Thrive (4 page)

“You sit on your butt and fold one leg under the other.” I grinned.

“It looks unnatural.” He winced and tried not to smile, but it broke through and darted across his lips. It was a stunning smile, and one I hadn’t seen enough of.

He handed me our coffees and laid across the bed, his head propped up on one end and his long, muscular legs dangled over the other. He swapped the paper bag for his coffee and I set our breakfast out; toast, butter and two little glass jars of strawberry jam.

“I knew they’d do that.”  He threw the jars across the room and reached into his pocket to replace them with two sachets of Nutella.

“You don’t like-?” I halted, remembering the story he told me all those years ago. He was thinking of his parents, his mother. That tiny act of disregard told me part of what haunted him.

“No,” he answered my unfinished question and began buttering toast with a little plastic knife.

“I thought we only had fifteen minutes?” I swiped a slice of buttery, hazelnut and chocolatey toast and sunk my teeth into it.

My stomach growled in satisfaction and a similar sound hummed in my throat. I was starving.

“It’s still early…we have some time.”

He bit into his slice, making the same sound of reunion between food, mouth and stomach as I had.

I leaned over and reached towards him, wiping my thumb over his lips to catch the crumbs and popping it into my mouth. Curtis groaned again, but not because of the food.

“Look in the bag,” he said by means of distraction and took a mouthful of his coffee.

The mix of scents – Curtis, coffee and Nutella – made the warmth in my blood return. My senses were jacked. So jacked. I still had no idea what was going on; I wanted him, but I didn’t want to. I needed him and I didn’t know why.

I brushed my hands clean and reached into the bag, pulling out a pair of dark jeans and a crisp white t-shirt. A grey jacket came out next, along with a pair of ballet pumps of the same shade, and underwear; a pair of French shorts and a bra, in silver-grey.

“Curtis-”

“I didn’t look. I told my secretary your sizes and she arranged it.”

“At five thirty in the morning?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I live in the city, Skye. Anything and everything can be arranged by picking up a phone.”

“And you sent your secretary on a dawn mission to dress me?”

“No. I text her while you were sleeping last night. What’s with the attitude? You can't go to the hotel dressed like that.” He took a mouthful of coffee. “You needed clothes, I arranged them.”

Why did he not understand having his secretary order clothes from the city on a Saturday night and have them delivered to Hampshire, seven hours later, was a big deal? He shrugged it off and continued eating.

I really had no idea who Curtis was any more, and I daren’t ask how he got coffee from Starbucks so early in the morning.

“There’s a place across the road. Open twenty-four hours…for lorry drivers, I guess,” he mumbled, answering my unasked question without even looking at me.

“Why are we going to the hotel?”

“To get your stuff and check you out. Eat up.”

I took a sip of coffee and my eyes rolled back as the warm morning juice slid down my throat. It was exactly how I liked it. I took another eager sip, and another. God, it was good, and brought a sense of vitality with it.

“What are we doing after we’re checked out?”

I didn’t tell him that my caffeine-stimulated mind had conjured up an escape plan. I didn’t want to leave him, but I had a feeling my sanity was riding on this and for the sake of saving it, I had to get away.

Curtis lifted his cup to his mouth and peered at me as he drank it. He knew.

He lowered the cup and licked his full lips.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

I should have let her go – we all know that – but I couldn’t. I’d spent my entire life searching for Skye and now that she was in my grasp, I was keeping her there. Was she in trouble? Yes. We both were. But we couldn’t be separated now; I wouldn’t allow it.

And her body…God, her body was made for me. There was nothing I wanted more than to lose myself in her until the rest of the world faded into the distance. Screwed up uncle/fathers, messed up criminal girlfriends, secrets we couldn’t even anticipate the impact of; families torn apart that were about to be reduced to scraps of people with nothing but the same last name…and yet all that mattered was her. Us. Being together and keeping each other safe.

It was on the tip of my tongue every time she asked a question that would reveal everything if I answered it, to just tie her down, make her listen and reel off every bad thing I’d ever done, to drag her into the darkness with me so I wouldn’t have to be paranoid anymore.

Still think I’m the hero? Still think I’m worth saving?

I bet you’re not so sure now.

~Curtis~

The car crunched over the gravel as Curtis pulled up and parked the car. The ride here had been quiet; I was paranoid, convinced he knew what I was thinking. He’d always had the ability to figure me out, and I guessed that hadn’t changed during our separation. He always knew what I was thinking, often before I was.

We got out of the car and Curtis placed his hand on the bottom of my back as we walked towards the entrance of the hotel. We stopped at the desk in reception and were greeted by the receptionist.

“Do you have a reservation?” she asked with a tight professional smile on her lips, but a Curtis-induced gleam in her eyes.

She was checking him out, blatantly, and I tried to ignore the pang of jealousy, of
possessiveness
, that hit me. He looked gorgeous; I didn’t blame her for staring. In jeans the same colour as mine and a black shirt that gave him a magnetic yet untouchable edge, he looked completely irresistible. The ink on his arms was showcased by rolled up sleeves; a shimmering silver watch and hand-tousled hair added to the look – he was a dark, powerfully seductive god.

“No,” he replied, earning a sway from the receptionist. “We have two separate rooms and we need to collect our things and check out.”

“Okay, go ahead and clear your rooms, and we’ll check you out when you’re done.”

Curtis nodded, thanked her for her assistance – no doubt initiating thoughts in the pretty brunette’s head of other ways she could assist him, and he steered me towards the lifts. A car arrived almost immediately and we stepped inside.

“Wouldn’t it be quicker if I went and got my things while you get yours?” I asked, sensing my chance slipping away from me.

“No.” His fingers flexed against my back. It sent a spark rippling up my spine and resulted in a sigh escaping my lips. “I’m not risking it.”

“Risking what?” My voice was shaky, unable to conceal the fear that I’d been caught.

“Phil.”

One word. One name. The reminder of why we were here, in this situation, and why I had to get out.

We stepped out of the lift and crossed the hallway to Curtis’ suite. He swiped the keycard in the lock and we entered the room. I kept my back to the closed door and tried to hatch a plan while I watched Curtis gather up his few belongings and shove them into a bag already set out on the bed.

***

I moved around the room, hyperaware of Curtis’ eyes on me as I collected up my clothes and folded them up before placing them in my suitcase slowly, to buy me some time.

“Where is everyone?” He asked, scanning the lodge.

“Beth arranged a day of clay pigeon shooting before she and Jack leave for their honeymoon.” I closed the case and pinched the zip. “Can you go into the living area and grab my jacket, please?”

He backed out of the room with a nod. “What does it look like?”

“Black leather. It’s on the stand in the corner by the TV.”

He turned on his heels and when I heard his heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, I made a run for it. I grabbed my bunny from under my pillow, slung my bag over my shoulder and pulled my case behind me as I ran from the room. I threw myself out the front door, dragging my case along the lawn and ran as fast as I could.

A strong arm snaked around my waist as I made it to the threshold of the garden, and pulled me to an abrupt stop. I hadn’t heard him chasing after me, but I felt Curtis’ warm breath against my neck as he pulled my body roughly back into his and spoke gruffly in my ear.

“Why are you running, Skye?”

His other arm reached out in front of me and he dropped my jacket to the floor by my feet. His arm closed around me, caging me in. I felt my pulse racing, but the roaring in my ears, of fear and arousal, couldn’t block out his voice.

“I’m trying really hard to be gentle with you.” He spoke softly, but his chest was tense, rising and falling heavily against my back; his face was set like stone, his teeth grazing my ear. “Why are you running away, Skillet?”

“Don’t call me that,” I growled. “I don’t want to stay with you. You can't hold me against my will.”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want.” My stomach tightened at his rough tone and a desperate whimper left me, stealing my composure. “You don’t want me, Skillet?”

He hands slid lower, resting on my belly and holding me tighter. That word, that fucking name, made me want to scream; to claw and thrash and bite. I tried, but he held me still, stopping me from putting up a fight. I wanted to fight back, to hurt; I wanted to inflict an unmeasurable amount of pain on Cut Throat fucking Curtis.

“No.”

“Oh, baby.” His hand slipped between my legs and held me with a firm grip. My hips rolled involuntarily into him as my legs squeezed around his wrist. “Your body is telling a different story.”

“Curtis, please. People will see us.”

“You don’t want an audience?”

He yanked me backwards, pulling me towards the house, never loosening his grip on me. I closed my eyes and waited for his next move. My body spun and my face was pressed to something cold; my nipples stiffened against my bra and the cold surface I was thrust into, and Curtis eased his hand onto the back of my neck to hold me where he wanted me. I opened my eyes. My cheek was pressed to the wall of the lodge.

“Curtis, please.”

“Say it,” he breathed and pulled my hips back with the same aggression that laced his voice.

“Say what?”

“Just say no, Skillet…and say it like you mean it.”

He tugged my waistband. I groaned and closed my eyes. I could give in, just for a minute.

“I…I can’t.”

In one swift move, Curtis pulled my jeans and underwear to my ankles and the cold morning air nipped at my exposed flesh. I shrieked when his mouth collided with my swollen, moist heat and I tried to wiggle free, but his hands squeezed my ass, parting me for his tongue to lap and stroke. My hands curled into tight balls; I pounded them against the wall as the pleasure slammed into me. Curtis’ face was buried between my legs, open for all to see, but I didn’t care. I needed this. My legs trembled and my teeth dug into my bottom lip, drawing blood to the surface to keep the scream contained. I closed my eyes as my mind spun with unwanted but desperate pleasure. My legs buckled as Curtis stood up, wrapped his arms around me and rammed his cock in deep in one rough, unrestrained move. His thrusts were hard, relentless, shunting me into the wall and giving me no time to think, or breathe. When he was inside me, filling me, controlling my body, my thoughts evaporated. I knew it was wrong, unhealthy, dangerous, but I couldn’t stop it. For the precious few moments we were together, I was his; mind, body and soul. Willingly…and it terrified me.

The tears welled up and began to stream from my eyes as my body climbed higher and the tension, the oncoming explosion, moved in, edging ever closer until it surrounded me. Curtis held onto my waist with one hand and the fingers of the other tangled in my hair. The grunts that escaped him, the hisses that left through clenched teeth, sent me higher and I was soon moaning freely, giving into the pleasure that surged through me and washed away my sins. I knew Curtis was close, holding on for me, but I couldn’t do it. His body was tense, his movements rough and uneven. His swollen cock, as deep as my body would allow, stroked the spot inside me that was like a switch, guaranteed to have me exploding in seconds. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let go.

“Skye.” He pulled my hair harder, as if to grab my attention and bring me out of a trance.

It worked. My body trembled as it fought against my mind, desperate for a release I couldn’t find. My hands clawed at the wall, searching for a grip, an outlet for the pleasure, but it failed.

“Skye,” Curtis growled, growing impatient. He was resisting his own release because I hadn’t found mine.

“I can't,” I choked, reaching behind me to grab his ass and dig my nails in deep.

His movements slowed, his hips rolled with long, deliberate strokes and I gasped, a groan forming low in my throat. His hands loosened their hold and one came up to caress the curve of my spine. Another tear fell and I squeezed my eyes shut. He’d gone from animal to angel in a beat and my heart couldn’t keep up. He knew what I needed. A connection more than something mindless – more than something physical.

“Come with me,” I breathed, my voice a needy cry for comfort. “Please, Curtis. Come with me.”

His fingers flexed, a groan vibrated through him and travelled through me, setting my blood on fire. He slowed further, each move deliberately comforting as he searched for his release. As his hand stroked my hair, his other moved around the front to gently lead me to the edge.

“Come, Curtis.” I rolled my hips. “Come for me, baby.”

He gripped my hips, held me still and let himself go, spilling into me. The pulse of his cock throbbing inside me sent me over the edge and finally, my body found freedom.

***

We were in the car; where we were heading, I had no idea. I was too exhausted, physically and mentally, to risk another argument, so I sat quietly and watched fields of trees and little rows of houses and shops whip by the window.

We’d said nothing since our bodies parted. Curtis ordered me to go and clean up and he carried our bags to reception when we checked out. We were raw after what happened, we both knew that, and talking about it would have led to another disagreement. We were so out of sync, but fucked up enough by each other to find a rhythm that worked for us. He needed to give without taking from me; I knew he felt like he owed me – for the past, the present and for whatever the future held for us. But I couldn’t take without giving. I wasn’t innocent.

Rewind eleven years.

If I had made a different choice, life would have been different. For everyone. If I had refused to take Oliver’s money, refused to leave Curtis, things would have been different. Curtis and I might not have made it but we would have no regrets – no what ifs hanging over us. Thomas would have found someone who deserved him and gave him everything he deserved; marriage, children and someone to grow blissfully old with. I ruined that, by taking thirty thousand pounds and running away.

Curtis and I had both made mistakes and we were searching for forgiveness in each other; something neither of us could find because we didn’t have it to give. We were stuck in limbo and that frightened me. We weren’t good for each other, but we were drawn together; bound by some invisible and confusing force. I had no idea if we would find the healing we both so desperately longed for…or if we would tear each other apart and be left with nothing. Again.

The sound of a phone ringing cut through the muted radio speakers and brought me out of my thoughts. Curtis pushed a button on the steering wheel and answered the call.

“Angelica.”

“Good morning, Mr Mason.” A carefree voice drifted out of the speakers; a professional voice with a formality that told me they shared an understanding. “How was your weekend?”

“Good. Angelica, I’m not alone. What’s up?”

“Oh, sorry,” she stuttered. “Are you coming into the office?”

“Why?”

“Yusef needs those reports signed. There’s a problem with one of the boys. Dale was arrested for getting into a bar brawl over the weekend. And…” Her voice dropped until it was barely above a whisper. “Ms Tattersell is looking for you.”

Why did she say that nervously? Who was Ms Tattersell?

“I’m on my way in.”

“Thanks, boss. See you soon.”

Curtis pressed the button again and the call ended.

“Your secretary?” I asked, crossing my arms and returning my gaze to outside the window.

“Yes.”

“Do you fuck her to get her to do what you want, too?”

“Don’t start.” His hands twisted on the wheel. “I employ her. I make sure she pays her rent and feeds her kids.”

Kids.
I shuddered.

“And who’s Ms Tattersell?” No answer. I glanced over at him. His face was expressionless, his eyes straight ahead; his hands still gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white. “Curtis?”