by Finn, Emilia
“Not taking you home,” he grumbles. He pushes his hat off and tosses it beside the picnic basket, then his fingers link with mine and his eyes remain not on the stars, but on my face. “I asked for this date, and you agreed. I’m not taking you anywhere till I get my fill, because fuck knows if you’ll ever agree to this again. I mean, why would you?” He huffs. “The best I offered is sitting on the ground eating cold chicken and carrot sticks. You must be so fuckin’ impressed.”
“Eric…” I turn to meet his eyes. “Shut up. Stop ruining this for me.”
He wants to pick me up and toss me back into his truck. He wants to impress me with candlelight, but has no clue that there are billions of them above us, if only he’d look.
After a long, charged moment, he huffs again and turns back to the sky. “Fine. Tell me something about you. Something real, but not something you don’t like about yourself.”
“Um…” His question brings me up short, since my whole world has revolved around teenage pregnancy, which isn’t something I particularly love about myself. I love my son, but my choices were dumb. “Uhh… I love to cook?”
He chuckles and turns back to study my profile. “Is that a question?”
“No. I really do love to cook.” I play with his fingers and think back to a lifetime ago. “I was hosting tea parties since I was two and never stopped after that. I was the fourteen-year-old who invited her friends over so I could cook and serve. We were young, and my friends probably wanted to be outside flirting with boys or whatever, but they still came to my home when I asked because I cooked really nice meals.” I think back to my apron, frilly and silly. “I just wanted to make people smile with food. But everyone stopped coming over once I hooked up with Zeke. I haven’t hosted much of anything in a long time, and the most extravagant meals I cook now include burgers with homemade relish.”
“But not lemon zesty sauce?”
I laugh. “Definitely not. Lemon zest is just the relish’s hooker cousin pretending to wear fancy shoes. Relish takes actual skill, cooking, testing, tasting.” I meet his eyes. “You’ll be eating relish for the rest of your damn life, because if you step out and order the slut burger, you won’t live a day beyond that anyway.”
I love the way his lip curls up in silent laughter and the way his eyes flicker and scan my face. He reaches across me and snags a carrot stick. Dipping it, he brings it to my lips and allows me to take a bite. “Now I can serve you.” He follows the carrot with a kiss. “For tonight only,” he whispers, “let me serve you. Then tomorrow, we can argue over the slut burger.”
I chew as elegantly as I can with a man just two inches from my mouth. “Okay.”
He grins. “Okay. Now tell me something else. Something from your heart.”
“Uhh…” From my heart. “Okay. Well, when you say heart, you make me think of my son and my daddy. And since you already know Mac, I’ll tell you about George.”
He smiles as though to say go on and offers another carrot stick.
“George Blair is probably my best friend in the whole world. Not the kind of best friend where I told him I had a date tonight, or that I’m regularly hooking up with you in dark places, but the kind who would support me no matter my choices. He’d do anything to make me happy or safe. He was straight up bad news when he was a teen, so he knows how to whack a dude with a pipe and walk away. He was raised on Eazy-E, Mac Dre, and Ice-T.” I meet his eyes with faux intensity. “Daddy’s got ninety-nine problems, but his daughter having a boyfriend ain’t one of them.”
“Jesus.” Eric chuckles. “Eazy, too?” He taps his temples. “I’m taking notes and watching my back. I’m not fucking with an OG gangster. They’re the worst kind.” He pauses and studies me with sparkling eyes. “Mac looks like your dad. And the way he speaks to me is kinda reminiscent of the rappers of the nineties, no?”
I laugh, reveling in the way my stomach hurts because I’ve been doing so much of it lately. I don’t remember the last time I smiled so much. “He really does look like my dad. The genes are strong in our family, and apparently, so is the behavior. I don’t know a single Blair who isn’t headstrong, stubborn, and annoying as hell.”
Eric leans forward and drops a gentle kiss on my lips. “Me neither.”
I smack his shoulder but say nothing, since I walked straight into it. “Okay, so George Blair…rumor has it, before I was born, he was pretty wild. Racing cars, bedding women, drinking too much, all that sorta stuff. He had friends and a whole life before me. But when he met my mom, apparently it all went away.” I lift my hands in front of me in a gentle shooing motion. “It was like fog clearing under a sunny sky; he pulled his shit together and straightened up for her.”
“What was your mom’s name?”
“Leah.” I smile. “She was a girl he knew when he was a little younger, but she moved away and never gave him a second thought. Once she was gone, and he thought she was never coming back, he went on with his womanizing ways.”
“But she came back. Was it love at second sight?” He chuckles.
“I think it was unrequited love at first sight, to be honest. I think she was his true north all along, and he was floating, aimless the whole time he was without her. She came back for some reason, so he figured, now or never. He romanced the shit out of her, and voila, here I am.”
Laughing, he pushes up onto his elbow and faces me. His stubble is a week’s worth of growth, but trimmed and neat. His lips are moist and remind me they know exactly how to make me beg for more. But his eyes, they’re watchful. They see everything, and as he studies me closely, he makes me nervous.
“She’s not around anymore? Your mom?”
“No, she died a few years ago. They kept saying how they only had one kid because they hit the jackpot first time around and never needed to try again.” I nibble on my bottom lip in thought. “It’s a cute story to tell, but Daddy doesn’t mention the part about ovarian cancer. Like if he doesn’t say it, then it isn’t true.”
And just like that, Eric’s dancing eyes darken with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I reach across him and take back my wine. “She was actually a living miracle. She lived much longer than they said she would. So between treatments and work, our little family kind of just holed up together and enjoyed our time as a unit. The friends Daddy had from his wild years kind of fell away as everyone got busy with their own things. Barbecue invitations stopped coming because the answer was often no. Not because he didn’t love his friends, but because if Mom wasn’t feeling up to it, there was no chance in hell Daddy would leave her so he could have a burger and a beer. His friends had kids before he did, so they were already busy. One of his best friends in the whole world, his housemate from forever ago, like, the guy he’d lay his life down for, died in a car accident in his thirties. And that sent Daddy into a kind of spiral. The kind of spiral that might include drugs or alcohol or whatever for some men, but for Daddy, it meant he had to spend as much time with Mom as possible, no matter what.” My black sense of humor raises its ugly head. “I always wondered if she let go in the end just to get some ‘me’ time.”
Thankfully, Eric chuckles and doesn’t consider me a total freak.
“George Blair was insanely in love with his wife, and she was sick for a long time. It wore on him, so in the end, I wonder if it was almost a kind of relief.” I meet Eric’s eyes. “You know what I mean? Relief that the exhaustion could end, that the sickness could be put to rest. He didn’t want her to go, but at the same time, he was tired. She was tired. We were all so tired.”
I take a slow sip to give myself a chance to breathe. To break up my sad story with something else. “I was so sheltered my whole life, I swear; I was born in that apartment. Literally,” I add when his eyes widen. “And I’d barely left. We were just inside people, busy soaking up every minute of each other. The only world I knew outside of that apartment was school, so when this bad boy swaggered in and smiled at me, I figured that was m
y chance. My daddy was a bad boy, and my mom tamed him, so I kinda figured this was the beginning of my own great romance.” I snort. “Not so. My daddy lived kinda dangerously, but he was never a bum. Whereas Zeke was straight up stupid, but not so stupid that he couldn’t see I was an easy target. So… I slept with an idiot… Just because. ” I shrug. “And that’s how we got Mac.”
I blow out a laughing breath. “Wow, you said to tell you something good. Uh… My point through all of my rambles was that my dad is my best friend, because even though I hurt him, even though I disappointed him, and even after my mom passed, and he was kinda broken, he still picked me up. He helps us march on. Because forward is the only direction we can go. He’s never judged me. He never coddles me because he knows it would piss me off. He’s there if I ever need help; he’s my confidant–”
“But not about your dating life,” Eric interrupts.
I laugh. “Right. Definitely not about that. There are some things he doesn’t need to know about me.”
“Like how you like when I do that thing with my tongue?” He lifts his brows and quirks a grin.
I blush. I can’t stop the heat that rushes to my face any more than I can stop the pulse in my panties. “Yeah, things like that. He definitely doesn’t need to know that sort of stuff. Uh…” I literally fan my face in an attempt to focus, which makes Eric chuckle.
“Sorry. Go on,” he urges, but his grin remains.
“Um…” I cough to clear my throat. “Uh…?”
“You were talking about your dad.”
“Oh! Right.” I hate that I continue to blush under Eric’s teasing gaze. “Daddy… he’s my babysitter if I’m desperate, but he doesn’t force himself into my space. He’s perfect, really, because he builds me up every single day, and never makes me feel stupid because I made stupid choices.”
Eric processes my words with a frown marking his forehead. “I don’t think you made stupid choices.” He leans forward and drops a gentle kiss on my lips. “I mean, getting into a car with Zeke wasn’t the smartest thing you ever did, but you were just a kid, and I swear, I don’t know a single person who hasn’t made a choice like that.”
“Well, sure, everyone has done something like that at one point or another. The difference is I have a living, breathing reminder of my choice. It’s just more obvious, I guess.”
“That doesn’t nullify the fact everyone does the same thing. Your kid is funny, Katrina. He’s smart, witty, wears a whole lot of your crazy.”
I smack his chest. “I’m not crazy.”
“Those lemon zesty bitches are a real threat for you then?”
Mid-sip of my tasty wine, I snicker and dribble a line of the chilled liquid over my chin. I bring a hand up to swipe it away, but Eric catches my hand, leans in close and licks up my mess. “You Blairs are like wild animals,” he whispers. “Nobody contains you; nobody trains you, and nothing will make you conform.”
“Except maybe the Leahs of the world.” I breathe out a deep sigh. “Mom slowed my dad’s party train to a standstill. Whoever Mac’s Leah is will have her hands full.”
“She’ll figure it out when they get there. But for now,” he drops another kiss on my jaw, then a second and a third, “I’ll enjoy my ride with my own Blair.” When I stiffen, he shakes his head and drops another kiss on the corner of my lips. “I’m not looking to contain you. But I’ll enjoy the wild bucking while I got it.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment.”
He scoffs. “You have no idea. If I was smart, I’d know to stay far, far away.”
“Because we’re too much?” My heart races, and the ache literally makes me tense. “Am I too much baggage?”
“No.” He drops another kiss on my lips. “I just meant I should know not to get involved with a woman. I don’t mean you in particular, but any woman. Ever. Because it usually hurts.”
“But that’s why we’re doing this.” I point between us and try to stave off the panic that claws inside my stomach. What was once butterflies are now cruel claws that mercilessly slice me up. “Sex. No feelings. No hurt.” Say it, repeat it, believe it. “You won’t get hurt so long as you follow the rules.”
“Right.” He presses a kiss to my lips. “And for as long as we follow the rules, you won’t get hurt either. So stop panicking. I can feel your heart race.”
Swallowing the last of my wine in one large gulp, I toss my glass aside, then push Eric back so I can straddle his thighs. “I’m not shopping for more man trouble.” Say it, repeat it, believe it. “Which is why this is perfect. Sex, no feelings, no trouble.” I rub myself over his hardened crotch and smile when I find what I was looking for. “We’re two consenting adults; we like sex; apparently we do it well, seeing as we both come every single time, and then you go back to being a customer when the sun comes up.”
“The perfect solution.” He groans when I lift up and unsnap his belt. Laying his head back and lifting his hips so I can move his jeans down just a little, he helps me position us both and offers up a condom from his pocket so I can put it on for him.
Slowly, I roll the rubber down over his dick and smile when that alone makes the veins in his neck stand out. Panting and lifting his hips, he searches for warmth, bruising my thighs with his hands when I slide on and swallow him up. “Fuck!”
“Jesus.” I slump forward when he pushes up and impales me. The tip of his cock touches me deep inside, then his strong hands move me, so I only have to exist, and he fucks me from below. My dress remains on, my panties pushed to the side, and when he sits up with a fast grunt, our lips clash and his breath intoxicates me.
He has this magical ability to make me forget. It doesn’t last forever, and reality always crashes down onto my shoulders before an hour is up – and an hour is being generous – but for the time we’re joined, he consumes me; he helps me be someone else. Perhaps the someone I would have been had I never climbed into Zeke’s stupid car.
With one hand on my hip and the other in my hair with a painfully tight hold, Eric’s teeth nip and his hips slam from beneath me. I couldn’t ask him to stop even if I wanted to. It’s too much; he feels incredible, and each time he pushes up, his grunt against my mouth fuels my fire.
The stars twinkle above us, and if I were a romantic, I’d wonder if a certain pairing was being made.
Unlike my first time with Zeke, there are no fireworks shooting off above our heads, but scarily, they’re present in my mind. Eric seduces me with his mouth, with his rough hands, but with gentle care. When I become nothing more than a whimpering mess of sensitive nerves, he grunts, flips us, and slides over me with a smug grin.
That fucking smug grin; I should have known the first time I saw it that I was in love.
Dammit!
Eric glides over me with smooth strokes, leans in, and swallows my panting breath. “You’re so beautiful.” He pulls out, then slides in again as I bring my legs around his hips. “You’re so amazing.” He nips my bottom lip and inhales my gasped cry. “So strong. So smart. So perfect.”
I break our kiss and turn my head away. His body continues moving over mine, but worse, so much worse, is his heart racing above mine. I feel it pulse. I feel mine respond in kind. I study the town’s lights and allow him to ride me to completion, and the whole time, I try to repel his words.
“You’re so beautiful.” His tongue plays with my neck. It’s pleasure and pain… just like my fragile heart. “I dreamed of you, Katrina. I dreamed of us.”
“Go harder.” I can’t allow him to steal this from me. I can’t let him take my love and risk breaking me. But tears come to my eyes, because I think he already did. I wasn’t ready for his stealthy attack; I wasn’t willing to give him a piece of me. But now it’s too late, and what was supposed to be fucking becomes lovemaking. “Go deeper.”
“Mmm.” His pace changes smoothly, his glides timed so he slams in and nips at my jaw in the same beat. I feel him all over, his strong arms resting on each side of my head, his st
ubbled jaw moving over my flesh, and the tags on the chain around his neck dangling in my cleavage, the cold steel providing a contrast to my feverish skin.
Blinking moisture from my eyes, I glance up and catch sight of the stars above us. I let my strangled orgasm come when Eric’s does, when he drags me over the ledge with an animalistic roar and bruises my skin with his intensity. It should hurt, but I can’t stop my release any more than I can stop the star that shoots across the sky above us.
Shit.
18
Mac
Saturday morning, Ben and I stop at my front door before the sun has barely cracked over the hills. “Just wait here a sec.” I push him back a step. “I’ll be right out.”
“Yeah, okay. But you gotta hustle, Blair. We wanna hit ten miles before the Rollers do breakfast.” He checks his watch. “We have an hour at the most before they eat everything.”
I rub the soft ache in my leg and nod. I slept on the damn floor all night, with nothing more beneath me than the three-quarter-inch rubber mats we bleed and sweat on. The weather is cooling, which means my leg is stiff as fuck, and there’s no way we’re going to hit Benny’s ten miles in an hour. But that won’t stop us from trying. I have a world championship belt to win, and eating bacon and eggs on the gym floor isn’t what I need to do to achieve those goals.
“I got it,” I whisper. I unlock my front door and slide through a small crack I make, then silently close it again as Ben leans back to rest against the hallway wall. I move through my living room in complete silence, tilting my head when I find my mom’s heels kicked beneath the couch. She’s always so neat, so her shoes not being put away stands out in my mind, but not enough to distract me from my plans.
