by Heather Long
I had to do something, or I was gonna puke. I didn’t think I’d ever been this full.
Alicia insisted on packing up leftovers for me to take home, and then she sent Jake off to take out the trash. Alone in the kitchen, she said, “Do you mind if I ask you a direct question?”
“Nope,” I told her and braced for it.
A smile softened her face, and I could see where Jake got his charming smile from without even trying. “It’s not that bad. I just wanted to know if you and Jake are being safe? He gets prickly when I ask him about these things.”
Clearing my throat, I nodded. “Definitely safe. He takes really good care of me.” Then, because I wanted her to know it wasn’t one-sided, I added, “And I’m trying to take really good care of him.”
After releasing a breath, Alicia nodded. “Thank you, and I know you take good care of him. He’s been happier in the last few weeks than he was all summer.” She winced. “Aside from…”
“It’s fine,” I told her. “Honestly?” At her nod, I continued, “Me too. This summer sucked, and there’s been some really awful stuff this year, too, but…Jake’s definitely one of the best things about everything.”
“Good.” Then she swept me into another hug that caught me off-guard. “I worry about you, sweetheart, and I’m glad you and Jake finally figured it out. You two have known each other forever.” I hugged her back, eyes getting a little misty at the affection.
“Thank you for having me over for dinner.” The backdoor slammed, and Jake edged into the room as Alicia gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before she let me go.
“Thank you for coming. The girls loved having you, and I meant it, I want you to come over more often. We all worry about you…” Then she tossed a look at Jake, who was scowling at her. “It’ll also mean I get to see Jake more.”
“Mom,” he grunted, and she laughed.
I felt a little guilty about that, but maybe I could fix it some. “I’d like that,” I told her. “I don’t know when or how often, but I would like that.”
“Then it’s settled.” Alicia gave Jake a smug look. “Told you, I liked her.”
He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around me. “I like her more.” After his mom left us alone, he nuzzled a kiss just behind my ear. “You might even say I love you.”
My heart bounced up to my throat, and I tilted my head back to look up at him. “Yeah?” Not my most erudite response.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning slowly, and I twisted carefully and wrapped my left arm around his neck as I set my casted right on his shoulder. He dipped his head, voice dropping low and sweet. “I love you, Frankie Curtis. Don’t ever forget it.”
My stomach bottomed out, and my eyes sparked with tears. “I hate you for doing this right here and now.”
He chuckled at me and pressed a kiss to my nose. “Sorry.”
“No you’re not,” I said with an exaggerated sigh.
“No,” he agreed. “I’m definitely not. But I do love you.”
“It’s a really good thing I love you, too, or I’d be annoyed at you for making me want to cry.”
His grin gentled, and he wrapped me up against him, face buried against my hair. I closed my eyes and held onto him. Against my ear he whispered, “The next chance I get, I’m going to eat you out until you’re screaming, Baby Girl. Then I’m going to do it again.”
A shiver raced up my spine, and my tears dried up at the tease. I groaned, and he chuckled.
“Better?”
“You are such an ass sometimes.” But who was I kidding? There was no heat in that statement at all.
As much as I’d have liked to just stay there and snuggle him or more—especially after that pair of declarations—we had to go. Ian was supposed to pick me up for dinner at his place.
I groaned by the time I climbed in Jake’s SUV, and he grinned at me. “I can find us a place somewhere to park and see if we can make it work in the car.”
“Okay, now that’s just mean.” I thumped him. One, because it sounded awesome, and two, because we were already running a little late.
“Anything for you, Baby Girl.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and got a kiss for my trouble.
Not so bad, really.
But I was so damn full, and Jake set the food his mom was sending with us into the backseat, pumpkin pie and all.
In the driver’s seat, he glanced over at me. “I can carry you and hand you over to Bubba if you’re having trouble.”
I flipped him off, but Jake just laughed.
I really had no idea how I was going to eat the next meal. And I kind of didn’t care, ‘cause Jake just said he loved me and my whole system hummed.
This might just be the best Thanksgiving ever.
Ian’s parents were going to kill me. The sheer volume of food they’d made rivaled that of what had been prepared at Jake’s house, only there were far fewer people. When Sara brought out the sweet potatoes and started loading up my plate, I swore my eyes turned into saucers.
“I know how much you used to love these,” Sara—she and her husband both insisted I call them by their first names, no more Mr. and Mrs. Rhys—said. “You do still love them right? If not, I’ve got other options. Joe and Ian are bringing the turkey in now.”
“Bringing it in?” On the drive over, Ian had been playing his songs in the car, and we’d been singing all the way here. It had been fun, though honestly, I wanted to lie down so bad and just die from being stuffed. I think I’d officially discovered too much food.
“Yes,” she said putting the dish down, then put a finger to her lips. “They deep fried the turkey.”
Oh God. I was going to die for real.
“Stay put, I’m going to get the rest.”
“I could help,” I offered. It was weak, but maybe moving around would help.
“No, I insist. I’ve been dying to pamper you, and we haven’t seen you in weeks.” Well, three weeks—ish. The last time had been at the police station, but probably not a discussion we wanted to have.
“I don’t need to be…” But it was too late, she was already on her way back to the kitchen. I leaned back in the chair, grateful as all get out for the skirt. ‘Cause it had an elastic waist. The smell of the turkey hit me as Ian and his dad carried it inside, and the golden-brown color and the rich, savory scent teased me.
It smelled fantastic.
I was so going to die.
The smile on Ian’s face sent a jolt through me, and I put a pin in my pity party. He’d been so delighted when Jake pulled up with me. He’d come to get me in his mom’s car, even though I had offered to drive myself over.
Jake had carried our leftovers up to join the guys gaming, and it had been kind of weird to leave them all there while I went to Ian’s, and at the same time, I loved the idea they were going to be there when we got back.
Sara was back with another dish as the guys set the turkey in the center of the table, both of them beaming with pride. “It’s gorgeous,” I complimented them.
“It is,” Sara said, laughing as she kissed her husband on the jaw. “Now if it tastes as good as it looks, this is going to be your job from now on.”
For his part, Joe just let out a mock sigh. “Yes, dear.”
It wasn’t long before the table groaned under all the food, and the carving of the turkey revealed not only was it perfect, it had this excellent crunch on the skin. The conversation stuck to safe topics—football, apparently whatever game had been on today was a point of contention between Ian and his dad—colleges, and Christmas decorating. The fact that they wanted to know if I wanted to come back the next day to help them put up their tree was kind of sweet, if a little overwhelming. I did my best to take bites, sometimes doing more pushing my food around than eating.
Whenever Joe or Sara focused on me though, I pushed through. I actually managed all of the sliced turkey, some of the cranberry sauce, a full helping of sweet potatoes, and the grilled brussel sprouts. Ian kept
our feet entangled, since we were sitting across from each other. When it was time for dessert, I had to beg off.
“I really can’t eat anymore,” I said, almost pleading. “I’m so stuffed. It was so good.”
Ian shifted to pull out his phone, and then he snapped a picture of me.
“What are you doing?” Sara asked him with a frown.
“Documenting the moment that we discovered Frankie can actually get full.”
I blew a raspberry at him, and he laughed, so did his dad and his mom. Thankfully, they let me skip the dessert, though Sara said she was sending a pie home with me and more leftovers.
Never had I been so grateful that the guys were staying with me. The leftovers alone would take care of a third of my food budget without even trying. After cleaning up, Ian and I ended up in his room where I could flop on the bed and die in peace while he played with his guitar.
Both of his parents had watched us as we headed up the stairs, and never had I been so aware of their scrutiny.
“Stop worrying about them,” he told me, while I was laying with my left arm over my eyes. “Mom loves you, and I thought Dad was pretty cool.”
“They were great,” I told him. “Beyond great.” I dropped my arm to look at him. “But it’s like they think we came up here to make out. And that’s…weird.”
He grinned slowly, still tuning his guitar. “They aren’t going to be sneaking up to listen at the door.”
Kill me, I did not need that mental image. “You suck.”
A soft laugh escaped him. “And you’re embarrassed.”
“Not embarrassed, just… Your dad already had problems with me…”
He stopped playing with the guitar. “He never had problems with you. He hated the situation you were in, and he was worried about you. But you? They love you, Frankie.”
I chewed my lower lip and then sat up slowly. I’d kicked my shoes off as soon as we were in the room. “I don’t want to mess this up again.”
“Neither do I,” he told me. Then he glanced at his guitar, then at me. “Do you want to make out?”
My eyes widened. Um… “While they’re downstairs?”
He shrugged. “If they already think we are, what does it matter?”
I opened my mouth to argue that point and then snapped it shut again. He quirked his brows and then began to set his guitar down. Rising, he pressed a finger to his lips and walked over to lock his door, and then he moved back to his stereo and turned it on.
The strumming of his guitar filled the room, and I bit my lip. He turned it up and then walked back over to the bed. When his lyrics drifted out of the speakers, I groaned. Okay, I didn’t think he could write a bad song, but this was one of the first ones he’d ever played for me. His eyes were on me as I scooted to the end of the bed. He dipped his head to kiss me, and I sighed against his mouth.
I wanted… I wanted a lot of things, and when I fumbled with the snaps on his jeans, he lifted his head and glanced at me.
“Frankie?”
“I want you,” I told him, and his smile dazzled me. “All of you.”
He gripped my upper arms gently and pulled me to my feet, and for one second, my heart fell. The last time I offered, he’d turned me down.
Then he teased his fingers under the edge of my sweater and tugged it upward, over and off, leaving me in the much thinner tank top I’d worn underneath.
“Are you sure?” was the only thing he asked.
“Yes,” I promised, all trace of hesitation gone. He swooped his head down, and then his lips moved over mine, hard, fierce, and demanding, even as he wrapped his arms around me and dragged me in close.
Oh.
Yes.
Exactly what I wanted.
Chapter Ten
In Your Eyes
Locked against Ian was probably one of the best places I’d ever been. The ferociousness in his kiss demanded every ounce of my attention, and I was very much on board with that plan. The sharp bite of his teeth against my lower lip pulled a moan from me that I tried to swallow. Three facts burned in my brain.
We were at Ian’s house. His parents were downstairs. And Ian had his hands under my tank top and the bra unhooked so smoothly I hadn’t even felt it. Everything about his kiss was hot, demanding, and relentless. The only time he let up was to pull away and lift my tank top up. Between us, we got it up and off. The lacy bra slid right off my arms, and Ian’s gaze locked on me.
Heat scorched over my skin. A part of me gulped. I was standing in front of Ian, shirtless and bare. The weight of my skirt was soft against my legs, but it had nothing on the way his gaze moved over me. I wanted this. I wanted him. I’d wanted him since that day in the pool when he’d kissed me. A real, proper kiss.
We stood there, hung in that moment, with his music playing as if our own personal soundtrack. The earlier threat of food coma all but fled. So did my worries about the fact that we were in his parents’ house. How many times had we been tucked away in here with his guitar in his lap while I sprawled on his bed? Impatience crept through me, or maybe it was just the way he kept looking at me, adoring me, I pushed my fingers into the elastic band of the skirt and pushed it down my thighs until I could wiggle and step out of it.
Then it was just me in a pair of lace panties that Archie had picked out that morning. The bra matched it, not that I gave a damn at the moment. Beads of perspiration glistened on Ian’s forehead, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. The weight of his hands settled on my hips, and I licked my lips slowly. When he tracked the motion of my tongue, almost riveted, joy bubbled through me.
It wasn’t just me.
“Ian…” I didn’t get to finish the thought. It was like saying his name just unleashed him, because his hands spasmed against my sides, and then he picked me up and pulled me right to him. I managed to get my arms around his neck before his mouth slammed down on mine. Coherent thought shredded as he dug his fingers into my ass. I curled upward, pressing my thighs to his hips, as desperate to be closer to him as he seemed to be in me.
The sleepy rope of tension inside of me grew taut. The rub of his shirt against my breasts teased my already taut nipples, and I ached for him. No words escaped, not that I could even form them with the way he held my mouth hostage. He kissed me like he wanted to gobble me up. And I didn’t care how much I’d eaten today, I was starving for him.
When he slid a finger under the seam of my panties, I pulled my head up. Not far, because I didn’t want to break the moment. So many broken moments along the way littered with misunderstandings and cracked by our own personal histories and family dramas.
Ian stared at me as he traced his finger along the curve of one butt cheek. It was hardly the most intimate touch, and at the same time, it was everything. His eyes blazed with a kind of intensity I didn’t think I’d ever seen in him before. A shiver worked its way up my spine at the promise in those deep blue eyes.
“Angel,” he whispered, his voice hoarse like it took real effort to squeeze my name out.
Oh, did I know how that felt.
Not quite trusting my voice at this point, I raised my eyebrows and hoped like hell he wasn’t about to back us off again. I mean, I’d understand. I had kind of jumped him—literally as well as figuratively. Pressuring him would be as dickish as if he were pressuring me.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly, as if each syllable cost him personal effort before he swiped his tongue over his lips. I couldn’t help but track the motion. From the last few minutes, I had three thoughts about that very talented tongue. I’d always loved the sounds he made with it when he sang. He kissed me like he wanted to own me. And I couldn’t wait to feel what that tongue would be like on other parts of my body.
“You don’t know?” I prompted when no more words were forthcoming. His breath brushed my cheek as he brushed his lips against mine. Okay. I was good with more kissing, but he stopped just short of actually kissing me, and I hesitated.
“I don’t know—you don�
��t know how badly I want this,” he admitted, and my stomach bottomed out. I bit my lower lip to hold back a moan of complaint. I was already plastered to him, mostly naked. I didn’t think I could make it much more clear how much I wanted him unless I painted a sign on my abdomen with an arrow pointing down that said ‘put your dick here.’
The absolutely inane thought burst through the hazardous to my mental health sexual tension clouding my brain, and I had to bite my lip harder to keep from laughing.
Mostly because it would be inappropriate, but also because then I’d have to explain it. And I was having the worst time focusing at the moment, with his lips this close to me and the feel of his hands cupping my ass when I wanted him to do so much more.
Swallowing, I turned his statement over in my head and then rolled my hips to grind against him. Maybe this was one of those places where actions spoke louder than words. The thickness of his erection was right there, and my panties soaked with the first grind. A vein pulsed in his throat as he tightened his hands on my ass, and the finger along one of my cheeks became all of them. The lace ripped as he swallowed, and I let out a little laugh.
Heat burned up through me, and I kissed him this time while fisting the fingers of my left hand into his hair. The world twisted, and then I was on my back on the bed with all of his weight pressing into me. The grind of his hips rasped the denim right against my pussy because he yanked the lace away.
Somewhere between one kiss and the next, he muttered, “Sorry.”
“I’m not,” I gasped as he caught my arms, unhooking them from his neck and then pushing them back against the bed. He was so damn careful with my right one, it made my heart ache. But he also broke the kiss to push up and look down at me.
The way he stared at my breasts had me squirming. The vein in his forehead had begun to throb, and his pupils dilated enough to almost drown out the blue. When I arched my hips again to get him to move, he suddenly moved his free hand to my hip and locked me in place.
