Between Then and Now Read online

  “Gotta be quick with the rugrats always threatening to interrupt.” He pressed her back, laying her upper body against the steering wheel. “Don’t need to be quick tonight, though.”

  There shouldn’t be anything sexy about two grownups squeezed into the driver’s side of an SUV in their own driveway, their empty and comfortable house a few feet away, but at that moment, nothing was hotter than Ian perusing her body spread out in front of him. He twisted his hand, still pumping slowly in and out of her sex, and rested his thumb on her clit. She watched him through hooded eyes as delicious sensations washed over her body. He wasn’t building her toward an orgasm so much as shifting her into an altered state of arousal. “Don’t play with me,” she panted. “Make me—”

  He pulled his fingers out of her pussy and tapped them on the inside of her thigh. “You don’t want me to play with you?” His other hand stilled on her breast, abandoning its path to her nipple.

  She thrust her hips, helplessly, because there wasn’t much room to move, and with her legs folded underneath her, she had no leverage. “That’s not what I meant. Ian!” He chuckled, and she slid her own hand between her thighs. His laughter faded as she touched herself, and he licked his lips.

  “Keep doing that.” He loosened his belt, then lifted his hips the barest amount, just enough to give him some play with his jeans.

  Sex in the car. What were they thinking? They weren’t, for the first time in weeks, maybe longer, and it was glorious.

  No, what was glorious was his wife perched on his lap, back arched like a pinup girl, topless, with her short skirt pushed up around her lush, pale hips.

  The details of what she was doing with her hand were lost in the night shadows, but he could still feel her slippery excitement under his fingers, and couldn’t wait to replace her hand with his cock. The full moon lit up her bare shoulder and highlighted the twist of her arm as she languidly stroked her pussy. His gaze shifted to the swell of her right breast, and the thought of getting his mouth on her nipple caused his erection to pulse painfully against the damn zipper, as if reminding him that he was doing a piss-poor job of freeing the dirty bastard. Didn’t he know it.

  With an expletive studded rip, he had his jeans open and his cock in his hand. Wouldn’t care if the pants were damaged, either. “Come here, babe.”

  He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her to him. Her lips parted, an invitation he’d take. His biceps flexed as he closed the gap between them, and he wanted to roar. Fuck, yes. This was what it was all about. There was too much fucking noise between them most of the time. Carrie on top of him, all soft and wet and willing, this was what they needed to hang on to. Needed to make more time for.

  As she sank into the kiss, her weight shifted onto his torso and his hand got pinned between their bellies. His hand, and his cock. He reacted instinctively to the gentle squeeze and jerked his hips, his balls connecting with her damp heat. Oh, fuck.

  All thoughts of going slow and taking their time were vanquished by that contact. He needed to be inside her. As if reading his mind, she pressed up on his shoulders, lifting her hips enough to re-align their cores. She was more than ready for him, but he used the thinking part of his brain and paused.

  “Babe.” Both of them were breathing loudly, or their breath was loud because it was otherwise quiet, he wasn’t sure. But she wasn’t listening to him, she was kissing his jaw and panting, wriggling around on the top of his cock. “Babe. Stop. Do we need a condom?”

  “Oh…” She scrunched up her face. “No. It’s an okay time. I just want you inside me.”

  “You and me both. You sure?”

  “Just for a minute.” She wriggled out of his grasp and sank onto him, eliciting matching groans. Nothing between them was pure heaven, even if it meant pulling out. Or not, but that was Carrie’s call. He’d happily make babies with her until they weren’t physically able, but it wasn’t his body that bore them, or lost them. His heart, but maybe not as much as hers.

  He spread his fingers wide around her hips, his thumbs notched over the top of her thighs. He loved the feel of her muscles flexing with need under his hands, her body the perfect combination of soft and strong. Sweet and fierce, that was his wife. He pulled them together, then held her there, enjoying her helpless wiggles as she tried to work her clit against the base of his cock.

  “Slow down,” he murmured. “Do too much more of that, and I’m going to fill you up.”

  She gasped against his mouth, and even in the shadows he knew that turned her on. They needed to have a conversation about birth control, and maybe not while they were in the middle of fucking.

  He twisted his hands into her hair, finding the elastic that he’d wound her ponytail around earlier. Eight years of wanting to see her undone meant he knew his way around hair accessories, and with a flick of his fingers, the elastic shot across the car and her bright red locks tumbled around her shoulders.

  “I fucking love your hair, babe.” His words were backed up by his cock twitching inside her, and she surged in response, starting a slow ride that he could get on board with. He squeezed her hips and helped her find a rhythm that soon had them both groaning. He loved that she still dyed her hair bright colours. The red was by far his favourite. The night they’d met, it had been freshly coloured, and she’d worn it in pigtails. He hadn’t been able to stop looking at her at all night, wondering if he’d ever have a chance with a woman like her.

  Even after they started dating, he’d known that she had big plans. Plans that couldn’t include a country boy, tied to a family farm.

  And then he’d gone and knocked her up. He’d lived with that guilt for eight years, and probably would for the rest of his life. Carrie’s grand adventure had gotten her as far as baking the occasional birthday and wedding cake in a modest ranch house on ten acres carved out of a sugar bush. He wanted more for her than that. He wanted to give her the world.

  “Iannnnn,” she groaned, her face pressed into the side of his head, her arms wrapped around his neck. He felt it too, an urgency to her rise and fall as she tightened around him, and he sucked in a breath, willing himself to hold off until she’d taken all the pleasure she could. He let her go, and she bounced faster and harder on his lap as he turned his focus to her soft, creamy breasts, full and supple in his hands as he cupped them, teasing one nipple with his thumb as he sought the other with his mouth.

  Her nipples were flat, even after nursing two children, but the pillowy tissue popped out at his gentle urging, and her pussy clenched around him as he licked and sucked first one, and then the other, to a sensitive point. Carrie had always liked nipple play—when they met, she’d had them pierced, thin gold hoops that she’d beg him to tug on just before she came. The rings were long gone, but he could still help her over the edge with a scrape of his thumbnail and a nip of teeth.

  With a final surge up, and down again, she stilled in his lap, trembling inside and out. He slicked his hands down her sweat drenched sides and around to her back, holding her against his body as she went limp, overwhelmed by her orgasm. He was on the edge himself, and he wanted nothing more than to start driving hard into her swollen core, to spill himself inside her…fuck, even thinking about it was a threat to his control.

  But they had all night. They weren’t teenagers, and the car wasn’t their only option.

  “That was hot.” He tugged gently on her hair, tilting her face toward his so he could swipe a lazy kiss across her lips. “Let’s go inside.”

  She flexed her pussy around him. “What about you?”

  He chuckled. “I’m not done with you, babe. I want you stretched out on our bed.”

  She whimpered, but her smile told him she was pleased.

  He pushed the truck door open, and Carrie eased away from his body, shivering at the temperature drop. He grabbed her t-shirt and slid it over her naked breasts, then took a minute to tuck himself back into his jeans before they climbed out. He pulled her hard against his body once th
ey were standing on the ground, and they walked inside as one, where he pulled her into the shower and warmed her up, first with a gentle wash cloth and then his mouth. When it was his turn again, she led him to their bed and rode him long and slow and hard, until he lifted her off, coming hard between their bodies, and they needed the wash cloth again.

  Chapter Three

  Things between them were better, but a week of good sex and early evenings hadn’t miraculously solved the underlying issues in their marriage.

  Carrie had broached the subject when he got back from morning chores. “And then you say or do something little, and I lose my mind. I shouldn’t, but I do, and I worry that means—”

  “We’re just fine.” He closed the gap between them, mindful that the kids would be up any minute. “You’ve been ‘Mom’ for a long time. You have a hard time turning it off.”

  “I don’t mother you.” She stiffened against his chest.

  “Little bit.” He cupped her chin, her face small in his hand, and she closed her eyes. He loved the softness of her skin under his calloused fingers. A sigh escaped her lips, and he knew it wasn’t enough, but it was something. And little bits of something that they could piece together was all that they had. Between parenting and work, they were running flat out, especially with making positive time for each other. Neither of them wanted to fight at night. Or in the morning. So when talking headed in that direction, they were both all too eager to shift to what they did best. But sex wasn’t the answer.

  He was committed to getting them back on track, and hoped that after tonight, there wouldn’t be any more secrets between them. He’d thought about coming clean after talking to Evan at the pub, but then she’d gone on about Evie and Dale, and he wanted to reassure her that they weren’t the same. Reassure himself too, if he was being honest.

  He looked at his phone again, for what felt like the twentieth time that day, and it was only eight in the morning.

  “Waiting for a call?” He started at the male voice behind him and turned to see his younger brother leaning against the kitchen counter. “I saw Carrie leaving with the kids, she said to let myself in and grab a cup of coffee.”

  “Hey. Yeah, help yourself.” He gestured at the pot.

  “You’re distracted.”

  Ian shrugged. “What are you doing here before school?”

  “I need to borrow your chop saw, going to lay some flooring tonight.” Kyle had recently bought an old schoolhouse, just outside of town, and was renovating it himself. He’d put up with a fair number of jokes about it being a fitting abode for an elementary school teacher, but Ian had to admit, it was the perfect bachelor pad. And Kyle was a committed bachelor, swearing off love after two disastrous relationships.

  “You need help?”

  “Nah. Evan’s in town, and he’ll probably convince Ty to come along too.” The West brothers were as opposite as night and day, but they worked well together—so well, in fact, that they’d gone into business together, starting a fledgling winery and, more recently, starting to invest in downtown Wardham real estate. Ian wasn’t as close to them as his brother was, but he had a lot of respect for the Wests.

  “The saw’s in the garage, hang on.” He stepped through the adjoining door from the kitchen into the clutter of his garage. There was just enough room to park his bike there. Carrie’s SUV lived outside.

  Kyle followed him, whistling when he got to the door.

  “Shut up.”

  “You got a big project here, man. Gonna make the little lady park outside all winter?”

  “First of all, don’t call her that.” Ian grabbed the big saw, made sure the safety latch was on, and thumped it into his brother’s chest. “Second of all, I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

  “Nothing’s more important than your woman.”

  “What would you know about that?”

  Kyle’s jaw tightened at that, but instead of answering, he stepped back to the kitchen and set the saw down on the floor.

  “So, I talked to Evan.” Ah. The real reason for the visit. “You know what you’re doing?”

  “Yep.”

  “If I could just give you some advice—”

  “I don’t want, or need, your advice.”

  “Carrie’s going to be pissed.”

  “You let me worry about Carrie.”

  “Are you?”

  Ian crossed his arms over his chest. He was the big brother in every way, taller, older and his job was more physical, so he probably had ten extra pounds of muscle on Kyle, but he didn’t relish the thought of pounding his brother into the ground. Much. “I don’t see how that’s your business.”

  “She’s like my sister. And she’s had a rough year.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “I see her, at Mom and Dad’s, around town. Always has the kids with her, juggling a cake or groceries. You’ve been absent, man.”

  “I’ve been working, Kyle.”

  “Is that what she wants?”

  “It’s what we need.”

  “Are you in financial trouble?”

  God, no. He didn’t want Carrie to ever experience the poverty of her childhood again. “We’re fine. I’m just building up a cushion, paying down the mortgage. Trying to get ahead.”

  “Don’t be a hero. Talk to Carrie. Maybe she doesn’t understand.”

  Maybe Kyle didn’t understand how this wasn’t any of his business. “Got it.”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  “I said—Hey, you know who we haven’t talked about in a while?”

  “Okay, point made.”

  “No, I don’t think it was. What happened last year after the funeral?” Kyle didn’t need to answer that. He’d gone on a bender and broken up with his live-in girlfriend after seeing Laney Calhoun at her father’s funeral. Kyle and Evie’s sister had dated in college, and his brother never did get over that breakup. “Where is she now, still in Calgary?”

  “Chicago.” Kyle picked up the saw he’d come for and moved to the back door.

  “Five hour drive, less in the middle of the night. You ever think about just getting in your truck?”

  This was deeper and meaner than their conversations usually went. Ever, really. But Kyle had picked at his scab—Ian was just returning the favour.

  His brother scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “All the time, man. All the fucking time.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “I can’t bear the thought of hurting her again.”

  “Who says you’d hurt her?”

  “We’re not you and Carrie, okay? There’s no happy ever after for me and Laney. Everyone around here needs to get that straight.”

  Preschool days were the best. There was something about being temporarily childfree that increased her productivity by five-hundred percent. After dropping Kaylie at school and Drew at the half-day program in the Presbyterian church basement, Carrie cut back across downtown Wardham for the main road to Essex, the larger town near the freeway.

  She’d come to love their sleepy little village, but downtown had seen better days. Not for the first time, Carrie mused on how a few small changes would make a big difference. There had been a few attempts to bring tourist dollars to town, but they’d been focused on nostalgia—Wardham needed to move into the 21st century. The outdoor hockey tournament was a great draw, but a modern, attractive arena would be a good blizzard backup. Of course, that wasn’t an original idea, and the town council and small business association had been at odds over the investment for years. If she was a local business person, she’d…

  She’d what? Carrie sighed to herself. Her imagination could run off with a dozen ideas of fun businesses she’d start up. She’d thought about talking to the West brothers more than once but always chickened out. No, not chickened out. Wised up to reality. She had enough on her plate as it was, she didn’t need to start something new. And really, where would she even start?

  She needed t
o appreciate the good life that she had. She’d come a long way from the little apartment over the laundromat on Wyandotte Street, saving all her pennies.

  Ha. So what if she hadn’t gone to England. Here she was, driving to Essex, and if the shops there didn’t have what she needed, she’d head to Windsor next. Not quite the same thing. The countryside between the towns was lovely enough, but she imagined the British communities were much more picturesque. Not that Carrie would ever know. At one time, she planned to backpack through Europe. She’d been working at a country & western bar in Windsor, hustling hard for tips from drunk wannabe cowboys, when she met Ian.

  That night changed everything.

  He wasn’t wearing the hat or boots, but he had the swagger, and he could dance better than most. He stayed to last call, and she surprised both of them by inviting him back to her apartment. He gave a sober buddy his keys and told him to come back for him in the morning.

  He’d been cute. More than cute. She hadn’t been able to stop watching him, and she caught his eye enough that she knew the feeling was mutual.

  If she’d had any doubts he was a real deal country boy, they disappeared when he unabashedly stripped down to nothing—the sun had kissed his arms to mid-bicep, although his torso wasn’t without a faint tan. She’d thought lazily that maybe he had a pond. She’d like to go skinny dipping with him. Leap onto his back and wrap her legs around his lean hips. Hold on to his broad shoulders and press her naked breasts into his back and drift into the cool water together.

  As he opened his button-fly jeans, revealing snug briefs underneath, she’d whispered for him to stop. He was hard and sinewy in all the right places, with shadows and valleys she wanted to explore with her mouth and hands and eyes, but her touch first went to the line where dark faded to light on his arm, neatly following the curve of his muscles. “Nice farmer’s tan.”

  He read the husky tone in her voice correctly, not taking offense at all, and he reached for the button on her jeans, using it to leverage her closer. “Let’s see yours.” He hovered his mouth above hers. “I bet it leads me straight to heaven.”