother. I was born in the pokey. We don't even have the same dad, but isn't it cool?'" He swung his elbows back and forth in mockery of a too-happy person. "I mean, my mom never told them. My dad never did. I don't think they have a clue."

"Show them your birth certificate. You have one, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I have a copy of it," he said, his gaze drifting to his feet. "Says right there in black and white how I was born behind bars."

"There's no shame in where you came from. We all came from different places. My son came from an eighteen-year-old high school graduate and his father is dead from an overdose. I do not let him feel shame about any of that," she said firmly. Marcus raised his face again. "So don't let a few words on your birth certificate affect how you see yourself."

"I just feel like I'm trying to hit them up with proof," he muttered.

"But you are, and there's nothing wrong with that. You need to be smart about this and be prepared, because it is hard. Maybe that's why no one was home the other time you went there. Maybe the universe knew you needed to have all the evidence before you went."

"I need to do it soon. The detective called about the reopened investigation. He wants to talk to me. I don't want to talk to him, though."

She held up both hands and backed away. "You shouldn't tell me more on that. I can talk to you about the family stuff, but anything involving the case, I need to stay out of."

He flashed a small smile. "I won't. But thanks again. I think I'm going to rip off the Band-Aid. Do it next week."

Next week. Each piece of information was another cut to the flesh.

When he left, she glanced at the clock. The good news was their discussion pa.s.sed some time.

The bad news was she was going to need to go home and take a cold shower to wash off this new download of intel she wished she didn't have to store in her head and her heart.

Both ached terribly.

A female Elvis impersonator with drooping b.r.e.a.s.t.s dangling out of her jumpsuit mugged for the camera on the street below. She draped her arms around two guys with sunburns and foot-long plastic drink gla.s.ses. With their free hands, both men mimed grabbing a breast. The Elvis outfit was made modest by pasties on her nipples.

The woman laughed, and so did the guys. Until one stopped laughing, started hacking, and promptly heaved into the nearby garbage can.

"And that's all, folks, in today's five p.m. Parade of What We Might Have Been," said Kevin, Colin's friend and mentor from his recovery group. The two of them stood on the elevated walkway at the corner of Bally's, surveying the madness and mayhem of happy hour on the Strip. This was one of the many faces of Vegas-the city embodied glitz and glamour in its cla.s.sy hotels, s.e.x and sin in its nightclubs, beauty and cla.s.s in the fountains of the Bellagio, but also the seedy in the late afternoon crowds weaving up and down the sidewalks, drunk as skunks.

Colin held up his iced coffee and toasted. "Here's to my best friend. Coffee," he said, since caffeine was the one "vice" he allowed himself to have.

"Hear, hear. May it never ever be banned," Kevin said, swallowing the last of his drink then returning to the conversation they'd started before She-Elvis had arrived on the scene. "So, the meeting with the detective and talking about the past, did that stir anything up?"

"Not really," Colin said quickly, glancing at his watch, calculating how much time until he saw Elle.

Kevin shot him a steely stare. "Really?"

Busted.

Colin forced his mind away from the antic.i.p.ation of tonight, and back in time to his conversation with Michael at the base of the mountain after they'd met with John. He sighed, dragged his free hand through his hair, and shrugged. "Guilt. It brought back a lot of guilt."

The other man nodded sagely. "That makes sense. But you need to keep working on letting go of that. Guilt-and I mean the misplaced kind-can eat you up. When you start to feel that way, the things that we think will take the pain away seem a h.e.l.luva lot more appealing. Tequila looks a lot prettier the worse you feel."

"Yeah. That's true," Colin admitted. The moments he'd been most tempted to crack open a bottle were when he felt the s.h.i.ttiest about himself.

"Just be aware that revisiting the past can mess with your head. So keep doing the things that make you feel centered. Your exercise. Your work. Your meetings. All of it. Okay, man?"

Colin's gaze drifted to his arms, to the inked reminders of the man he wanted to be. The strong one, the kind one. The man who didn't live a wrecked kind of life. Strength, love, pa.s.sion, family, truth. They were his touchstones, his hallmarks, and his guides. "I will."

"Because something this big could knock you off your game. Falling in love. Breaking up. Losing a s.h.i.t-ton of money. Even good things, like landing a new deal. h.e.l.l, just learning something out of the blue. Anything can be a trigger. That almost happened to me a few years ago when I fell in love with my wife. You'd think falling in love would be this wonderful thing to keep me straight. But I very nearly popped the pills again because I didn't know if she was feeling the same thing, and I felt so out of control."

Kevin's admission knocked the air out of Colin's lungs. He'd never imagined falling for someone could have those kinds of consequences. "Seriously?"

Kevin nodded. "Love nearly kicked the s.h.i.t out of me."

"How did you deal?"

"I told her how I felt. I was honest with her. I spoke the truth, and she loved that I was open, and the rest is history."

The words struck a chord. He'd delivered worlds of pleasure to Elle between the sheets, he'd proven he could show her one h.e.l.l of a good time out of bed, and now there was one last thing to do.

Open his heart.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

At last.

She blasted the AC in her car and cranked up the music, rocking out to an upbeat Katy Perry song as she drove to Colin's home. Her mom had picked up Alex already, and the two of them had planned a festive night of bowling, arcade games, and the Chinese buffet. He'd also reviewed his history facts for a full thirty minutes, thanks to the app that Colin had found and sent to the two of them. The best part? Alex said the app was fun. From a fourteen-year-old boy, that one-word description was the best she could hope for.

As for Elle, she sighed happily as she imagined the night ahead of her now that she was on her way.

She shivered as the images flashed before her. This was a s.e.x date all right, but it was also more, given the words they'd both said that morning at his office.

I like you.

They were three simple words, said in many ways every day. They were young words, breathed by middle-schoolers and teenagers, and yet they felt adult, too. They were an acknowledgment of caring, a way of stating that what was between them was more than s.e.x, but not quite hurtling toward that scarier four-letter word.

There was no way they were going in that direction. No way at all. Not even possible. She wouldn't let that happen.

As the song segued into the chorus, she sang along, letting the music keep her mind on the moment and far away from the afternoon. Just as she blocked on the roller rink for the jammers, she was blocking out the sides of her that had not been invited to play tonight.

Her outfit too was pure After Hours Elle. No steady, reliable flats and jeans-wearing Elle here. She'd decked herself out in her s.e.xiest high-heeled shoes, a short black skirt that hugged her hips, and a clingy tank top. She was strong and toned from exercise, and she knew Colin liked to see as much of her skin as possible, so she'd picked this outfit for him.

As she turned off the highway, she dialed his number to see if he wanted her to call in the Thai order they'd talked about. It went straight to voicemail.

She went ahead and ordered anyway. Dinner would be her treat.

After the meeting with Kevin, he'd managed to carve out forty-five minutes pre-date for a trail run. He'd pushed himself extra hard with a punishing uphill route in the early evening heat. But he'd needed it, because Kevin was right. The challenging workout had helped settle his mind and heart, dislodging some of yesterday's latent guilt and also strengthening his resolve to share his feelings with Elle.

Now, he stood under hot jets of water, rinsing away the remnants of the sweaty workout. He shut the shower, dried off, and wrapped a towel around his waist so he could get ready for his date-in his house. The best kind of date. As he finished brushing his teeth, his phone rang, so he tossed the toothbrush on the edge of the sink and grabbed the phone from his bed in case it was Elle.

It wasn't.

Rex was calling.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

"Okay, here's the deal. I am almost ready," Rex said, stretching out the word. "I'm like ninety percent ready. And I want to just kill it on this test. But there's one problem that's making me absolutely bat-s.h.i.t crazy."

"Lay it on me," Colin said, as he opened a drawer to grab a pair of boxers.

Rex rattled off the details, and Colin walked him through the steps to solving the equation as he pulled on black briefs and hung up his towel. The other line rang as he reviewed how to crosscheck the work, but he didn't look to see who was calling since he was mid-explanation.

"Awesome," Rex said, relief and exuberance in his voice. "You are clutch, man. You are so clutch."

Colin smiled at the compliment. "Need anything else?"

Rex cleared his throat, then said, "Um."

Uh-oh. Rex never hemmed and hawed. The guy was the king of boldness.

"What is it? Just tell me."

Rex sighed. "s.h.i.t, I hate to ask. But I need a ride tomorrow to the test. My mom is taking the car for a job interview, and Marcus's ride is in the shop-his tires are being rotated. So he can't drive us."

"Us?" Colin asked, curiously. "He's taking the math placement test, too?"

"Yeah. He heard I was taking it, so he signed up as well. He's a f.u.c.king math whiz though, just like you. He's done all the studying on his own, and he's trying to place into calculus or some s.h.i.t like that. He's trying to find a ride, but I just figured I'd take the initiative and ask you. I guess I could take Uber though."

"No, you won't take Uber," Colin said with a wide grin. He was so d.a.m.n grateful to be hearing this-that both boys were eager and ready to learn. "Tell me where to pick you up and I will gladly be your driver."