CALLEN (Second Chance Novels Book 3) (5 page)

I run my fingers through her golden tresses and lose myself completely in my need for Evelyn.
 

"Don't be so sad," Tipton whispers across my lips. "I'm here tonight. You can pretend to love me. I understand."

Without a word, I pick her up and cradle her in my arms. Her light frame rests against my chest, and I close my eyes for a moment before I walk to her bedroom. She allows me to undress her, and I imagine how beautiful Evelyn would have been in a silk camisole like Tipton's.
 

I pull the woman in front of me into my arms strongly and allow my hands the same fantasy as my eyes. With nearly the same intensity I feel for Evvie, I pull Tipton tightly against me and revel in the gentle grip of her hands along my neck and shoulders.
 

"You are so beautiful," I whisper without meaning to.
 

She tugs at my shirt and I raise my arms so she can lift it from my head. Her eyes take in my hard physique, the one Evvie never had a chance to experience. A single kiss from Tipton's lips burns into my chest, causing my grief to surface. The ache from within my chest sears me more painfully.
 

"Shh," Tipton breathes over the tension in my muscles. She removes my pants while I run my hands through her hair again. In only her lingerie, she pulls me onto the bed and allows me to settle over her.
 

"I miss her," I speak in total honesty again, reminding her of what tonight is.
 

"I know," she says. "Let yourself forget for tonight."

I sharply look her in the eye. "Tonight is not about forgetting."

She nods in understanding and leans up to kiss me deeply. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "Then however you need me."

She pushes my boxer briefs down my legs and strokes me strongly. Her touch ignites my desire, and my eyelids close to allow the depth of my fantasy.
 

I remove the remaining silk from her willowy form and begin to physically seduce the current embodiment of the woman I lost.
 

A breathy sound flows softly from her graceful neck while I dedicate my lips to the soft pulse under her chin, moving slowly down to her breasts. I kiss and lick strongly along her skin, needing to take in more of her…needing to use her body to fill the gaping hole Evvie left in mine.
 

Tipton arches into me and glides her long legs along my hips, locking my body against her. I try to ignore the guilt, and rather focus on foreplay. My efforts are rewarded by Tipton's moaning appreciation. My imagination brings the sound from Evvie's voice.

I don't open my eyes once.
 

Tipton rolls me to my back and spends time teasing my neck and the flat discs of my nipples, all the way to my cock. She licks from root to crown, humming her contentment.

Forcing myself to empty my mind, I spend my energy focusing on pleasure. The heat of her breath and the teasing wetness of her tongue allow me to lose myself completely. I breathe out heavily at her teasing, and wrap my hands in her hair to pull her against me harder. She easily adapts to my more desperate desires, using her lips to ride my cock until I come.
 

I don't open my eyes, still. If I saw Tipton's blond hair curtaining my cock, her face obscured, my fantasy would be too close to real.
 

I hold Tipton's head gently against my belly for a moment before I roll her to her back. Pleasuring her in return offers me a chance for another dimension of my fantasy.
 

I tease her breasts and kiss a sweet trail down her flawless tummy and straight between her legs. With well-practiced skill, I use my tongue to circle and lick, and I use my lips to kiss and suck. Her hips meet my mouth in rhythm as her pleasure builds. The higher she gets, the more desperate her whispered moans.
 

My imagination takes over again, and I ignore the pending emotional hangover from allowing myself to fall so deeply into thoughts of Evvie. How would she have responded to my tongue?
 

I force my question aside and listen to Tipton. Her whispers become hums as I bring her closer to climax. When she falls over the edge of pleasure, She moans loudly and nearly trembles at the intensity.
 

"God..." she breathes out as she recovers.

I can't respond but rather rest my forehead on her hip bone.
 

"Come here," she whispers for the second time tonight. She draws me to her breast and rests my head carefully against her. She skims her fingernails lightly through my stubbly hair, offering me comfort and loving sensation. Tipton is a good woman. Part of me wishes I had genuine desire for her. Instead, reality surfaces. She willingly allowed me to use her, and I wonder again of Evvie. Would she be used so easily? Of course not. Tipton, even though she is everything I need tonight, is nothing of what I want in my life.

I focus again on my current needs, and use my station at her breast to tease her again. I have tonight to get lost, to fantasize, and to release the tension that builds up in my body. I will continue to use Tipton as kindly as I can.

Passion, now, overtakes the slow need from the last hour. My kisses morph into grazing nips along her skin, and she responds by digging her nails into me. My desperation stems from my inability to deal with Evvie's death. I have an aching need to ease the pain, and using Tipton seems the best way. Making love to her with my mouth didn't satisfy me, and I talk myself into believing a strong, heavy fuck will give me what I'm missing.
 

Instead of imagining a sweet time with Evvie, I'll push away the pain with a strong drive into Tipton's body. I sink myself in heavily and push myself strongly against her. She opens to me completely and accepts every deliberate, forceful thrust into her body. My hands lock her body against mine everywhere I can reach, and I dig my fingers in to hold on tight.
 

I grunt my growing satisfaction as her breathing shifts into panting.
 

"Callen..." she moans out.
 

I can't use her name in return.
 

My pace continues to grow rapidly, as does the strength of my plundering. Push after push I try to fuck away my emptiness. As I climax, I realize once again the fault in my thinking. Somehow, even in the high of endorphins, I'm now
less
than empty. I force myself to hold Tipton in post-coital tenderness. Neither of us speak. What would there be to say?
 

I roll from her body and force myself to face her. In a final act of whatever form of kindness I can muster, I cup her face and offer her a kiss. She smiles at me softly and doesn't ask me to stay. My lips meet hers one final time before I get dressed. She wraps the sheet around herself and stands to receive a final embrace.
 

"Grieving takes time," she says in understanding. "Take care of yourself."
 

"You too," I say softly. "Tonight meant a lot."

So much for my honesty. Tonight meant nothing, and even less now that I'm drowning deeper in my sadness. What the hell made me think this would help?
 

I never expected to be at this place in my life. Until I left the Army, everything made sense. My life had order and sanity. My one-night relationships left me satisfied and arrogant over my skill as a lover.

The intensity in my life hasn't changed, but my ability to function has. I'm disgusted by my personal weakness, which bolsters my need for professional strength.
 

I vow to redouble my efforts at Delta Security, and exponentially multiply my efforts to bring Evvie's slithering ex-husband to justice.
 

"Goodnight, Tipton," I smile for her, forcing the sadness off my face. There's no need for her to be as unsatisfied as I am. She needs to walk away from this knowing she helped me. Otherwise, I will have used her utterly.

By the time Wednesday rolls around again, I mentally roll through my last two days. I spent nearly every hour stewing over the information assembled in my guest room. Based on the information I received from Quinn Porter, I have a better understanding of Bennett's cell block and the personalities therein. Note upon note is tacked to yet another part of my wall now, which will help me decide who should take the fall for my murder. I barely slept, nor did I spend much time at Delta. This all needs to end soon, and my level of obsession requires relief as much as Bennett requires a painful death.

 
I walk into Quinn's office with my game face on.
 

"Pardon my assumption, but there's something off about you," she says with mild curiosity. "You are doing a professional assessment here, but there's something about you I can't put my finger on."

"I'm not sure what to tell you," I dismiss with smile. "Now, you wanted to discuss the internship program. How can I help?"

She regards me for another moment and I work very hard to conceal the tinge of panic she brings out every time she moves a step closer to my hidden side. Her questions about me redouble every time she sees me, which means I need to redouble my efforts as well. Agreeing to this meeting may have been a mistake, but avoiding her may be more dangerous. If she's an enemy, I need to keep her close.
 

Her intelligence impress me, her keen understanding of people is a skill I can appreciate, and she remains physically attractive, as well. She may not have Evvie's grace, but has a feminine tenacity I can also appreciate. I'll admit to imagining what she would be like outside of the prison. I have no doubt I would find her equally fascinating.
 

I may have to start smacking myself upside the head every day for thinking like that. Evvie deserves better than my straying thoughts.
 

Like this intelligent psychologist notices, there's something off about me. Quinn Porter sees the change in me that began with Evvie. My thoughts are interrupted by Quinn clearing her throat with an amused smile again. "Welcome back," she says.
 

I chuckle and shake my head. Yeah, there's definitely something off about me.
 

"It's been a long day," I grin as an obvious brush off.
 

"Hmm. Anyway, I've been thinking about the internships. If course credit is involved, the requirements for the work here need to be more rigorous."

"I've been thinking the same thing," I nod as I hand a notepad to her. "With careful planning, they could cover some of your one-on-one therapy sessions with the prisoners. I put together a list of inmates with the least-violent offenses who have shown initiative to improve."

"Interesting," she says as she scans the information.

Wanting to demonstrate my dedication to the
job
, I continue, "If some schedule points are loosened up, a lot more could be done. I've been looking at areas that could be less stringent, and your interns' schedules might fit better."

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and I hope she doesn't see my personal purpose here. Fail. I can tell I've let on too much about my purpose. I doubt that 'loosening up schedule points" is a common goal in the prison system. She sits back and eyes me again.
 

Thinking on the fly, my brain trips over a potentially better strategy with this woman. She questions other sides of me, and I can direct her knowledge in the direction of my choosing. The strategy may not be appropriate, but seems my best play nonetheless.
 

I attempt a smooth change of subject while keeping us on point. "I have a few more ideas, but I thought maybe we could discuss them over dinner?"

Her eyebrows raise in surprise. "You're asking me out?"

"Working dinner," I answer simply without a hint of flirtation.
 

She crosses her arms again and eyes me suspiciously. Damn it, I can't distract this woman with anything.
 

"Ok, I'll go out with you," she says. Her clinical tone would irritate me if my intentions were romantic.

"But…" I draw out in an obvious attempt to force her meaning.

"But don't get the wrong impression," she says directly. "Seeing you in a social atmosphere would give me a chance to gain some insight, and I can still get my
working dinner
."