Inside Out (23 page)

“What about Karen?”

“Nothing happened between us.”

“Didn't look like that on your profile.”

“What's it matter?” His tone grew gruff and his eyes were accusing “I tried. Damn, I tried.”

Please stop.

“She's very good with her tongue, you know. And those hands! She could get paid for what she does with 'em. I imagined what it would be like for her to wrap those long, fantastic legs around me.”

Why can't you just shut up?
she wanted to ask him.

“I mean, she is luscious. Her bottom would probably fit right into my hands!” Tracey was opening her mouth to cuss him out when he pinned her with a savage look, “But… she's not you.” He dropped his gaze to his lap with an exaggerated shake of his head. “So that's what I'm doing here. Just driving back over here and parking my car out there got me hard as a rock. I'm good enough for that, aren't I? Hmm? It'll be just like old times.”

“Garrett, don't do this,” she pleaded, even though that treacherous moisture crept down onto her thighs. Hell, she couldn't control it. He started to rise and she backed towards the doorway, sucking in all of her breath. He really wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing and his body was as perfect as it had ever been, with its smooth planes, curving muscles, and inviting lines. She could see the pale hair barely noticeable as it sprinkled across his chest. It made a thin line down the center of his stomach between the hard muscles all the way down to circle him. She swallowed, barely able to take his beauty.

Garrett stalked toward her and Tracey was frozen in anticipation, maybe in fright. He started to nuzzle, nip, and suck at her neck, going for the jugular in every sense of the expression. She twisted and twisted from the tingling sensations coursing through her. In soft, gently spoken words he whispered, “I'm good enough to fuck, aren't I, Tracey?”

She felt fire, pure fire, cut through her chest and burn the pit of her stomach. She wanted to crumple right there under the pressure of his hateful words. Then she wanted to fight. She wanted to do something, anything, to stop his cruelty, to stop this near-painful arousal she still felt. But before she could act, his lips started a fresh attack, rendering her impotent all over again. She felt his hands go into her hair, his fist closing around the bulk of it. Then she felt him pull downward, forcing her to look up at him. She resisted without even the slightest whimper to show her strength. Garrett tugged even harder. She remained silent, her natural reaction arrested by pride.

Tracey simply stared back at him, waiting. He smiled. Finally, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her hard. There was nothing nice or pleasant about the kiss he bestowed upon her, nothing at all, and her traitorous body adored every bit of it.

He pressed a hand beneath her thigh until her leg was lifted and propped up on his. She felt one of his hands snaking under her skirt and past the elastic of her panties until his fingers pressed inside her and she could barely breathe. There was no way to stop what was about to happen, and yet Tracey was foolish enough to try. “Garrett,” she murmured, knowing no control over her voice, her own reactions. Even as she made her protest, she slid herself against his fingers.

“Rett,” he said, correcting her though she could barely make sense of anything. He kissed her deeper, then pulled up short, leaving her bereft. “Rett.”

She knew what he was waiting for, and she knew there would be no relief for her if she didn't give it to him. He wanted her to surrender, place her pride on a platter, and sacrifice the control she had held on to so firmly from the very start. His fingers plunged deeper, moving rhythmically between her legs. She was thankful for him holding her there because there was no way she could have remained standing on her own. She twisted her head from side to side, hoping to deter his kisses. She twisted her body also to either evade or aid—she wasn't sure which—his magician's hand. Then it came out on the wings of an exhaled breath: “Rett, Rett, please.” And then as if following suit, her body surrendered itself and she was wracked with the most powerful pulses of electricity and bliss she'd had since the first time they were together. Hot embarrassment coursed through her, mingling with each passionate wave of fulfillment. It was impossible to feel one without the other. Still, he did not free her.

Instead, he let soft, tender kisses fall on her pinched eyebrows and stroked her tensed arm and thigh with his hands. Then, as her breathing returned to normal and her muscles started to relax, he started all over again. Realizing that it would be useless to resist him, Tracey tried to relax and be still, show him no emotion. She was under the impression that if she did this, he would just give up the fight and leave her alone. There were so many things wrong with that logic. It hadn't worked that first time they were together. It hadn't worked just moments before. Tracey thought maybe since it had been such a long time, she had just forgotten how effective his ministrations were. Still, he couldn't have
possibly
been this good before. Already he'd brought her to the precipice, her body was still moist, and nipples that were already hard grew painfully taut at his slightest movement. And, as if he knew that, as if her body were talking to him, he pulled down the front of her shirt and her new bra along with it. His lips hovered over her breast and Tracey tried to get him to stop, self-conscious about her milk. Rett ignored her protests and his mouth clamped over her breast. It hurt and aroused her all at once. Tracey bit down hard on the inside of her jaw to keep her pleasure silent.

“Delicious,” he whispered.

Her breath wouldn't come out right and all she could think of was what was coming next.

Finally her acquiescence came in the form of grabbing his hair as he had hers, and dragging him back up. Her lips instantly found his with greedy desperation. He kissed her back hard, then tore away. He dropped to one knee and slipped her panties down and off. Still kneeling, he grabbed her hips, angling them towards him and she was lost as his tongue sought a brand new attack. He pulled one thigh up onto his shoulder and lay open his way.

“God, Garrett, I can't do this,” she moaned, even though she had already gone too far to turn back.

“Rett,” he ground out against her. As she felt his teeth sink into her sensitive flesh she groaned that name because she couldn't help herself. She had to give him what he wanted in order to get what she wanted. She felt his hot tongue lapping at her and his lips sucking her into him and she knew she was going to die. But just as she felt the vibrations start, he stopped, rising to bite into her shoulder and wrap his arms around her. He was breathing hard and seemed to be trying to calm himself. As he took a saving breath, Tracey slid her hands low between their bodies to press his length into her.

Immediately, she felt his hands slip beneath her knees to lift them around him. He pressed her into the wall and pushed hard inside her. It had been over a year and she faltered as she tried to catch her breath, gasping to fill her lungs. He pressed harder and faster and faster each moment and he was killing her. Her hand caressed his hips, his ass, his thighs so she could feel him pump against her body. She urged him on and slipped her other hand around his back to pull him closer, closer to her. He finished his onslaught, and Tracey stifled a scream, not wanting to wake the baby. The sob was wrenched from deep inside her and she was nearly blinded with the pleasure of it. She felt him shuddering and heard the loud, ragged battles for breath that let her know he had died, too.

For a moment, he stood pinning her against the wall, his arms stretched out flat on either side of her. Without notice, he carried her to the bed. They lay there side by side, not touching. Tracey pulled her shirt up over her breasts, pulled her skirt down over her thighs, and shifted her legs to see how much discomfort she felt. It
had
been more than a year, and she had had Nathalie.

“Are you sore?” he asked, reading her mind. Tracey nodded, unable to speak to him after what they'd done. “You should have stopped me.”

She didn't know how long they lay there not speaking before they drifted off. What she did remember was waking up to check on Nathalie, then coming back to bed to find Garrett sleepy, rubbing his eyes and reaching for her. She lowered her body on top of his and took her time exploring him, tenderly taking her fill of him all over again. She was ready in minutes as she rose on her knees over his body. Beneath her, he urged, “Yes, baby. Like that. Jeez.” Then he quaked to another release, grabbed her and hugged her to him, holding her still, letting go as she followed him into bliss again.

Nathalie woke them in the wee hours of the morning. She was hungry. Tracey got up to feed her. Garrett joined them. He'd never said so, but Tracey knew he enjoyed watching her feed the baby. And it was something, even with the animosity between them, she'd never denied him.

After Tracey fed her, he took her and prepared to put her down again. Then he got dressed. She started to realize—as if she didn't already know—that nothing had changed. Nothing at all. Inside, her body was rent and she ached for him, yet here he was, dressing and giving her his back, silent and barely acknowledging that he, too, had lost control only hours before.

Slowly, Tracey eased the covers up over her and turned her head into the pillow. She waited for the tears, but this time they didn't come. She looked for the feeling that bored a hole in her chest whenever she remembered she couldn't have Garrett, no matter what. It wasn't there. All she felt was the dying pleasure, slick-pressed between her thighs, and numbness all over the rest of her body. She couldn't even muster the nerve to hate him for what he'd done to her. To her? Who was she kidding? Done
with
her.

He turned toward her after his clothes were back on. He stood staring for a long while. “Tracey, what I did tonight was wrong.” She didn't know if she agreed or not. Oh, it was wrong all right, but he didn't get all the blame for it. “It's just that I've been fighting it for so long.” He ran fingers through his hair in frustration. “And I can't bring myself to be with anyone else.” He said this with his head bowed as if he were ashamed to admit it. He didn't want to want her.

“I see,” she managed through numb lips and a throat she couldn't feel either.

“No, Tracey, I don't think you do. What I'm trying to tell you is that I couldn't help myself, and even after everything, after everything, I don't want to hurt you.”

“I'm just a little sore.”

“That's not what I mean, and you know it. I used you, and I'm sorry. I guess I could try and tell you I didn't want to hurt you tonight, but it would be a lie. I thought I wanted to hurt you. I thought I wanted to punish you for everything. But even though that's what I thought, I didn't mean to, if you can understand that. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“You didn't,” she insisted, mustering up the words from God knows where. In truth, he hadn't hurt her through sex. He was hurting her with his cold distance. She didn't want to go back to distance. She wanted that night to be cathartic and maybe the beginning of something new.

But it was just sex. They were just releasing the sexual tension always polluting the air and their brains when they were around each other.

He opened his mouth to say something, probably to peg her for the liar she was. But he didn't complete the action. He turned in the doorway and walked out. He was leaving. In minutes, Tracey heard Nathalie's door open and close. Then the front door opened and snapped shut.

* * *

Monica came back early. Tracey was lying awake as she had since Rett left, in the same clothes, but without her panties, curled into the fetal position. Monica took one look and dropped to the bed next to her. She tried to smile.

“Think of the bright side, you didn't sleep with him.”

Tracey coughed then and turned away from her. What could she possibly say? She could only twist her hands in one of Nathalie's blankets. She had lain with it since Garrett had gone. Monica knew it then.

“Tracey, why? Why did you let him do it? I know how you feel about him, but, God, the way he went about it. He didn't have to go out like that.”

“I know,” she responded, pressing her nose into the blanket smelling her baby.

She hadn't made a peep since he left. Which had given Tracey plenty of time to replay the night. Time to remember how right it felt to be with him, no matter that a mountain rested between them. Maybe Garrett didn't love her anymore, and he really had taken pleasure from her body against both their wills and given it back to her against both their wills. But she still loved him and she still wanted him. But Tracey didn't know what to do. She didn't know how they could possibly circumnavigate that mountain. “He was angry,” was all she could think of to say.

“How long can he stay angry, Tracey?” Monica demanded. “And even if he is hot with you, he doesn't have any business acting like he did last night.”

“I'm an adult, Moni,” she countered through her shield. “He didn't do anything to me I didn't let him do.”

“Look at you, Tracey. And listen to yourself. This is no longer a black-white thing. It hasn't been for a long time. Now, I don't know what the real deal is between the two of you, but it's time to get over it. You hurt him, you hurt him badly. You tried to keep the one person he loves most in the world out of his life. That was you, you did it. But it is time now to get past that. He can't punish you, hurt you, for the rest of your life. And you can't let him. I don't understand how you guys function. You're civil and caring to each other one minute, pissed and fighting the next minute, then the next time I turn around you're in bed together. This doesn't make any sense, and it's destructive. It's time to heal, to move on.”