by L. A. Fiore
“Is that you, Greyson?” she teased.
I bit her.
“Ouch.”
Taking her backpack, I dropped my arm around her shoulders and pressed my lips to her ear. “Maybe the eraser room is empty.”
By the way her body responded, she liked that idea.
I was so fucking hard, but I couldn’t taste her enough. I wanted to consume her, wanted to pull her into me and keep her there.
“I never understood the eraser room,” she said between kisses. “I so love the eraser room.”
I chuckled, but I never stopped kissing her. In the very back of my mind a warning sounded. I needed to stop this, needed to put on the brakes, because Alexis wasn’t just any girl. If anyone had the power to change my plans, it was her. I ignored the warning, but I did pull from her because another minute and I wouldn’t have control.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be.”
I couldn’t see her face, but I knew she blushed. “Sorry.”
“I’m not.”
I needed distance to get my cock to calm down, but I couldn’t help touching her face, running my finger along her jaw. It wasn’t just lust I felt, it was the stronger emotion that caused concern. I was leaving, but I was beginning to understand I wouldn’t be doing so whole. This girl had claimed a piece of me.
“My grandfather’s birthday is this weekend. I’m cooking him dinner. Come.” What the hell was I doing? We should be slowing things down, not integrating her more into my life. Clearly, when it came to the idea of stepping away from her I lacked conviction.
“You can cook?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Not surprised just…okay I’m surprised. You’re only eighteen. That’s cool. I can’t even boil water.”
“Have you tried to cook?”
“No.”
“So how do you know you can’t?”
“Because if I say I can’t then I don’t have guilt mooching a meal from the Cantenellis as often as I do.”
“What’s up with that? You guys act more like brothers and sister than friends.”
“They live across the street from me. Their family took me in when I was young, became a sort of surrogate family. I do think of those knuckleheads as brothers.”
I suspected that, but I did like hearing it confirmed. “Will you come? It’s Saturday.”
“I’d love too; I’ll make the cake.”
“I thought you couldn’t cook.”
“I haven’t tried to cook, but I think I can manage a cake.”
“Maybe I should get a back up cake, just in case.”
“Fiend.”
“We should probably get to class.”
“I guess, but I want it noted that I don’t want to go to class.”
“Noted.”
I checked if the coast was clear, but the eraser room had been chosen well, located in a section of the school that saw very little foot traffic. We headed for her homeroom; passing her locker I remembered the scene with that bitch Debbie, which had me asking, “What’s up with Debbie? Why is she such a bitch to you?”
“I don’t really know. I met her through the twins and for several years we were close, but in middle school she started to mature, boys noticed. By the eighth grade she had morphed into the Debbie you see now. She stopped hanging out with us and started going out of her way to be a bitch.”
I had no doubt Debbie was jealous. She didn’t compare to Alexis and never would. She grinned then added, “It’s possible she’s pissed that you are spending time with me not her.”
I couldn’t help the shudder, but what a thought. My balls shriveled up.
Alexis stopped walking; I glanced back at her. “You don’t find her attractive? I mean, sure she’s a bitch, but look at her.”
“She looks like a plastic surgeon got carried away.”
Her jaw actually dropped. She was fucking adorable. “But she’s got those…” She gestured with her hands.
“They’re ridiculous.”
Disbelief swept her expression. “Are you serious? I thought for guys the bigger the better.”
“Maybe some guys, but me, I prefer long and lean.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding.”
I moved right into her, lowered my head and whispered, “I like long legs that end in the gentle swell of hips, the curve of a woman’s back…” I ran my hand over the small of her back. “Drives me nuts. As far as…” Our eyes meet and held. “Bigger is not better. Enough to fill my palm, pale pink, tight…”
She slammed her hand over my mouth. “Please stop or I’m not responsible for what happens.”
Her cheeks were flush with arousal. She wasn’t the only one. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her down the hall before we backtracked to the eraser room. Feeling smug, I said, “Glad we cleared that up.”
Alexis
“It’s crooked.” It was more than crooked. It was an abomination and I had such high hopes. I picked up a few magazines at the market when I bought the ingredients. I had thought to create a tiered wonder. How hard could it be? Famous last words. Instead of a white-tiered confection, it looked more like what became of a cake at a one-year-old’s birthday party. We were in Greyson’s granddad’s car.
“Tastes good though.”
“I can’t understand how you could have seen this and thought oh, I wonder what that tastes like? Some things are best staying a mystery.”
He glanced over at me. “But you’re bringing it.”
“I know. I couldn’t leave it at home. It’s not the cake’s fault that I’m Dr. Frankenstein. The poor unsuspecting flour and sugar, those eggs and butter, they deserved a better fate than this, but I want your granddad to know I tried, even if my attempt looks like roadkill with icing.”
He laughed, a raucous laugh, but his eyes warmed when he looked over again. “It’s the thought that counts.”
I pointed at him. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m trying to say in the most round about way.”
He pulled up a long drive. “So this is where you live. I almost hunted you down after the first time you drove me home.” Why did I tell him that?
He parked and shut off the engine. “Why didn’t you?”
The cat was out of the bag now about my latent stalker tendencies. “It felt stalkerish.”
He had a reaction to that, but I couldn’t for the life of me read him. “What?”
“I wouldn’t have thought you were being stalkerish.”
“We’ll get back to that. What was that look for? Did someone hunt you down?”
“Stephanie. She brought me brownies.”
I almost dropped the cake, which might have improved its appearance. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, she’s been here at least one other time but didn’t knock. Granddad saw her.”
“Was she in a tree across the street with binoculars?”
He grinned. “I hope not.”
“I get it. I mean had things gone differently with us, I might have driven by your house a few times hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”
He shifted so he was facing me. “Really?”
“You have to know you’re ridiculously handsome, that face and hair, your eyes and body.” Shut up, Alexis.
Now he was grinning and why not? I had verbal diarrhea. “You don’t say.”
I couldn’t believe I was being so bold, but my mouth opened and more came out. “What Stephanie doesn’t know is there is more to you than pretty packaging.”
“Are you purposely trying to drive me crazy?” he asked.
“Yes, payback for sneaking a taste of the cake.”
He muttered before he climbed from the car, “If that’s payback, I’m going to eat the whole fucking thing.”
He took the cake, and even humming with sexual tension, my attention was on his house. It was a beautiful Victorian, painted in a dove gray with lots of creamy white gingerbread trim and palladium windows. The back of the house overl
ooked the Pacific Ocean.
“What a wonderful place.”
“Yeah, I love that view. It’s forever changing.”
The artist in him would see that.
“I would love a house like this,” I confessed.
“I thought you wanted the hustle and bustle of the city.”
“Yeah, but when I settle down with a family I’d love a place just like this one.”
He seemed to have a thought on that, but offered nothing. He walked me to the door that opened to an incredible smell. His grandfather was behind the island chopping vegetables, and damn but talk about family resemblance. He was older, obviously, but he had the same bone structure, same eyes, same build. I was looking at Greyson in forty years. He’d still be hot.
“Alexis, this is my grandfather, Callum.”
He walked around the kitchen island and took my hand. I blurted out, “I can’t believe how much Greyson looks like you.”
He smiled and brought my hand to his lips, just like his grandson had done to Tara and Mandy. “It’s very nice to meet you.” He glanced over at the cake. “Is that for me?”
“It doesn’t look great, but Greyson assures me it tastes good.”
“A homemade cake. I haven’t had one of those in far too long. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“Greyson made shepherd’s pie. I hope that’s okay.”
“Smells amazing.”
“I’ll finish the salad. Why don’t you two go wash up.”
Greyson grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall. We didn’t go to the bathroom; he pulled me into his bedroom. My back hit the door as soon as he closed it. He kissed my neck. I tilted my head to give him better access. “You taste so good.” His tongue moved down my neck and along my shoulder.
My blood ignited. “Kiss me, Greyson.”
He did, his lips brushing back and forth before his tongue pushed into my mouth, tasting me with a thoroughness that left me weak. I wanted him. I wanted him to be my first. I wanted that so badly. I didn’t understand all the emotions he pulled from me, how hot he made me, how my body ached in so many ways, but I knew I wanted him to be my first.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he said as he dragged his lips to my ear, tracing it with his tongue before taking a little bite.
I fisted his shirt and drew him closer.
He pulled his hand through my hair. “I want you, Alexis.”
My eyes went wide. “Not now.”
He didn’t react at first and then he laughed out loud. “No, not now.”
“Because I could be tempted.”
His smile died as the sexiest look swept his face. “Don’t say that or I’m locking this door.”
“Your granddad?”
“Will be celebrating his birthday alone.”
At least he’d have cake.
He kissed me hard on the mouth. “You go first. I need to…”
My gaze drifted down to his hard-on and I felt powerful being able to bring this boy to that. “Sorry.”
“I’m not.”
“I’ll see you out there.”
“A little less of me, aye.” He sounded adorably disgruntled.
I giggled then slipped out of his room.
Dinner had been delicious. Greyson wasn’t kidding when he said he knew how to cook. Throughout dinner, I marveled at how much alike Greyson and his grandfather were and not just their physical appearance, but their personalities, humor and mannerisms. And their accents, that beautiful lilt had images of Ireland rolling through my mind, at least the Ireland I knew from pictures. I understood Greyson’s passion that brought him to the States, the loss of his parents, and still I couldn’t imagine staying away from what I saw as paradise.
“Greyson mentioned you live in a castle.”
Callum leaned back in his chair, his expression turning a bit faraway. “Taisce Manor.” He looked nostalgic before he added, “It’s one of the oldest castles in Ireland.”
I loved hearing the pride they had in their home, was a little envious too. “Greyson mentioned that. It sounds wonderful.”
“One day you’ll have to come for a visit. The landscape is like nothing you’ve ever seen.”
An ache formed. The invitation was sincere, but it was also a fairy tale.
“Greyson tells me you are a writer. Is that what you hope to do, write professionally?”
“First step is to study creative writing at NYU and then yes, I’d love to write for a living, novels, plays, and screenplays. I’d like to try my hand at all of them.”
“Ireland is a land filled with stories just waiting to be written. In fact, our family has its own legend.”
My elbows dropped on the table. Bad manners, but how fascinating. “Really?”
“Aye. ’Tis believed that a goddess disguised as a mortal woman visited the very first Ratcliffe, Aenfinn himself. They loved as man and woman but she was not of his world and was forced to return to her own. She couldn’t leave without giving him something to remember her by and so it is told that she conjured a diamond through magic, binding it with love. The stone is called Mo Chuisle, My Pulse. Years later, Aenfinn eventually married to continue his bloodline, but he never parted with the stone. He had it embedded into his great sword, a sword he was never without.”
What a beautiful and sad story. “Do you believe the legend?”
Callum didn’t hesitate to answer. “His goddess’ sacred place is believed to be in our backyard. In the portrait gallery, Aenfinn’s portrait depicts the stone in his sword. It appears later in a broach worn by a couple of Ratcliffe women.”
It was a fascinating story, more so because Callum believed it. A reasonable and educated man believed it. I did too. “Where’s the stone now?”
“It was lost several generations back, after a fire. Some of the household books were lost too, so trying to piece together what became of it has been very difficult. I’ve often thought I’d like to write it down, but I don’t have skill to do the story justice.” His eyes met mine before he offered, “Would you be interested in writing the story? Documenting it for future generations so the story isn’t lost. ”
I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly, offering something so significant to me. He hardly knew me. And yet I wanted to write the story because it would be a link to Greyson, to his family, his heritage. When he left, I’d still have a part of him.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather an established writer doing it?”
Callum’s focus shifted to Greyson, I followed his gaze. Tenderness looked back at me.
“I think you’re the right person for the job. Don’t you, Greyson?”
“Absolutely.”
“I can have copies of what records remain shipped here.”
“Thank you. I would love to, but seriously are you sure you wouldn’t rather someone with more experience?”
“Why don’t you review the files and you tell me if you’d be interested?” Callum suggested.
“I’d like that.”
Greyson brought me home. We stood at my front door, unwilling to say good night. He tasted so good, my fingers tangling into his hair to pull him closer. “I had a really good time tonight,” I said in between kisses.
“I’m glad you came. Grandfather likes you.”
“Yeah?”
He nipped on my bottom lip. “Definitely.”
“I am very flattered with Callum’s offer to write the book for your family, but I’ll understand totally if you get someone else to do it. That’s a big deal and it should be done right.”
“You don’t think you could write the story?”
“I do, but…”
“You know us. Anyone we hired wouldn’t. Besides, the story is for the family. We’re not looking to make a coffee table book, we just don’t want the story to be lost.” He pulled me closer. “One day you’ll have works in the Library of Congress, but you’ll also have a work handed down to future Ratcliffes. Some child in 2800 will read your
words.”
It was a humbling thought. “It’ll take a while. Years if not longer with school and college.”
“It’s waited almost seven hundred years, it can wait a few more.
“That was incredible. Thank you.” It was Friday night dinner at the Atzers. I liked seeing Greyson at Paige’s table, liked that he was part of us now.
“We’re glad you could join us, Greyson,” Paige said.
Tara and Mandy had been itchy all through dinner. The expression ants in your pants fit them perfectly. As soon as Grant started clearing the table, Tara jumped up from her chair.
“I have to show you my room.” Tara didn’t wait for a reply, grabbing Greyson’s hand and dragging him down the hall.
“My room next,” Mandy called and ran after them.
“You cooked. I’ll clean,” Grant offered.
“You don’t have to twist my arm,” Paige teased. Grant kissed her temple. “You two go relax outside. I’ll be out in a minute.”
We settled on the deck. It was cooler; maybe Grant would light the fire pit.
“I like Greyson,” Paige said.
“Me too.”
“I see the way you look at each other. It reminds me of Grant and me.”
“I really like him, Paige. A part of me worries about how much I like him. He is leaving at the end of the school year and he won’t be staying any place long enough to settle.”
“June is quite a while away, but I understand. If you feel how you do now, what happens then?”
“Exactly.”
“From what I’ve seen, I think it will be worth the heartache later.”
Our eyes met. “Me too.” I dropped my voice. “I want to have sex with him.”
“I wondered. Do we need to have the talk?”
She was being serious. I loved that she cared. “No.”
“I have condoms. Take some before you leave.”
“I don’t feel uncomfortable having this conversation. I thought I would.”
“It means you’re ready. It may not be the moment you’re expecting the first time, but believe me it does get better.”
“Just being with him will make it the moment I’m expecting.”
Paige smiled. “I felt that way too.”
