by JL Mac
“No worries. It was my pleasure to help out. This little squirt knows I’m a sucker for that big smile of his.” Sy grins wide, showcasing his own beautiful smile as he beams at the lovely little boy.
“You—uh, you should come to his next game. It’s Sunday at two. We could go grab some dinner afterward.” There goes that sly caress against his forearm again. Her smile is lopsided and I begrudgingly have to admit that she too, is really pretty and wholesome looking in that girl next-door sort of way.
Sy winces and tilts his head. “Thanks for the invite but I have plans already.” He thumbs to his truck and for the first time, the woman and child look up and notice me sitting here. I grumble quietly, murmuring a string of cusswords like a ventriloquist then hop out and extend my hand.
“Hello. I’m Raegan, nice to meet you.” I nod, smiling.
“Oh, likewise. I—I didn’t even see you sitting there. My gosh, you’re so pretty,” she laughs awkwardly glancing between Sylas and I. She rubs her palms down her denim Capri pants and swallows roughly.
“Thank you. And likewise.” She glances around looking very uncomfortable and my mind begins tossing around reasons why.
“Well we better get home. Ice cream is meltin’,” she says plucking the boy from Sylas’ arms.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Bye.”
We get into the truck and the drive toward Mrs. Oppenheim’s house is silence save for the elephant in the room whose trunk is blaring like a brass instrument.
“She seems very nice.”
“She is.” Sylas nods.
“The boy is adorable too,” I note.
“Yep. He’s a great kid,” Sy says glancing my way.
Have you been with her? Is she your girlfriend? Booty call? Is the boy your son?
Hey, jealousy, Negativity sings flatly.
“I take it there is a history there?”
“Meh,” he says as he wags his hand side to side, making a neither here nor there motion. “We went on a date once.”
“And…” I lead, with a small smile in place but territorialism spreads through my chest like dense sea fog settling over land.
“I enjoyed her company,” he nods but his eyes don’t quite reach mine.
“Her son has big brown eyes kind of like yours,” I lead, feigning nonchalance but the truth is my heart is folded in on itself waiting to hear whether Sylas has had a child—maybe children with some other woman. I shouldn’t care, really. I was the one that dumped him. I know I shouldn’t care in the slightest but I do.
“What’re you asking me Rae,” he squints one eye at me.
“Is he your son?”
Sy’s eyes go wide and his mouth hangs open for a moment. “Are you jealous baby?”
“Just answer the question,” I demand.
“No. I don’t have any kids,” he smirks shaking his head. All the tension in my chest releases at once and I feel my muscles relax. “Lisa is nice and all but I been keeping pretty busy pining over this pain in the ass chick from high school.” He smiles.
“Maybe you should do some spring cleaning. Offload mental real estate consumed by the pain in the ass chick from high school so you can make room for someone new.” Sy’s eyes snap my direction.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll get to that just as soon as I can,” he quips in a bored tone.
“I’m serious, Sy,” I say. And I am. He deserves happiness and as jealous as it makes me, I don’t want him to be alone forever especially not because of me.
“And I’m done discussing my future prospects with the woman who currently has my undivided attention until she hauls her fancy ass out of my life again.” His tone is frosty.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “Don’t be so touchy. I just think she and her kid are nice and if you wanted to date someone—I don’t know—she seems like a nice woman. That’s all.”
“Try not to seem so eager to offload me onto someone else,” he says brusquely and guilt crawls over me like vermin pillaging a carcass.
Better than making myself sick with envy. I know exactly how I am affected by my own territorial behavior. It would be wasted energy, anyway. The fact of it is, at some point I’ll get back to my life and my career and Sylas should be happy with someone else. If what we heard on the radio in his truck earlier is true, then I am close to getting everything I’ve ever wanted.
Sure about that? Negativity asks with her arms folded over her chest and her lips drawn to the corner of her mouth. I could run a presidential campaign for a female senator with an actual shot at getting the nomination and then America’s vote to fill the highest office in the land. She could pull it all off. She could win. The crap news piece that took a cheap shot at my reputation notwithstanding. I fire off an email to Bethany to find out all she can regarding the crap news piece and what is and isn’t true about Sweeney floating my name for her bid for the presidency.
Within a minute I get a text from Bethany letting me know that she “scored big” regarding venue change for BCF’s First Annual Benefit Banquet. I see three tiny dots bouncing in a bubble indicating she’s typing another message so I wait trying to ignore the excited nerves zipping around in my stomach.
“Oh yes. Much better,” I praise with my eyes locked on the image of a ballroom size event tent Bethany has sent along with guest capacity and the company details.
“What is it?” Sy says trying to peek at my phone and drive at the same time.
“Two hundred fifty more people at your event is what it is,” I smirk.
“Seriously?” Sy’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead to very nearly touch his hairline.
“Yes. Can you stop by the Community Center? Bethany says I just need to sort out a few details and we should be set to make this banquet double in size and hopefully in donations as well.”
“God, I love you, Raegan Potter.” He grins slapping his steering wheel with excitement but my smile falters at his words. They’re only playful, I know. They weren’t spoken in that way but hearing those words out of his mouth again makes the girl in me weep to hear them again but in the way that she was once accustomed to hearing them. With tenderness and depth and sincerity. “To the Community Center!” he declares doing a sharp U-turn that has me squealing and laughing as I grip the handle above my head.
In a matter of minutes at the Community Center where Mayor Deveraux and his assistant met with us, we had secured permission to essentially transform the community center venue into half indoors, half outdoors. It was pure dumb luck that the Annual Parish Fair is in town making preparations for the fair which is the following weekend. The massive tents the fair rents from a big name vendor are already in town, waiting to be used. After a few calls, and me and Bethany doing our best to charm the pants off the owner, we secured use of his largest tent, which is capable of hosting two hundred fifty people. The fact that the ceiling of the massive white tent is crystal clear providing a view of the sky is a perk.
“Thank you again. We truly appreciate your help with this fundraiser. Remember if there is anything I can do to repay the favor please do not hesitate to reach out to Bethany or directly to me. Absolutely, okay, bye.” I disconnect with the Mayor’s office and focus on my laptop screen seeing Bethany working away on her own time. She deserves a raise and a nicer boss.
“Bethany, how many network news affiliates have we lured in from New Orleans?”
“We have four big names, and half a dozen local news outlets planning to come out to do a piece the night of the banquet.”
“Great. We need as many as we can get.”
“I know how we can get more,” she says in a singsong, childlike voice. I look up at her face on my laptop screen. I narrow my eyes at the look of mischief in her eyes.
“How’s that?”
She sighs lightly and smirks. “Let the whole world know that Rae Potter, renowned political strategist and gal on Sweeney’s shortlist, is back home with her old flame helping him sort out a major event that benefits mi
litary and first responders. Lure them in with a planted story featuring you.”
“Nope.” I shake my head and keep working.
“Make it juicy, like gossip and business rolled into one. Cable news programs will eat it up and be blowing up my phone to get you on their shows. All of that equals more money for Hot Boxer Shorts.”
“His name is Sylas,” I correct.
“Right. Anyway, it’s a good plan. We should do it. That’s my vote,” Bethany says nodding her head and folding her thin arms over her chest. I narrow my eyes at her and bite the inside of my cheek as I mull it over. Glancing at Sylas sitting across from me at his dining table I raise a brow, inviting him to contribute an opinion on this scheme.
“Can’t hurt, right?” He shrugs his muscular shoulders.
I don’t know that what she’s saying is true at all. People either despise me or pretend to like me only long enough to seek my assistance in some capacity. Using me as bait won’t just draw in those interested in networking with me, it will also draw in every bloodthirsty asshole I’ve ever burned down. Still… planting news pieces as a way to garner more attention is no novel trick. It’s manipulation tool used all the time by politicians and celebrities and all varieties of public figures. I don’t exactly consider myself one of those public figures. I’m the private figure behind the public figure, the man behind the curtain. I’m not sure how I feel about having said curtain pulled back, but I know I would do anything to help Sylas make his nonprofit the very best it can be.
“Fine,” I say, resigned.
“Yes!” Bethany hisses through her teeth as she fist pumps.
“Come up with a piece to plant. Send it to me first then spread it like the clap at a frat party.” I hang up on Bethany and close the lid of my laptop and inhale deeply, rolling my shoulders then tipping my head side to side urging my neck to pop.
“If you don’t want your name linked to BCF or me, I get it,” Sy says quietly.
My smile is small and gentle. “It’s not that Sy. It’s just that I don’t want your amazing work to be tainted by having me name associated with it. Yeah, I could bait the media by dangling myself in front of them and they’d show up but so would every asshole that has a bone to pick with me. If they knew how much you mean to me, they’d happily go after you and your entire life just to get at me.”
It takes a solid ten seconds for my brain to catch up with my mouth and a mentally cringe. Did I just imply how much he means to me?
Yep, Regret nods.
“And how much do I mean to you, Rae?” Sy whispers huskily with his beautiful eyes glowing like liquid chocolate thanks to the setting sun, stabbing spears of light through his kitchen window, bathing us both in brilliant flames of light. Unwilling to open my mouth on the matter, I get to me feet and round the table. Sy scoots back in his dining chair and I climb into his lap, straddling him. My hands go to his cheeks, enjoying the scrape of his rugged, short beard.
Sy’s tantalizing eyes bore into me, drawing my truths out from their hiding place. To afraid I may open my mouth and speak aloud things that I can’t take back, I bring my mouth down on his. Slow and firm, our lips work together expertly. Making out with Sylas was always thrilling but now that he’s a man, so much time has come and gone, our kissing has turned rich and heady like the very best brandy. Potent and lingering, intoxicating and smooth. His lips are just as full as mine, feminine even. I trap his lush bottom lip between my teeth and nip then suck away the hurt. His fingers dig into my ass as he tugs me closer. I can feel his hot, thick, arousal pressing like steel against my tender flesh. Arousal slickens my sex and I feel hungrier for Sylas than I ever have. I roll my hips against his and kiss him deeply, my tongue undulating, sliding against his. Sy groans and brings his hands up to hold my face with such tenderness and reverence. In this moment I feel needed, treasured… loved. That thought causes me to break away from him, our kiss making a popping sound as it ends. Panting I look deep into his eyes. Fucking hell, I’m still so very in love with Sylas Broussard and based on the look he’s giving me… I’d bet he still loves me too.
“Rae,” he breathes as though it’s a prayer, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. “My Rae,” he murmurs nuzzling his cheek into the hollow between my neck and shoulder.
I tip his face back to look at him once more knowing that I shouldn’t want him to love me just as I shouldn’t still love him but I can’t help it. Love is beautiful on Sylas. It has been.
“I need you,” I whisper against his lips with my forehead pressed against his.
“You have me Rae. Always,” he says firmly. Without preamble he lifts us and moves us to his bedroom, depositing me on his soft bed. Sylas plants his feet at the foot of his bed and strips himself while never taking his intense gaze off me. His steel body climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. When he holds out his hand to me I place mine in his and he pulls me forward so I’m sitting up. The clothes I’m wearing including the bra and underwear covering me are gone in quick succession, joining Sy’s clothes on the floor. He crawls between my legs, his haunting stare remaining locked with mine. His approach forces me to lie back.
Leaning down to rest his weight on his elbows, Sy cages me, his big hands holding my face in place. His molten eyes roam over me, and when I think he’s going to open his mouth and say something, he doesn’t, he just keeps his eyes locked with mine as the swollen tip of his cock nudges forward, pushing against my wet center. I part my legs further for him, allowing the inside of my thighs to support his hips. The bulbous tip of his arousal parts my folds as his hips push forward just a little. My muscles inside clench and ache with yearning to have all of him. I buck my hips toward him, a silent plea to give me what I need. Sy’s lips are parted, his regard is tethered, studying my response to him, taking in whatever this is between us. With measured movement Sylas plows into my body, inch by inch. He makes his way into me, the thick shaft of his cock spreading me wide for him as he drives through my flesh until he’s fully seated in my depths. My muscles squeeze him, eliciting a pained groan from him.
The moment I feel his impressive length hit the bottom of me, without words his eyes communicate so much. I feel emotions between us mingle and deepen though neither of us utters a word. This moment with him feels significant and all the feelings I have locked in a closet, spring forward making me feel sensitive and exposed. A knot in my throat blossoms as emotion mists my eyes. A silent tear rolls from the corner of my eye and Sylas frowns slightly then catches my tear on his full lips. He can have it; it’s for him after all. He brings his tear-covered lips to mine, depositing a salty kiss against my mouth as he draws his cock out of me just to drive right back.
Sy drops tender kisses all over my jaw, cheeks and throat as he works both of us toward glorious release. I lock my ankles behind him and hook my arms around him, drawing him as close to me as possible. His heart pounds in his chest against mine, his breathing synchronizes with my own panting.
Since I’ve been here with Sylas, the energy between us has been desperate sexual tension from so much left unresolved and physical attraction denied for a decade. This moment feels different. This feels like leisurely, beautiful, unrushed lovemaking.
His fingers run over my ribs, down to my hip then back up where he tweaks one nipple making my body jerk beneath him. Bowing his head low he captures my other nipple in his mouth, grazing his teeth over the sensitive flesh then sucking deeply. A coil of pressure draws down in my belly, tingling and tightening. My breathing grows choppier, Sy’s brow furrows with deep concentration. We’re both so close. I can feel his girth thicken and harden further still. My body arches into him and I cry out his name as brilliant waves of pleasure rock my body over and over. Sylas growls, tossing his head back, the veins in his neck bulging, his muscular chest flexing as he spills himself inside me. He’s stunning and I soak up every detail, filing it away hoping I’ll always remember it.
The moon is high in the sky and we’re in Sy�
�s kitchen. I’m sitting on his countertop and Sy is leaning against the cabinets in front of me, showcasing his chiseled body wearing nothing but boxers. I’m nibbling on cheese and crackers, facing him, drinking in everything I can and I suspect he’s doing the same thing.
“How did you like college? Did you party like one of those out-of-control sorority girls?” He winks while grinning that lopsided grin. I shrug.
No. I was too broken over you!
“No. I was too busy with school.”
“How was it over there? In Afghanistan?” I’m well aware that asking him to open up about such a personal subject is one, hypocritical of me, and two, likely very difficult for him. Still, I am curious to hear about his experience overseas not just to know more about Sy but to maybe glean some insight about how it likely was for Teddy as well.
Sy takes a deep breath, his chest puffing up fully then deflating. I immediately regret asking him about his deployment to a war zone. “I mean, if you don’t want to discuss it I understand,” I add hurriedly.
“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s good to talk about it. It helps.” He chews up another bite of ham and pops an olive in his mouth then takes a long pull from his beer. “It was bizarre at first. Culture shock, you know? Sometimes it was so boring I felt like my brain would leak out of my ears and find a way home.” He chuckles making his broad chest shake. “But other times it was scary. Pure adrenaline pumping, survive or die scary shit. The enemy and the ally wear the same thing—behave the same way. It’s easy to become paranoid and stay that way.”
“What did you do to keep from going crazy?”
“Hey, who says I’m not?” he asks with a serious expression. My eyes dart to the side unsure of what to say. Sy grins and reaches out to tap his index finger on my nose. “Kidding, Snow. In our downtime we played cards a lot. Dominos if we had them handy. Clean laundry was high on the priority list so we took advantage of any chance we had to get it done.”
