Keep It Together - By Lissa Matthews Page 0,43
and couldn’t get him off her mind, couldn’t erase the memory of his hands on her.
“Well, don’t be stingy with the name, Christina.”
Chrissie turned. She needed to get her head in the here and now instead of continuing to daydream. She looked at her mother. “It’s Colt, Mama.”
“Colt?”
The confused smile on her mother’s face was pretty familiar. When she wasn’t sure or when she disapproved of what was being said, that smile was always in place. Chrissie thought it was probably the former but it could be the latter. “Colt Fisher. Russell’s brother.”
“Oh, honey.” Myrtice clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You shouldn’t be dating him.”
“Mama, please.” Confusion and disapproval both. Chrissie was on a roll today.
“Oh, don’t you ‘Mama please’ me. You know it’s not right.”
“Right or not, Mama, I like him.” More, much more than liked him.
“What about Russell? How will he feel about it? Have you talked to him?”
“Actually, I have. I saw him several days ago, and we talked things out. He knows that Colt and I are seeing one another, and he’s all right with it.”
Myrtice shook her head again and frowned. “I still don’t like this, Christina.”
“I know, but it’s my choice.”
“You know, Russell’s mother didn’t care for us very much. Will you be meeting Colt’s mother?”
“No. She left him and Amber when they were kids.” Nothing more was said for several moments. Chrissie watched as the most put-together woman she’d ever met fought to digest that little tidbit of information. If there was one thing Myrtice Browning valued above putting the best face forward, it was family. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you speechless, Mama.”
“Well, I just… I don’t understand how women can do that. You simply don’t do that. You don’t leave your kids behind. No matter what.”
“People do it all the time.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s right. You marry and have children, you stay with them. End of story.”
“I love you,” Chrissie said as she walked toward her mother and hugged her.
“Careful, Christina,” Myrtice admonished. “Don’t wrinkle us both.” But she wrapped her arms around Chrissie anyway and gave her a tight squeeze. “Maybe that young man just needs the love of a good woman.”
“Yes, Mama. Maybe he does and whatever opinion Russ’s mother has of us, or we of her, she raised Colt well.”
When they parted, Chrissie’s mother was once again composed, but before either could say anything, the doorbell chimed. “She should have done a better job with her own boy,” she murmured. “Let’s keep this quiet for now, Christina. We don’t want gossip. You know I hate that kind of thing, and after that near disaster in December…”
“You can say it, Mama,” Chrissie said softly. Even though the Brownings employed several servants, when it came to parties and other social events, they preferred answering the door personally. Chrissie actually liked the gesture and welcome it provided, each person being made to feel at home as they walked in the door.
“Just smile for our guests, Christina.”
“I always do.”
* * * *
“Did I wake you up?” she asked softly when Colt picked up the phone.
“No, you didn’t. I’m finishing up some work because someone kept me up all night.”
“What did they keep you up doing?”
“Screwing like bunnies.”
“You should learn to control yourself.” His laughter on the other end of the line warmed her insides and melted her like jelly.
“I probably should, but in this case, it’s more like I should learn to control my lover. She was insatiable. She kept waking up and touching me.”
“If you weren’t so gorgeous, maybe she would’ve been able to control herself a little more and keep her hands to herself.” And touching him had been something she couldn’t seem to get under control. He was right about that. But then, as soon as her fingers would do no more than hover over him, he was awake and kissing her, fondling her, eating between her legs.
“You think I’m gorgeous?”
“The secret is out. I only want you for your body.” Then there was the memory of him on her tongue, embedded deeply within her mouth, the head of his cock touching the sensitive tissue at the back of her throat. He was rigid, silk and steel. When he got so close to orgasm and he tried to tug her off, she had held fast and worked him as though he were a drinking straw. She was still wondering how his shout hadn’t woken whoever was in the room next to his.
He’d felt so good and