Fly Boy: A Friends to Lovers Standalone Romance (Tobin Tribe Book 2)

by Caitlyn Coakley

  “Where’s Pete?” he asked.

  “With your mom. She sent over a pan of chocolate frosted cream cheese brownies. I stopped for milk and ice cream. Can I get you some?”

  “I wouldn’t be a good host if I let you serve me. I’ll get it. Why don’t you go wait for me in the bedroom?”

  The twinkle in his eye was nearly demonic. What was he up to? Megan fairly skipped into his bedroom and stripped in record time, arranging herself seductively on his king-size bed.

  Moments later, BJ set a glass of milk, a dish of ice cream, and a large slice of brownie on the nightstand. He stripped and joined her.

  What did he think he was going to do with the spoonful of ice cream he was swirling around in his mouth?

  She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  The heat of his breath clashed with his icy tongue as he lapped at her pebbled nipple. The warring sensations drove her to the brink of ecstasy as he dribbled partially melted ice cream down her body and licked a trail to her navel.

  “Talk about a sweet sensation,” she moaned.

  His lips vibrated across her stomach. “B-b-baby...you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  Did he have a song for every occasion? Human jukebox indeed.

  He helped himself to another spoonful of ice cream but didn’t take the time to warm it before assaulting her clit. The sudden chill momentarily pulled her out of her euphoria. Aggressively, he licked and nibbled; the sudden cold yielded to a delicious warmth that incrementally built into a raging inferno.

  She grasped his hair as the fire threatened to engulf her.

  “Yeah, baby, pull it.”

  Involuntarily, she complied as blessed release engulfed her. Wave after wave of pleasure swamped her as his magical mouth refused to give up its prize. She let go of his hair to ride out her orgasmic squall.

  “It might be...ahem...difficult to explain my erection the next time I eat ice cream. But you’ll know I’m reliving this moment,” he mumbled into her still-sensitive clit.

  “Can you hear me rolling my eyes, Mr. Comedian?” He probably could. “Do I get some of that supercharged ice cream?” she asked.

  He rose to his knees and dipped the spoon into the bowl by the side of the bed, letting it hover inches from her lips. “A little. Certain parts of me don’t react well to cold, so unless you want this over before it starts, promise me you’ll play nice?”

  She could feel the mischief painting her features.

  “Hmmm...if you drop the n from nice, you get ice. No starts with n...coincidence? I think not. I guess you’re going to have to trust me,” she teased.

  Did she trust him? Of course, she did. How could you possibly love someone you didn’t trust? The two were inextricably bound. Like they were.

  She took advantage of his momentary distraction and gobbled the ice cream before he could withdraw the spoon.

  He tossed the spoon over his shoulder. “I’ve also taken self-defense classes.” He attacked her lips, generating enough heat to melt the ice cream that was already halfway to her stomach.

  * * *

  Something soft and gooey smacked him in the chest. Damn, he needed to learn to kiss with his eyes open. He literally did not see that coming. The brownie he’d been looking forward to licking off her butt cheeks decorated his chest and stomach. “Are you going to share some of that?”

  Not that it mattered. He was pretty sure he was going to like what she had in mind when she painted the last of the treat down his length and around his balls. There could only be one way she was planning to clean him off, and the anticipation was killing him.

  “You can lick what’s left on my fingers. Who knows? It might give me some ideas.”

  Oh, he was going to give her a few ideas. Using the flat of his tongue, he licked from her wrist to the tip of her middle finger. Now, he wouldn’t be able to shoot his brothers the bird without remembering the way she’d closed her eyes and whimpered. He made a note to flip those clowns off a lot more in the future because he wanted to relive this moment again and again.

  Bit by bit, he licked and sucked the last of the chocolate from her hand and fingers. “I think it’s my turn.”

  “Close your eyes. Let me surprise you.”

  He hadn’t been this eager to do what a woman asked since his first time. That encounter had changed his life forever, but he had no doubt what was coming next would top that a hundred-fold. A thousand-fold.

  She pushed him to the mattress and straddled him. Leaning down, she let her breasts brush against him as she cleaned his nipples then turned her attention to the trail of sugary goodness.

  Damn, he wasn’t going to last another minute. How did you divide fractions? Oh, yeah, invert and multiply.

  Invert.

  That made him think of getting her under him. The diversionary tactic that had worked so well in the past failed him. Okay, he could conjugate some Latin verbs. Amō, amās, amat, amāmus, amātis, amant. He’d picked the right verb. He did love her. A line from a long-forgotten TV show bombarded him. Resistance was indeed futile, and he didn’t care. He gave himself completely over to her and let her take him to ecstasy.

  “Damn it, woman, I saw stars. And a few planets. I’m never going to be able to look at another brownie without feeling your tongue lapping at me.”

  “Brownies have always been little more than a convenient way to get frosting into my mouth. I think I like this way better. But I don’t think you’ll ever get your sheets clean. Imagine what your housekeeper will think,” she joked.

  Man, his humor must be contagious, and that was one more reason why they fit so well. “She’ll never see them because I plan to have this part framed.” He traced the perfect imprint of her ass.

  “A brown butt print? Your brothers will love that. I don’t have to imagine what they will have to say.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll call it Cul de Chocolat because, you know, everything sounds classier in French. Besides, we spent hours learning how to swear in different languages. They’ll understand.” They’d better because there was no way he was going to allow those culs to disrespect his woman.

  “So you’re saying my posterior will be preserved for posterity?”

  Posterity? As in future generations? Yeah, he could do that. Suddenly, there was nothing he wanted more.

  CHAPTER 52

  “Hi honey, I’m home!”

  Megan was sure she’d never get tired of hearing those words. She rushed to greet BJ at the door but had to wait her turn. Pete had gotten there first. BJ held Pete in the crook of one arm and held out the other to pull her toward him.

  “This is a fine thing; I have to stand in line to kiss my own boyfriend!”

  “He was watching out the window when I got home like I was the most important thing in his little life.” BJ teased. He set Pete on the floor and pulled Megan closer.

  The heat of his kiss jolted through her. She was sure she’d never tire of this either. She’d never known BJ to be at a loss for words, definitely not. He wasn’t the strong silent type. Strong? Yes. Silent? Never. But as articulate as he was, his kisses spoke volumes above his words. His kisses promised, and the rest of him delivered.

  Megan glanced at the clock on the stove and did some mental math. Dinner would be finished by 6:15, bath time and stories for Pete, tucked in by 7:30. In less than two hours, they would have the rest of the night for themselves.

  And she had plans.

  BJ helped Pete wash up for dinner while Megan put the meal on the table. The nightly ritual the little tyke called “whoa boat” had become a special bonding time for her two men. Megan smiled as his little voice struggled with some of the lyrics and invented others. “Gently down the stream” sounded suspiciously like “and then you get to scream.” She had recorded it one night and stored it securely in her cloud account.

  Dinner was maple roasted chicken with acorn squash and a baked potato. “It smells great, but you’re trying to trick me into eating vegetables
again,” he teased.

  She shot him a stern look.

  He sobered. “That expression seems oddly familiar. Are you taking lessons from my mother?”

  “Busted. You have to try at least one bite of the squash or no dessert for you. I made lemon meringue pie.”

  “Bribery will get you everywhere!” BJ picked the smallest piece of squash he could find and slowly cut it into four pieces. Then he chose the smallest of the four pieces, swirled it around in the maple sauce, and slowly raised the fork to his mouth. He made a silly face, plugged his nose, then forced the fork into his mouth. He chewed very slowly.

  Megan waited.

  “Wow, this isn’t bad.” He took another bite. “In fact, it’s pretty good. You’re a magician!”

  Megan shook her head and smiled. “Thank you. You’ve been a very brave little man, and I’m proud of you. Seriously, we have to get Pete to eat his vegetables, and it won’t help if he sees you aren’t eating yours. He adores you and copies your every move.”

  BJ made a big deal out of rolling his eyes. “Oh, okay. For Pete’s sake, I’ll eat the vile issues of the earth. As long as you put these yummy sauces on them, I think I can tolerate a few bites.”

  He made a mad face that didn’t fool her for a second.

  “When the he...ck did I start using words like yummy?”

  Pete pounded his little spoon on the tray of his highchair. “Yummy!”

  “Oh yeah, that’s when...Yummy! Yummy! Yummy!” BJ’s deep voice and Pete’s baby voice filled the room until BJ broke into a song she vaguely remembered about love in the tummy. He truly was a human jukebox. She pulled out her phone and captured another BJ and Pete moment.

  And that was something else she would never tire of.

  * * *

  It was BJ’s turn to clear the table while Megan gave Pete his bath and got him ready for bed. They had settled into a routine that BJ would have once considered boring and dull and to be avoided at all costs.

  But now, it felt right. It was comfortable. He found himself looking forward to it as he closed up the hangar for the night and headed home. Home. A Simon and Garfunkel song popped into his head.

  Where my love lies waiting silently for me.

  Except a big part of his love wasn’t so silent. He stood at the window wearing a huge smile and clapping his little hands, no doubt babbling happily, every time BJ pulled into the driveway. And the rest of his love worked to make sure he felt nurtured. He was a lucky man, and he knew it. He couldn’t put into words the peace and joy loving Megan and Pete gave him.

  There was one piece missing, but it wouldn’t be missing for long.

  Finally, Pete was out for the night. “I don’t know how many more times I can read Good Night Moon,” BJ teased. But they both knew he could, and would, read it as many times as he had to. As long as Pete eventually went to sleep and they had the rest of the evening to themselves.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” Megan asked.

  BJ didn’t hesitate. “Not tonight. I think I’d rather get drunk on you. Come here, lady.”

  Megan did hesitate.

  “What?”

  “Well,” she paused as if gathering her courage. “I was thinking that it’s time to change bedrooms.”

  Megan and BJ had shared the largest of the two guest bedrooms that weren’t part of the master suite. That was where Smitty’s grandmother had slept with Old Man Kerrigan. If they had ever done much actual sleeping there.

  “After I cleaned out the drawers and closets in Grandma Irene’s room, I didn’t go back except to dust and vacuum. It creeped me out, so I always got out as quickly as I could. But I had a new mattress delivered today. If you can face your demons, I can face mine.”

  Now if that didn’t put some spring into his...uh...step. “I’ve been waiting for this.” He turned to the sound system, plugged in his phone, grabbed her hands, and dragged her into the master suite. They danced until the lyrics kicked in, and BJ took his cue, crooning the theme from a supernatural movie from the 1980’s. She hadn’t much cared for the movie the first time around, and the newest incarnation that had come out a while back didn’t interest her much, but after this performance, she might have to rethink that position.

  The whole thing was so silly, they danced around the room, practically shouting out the movie’s name at the appropriate time. He ripped the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around himself. He chased her around the room with a lamest “boo” he could muster. She laughed and let him catch her. At the end of the song, she ripped off his sheet as they collapsed onto the bed in a fit of giggles.

  “There,” BJ assured her, “ghosts busted. The dead are forever banished. Time for us to fill this room with life.”

  CHAPTER 53

  Megan picked up a tiny onesie decorated with a bright red firetruck that Pete had worn home from the hospital. “I can’t believe how tiny he was.” She folded it, laid it on top of the other things, then sealed the box with packing tape. She labeled the side with a fat black marker and pushed it across the bed with the rest of the boxes. “That’s the last of it.”

  She looked around the room at the mementos of Pete’s babyhood—his first car seat, the Snuggler where she’d bathed him, his stroller—all covered in shrink wrap and ready for storage to be used by a baby brother or sister. Maybe. Someday. She hoped.

  BJ sat cross-legged on the floor disassembling Pete’s crib. “Riley tells a great story about how Aunt Sandy and Mom almost came to blows over this Boo Boo Choo Choo nursery set. It’s exactly like the one all of us had growing up. I loved it and cried for days when they promoted me to a big boy bed and put Quinn in my beloved crib.”

  Megan coughed. “So... how is Aunt Sandy doing?”

  “Thanks for asking. I know she’s not your favorite person, but she’s family. If she hadn’t checked herself into rehab, the doctors might not have caught the problem as soon as they did. So far, the liver transplant is holding. She has a rough road ahead of her, but she plans to be back on the bench after the first of the year to finish her final term. The hardest part for her is giving up the bottle. She always could drink all of us under the table.”

  “I don’t hate her. I’ve had to listen to Ethan vent about her for so many years, it’s not easy shifting gears. Give me time. After all, I didn’t much like you at first,” she teased.

  “For about a minute and a half.” He reached out to cup her breasts.

  She pushed his hand away. “Stop now or we’ll never get this mess cleaned up before Pete’s bedtime.”

  He saluted her. “Yes, Boss Lady!” He started wrapping the crib pieces in shrink wrap. “I can’t wait to see his reaction to the helicopter bed we got him. I doubt he’ll sleep for a week. How do you want me to arrange all of this stuff in the attic?”

  She cringed. “I don’t care. It might be teeming with spiders, so I’ve never been up there. For all I know, it might already be full.”

  He chuckled. “Now you sound like Riley with the spider thing. I don’t expect much from him because he’s such a wimp, but you’ve pushed out a human being. I can’t believe you’re afraid of tiny little spiders.”

  “Hey, I didn’t make fun of your fear of basements. I could have a deep-seated childhood trauma of my own.”

  BJ stood and pulled her into his arms again. “That’s true. I’ll protect you from those vicious arachnids.” He planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “And everything else you’re afraid of.”

  She snuggled into his arms to drink in his strength and security. “Let’s get the boxes off the bed and into the attic before we...”

  He interrupted her with a kiss. “Just something to think about while I battle for your honor.” He kissed her again. “You know, in case I perish in the effort.” He pulled down the access stairs and disappeared into the ceiling.

  Good God, I love this man. “What’s up there?”

  “More than a few cobwebs. I’ll get an exterminator to spray up here. I don’t want
little spider babies invading the bedroom. Other than that, a dusty box. Let me bring it down to get it out of the way, then I’ll load up the rest.”

  In no time, BJ lugged the relatively light box down from the attic and arranged the baby things in its place. He descended the stairs for the last time and eased the stairs back into the closet ceiling. “What do we have?”

  Megan wiped the top of the box with an old rag and shrugged. “It has the number twelve on it. Grandma Irene had boxes of files on everyone. She’d moved them into her office at Kerrigan Financial before she died. Looks like she missed this one.”

  “Yeah, I remember. The old bat was blackmailing the Kerrigan Financial board members so she could take control of the company. And she damned near succeeded until mighty Ethan swooped in to save the day.”

  Megan’s feminist pride prickled. Sure, she loved her brother, but she had to give her sister-in-law her due. “Stephanie could have beaten them on her own.”

  “Of course, she could have, the way you have handled everything life has thrown at you. But isn’t it nice to know you don’t have to anymore? As long as we have each other, nothing is impossible.”

  BJ pulled a bright yellow tool out of his pocket, flicked a button, and sliced the tape with the knife that sprung from the device.

  “You carry a switchblade?” Megan asked. It felt like she was accusing him of being a serial killer.

  BJ folded the tool back into its housing and shoved everything back into his pocket. “It’s not a switchblade. It’s called a rescue tool. I always carry it, especially when I’m flying. It has a glass breaker, seatbelt cutter, and a bunch of other things I might need in the event of an emergency.”

  “Keep it away from Pete.”

  “I will. I doubt he has the strength to open it, but I promise I’ll be careful with it around him.”

  “What’s in there?” she asked.

  He opened the box and drew out a photo. “Huh, a photo of Uncle EJ.” He opened the first of two business-sized envelopes on the top of the box. “I say we build a fire in the fireplace and...holy shit...” he stared up at Megan. “Are you sure your middle name is Mystery? Could it be Amanda?”