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Last 10 Posts [ In reverse order ]
| IrishFire88 |
Posted on Oct 28 2010, 04:20 PM |
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© Ayshen (LexCorinthos)
Someone Who Loves Her Enough
Pairing: Colleen Carlton and Deacon Sharpe
TV Show (s): The Young and the Restless
xoxoxo
I’ll explain what happened to Traci that made her land in the hospital but not in this. This NC-17 one-shot takes place when fate throws them together again. ENJOY!!
xoxoxo
Songs: In Another’s Eyes & Didn’t We Love
Artists: Garth Brooks & Trisha Yearwood and Tamara Walker
xoxoxo
In another’s eyes
I’m someone who
Loves her enough
To walk away from you
I’d never cheat
And I would never lie
In another’s eyes
“Colleen?” She knew she’d been set up by their much too wise 6 year old twins the moment she heard his soft husky voice say her name in that tone. “I thought you’d be at home tonight with the twins.”
Putting on a fake smile, she turned to face the man who still held her shattered heart in his hands. “Hello, Deacon. Its been a long time.”
He smiled in response. “It sure has been, Mrs. Sh-“
Colleen cut him off before he could use the name she’d dropped years ago. “Only the twins use that name, Deacon. I went back to Carlton a year after you left.”
She watched his mouth form an ‘O’. “I see,” he said softly. “Why didn’t you keep my name, Colleen?”
“I kept your name, Deacon,” she replied. “Its just that while all of the twins’ teachers call me Mrs. Carlton-Sharpe, my coworkers call me Miss Carlton.”
Deacon laughed, a sound that always seemed to sink deep into Colleen’s veins, and she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out, “I’ve missed hearing you laugh, Deacon!”
In another’s eyes
I can do no wrong
And he believes in me
And his faith is strong
I’d never fall
Or even compromise
In another’s eyes
Leaning in toward her, he whispered in her ear while shivers of delicious surrendering desire danced along her spine, “Is there anything else you’ve missed about me, Colleen?”
Gulping down what was left of the courage she’d been hoping she could use to push him away & run out the door, Colleen’s eyes met those belonging to Deacon. “No, Deacon,” she lied through her teeth. “There isn’t.” Colleen didn’t know why he’d even asked that question but knew that if he asked her again, she would probably give him the same answer.
Before she could turn and stomp away, his arm snaked out and halted her movements by encircling her wrist with his large hand. “Now hold on there, Lee,” he said, tightening his hold when she attempted to remove his hand. He only called her Lee when he wanted something from her, and she shifted her eyes until their gazes met.
As soon as she did, Colleen spotted the passion glimmering in his now-darkened eyes. “Unhand me, Deacon Sharpe,” she hissed. Colleen didn’t want to fall under the spell he’d once had over her nor did she want to have his passion overtake her once again.
“And let you walk away, Lee?” he spoke softly, in that same come-hither tone from before. “I don’t think so.” Instead of following her order, Deacon brought her wrist up to his face, where Colleen watched his eyes darken even more as he seemed to basically inhale her wrist before pressing his lips to the skin there, in a touch that was both gently passionate and overwhelmingly heated.
Colleen shivered with desire, a shiver that didn’t go unnoticed by her ex-husband. Deacon tugged her gently forward until he could whisper in her ear. “Want me to let go now, Lee?” His words were spoken against the skin right below the lobe of her ear.
“Noooo…” she replied. Why didn’t her voice work correctly? Her response had come out choked and shaky, as if heat and desire had somehow engulfed her and taken over her body.
In another’s eyes
I’m afraid that I can’t see
This picture perfect portrait
That they paint of me
They don’t realize
And I pray they never do
‘Cause every time I look
I’m seeing you
In another’s eyes
They were interrupted by the ringing of Colleen’s cell phone from inside her purse in her free hand, the one that Deacon wasn’t holding. Pulling away from Deacon, Colleen opened the snap of her purse then dug around for her phone.
Upon seeing her mother’s name flashing across the screen, Colleen grew concerned, knowing something had happened with the twins. “Mom, what happened?” she asked upon responding to Traci’s call.
“CC,” she heard her Uncle Billy Abbott’s voice say in her ear but her hand dropped the phone away, so Deacon swooped in and grabbed it before the cell could clatter to the floor.
“Yeah, Billy. What happened to Traci?” Colleen heard Deacon’s voice ask. Her mind began to shut down and she moved over to sit at one of the tables in Gloworm. What if something happened to her mom, and she lost not one but BOTH parents?
“Lee?” Colleen snapped out of her worried train of thoughts and looked up at her ex-husband. “Billy asked us to meet him at the hospital, and to not worry about the twins. Victoria took them to their house, where they’ll spend the night, and Victoria will make sure they get to school on time tomorrow.”
Colleen allowed Deacon to pull her up and lead her out of Gloworm even though she knew all feeling had left her body. They arrived at the hospital, and spotted Billy, Jack, Ashley and Abby standing in the waiting room.
Abby spotted them first, and ran to embrace her sister in a fierce, tight hug. Colleen’s body began to shake with uncontrollable sobs and Abby’s hand rubbed up and down her back in a comforting gesture.
In another’s eyes
Staring back at me
I see a sinking soul
Trying desperately
To turn the tide
Before it dies
In another’s eyes
She felt herself being pulled back into Deacon’s arms and lead into her mom’s hospital room. The doctor was there but Colleen found she couldn’t speak so she looked at her ex-husband and an understanding passed between them. “So what happened, Doctor?” Deacon asked, his arm instinctively curling Colleen into his side.
“Just a little case of pneumonia,” the doctor told the formerly married couple. As soon as Colleen heard those words, she wanted to weep in pure joy. She disentangled herself from Deacon and grabbed for the chair, scooting it closer to the bed.
Picking up the hand closest to her, Colleen cradled it between her own. “Mom, you gave us all quite a scare,” she said to Traci. “Please don’t do it again.” Her ex-husband laid his hand on her shoulder and she felt him lean down to speak softly in her ear.
“I’m going to give your family an update,” he told her. Colleen nodded her head in response and heard him leave the room, before turning back to her mother, who she noticed had opened her eyes.
“Welcome back, Mom,” Colleen said softly, giving her mother a smile despite the fact that she wanted to burst into tears all over again. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m doing fine, baby,” her mother answered groggily. “What was Deacon doing with you, Colleen?”
“Deacon was at Gloworm when Uncle Billy called me, Mom,” Colleen responded quickly. “He brought me, and don’t worry, the twins are fine. Victoria and Billy are keeping them overnight, and Victoria will make sure they get to school on time tomorrow.”
xoxoxo
Two Weeks Later
And what they don’t see
Is killing me
It’s a blessing and a curse
That love is blind
Colleen was driving Deacon crazy. First there had been the constant hurt in her eyes, which left him filled with guilt.
Then there’d been the unmistakable signs of anger. That had stiffened his resolve, prepared him for a battle that hadn’t come.
Now lately she had been doing everything in her power to seduce him again. The changes were keeping him dizzy and off balance, wavering between guilt and yearning.
He’d tried telling himself that this last, sly attempt to seduce was merely wishful thinking on his part, but there was no mistaking the intent of her glancing touches, the subtle perfume, the suddenly provocative attire on a woman who’d always preferred denim to lace. She wanted him back and she intended to get him back, by fair means or foul.
And he, blast it all, was losing the battle. How could he hold out against a woman he’d never stopped loving the past 6 years, or wanting?
“Deacon?”
“Hmm?” he responded distractedly. When she stroked his cheek with a lingering caress, his gaze shot up. Where had she come from? She rarely entered his room without knocking, but here she was, lips moist, color high. He eyed her suspiciously. “What?”
’Cause in another’s eyes
I’m afraid that I can’t see
This picture perfect portrait
That they paint of me
And they don’t realize
And I pray to God they never do
‘Cause every time I look
I’m seeing you
In another’s eyes
“Do you have a minute?” she asked, her expression all innocence as her hand fell away.
She was wearing white shorts and some skimpy little triangle of fabric that pretended to be a blouse. Aside from a few bows holding it all together, her back was bare, as were her feet. Rather than her usual pale-pink, she had painted her toenails a kick-ass-red. Staring down at those erotic little toes, he lost his train of thought completely.
“Deacon, do you have a minute?” she repeated, amusement threading through her voice.
“I suppose,” he said uneasily. “Is there a problem with the twins?”
“No. They’re fine. They’re spending the night with my mother. They won’t be back till after lunchtime tomorrow.”
Uh-oh, he thought. They were alone. She was in his room, not her own, and she was wearing that sexy scent again, the one that made his pulse pound.
“The house?” he asked, sounding a little desperate even to his own ears. He cleared his throat. “Is there a problem with the house? I, um, I could call the contractor.” He reached for the phone, clung to it as if it were a lifeline.
Quarter moon always makes me think of you
Are you thinking of me too?
When you see it shine
It’s kind of sad
But I’m smiling
Imagine that
‘Cause we were lucky to have had what we had
If only for a time
She smiled. “Nope. It’s coming along right on schedule.”
That left what? he wondered, battling panic as he reluctantly set the phone aside. What the heck did she want? Besides him, of course. Oh, she definitely wanted him, he concluded, meeting her gaze and discovering the heat there.
“Then what’s on your mind?” he asked, resigned to a really tough test of his willpower.
She edged closer, sat on the corner of his desk, her gaze locked with his, her very bare thigh nudging his. Even through his own jeans, he could feel the temperature of her skin soar. His body reacted predictably with a rush of blood straight to his groin.
This was a dangerous game she was playing. He wondered if she realized it. One glance into her smoldering eyes answered that. She knew, all right. And she was enjoying ever single second of making him sweat, of watching him struggle with himself to do the right thing. She was deliberately trying to blast his conscience right out of the water.
“Colleen?” he prodded, a hitch in his voice.
A purely female smile came and went. “I’m not making you nervous, am I?”
Chorus
Didn’t we set the nights on fire?
Did ever a flame burn any higher?
Wasn’t it so sweet?
Wasn’t it?
Didn’t we love
Nervous? Hell, no. He was coming unglued. He was about to go up in flames.
“This…” He cleared his throat yet again. “This isn’t wise.”
He sounded like a cranky, sixty-year-old prude. Evidently she thought so, too, because she chuckled, a low, throaty sound that danced down his spine like a flame.
“Really? Why not?”
“Do I really have to explain it?”
She regarded him thoughtfully for a second, then nodded. “Yes, I think you do.”
“Because we have issues,” he began, then all but groaned. Not a sixty-year-old prude. Maybe ninety—and a stiff-necked psychiatrist to boot.
Its okay, sometimes I just get this way
I can’t forget you anyway, I wouldn’t even try
I’d rather fall than never to have flown at all
It was heaven after all, if only for a time
She nodded, acknowledging what he said, but she didn’t look swayed. Nor did she budge one millimeter away from his thigh.
“Care to talk about them?” she asked, her tone only mildly curious.
Now there was a loaded question, if ever he’d heard one. If he said yes, he would be opening up the whole blasted can of worms he’d been trying so hard to ignore. If he said no, he was pretty sure she had some other way for them to spend the time.
He swallowed hard, cleared his throat, then shrugged. “What’s the point?” he asked, proud of himself for coming up with a third option, an evasion that might annoy her enough to convince her to leave.
“Oh, I don’t know. It might clear the air,” she said, sounding amused perhaps, but definitely not annoyed.
He, however, was getting downright irritable. Her attitude was exasperating. Her proximity was arousing. The conflicting messages were roaring around in his head…and elsewhere.
“It. Would. Not. Clear. The. Air.” He bit the words out from between clenched teeth.
Chorus
Didn’t we set the nights on fire?
Did ever a flame burn any higher?
Wasn’t it so sweet?
Wasn’t it?
Didn’t we love
She swung her legs, deliberately letting her calf brush his. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her expression serious, even thoughtful. “We won’t know unless we try.”
He narrowed his gaze and studied her. “Is that what you really want?” he asked skeptically. “A nice, polite discussion, a chance to make a few excuses, maybe even some promises?”
A spark of anger flashed in her eyes, and he thought for a second she might really explode, tell him to take his sarcasm and shove it. Instead, she leaned over until her gaze was level with his, until he could feel the soft whisper of her breath against his cheek. His heart raced.
“No,” she said in that same quiet, intense tone. “This is what I want.”
Before he could even catch his breath, her mouth was on his, sweet and urgent and hot. Her tongue skimmed his lips, then slid inside, tangling with his. And Deacon was pretty sure his entire body was going to go up in flames.
For one tiny, fleeting second, he considered a protest, ordered himself to utter it, in fact, but the moment passed in a frenzy of need. This was what he’d missed, this was what he and Colleen could be together if only he could let go of his anger and his stiff-necked pride. All it would take was the little matter of forgiving her, of letting go of the past. Right now he was too caught up in the moment to give a hang about anything, the past included.
He groaned and claimed her, deepening the kiss, blanking out all of the arguments against what was happening and seizing the pulse-pounding moment.
Didn’t we have it all back then?
Will I ever feel that way again?
She slid into his lap, all willing and eager and hot as a winter fire, just the way he remembered. When he would have moved beyond the devastating kisses for more, she held him still, savoring the mating of their mouths, discovering the amazing nuances possible in a kiss.
His hand drifted to her thigh, skimmed along warm, supple skin until he reached the core of her heat. He hesitated there, knowing that they were crossing the point of no return. If he touched her intimately, if she let him, there would be no going back. He would have to bury himself inside her. He would have to discover if reality matched fantasy, if the present could equal the memory. He would have to rediscover every texture, every taste, every throbbing response. He would have to make her his.
And he would be hers. Forever. Without denials or recriminations or regrets. Forgiveness might be a struggle for some time to come, but this, this would be a given, a habit too hard to break for a second time in his life.
He sighed and held still, waiting for the panic to wash through him, waiting for the anger to resurface and destroy desire. He waited and waited, but it didn’t happen.
Instead, anticipation built…along with soul-wrenching need and astonishing heat.
And then she smoothed her hand across his brow as if to wipe away the worry, the distress that had kept him—kept them—from moving on. He was lost, caught up in the magical spell of her touch, in the powerful pull of her tenderness.
“I want you,” he admitted at long last. “You have no idea how much I want you.”
Chorus
Didn’t we set the nights on fire?
Did ever a flame burn any higher?
Wasn’t it so sweet?
Wasn’t it?
Didn’t we love
“I think I do,” she soothed, beginning to work the buttons of his shirt.
Her knuckles skimmed lightly across his chest, and then her mouth was there, clever and damp and eager. Her touch turned the wanting to a persistent ache.
Deacon thought he might finally understand what was like to be ravished, to be taken completely and not have the will to fight it, just to go along for the astonishing ride. He was on sensory overload, climbing to a peak that he had no intention of reaching alone.
He reached for Colleen’s hands, still them, then shifted to evade her lips. “Enough,” he commanded, his voice ragged.
Startled smoky eyes met his.
“I am not making love with my ex-wife for the first time since the separation in an uncomfortable, straight-backed chair,” he said, scooping her into his arms and standing up.
He carried her to the bed in the next room. There were a dozen times along the way when could have allowed sane, sensible thoughts to crowd in and end this, but he ignored everything but the feel of the woman in his arms, the need pounding through his veins.
Isn’t it bittersweet, isn’t it?
Didn’t we love?
xoxoxo
Colleen hadn’t been nearly as sure of herself as she’d wanted Deacon to believe. There had been moments, more than she could count, when she’d wanted to dash from the room rather than risk the rejection she feared was coming. Only grim determination and the terror that this might be her one and only chance had kept her there when he’d made it plain he wanted her to go.
Now, as he held her in his arms, as he made steady, deliberate progress toward his bed, she began to allow hope to flare along with desire. Surely this would be the beginning. Surely after tonight the barriers would come down and they would be able to communicate as they once had, as friends and as lovers. Not perfectly, not without setbacks, but with the commitment of two people who’d finally figured out what mattered most in their lives.
Inside the room dominated by that great expanse of bed, Colleen felt a moment’s triumph. She had gotten them this far. She had taken control of her life—not by running, but by staying. If there had been time, if Deacon’s cleaver hands hadn’t been busily stripping away her clothes, she would have taken the time to pat herself on the back for finally maturing enough to stay the course, no matter how difficult.
But Deacon clearly didn’t intend to give her—or himself—time to think. His touches, like hers earlier, were meant to excite. His kisses became deeper and more urgent. When his mouth closed over her breast, a wildfire burst into flame inside her.
This was the way it had been seven years ago—powerful, all-consuming need, frenzied caresses and a buildup so sweet, so intense, that she was sure she would die from it. Instead, just when she thought she could go no higher, when it seemed likely that her body was about shudder in a wild, cataclysmic release, Deacon found some way to ease her down before lifting her back to a new and even higher peak.
Beneath him, she moaned, straining, desperate and awash in sensations, frantic for him to bury himself inside her. His work-roughened hands were gentle, skillful and oh, so devious—tender one second, demanding the next. His muscles, hard from working out in the gym, bunched beneath her touch. The body that had invaded her dreams, filling her head with erotic images, was even better in reality. Seven years had added strength and agility, had turned awkward, if delicious, fumbling into skillful lovemaking.
She might have had the will and the incentive to take the initiative tonight, but Deacon was in control now, setting the pace, destroying her with his devastating kisses, his tormenting touches. She wanted…she needed…
Chorus
Didn’t we set the nights on fire?
Did ever a flame burn any higher?
Wasn’t it so sweet?
Wasn’t it?
Didn’t we love
“Deacon, please,” she begged. “Now. I want you inside me now.”
His eyes glittered with satisfaction. His hands cupped her face, and his gaze locked with hers.
Then, oh, so slowly, he entered her at last, sinking deep inside her, filling her. She gasped at the pleasure of it, at the sense of fulfillment that stole over her.
But then he was moving and her body was soaring until together they climbed to the highest peak yet. This time there was no retreat, no blessed relief, just this building urgency, this frantic, fevered yearning that grew hotter and wilder until it exploded through her, then him in shuddering waves.
Deacon murmured her name over and over as they clung together, trembling, then slowly…slowly returned to earth…to his bed…to reality.
And to all the problems that couldn’t be resolved so easily.
Colleen banished that thought as soon as it dared to creep in. She wouldn’t allow it, wouldn’t allow anything to spoil this moment. She had waited too long—not just since she let Deacon walk out the door, but years. Illusion or not, she deserved this sweet oblivion.
Chorus
Didn’t we set the nights on fire?
Did ever a flame burn any higher?
Wasn’t it so sweet?
Wasn’t it?
Didn’t we love
She sighed and cuddled more tightly against Deacon. His arm held her securely, his hand rested on her hip. His breathing grew steadier, whispering against hot, fevered skin, cooling it.
FIN. |
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