As a massive eighties perm and pastel pink jacket with shoulder pads filled the screen, she rethought her original idea and wondered if perhaps a nap wouldn’t be the better option. Scooting down until her head was against the pillow, she unwrapped the chocolate bar and took a bite out of it.
Oh Jesus, that’s good. Almost good enough that she’d forgotten the orgasm Evan was still withholding from her. Well, almost.
Her eyes started to get heavy as she relaxed into the duvet, and as she stared at the ceiling fan above her, she thought about the woman Evan was on his way to see. She tried to convince him to rest first, but he’d said he was too wired to sleep. That was understandable. She was nervous for him, and it wasn’t even her mother. But as she popped the last piece of chocolate into her mouth, she closed her eyes and thought back to the first time she’d ever seen Mrs. Rockwell. It was a moment that had changed her life.
“Jenny!”
Jennifer stopped the jump rope from swinging overhead as her mother shouted her name again. She ran to the back door and flung open the screen. Stepping inside, she saw her mother halfway down the stairs clutching several curlers in her hand.
“Oh good, there you are. Can you go and let Rocky’s mother in? I just saw her pull up out the front, and I’m a mess.”
Jennifer grinned at her mom and nodded. “You aren’t a mess. You look pretty.”
“Jen, half my hair is done, and I’m in my nightgown. But thank you for saying that. You’re a sweet, sweet girl.”
As her mom turned and dashed back up the stairs, Jennifer skipped up the hall to the front door. Her brother and Rocky had gotten up early to ride down to the creek and catch fish. She’d begged them to let her go with them, but after the threat of frog throwing and mud fights, she’d wisely, in her opinion, opted to stay home.
When she got to the front door, she peered through the narrow panel of glass in the wood and saw a shiny red convertible parked in their driveway. It reminded her of the car she used to drive her Barbie around in. The one she’d told her mom she wanted when she grew up.
She pressed her face up to the glass, and the first thing she saw was a black, wide-brimmed hat and matching sunglasses so round they pretty much covered half the woman’s face. The car door pushed open then, and a long leg and a really, really high black heel appeared, only to vanish as it sank into the gravel of their drive. Then the woman got out of the car.
Jennifer’s eyes widened as the tall, willowy woman straightened and shut the door behind her. Her blond hair was pulled into a fancy ’do at the nape of her neck, so the hat could sit perfectly on top of her head. She had a white handbag looped over her right forearm and was wearing a black and white geometric pencil dress. On her hands she wore elegant white gloves, and there was a gold bracelet around one of her wrists that was catching the sun.
The lady was unlike anyone Jennifer had ever seen before. And in that moment, she wanted to grow up to be just like her.
Jennifer took a step back and pulled the front door open, wanting to get a better look at the woman walking toward their front door. She’d known Rocky’s family was different to theirs, but he’d always said how much he liked coming over. She had no idea why, if this was his mom, because as far as she could tell, she was beautiful like a movie star.
“Well, hello, young lady,” Mrs. Rockwell said, as she finally came to a standstill in front of her.
Jennifer tried to open her mouth and say hello back, always taught to respect your elders and mind your manners, but as she looked up at the woman all she could do was stare. The lady reached up and removed her sunglasses, and when her warm brown eyes seemed to smile down at her, Jennifer found herself beaming back.
“What’s your name?”
Jennifer giggled. “Jenny.”
“Jenny, is it?” she asked, and then gave her a quick look up and down. “Well, I think I’ll call you Jennifer. You look like a young lady to me. And all smart young ladies should have strong names.”
Absolutely enchanted by Rocky’s mom, Jennifer didn’t think before she blurted out, “What’s your name?”
“Audrey. Audrey Rockwell.” She straightened and gave a wink as she started to pull off her gloves. “Remember that name. It’s going to be famous one day.”
Jennifer looked up at Mrs. Rockwell, the sun beaming down on her, and thought she looked as though she were under a spotlight. As far as she was concerned, this woman was already a superstar.
* * *
THE WOMAN STANDING in front of Evan in the meeting area of the Oxford Federal Correctional Facility looked a helluva lot like the woman who raised him, but there was no light behind this woman’s dark eyes, no warmth to her complexion. Pale and tired, her golden hair faded to an ash blond, Audrey Rockwell stood before him in a slightly rumpled orange jumpsuit, her arms hesitantly outstretched as though she wasn’t sure what kind of greeting she should offer.
“Hi, Mom,” Evan said, and stepped forward to wrap his arms around her. As she returned his hug, the tension eased out of her body, and she gave him a light squeeze.
“You look good,” he told her when he pulled back.
“And you sound like your father. A master bullshitter.”
He winced at that as he waited for his mom to sit before pulling out the plastic folding chair on his side of the table. The last thing he wanted was comparisons to the man he’d cut ties with.
“Well, I’m not lying when I say you’ve got the better setup from what I can see,” Evan said, looking around at the freshly painted cerulean walls and fake potted plants in the corners. “Though it looks more like a retirement home than a prison.”
“It’ll be that too,” his mom said as she threaded her long fingers on the table. She cocked her head to the side, wisps of her fine hair falling from her shoulder to brush against her neck. “What are you doing all this way, Evan?”
“I just thought I’d take a drive down here to check on you.”
She nodded slowly, as though wondering whether or not to believe him. Assessing him through critical eyes, she said, “You look much better than the last time I saw you. Happy, even.”
“Happy…”
“Well? Are you?”
It’d been so long since happiness had been an option, he’d forgotten what it felt like. Was he?
“I’m trying,” he said.
“No doubt working with Bill helps.”
His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward with his arms on the table. “How did you know I was working for Bill?”
“I’m your mother. I know everything.”
“So who’s the master bullshitter now?”
She laughed, a long belly laugh. “What do you think landed me in here? Being honest?”
“How’d you know about Bill?”
“He told me.”
Evan stared at his mother, his brow raised. “He told you. What, during your weekly phone call?”
As he began to chuckle, she said, “Yes, actually.”
His laughter stopped. “What do you mean yes?”
“I thought you would’ve pieced it together by now, what with working for his company. Plucking you up out of the blue, giving you a second chance, not questioning your rather suspect lineage.”
Heat filled his face as his brain struggled to piece together what she was telling him. “Are you…are you telling me you had something to do with all this?”
“Of course not.”
“But?” he asked, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying.
With a sigh, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and said, “You must know it’s a small world you’re in.”
“Referring to my job, I suppose, and not the millions of people I’m surrounded by living in Manhattan. Is this your way of telling me you two are…what, friends?” He laughed again, finding that explanation hilarious. “I’ve already heard from your partner in crime what he thinks about Bill Kelman, so yeah. Okay, Mom.”
“I’m glad you find this amusing,” she said. “But I�
��ve always had a…differing opinion than your father when it comes to him.”
“What do you mean, a differing opinion?”
“Bill and I were…close.”
Evan’s eyes widened. What the hell is she talking about?
“The fuck do you mean close?”
His mom shrugged, as if she wasn’t opening a huge-ass can of worms. “If things hadn’t gone down the way they did, our lives would’ve been much different.”
“Jesus Christ, meaning what? And spare me the riddles. I didn’t drive nine hours to talk circles with you.”
But all talk of circles went out the damn window when she told him, “I think maybe you should discuss this with Bill.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE EXPRESSION ON Evan’s face when he walked into the hotel room later that afternoon was not one Reagan was expecting. Where she thought he’d be a bit down and out, instead he was a mixture of riled up and perplexed.
He leaned against the door, shaking his head and rolling up the sleeves of his grey collared shirt.
Reagan sat up from the bed, where she’d been napping, and rubbed her eyes. “Did something happen?”
Evan strolled into the room, running his hands through his hair. He looked agitated, and wasn’t replying. She crossed her legs under her and watched as he moved to the end of the bed to turn and sit down—his back to her, a wall firmly in place.
Well, that’s just terrific.
“Evan?” she tried again. And still he didn’t turn. She scooted down to the end of the bed and sat beside him, their shoulders and hips lined up with one another, and this time, when she said his name, she placed a hand on his thigh. “Evan? What happened?”
He took in a breath so deep she saw his shoulders rise and then fall again. He must’ve been tired, having driven the entire way. And where she’d been able to lie down and get some rest, he’d chosen to go straight over to see his mother.
She was about to open her mouth and try again, when Evan finally turned to her and spoke. “Just the usual bullshit when it comes to my parents.”
“Talk to me.”
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That Bill and my mom are close.”
“They’re…what? Define close.”
Evan shook his head. “You know, somewhere in the back of my mind, I always wondered how my grandparents paid for it all. The private schools, the car I got when I passed my driver’s test. They weren’t rich people, and any money in the family disappeared when my parents got busted. Makes sense now.”
“I’m not following. What does that have to do with Bill?”
Evan’s eyes pierced through hers. “That’s what I plan to ask him.” He didn’t touch her, other than where she had her hand on his leg, but when she moved in closer he shook his head. “It’s probably best if you don’t—”
“Don’t what?” she interrupted, knowing he was about to block her out. “Show that I care? Is that what you were about to say?”
His eyes narrowed, and then he turned away from her. “Something like that. Reagan, this…whatever this is between us, it can’t be what you want it to be. I’m not the same boy I was back then. I’m so fucked up. I mean, you’re sitting in a fucking hotel room waiting for me while I visit my mother in prison.”
He got to his feet and walked away from her to the small window. “What they did back then, to your family—hell, to all the fucking people who trusted them—it took its toll. It took its toll on me. I changed because of them, and I can never go back.”
Reagan stood also, ready to somehow try and comfort him, tell him he was wrong… But is he? Am I crazy for thinking that we could have anything more than a few quick fucks? Is our past too complicated to ever uncomplicate that?
“I don’t want the boy from back then,” she said, and slowly moved toward him. His back was still facing her, and she wondered if she was brave enough to really lay her feelings out for him to see. But if she didn’t at least try, then how would she ever know? When she was directly behind him, with only inches to spare, she placed her palm on his back and whispered, “I want the man who’s here now.”
“Reagan—”
“Tell me you haven’t thought about me.”
A long silence went by before he said, “I haven’t lied to you, and I won’t. Not now. Not ever.”
Reagan received that message loud and clear. He was telling her he hadn’t touched anyone since the night he’d been with her.
She rested her head between his shoulder blades and summoned up every ounce of courage she had to speak the words she’d kept locked away behind a wall of self-preservation and pride.
“Please,” she said, closing her eyes. “Please don’t push me away.”
His shuddering breath beneath her cheek was the only response he gave, and when she wrapped her arms around his waist, his hand grabbed both of hers like he was going to do exactly what she asked him not to—push her away.
But then he sighed and turned around to face her. His fingers trailed the side of her face, and she leaned into them. “What is it you see…” he said, echoing the words he’d spoken before when she’d been looking at him through a camera lens.
She reached up and intertwined her fingers with his before softly kissing the tips of them. He looked at her with hunger in his eyes, but there was something else there too. Something that should’ve scared her, but instead had her wanting more.
With his hands cradling her face, he ever so slowly brought his lips down to meet hers. It was soft, sensual, and when their mouths met, Reagan swore her knees almost gave out. She’d never seen this side of Evan before. Usually when they came together it was fast, passionate, and full of fire. But as his tongue slid between her lips and rubbed against hers, she moaned at the seductive caress.
She brought their entwined hands down to her side, and when she released his fingers, he wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her body in close to his.
“God, Reagan,” he whispered, when he raised his head to look down at her. “I need…”
When he trailed off, she shook her head and urged him to continue. “What do you need?”
He licked his lower lip, and she could tell he was trying to decide how much to say. Then he lowered his head, pressed a kiss to her ear, and said, “To be the man you see when you look at me like you are now.”
She turned her head, and when their eyes connected she asked, “And who’s that?”
“The man who deserves your heart.”
* * *
EVAN CAPTURED REAGAN’S lips before she could respond, and when her hands moved up to encircle his neck, the swell of her breasts pressed against his chest. He ran his hands down her sides to her ass, and when he squeezed and hoisted her off the ground, she wrapped her legs around his waist.
Her fingers speared through the hair at the back of his neck, and as she deepened the kiss, he couldn’t help the groan that escaped his throat.
Fuck, she’s sweet. Her taste, her smell, and, most of all, her heart.
He turned around and lowered her to the bed, and as her brown curls fanned out around her, he thought she’d never looked more beautiful than she did in that moment. She smiled up at him and slowly spread her legs. Then she crooked her finger at him, and the invitation was more than he could resist.
He stepped between her thighs and placed a knee on the mattress. Then he moved down over her to put his palms by either side of her head.
“Kiss me,” she said, and his mouth curved into a smile to match hers.
“What’s the magic word?”
Her eyes held a mischievous twinkle as they moved to his lips before coming back up to meet his. “Now?”
He grinned and gave her lips a quick kiss and said against them, “See, sometimes your sassy answers are just perfect.”
“Oh yeah?”
He trailed his tongue along her lower lip, sampling her, and then replied, “Oh yeah.”
Evan dip
ped his tongue in between her lips, unable to stop himself from tasting her. One thing they’d always seemed to skip when rushing to the finish line was this part. The meeting of mouths, the mingling of breath, and as she sighed and the sound drifted between them, he thought, the mutual pleasure of savoring another.
Reagan’s hands came up to touch his sides, and when they smoothed over his ass, he ground his hips down, rubbing his erection against the denim she was wearing. Her fingers dug in as she pulled him down, and when she arched up into him, he lifted his lips from hers.
Her eyes were dilated as she opened them to focus on him, and her lips were ruby red from his kisses. When she bit into her lush lower lip and trailed her fingers around to the button of his jeans, he raised his hips in an effort to assist her. She made quick work of the button and his zipper before pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down past his hips. He pulled his wallet out of the back pocket and grabbed a condom, then tossed the foil packet on the bed and removed the clothing Reagan had been trying to rid him of. Kneeling between her spread thighs, he began to unbutton his shirt as her hands went to the front of her jeans. He watched her flick open the button and slowly unzip, and then she brushed her fingers over the pink panties she was wearing underneath. When Reagan’s hand disappeared inside her jeans, a low growl escaped his throat, and she smiled before pulling her hand back out. Then she sat up and removed her sweater, leaving her ample cleavage showcased in a pink bra that had his mouth watering. She moved his hands away from his shirt and took over undressing him, moving up to her knees so they were nose to nose.
As she leaned in closer and bit his lobe, he groaned. “Reagan…”
His hands slid down her waist, pushing her jeans and panties down as they continued their trail of her body. After she’d pushed off his shirt and tossed it on the floor, he did the same with the clothes needlessly covering the lower half of her beautiful figure. She caught his lips again as she knelt in front of him, his hands sliding under the straps of her bra before unfastening and removing it completely. When she was bare beneath his hands, he pulled her tighter against him, his tongue exploring every inch of her mouth, and fuck, she tasted like heaven. Like something he’d heard existed but something he never thought he’d be able to attain.
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