He yanked at her top and had it off in an instant. His hands found her breasts and cupped them. He unclasped her bra, and his lips suckled pink nipples, his tongue taking one and licking around the edge, then pulling the pert tip deep into his mouth.
The desire to make her shriek his name, to prove to himself and to her that their night long ago had meant something, was overwhelming. His hand reached around and tugged the zipper of her skirt. The fabric fell to her ankles, and she was nearly naked before him. Her flesh was softer, her curves rounder and fuller—the curves of a woman, a mother, who had borne his son. He twisted the tiny wisp of fabric over her hip that held her panties in place and covered her patch of curls. Now. Now she stood naked before him in high heels. He grasped the back of her neck and pulled his lips from hers and held her steady before him.
His eyes traveled over her naked flesh. Yes, this insatiable lust that he could barely control when she was with him, this desire, consumed him. A deep breath as her eyes locked with his. One hand traveled down her belly to the wet spot between her legs. His finger slid over her engorged clit, and he pressed her nub while he watched her eyes. He circled slowly, ever so slowly. Her nostrils flared and she tried to look away, but with a firm grasp at the back of her neck, he forced her eyes to remain on his.
“You ran from this.”
Her lips opened and quick little pants came from her mouth as he continued to bring her closer to orgasm. Her hips rolled forward and back, her nipples pert and tight, her entire body under his control. His cock strained against the fabric of his pants, yearning to plunge hard and deep into her pussy. He slid one finger deep into her sex and continued to rim her clit with his fingertip.
“This pleasure, this lack of control, terrifies you, doesn’t it, Aubrey?” Her heartbeat pulsed against the skin of her throat. Her body trembled with want, with desire.
“I could fuck you now. I could help you to remember why that night has haunted you since you left with my son. I could make you come with just a touch.” He paused the slow circling of his finger on her clit and she gasped. He captured her gaze with his, a wicked smile crossing his lips. “But I won’t.”
He stepped back and dropped his hands from her body. In an instant he’d stripped her bare. She stood naked and exposed before him, her flaming-red hair tousled, her lips red and swollen, her nipples pert and tight, all her clothes strewn on the floor around her naked body.
“I’m taking Max. You lied to me and he’s mine. This time if you run, you won’t get far.” He turned away from her, his back to her now. “Good night, Aubrey. I believe you know your way home.”
Without a word, she collected her clothes and walked to the door. He’d give her some credit—she didn’t cower or cross her arms over her body or double over in fear, trembling and clutching for her clothes. No. Like some sort of dispossessed goddess, she slowly and with determination clothed herself and made her way toward the door. Without a look or a word, she walked out and was gone.
*
The lights were off in Max’s room, the entire house quiet and empty. There was the outline of his school backpack leaned against his desk chair. The shelves held trophies and medals from basketball games, soccer, and football. Pictures of family vacations, the two of them smiling out from framed photos, fought for wall space with posters of motorcycles and fast cars. The room held all Max’s things but was empty of Max.
The lump in her throat grew bigger. Would this bedroom be empty of Max forever? When Max came home from Camp Willow would he then leave for New York and a new life that didn’t include her and Rockwater Farms? She’d tried to give Max a life with a family that loved him and was dedicated to his success. Had she miscalculated? Had she made a tragic error that could never be rectified?
She walked to the edge of Max’s bed, which he’d made up as a concession to her nagging. A patchwork quilt in dark colors, solid and male, made by Aubrey’s mother, lay on top of the sheets. Her fingertips drifted along the stitching. Mom hadn’t been upset when Aubrey arrived home pregnant and unmarried. She’d been thrilled over the prospect of having a grandchild. Aubrey was thankful Mom’d had time with Max before she died.
Fifteen years ago, she’d made what she thought was the best choice for both her and Max. Justin blamed her for not thinking about his needs, but the entire world catered to Justin’s needs. Travati needs were effortlessly met, which was the very reason she’d brought her unborn son home to Rockwater. She didn’t want Max raised by a collection of overindulged, narcissistic men, nor did she wish for Max to become one himself.