Reviving Haven (25 page)

I feel disoriented when a loud banging wakes me up, and then I realize that someone is knocking on my door, but my head is too fuzzy to discern which door it is. Is it my bedroom door? Is it Weezie? I look at my clock and it reads 11:30 p.m. I get up slowly, moving toward the sound. Weezie and I keep an aluminum bat by the front door—it’s our version of anti-gun protection. I grab the bat and open the peephole for a quick look.

“Open the door, Haven,” a gruff voice says.

It’s Latch. I put the bat down and open the door. The security light on the porch is blinding. It’s still raining and he’s soaked. His hair is so drenched that it’s plastered to his head. He edges past me and waits in the living room, dripping water all over the carpet. I can smell the alcohol fumes from the doorway.

“Stay here and I
’ll get you some towels,” I say as I shut the door behind me.

I grab three towels from the linen closet and hand them to him. He towels off his hair first, making it immediately curly and wild. He looks different, less self-assured, less Latch McKay. He pulls his shirt off. I take it from him and walk back to my bathroom to hang it over the shower door. As I walk out of my bathroom, Latch is waiting for me. His bare chest is damp from the rain, glistening like a beacon of lust and begging for my touch. Latch reaches out, taking my hand and placing it over his heart. My breath hitches
when my hand comes in contact with his chest.

“I can
’t be without you,
leannán,
I don’t want to even try,” he chokes out quietly.

“I don
’t want to be without you either,” I reply, whispering in return.

I caress his chest, then move my hand down to linger on his abdomen.

“I’m so sorry I scared you. I would never hurt you. Please believe me, Haven. I love you. It kills me to think that you’re afraid of me. It made me crazy.”

Maybe it
’s the wine, or maybe it’s all the crying and the overwhelming emptiness I felt when I thought I’d lost him, but I have to be with him. I feel like I’ll die if I’m not.

I run my hand back up his chest, reaching to his neck and pulling his head down to meet my mouth. His arms wind around me at the same time, and I feel the power and the passion in his embrace and his lips devour mine. Our tongues traipse a delectable dance, and I nip and suckle his lips with every breath I can steal while fused to his mouth. I trace the tip of my tongue over his lips and hear him groan, and then our mouths meld together in a carnal kiss that threatens to singe me on the spot.

I know he’s been drinking heavily. His mouth tastes like scotch, and after a few more minutes of make out madness, I’ll be drunk too. I don’t care right now, especially when his tongue tangles itself around mine and then mimics the deep fucking for which my body is begging.

Yeah, that
’s right . . . I said
fucking.
Tonight, I’m ripping up my prim and proper card. Weezie is fist pumping the air right now.

I
’m so turned on by our hot, desperate kisses that I arch into him, pressing my breasts into his chest. I can feel his wet pants brush against my legs, and I take that cue to pull back and fumble with the top button of his jeans. I stare straight into his eyes as I pop each button, and his eyes widen slightly as he stares back at me, as if he’s seeing me in a different light.

Good. Because I
’m hungry, and he doesn’t have any underwear on, of course.

Perfect.

For a moment, I feel like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room and the only thing I’m aware of is my heart pounding against my ribcage. My blood is singing with a voracious arousal, a type that I haven’t felt before—I’m predatory and I feel incredibly aggressive. And Latch is my prey—I have this overwhelming urge to claim him, to imprint myself on him so he understands that I don’t want to lose him again. The heat in my sex is pulsating and I can’t pull his jeans down fast enough.

Holy crap, I think I just growled . . .

His cock juts out, long and wonderfully hard, like veined marble. I shove him backwards toward my bedroom and onto my bed, pushing him until he falls down on the bed. His eyes narrow as he stares at me, and he seems a little shocked with my offensive tactics. I also don’t miss the glint in his darkening gaze or his nostrils flaring slightly as he is undoubtedly waiting for my next move.

I remove his shoes so I can get his jeans all the way off. I position myself on top and straddle him. His hands slide under my nightshirt, palming one breast and then the other. He yanks the shirt over my head and tosses it on the floor. His mouth zeroes in on my breasts, and his lips suckle one nipple as his fingers lightly pinch the other, making them heavy and aching with need. His hands tug on my shorts. I rise up slightly so he can pull them off, leaving me in just my panties. Latch growls and his hand dives under my thong, and two fingers immediately penetrate my sex.

“Jesus, I love how wet I make you.” His accent is noticeably thicker, most likely because he’s intoxicated.

“I need you inside me,” I moan.

He groans as he runs his hands over my ass. I feel his fingers wet with my arousal as he touches me. He pushes them back into my sex, and that almost does me in. My head flies back and I blindly focus on the ceiling as I start bucking slowly, groaning at the incredible sensations of riding his fingers while he’s beneath me. I have never been penetrated in this position, and the pleasure has my body humming with its intensity.

“You
’re on top, baby. You’re in charge. Tell me what you want, anything . . . I’m yours,” he mumbles.

My head snaps forward and I pierce him with a hot look. “Take off my underwear—tear them,” I demand. Latch is more than happy to comply as I feel them rip away from my body.

I center myself back on top of him. His eyes are partially closed and his face shows hunger, need. Raw lust has taken over. I reach beneath me and guide his cock, easing just the engorged head into my sex and rubbing it. I pull it back out. The friction is almost too much. My juices are flowing and dripping down his cock, making it wet and slippery in my hand. I keep repeating the process until I hear Latch swear.

“
Leannán
, if you keep it up, I’ll be coming, but not inside of you. Stop torturing me. Let me fuck you, please.” His voice is strained.

Oh, yes . . . he
’s begging for me. I think I like it.

I slide myself along his length, feeling Latch squirm in anticipated release. I lean forward then ease myself down on him until he
’s halfway in. Then I straighten and thrust myself onto his throbbing length. We both cry out at the same time and my hands clutch at his chest. He’s so deep inside me that I am stretched to capacity. I’m not sure if it’s the position or the sense of almost losing him, but the pleasure that’s spiking through my body is one I’ve never known.

Latch
’s hands hold onto my hips as he lifts me up slightly, then down, driving his hard shaft into my sex. We are both gasping for air as our bodies sync our movements, slapping against each other, moving faster and faster.

“
More
. . .” I cry out desperately.

Latch grunts and grips my hips tightly, helping me ride his cock by repeatedly moving me up and down hard and fast while snapping his hips upward, tunneling into me mercilessly.

My climax is rising to meteoric levels and I can feel Latch swelling inside me—he’ll be coming soon too. I slide my hand to my convulsing sex and use my fingers to manipulate my engorged clit, stroking it in tight circles. I cry out again, throwing my head back in ecstasy, and then Latch goes crazy. A feral noise comes from his throat and he’s yelling something in Gaelic—I have no idea what he’s saying, but I feel the action of his words. My legs are shaking and my body is ready to explode. I feel my sex clutch his cock tightly as he thrusts into me twice more and then he slams me down, burying his cock deep inside of me. He shouts my name and I feel his hot seed rush into me. I scream as I feel myself fall into that same euphoric bliss, my nails digging into his shoulders as my head slumps forward onto his chest.

We
’re both panting, trying to catch our breaths after our primal lovemaking. He’s still inside me, but that’s exactly where I want him when I lower myself to feel his chest press against mine. He brushes his lips against mine and I reach up to his face, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. They are damp with rain and the sweat from our bodies. His eyes glimmer with an amazing cobalt blue and rimmed in a dark jade green. I kiss him on his forehead, his eyelids, and on his nose, and I know he loves the tenderness. As I feel his erection diminish, I slide off him and stretch my sated body beside him. Latch takes my hand, kissing the inside of my palm.

“I love you
, baby.” His voice sounds tired but fulfilled.

I turn, spooning myself into his body and laying my arm across his waist. The only sounds are that of the rain hitting the gutter outside my bedroom. His breathing has evened out, but I can tell he
’s still awake. He tucks my body closer to him.

“Don
’t ever leave me,
leannán
.”

A few minutes later, he
’s sound asleep. I get up to use the bathroom, taking my clothes and his with me. Once inside, I wash up and get dressed. I pick his wet jeans off the floor and toss them over the shower door with his shirt.

I
’m developing some strong feelings for him. I realize now I can never have a casual relationship with Latch. I doubt if any woman could—she would always want more.

I crawl back into the bed and snuggle up to him. He turns slightly, laying his arm across me. I lean into him, pressing my face into his neck and placing my hand on top of his.

A loud scream jars me from my sleep. Daylight streams through my windows and Latch is not beside me. I throw the covers aside, following the sound of voices. As I walk into the kitchen, I see him at the counter, making coffee, and Weezie red faced in her t-shirt and boy shorts. I clear my throat as I stifle a chuckle. I wish I had a camera right now. Latch turns around and smiles. Yeah, there it is—that panty-melting smile. Yum.

Oh, good God, no wonder Weezie’s mute. Hell, I’m almost speechless. Latch is barefoot, his jeans are unbuttoned at the top and hang low on his hips, and he’s bare-chested, muscled, tan and tattooed. And he has sex hair.

“Really . . .” was all I could muster considering my mind went to that very naughty place, thinking if Weezie wasn
’t here right now, I’m pretty sure we’d be having sex on the kitchen counter.

“What?” he asks, trying to look innocent. “Just thought I
’d make coffee, but I wasn’t actually expecting to run into your roomy.” For some reason, his accent inflects a slightly thicker Scottish burr.

I choke back a snort. Weezie glares at me, then at Latch. However, the look she
’s giving Latch is more of a head to toe once over than a glare. I’ve never seen her so flustered by a man. She attempts to tug her shirt down, making sure her boy shorts are covered.

“I forgot he was here. I wasn
’t even sure if he spent the night,” Weezie explains.

I walk to the cabinet and pull out three mugs, and then stroll to the refrigerator to get the creamer.

“How’d you know he was even here? I didn’t hear you come in last night,” I ask her as I pour the coffee.

“No surprise there,” Weezie mumbles.

Latch hands a cup of coffee to Weezie. As I go to give Latch a cup, he takes it out of my hand and sets it on the counter. He puts his arms around me and fits me between his legs.

“Good morning,
leannán
,” he whispers, brushing his lips across mine.

Weezie turns and stalks back down the hall to her room.

“Gag,” I hear her say.

“Your roommate isn
’t very friendly, is she?” Latch asks, taking a sip of coffee.

“Oh, she
’s very friendly,” I chuckle. “I just don’t think she expected a half-naked Latch McKay in our kitchen at nine in the morning.”

Latch just shrugs and moves to sit on the sofa. We sit there and make small talk for an hour as we drink our coffee.

“Dinner with me tonight?” he asks hopefully, squeezing my hand.

“Okay, sure. What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at six. I called Marlon when I got up to pick me up at ten thirty.”

Latch stands up, walking to the kitchen and rinses out his cup in the sink.

“You’re leaving?” I ask, disappointed now, and very confused since we had just made up but now he is leaving.

He slips his arms around my waist and presses his body to mine. I love when he surrounds me like this, like a protective shield.

“I’m massively hungover. I need my miracle cure and a shower.”

“Cure . . . you have a cure for a hangover?” I ask curiously, wishing I had known about this when I was slamming tequila shots the first night we met.

Latch chuckles and squeezes me tighter. “It’s called ocean relief. I need to surf.”

I groan. “So let me get this straight, you
’re leaving the woman you professed your love to a few hours ago to go surfing?” I pretend to be upset.

“Baby, that freak rainstorm that just passed us left some really big waves. You wouldn
’t deny your man this pleasure, would you?” he pleads.

“Maybe not
this
pleasure, but probably a
different kind of
pleasure,” I say in a clipped voice.

Latch nuzzles my neck and licks his way to my mouth. His tongue slips between my eager lips at the same time I feel him palm my sensitive mound.

“You’ll never refuse me,
leannán
—I was made to fuck you. I get off just watching you come. It makes me insane knowing what I do to you. You can’t deny me—you love it too much.” There is no doubt in his voice. He’s right; I will always want him.

“Aw, shit, get a fucking room, will you?” Weezie says loudly as she marches into the kitchen. Latch and I burst out laughing at her apparent distress.

Weezie pours more coffee and then walks back to her room, slamming the door behind her.

“My mother is having her annual charity gala,” Latch says. He grabs his shirt from the back of one of the kitchen chairs and pulls it over his head. I sigh inwardly as his gorgeous chest disappears from view. “It
’s something she does every year. I want you to go with me—be my date?” he asks casually.

“You
’re asking me to meet your mother?” My voice is filled with trepidation.

“She won
’t bite . . . much.” He smirks. “She’ll be stunned by me bringing a date. I’ve only ever shown up with Keenan. Trust me . . . she’ll love you because I do.”

“You
’ve never taken a girlfriend before?” I sound astonished and somewhat shocked.

“I
’ve never had a girlfriend,” he replies nonchalantly.

I cock my head toward him. “Come on, Latch McKay, you
’ve had women forever, and I’m fairly sure at some point you’ve had a girlfriend,” I say suspiciously.

He takes my hand in his. “No woman ever meant enough to me to call her a girlfriend, let alone meet my mother. She can be trying,” he adds, combing his fingers through his hair. “This gala is formal, a black tie event.” His voice sounds annoyed.

“You mean evening gowns and fancy jewelry?” I ask. I’m sure my tone sounds agitated.

“Let
’s just say, I’m positive my mother demands it to be a black tie event because she knows how pissed I get at the entire ordeal. I can’t stand all that brownnosing bullshit, but if I don’t show up, she’ll go ballistic, and you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen my mother lose it. It’s not pretty,” he says, frowning.

I hear a knock on the door and I know it
’s Marlon.

“Time for me to go, baby, see you tonight. You can invite your roommate to go to the gala if you want.” He pauses a moment in his walk towards the door.

“Really, will Keenan Stone be there?” I ask anxiously.

Latch cracks the front door open and says something to Marlon. Then he shuts the door and turns to me.

“Why are you asking about Keenan? Is he someone I should be worried about?” He has a scowl on his face and jealousy in the tone of his voice.

I move close to him and touch his face. “Oh God, no, you
’re more than enough for me, Mr. McKay,” I say with humor. “Weezie has this major crush on him.” I roll my eyes as I yawn, trying to show Latch that I personally have no interest in Keenan.

He stands there with his arms crossed. “I see. Well, Keenan has always gone with me to these events. He
’s like family, so my mother expects him to make an appearance. I’m sure he’ll be attending. Bring her along and I’ll introduce them.”

“Great! She will lose her mind when she hears this.” I can
’t wait to tell Weezie.

Latch opens the door, turning his head back to kiss me. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“I know,” I reply in a hushed voice. I wish I could say it back, but I can’t. I’m afraid it’s too much responsibility if I love him. Once I have those feelings for him, I will allow him to have full control over me, it’s the only way I know and I can’t give my life over to someone again.

“See you tonight then,” Latch says as he closes the door behind him.

Weezie must have heard him leave because she saunters into the living room.

“Grouchy much?” I ask.

“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she replies, crossing her arms.

“That
’s what happens when you stay out all night, drinking. We aren’t in college anymore. You’re forty, not twenty-four. Personally, I don’t know how you do it. They would have to cart me off to the cemetery if I tried to keep up with your lifestyle.” I throw her a snide glance.

Weezie plops down on the recliner.

“Actually, I came home early to check on you. I had no idea that you and Mr. Boy Toy had made up.” She leans toward me. “Fuck me, after hearing you scream ‘Oh God’ about ten times last night, I almost felt like getting out of bed and going to church this morning.” Weezie rolls her eyes at me and feigns a prayer by pressing her palms together in front of her chest.

I
’m mortified and positive that I’m turning at least five shades of red.

“Oh God,” I say quietly.

“Not exactly . . . you were screaming it.” Weezie laughs, leaning back into the chair.

“If you do your impression from
When Harry Met Sally
, I’m going to kick you in your nether region,” I say menacingly, pinning her with a glare. Weezie starts laughing hysterically, clutching her belly. I patiently wait for her to calm down, and when she does, she wipes her eyes and then looks at me with disbelief.

“
Nether region?
Really?”

“Weezie . . .” I growl.

“Okay, okay . . . damn, I just mean that I knew this guy would fuck as hot as he looks, but I had no idea it would be so spiritual.”

“Ha ha, very funny, can we
not
dissect my sex life, please?” I plead.

“I
’m just glad to hear that you have a sex life. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you before. Now, personally, I think you’re a screamer. But Latch, he’s more a groaner, the grunter type.”

Weezie appears to have a very pleased look on her face as she watches me getting red faced with embarrassment.

“Stop it, please. You’re killing me.”

I get up and take my cup to the kitchen. “By the way, you want to be really nice to me,” I say with a piercing glare.

“I’m always nice to you.” Weezie says with a grumble.

“We
’ve been invited to Latch’s mother’s charity gala.”

“Really? No shit! He wants you to meet his mom?” I can tell Weezie is holding back a snort.

“Yes, unfortunately,” I reply with a sullen look on my face.

“Come on, no worries. It
’s going to be huge. You’ll be introduced, you’ll curtsey, and then you’ll hang with me and Latch, no big deal. It’s fancy and high profile, right?” she asks excitedly.

“Very funny, Latch
’s mother is Scottish, not royalty, so no courtesies are necessary. But it is high profile, and that would be the other problem. It’s ‘black tie’ fancy,” I announce, completely flustered and annoyed.

“Fabulous. I can finally drag out some of that designer bullshit I got on sale last year. Don
’t ask. They were on sale, too good of a bargain. And you’ll never know when you’ll be invited to a ball, Cinderella.” Weezie winks.

“Yeah, because we get invited to so many formal events,” I say, laughing. “By the way, you might want to check your foul language at the door. Keenan Stone will be there.” I grin.

This is the second time in the same day that Weezie goes mute. She has a dazed look on her face. Without a word, she gets up and goes to her room. Moments later, I hear hangers clattering against the wall mixed in with periodic swearwords. I laugh as I shake my head.

I go back to my bedroom and pull my closet door open. I stand there, taking stock of my wardrobe. I honestly don
’t own any formalwear. I do have some fancy dresses but they’re not
gala
appropriate. I could always borrow something from Weezie now that she has confessed to buying some formal wear. We had never been invited to a formal event in the last twenty years. I roll my eyes with the acknowledgement that I’m grateful Weezie is a clothes whore.

I decide to g
oogle Latch’s mother and her charity gala, and discover that she’s only eight years older than I am. I’m horrified. How is she going to react to me? Has Latch mentioned our age difference? Does she even know about me? I click on the tab that says “pictures” and my heart falls into my stomach as I look at the photographs from the prior year. The event is a who’s who of celebrities, politicians, famous artists and philanthropists from around the world. Latch’s mother is stunning. Latch’s looks were bred from his DNA. I’m so grateful that Weezie is going because I have a feeling I will need her support. The thought of even going to this hoity-toity shindig has me terrified, but I’ll do it. Latch and I are together; he wants me with him. I will embrace the event and everything that goes with it. The good
and
the bad.