Reviving Haven (23 page)

H
aven

I open the front door, tossing my bag on the chair.

“Hey, Weeze, you home?” I ask loudly.

Weezie comes around the corner with beer in one hand, cookies in the other.

“So, my BFF left a child and has returned a woman.” Weezie chuckles as she heads for the kitchen.

“Very funny, but I
’m pretty sure I was a woman before Latch.” I smirk as Weezie hands me a beer.

“Ah, yes, but now you
’ve been thoroughly fucked. You have that
just
got laid
glow.”

I know Weezie is baiting me for information.

“God, Weezie, you love throwing around that f-word,” I say, rolling my eyes.

I twist the cap off my beer as I sit on the sofa.

“What? You can do it, but not say it? FUCK!” Weezie bellows out and laughs as she sits down in the recliner. “So . . . details, lots and lots of details, because I need a good bedtime story so I can have some sweet dreams of my own while I’m using my vibrator.” She grins.

My eyes go wide. I take a sip of my beer, then lean back into the sofa and cross my arms.

“Weezie, you’ve never used a vibrator in your life. And there is no fricking way I’m giving you details, so forget it.” I glare at her, unfolding my arms to take another sip.

“God, you
’re moody. I can hardly tell you got laid. You still have so much pent up sexual hostility.” Weezie beams widely this time, flashing me her teeth. She’s in true form today.

I set my beer down, grab my bag and start walking to my bedroom. I
’m exhausted. All I want right now is a hot bath and my PJ’s. Well, if I’m honest, I want Latch too. I sigh. It’s only been ten minutes and I already miss him.

As I walk into my room, I turn to shout at Weezie in the living room. “He told me he loves me, you know.”

I hear the bottle of beer slam down on the coffee table and Weezie’s feet slapping the floor as she runs towards my room.

“What did you say? Say it again,” Weezie demands, albeit breathlessly.

I face her as I bend down to unzip my bag. “He told me he is in love with me.” I try to look subdued, but inside I’m overflowing with emotion.

“Latch McKay?” she questions again in disbelief.

“Okay, now you’re just pissing me off, Weeze. What, it’s so hard to believe that a man could love me? Gee, thanks for the support,” I reply angrily, pulling my clothes out of my bag.

Weezie grabs my elbow. “That
’s not what I meant. Shit. Did he tell you he loved you before he fucked you?” I can tell by her expression, this isn’t a pleasant question for her to ask. Her face is pained. No matter how many times
that
word comes out of Weezie’s mouth, it still sounds cold and crude. It’s bad enough when men say it, but I hate when it comes from Weezie.

I shake my finger at her. “Oh ye of little faith . . . after, way after,” I reply with an arrogant tone. “He
’s not what you think, Weeze. You’ll be surprised when you get to know him.”

I start towards my bathroom as Weezie moves towards the bedroom door. She stops, then looks at me questioningly. “When I get to know him . . . So, are you two, like, together now?” she wonders.

“What we are is open to interpretation. I did promise him that we could see each other again—basically, we’re going to take this day by day. I don’t know what’s going to happen. All I know is that I do like him. He’s really sweet and we have fun together.” I pause. A tiny smile curves my lips. “I think I might have a boyfriend.”

Weezie stares at me. I know she
’s concerned that I’ll get hurt and maybe I will, but at least for now, I need to give this a chance.

“You deserve some happiness. I
’m sorry I was acting like a bitchy BFF. I just worry, and I don’t want to see you get hurt. How do you feel about him? Could you love him, Haven?” Weezie looks at me with curiosity.

“No,” I reply flatly, turning the faucet on in the tub.

I can’t fall in love with Latch. It’s too dangerous. I’m too fragile and he’s too unpredictable. I really like him and he’s nice, but trust is something that’s earned, I won’t give it freely. If Latch truly wants me in his life, liking him would have to be enough for now.

“Goodnight, Haven, sweet dreams,” Weezie says, with a look of understanding on her face as she closes my bedroom door.

I step into the hot bath and spend thirty minutes soaking. Once I dry off, I throw on a pair of shorts with one of Latch’s t-shirts, which I had smuggled into my overnight bag. Latch’s scent lingers on it and fills me with warmness and content. I crawl into my bed and try to get some sleep. My phone dings with a text, and a nervous kind of excitement flutters in my belly when I see that it’s from Latch.

Sleep well leannán

I send him a text back.

You too

I close my phone, smiling. I switch off the light, close my eyes, and wait for sleep to take me so I can dream of the man who loves me.

If I could whistle, instead of the pathetic rush of air that usually passes through my lips, I would be doing it as I stroll into work. I actually feel confident. I casually walk into my office, tossing my things down on the sofa. I sit at my desk and dig into the day’s work. About two hours later, Denise taps on my door.

“Come on in,” I call out.

Denise walks in with a huge vase of the most beautiful pale pink roses I’ve ever seen. A smile crosses my face while thinking about Latch and my cheeks become warm.

“Do I need to call the rest home for these?” Denise asks smartly.

I stand up, taking the vase from her.

“No, I
’ll be keeping these. Thanks,” I reply, grinning while reaching for the card.

Denise stands there for a moment, then turns and exits, closing the door behind her. I quickly open the card.

Pink roses will always remind me of your lips—both pairs.

I start laughing. God, that man can make me blush without even being in the room. My cell phone rings as I lay the card down on my desk. As soon as I flip open my phone, there
’s a picture of Latch—sans shirt—with a phone number. He must have programmed it in my phone when I was with him over the weekend. I laugh.

“Yes,” I drawl teasingly.

“Now is that anyway to answer your phone when you know it’s the man of your dreams?” he jokes.

“You
’re awfully sure of yourself—conceited much?” I ask.

“Oh, I have no doubt that you want me right now,” he whispers into the phone. His voice is sensual and raw.

“Stop that,” I reprimand him, but there’s really no heat behind my words.

“Did you get my flowers?” I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I’m pretty sure you already know I did. Love the note by the way,” I muse.

“Couldn
’t help myself, I really miss those lips,” he pauses, “both pairs.”

I gasp, tugging at my skirt and then at the collar on my blouse. I can
’t believe how wanton I feel whenever I hear his voice and the things he says. My need is becoming insatiable.

“Latch, I have to go—I have a lot of work to do.” I need to end this conversation before he
initiates any phone sex. I chuckle at the thought of a delicious repeat, and then banish it from my mind.
Not now, insatiable woman!

“See you later,
leannán
?” Latch asks.

“If you want,” I reply nonchalantly.

“I want.”

I snap my phone closed. I touch one of the roses gently. The petals feel delicate and the scent is like expensive perfume. They look lush and sensual, like the man who sent them. I
’m enamored with him and I sigh, letting my imagination run away with the moment.
Okay, enough idle fantasy, Haven . . . back to reality for you.
I snap out of it and pull myself together. I have to work on invoices and placing new orders.

At around one o
’clock, I grab my purse with the full intention of getting lunch, hoping Denise hasn’t left yet. There’s a knock on my office door.

“Come in, Denise,” I say without looking up.

I hear a deep clearing of a man’s throat. My entire body recognizes the sound, and the man.

“Hey, baby,” he says, his voice deep, smoky and sexy.

He crosses the room and stands next to the roses. He’s dressed in black jeans that hang low on his hips. His black striped shirt is loosely tucked in, and the sleeves are rolled up to the elbows with the collar open at his throat. The only sign that speaks of affluence is the platinum Rolex on his right wrist. His arms are folded across his chest and he stares at me with hungry eyes. His stature insinuates raw lust and it seems to be saturating the room. I instantly feel a throbbing between my legs and heat flushing my skin.

“I believe I have a quota to
fill,” he states as he taps the vase that holds the roses. He plucks one of the roses from the vase, holding it in one hand as he moves toward me.

“Latch, we can
’t, not at my business—not in my office,” I affirm with a nervous flutter.

He crosses the room and moves out to the front of the store, peering around and not seeing anyone. He walks to the front door and I hear the lock turn. I realize now that Denise has gone to lunch and I
’m alone.

“Latch, please, someone might need a book or something. Denise might come back early,” I plead, throwing excuses at him.

“See, this is what happens when you choose not to submit, like yesterday—twice. Did you think I would let another day pass?”

He hands me the rose. My hand trembles as I take it. Everything in my brain is yelling NO,
NO, NO! But my body is totally ignoring all logic and screaming YES! Oh God, YES! I begin to perspire, out of hesitation and need. Dammit.

“Please, Latch,” I beg.

Latch closes the space between us, putting his hands on my hips. His touch makes my body go limp. He’s right—I will submit to anything and everything he wants. All it takes is one look from him and I’m putty.

“
Leannán
, you worry too much. Personally, I think it’s only fair that we christen your office as we did mine. Besides, the begging is kind of turning me on.” He flashes that panty-melting grin of his and arches one eyebrow.

He
’s standing so close to me that I can smell his toothpaste. I want nothing more right now than to kiss him.

“You want me to give you a pu—?”

I don’t get to finish the sentence. His lips crush mine with a possessiveness I haven’t felt from him before. His tongue sweeps the inside of my mouth. My breath quickens as I put my hands through his hair, trying to pull him closer. His steel-hard arousal is pressing into my belly, and my body automatically responds by rubbing against it like a cat in heat. As he pulls back slightly, his nostrils flare and his eyes are wild with blazing intent.

“Go to your desk,
leannán
.” The desperation and demand in his voice are clearly audible.

I cross the room to my desk and turn to look at him.

“I’m not going to fuck you,
leannán
, but I am going to make you come . . .
really
hard.”

He moves towards me. I back up slightly, biting my bottom lip.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks. I nod reluctantly.

He wedges his knee between my legs and forces them apart, as far as my pencil skirt allows.
His hands travel over my shoulders and chest, palming by breasts over my blouse and stroking them leisurely, then stopping to pinch one nipple softly but firmly. I can’t move because Latch has pressed himself snuggly against me, using my desk as support and leverage. He traps me with his shining green-blue gaze, and he gives me a smug smile that drives me insane.

Smart devil.

His hand lingers on my breast as he dips his head and nips at my neck with his teeth. His lips brush my collarbone as his tongue traces a path from my shoulder to my ear, where he circles his tongue along the rim, licking my lobe. My pulse spikes with need, and I’m fighting to hold onto my last shreds of control.

“Lift your skirt for me.” His breathing is shallow.

The sound of his voice and his proximity make me want to submit. He continues running his hand down the front of my blouse, making my nipples stiffen with sensitivity. I inhale sharply at the sensation. Latch’s eyes connect with mine, and I know our need and desire are the same. I am captivated and I don’t hesitate. Hypnotically, I slowly begin inching up my skirt. I hear him suck in a hissing breath as my panties—fetching plain, white satin ones with tiny pearls—become visible. Latch smiles dangerously and licks his lips in approval.

Latch moves in close, restricting my movement by caging my body with his. He locks his passionate gaze with mine as his hand moves from my breasts and slides down across the top of my panties, lingering, tantalizing. He
’s deliberately taunting and teasing me. I hold my breath in anticipation of what he will do next. His hand glides over my mound, slightly grazing my thigh. My panties feel drenched and the heat in my sex is pulsing. I want . . . no, I
need
release. His fingers drift back up to the top of my thong and dip underneath the elastic band, coming in contact with slick, swollen lips. I shudder and try to hold back a cry. Latch’s face is a tight mask emitting total control. The only signs of him being aroused are his darkening gaze and his rock hard shaft as it presses up against me.

Latch
slides two fingers into me. I cry out in pleasure and relief.

“Quiet,
leannán
. . . don’t make me gag you.” His eyes flash a warning.

For some reason, the thought of Latch gagging me excites me and my eyes flare at his threat.

“Is that something you want me to do, Haven? I’ve never really been into the whole bondage thing, but I would do it for you, if that’s what you want,” he says in a hushed tone, nudging my cheek with his chin.

His finger and thumb and softly pinch my clit, turning it into a hard little nub. He begins rotating it in continuous circles, stopping to delve into my wetness, which he uses to lubricate my outer lips. His breathing comes in short, quiet gasps like mine. I lean forward, placing my head on his chest.

“God, I want to be inside of you right now. To feel your pussy tighten around my cock, immersing myself in you and having you completely drain me dry,” he voices between pants. “I need you to come for me, baby. Let me watch it overtake you and make you scream.”

Locking his molten gaze on mine, he thrusts those two fingers back into my slick channel and m
y inner muscles clamp down. He smiles wickedly at the sound of my raptured moan and then he starts twisting his fingers, moving up and down in a corkscrew fashion. I’m starting to lose the last tiny shreds of my control and my pelvis snaps forward, pressing his fingers deep into my heated core.

“Oh, yeah . . . that
’s it, baby . . . fuck my fingers just like that. Show me how wet I make you.” Latch’s eyes are gleaming and his cheeks are flushed with excitement and desire at my unraveling. I feel him crook his fingers inside me and stroke a spot that sends an incredible sensation rippling through my body like a shockwave. He continues brushing the pads of his fingers there—
oh yes, right there!
— and I writhe desperately in his arms, mewling and gasping for more.

He groans as I drive myself into his hand as far as I can go. I reach up, grabbing Latch
’s shoulders and pressing my face into his chest. I’m bucking madly in his embrace, and the sensation rising through my body feels like I’m on the edge of something amazing, but it feels too good to go over. The faster Latch’s fingers move, the closer I’m getting to a glorious release. My body stiffens like a tightly strung bow, and then it snaps, hurtling me into an explosive orgasm. I sob into Latch’s chest as I continue to rock my hips in his hand. I look up into his face and see his eyes hooded with his desire.

He removes his hand from my panties and puts his fingers to his lips. They are dripping wet with my climax and, for a moment, I feel slightly self-consciousness. He runs his fingers over his lips, widening his hungry eyes and fixating on mine. He seems to be savoring the taste of my most intimate juices as he licks the tips of his fingers. He looks gratified. He
’s done this before, but I can watch him this time. It’s almost scandalous to see. I let out a contented sigh and push my skirt back down. Latch wraps his arms around me, grazing my lips with a kiss, and I can taste myself on his mouth.

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

These words, and the sound of his voice, make me cling tighter. He pulls out his shirt and tucks it back into his pants. Then he re-rolls the sleeves and straightens the collar. Exactly whom is he kidding here? We both look like we just had an afternoon delight. I choke down my smirk.

“What’s so funny?” he asks as he combs his fingers through his hair.

“Oh, just the fact that you think situating your clothing is going to make it less apparent that you just had sex. I mean really, Latch, your hair looks like you get laid every ten seconds.” I snort.

“But . . . we didn’t have sex. I mean, we could. I’m game.” He cocks an eyebrow at me.

I grab his arm, pulling him toward my office door.

“Honestly, as inviting as that sounds, and you know it is, you’re turning me into a wanton woman. I have a business to run and so do you. Now go back and make another million dollars.” I grin.

Latch looks at me with that crooked smile.

“Baby, I made that before lunch. By the way, I left you a ‘to-do list’ for this week, kind of like a schedule.” He looks at me, smirking yet again.

I walk over to my desk and see a piece of letter-size paper with huge block print smack dab in the middle of the black desk blotter.

Things to do this week: Me.

Okay, so I can
’t help but laugh. I have to admit, Latch knows how to put a smile on my face. He stands leaning up against the door, laughing. But even with that grin on his face, messy hair and a hundred thousand dollar watch, he still looks extremely young at this moment. Taking stock of that, I suddenly feel flustered. Why am I letting the age thing bother me so much? With a twelve-year age gap, eventually he’ll want someone younger, they always do. I’ll always feel like I’m not good enough. There will always be that nagging doubt in the back of my mind—
if he’s like Jared, then he’s a cheater.
I do not intend to feel that kind of pain again. Yet somehow, I have put myself in a position to do just that. I have spent almost a month of doing nothing but running from and to Latch. My indecision will either make me go crazy or drive us apart.