“Well, duh. I now have multiple people all looking for me trying to kill me. If there was ever a time I wished I really was invisible it is now.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” Weston tilted my chin up, bringing my face level with his. So close I could see the brown and gold flecks in his eyes. My belly did a somersault at his proximity and I wondered again how it was possible I was where I was—in Weston Beil’s bed. Not only that, I was in his lap. I’d slept next to him and done other stuff in that bed besides.
“I see you,” he murmured. “I see all of you.”
I was blinking back tears when his lips touched mine. My mouth opened for him, and Weston’s tongue swept in and off I went—straight to paradise. The kiss was different, he was giving me gentle, giving me what I needed, telling me he meant those words—he saw me. And I poured everything I had into that kiss, giving him back what he was giving me because he deserved it.
No, he’d earned it.
19
Weston was in the kitchen a mug of coffee—his first of the day—halfway to his mouth when Chasin walked in.
“Where’s Silver?”
The way in which his friend asked, the ease, the normalcy, hit Weston. It was like the woman had been with them months or years—not just days. It was a given she was in the house somewhere and when it hit, Weston liked the tightness in his chest. He liked that Silver was in the house, in his bed where he’d left her sleeping. He liked it enough to know he was going to do his best to convince her that not only did she like it, too, but she wanted to stay.
Weston didn’t know how that was going to work with her job—the commute would suck—but the two-week rotation would suck more. Something he knew he had to prepare for now that Silver was in his life and he was keeping her in it.
“Sleeping,” Weston answered before taking a drink.
“She okay after what went down with her dad?”
Putting the mug on the counter next to his hip, Weston took in his friend. Totally disheveled, track pants on, and shirtless. That was Chasin every morning when he came down for coffee. Something that was going to have to change with Silver in the house.
“You gotta shirt you could put on?”
The smug bastard smiled and shook his head.
“Not one handy.”
“You think maybe you could find one?”
“I could, but I’m not feelin’ the necessity seein’ as I’m in my kitchen first thing in the morning and I haven’t even had a cup a joe a’ yet.”
Weston watched his friend move around the space, pulling bagels from the cabinet before setting them on the counter, pulling one out, splitting it open, then popping it in the toaster. He did that thinking about what he’d done to Silver on that counter. Then Weston smiled and decided he didn’t give a fuck if Chasin walked around with his shirt off. Silver was his in a way that he knew she wouldn’t stray.
“No, she’s not,” Weston answered the other man’s earlier question.
Chasin’s mouth got tight before he said, “That man’s an ass. Totally clueless. His daughter was standing right in front of him and he missed it. And the fuck of it was, she wasn’t hiding what he was doing to her. And if he couldn’t see it, he should’ve been able to hear it.”
“Agreed. Family dynamics are fucked and that’s putting it mildly. Her mother is a total bitch, pure poison.”
“Gotta say, watching that shit yesterday, I get that stubborn streak she has. Bet she learned that attitude early on or she’d get railroaded.”
“She learned a lot of things early on, and none of them good.”
“Alec still coming down today?” Chasin asked, thankfully changing the subject. It was too early to think about Silver’s fucked-up parents, a subject that was sure to piss him off. And that was the last thing he wanted to be when he went back upstairs to wake up his woman.
“Far’s I know. He said his team’s made good progress and they’re close to getting us what we need.”
“Good. I’ll be happy when this shit’s over.”
Chasin’s bagel popped up and he scowled at the toaster.
“Why?”
“Why?” Chasin repeated, pulling the hot bread from the appliance and dropping it on the counter.
“You have a problem with Silver staying here?”
“Fuck, no.” His friend turned his attention to Weston. “The obvious reason I want this shit done is because your woman’s in danger. I’d like that to be over for her, and for you as well. The other reason is someone needs to sort Holden’s shit.”
Hell, not Holden’s issues again.
“Listen, I already talked to Nix about this. I think we need to give Holden space to work this out on his own. The situation is seriously screwed up and he doesn’t need us in his business. He needs time—”
“Fuck that. Would you give me time if I was purposely hurting myself?”
Goddamn it, Chasin had a point. Weston wouldn’t stand around with his thumb up his ass while his friend tortured himself. But still, things were complicated. Very complicated, and there was more than Holden to think about.
“If you get in Holden’s face about this and he retreats, that could fuck Charleigh and Faith. As far as I see it, they just got him back. You say something about that guilt he’s been carrying around, it comes back ten-fold and he may never recover. We hang back and watch. If he needs it, we take his back. But you know Holden, you know the love he has for Charleigh, you know what her choosing Paul over him did to him, and you know he’s never recovered. It’s time for him to move on.”
“And if he moves on with Charleigh? You gotta problem with that?”
Weston didn’t, but by the look on Chasin’s face, not to mention the anger in his voice, he had an issue with it.
“I got no problem with a man loving a woman and finally doing what he should’ve done more than ten years ago.”
“That’s Paul’s wife.”
“No, Chasin, that’s Paul’s widow. Paul’s gone, has been for a long time. He was a good friend, a good teammate, father, but a shit husband. And if you dig deep and take off the rose-colored lens, you’ll see it, too. Paul married a woman because he got her pregnant. He did that knowing she loved someone else. He tried to make her love him, but he failed, mainly because he kept throwing Holden in her face. And you know that to be true, too, because he admitted it to us, and you were the one that told him that shit was jacked.”
“Fuck,” Chasin growled. “He fucks her around, I’m gonna be pissed.”
“He won’t.”
“Yeah? And you know that how?”
“Because he fuckin’ loves her.”
“He loved her before and still let her walk.”
“And he’s lived with the consequences of that. He stopped livin’ the day she left. He stopped taking a full breath the day she married Paul, and he’s been punishing himself since the day Faith was born.”
Chasin was staring at his feet and Weston decided he was done with a conversation he didn’t want to have—but seriously didn’t want to have while his woman was upstairs in his bed.
“I’ll leave you with this, Holden is dying inside. If Charleigh and Faith can heal that, they’d have my gratitude.”
Weston left his half-empty cup on the counter and decided he’d come back down and make a fresh pot after he woke up Silver. He left his friend in the kitchen to ponder alone, hoping Chasin didn’t talk to Holden. Weston walked back into his room. His eyes hit Silver’s long, shiny hair fanning over his pillow, and all thoughts about Holden, Chasin, and Charleigh were gone.
He took his time studying the beauty in his bed. Then his mind went back to last night and the way she writhed under him when his tongue was in her mouth and his hand in her panties playing with her clit. She stopped writhing and started bucking as soon as his fingers slid into her pussy. When her orgasm broke loose and her pussy convulsed, all he could think about was how badly he wished it was his cock and not his fingers feeling her spasm.
It
was becoming increasingly harder to hold back and go slow. Giving her more of him every night but stopping before he lost control. Silver was getting bolder—her hands freely roamed, her tongue licked and nipped his throat and chest. As dangerous as that was, allowing her to go any lower in her exploration would be catastrophic. His only recourse when she begged to take things further was to kiss her. And that was problematic in its own right, the woman could fucking kiss, every time their lips touched it was like she was drinking from his soul.
Silver shifted, rolling from her side to her back, the sheet only covering her lower half. She was in his tee and a pair of silky lavender panties with black lace trim. The image of them seared into his memory, the way his hand looked disappearing under the material, the look of them when he’d yanked them down her legs and tossed them on the sheets so he could fuck her with his fingers without the obstruction. And finally when he’d put them back on her. There was something supremely sexy helping his woman dress, sliding the panties back up her long legs and smoothing them around her hips, knowing he’d taken them off and now he was putting them back on. Same with his tee, though last night, he’d left it on and pulled it up, leaving it bunched under her chin. If her pleading and moaning were anything to go by, Silver hadn’t minded he hadn’t taken the time.
The longer he stood staring at her, the harder his cock became until it was throbbing in jeans, imploring him to give up his quest to give her time. Three times he’d jerked off in the shower, all three had taken no more than wrapping his hand around his cock and squeezing for the urge to hit, a few strokes later come was pulsing from his cock, with the way Silver looked, sounded, and tasted on his mind.
He was still enjoying watching her when her eyes opened and she smiled.
“Morning,” she mumbled, and he wondered if he’d ever get used to her sleepy, soft voice.
He hoped like fuck he didn’t. He liked she came awake slowly, taking her time, to let the sleepy shift from her. He loved the little mews she made when she stretched. Though, there wasn’t much he didn’t like about Silver.
“Morning, babe.”
Weston made his way to the bed and sat on the edge, brushing the hair off her neck so he could lean in and kiss her there. Smelling the faint smell of the lotion she used did nothing to calm his dick. It smelled like summer, flowers, and the crisp scent of champagne. The bottle called it “A Thousand Wishes”. He had no idea how the name came to be, but he’d wished more than a thousand times that fragrance would never leave his bed.
His mouth hit her soft skin, and he smiled when Silver moaned. Foolishly deciding she needed more, his tongue came out and he tasted her from the bottom of her ear down to her throat. That earned him more groaning, and Silver’s hand making its way under his shirt and gliding up his back.
Foolish.
He knew better. The simplest touch, even an innocent one meant to say good morning, was lethal.
Silver’s head tipped back, wordlessly asking for more, and like the idiot he was, he gave it to her, starting something he knew would end with his cock in extreme pain.
“Weston.”
The sound of his name falling from her lips on a moan made his cock throb and he lifted his face from her neck.
“Time to get up, sleeping beauty,” he muttered against Silver’s forehead, and unable to move until he did, he pressed a kiss there.
“Why do you keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Pulling away from me.”
He hated she sounded so unsure. Hated her voice was just above a whisper and she wasn’t looking at him.
“The last thing I’m doing is pulling away. Silver, you have all of me.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Babe?” he prompted when she didn’t continue.
Her eyes came to his and all Weston could see was hurt and uncertainty.
What the fuck?
“You keep stopping. You won’t let me touch you.”
Realization hit but it still didn’t explain the hurt. Each time they’d been together Weston knew she’d wanted more, thought he was doing the right thing taking it slow and not allowing her to get caught up in the moment. Not wanting her to regret being with him, or her going into her head thinking she was easy. Nowhere in any of that had he meant to hurt her.
“You got today,” Weston told her. “Think on it when we’re not in this bed, when your head’s clear. Tonight if you still want me to take what you’re offering, we’ll go from there.”
“I don’t need to think on it. I know what I want. I keep telling you.”
“Take the day, Silver—for me. I need it. I need to know you’re sure, really sure. I’m in deep, sweetheart. We take it to the next level and you regretting it will gut me. I’m taking things slow, giving you time. But what I need you to understand is I want you so fuckin’ bad I literally ache. Me not fucking you has nothing to do with you and everything with me wanting to do right by you.”
Silver’s eyes lost the hurt, they went soft and lazy before she said, “I’ll take the day.”
There it was, his girl, she wasn’t as stubborn as she wanted everyone to think. Deep down she was agreeable with the important stuff.
“I want you naked, babe.”
“What?” The lazy went out of her face and was replaced with hunger.
Fuck, yeah.
“Naked. Now. I’m gonna fuck you with my tongue before I take you downstairs to feed you.”
Silver didn’t answer, not with words. She tore the tee up over her head, exposing her tits, making Weston’s cock jump. Silver caught the way he was staring at her and shivered.
“Hurry, Silver, I’m hungry.”
And Weston did his second favorite thing and removed his woman’s panties. Though he supposed after tonight that action would move down the list and be replaced with something else.
After her panties were on the floor, Weston set about fucking Silver. When she started bucking her hips and grinding her pussy on his face, he decided to add his fingers. When she came on his tongue, calling out his name, he decided tonight he’d eat her again right before he filled her full of cock and made her come a different way.
20
If anyone could ruin the high of an early morning orgasm, it was my dad. Even after a good night’s sleep, he was still acting like a lunatic. Only now, he was doing it in front of Alec Hall.
Alec had shown up not even a minute after my dad had been banging on the door demanding to see me. He did this at barely eight AM, Chasin letting him. Weston and I were still upstairs but we heard Chasin’s booming demand for my dad to be quiet all the way in Weston’s bedroom.
Then as we were walking down the stairs a second knock came at the door, annoying Chasin. I knew that because he’d not-so-quietly muttered, “Christ, it’s goddamn Grand Central Station around here.” Then he opened the door and in walked a very irate Alec.
Next came Holden. He didn’t knock, he just walked in, looked around the room, his eyes landing on my dad, and he, too, looked pissed.
That was when the high started to fade and it had gone downhill quickly.
Dad being Dad, meaning he was a drama-king thinking he was playing the role of some smart guy in a movie who had everything figured out, that being his daughter was being held hostage and brainwashed and no one could be believed—including said daughter—because they were all in on the deed.
This necessitated Dad looking up the Department of Homeland Security’s phone number on the internet, because the business card Alec had given him could be fake, and after ten minutes of him being transferred and being placed on hold, finally confirmed Alec Hall indeed worked for DHS.
That’s when Dad fucking finally admitted everything could possibly be on the up-and-up. But he did this by saying, “You can never be too careful.”
God, my dad.
But it had taken a man named Jonny Spenser, who was a Kent County sheriff, showing up and talking to my dad before he agreed to call the
police in Florida and tell them I wasn’t missing. Jonny had spoken to them as well, explaining he was looking right at me and I was fine.
With all of that done, my high was no longer a high—it was a memory. Albeit a fantastic memory as any memory of Weston between my legs was, but now I was pissed and embarrassed.
Through all of that, Weston never left my side. He’d led me into the kitchen, fixed me a cup of coffee, made me toast after I declined eggs and bacon, then he stood next to me while I ate and my dad was having his drama in the living room.
I’d apologized profusely, offered to try to calm Dad down, but Weston had refused and told me Chasin, Holden, Alec, and Jonny would deal with him. Then he ordered me to enjoy my coffee and not worry about what was going on in the other room.
That proved to be impossible. Not the enjoying my coffee part, the not worrying. Dad was making himself look like an idiot, and by extension, me.
If that wasn’t enough, Jameson was now walking through the door with Nixon and McKenna on his heels.
Fucking perfect.
“Good morning,” McKenna said, coming directly to Weston and me in the kitchen, ignoring my crazy father.
“It’s something…. but what it isn’t, is good,” I grouched, and McKenna smiled.
“Well, I have some good news.”
“Awesome. I need something good.”
“Actually, I have two things. Both good.”
I waited for McKenna to continue but I did this looking at her smile. It was huge, it was blinding, and it was full of love.
“Nix and I set a date,” she told me. “We both wanted something small so that made it easy.” Understanding dawned. She and Nix had been going back and forth about their wedding. They’d finally decided. “We’re gonna do it here on the farm. In four weeks.”
“That’s not good news, that’s great news,” I told her, and Weston’s arm around me squeezed.
“Yeah, it is,” she whispered.
I didn’t know McKenna all that well, but I knew she loved Nixon beyond reason. Her face lit every time she talked about him. And when he walked into the room it was that times ten. She’d told me about her ordeal, how she and Nixon met, then how she’d found herself in a tight spot and Nix had saved her from something really horrible. I was happy my new friend was happy.
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