And again when he offered to read Jamie a bedtime story. I stood in the door watching as the two of them lay on the twin bed, snuggled up in obvious contentment.
Wyatt’s deep voice provided a new quality to the story-time routine that seemed to have Jamie entranced.
I couldn’t really blame him.
Wyatt’s changing tones and smooth transitions hypnotized me as well.
As did the sliver of skin peeking at me along his hip bone. His shirt had inched up just enough to provide a glimpse of the goods, and my eyes refused to ignore it.
Mmm.
I tried to remind myself that he slept with my sister, but his comments about not remembering any of it hindered my ability to feel disgusted by that thought. If anything, my disgust was at her for drugging him.
Assuming he’d told me the truth.
Why would he lie?
I spent hours last night debating the veracity of his words and couldn’t find a single reason for him to make up such a story. His demeanor had been flat but genuine. And it explained the hatred I picked up from him whenever he mentioned Jean.
What did you do to him? I wondered, not for the first time. And why didn’t you tell me?
“Good night, Jamie,” Wyatt whispered as he slid out of bed.
Jamie didn’t reply. He’d fallen asleep while listening to the story, and his peaceful expression warmed my heart. It seemed to match the one his father wore as he stepped into the hallway.
Like father, like son.
My goal of proving Wyatt to be an unfit parent seemed to be hanging by a loose thread. I couldn’t deny how good he was with him, though we were only on day two. Everything could change after a week, or even a month.
He softly closed the door and turned to lean back against it. He didn’t say anything, just stared down at me with an unreadable expression, waiting.
“Thank you.” The words sort of tumbled out without my permission, and I wasn’t quite sure what they meant, but they sounded right.
He grinned. “If anyone owes a debt of gratitude, it’s me. To you.”
I swallowed as he stepped into my personal space. His shirt brushed mine, causing me to retreat until my back hit the wall. He rested his forearm over my head and captured my gaze with his smoldering irises.
“Do I make you nervous, Avery?”
“N-no.”
His eyes dropped to my lips. “No?”
I shook my head because my mouth refused to voice the word again.
“Then I’m not doing my job right,” he murmured, moving even closer. His arm remained above my head while his opposite hand caught my hip, holding me in place. “How about now?”
My pulse raced, but still, I shook my head. Nervous wasn’t the word I’d use to describe the way he made me feel.
Hot. Excited. Terrified. All far better adjectives.
“Mmm. I think you’re lying, Avery.” He skimmed his nose along my cheekbone, and my breath halted. “You’re shaking.” He continued his path down my neck and up to my ear. “Perhaps aroused is the better term.”
I wanted to call him presumptuous or cocky, but the words stuck in my throat. My thighs clenched—accepting his summarization without preamble—while my brain fought for reason. I shouldn’t be allowing this… or enjoying it.
His thumb slipped beneath my shirt to caress the skin just above my jeans near my hip. Electricity zipped through my veins at the soft touch, stirring an erratic rhythm inside my chest.
More, my body demanded.
He chuckled. “More, hmm? What did you have in mind?”
Shit. I must have said that out loud. “I… This…” Words, Avery. Use them.
But I had nothing.
I shouldn’t want him, but I did. Maybe because I hadn’t been with a man in far too long. A little adult time was extremely overdue.
His mouth skimmed mine, melting my insides. I swore he grinned, as if sensing my crumbling resolve.
It felt forbidden. Wrong. Scandalous.
I barely know him.
Who cares?
“You’re not ready,” he whispered. “But I’m not known for my patience.”
His tongue parted my lips in an unforgiving kiss that stole my breath. He didn’t wait for me to accommodate, just took what he wanted without remorse. It was domineering, hard, and exactly what I craved.
He kissed me deeply, exploring every inch of my mouth.
Confidence poured out of him. He knew how to move his tongue and proceeded to prove it with a severity that left me quivering against him.
Flames danced along my skin, shooting sensations through every inch of my being.
Ready or not, I would have given in to whatever sexual act he desired in this moment.
Because wow.
I wasn’t inexperienced, but he left me feeling like a woman receiving her first kiss. He had moves I didn’t know existed.
My panties soaked straight through under his assault, preparing my body for whatever he had in mind. I’d take whatever he offered, however he offered it.
His thumb continued to stroke my hip while his other arm remained above me. This was all about his mouth and retraining my tongue to meet his preferences.
He broke the kiss as suddenly as it had started and pressed his forehead to mine. I panted against him, shaking with need and the desire for so much more. When I angled my face to resume our kiss, he pulled away to study me with his grinning eyes.
“I’m going to retire to my room early. If you want to join me, you’re welcome to, but give yourself ten minutes to decide first.” He pushed off the wall and opened the door beside me. “Consider it an open invitation.”
Wyatt left me gasping for air in the hallway.
Holy shit.
I closed my eyes and focused on remembering how to breathe. Slowly, sanity returned, reminding me of all the reasons why stepping into his room was a bad idea.
Jamie.
Jean.
It would make everything more awkward.
Wyatt’s a notorious playboy who only wants sex.
But we are consenting adults, and I could use a few decent orgasms in my life.
Not from him. He could take Jamie from you in a heartbeat.
This could all be a test.
Would he do that?
I barely knew him. He could be capable of anything. Another reason not to sleep with him.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and slid to the ground with my knees tucked to my chest.
God, that kiss… It served as an introduction to his methods and skill.
He’d blown my mind, and I had no doubt that would translate in bed. But was a night of pleasure truly worth it? With a stranger who had the ability to relocate Jamie and keep me from seeing him?
No.
I couldn’t risk that. Not for anything. No matter how good it might feel.
Jamie meant so much more to me than that.
Wyatt could so easily have ulterior motives. Not that he needed them in order to leave with his son.
I pressed my forehead to my knees, conflicted and confused. Sleeping with him tonight couldn’t happen. I needed to learn more about him, beyond the research from the other night.
I wanted to know the real Wyatt Mershano, not the one defined by the tabloids. But the man who cuddled Jamie and read to him with his heart in his eyes.
The one who offered to help me around the house, who studied me with an intensity denoting intelligence and astuteness, and who kissed me as if my body depended on him for survival.
An evening in his bed wouldn’t be enough. I wanted all or nothing.
“Good night,” I whispered to his door as I pulled myself off the floor to head toward my room. His bed offered mind-blowing orgasms, while mine offered safe ones.
I’d just have to rely on the safe option for tonight.
11
Wyatt
God, I loved power tools.
Avery owned only the bare minimum, a fault I corrected this morn
ing after running to the hardware store to gather some supplies. Her garage appeared brand new, thanks to my handy touch.
All the gardening items were in their own section on the wall. The tools, including the new ones, also had their own section. And everything else was partitioned off appropriately, including Jamie’s two little outdoor riding toys.
They appeared to be a bit small for him, suggesting they were purchased last year. I’d have to rectify that this week, but first, I had something else in mind. And now that my work in the garage was complete, I could ask Jamie about it.
I grabbed my shirt from the floor and wandered into the house for a much-needed bottle of water. Avery stood at the sink in a pair of jeans that firmly hugged her ass and a tank top. The woman had a body built for a man’s touch, yet she didn’t show it off like most females I knew. I liked that about her.
Her back was to the entrance of the kitchen, allowing me to sneak up behind her. She’d been avoiding me all day after our kiss in the hallway. I knew she wouldn’t join me in bed last night. She wasn’t ready, and I could respect that.
But that didn’t mean I was going to make this easy for her.
She shut off the water and turned right into my torso.
“Shit!” she yelled, stumbling.
I caught her hips to hold her upright and cocked my head to the side. “You all right, sweetheart? Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Her nostrils flared, and she slapped my chest. “You scared the shit out of me, you jackass!”
Jamie gasped loudly from the doorway. “Uh-oh! Those are no-no-no words, Auntie A!”
She blushed fiercely at Jamie’s chastising tone while I hid a grin. Definitely my kid.
Avery cleared her throat. “I know, but sometimes adults use them in special circumstances.”
“Your aunt is right.” I pressed my lips to her ear and whispered, “And I can think of plenty adult circumstances for the word fuck.”
Her blush deepened, thrilling me to no end. She could fight it all she wanted, but we both knew she’d end up in my bed. And soon.
She grabbed the sink behind her—likely needing it for balance—as I stepped away to address Jamie. “I may have startled your aunt by accident.” I crouched to be on his level, resting my elbows on my thighs. “Do you like soccer?”
Jamie considered, his little brow puckering. “I think so.”
That meant he wasn’t sure, but I’d change that. “It’s my favorite sport. Would you want to go outside and kick the ball around with me?”
His expression brightened. “Like, right now?”
“Hmm, that depends on your aunt.” The vegetables on the counter suggested she’d just started preparing dinner. “Maybe we can go play out back while Avery finishes cooking?” I left it open as a question directed at her.
“We don’t have a soccer ball,” she said, sounding almost disappointed.
I grinned. “Oh, you do now. As well as a few other things.” I added a stop on my way back from the home improvement store and picked up some items for Jamie, including a soft soccer ball meant for kids his age. “You mind if we kick the ball around out back? Or do you need help with dinner?”
She blinked as if dazed. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ve got this. Just be careful?”
“Always.” I winked at her and stood. “Ready, little man?”
“Yeah!” Jamie did a little jig that had me suppressing a laugh.
I snatched a bottle of water from the fridge and led him to the garage so we could grab the ball from the space I created in the corner for his toys. Jamie’s eyes widened as he took in my improvements; then they grew to the size of dinner plates when he realized the ball wasn’t the only item I had picked up for him.
“Is that a bi—bi-thickle?” he asked, awed.
“Yep, that’s a bi-cy-cle.” I pronounced it slowly for his benefit.
His brow scrunched. “Bi-sssickle.”
“Close enough.”
He smiled, pleased. Then frowned. “But I don’t know how to ride one.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.” I ruffled his hair. “We’ll play soccer first, though.”
He nodded eagerly. “Le’s go!” He started toward the driveway, but I caught his shoulder.
“Shoes,” I reminded him. Mine were still on from working in the garage, but Jamie only had on a pair of socks.
“Ohhhhh.” He skipped back to the door, plopped onto the ground beside the mat, and slid on his Velcro sneakers. Good thing I hadn’t tried to pick up cleats for him. They’d be too big, and he probably wouldn’t know how to lace them up, either.
Jamie hopped up once he finished and announced, “Ready.”
“Follow me.” I led him around the side of the house to the reasonably sized backyard. The lack of fences made it appear larger but also removed any semblance of privacy. The trees were nice, though.
I chose a spot out in the middle and tossed the ball onto the ground. My jeans and tennis shoes weren’t the best choice for this activity, especially with the sun bearing down on us, but I didn’t have a lot of clean clothes left. My shipment from the Mershano Suites in New York City—my preferred residence over all of my inherited properties—would have what I needed. But for today, I’d survive.
“All right, little man. Do you know how to kick the ball?”
“Yup.” His foot connected with the soccer ball and sent it about ten feet. Pretty good for a kid his size.
I jogged over and tapped it right back to him. Then he sent it off to my left. So his directional skills weren’t great, but those could be perfected over time. Especially with the impressive distance he could kick.
We passed the ball several times, each kick to me a little off and forcing me to move. I paused to pick up the water and took a long drink—something I should have done before—and removed my black shirt. Atlanta was too fucking hot for April.
I dropped both items to the ground behind me.
Jamie kicked again and eyed me curiously. “Do you like my Avery?”
I nearly tripped over my feet at his blunt question.
He’s four.
He couldn’t possibly mean that the way it sounded.
“Uh.” I palmed the back of my neck. “Your aunt is nice, yes.”
“So you like her?” His brown eyes shone with curiosity. “I like her lots. She doesn’t have friends. Not like me. I have lots of friends, like at my school.”
That surprised me. “She doesn’t have friends?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Auntie A says I’m all she’s got.” He sounded quite proud about that. “Well, ’cept Momma Jean buuuuut Auntie A says she’s not comin’ back dis time. But I dunno. She sometimes visits. Maybe she’ll bring some angels.” He shrugged as if that all sounded completely normal to him.
I skipped the ball over to him. “So your Momma Jean didn’t come by much, huh?”
“Nah. But dats s’okay. She makes my Avery sad. I don’t like when she’s sad.” He kicked the ball and added, “Please don’t make my Avery sad, ’kay? ’Cause I like her happy.”
Astute kid. He was talking about the other night. “I promise not to be mean to her.”
“Good, cause Momma Jean wasn’t very nice to my Avery sometimes. She liked to yell so looouddd.” He sounded exasperated by it, and I couldn’t blame him one bit. I’d been on the receiving end of her yelling more than once. “But you like my Avery, so you’ll be nice to her. ’Kay?”
Back to that again.
“I’ll be nice to her,” I agreed. Same thing as not being mean to her, but I didn’t feel like explaining that to Jamie. Nor would I add in what ways I wanted to be nice to her. Far too inappropriate for a kid.
“Oookay.” He ran to the side, similar to what I’d been doing each time he kicked, and I booted the ball to him. “I think my Avery likes you, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep.”
“What makes you say that?” I jogged to the side to catch his pass and stopped it with my
shoe.
He shrugged. “She lets you sleep over.”
Let probably wasn’t the right word. “You okay with me staying with you?” I should have asked him that sooner, as in two days ago, but it’d been a whirlwind. Moving in hadn’t been my plan when I arrived in Atlanta on Wednesday morning.
“Yeah, I like it. You play with me.”
“Avery doesn’t play with you?”
Jamie zigzagged a little unsteadily as the ball came toward him. “Avery’s the only one who plays with me.” He eyed the black-and-white-spotted sphere. “Momma Jean never did. She wasn’t very nice. I like you better.”
“I like you, too, little man,” I replied, my throat itching with emotion.
His words both pleased and infuriated me. A son should love his mother, but he spoke of her as if he barely knew her. As if she were a passing friend of Avery’s whom he didn’t really care one way or the other about. No wonder he didn’t mourn her.
Shit.
I like you better. Those words kicked me in the heart.
I wanted him to like me, even though he had every reason to hate me. I’d essentially paid someone else to care for him until now.
Of course, I’d been operating under the assumption it was the right thing to do. I knew from experience how much it hurt to be ripped from a loving mother’s arms. No child should experience that.
I’d also wanted to protect him from the Mershano family life because there was nothing charming about it.
Seeing him grin now as we played a child’s version of soccer made me realize how much I’d missed of his little life.
How stupid I’d been to give all that up to a woman I barely knew.
I thought it was the best decision for Jamie, but clearly, Jean hadn’t upheld her side of the bargain.
Or maybe she had, just in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Jamie didn’t call Avery his mother, but his actions and words showed how much he cared about her. She’d been the one to raise my son in the way I should have from the beginning, and I would have, had I realized Jean’s intentions.
All those calls where she threatened to tell the tabloids suddenly made sense. I’d wondered why a mother would willingly subject her son to that lifestyle, and now I knew. She hadn’t worried one bit how it would impact Jamie, just wanted the bottom line: my payment for her silence.
The Rebel’s Redemption: Mershano Empire Series Page 8
