She steps in slowly, hissing at the temperature of the hot water.
“Do you need me to cool it down?”
“No, Aiden. I just need you to let me love you.” Her fingers dance over my chest as her lips devour mine. Her perfect breasts are pressing against my skin before she pulls back and slides down to her knees. She licks the length of my dick and lifts those eyes to mine. “Tell me what you want, Aiden.”
“Just you, Princess. I just want you.”
Minutes later, when I’m on the verge of coming down her throat, I lift her up, leaning her against the tile wall, letting her body sink down on mine in one excruciatingly slow move. Slow doesn’t last long though. In just moments, I’ve found the rhythm I know my girl needs to get her where I already am. With one hand wrapped around her back and the other around her throat, I force her eyes to mine. “Jesus, Princess. You’re my everything. My life. My love. My home.”
I thrust one last time, moving my mouth to hers, and swallow her cry as she comes around me, whispering, “I love you, Sabrina Cabot.”
I’m getting everything together for breakfast burritos Sunday morning when Chloe skips into the kitchen, makes herself a cup of coffee, and lifts herself up onto the counter. I feel her stare drilling into the back of my head. “What’s up, Chloe? What’s on your mind?”
“You ready for tonight, Murph?”
“What do you mean?” She tilts her head to the side, considering what she’s going to say next. “Imagine the nastiest game you've ever played in.”
I nod my head. It's not a far stretch to imagine yesterday.
“Sabrina's mom is going to be worse today.”
I don't bother telling her that's not possible. I appreciate that she's got Brina's back on this. “You're not telling me anything I don't already know, Chloe.”
“It's going to be rough. That's all I'm trying to say. Don't let your anger at what she says get the better of you, Murph.” Still staring at me, she waits until I finally stop and give her my full attention. “I’ve known Mrs. Cabot for twelve years. Trust me, she knows how to push every button Sabrina has. She’s a master manipulator, and it sounds like she thinks you’re a bug that needs squashing.”
I start to let that sink in. I don’t think Sabrina can be as easily manipulated as Chloe thinks. She’s not giving her enough credit.
Chloe hops down. “You're a protector. You always have been. You've just hidden it with laughter. Don't lash out when Mrs. Cabot pisses you off. Because, trust me, she will.”
“Gotcha.” I grab the salsa and cheese out of the fridge and then hunt down a few bowls.
“And don’t let Sabrina push you away, like she’s probably going to try to do. She’s not good at accepting help. She never has been.” Chloe looks at me, assessing. “Has anyone told you that we all knew this was happening?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You and Brina. We all knew it was a matter of when, not if. I'm glad you guys finally figured it out. You're such a good guy, Murph. She deserves you.” Chloe takes the bowls out of my hands, puts them on the counter, and then wraps her arms around my waist.
“What? No threat that I better treat her right?” I smile at this wild girl I've known my entire life. She's practically as much of a sister to me as Carys is, and I love her like one. I'm glad I've got her in my corner and even more grateful Sabrina does too.
“No, Murph. I know you'll treat her right. You guys are like yin and yang. She makes you more serious, and you make her loosen up. Make sure she has some fun. Remind her to enjoy herself. I don’t think Sabrina does that enough.”
That I can do.
45
Sabrina
Murphy insisted on bringing me to my dorm and waiting for me while I got ready. I think he was worried I’d try to back out of this impending disaster we keep referring to as dinner with my parents. Not that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind a few hundred times today. I’d rather stand naked in front of Congress than have to listen to my mother defend herself tonight, and I know, without a doubt, that’s what’s in store for us.
Truth be told, last weekend was the first time I’ve ever stood up to my mother.
It was a gut reaction.
Instinct.
I think the only reason I had the nerve to do it then was because she was threatening the incredible man currently sitting on my big purple chair, laughing at something on his phone. The bathroom door is open as I finish my hair and makeup, allowing me to see him through the reflection in the mirror. He looks as handsome today in a charcoal grey sweater and dark-washed jeans as he did yesterday in the custom suit he was wearing after the game. The smile on his face is the carefree one I’ve seen most of my life, not the heavy look of grief he’s carried most of the week.
“What’s so funny over there?” I ask through the reflection.
“Coop. He got his phone and computer back Friday night, and he hasn’t stopped texting since. He’s like an alcoholic who just fell off the wagon and can’t help himself, so he drinks every drop of liquor in the store. He’s on a quest to find every new meme that’s been created in the last two months.”
I continue messing with my hair. “Will you tell him I said hi, and congratulations?”
Murphy’s fingers fly across his phone, and he laughs again.
“Do I even want to know what he said?”
“Probably not.” His eyes twinkle with mischief.
He tucks his phone in his pocket and crosses to the bathroom door, his hands stretching to reach the frame above his head and his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “Quit stalling, Princess. You look gorgeous. It’s time to go.”
Pushing out my bottom lip, I pout.
What the hell?
Since when do I pout?
Unplugging the curling iron, I begrudgingly admit, “You know, it’s annoying when you’re right.”
Murphy steps forward into my tiny bathroom, his presence sucking all the oxygen out of the space as his big body crowds mine against the sink. Strong fingers caress my neck and play with the ribbon tied in a bow at the back of my sweater. “I like this sweater. You look like a present waiting to be unwrapped. Completely covered up, but the promise of what’s under the wrapping is going to taunt me all night.”
I tried to dress conservatively tonight in an attempt to satisfy my mother. My black boatneck sweater is demure, with bell sleeves and a small ribbon tied in a pretty bow above my shoulder blades. A cute grey and black checkered wool skirt, black tights, and black knee-high boots with a square heel complete the outfit I put way too much thought into. I stare at the mirror. No doubt my mother will find some flaw in what I’m wearing, but I did make an effort.
“You’re zoning out on me, Princess.” Murphy leans down, kissing the sensitive spot on my neck.
His gaze roams my body, heating me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head before I turn in his arms. “We better leave now, or we aren’t making it to your parent’s house.”
“I’d be okay skipping.” I lean my head to the side, giving him better access.
He nips my ear. “Nope. Not happening. Come on. Time to deal with the evil queen.”
I feel the frustration bubbling up. I know he’s right, but I’m dreading this.
As we pull into the driveway of my parent’s home, my phone vibrates with an incoming text.
Penny: Sorry, Sabrina.
Sabrina: What’s up, Pen?
Penny: . . .
Sabrina: What are you sorry for?
I see the little dots on the message stop and start multiple times.
Sabrina: What’s going on, Pen?
Penny: . . .
Murphy turns off the car and pockets the keys. “What’s going on? Everything okay?”
“I don’t know. I just got a strange text from my sister.” I hand him the phone.
“Well, we’re here. Let’s go find out what she’s sorry for. No turning back now.”
Moments later, when we�
��re standing in the empty foyer of the home I grew up in, I’m completely confused. “Hello?” I call it out again before turning to Murphy. “I don’t think anyone’s home.”
“I think I smell dinner. Don’t you smell that? Why would your mom cook dinner then leave?”
A sardonic laugh leaves my throat. “She doesn’t cook, Aiden. That smell is takeout.”
My father’s office door opens, alerting us to his presence. He walks to me, kissing the crown of my head. “Sabrina, sweetheart. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I was just finishing up an important phone call.”
He reaches out and shakes Aiden’s hand. “Good to see you, Aiden. I’m glad the two of you were able to join me tonight. We were so sorry to hear about your teammate’s passing. What a tragedy.” Dad steps back and looks around the empty room. “Why don’t you both follow me into my office. There’s no use in wasting time.”
My feet stay firmly planted on the tile floor. “Dad, where are Mom and Penny? I thought we were all having dinner tonight.”
My father’s eyes zone in on Aiden’s hand resting on the small of my back, then move back to my eyes. He has a predatory smile on his face that I’ve seen before. It’s usually there when he’s strategizing.
What is he thinking?
“We have a lot to discuss, Sabrina, and I’d rather we did it sitting down and preferably with two fingers of scotch.” He walks away, looking every bit the seasoned power player, used to getting exactly what he wants.
I turn to Murphy. “This can’t be good.”
“I’m following your lead.” He places both hands on my shoulders and turns me around. “I’ve got your back. Just say the word, and we leave. But remember, there was a reason we came tonight. Let’s hear him out first.”
On shaky feet, I walk across the shining marble floor, following my father through the heavy door of his office.
He’s not sitting behind his desk, instead choosing the armchair situated at the head of a conversation area that he uses when he needs to prepare for war.
The irony isn’t lost on me at the moment.
Murphy and I sit on the couch to his right. I lace my fingers through his, hoping to borrow some of his strength. “Alright, Dad. We’re here. Now tell us what’s going on. Where are Mom and Penny? How are we supposed to discuss what happened last weekend without Mom being here?”
“Sabrina, you’re right. We do need to discuss what happened at the fundraiser, but I want to hear what’s going on with you first.” Then his eyes move to Murphy. “And you too, Aiden. I owe you an apology. I am sorry for what was said.” Dad’s eyes come back to mine. “Believe it or not, your mother’s heart was in the right place.”
I hear his words but refuse to accept them. “Dad, I swear, some days I wonder if she has a heart. She should be saying this. Not you.”
“Sabrina, your mother has as much right to speak for this family as I have to speak for her. You’ll learn that to have any kind of a successful relationship, the partnership between you and that person has to command a certain level of trust. I trust your mother to always have the good of our family as her first priority.”
“How can you say that?” He can’t be serious. “I saw her slipping away with Senator DeFelice. How can you trust her when her actions can destroy our family?”
“Do you actually think I don’t know what’s going on? Or that your mother would risk the political dynasty that this family has been building for over a century? A dynasty you stand to inherit? We have an agreement. She is allowed her dalliances, and I am allowed mine. NDA’s are there to keep us safe.” My father pulls a cigar out of his pocket and spins it in his fingers. “You threatened that safety last weekend, my dear. Now, stop acting like a child and listen to me.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
I can’t believe that my father is fine with this. I stand and cross my arms, allowing me to look down on my father. “This is absurd, Dad.”
“Sabrina, you’ve been groomed your entire life to put our family first. Not just our family, but our family name. You can’t possibly think our family has gotten where it is or will get where we are going by not protecting our image? Your mother thought she was doing that. She was attempting to protect both you and me.” He raises his brow, looking from me to the couch. I find he’s trained me so well, that I obey his nonverbal instruction. Once I’m seated, he offers a cigar to Aiden, who silently refuses. “Again, I am sorry for what was said to you, Aiden. You did not deserve to be spoken to in that manner. You will be an asset down the road. Elizabeth just didn’t see it then. She does now.”
Murphy swallows audibly. “Down the road, sir?”
“Yes. It’s too late for you to help with this campaign.”
Shifting in my seat, I cut my father off, but keep my eyes locked on his. “The next campaign usually starts within weeks of getting sworn in. It’s all closed-door happenings, but it’s there.” Shifting my eyes, I look at Murphy to see if he’s grasping the enormity of this. “Governing typically comes in a close second to campaigning.”
“Yes, Sabrina. That’s true for the senatorial race. But my last senatorial campaign will end next week.”
My heart sinks.
He isn’t planning on running for his senate seat again.
The last shred of hope I had at living everyday life out of the spotlight is about to be snapped, but I ask anyway. “Governor?”
“No.” He leaves the final statement unsaid. But it hangs there, all the same. My father has always wanted to run for the presidency. I’m well aware the sitting president has two years left in his term and his vice president is pushing eighty this year. There’s no way he’ll get the party’s nomination.
My father wants that nomination.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you two, but I’m not following.” Murphy’s eyes are ping-ponging between my father and me.
“Aiden, what my father is so eloquently dancing around, is that he is planning to run for president. To do that, he has to start building his war chest now. It’s an expensive campaign.”
Poor Aiden looks so confused. “Forgive me, but what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, son . . .”
My eyes whip angrily to my father. “Don’t. Don’t try to paint this into a pretty picture, Dad.”
I push up from the couch, walking to the French doors overlooking my mother’s prized rose garden. There are still a few red petals clinging to the branches, shining in the moonlight and refusing to give in to the impending winter. Do I refuse to give in, or cling on to my last shred of normalcy? Crossing my arms over my chest, I look over to Murphy, hating what I am about to do to us.
“What this means is that we’re all going to be under a microscope for the foreseeable future once he announces that he’s running . . . I’m thinking sometime after the State of the Union address. Right, Dad?”
My head swivels between my father, this man I’m realizing I barely know, to Murphy, the man who might very well recognize, after this conversation, that being in a relationship with me just isn’t worth it. “I’m guessing that announcement will happen six months from now. Then we’re going to be hounded. The press will pick everything apart. Penny might be safe because she’s young, but I’ll be fair game. If you stay with me, you will be too.”
“I still don’t know where I fit into this episode of Game of Thrones.”
My father laughs—actually laughs. “It’s more like West Wing, son.”
“I’d say it’s closer to House of Cards, Dad.” Annoyance is lacing every word. I hate this. “Think about it, Aiden. You’re a D1 football player. There are already talks of you going pro. That all looks good on paper, and a big, strong strapping athlete standing next to me looks good in pictures. We’re part of the strategy.”
Standing from the couch, he straightens to his full height, not sparing my father a glance as he makes his way to me. Both hands go to my face, and he brings his close to mine. “Either way, I’ll be s
tanding next to you, Sabrina.”
“You don’t know what you’re signing up for with this. I’ve watched this go down. I’ve studied it. You don’t want this kind of a microscope.”
“Princess, do you honestly think it’ll be that much different than what I’ll go through if I get drafted? We’ve got this.” His eyes bore into me, begging me to trust him.
“The press will love the two of you.” My father stands from his chair and refills his scotch glass, a smug smile planted on his face.
And I love Aiden. So this has to be done right. “If we agree to this, I want two things in return.”
“Name it.” There’s no hesitation in my father’s voice.
This may be my only chance. “Mom stays out of my life. She’s no longer allowed to dictate my schedule, my wardrobe, my anything. If you want me to continue to be a member of this family, she has to back the hell off. If you need me for something for your campaign, have your chief of staff call or have one of your minions do it. I don’t care who, so long as it’s not her. I’ll play the part of the perfect daughter, but that’s it. I’m done being treated like a staffer by my own family.
“I haven’t signed an NDA, and if Mom ever pulls anything like this again, I’ll blow her world up, leaving us all as collateral damage. Don’t test me on this, Dad. I’m your daughter, and I’m stronger than anyone you’ve ever known because you raised me to be that way.”
His smile grows bigger. “And the second?”
“If we ever say no. If we ever say we’ve had enough or aren’t willing to share something with the press, you have to promise me you’ll respect that. I didn’t sign up for this. Aiden didn’t either. I know you, Dad, and I know your ambition. You won’t lose. What you did here tonight was tell me that the next ten years of my life will be spent in a spotlight I never asked for. You can’t get there without the picture of the perfect family, and if you don’t give me this, I won’t be in that picture. Promise me, I get to choose to say no when I want to.”
“Done.”
More Than A Game (The Kings of Kroydon Hills Book 2) Page 24
