Flawless: (Fearsome Series Book 4)

by S. A. Wolfe

  I gently pry her hands off me and step back. “Thank you for inviting me over tonight,” I say, hoping I don’t come off as a jerk who was leading her on.

  The sparkle in her eyes diminishes, but she recovers quickly with that cool, casual expression of hers. “We’ll see you tomorrow night.” There’s no hint of anger, so maybe I imagined her intentions.

  As I pull into my own driveway next to Talia’s bike lying in its crashed position, I can’t help thinking that Harmony’s touches and kisses seemed to be more than misdirected friendliness. They were an expression of ownership, a sense of entitlement because she has something I want.

  Talia

  PANTS ON FIRE. THAT’S all I can think of as Peyton comes storming into his house. I’m in his kitchen, preparing a bowl of strawberries and fresh whipped cream, hoping I can play a game of slow seduction with him before he goes all caveman and throws me on the bed.

  I’m about to ask how his dinner with Finn went when he holds up his finger to shush me.

  “It was a great,” he says, not stopping to kiss me hello or talk. He just walks briskly down the hall. “I need a shower! It’s been a long day!”

  He didn’t even notice I’m wearing his robe. I’m naked underneath, and I’m holding a bowl of whipped cream. I’m ready for the Peyton Olympics, and he didn’t even notice.

  I take the dessert, walk down to his room, and place the bowl on the nightstand. His clothes are lying in a pile next to the bed. He also didn’t notice the room is lit only with candles. The bed covers have been gently folded back, and I added extra fluffed pillows to the headboard. Obviously, I staged this for a premium seduction scene, and obviously Peyton missed it. It was stupid to think he’d have anything on his mind other than the child he just discovered.

  My foolish insecurity rears its ugly head again.

  The bathroom door is ajar, so I push it open and walk into the steaming room. The clear, vinyl shower curtain around the large, vintage clawfoot tub is fogged up. I see Peyton’s fuzzy, hulking form as he washes his arms vigorously. I want those arms around me. I missed him.

  I knew he was having fun with Finn, and I’m happy for him. The boy is adorable and tender-hearted like his father. I want to tell Peyton that, and I want to tell him that I missed him. Not because I only want sex; I want to be with him.

  “Hey!” I fling back the shower curtain and, once again, I have that thing where your tongue is tied or knotted, or whatever that damn expression is.

  His hair is slicked back, making his high cheekbones more prominent. His wet body looks like a perfectly molded Greek sculpture from the gallery at the Met Museum. The water is running down his spectacular muscles and solid planes as he raises his arms and washes underneath, making it look like an art form. His body is a piece of art, and my body reacts in kind. A flutter in my stomach and a tingling between my legs. All I can think about is his body between my legs.

  “Hey.” He grins.

  I loosen the belt and let the robe fall to the floor. Peyton’s grin disappears as his eyes wander down from my eyes to my breasts.

  I run one of my hands across a hard nipple while stroking an inner thigh. I want him, and his cock is already fully erect. I wave a condom foil in my other hand.

  “I missed you,” he says, sounding hoarse. “Get in here with me.”

  There aren’t any walls to support us in a free-standing tub for shower sex. “Let’s turn off the shower and run the bath,” I suggest. “Do condoms work underwater?”

  Peyton sends a wave of water over the edge of the tub as he rushes to grab the condom from me to put it on.

  I switch the valve so the water pours out of the bath spout, and then I open the shower curtain.

  When I step into the warm bathwater, Peyton pulls me into him with a possessiveness I like. He leans against the back of the large tub, and I straddle him. His lips and mouth taste like toothpaste, and I think it’s funny and sweet that he felt he needed to brush his teeth and shower before seeing me.

  Our kisses are aggressive, sloppy, biting, hard. Peyton is rougher than usual, squeezing my breasts and biting my nipples. He groans as I hold his cock and rub it between my legs. Then he grabs my hips and pulls me onto him so he can slam himself into me. We both yelp and grunt with each thrust. We are animals.

  My planned seduction of berries and whipped cream and slow, erotic touches is nothing compared to our thrashing bodies. I hold on to the rim of the tub and slide my body up and down, fast and hard. He has his fingers between my legs, stroking me, and his mouth on my nipple, sucking and nibbling. The water is slopping over the sides of the tub, and one of us has the sense to shut off the faucet. Maybe it was me.

  I throw my head back with the growing climax and push myself more forcefully on his cock.

  Peyton grunts. “Oh, shit.”

  He comes. Of course, he comes. Guys can orgasm anywhere, anytime. Bastards! However, bathtub sex is not as friendly to me.

  Peyton lifts me out of the tub and actually puts me on the bath rug, and he goes down on me until I’m in a euphoric state and scream.

  It took work. I think my mistake was thinking I could have sex in a bathroom, when really, I find bathrooms to be very unsexy. They make me think of sick people and their germs and the most unpleasant bodily functions. Hence, Peyton put in everything he had to make me climax.

  After that exhaustive effort, he has enough sense to carry me to his bed for the next round.

  • • •

  In the morning, Peyton wakes me up, ready for sex again. It’s quicker this time, no fancy foreplay, and I don’t climax. I pretend to be sated because I can tell he’s distracted and needs to talk but isn’t necessarily comfortable about it. I prod him anyway.

  “I don’t think I can adequately describe what it was like hanging out with Finn.” Peyton strokes my arm, giving me goosebumps. He has a half-smile when he talks about his son, as though he can’t contain his euphoria. “I can sum it up as great. Overwhelming, but great.”

  “You’re such a guy.” I laugh. “All you can say is it was great!”

  “Well, great is good. What do you want me to say?” He tickles my skin with his fingers. When I shiver, Peyton immediately pulls the comforter up to cover my bare arms.

  “You could tell me more about what you’re feeling.”

  “Ah, hell. Feelings. Women and feelings.”

  “Don’t be a jerk. When I was watching you with Finn, you seemed like his dad. If I had just met you and was your waitress, I would have assumed you were his father. Not because he resembles you, because he actually looks more like Harmony. It was the way you talked to him; the way Finn was looking at you. Seriously, how does it feel to be a dad?”

  Peyton studies me for a moment. Even after all the personal information we’ve shared, this topic must be the most difficult. It’s the most intimate because, unlike his relationships with women, this one with his son is special. It’s permanent.

  “I feel like his dad. Maybe it’s because I see my mother and father in him, too, so it makes it easy to jump right in and feel comfortable with him. Maybe it’s because he’s an awesome kid and I want to be his dad. Whatever it is, I like it.”

  “Good. I’m happy for you. And I’m happy for Finn. This is good, and it’s special for both of you.”

  “Says the woman who’s pissed at her father and doesn’t want to see him.”

  I shrug. “When things were good, my family had a good walk. Those days are gone. Nothing I can do about it.”

  “You had a good run,” he says with a laugh. “And you can do something about it. Maybe not with your dad, but you can help your mom.”

  “Peyton, nothing has worked. We can’t get her out of that house.”

  “I’ll help you organize an intervention or something.”

  “Or something,” I mumble. “Enough about my crazy family. What did you and Harmony talk about? Was it easy or awkward?”

  “It was fine. Everything is fine.”


  “Fine? She had your baby and you didn’t know for the past ten years that she was raising your son. Didn’t she fill you in on more details about what it was like to have a baby when she was a teenager and raise him alone? Didn’t she share what she went through or how she felt all these years?”

  “That ship has sailed,” he says, and of course I’m picturing a big boat leaving the dock. What a dumb expression. “We talked about Finn and what he needs. We’re going to stick to that.”

  “How tidy. You make it sound very uncomplicated and easy.”

  “There’s no reason for it to be difficult. We’re adults now. We both want to do what’s best for Finn, and that’s how it’s going to be.” With that declaration, it’s understood he’s not going to discuss Harmony.

  I don’t know if either of them has residual feelings for the other. Maybe they were both struck with a bit of nostalgia last night; memories of raging teenage hormones reminding them of their beautiful youth and the ferocious desire young love holds over you. But then, Peyton wouldn’t be here with me if he still had feelings for Harmony. I tell myself that, but is it true? Maybe he’s conflicted, and whatever he felt for her long ago is still there and he’s waiting for Harmony to let him back into her life.

  A rush of jealousy bleeds through me. In one breath, I push it down.

  Peyton and I are two battered souls who find temporary comfort in each other’s arms. He tells me I’m good and deserve better than men like Marko. He makes me feel beautiful. It should be enough for what we are.

  This is unlike any other friendship I have had. We can talk for hours, but we also sleep together and make love like we are the only two people in the world and our bodies and souls cannot get close enough. It’s only after, when we’re naked and entwined in bed, that I remember he isn’t going to be more than my friend. And now with Finn and Harmony, I’m even farther down on the list of people in his life.

  “Are you all right?” Peyton asks. Sitting up and cupping my chin, he turns my face toward him.

  I gently remove his hand from my face and hold it. “I’m fine. I was thinking about everything you need to do to make room for Finn in your life. I can help you turn the guest room into his bedroom. We can make it special, and—”

  “Let’s deal with tonight first. Dinner. All those people I have to talk to. All those people who will want explanations.”

  I’m modestly covering my chest with the sheet, but I greedily admire his naked chest and think, if I keep seducing him, maybe I can stay in his life.

  Eventually we’ll have to stop sleeping together. Eventually our friendship will fade. It’s inevitable. I imagine him moving to a nice, suburban home in Westchester, rekindling a love for Harmony and raising their son together.

  “Tonight is going to be perfect,” I reassure him.

  “Can you muzzle Imogene and my family so they don’t scare Finn off?” He smiles and looks down at our clasped hands.

  “I’ll make tonight perfect for you,” I say and squeeze his hand because I do want to give this to him.

  I will make my best dishes and nourish their souls. I will break the tension by filling their bellies, and Finn will fill their hearts. It will be a night for Peyton and his son, and by the end of the evening, Peyton will go to bed more at ease with being a father because all the people in the room will be people who love him.

  What he fears is being judged. His family will automatically release him from any sense of blame, since they are loving and easy. It’s Finn’s opinion that matters the most, but my gut tells me that Finn will love Peyton without fault.

  • • •

  After Peyton’s staff meeting, he puts Bash in charge and takes me shopping for all the ingredients I need for tonight. He’s sparing no expense. Peyton wants three main courses, four side dishes, and two desserts.

  I cook at the restaurant rather than his house since it has more ovens and better equipment. Peyton finds reasons to hover and watch me, so I give him taste tests of each item. When I place a prosciutto-wrapped fig in his mouth or give him a forkful of braised short ribs, he looks at me like I’m the goddess who invented food. He loves everything, and his compliments please me.

  At one point, he’s worried it’s too much work for one person and thinks he’s overtaxing my heart. He’s smart enough not to use those exact words, but it’s implied. I give him one bitchy look, and he drops the issue.

  When we arrive at his house, Imogene and Aleska are in the middle of arranging furniture and preparing the kitchen table for my buffet.

  While I set up the chafing dishes for the hot food, Peyton keeps himself busy with the makeshift bar.

  “I don’t know why we can’t put up balloons,” Imogene interjects.

  Aleska shoves a couch against a wall with a grunt. “Because it isn’t a kiddie party.”

  “It’s for Peyton’s kid; therefore, it is kind of kiddie-ish. Why not make it a little fun? We could put baby and childhood photos of Peyton and his family all over the walls and hanging from streamers. And we could mix in photos of Finn at every age. It would show Finn that he’s a part of the family.” Imogene is excited and doesn’t want to let her idea go, even though Peyton is ignoring her. “I’m serious! It would be a game. Guess who’s in the photo!”

  “We don’t have time to find and print photos, and you’d have to ask Harmony to email a bunch of photos of Finn. They’re going to be here in an hour, Imogene. There’s no time for decorations.” Exasperated, Aleska leaves the living room to help me in the kitchen.

  “Well, you people are certainly downers,” Imogene says. “I guess I’ll be Finn’s fun aunt and the rest of you are the party poopers.”

  Peyton chuckles. “How about a drink for all your effort? A martini, a shot of tequila?”

  “Please!”

  “Go easy on the liquor,” I say. “Peyton wants to impress Finn and Harmony.”

  Imogene raises an eyebrow. “Are you implying that I’m an obnoxious drunk?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not worried,” Peyton says. He has that far off look again as he uncaps a bottle and searches for a shot glass.

  I hand Imogene a pair of scissors. “I left two bouquets of flowers and some Mason jars in the back of Peyton’s truck. Why don’t you cut the stems and arrange them someplace in here?”

  “Oh, good. Decorating. Will do, right after my shot.”

  The buffet table is crowded with too many dishes, the ovens are warming more food, the windows are open to let in the spring breeze, and Peyton is anxiously pacing when his family members arrive. His father, Stu, and uncle Fraser are both big, grizzly bear-type men who lead the pack of MacKenzies into the house. Stu brought along his third wife, Mirabelle, and his three children from his second wife. His boys—Julian, Mason, and Toby—are roughly the same age as his grandchildren, so it’s a little funny when Peyton gives his four-year-old stepbrother, Julian, a high-five and calls him “bro.”

  Peyton’s twin brothers, Evan and Neill, also bring their children. Neil has a four-year-old son, Griffin, who looks a lot like Peyton; and Evan has twin, six-year-old girls, Casey and Bridget, who resemble their aunt Greer.

  By the time Greer arrives with her twins, Nikki and Owen, the noise level in the house rises to unbelievable decibels, much like a Chuck E. Cheese that’s filled to capacity with running, screaming children.

  It’s becoming like a private club—everyone who’s related to the MacKenzie clan. They’re all nice to me, but it’s quite obvious I’m the outsider. Even Imogene has managed to fit in seamlessly with Peyton’s large family, and not just because she married Cooper. It’s how she pushes herself into their personal business and is in on all their private jokes.

  The food keeps me busy. I keep checking the pans on the stove top and in the oven, then repeatedly make a sweep by the buffet table to adjust and add. I’m fidgeting, making myself look busier than I really am. Everything is done. All I have to do is refill the table once people start eating, but t
hat doesn’t stop me from acting like my mother on steroids, with all her checking and rechecking. It’s nonsense, but my mind is racing.

  I can’t remember any of the MacKenzie kids’ names once I’ve been introduced, and it seems strange to join in conversations that Peyton’s siblings are having about Harmony. They all remember her, and I certainly don’t have anything to add. As far as Peyton’s family is concerned, I was brought in to cook. They have no idea we have been seeing one another. Except, we haven’t been dating; we’ve been sleeping together. Period. Just sex.

  “Are you all right?” Peyton asks, gently pulling my hand away from a platter of baguettes stuffed with a variety of sandwich fillings. “You’ve been running around here like you’re preparing for a state dinner.”

  “I want everything to be nice, and I hope everyone likes the food.” My response is weak, but wearing a long, white restaurant apron allows me to hide behind my job title.

  “Everything is perfect. Thank you.” He smiles, gliding his hand up my arm.

  I pivot to shake his hand off my shoulder. “I don’t think you want to do that here.”

  He steps closer. “What? Talk to you?”

  “Your family doesn’t know about us, and your son and ex-girlfriend—or whatever she was to you—are about to show up, so this thing with me will make it all the more confusing.”

  Peyton lets out one of his deep sighs. “Sunflower, Greer already knows about us, and I’m pretty sure everyone else does, too.”

  “Even Harmony and Finn?” I ask, alarmed.

  “Well, no. I barely know Harmony. I haven’t told her about us, and it’s not something I’d discuss with Finn.”

  “Good. Don’t. Harmony is bringing Finn here to see you and your family. She doesn’t want your current playmate shoved in her face, and she definitely doesn’t want her son to meet your bed buddy.”