“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered. “At all.”
A small smile. “I’ll teach you.” I brought my hand from her hair to her face, ran my knuckles along her neck, stopping at her pulse, feeling the violent thrum. “Teach you how to love me.” Up and down her neck I slid my knuckles, watching the simple touch part her lips and turn her eyes hazy like a sunset.
“Teach you I love you. Every day. For however long you’ll have me, Tweetie.”
She tugged on my neck, pulling me on top of her.
TWEETIE
Ragged breathing was the only sound. Flip was in briefs, legs on either side of my thighs. I was only in my thin, cotton underwear. His dark eyes traveled my body in starvation.
I was worried.
Beneath his thighs of steel, abs hewn from marble, and a jaw so sharp it could cut glass, I felt unworthy. He was a god, and what was I in comparison? But then his eyes found mine and he spoke.
“Fuck me,” he said, voice strangled. “Look at you. You’re going to kill me.” Warmth flooded me in a blush I could feel. Big, strong hands searched every inch of me, sure in their work. Places I never would have considered Flip would want to touch, he was determined to explore.
My ankle. Beneath my knee. My hip bone. The sides of my waist.
“I’m going to keep you like this forever,” he groaned. “Open. Naked. Under me where you belong.” Then his lips were on my stomach. Between my thighs. Everywhere. And I was lost to them.
Bite.
Gasp.
“That sound,” he groaned. “Make it again.” To make sure I did it, he softly clamped his teeth on my thigh, before swiping his tongue across to heal me. I threw my head back and bit my shoulder to keep from crying out.
Flip slid up my body and caught my chin. He was silent, staring at me with heavy, loaded eyes. A rocky breath, then his stare flicked to the mark on my shoulder.
“I can’t decide which is sexier. You biting your shoulder, or hearing you cry.” His thumb grazed my lower lip, and the air thickened.
I darted my tongue out, licking his thumb.
His lids dropped, ravenous. “Fuck.” He pushed his thumb into my mouth and I traced my tongue along it. Seeing how hard his muscled chest pushed with his breaths and the way his eight-pack tightened against his tattoo was such a turn-on. He was as close to the edge as I was.
I squeezed my thighs, needing some kind of release.
He felt the movement and released a low noise, deep in his throat.
I pressed my fingers to his tattoo—our tattoo. I memorized the ridges and grooves of his thumb while I gently touched his inked-over muscles. It felt monumental: this tattoo, us, the moment.
And then everything stilled.
Flip dragged his thumb from my lips, palms grasped my face, eyes glowing—burning. I nipped at his palm. I was done. I couldn’t take the waiting.
Then his mouth found mine. Swallowed and sucked like he was starving. He didn’t let me control a single moment. It was fast and hot and heated, I had to catch breaths as if caught in waves. His kiss promised everything.
“I love you,” he said as he sucked my lower lip. Then he paused, lips still pressed to mine. “You are my everything. I will try so fucking hard to give you everything.” Then he attacked my mouth again, not giving me a chance to respond. So I told him in my kiss.
You’re my everything and that’s all I need.
I put two thumbs into his briefs and tugged them down, past a perfectly taut butt.
He had me out of my underwear just as quickly.
And then he was there, between my thighs. So hot and hard and there was nothing between us. No one to come to the door, no secrets to stop us.
“Are you ready?” His words were so rough and warbled, they were hardly discernible. He was barely holding himself together. Yet still so sweet and gentle and tender, like always.
I wrapped my legs around him, telling him yes in a kiss.
We didn’t stay in bed long before the need to get out and shred hit us both, but I could still feel him, was still sore from him. It wasn’t anything like I’d felt before, like when I had a bad slam; this was new, the best sore. Every movement brought back memories of Flip.
We’d lain in bed after and I’d been worried he’d be uncomfortable. Flip wrapped himself around me, nose to my hair, whispering so many sweet and tender things the worry melted away as I nearly melted into him. Now Flip stretched his arms high into the pink sunset, revealing the sharply cut muscles of his Adonis belt, and my eyes dropped, mouth going dry. I could see it through his jeans, see him. I should’ve been writing sonnets to that. I squeezed my thighs, remembering him inside me.
“Promise to tell me if it hurts.”
“I’m okay. I’m…perfect.”
“You okay?”
I gasped, pulled from the memory and into the present, into Flip’s arched brow. I’d been staring at his jeans for a minute, and he looked at me with a mixture of confusion and humor.
I rubbed my neck. “Huh?”
“What are you thinking?” His voice was low; dark, arrogant humor matched the crook hooking his cheek.
“I…” My brain stuttered, violent heat racking my body. He let out a low, laughing rumble like he knew exactly what I was thinking and it went straight to my gut.
Flip dropped his board and stalked to me, a simultaneous predatory and worshipping look in his eyes. I knew that look. He’d spent hours on me with that same look, held my gaze through everything, dark, glowing, and focused, determined to put the awe back in my eyes, as he’d said. And I’d begged him for hours, not quite certain what I needed but certain I’d needed something.
“I was just thinking about skateboarding…” I lied as he arrived at my feet, still so nervous and awkward, even after we’d shared everything.
His hands came to my neck, thumbs grazing my cheek, a soft smile on his face now. “Hey beautiful.” He pressed a soft, closed-mouth kiss to my lips. “Have you named it yet?” He knew I was lying, and he was giving me an out.
Now I didn’t want one.
I couldn’t think, drunk on the warmth spreading out from the single spot where his lips had been connected to mine.
He laughed, low and arrogant. “Your trick.” His hands traveled from my neck, down to my shoulders, rubbing my biceps.
“I…I think I’m going to call it a kickflip.”
He stopped. “I can’t tell if that’s good or bad.” He’d kick-started everything. My love for skateboarding. My career. My heart.
It was definitely good.
I shrugged coyly.
He gave me a look like he knew I was keeping something, but let it go. With another short kiss, he dropped me and grabbed his board.
We skated for hours together, until the sun was rising warm and fuzzy orange against the trees. Then he hopped off his board, kicking it to the other side with one foot. His eyes landed on me, the same predatory look, slightly subdued, a bit mischievous.
Nerves crawled up my spine. “What?”
Without words, Flip hopped on mine with me, pushed my hair back, caressing my face. I don’t know if I’d ever get used to this. Someone who looked at me the way he did. Who held me the way he did. With such utter devotion.
Flip kissed me deeply as my board rolled unevenly with our weight. He kissed the way he’d moved inside me: slow and tender, using my sighs as our tempo. And like in bed, he loved to drive me wild. Push me to the edge. Use his tongue to tease, his bites to test my limits. Until I curled and melted into him and begged for more. Only when my nails did more damage than his teeth did he give me what I wanted.
I couldn’t breathe. Beyond begging, grasping and dragging along the muscles coiled beneath his warm skin.
And then it happened.
Miraculous.
An explosion.
His name on my tongue, in the air, in breaths and bursts. A prayer against his skin. Our eyes locked, a kiss so deep I was certain it touched my soul. Sa
tisfaction glittered when he pulled back. He touched the corner of my eye, voice like crushed velvet.
“There it is.”
Suddenly we crashed, so wrapped up in one another the board hit the curved wall of the ramp. We fell in a mess of laughter and limbs.
“First rule,” he said with a smile.
I hopped off his chest, giving him my hand. “But do you know the second rule?” I asked.
Flip arched a brow, shaking his head while taking my hand.
I tugged him up and said, “I’ll catch you.”
THE END
Epilogue
PIP
A string of lanterns and fairy lights lit up the fog, and the curiously beautiful patchwork graffiti stood stark against the overcast sky.
The house I told myself I’d never seek out.
Home of Kingston Ayers, once the baddest, most popular, most arrogant boy in school.
I was the bookworm, the fool, the freak, who’d given my first kiss to him, only to have him turn around and use it as a tool to torment me.
Kingston Ayers, a boy now known as King. Corrupt to some, but a Rebel God to others.
If I had anywhere else to go for help, you’d bet I’d be there in an instant. Instead I’m running right into the arms of the Corrupt of Heaven Falls, praying for help from a man who’d only ever used my tears as hydration.
I took a deep breath and knocked.
The same, small pretty blonde who’d tried to talk to me when Bizzy and I made the mistake of visiting King answered.
“Hey!” She perked up. “I know you. You’re King’s—” She was cut off, shoved back behind a massive body. Kingston. My entire body resonated and vibrated with his presence. The boy who’d stolen my heart and never gave it back.
“I told you never to come here.” He couldn’t have been colder. No emotion. Just like when he asked me for help. Showed up after years of no communication. No response to my letters. Nothing. Needed me because the place he’d run away to, run from me to, was under siege.
Never mind our families had been at war since that fateful night ten years ago, he needed my help to save his new family. He called again just a few weeks ago, to get them all out of jail. At first, I’d been so angry I could barely think. But now I saw the opportunity.
Once upon a time I’d been the goth and he’d been the golden boy. Now I’d shed my combat boots for Chanel flats and Kingston was no longer coveted, he was Corrupt, but I knew better than to think I had the upper hand. Fate had simply granted me this one fleeting moment.
I owe you, he’d said. Maybe Kingston thought little Pip wouldn’t actually collect.
I gripped my arms, nails digging into my soft pink jacket, eyes on the floor.
I swallowed, and looked up, eyes locking with Kingston. “Kingston.” It fell from my lips, needy and hot in a traitorous breath.
Kingston everyone mouthed, eyes wide.
“What?” The blonde, curly haired one asked. “What’s going on?”
All four of his friends sat up straight, eyeing me curiously.
I was shaking—shivering, practically. I knew fear bled from my eyes and the quiver in my voice was high, a violin string plucked.
Which must have made my next words all the more confusing.
“I’m here to collect your debt.”
Patchwork House #2
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Also by Mary Catherine Gebhard
Patchwork House
Skater Boy (Patchwork House #1)
Patchwork House #2 Summer 2019
Patchwork House #3 Fall 2019
Patchwork House #4 Winter 2019
www.PatchworkHouseSeries.com
The Hate Story Duet
Beast: A Hate Story, The Beginning
Beauty: A Hate Story, The End
Owned Series
You Own Me (Owned #1)
Let Me Go (Owned #2)
Tied (Owned #2.5) FREE!!
Come To Me (Owned #3)
Standalones
Elastic Heart
Acknowledgments
I don’t know about you, but acknowledgments are my favorite part of a book. I love seeing who supports the author behind the scenes. So, these are my supporters.
My alphas and betas, Sonal, Kris, Amanda, Phala, Nikki, and Julia. They’re the rockstars who read my crazy ramblings and saw it for what it could be
My reader group, GetHard. They put up with all my inappropriate memes and waited more than a year for my next book. It’s such a wonderful, inclusive place, and Sonal and Sasha do such a wonderful job admin-ing.
My street team is new, but I couldn’t be happier for the girls inside it. They blow me away with their support.
Nancy Smay came to my rescue when I had to reschedule my editing at the last minute and did such a great job.
Becca with Edits in Blue gave me valuable content editing insights. She also happens to be a pretty amazing human who helps me put out all my fires.
Ellie with My Brother’s Editor did my first round of proofing and I will always recommend her. Not only is she great but she’s a genuinely good person who loves this community.
Caitlin with C. Marie did my second round of proofing. She’s always fantastic and I can’t not have her on a project.
Karen is quickly becoming my girl Friday. I’ve lost track of how many times my husband has said, “I get it, you like Karen.”
Hang Le did such an amazing job on this cover. It’s honestly everything I wanted. It was a hard road to get my vision out, but she was nothing but amazing and professional.
Bloggers and bookstagrammers are consistently a huge help, and this release was no exception. I’m so grateful to everyone who signed up to promote me.
The authors in this community. It’s obvious that so many authors just want everyone to succeed, and that’s so amazing.
My family, who I can share a book cover or a blurb with, and they’ll freak out and get excited with me. Or maybe leak the cover two months before the reveal, simply because they’re just so excited…
Rachel and Collin, who took me into their home in Korea and gave me so much inspiration for so many things, who took care of me when I was sick and partied with me and gave me the cutest, nicest nickname ever and the inspiration for Tweetie.
My friends, who love me and help me and laugh with me, friends who are very different, but that makes it so much better.
My husband, the love of my life, and the man who supports all my endeavors. Who doesn’t groan (anymore) when I jump up in the middle of a conversation to write down something that inspires me.
And to everyone and in between…I love you!
Now this is a little different but, I want you to write your name in, whether it’s in ink in your paperback or a highlight on an ebook…
_____________________________
Because thank YOU for helping me on this journey and continuing to support me.
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Skater Boy (Patchwork House Book 1) Page 30
