Coen, p.10
Coen, page 10
Tilden bucks when I sink a finger inside her, and her body goes rigid when I drag it over her clit. She moans, rotating her hips, and resumes jerking at my shirt trying to get it off.
I oblige, rearing up to tear it off and freeze in place as I take her in. She’s staring at my chest, eyes running over my abdomen, and she presses her fingers to the trail of hair below my navel. She drags it to the button of my jeans, and I hold my breath as she slides her hand lower and presses her palm to my erection that is achingly constricted right now. I huff out a curse and close my eyes as she squeezes. My heart slams against my rib cage, and I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted to fuck a woman more than I do at this moment.
I knock Tilden’s hand away and use the moment to shove her dress up to her waist before dragging her panties over the curve of her hips, straight down her legs, and then tossing them over my shoulder.
Pressing a hand into the mattress, I hover over her. My other hand goes back between her legs, and my mouth takes hers again in another long, searing kiss. She submits, letting me work her mouth and her pussy, but it only lasts so long before her hands are moving on me again.
Quite demanding, and I like it because it’s the same spitfire soul that has knocked heads with me on multiple occasions.
The spirit that’s attracting me now.
Hands are everywhere, pulling and yanking at clothes. It’s awkward kicking off shoes, trying to get her damned dress over her head, stealing kisses in between.
But then we’re both naked, and I’m kneeling between her spread legs with a condom in my hand. I stare down at her, all lush curves and soft skin, and I need to bury myself there and never come out.
I tear open the foil package between my teeth with an impatient growl. Tilden’s eyes flash, and her hands tentatively touch my thighs. She’s not said a single word since I carried her back here, but she’s made plenty of noise. I wonder if I can get her to call out my name.
With my cock sheathed, I fall forward between her legs, supporting my weight off her with my elbows. Tipping my head, I kiss her once again, making it all I do to her until she’s writhing under me.
Hitching one of her legs over my waist, I guide myself close before pressing into her heat.
It’s as I feared, and when I’m fully seated, I have to hold my body still so I don’t erupt. My head drops to her shoulder and I grit my teeth.
Tilden’s fingers thread through my hair, gently gliding over my scalp in a soothing manner. “You okay?”
Her first words.
She wants to know if I’m okay?
“Yeah.” My voice is gravelly with pent-up lust and bitterness that this feels far better than I deserve.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I growl, this time lifting my hips slowly before pressing back inside deep.
Tilden gasps. I hiss and do it again.
Fuck, that feels good.
Hitching her leg higher on my waist, I push up so I can see her face. I drive into her, and she cries out my name, “Coen.” And then orders me, “Yes. Just like that.”
I kiss her before she can see me smile at her demands, and then I give her what she asks for. I hook my arm under her neck and with my other hand, I grab hers. I shove it between our bodies and make her touch herself. With my fingers guiding hers, I help her rub at her clit as I greedily thrust into her.
Tilden undulates and bucks and cries into my mouth every time I bottom out in her tight pussy. She gasps for air, thrashes under me, and I lift up to watch.
Christ, she’s sexy with her face flushed, her eyes closed as she concentrates, and her hips flexing to meet mine. Chasing the same pleasure I am.
I want her to get there first, though, so I drive into her hard and fast. I knock her fingers away from her clit and use my own. Tilden’s eyes fly open and lock onto mine, and I groan over what I see.
She’s fucking lost.
So damn deep into the pleasure, I’m not sure she even sees me.
Her body tightens, muscles squeezing my cock, and her back arches off the mattress as she comes.
“Oh God,” she warbles, biting down on her lower lip so hard, I’m afraid she’ll cut herself. Her body shudders, and then she groans as she grips my shoulders as if her life depended on it.
I slam into her, over and over and over again, trying to catch up.
To share just a moment of it with her.
As if my own life depended on it too.
When my orgasm breaks free, I crush my lips to hers one final time, groaning my release into her mouth so it stays between us.
I want it to stay just our secret that this sexual encounter meant far more to me than it should have.
And I’m already feeling guilty about it.
Slowly, both of us breathless, I lower Tilden’s leg as she stares at me. She looks blissed out but also wary. I can’t fucking help myself. I brush my lips against hers. No clue why I like my mouth on her so much, but I do.
Makes me feel guiltier.
I pull out and roll off the bed. Her room is small, without a bathroom, so I head into the hallway to find it. I dispose of the condom, and when I make it back into the bedroom, she’s got the covers pulled up over her chest like battle armor.
Collecting my clothes, I start dressing.
“You’re leaving.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“I took advantage of you. You were drunk.” That’s not really the source of my angst, but she doesn’t need to know that.
Tilden sits up against the headboard, clutching the blanket to her as she narrows her eyes. Her tone is razor sharp. “You did not take advantage of me. I knew what I was doing, and I could have said no.”
I sit on the edge of the bed to put my shoes on. “You should have said no. I’m not a nice person.”
“Despite the fact you’ve shown great care for me twice now.” Her words are gentle, and I can’t help but look over my shoulder at her. “You showed care for me and my body in the most intimate of settings.”
I turn away from her and push off the bed so she can’t see the torment in my eyes. I can’t have her thinking soft things. “It’s just sex, Tillie.” I pull on my T-shirt. “Get over it.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snarls with such venom, my head whips back to look at her. I think I see a millisecond of hurt before anger flares in her expression. “That name is reserved for friends, and that’s not you.”
I hold her gaze, let her enmity seep into me. “I know,” I finally say before walking out of her bedroom.
CHAPTER 12
Coen
The trees surrounding my property are so tall, it’s hard to see the sunrise. The most I get is a hazy dapple of light on the eastern edge of the backyard and darker dawn shadows on the other side.
Still, I find myself enjoying this time of morning on my back deck. Twilight starts just after five a.m., and I’m on the deck, coffee in hand, ready for the sunrise by five thirty. It’s not a quiet time of morning as the birds are quite noisy.
They don’t come around my deck anymore. Once the bird shit was scrubbed clean, there was no way I was going to encourage them back.
But each morning, I put out the peanuts Tilden left behind for the chipmunks. If I’m not on the deck, the squirrels will pilfer them first. They’re afraid of me, though, and bolt as soon as I step out or if I even approach the sliding glass door.
There’s a single chipmunk, however, that’s bold. I can set the peanuts on the rail and sit in a chair ten feet away, and he’s not afraid in the slightest.
Over the last two days, I’ve started experimenting with his bravery by putting the nuts closer and closer to me on the deck. This morning, I’m sitting in my chair, still as a statue, with a single peanut resting on the top of one shoe to see what he does. I’ve got one on the rail and then a trail of three more across the deck leading to me.
I hear the chip-trill of the little striped rodent before I see him. If I were to turn my head to the left, I’d see him scampering toward the deck from under the bush where I think his burrow must be, because that’s where he returns to after stuffing his cheeks full. Of course, I don’t know if it’s an actual “he,” but I’ve taken to calling him Chip, a typical male name, and it’s a he until proven otherwise.
But I don’t look his way. I keep my eyes pinned on the back of my yard where a line of trees separates me from my neighbor, Tilden Marshall. I left her bed three nights ago and haven’t seen her since.
Thought about her plenty, though.
Maybe even, at times, obsessively.
Being with her—fucking her—scraped something away. I felt raw, as if my soul had been shredded. When I walked out of her house, I felt like an open wound, seeping pain and bleeding misery.
Every day since?
I don’t know what it is I feel, but it sure doesn’t hurt as much. How could it, really, when all I can think about is how fucking good she felt?
I chastise myself—for about the hundredth time—to not assign more meaning to what was essentially nothing more than good sex after a lengthy period of abstinence. I can get good sex anywhere, as a matter of fact.
Movement catches my attention, and I turn my head very slowly to find Chip on the rail, a peanut in his little paws. Sitting on his hind legs, he tears away at the shell, and to my surprise, eats the kernel inside. Normally he shoves the food in and runs, and it’s amazing how much he can pack in those expandable cheeks.
When he finishes, he jumps down from the rail to the deck and in succession moves to each peanut and tucks them into his cheeks. He eyes the one on my shoe, and I hold absolutely still to see what he’ll do. His tail twitches, and he trills. I wonder if he’s questioning me or calling out to friends.
Regardless, he turns away and bolts off the deck, tearing across the yard and under the bush.
Sighing, I bend over and pluck the peanut off my shoe, holding it loosely while I sip my coffee. My gaze moves back to the trees, and I think about Tilden again.
This isn’t how I thought my life was going to be when I walked away from the Titans. I thought I’d come here and hide, away from the spotlight and the pressure to perform. There’d be no expectations from anyone that I needed to get over shit.
Mostly, I’d be alone because alone was what felt right.
Not best, but right.
I wasn’t destined to die in that plane crash but rather slammed into a never-ending penance because the fates or God or whoever is calling the shots didn’t let me have my chance to make amends.
It would be hard for most people to understand the depths of my angst over this. Growing up in an environment where I received no love or nurturing, my hockey family became my world. The friendships I forged with my teammates went beyond the normal bonds people make with one another. I would have taken a bullet for Kyle had an opportunity presented itself, and he would have done the same for me.
He’d have never touched an ex-girlfriend of mine if he were given the opportunity. He would have stayed loyal to me.
The fact that I can’t unburden this secret and at least get the chance at forgiveness has fucked up my head so bad, I can’t distinguish between the pain of losing my family in that crash and the fact that I’m the worst piece of shit for betraying a family member who died when the plane went down.
I’d resolved to let it all go. To move on to a new life where I might be able to start over. Nothing glamorous, but maybe something honest.
I’d also resolved that it would take time. I didn’t deserve quick grace, and I figured I’d need to work for something good to happen to me.
And then Tilden Marshall came along, and she cannot be considered good for me. She’s a pain in my ass, she’s impinging on my plans to be left alone, and she’s not even my fucking type.
So why in the hell am I staring at the trees, hoping she’ll walk through them?
Why did I go to Masha’s last night, hoping she’d be out for a drink with her friends?
More importantly, if I want to see her again, why don’t I have the balls to walk over there?
Because I don’t want to see her again. I want to fuck her, and that is all.
Movement catches my eye, and Chip is back on the rail. He stares at me and makes noises. Chip, chip, chip. I swear there’s an almost expectant tone.
I turn my hand over, peanut resting in my palm. “You looking for this?”
Chip, chip, chip. It sounds like he’s chittering his name at me. The rodent stares at me, tail twitching.
I consider putting the peanut on the deck or even on top of my shoe again, but instead, I lean over the side of the chair so my hand hovers above the wooden planks and extend it his way.
Chip freezes and eyeballs the peanut intently.
“You know you want it,” I say softly, and his ears swivel forward as if attracted to the sound of my voice. “Come and get it, little man.”
Ordinarily, I’d feel stupid talking to an animal and wasting my time to see if I can tempt him to take the peanut, but this is my life now. Hockey star to animal whisperer.
My back aches from the odd angle I’m leaning in and then my arm starts to go numb. Chip doesn’t move a muscle, and now it’s a battle of who wants to win.
Either he’ll come get the nut, or I’ll give up and toss it his way.
I’m just about to say “fuck it” when he turns and runs down the length of the rail away from me. But when he gets to the steps, he jumps down to the wooden deck and hesitantly inches toward me. His tail twitches suspiciously, and I hold so still, I’m barely breathing.
When he nears my shoe, he stops, and we engage in another staring contest. Sweat breaks out on my forehead as my back is really hurting now, but I’m in this till the end. I want to see just how brave this little guy really is because I’m a giant who could easily crush him.
And then to my surprise, Chip darts forward so fast, I almost jerk away from him. He hops right into my hand, grabs the nut, and stuffs it into his cheek before hopping right back off again. He runs across the deck, down the steps, and hangs a hard left, back to his bush.
My heart pounds from the encounter, and I’ll bet his is too.
Jesus. A wild chipmunk just ate from my hand. Or rather, stole food from my hand, but all the same… I’m impressed by the little fella.
I grab another peanut from the bag and set it on my shoe again to see if he’ll come back. I finish my morning coffee while staring out at the trees Tilden wants to cut down.
Talk about some symbolism. Essentially, she wants to knock down a wall I’ve got between myself and the world. I’m hiding, and she wants to open things up.
It’s no wonder she chafes me so bad, but I still can’t figure out why I want more of her.
Just a great fuck, I remind myself. Getting back in the saddle, so to speak.
I wait another fifteen minutes to see if Chip will return, but he doesn’t.
With a sigh, I rise out of my chair and head inside, tossing the peanut over the banister for him. I’m going for a run on the trails and then will head into town.
Maybe stop at Masha’s for lunch.
Not to see if Tilden is there but because they make a great Reuben.
I’ve never been a liar. I may have received a drunk blow job from my teammate’s girlfriend, but I’d never lie about it.
But something tells me when it comes to Tilden Marshall, I’m telling all sorts of lies to myself.
My phone rings just as I’m choosing a playlist for my run. It’s Gage, and weirdly, I don’t hesitate to answer.
Weird because my first inclination these last few months has been to ignore anyone and everything that has to do with the Titans.
“What’s up?” I say as I connect the call.
“Hey, man,” he says jovially. “Checking in to see how life is treating you.”
“I’m good.” I glance out the back door, across the deck, to the trees beyond. “Living the dream.”
“That’s good to hear. Listen, you going to be around the next few days? Mind if I take a trip out to see you?”
“You want to come here?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yeah… I’ll just drive up in the morning. Won’t stay long.”
Fuck if I know what in the hell is happening to me, but I find myself offering up some hospitality. “If you got the time, why don’t you stay the night? We can do some fishing, grill out some steaks, and have a few beers.”
“Really?” Gage asks, and I wince at the incredulous tone, but I can’t blame him. I’ve done nothing but push everyone away for four and a half months, so yeah, it’s a little odd for me to invite him for an extended visit.
“Sure. The quiet is nice, but I could go for some company.”
“Friday sound good?” he asks.
“Yeah, man. You bringing Jenna?”
“Nah. She’s actually flying out to LA with Brienne to do some celebrity interviews. Won’t be back until Sunday.”
We chat for a few more minutes. I don’t ask him, but he supplies updates on everyone. I expect I’ll hear more when he comes in on Friday.
And the weirdest bit of all, I’m kind of looking forward to it.
CHAPTER 13
Tillie
“You’re telling me there’s nothing we can do right now?” I ask Teddy.
My lawyer sits straight in his burgundy leather chair, hands clasped on his desk. He’s wearing a navy-blue suit, white shirt, and a bow tie. His hair is neatly combed and shellacked with enough gel, I could rap my knuckles on it. I think he tries hard to look professional, but mostly I see the boy who used to be a jerk growing up and is now trying to be a man.
“There’s nothing you can do right now,” he affirms.
“Maybe if I talked to Mr. Highsmith,” I muse. Feels strange to call him by such a formal name since he’s seen me naked. “Offer him money or something.”
“No,” Teddy exclaims, holding out his hands. “Never talk to the adversary with whom you’re involved in litigation.”
I consider that. We didn’t do much talking the other night. Truly, he hardly had anything to say other than to tell me he wasn’t a nice man, but I’d figured that out on my own.
