The Mitchell Sisters: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  Her breasts heave into my hands as I wash them. Her rosy nipples are hard under my fingers; her breath hitching when my thumbs rake over them. “My turn,” I say with a wry grin.

  I pull her against me, and in one swift movement, I reverse our positions and hoist her hips up onto the ledge of the tub. I press her back into the wall before I get up on my knees and worship her breasts with my mouth. I tease and tantalize her stiff peaks while she gazes down on me in appreciation. Pleasuring her while she watches me makes this whole experience better. Hotter. More real.

  She spreads her thighs in invitation and my fingers find her sex. She’s saturated with both her own juices and the bathwater. I reach a hand around her back, pulling myself close to her as I steady her in place. My mouth follows a seductive trail from her chest down across her taut belly until it joins my fingers at her center.

  I’m fully aroused again at the very sight of her—glistening with want of me. My eyes divide their time between watching her face and watching my fingers penetrate her. Her hips rock when I drag my tongue over her quivering clit. Her hands toy with my hair, tugging it furiously when my fingers hit just the right spot inside her. I focus all of my energy on that precise location as my tongue continues to lave her.

  Her legs tighten and the tips of her fingers scrape across my back, heightening my arousal with her punishing nails. My groin jerks in greedy expectation when she throws her head back and rides my tongue as she convulses with pleasure around my fingers.

  Before her body even finishes shuddering, I’ve put on the condom and am pulling her down into the water so she’s straddling me. We look deep into each other as she sheaths me with her. She gasps as I fill her completely, touching the very end of her. Her mouth comes down hard on mine, joining our bodies in so many places, I can’t tell where I end and she begins.

  This indescribable kiss. This surreal connection. It’s like coming home. It’s fucking paradise. I pull back to see that she feels it, too. Tears fill her eyes and I can almost see the light overflowing from her soul.

  She’s healing. With every kiss we share and every touch she allows, she exorcises more of her demons.

  She takes total control, working herself upon me. Her petite, slender body begins to rock back and forth on mine as I thank God that this glorious creature came into my life. My heart thunders and emotions saturate me when I realize this woman is mine.

  I want her to feel every single sensation I’m feeling. Inside and out. Spurred by the frantic need building deep inside me, I reach a hand between us and rub slow circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves as she rides me.

  Her raspy breathing and strained moans drive me harder as my other hand helps to control her thrusts upon me. I can’t stop my long ragged groan of release when I feel her clench and tighten around me. Her orgasm tears through me, plunging us simultaneously into the depths of pleasure as we call out to each other with guttural cries of ecstasy.

  I hold her tightly against me, my body curving protectively around hers, our heartbeats racing as she burrows her head into my neck. We stay like this, flesh on flesh—wet, warm and soft—as we slowly calm our breaths.

  A surge of extreme emotion assaults me and I know my life has forever changed because of her presence in it. I never want to be without her—without this—ever again.

  So I tell her. In every way possible.

  Over and over.

  chapter thirty-one

  piper

  I stare down at his phone. The information I have at my fingertips is astounding. It’s a window into one’s soul.

  I fight the urge to pick it up. Look through his pictures. Read his texts. It would be so wrong. But in some way, I feel he expects it of me. Like giving me his phone was an invitation into his deep, dark secrets. Maybe it’s his way of telling me how much he trusts me; how much he loves me. Maybe the way I prove the same thing to him is by not letting curiosity get the better of me.

  I turn the phone face down on my nightstand and let my mind wander to earlier.

  After our bath we laid in bed. He cuddled up behind me as we brainstormed ‘safe’ places to make love. Pretty much any surface in the bathroom, kitchen or living room made the list.

  I can’t believe I was talking with a man about sex and smiling about it. Laughing even. How he has truly changed my life is staggering.

  I twist the charm on my bracelet—for the first time not out of anxiousness, but in wonder. In hopes that she will one day find a man as incredible as Mason.

  My attention is drawn back to the nightstand where his phone vibrates once, indicating a text. It’s done this several times since he left earlier.

  I know he wanted to stay. I could see it written all over him. But he never asked. And for that I was grateful. I need time and he’s giving it to me. Not to mention we’re both pretty jet-lagged despite the early hour. After all, it’s well past midnight in Barcelona.

  When he left, just before seven o’clock, he said he was going for a quick run at the gym before heading home. Then the plan is to meet at Mitchell’s NYC for Sunday brunch where he’ll bring me a new phone. How he’s going to manage purchasing a new one before noon on a Sunday is beyond me. I guess he has connections or something. Maybe this is all part of the stuff he said I would have to get used to if I’m going to be with a famous athlete.

  When his cell hums once more, I resist the urge to turn it over and peek at the text. Instead, I head downstairs to get a snack before turning in for some much needed sleep.

  On my way, I pass Aaron’s nursery. I flick the light on and let my eyes travel around the room. I take in the crib, decorated with muted tones of blue and green; the rocking chair that has a matching blanket carefully laid across the back; the changing table that has tiny outfits of all colors folded on the shelves beneath it. I stare at the collection of family pictures on the wall.

  I make a decision right now to hold Aaron the next time I see him. To pick him up and study his little face; smell his sweet baby scent; touch his tiny hands.

  Then maybe I can even work my way up to Jordan.

  I look in the mirror over Aaron’s dresser and wonder, not for the first time since I’ve been back, if my baby looks like her. Like Jordan. After all, Baylor and I could sometimes pass for twins if not for our age and slight cosmetic differences. I touch the tiny piercing on my nose and glance at my black hair tips. Of course, Jordan is only eight months old and my daughter is more than five years old. But in my mind, she’ll always be the pink and perfect newborn I got to hold for those precious minutes before I gave her away.

  I turn around and exit the room, switching off the light on my way out. I need to eat and sleep.

  Tomorrow I can take care of the rest.

  ~ ~ ~

  Incessant buzzing wakes me from sleep. Exhausted, I look at the clock, disappointed to see it’s half past eight and I’ve only been sleeping for a few minutes. Someone is calling Mason. I pull the pillow over my head and let it roll to voicemail, not daring to answer his phone.

  Seconds later it dances across the bedside table with another call. This time, I pick it up and glance at the screen to see it’s not a number from his contacts. I have no idea who’s calling him. I put the phone down again and roll back over.

  It vibrates again. I sigh, reaching over to shut it off. But I notice it’s the same number that has already called twice. Someone really wants to reach him. Maybe it’s Janice Greyson. I lazily smile thinking he might not have her saved as a contact.

  Then I wonder if it’s not Mason who’s getting the call—but me. Maybe Mason is trying to call me from home. Does he even have a landline there?

  With a pang of traitorous guilt, I swipe my finger across the screen to answer. “Hello?”

  “Oh, thank God,” a young girl’s voice belts out nervously. “Is this Mason Lawrence’s phone?”

  I sit up in bed, protective of my new boyfriend. Some fangirl has gotten his private number. “Who is this and how did you get th
is number?”

  I hear tender cries and squeals of pain coming from her end of the phone. “I need Mr. Lawrence,” she begs. “There’s been an accident and I can’t get a hold of Ms. Whitmeyer.”

  “Ms. Whitmeyer?” My mind cycles through an index of who I know. “Oh, you mean Cassidy?”

  All at once everything clicks together.

  Nervous teenager. Wails of a child in pain. Accident.

  “What happened? Is Hailey okay? Where are you?” I belt out in panic-driven succession.

  “She fell down the stairs. I’m only the sitter. I just got here. I didn’t even know the gate was open. I can’t reach her mom. Is he there? What do I do? Should I call 911? Can you help me—”

  “Stop!” I yell through her frantic ramblings. “What’s your name?”

  “A-Amanda,” she stutters.

  “Amanda, you need to calm down or you can’t help her. Where are you?”

  “At Cassidy’s . . . uh, Ms. Whitmeyer’s apartment.” She rattles off the address of a building I’m familiar with. Skylar lived there when I came back for Baylor’s wedding last year. I stayed with her. It’s within blocks of a hospital.

  I still hear Hailey’s cries so I know she’s conscious. “Is she bleeding?”

  “There’s a cut on her head above her eye and she’s holding her arm.”

  In my mind I try to calculate the time it might take for an ambulance to get there. I make a split-second decision. “Amanda, I’m Piper Mitchell, Mason’s girlfriend. He’s not here right now, but I want you to listen to me. You need to take her to Lenox Hill Hospital. It’s only two blocks from where you are. Hang up and take her to their emergency room right now. I’ll find Mason and meet you there. Do you understand?”

  “O-Okay. I think I can do that,” she says tentatively.

  “Amanda!” I command her attention. “You just take care of that little girl. I’ll find Mason and Cassidy.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she says, right before I disconnect the call.

  I leap out of bed and pull on some clothes that are still neatly folded in my dresser, never having had a chance to pack them in my haste to leave New York. I put my messy hair into a ponytail and pick the phone up off the bed when unease strikes me.

  Oh, God. Did I do the right thing? What if she has a neck injury and Amanda moving her is a terrible idea? I take a deep breath and call Baylor as I go downstairs.

  “Shouldn’t you be otherwise occupied at this hour?” she asks, laughing through her greeting.

  “Baylor, you have to go to Mason’s apartment and get him.” I grab my purse off the table and dart out the front door. I’m surprised to see the sun has just now set, the sky still a purplish hue of brilliant colors. I realize my body clock is still out of whack, having traveled to Spain and back in less than a week.

  “Find him? God, Piper—you’ve been back together for one day and already you’re fighting?” She huffs an exasperated big-sister sigh into the phone.

  “No, we’re fine. He left hours ago, but he left his phone with me. I have no way to contact him.” I run out of breath, talking too quickly while my feet propel me as fast as they can towards the subway. “It’s Hailey. There’s been an accident. She fell down the stairs and the sitter can’t reach Cassidy.”

  Baylor draws in a sharp breath. “Oh my God. What can we do?”

  “Go find Mason. He was going for a run at the gym but he should be home by now. Do you know the address?”

  I hear her relaying information to others in the background. “Skylar does. We’ll call Gavin and leave right now. But, Piper, why aren’t you going to find him?”

  “I’m going to Lenox Hill to meet Hailey and the sitter.”

  “Good. Good,” she says, pride coming through in her voice. “I’ll call you when we find him. You’re doing the right thing, little sister. You can do this.”

  It takes me twenty minutes to get to the hospital. Twenty minutes that feels like an eternity. She’s not even two years old yet. In fact, I’m pretty sure her birthday is next week. What if she’s badly injured? It will devastate Mason.

  I call Cassidy from Mason’s phone. It rolls to voicemail. I don’t tell her who’s calling, but it won’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. “Cassidy, get to Lenox Hill Hospital as soon as you get this. Hailey’s had a fall.” What else could I say? I don’t have any more information.

  Running into the emergency room, I barrel past people waiting to register. “I need to find a little girl,” I say to the nurse behind the glass partition. “Hailey Lawrence. Is she here yet? Is she okay?”

  The nurse, who is obviously overwhelmed by this Saturday-night influx of people, gives me an annoyed look.

  “Are you Piper?” a voice calls from behind me. I turn around and gasp at what I see. A girl, who can’t be more than sixteen, has blood all over her shirt.

  “Amanda?” In absolute horror, my wide eyes trace the smeared blood that spans her chest and stains her arm. My hand meets my chest, my heartbeat thundering against my palm. “Oh, God. I thought you said she just had a cut.”

  “She did. She does.” She stares down at her clothes as if just now realizing how bad it looks. “Hailey was scared. She was crying and rubbing her head on my shirt as I carried her here. I think it looks worse than it is. At least I hope so.” Her eyes fall to the floor. “I had just arrived at Ms. Whitmeyer’s place. I was only there for five minutes. It’s my first time sitting for her. I swear I didn’t even know there was a gate, or that it was open. I went to put my books down and she walked away for a second. One second.”

  I pat her back. “It’s not your fault, Amanda. The gate should have been closed and you should have known about it. Is Hailey okay? Where did they take her and why aren’t you with her?”

  “They took her back a few minutes ago. They wouldn’t let me go with her. Plus, I don’t think it would have helped. She doesn’t know me. She kept screaming for her Mama and Dada.”

  I turn around and ask the perturbed nurse at the desk, “Can I please get some information about Hailey Lawrence?”

  She shuffles around a few clipboards before turning her attention to me. “That’s not my job, Miss. Somebody should be out shortly. But unless you’re family, it won’t matter anyway. Are you family?”

  I ignore her question and point behind me. “I’ll be right over here. Please have them come get me.”

  Nurse Ratched doesn’t acknowledge me, going back to handing out forms to the increasingly large line of people before her.

  Amanda and I find an empty bench, parking ourselves as close to the front counter as we can get. “We should call Hailey’s grandmother,” I say, remembering Cassidy once said she would stay with her on occasion. “Do you have her number?”

  Amanda gives me a deer-in-headlights look. She shakes her head. “I’m locked out now. All of the emergency numbers were on the refrigerator. Mr. Lawrence was the next one down after Ms. Whitmeyer’s number. But the front door locks when you shut it. I forgot about that when we left. All my stuff is still there.” She fidgets with the seam on her jeans. “Do you think I’ll be in trouble?”

  I look at her and see how scared she is. I almost forgot she’s just a kid herself. “How old are you, Amanda?”

  “I turned fifteen last week.”

  I remember fifteen. Fifteen was good. Carefree. Fun. And I was babysitting Maddox a lot of the time, who was about as old as Hailey is now. I put a reassuring hand on her knee. “No, you won’t be in trouble. It was an accident.”

  She takes a deep breath, swallowing her relief. Then she narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t you have Hailey’s grandmother’s number? I mean if you’re Mr. Lawrence’s girlfriend and all.”

  “Yeah, well that’s a fairly new designation.” I look down at my phone. Mason’s phone. I scroll through the contacts hoping to find another Whitmeyer. No luck.

  “I’m looking for the family of Hailey Lawrence.”

  I spring to my feet at the words, looking ov
er to see they came from an older male doctor. He’s got longish hair, like he’s not had time for a decent cut lately. Lines that reveal his age dent his forehead, and his white doctor coat sits over a wrinkled t-shirt of a sixties band. Not very professional if you ask me. Maybe he was called in on his night off.

  He’s not smiling.

  Shit.

  I almost trample a few people in the waiting area on my way over to him. Amanda follows closely behind me.

  “Me,” I say, trying to look like I belong here. “I’m with Hailey Lawrence.”

  He eyeballs me, taking in my nose piercing, my messy ponytail and my clothing that I didn’t bother to color-coordinate in my haste to leave the townhouse. “And you are?” he asks with a raised brow.

  “Piper Mitchell,” I say, leaving it at that.

  “Your relationship to the patient?”

  I sigh, glancing over at Nurse Ratched. “Um . . . I’m her father’s girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend,” he says flatly. “I’m sorry, young lady. I can’t discuss a patient with anyone but family.”

  I look at the phone in my hand, willing it to ring with news that Mason is on the way—Cassidy even. “I have her dad’s phone,” I say blindly, as if that somehow qualifies me as family.

  He gives me a hard, unwavering stare.

  “He gave it to me because I lost mine,” I explain desperately. “And now he doesn’t have one and I’m trying to find him. I mean, I have sisters who are out looking for him. And Cassidy, uh, Hailey’s mom, is out and also can’t be reached.” I gesture to Amanda, who is still standing behind me. “Hailey’s babysitter brought her in. Please, can you tell us if she’s okay?”

  He shakes his head and pulls a business card from his coat pocket. “I’m sorry, Piper, is it?” He hands me the card. “Have her mom or dad track me down when they arrive.”

  Someone comes through the double doors behind him and I hear a child screaming. It’s the same gut-wrenching, high-pitched shriek I heard through the phone. I point to where the awful sound is coming from. “That’s Hailey,” I tell him. “She’s back there all alone. Can’t you hear her crying?”