Translucent (30 page)

After the two of us eat the dinner Sarah had cooked—well, I eat as Blake picks around at the food on her plate—I draw a nice, hot bubble bath for both of us. She’s being very quiet and withdrawn, and all I want to do is make her feel better. I hate feeling helpless, but without knowing what is wrong or why she has these episodes, all I can do is indulge and support her. Stripping us both, I step into the soothing tub first and sit down, then hold her hand to steady her as she follows. Nestled in-between my legs, she rests her back against my chest and sighs loudly. Almost instantly, I can feel some of the stress and tension roll off of her and into the water. Burrowing my face in the side of her neck, I kiss the soft skin gently, but remain quiet; my primary goal is getting her to relax.

“I was married before,” she states bluntly, breaking the silence several minutes later.

The revelation catches me completely off-guard, and a thousand questions fly into my head, but I don’t ask any of them. I vow to let her do this at her pace.

“I was young and naïve. He spoiled and pampered my seventeen-year-old mind, treated me like a princ—” She shakes her head, not finishing the word. “He tricked me into believing he was someone he wasn’t, and by the time I figured it out, I was in too deep.”

I drag my fingertips lightly up and down her bony arms while she talks, comforting her and encouraging her despite the countless emotions pumping through me—rage, confusion, powerlessness, jealousy.

“He’s the reason I have the flashbacks, and even though he’s gone, they just won’t leave. I can’t escape them. Sometimes, the smallest thing triggers them; sometimes, I just have them in my sleep. I never know when it’s going to happen. It’s one of the main reasons I don’t like to go out in public or engage in social situations.”

I continue to caress her arm and nuzzle my face in the side of her neck, the warm water rippling around our bodies in response to my movements. She doesn’t offer any more information, and I’m unsure if I should ask any questions. I decide not to ask about him directly, but about her healing. “Have you sought out professional help?”

A bitter laugh rumbles in the back of her throat. “The best psychiatrists in the country can’t fix me, other than to drug me to the point I’m a zombie.”

“Have you found anything that helps?”

“You,” she says in a hushed whisper, pressing her backside more snugly up against me.

My heart flutters at her response. “How so?” I breathe into her ear.

“I don’t know. I know it sounds stupid, but when I’m with you, I don’t think about the past much; I just think about being me…me with you.”

“About being
us
,” I reply before gently nipping at the delicate skin directly under her ear—I’m pretty sure that’s my favorite part of her body.

A small moan falls from her lips as she leans her head back onto my shoulder. My cock twitches against her soft ass; I had no plans of making this sexual, but with her making those noises and feeling her naked body flush against mine, I can’t help my natural physical response.

“Take me to bed, Madden,” she pleads. “Make me forget. Set me free again.”

She doesn’t have to ask me twice.

The next morning, I wake up to my sweet girl naked and snuggled up against me for the first time in three nights, and it makes me happy. Completely fucking happy. Fuck Leighton. Fuck Emerson. Fuck Blake’s ex-husband. And fuck anyone else who has a problem with us. We’ve both made shitty decisions in the past, and we’ve both been screwed over by people who supposedly loved us, but all that matters to me is right here, right now. Her. Me. Us.

I’m surprised after how many times I came last night that my dick is even awake this morning, but the first time she stirs, wiggling her bare bottom against me, he’s hard and ready to go again. Dipping my hips slightly to line the tip up with her sweet pussy, I rub the head up and down from her clit to her tight opening several times before sliding into her slowly.

She doesn’t open her eyes, but I know she’s awake by the way she’s arching her back, pressing into my measured strokes. I use one hand to grasp onto her hipbone, while the other is tangled in her highlighted tresses. I’d love to see her with her naturally dark hair again, like she has in the photo hidden in my desk, but since she doesn’t know I’ve seen it, I really can’t say anything.

A soft purr seeps from her, and my focus snaps back to the task at hand. Gradually, I increase the tempo of each thrust until we’re both right at the edge, which doesn’t take either of us long. Slipping my hand off her hip and over to her lower stomach, I spread my fingers and press down, causing her hips to tilt at just the perfect angle for my shaft to rub against the top of her inner wall.

“Come with me, Blake,” I growl hoarsely. Her tiny hands grab hold of the sheets, and she balls the thin fabric into her fists as we explode together, calling out each other’s names—perfection every time.

Afterwards, we both lay there quietly as our bodies come down from the rapturous high until she rolls over to face me with an impish grin. “Good morning,” she says with a sleepy yawn, “that was a nice way to wake up.”

I lean forward and kiss the tip of her nose. “The best, sweet girl, but we need to get up, shower, and eat, because we’re going to Magic Mountain today.”

“Magic Mountain?” she asks, crinkling her nose up in the cutest way. “What’s that?”

“A theme park with lots of roller coasters and greasy food, where we can act like crazy kids with no responsibilities.” I pinch her butt cheek, causing her to squeal. “Now get up, buttercup. I want to be there when it opens.”

Climbing out from underneath the covers with a goofy smile plastered on her face, she jumps on the bed a couple of times before hopping down to the floor and skipping into the bathroom. “I’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”

I grab my clothes from the closet and am just about to go down to the guest bathroom to shower, when my phone rings. Groaning, I pick it up off the nightstand and see it’s Easton.
Of-fucking-course.

“What’s wrong now?” I answer bitterly.

“Good morning to you too, dear brother, and why do you assume something’s wrong?” he asks.

“Why else would you be calling me at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning, Easton?”

He grows silent, confirming the truth in my statement. “What do you need?” I ask again.

“I owe the Kabinovs three hundred large, and they’ve given me two weeks to get it together.”

Three hundred thousand dollars?!? Is he fucking kidding me?

Furious at his irresponsibility and disregard for others, I decide I’m done—for good this time. “I don’t know who the hell the Kabinovs are, but sorry, bro; I can’t do it. You’re gonna have to find another way this time.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it? You’ve got the money…loan it to me and I’ll pay you back. I swear.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head at what I have to do. “I’m really sorry, Easton, but no. It’s time for you to learn the hard way to clean up your own messes.”

I hang up the phone and walk to the shower, determined not to let him ruin this weekend with Blake.

S
UNDAY
MORNING
, I
WAKE
up to aching muscles and sore feet from Madden and my full day at Magic Mountain. It was everything he promised and more. We climbed aboard ride after ride, dropping, twisting, looping, and swerving at intense speeds until I was sure my stomach was permanently lodged in my throat. My cheeks cramped from smiling so hard and for so long. We ate pizza, popcorn, pretzels, and I even tried my first funnel cake. Who knew how delicious fried dough arranged in a bird’s nest formation topped with powdered sugar and caramel sauce could be?!

It was like our day of fun at the Santa Monica pier multiplied by a thousand; our comfort level around each other was unsurpassed, which allowed us to let loose and act like fun-loving teenagers. Not once did I worry about someone following me or watching me, and it felt so good to let that go and focus on having a great time. I already can’t wait to go back.

Today, however, is the nerve-racking meet-the-parents day. I’m so not prepared for this, and the only reason I’ve managed to not go completely neurotic over it is by pushing it to the back of mind, forcing myself not to worry about it until…well…until today. I’m nervous about them thinking I’m not enough for their son—not old enough, not wealthy enough, not pretty enough, and overall, just not good enough—because, quite honestly, sometimes I wonder myself if I’m enough for Madden. I know he doesn’t care about my lack of social status and he thinks I’m pretty, even though I feel like my exterior is still a bit of a fraud, but I worry about what other people think of our age difference and the overall package I offer to him.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Madden’s smooth timbre interrupts the mini internal panic attack I’m having over breakfast.

My head snaps up from the table I’ve been staring at for who knows how long, and his understanding eyes meet mine. “Please stop worrying,” he pleads.

“I can’t help it,” I whine. “What time are we leaving again?”

“We’ll leave here about noon.” I glance over at the clock on the oven, noting I’ve still got a little over an hour to fret over the situation.

“I’ve got an idea of something to take your mind off of it until it’s time to go,” he teases, waggling his eyebrows and rubbing his foot up and down my leg under the table.

I throw my napkin at him, trying to stifle my giggles. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

He nods and smiles wickedly. “You make me this way, and I’ve got to get my workouts in somehow, since I’ve only been to the gym like twice since we met.” Leaning back in his chair and laughing, he pats his washboard abs like he has a jiggling beer gut. “My metabolism isn’t anywhere near what it used to be.”

“Oh, hush.” I scoot my chair back and walk over to the sink to rinse off my plate. “I’m going to start getting ready, old man.” Cracking myself up with the nickname, the sound of his chair scraping across the floor alerts me he’s coming to get me, so I take off running up the stairs. Just as my left foot hits the top landing, strong arms scoop me up around the waist and lift me into the air as Madden throws me over his shoulder and marches to his bedroom, with me wiggling and kicking the entire way.

“Old man, huh?” he asks as he playfully tosses me onto the bed. The relentless tickling commences, and it continues until I’m laughing so hard my side hurts. “I’m going to show you just what this old man can do to your young ass.”

“Get off of me, you perv!” I shriek, grabbing hold of a pillow and hitting him with it.

Stealing my idea, he takes hold of the other pillow, and the tickling turns into a full-on pillow fight. We run around the room, jump on the bed, and blast each other with the feathery weapons until we both collapse in a heap of uncontrollable laughter on top of the sheets.

Once we eventually settle down, I crawl on top of him, straddling his waist, and lean down to kiss him softly. “I really have to get ready now, but I’ll be happy to let you show me what you can do to my young ass later tonight.” His mouth makes this half-moan/ half-growl sound, which vibrates directly between my legs. Drawing his bottom lip in-between my teeth, I suck on it gently as I lightly grind myself on his taut stomach.

“Blake,” he cautions, “don’t tease me with something I can’t have right now.”

I hastily hop off of him and the bed, and saunter seductively towards the bathroom, knowing he’s watching the sway of my ass. Before I disappear behind the door, I peer over my shoulder at him and say, “I’m sorry,
Sir
. I’ll give you your birthday present tonight.”