Reviving Haven (22 page)

“Always running from me,
leannán
?” He smiles, not letting go.

“Not running, just going home. I
’m exhausted. I’ve had more orgasms this weekend than I’ve had in my entire life,” I say in a low voice filled with embarrassment. “Should I be thanking you?” I sigh as I brush my lips against his.

“Okay, now that
’s truly a travesty. Really, babe, you should be having one at least every day, and I’ll be there to make sure that quota is reached.” His reply sounds more like a promise than a threat.

I manage to break out of his hold and stand up. I reach for Latch
’s hand to pull him off the couch. He reluctantly stands, his shaft straining against the fabric of his shorts, demanding attention. For some reason, his expression amuses me. Maybe it’s because I’ve never affected men like this before. Latch appears frustrated, not happy at all.

“I
’m only going home. I’m not running from you, I swear. I’ll see you this week or . . . tomorrow night if you want.” I start for the stairs, but I stop and turn to look at Latch. “Do not follow me up these stairs, Mr. McKay,” I growl at him.

I know damn well if Latch corners me in his bedroom, I will submit. I have no willpower with him, especially in closed spaces. I have to fight myself right now because I want to touch him so badly, but I know another round of sex with him will lead to me staying another night. I quickly grab my overnight bag and head back downstairs. Latch is sitting on the sofa, mumbling while trying to rearrange himself in his shorts. I almost laugh because he does look rather forlorn.

“I’ll be taking you home,” he announces, surprising me with the news. I had expected his driver to take me.

“Didn
’t you leave your car at the restaurant?” I ask, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

“Yeah, but I have another two in the garage,” he replies, shrugging.

Latch has three cars and a limo service, I just managed to pay off my four-year-old car last year.

Latch strolls outside to his garage. I wait with anticipation, wondering if his vehicle will be a Lamborghini or a Ferrari. I silently snort because both those cars scream manwhore, or very rich manwhore, depending on the model. I meet him outside at the top of the stairs. He takes my overnight bag and slings it on his shoulder. Then he takes my hand, turning it over and kissing my palm. My eyes meet his and I melt. As we walk down the stairs, I can hear the motor running. As I
get closer to the sound, my eyes almost pop out of their sockets. I can now add owner of the hottest car ever made to his list of accomplishments. He opens the passenger door and tosses my bag in the backseat. As I slide onto the seat, he closes the door for me. He walks over to the driver’s side and gets in. He revs up the engine two or three times and I feel the vibrations course through my body.

“I have a confession—this is my number one baby,” he muses as he pats the steering wheel.

“Oh, I would never try to compete with a Shelby. I love these cars,” I reply, rubbing my hand gingerly across the dash.

“You know cars?” He sounds surprised.

“Don’t sound so shocked, I was raised around muscle cars. My dad is a huge car enthusiast. There are many things you don’t know about me, Mr. McKay, just because you rifled through my purse doesn’t mean you know everything about me. Women have to keep some secrets, you know. I do admit I’m really floored with your automobile choice. You are always surprising me.” I place my hand on his thigh and gently squeeze.

“You were expecting a manwhore car, right?” He jokes. I nod in confirmation, struggling to suppress the gale of laughter threatening to escape from my lips.

He shakes his head good-naturedly, smiling, puts the car into gear and we tear out of the drive, making our way down the coastline. This Shelby reflects the driver: sexy, erotic, and passionate. Even the color is the same dominate shade of deep green as his eyes.

We arrive at my condo half an hour later and a melancholy feeling fills me. At the top of the drive, he cuts the motor and reaches over to turn off the radio. I suddenly feel nervous. We sit in silence and I wonder if he really means the things he said before or if this is where the anvil falls. Latch
’s expression turns serious as he stares into the driver’s side window.

As if speaking to his reflection, he says, “I need you to understand that I
’m in uncharted territory, so cut me some slack if this doesn’t come out like I want it to. What I feel for you Haven . . . well, it’s painful, and my heart aches. I can hardly breathe when you’re not in the room. I know it hasn’t been long. It’s only been a few weeks since we met and we squeezed getting to know each other into one weekend, but I have no doubts— not about you. I’m truly, deeply, crazy, life altering in love with you. I need you to know and believe that you’re the only woman I’ve ever taken home, had in my own bed. You’re it for me. I want you. I want there to be an
us
.”

I suck in a breath, electrified by the intensity in his words. He
’s still not facing me, but his arm reaches out and he unerringly grasps my hand with his.

“If all this scares the shit out of you, then let
’s be scared together. I’m not asking you to feel the same right now. I’m just asking you, please, to give us a chance. I know you think the age difference is a major deal, but I would rather be with you right now than go a lifetime without you. Don’t throw us away because you’re afraid of what might happen down the line. Please.” His voice sounds anguished.

He finally turns to me, doing the one act that touches my heart every time—he kisses the inside of my palm and breathes my name. My eyes fill with tears, happy tears, but I blink them back. I
’m not used to a man being so genuine and pouring out his heart to me. I fumble with the seat belt so I can slide over to him and reach for his neck to pull him into me. My lips cover his, and I feel like I can’t get close enough. Our tongues twist together and a heavy sigh comes from Latch’s throat. I put my hand in his lap and feel his burgeoning want. I lightly brush my hand along its length. His hand glides through my hair, releasing the band that holds my ponytail. As my hair tumbles down my back, he draws me in closer, pressing his lips to my neck and tracing the tip of his tongue down to my collarbone. If I don’t get out of the car right now, I’m going to straddle him in the front seat of his Shelby and take
him
for a ride. A smile crosses my lips at the wild thought. Latch pulls back to look at me.

“You find this amusing, do you? Leaving me hot and bothered, twice?” he asks as he looks down at his crotch and tries to adjust the fabric of his shorts to accommodate his erection.

“Mr. McKay, I’m convinced you get a hard-on if the wind blows.” I laugh, reaching behind me to grab my bag.

I push on the car door to get out, but Latch tugs me back in. “Let me walk you to your door,” he says.

He gets out of the car and walks over to my side, opening the door and taking my hand to help me out. We stroll slowly up the entrance path.

“Haven, you haven
’t said anything about what I said to you in the car. It didn’t scare you away, did it?”

He takes my bag from me and sets it on the ground. I close the space between us and stand on my toes, and he bends his head down, bringing us almost eye to eye. There
’s a palpable intensity arcing between us.

“I can
’t lie—I am kind of stunned. I was sure I was just another one of your women. I mean, everything has happened so fast between us. I assumed you just wanted a physical thing, nothing more. This, what we are or have . . . it’s all new to me. I’ve never had this—whatever this is.” I reply as honest as I can.

For a moment, hesitation passes through Latch
’s eyes. Maybe he thinks I’m walking away.

“I like you, Latch, a little too much. I can
’t promise you anything except that I won’t run. Just give us some time . . . You’ve seen how my emotions can fluctuate. I’m not even sure I’m in a good enough place even to give more to a relationship. You’ll have to be patient. I’m not saying no—I’m just saying not now. Is that okay?”

I twist my hair with my finger, a nervous habit I have whenever I get stressed over something important. Latch
’s eyes light up and he appears relieved. I swear I hear him exhale a breath of relief.

“Okay, does being patient include . . . you know, benefits?” he asks awkwardly.

Oh, I plan to make him squirm, just for fun. He’s just too easy to torment.

“I don
’t know what you mean, Latch,” I reply as I bat my eyelashes, pretending ignorance.

“Oh, I do think you know what I
’m asking,” he banters back.

Latch grabs me around the waist, pulling me close enough that he can force his thigh in between mine. He pushes my legs apart. His cock is hard as he presses it against my core. Even though I feel hot, a cold shiver runs down my body and wetness floods my panties as a whispered cry leaves my mouth. I reach under his shirt, running my hands up to his neck, down his chest and just into his waistband. His flesh feels like warm silk.

“What I meant to ask you is can I still
fuck
you?” He breathes the word “fuck” into my ear.

I
’m so ready, I feel like I can come. I have to physically squeeze my legs together and grit my teeth. I casually push him back, pretending not to be affected, but Latch’s sexy chuckle tells me he knows better.

“Yes . . . sex . . . of course.” I can hardly get my mouth to work I
’m so amped up.

Latch grabs my bag, handing it to me and walking me to my front door. I watch him cradle his crotch with his hand while he eyes me carefully.

“I love you,
leannán
,” he says softly.

I was with Jared for six years and he only verbally told me he loved me one time. After that, he told me he shouldn
’t have to say it again—I should just know it.

In this moment, there
’s no doubt that Latch truly believes he loves me. I can pretend he doesn’t, that he hasn’t known me long enough, that he doesn’t know real love, but somewhere deep inside I choose to believe him. I’m just not sure if I should be happy or worried. There is no getting around the age difference. If he wants this to be seriously long term, he’ll want marriage and children, and that’s something I can never give him.

I haven
’t been in a relationship in seven years. I was sure I would never be in one again—and one with a younger man, hell, that had never crossed my mind. I know Latch has never had any serious relationships. He wasn’t lying when he spoke of being in uncharted territory, and that makes both of us. I spent so much time dwelling on the fact that he would break my heart, it never crossed my mind that I might be the one to fracture his.

Latch presses one more kiss to my lips before he gets back into his car. I watch Latch drive away, and it already feels like I miss him. I need to pull myself together for the workweek ahead of me. Will things will be different now because I have a boyfriend?

Wait, is Latch my boyfriend?

Technically, he is a boy and a friend, so I
’m going with boyfriend. I smile like some deranged fool, because I realize now that I do, indeed, have a boyfriend.

L
atch

The way I feel is freaking me out. It
’s only been five minutes and I’m having withdrawals from not being with her. Do I really love her? Fuck, I better, since I already blurted out the words, professing my love for her like some teenage boy. I’ve never felt this way about any woman, ever. The woman twists me into knots, but I know I want her. I need her.

I
’ve never met anyone like Haven. The way she comes across at times seems like she is so insecure, it’s as if she’s been sheltered from her own emotions. Sexually, she’s like a caterpillar, waiting for me to seduce her from her chrysalis so she can really live as a butterfly. Every aspect of touching her feels experimental. Being inside her is probably the closest I’ve ever been to actually being in heaven. I can barely remember the women before because all I can see is a future with her.

It torments me that I might be in love by myself. I don
’t think she trusts me, and why should she? She doesn’t know me except for the news on the internet and in the tabloids. I have no defense here. I’m a whore. I like to fuck and I’m great at it, but that’s only a slice of me, although a juicy one. I’m also smart, talented and creative. She says I’m pretty and nice. Ugh! Kiss of fucking death, so in retrospect, I’m a talented, creative, nice, pretty whore. If I can just get her to trust me, then maybe she’ll love me. I told her from now on I’m only
her
womanizing manwhore, no one else’s. I’m sure she thinks that I’ve said that to countless other women, but promising exclusivity and saying, those
three words
have never passed my lips.

I
’m afraid, actually terrified, she’ll find out about the real me. I’m the consummate expert at hiding my secrets and keeping all things hidden. The only person privy to my dark side is Keenan, who, as long as I keep myself in check, will stay silent. Having Keenan know has its price. He’s continuously nagging, threatening and hovering over me. I know Keenan thinks he’s helping me every time he goes into a sermon, but honestly, it drives me closer to the darkness, not away from it.

Forty-eight hours. I went two fucking days without being sucked into the black hole, without quelling my thirst for
the high
. I can never let Haven see me in that state. She’s a runner. Finding out about the dark me would cause her to run far away from me. I feel her pain, her ache and constant self-doubt. I know she’s broken, but I’m just bent. If she’ll love me, we can mend each other. When she’s with me, I feel whole, solid and indestructible. The only addiction I want is her. Haven extinguishes the pull and I don’t feel so enslaved.