Paradox (Pearson Sisters Series Book 1)

by C. A. Harms

  Sheathing myself, I notice the way she watches my movements and realize this is the first time she has seen me naked.

  I decide to say nothing as I saunter across the living room and lower myself to my knees before her once again.

  I wrap my hand around my hardness and guide myself toward her, watching her eyes as I slowly begin to slide inside of her. She shifts against me, biting her lip before I bury myself deep and her lips part in a gasp. Pausing, I try to control my breathing and come to terms with the fact that this is one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life. The way her body fits perfectly to mine, the way she touches me and looks at me as if I am all she ever needs and will ever need. The connection I feel, it’s unexplainable and something I have never experienced before. It’s so much more than just physical, and that fact scares the hell out of me yet captivates me too.

  Pulling back, I push inside of her once again and watch as her eyes roll back, just before a low almost growl escapes her lips.

  And I am lost.

  Lost in the way she watches me, so much expressed in her eyes. The way she looks at me, it makes me feel weak and so unbelievably strong all at the same time.

  Being able to walk away from this unaffected is no longer possible. Tonight changes everything.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Janelle

  I lay on his couch, Shane’s body curled securely around mine from behind. The early morning sun peeks in through the blinds on his windows, highlighting his kitchen and living room. I can hear his slow intake of breath, just before feeling him exhale. The warmth of his breath fans out over my shoulder and neck, leaving a sense of heightened awareness in its path. Awareness of what has taken place between us, the line we’ve crossed. A line I am okay to breach but know that most likely he will regret.

  That idea leaves an ache in my stomach.

  Everything was perfect; each move he made and even the naughty nature of his words was something I wouldn’t change. I’d never been with a man so demanding, and last night showed me what I was missing out on.

  Feeling the weight of his body shift behind me, I hold my breath and wait for his words, but they never come. Instead, the arm he had securely wrapped around me lifts, and when I look back over my shoulder, I find it now rests over his eyes. Lips parted slightly, one leg thrown over the back of the couch, a soft snore begins to fill the quietness, and my heart rate begins to return to normal.

  That awkwardness that one feels after a night with a new guy settles. That uncertainty of what they will say, do, or how they will act, it’s been laying heavy on my shoulders from the first moment I opened my eyes. I don’t want to hear that what took place was a mistake.

  I carefully begin to slide from the couch and search the floor for my clothes. As I pull my shirt up and over my head, I keep my eyes directed to the man on the couch. The very naked and unbelievably sexy man who only hours ago rocked my world.

  How does one come back from something like that? From an experience that is not just physical?

  Carefully, I place one leg and then the other into my shorts before standing to shimmy my hips as I pull them up.

  After completely getting dressed, I take one last look at the gorgeous man still baring it all and begin to back away toward the front door. Twisting the knob, I pull open the door and turn, only to come face to face with a man outside on the porch. His hand is lifted as if he is about to knock.

  He looks at me then leans back and looks up at the house like he thinks he may possibly be standing on the wrong porch and then shifts his gaze back to me.

  Of course I say nothing, just stare like a damn fool.

  He wears a muscle shirt, gym shorts, and a smile.

  Looking over my shoulder, I don’t have to glance back to know exactly what he’s staring at.

  “Hey, buddy.” A sly smile creeps over his lips, and I close my eyes tight, silently praying that he’s calling me buddy and not—

  “Slate.” A low grumble fills the space around me just before Shane wraps his arm around my waist. With one fast movement, he turns my body in toward his as if to shield me, and a warmth fills my chest. “You mind giving me and Janelle a few minutes alone?”

  And here it is, the letdown, the sorry about last night but it was a mistake speech. The earlier warmth I felt is replaced with an emptiness.

  “You got it.” His friend steps inside and slaps Shane on the back in a congratulatory manner, and I remain where I am, pressed against him, trying to drag out the moment of closeness for as long as I can.

  I notice he took the time to at least put on boxers.

  “Sorry about him.” Taking in a slow, calm breath, I force a smile and step back. Shane reaches out for me, which is surprising, and I think he notices my reaction because his brows furrow. “Hey.” Linking his fingers through mine, he slouches enough to look me in the eyes and offers a smile. “What’s going on in your mind?”

  Beginning to shake my head, I already know by the look on his face that he has no intentions of letting me out of this conversation easily.

  “Last night was pretty great.” His comment surprises me, and even though I try not to express it, I know that I give it away completely. “I don’t regret it.”

  “Me neither.” I say the words in a rush and feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment.

  “That’s good.” I am a fool. “I can’t make promises, I already told you this, but I also can’t walk away and pretend that I’m okay with that, either. All I can say is that I’ll try.”

  My heart rate spikes.

  Shane lifts his hand toward my face, and my eyes flutter shut when the pad of his thumb runs over my lower lip, just before his palm rests upon my jaw. “Dinner tonight?”

  I nod. “Pizza.” He grins like I’ve just made this the easiest decision in the world.

  “Does it matter what kind?”

  “No, surprise me.” As long as he’s the one holding the pizza when I open my door, I would eat anchovies. Okay, fine, so maybe I would pick them off, but still I wouldn’t cringe when I saw the vile things ruining our dinner. “I’ll supply the beer.”

  His smile widens.

  Hearing a loud crash like a pan hitting the floor, we both look back toward his kitchen and see Slate peek his head around the corner, “Sorry.” With a wink and a smile, he is gone again.

  “I need to get smarter friends.” Shane’s chest vibrates with laughter, and I can’t help but join him. The fact is it is more about seeing him smile and laugh than about the actual reasons behind his laughter. Since I’ve met him, his happiness has been a rarity. The guy wears a perpetual frown and always seems so weighed down with worry that he rarely lets go and just laughs. It is beautiful, honestly, to see him relax. After last night, I wasn’t sure where we would be this morning, but this, this is good.

  “I better get in there before he breaks something or burns down my house.” Shane places his hands on my hips, and mine immediately come to rest upon his biceps. “Is seven too late?”

  “No, it’s perfect.” Something crosses over his face, an emotion that happens so fast I’m unsure of how to describe it or what it may have meant. Leaning in, he presses a soft kiss to my lips before placing his forehead against mine, taking in a slow, even breath. He stays like that for a few seconds until he stands tall and tugs my body into his, wrapping me in his arms snugly.

  “I know I’m confusing you, I’m confusing myself, but now that I’ve—” He pauses. I want to attempt to finish his sentence, a million different meanings running around in my head. Now that I’ve got you, I can’t ever let you go. Now that I’ve spent the evening with you in my arms, I want to repeat that feeling over and over. Now that I’ve felt your body against mine, I know that I can walk away and move on. Each scenario is frightening in its own way.

  “I said I can’t do this, that my life is too crazy and complicated, which is true. The problem is that I know I can’t walk away from you and pretend that I don’t want you. I know
seeing you, hearing you, or not knowing what you’re doing when I could be doing whatever it is with you will all drive me insane. So I guess what I’m saying is I know that I’ll be bad at this, I know that I’ll mess up, but I’m willing to try if you are.”

  Cue the schoolgirl, because that annoying little shit is doing cartwheels and squealing in my mind.

  “I think I’d like that.” Like, love, whatever—same difference.

  “I’ll see you tonight.” He gives me one last kiss, this one triggering all the memories of last night together and making it extremely difficult to walk away. Shane is sexual; I know this now. He takes every kiss, every touch, and the recipient feels it throughout their entire body. Like an electric force, coursing through my veins. I swear I can still feel my body humming from all the things he did last night.

  “Open your eyes, Janelle.” They shoot open, and I find him staring at me with a knowing smirk. “Keep those visions in your mind, sweetheart, and tonight we’ll see if we can relive each one.”

  Oh my hell, how embarrassing.

  As if the idea that he figured out I was thinking about how his mouth felt on all parts of my body wasn’t bad enough, what do I do in return to his comment? I nod. Yeah, I flipping nod like an idiot and smile. Someone smack me. I am a fool.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Shane

  The gym is filled with the sounds of weights shifting, the clinking as they are lowered to the floor or lifted once again, grunts, the sounds of exertion all around us, and I am fully aware of the fact that Slate is watching me closely. He hasn’t said much about this morning or about showing up to find Janelle at my place as I stood behind her naked.

  I woke to see her attempting to sneak off undetected and planned to hurry after her before she got the chance to escape when she yanked open my front door and there stood Slate.

  Embarrassment and surprise were on my side, because I was able to say the things I needed to in order to ease her worries. I did not regret last night; in fact, I want to relive it over and over. They way Janelle felt in my arms, the way her body reacted to my touch, was incredible.

  “So Blondie?”

  And there it is, the questioning begins. Subtle, not even a little.

  “Was she trying to sneak off? Because that’s what it looked like to me, but hell, I could be wrong.” I ignore my best friend as I continue my leg presses and concentrate on my breathing.

  “Usually it’s the guy that’s trying to slip away undetected,” he adds, and I can hear the humor in his words. I’ve known him long enough to understand that he is truly enjoying having the chance to hassle me. “Did she honestly try to pull a bone and bolt on you?”

  Bone and bolt?

  I say nothing as I climb off the machine and grab for my water bottle on the floor at its side.

  “Are you actually going to ignore me and give me nothing?” He lives for this kind of thing. The guy is a whore, always has been, and I’m not sure that will ever change. He enjoys women too much, as in lots of women. The idea of him ever settling down and being happy with just one is a joke. “Last I heard, she hated you, or so you told us. Then I show up at your place to find her wearing very little.” The way he says that gains my attention. It must be in my eyes because he chuckles. “Come on, man, you know yourself that the little number she was wearing gave away any true hope of discretion.”

  “Watch it.” It’s true, but it is in his best interest to move on and fast.

  “Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

  No bra, tight shirt, light colored, yeah, I fucking understand completely.

  “Just tell me that what’s beneath is exactly what I’m imagining.”

  I lunge at him, and he must have been fully prepared. He moves back out of my reach and begins to chuckle. “That’s what I thought.” I think of all the ways I want to beat his ass for thinking of Janelle in the way I know he is as he wags his eyebrows at me.

  Continuing to glare at him and work off the frustration I feel, I think about seeing Janelle again. I know I am playing a dangerous game allowing myself to believe that things with her and I can be easy, but I can’t stop. After last night, after the things she said and the way she gave herself over to me so freely, I know without a doubt walking away is no longer an option. She may think she is the one feeling vulnerable, but she couldn’t be more wrong. She’s managed to change everything.

  After another hour working out, I take a quick shower and change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. With my hair still wet, I simply run my hands through it and exit the gym.

  As I walk across the parking lot toward my truck, I feel a lightness that I can’t honestly remember feeling before. Like a weight lifted from my shoulders.

  Driving toward Evergreen Estates, I turn up the dial to my radio and sing along. As I turn into the parking lot, I find the first open space and park. Grabbing the small arrangement of daisies off the passenger seat, I practically float to the front entrance. Each nurse or aide I pass along the way to my mother’s room offers me a smile or a nod. Upon entering, I hear the soft hum of music playing from the iPod near the dock at my mother’s bedside. I had downloaded hundreds of songs, making playlists for her of all her older favorite songs and even some newer stuff that I was sure she’d love. Martha would set it up for her, rotating between playlists to give her comfort. I hate the idea of her sitting in a silent room all day; it doesn’t matter to me that she never talks or responds. I want her to have some type of entertainment. Just in case she can hear what is going on around her.

  Pausing near her bedside, I lean over and press a kiss to her forehead. “Hey, Ma.” Leaning back, I hold the flowers out before me, and I can almost imagine what her smile would look like. Daisies were her favorite, especially the yellow ones. “I brought your favorite today.” Stepping back, I take the older, almost wilted flowers from the vase on her bedside table and replace them with the fresh ones.

  Just then her room door opens, and I look up to see Sandy, the aide who often assists my mother throughout the weekend and on Martha’s days off. She’s a sweet girl, early twenties, and always smiling.

  “Good morning.” She tucks her chin shyly and walks over to the side of my mother’s bed. “Yellow ones,” with a shift of her head, she indicates she is referring to the flowers, “her favorite.”

  One thing I absolutely love about this facility is the fact that each person here treats the patients as if they are family. They aren’t just people occupying a bed.

  “How is she doing today?”

  “This beautiful lady is doing great.” Sandy raises the head of my mother’s bed and brushes back the hair that has fallen over her forehead. “We were just about to move her down to the TV room for our afternoon movie.” Sandy pauses with her hand resting on my mother’s that lay upon her lap. “But if you’d like to keep her here for a visit—”

  “Actually, I think I’ll join her for the movie today.”

  “The Notebook?” Sandy seems to find humor in the choice of movie. I, on the other hand, have no idea why. I’ve heard of it but can’t for the life of me tell you exactly what it’s about. “Okay, but you don’t really strike me as the chick-flick kind of guy.”

  I try to keep a straight face, but on the inside, I’m already cringing.

  Fifteen minutes later, I am lounging in a chair in the common room with about thirty patients sitting round me. There is a mixture of men and women, each with different levels of care needed. To my left sits my mother, comfortably tucked in her own reclining chair, and to my right is Theo.

  Theo can talk, walk, and from what I’ve seen, the man is coherent enough to understand what is going on around him. The only thing I’ve been able to pick up on is that he had one hip replacement, and on the opposite leg he has a prosthetic from the knee down. With very little help at home, he is a resident here, where he tends to do all he can to charm the ladies at every turn. The man has some game for his age; I’ll give him that.


  Did I mention Theo farts? A lot!

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I think of texting Janelle to tell her I’m looking forward to tonight but realize that I don’t have her number. Instead, I open up my Facebook browser, an app I haven’t used in months, and start to look around. Scrolling along, I see a post from Katy, my ex, and though I know I shouldn’t click on her page, I do it anyway.

  One image after another of her and some guy. She looks happy; in most of the images, she is smiling, looking up at him like she’s in love. I feel happy for her, I do, but part of me I guess hoped that she was single. Not because I want her back, but because seeing her single would mean that I wasn’t right about me being what was holding her back. Instead, I find she has finished her degree and in the spring of next year she is getting married.

  Good for her, but yes, hard to acknowledge.

  Janelle’s face fills my mind, and I tap the search icon and begin to type out her name.

  Janelle Pearson

  Immediately the results begin to load and I see her. An image of not just her, but one with her and her sisters set as her profile picture. One with all three smiling in a weird way, their noses crinkled and their eyes crossed and shifting in odd directions. It makes me smile in return as I picture the three of them laughing and having a good time. The image is much like what I’ve witnessed when it comes to the Pearson girls; they are close, and they enjoy life.

  Would I dim the light that surrounds this perfect girl?

  I attempt to shake off the thought as I click request friendship. Her profile is private, but I can view a few images, mostly those she’s been tagged in, and I look through them. Images of her with friends, others with her sisters, but in every single one she is breathtaking. She’s got the kind of smile that reaches her eyes, that genuine beauty that lights up her face.

  “I told you that you weren’t the chick-flick kind of guy.” I peek back over my shoulder to find Sandy leaning in as she readjusts a pillow for the woman sitting behind me. She doesn’t wait for my response as she moves on to the next in need, and I find myself watching her. A girl like Sandy would understand my life; she would get that I can’t fully commit because I never know what is going to happen at any given time. I wouldn’t have to face that awkward moment when I tell the girl I’m with that I can’t give her my all because my mother will always be number one in my life. With Sandy, it would be easy.