Page 54 of Careless Hope
“I want this cunt to come all over my cock,” he said, shockingme to my core, but his words were just what I needed to be pushed over that edge.
A moment later, as if the universe had conspired to lead us to this single point in time, we reached the climax together. It swept over me like a tsunami as he pumped one last time, as deep as he could.
He groaned as he shot his release into the condom, his cock twitching inside me.
“Caroline,” Walker called out my name like it was a prayer, or perhaps a vow, as we clung to each other. His light blue eyes, which had always held a glimmer of mischief, now reflected something deeper, something that resonated within the hollows of my heart.
The weight of the world seemed to evaporate like morning mist over the fields as we lay there, intertwined in a cocoon of rumpled sheets that still held the warmth of our joined bodies. I could hear Walker’s steady heartbeat beneath my ear, a soothing rhythm that anchored me to the here and now.
“Wow,” I breathed out, a laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep inside—a place that had been untouched, unexplored until Walker’s patient touch coaxed it into the light. My fingers traced idle patterns on his chest, feeling the rise and fall with each breath he took. “I had no idea it could be like this.”
Walker’s arm tightened around me, his hand splayed wide across my back. “Glad I could show you, darlin’,” he drawled, his voice low and husky, threaded with the remnants of our shared passion.
“Thank you, Walker,” I murmured, the gratitude spilling forth before I could catch it. The words felt too small for the enormity of what he had given me, but they were all I had.
His chuckle was warm against my hair. “No need to thankme, Caroline. It was my pleasure—quite literally.” His teasing tone couldn’t mask the tenderness that lingered in his eyes when I looked up at him.
It was a strange sensation, this vulnerability mixed with an unfamiliar contentment. I felt exposed, but safe with him.
“Still,” I insisted softly, “I’m grateful.”
“Grateful, huh?” His fingers traced the line of my jaw, sending shivers down my spine despite the lingering heat between us. “Well, just remember, this isn’t a one-time offer. Exploring . . . it’s a journey, not a destination.”
“Sounds like something one of the romance novel heroes would say,” I teased, trying to ease the intensity of the moment. But his gaze held mine, steadfast and sure.
“Maybe so,” he replied, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. “But some truths are universal, aren’t they?”
In that simple touch, I found reassurance and a promise of more—more laughter, more discovery, more moments where the world fell away, leaving only the connection that pulsed quietly between us. Yet, even as my heart whispered about possibilities, my mind shied away from fully embracing them. It was safer, easier, to remember that this was an arrangement, and enjoying it too much would only hurt me in the end.
“Universal truths,” I echoed, allowing myself a small smile as I snuggled closer to him, the scent of leather and sunshine that always clung to him now mingled with my own. In the gentle caress of his hand along my spine, I found a comfort that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
“Caroline?” Walker’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.
“Hmm?”
“Promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“Promise me you won’t forget this—how you feel right now. No matter what happens.”
I nodded against him, the weight of his request settling in my chest like a stone in a riverbed—solid, enduring, shaping the current of my thoughts.
“I promise,” I said, knowing full well that some promises couldn’t be kept. I only hope this wasn’t one of them.
18
Caroline
The examination roomwas a stark contrast to the rustic charm of Whittier Falls with its sterile surfaces and cold, clinical efficiency. Stainless steel gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, and the faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air. As I pulled on a pair of latex gloves with practiced ease, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride. Dad’s old practice was now my domain, a place where I could make a difference, one patient at a time.
And I was finally seeing some progress with the townsfolk. I only wished I wasn’t seeing Lily for the third time in as many weeks.
“Alright, Lily, can you tell me again how you got this cut?” I asked, keeping my voice even as I examined the jagged wound on her forearm.
Lily hesitated, her eyes darting around the room before settling back on me. “I . . . uh, I was pruning the rose bushes out front. You know how thorny those can get.”
“Of course,” I said, nodding while gently probing the edges of the laceration. But as I cleaned, stitched, and dressed the cut, Inoticed something that didn’t quite add up—a series of bruises, old and new, peeking out from under the sleeve of her blouse. They were scattered across her skin like a cruel constellation, each one telling a silent story of pain.
