Reviving Haven Page 22

  “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 my 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, La
tch, 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.

  I smile and move towards Latch, who is still stationed by my office door. I reach over to unlock the door.

  “Go, please . . . you’re a distraction. A hot as hell distraction, but I have a job to do. Some of us actually have to work.” I look at him with amusement.

  “What? I work. Okay, I mostly delegate, but I work too. I have ideas.” He looks sullen.

  “Yes, you do, sweetie, and they are award winning.” I swat him on his ass and laugh.

  Denise had returned from lunch, standing behind the counter now, and her eyes shoot straight up as I walk Latch out of my office. She actually stands there checking him out from top to bottom while smacking her lips. For God’s sake! I feel like slapping her. Jealousy has reared its ugly head. I will have to grow a thicker skin because women would love to love this man, repeatedly. Latch’s eyes travel towards Denise and he nods a quick greeting.

  “Tonight, baby,” he murmurs as he reaches around me to grab my bottom cheek, which makes me jump as well as squeal. Of course, my cheeks are bright red as Latch leaves and I turn to face Denise.

  “I suppose you heard, so just say it, will you?” I demand, shrugging my shoulders.

  Denise puts her palm out in front of her face. She actually wants to high five me.

  “Damn, you go, girl. I thought I saw him come in when I left for lunch . . . isn’t that the guy who created Blood Vestige? And he’s, well—very yummy.”

  She can hardly contain her excitement. Her eyes are glazed over as if she has just seen the hottest guy on the planet. Well, at least we both appear to share that opinion, so I high five her just to be nice. I nod my head in agreement that he is indeed yummy, although I lean more toward delicious. I smile as I return to my office.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next two weeks seem to have a life of their own. Between the bookstore and seeing Latch, I don’t seem to have one moment to myself. Latch has me sleep over almost every night. After the first week, he finally talked me into bringing a few things over so I won’t have to get up so early in the morning.

  “Just move in with me,” he says groaning, his voice rough from sleep.

  It’s extremely dangerous for me to wake up to him in a state of nakedness with sex hair. I cannot be trusted. Unless he ticks me off.

  “Latch, how many times do we have to have this conversation? It’s eight-in-the-fricking-morning!” I say, frustrated with the constant refrain. I try to get out of bed, but he pulls me back by my waist. “I have to go get ready for work and so do you.” I try pushing him away with absolutely no luck. He had been asking me constantly just to move in with him; his desire to for me to live with him was relentless.

  “You sleep here every night, why not just move in?” He’s whining now.

  There it is—a sure sign of our twelve-year age difference. Although, to be fair, Jared had done his fair share of whining, considering I was seven years younger than him.

  “Good grief, Latch. I’m not leaving Weezie to pay a fifty-five hundred dollar a month mortgage by herself. How many different ways can I explain this? I owe her big time. I’m not going to just bail on her. Please don’t make me choose.” I raise my voice in hopes of getting the point across. I think the word ‘choose’ makes him consider what he plans to say next.

  “Okay, a compromise. I’ll pay off the mortgage. Then everyone wins—Weezie has the place free and clear and then you can move in with me without feeling guilty.” Latch looks pleased with his proposition.

  I jerk away from him, pissed. This scenario is reminding me of Jared and his constant need to control. I can’t have another relationship where I hand over my life to someone else. I will never allow that to happen, regardless of my feelings for Latch. We have moved too fast on everything. This entire relationship has happened too quickly, and moving in with him is just too big of a decision. It’s too soon for me even to consider it.

  “Are you freaking out of your mind? I’m not going to allow you to pay off our condo. Jesus, sometimes I wonder about you. You’re too much, I swear.”

  I jump out of bed and toss the sheet over him. I head into the bathroom to get ready for work. The bathroom door flies open and Latch stands there naked. I continue looking into the mirror, putting on my face and trying to ignore him. I can feel his fury. His presence without clothing will be my undoing and the bastard knows it. Between his anger and the blatant hard-on, he must be assuming make-up sex. I roll my eyes. Then I sense a change in his mood. It feels dark, disturbing. I twist my hair up into my usual bun and try pushing past him as he blocks the doorway. He’s not letting me leave.

  “Latch, I have to go. What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?” I’m slightly perturbed.

  He grabs my arm at the elbow. Not hard, but with some measured force.

  “Don’t tell me what I’m not allowed to do, ever. Sometimes, Haven, you push me too far. This is one of those fucking times.” He’s not being loud, but his tone is menacing.

  I suddenly feel frightened. This reminds me too much of the altercations I had in the past, the ones that left me emotionally battered. I jerk my arm out of his hold and move backwards. He steps toward me, causing me to flinch—not because I think Latch would hurt me, but out of old habits. Latch’s facial expression drops. He looks almost ashamed. He tries moving closer, backing me up to the shower stall. He reaches his hand out and touches my cheek.

  “Fuck. I would never . . . Do you honestly think that I would ever hurt you?” His voice is bordering on anger.

  I’m not sure if the hostility is towards him or me. I feel emotionally vulnerable, and tears start to well up as I turn away from him.

  “Haven, I would never hit you, ever. Ask any woman . . . she’ll tell you I can be a huge prick, but I’ve never physically abused any woman.”

  He shakes his head as he steps out of the bathroom, leaving me alone. I’ve never feared being with Latch. I’ve always felt safe, protected. Jared was nice in the beginning too, then he changed. Is this what I bring out in men? Is this my fault? Did I overreact? We had a disagreement, an argument, so why did Latch lose it? This is the third time now he’s shown some strange behavior. I know Krystella really pushed him. He explained why he’d been so callous when I went to his office. I was satisfied with the explanation, but now I’m not so sure.

  I quickly dress and gather my work things. Without looking at him, I snatch
my purse and start towards the door. Latch blocks my path. His arms are crossed and he looks incensed.

  “If you truly believe that I would ever strike you, then we’re done. I can’t be with someone who’s afraid of me. I’m sorry Jared fucked you up so badly that you don’t know the difference between an emotionally abusive asshole and a man who loves you.” Latch stares straight into me, his words searing my heart.

  “Sometimes they feel the same,” I reply in a sob.

  I shut the door behind me. I didn’t want to look at him, knowing his expression would have broken me.

  I get to work and wait for Denise. As soon as she arrives, I lock myself in my office and cry. I cry for the time we had been together. I cry because I’m broken. I cry because of my unwillingness to let the past go, letting it keep me from any kind of true happiness. Weezie would never say she told me so, but she was right when everything she predicted had come to pass. I feel empty, sad. The place where my heart should be feels desolate.

  Maybe I’m past redemption. I don’t have the will to save myself. If I stay with Latch, I will end up making him miserable with all of my insecurities. And even though he has the ability to be kind and sweet, it seems those emotions are tainted with anger and volatility.

  It appears we both have our own demons.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Latch

  Maybe I should just throw in the towel. Haven is never going to trust me, which means she’ll never love me. She actually thinks I would hurt her. When I watched her back away from me and then flinch, it almost killed me. I’ll be the first one to admit, I’ve done some fucked up things in my life, but I have never raised a hand to a woman. I hate the fact that that piece of shit Jared has ruined Haven for any man to love her. I wish I knew what extent he went to, what he really did to her because whatever it was he has totally fucked her up and I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be able to break through that barrier. Every time I get close to finding out about her past, she pushes me away. I need to know everything he did to her and why she’s so afraid to love someone. I want to understand so I can mend her. I’ve never been in a relationship, so maybe I’m out of my depth here. I need her to realize I’m not him.