DOTTY (The Naughty Ones Book 3)

by Kristina Weaver

  I nodded slowly, tears forming in my eyes. “I miss him.”

  “We all miss him, Addison.”

  “But I don’t know if I can do this without him.”

  “You aren’t alone.” He came to me and lifted my face with a finger under my chin. “Do you see all those people? Do you think they only came here for Charles?”

  I looked down the small hill and studied the shoulders and the bent heads of so many people I recognized. People I’d grown up around and had known since I was a small child. And the one set of shoulders who stood above them all. Grant.

  “They’re here for you, Addison. They’re here to show you that you aren’t alone. That, although we lost a good man, life goes on.”

  I nodded even as tears rolled down my cheeks. Billy took my face in his hands and his eyes softened as he studied my eyes. “He loved more than anything. Everything he did was because of you. Don’t let him down now.”

  I nodded again. And then Billy pulled me into his arms, holding me against him for a long moment. I couldn’t remember another time when Billy showed me that kind of affection. He’d kiss my cheek, let me kiss his. He’d squeeze my shoulder. But he rarely ever indulged in anything more than a brief, passing hug. This was more. And it was exactly what I needed in that moment.

  We returned to the service side by side. Grant seemed surprised to see him there, but he nodded gratefully to him as he took my hand and pulled me close to his side. The service was nearly finished, a simple service with only a priest to give a blessing. It was what my dad had wanted. And when it was over, we watched as they lowered my dad’s casket into the ground. Everyone walked past the grave and dropped a rose into it, then came to me and offered a few words of consolation.

  I had thought watching the casket go into the ground would be the hardest. But I think listening to everyone tell me how much they would miss my dad was the hardest. I wasn’t alone. But the burden of everyone else’s grief was a heavy weight I wasn’t sure I could stand.

  ***

  “Eat something,” Agnes said, shoving a plate of cold cuts into my hand. I forced a smile, but the thought of putting that greasy, cold meat into my mouth brought back the nausea I’d been battling since I got pregnant. The moment she turned her back, I set it aside.

  “Mr. Lewis is here,” Angela said, coming up behind me. “He wanted to express his condolences.”

  I nodded.

  Mr. Lewis was still trying to decide between Berryman Construction and a rival company for his project. He wanted to build an office complex for his corporation that would span three acres and consist of five buildings. It would be a real coop for Berryman Construction to get that kind of project so close on the heels of the buyout, but I was losing hope the longer it took him to decide. Grant insisted we still had a chance, but I wasn’t so sure.

  He walked up to me, his hands outstretched. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Berryman,” he said. “Your father was such a good man.”

  “He was,” I said, repeating the same two words I’d said so many times today that it was almost coming out by root.

  “Did I ever tell you how I met your father?”

  I shook my head. I was still a little lost in my own dark world, but I wasn’t even sure I’d known that Mr. Lewis knew my father.

  Mr. Lewis was the head of CQ Oil. It was one of those things where the last CEO had the bad luck of being in charge when there was a leak in one of their pipelines in the Gulf of Mexico, so Lewis was promoted and he’d managed not only to whitewash the bad publicity, but also increase profits by more than fifty percent within two years of the disaster.

  About my dad’s age, Mr. Lewis was anxious to create a legacy for himself before the next disaster sent him packing. And he wanted this complex to be that.

  “We knew each other in college. In fact, he and I had a crush on the same girl senior year.”

  “Is that right?”

  “It is.” He studied me for a long second. “Had your grandfather had his way, I would have been your father.”

  I gasped. Couldn’t help myself. My dad had told me very little about his courtship with my mother. I knew that she was an heiress to her father’s multimillion-dollar fortune and that her father had opinions on her beaus. And that he disliked the fact that my father borrowed money from my mother to begin Berryman Construction. But he never told me that there was another beau involved.

  “Yes,” Mr. Lewis said, squeezing my hands. “Your grandfather wanted her to marry me because I came from what he considered a good family, which just meant that my father was a member of his country club. But Julia was a stubborn woman and she made it clear that Charles was her choice. And, now that so many years have passed, I have to admit that she made a good choice.”

  I inclined my head. “Well, no offense, but I’m grateful she chose as she did.”

  Mr. Lewis smiled broadly. “As am I. There’s no telling how things might have turned out differently if your mother had gone the other way.”

  He rubbed my hands somewhat vigorously between his. “I’m sure you don’t want to talk business today,” he said, “but please call my office when you are ready. I’d like to get started on that project as quickly as possible.”

  Again he caught me by surprise. “You’re giving the contract to us?”

  “Yes. I was always leaning toward Berryman Construction. You have the traditional craftsmanship that I want. I only hesitated because of the buyout. But I’ve heard that you and Grant McGraw are married?”

  “We are.”

  “Then, really, it all remains in the family. Correct?”

  “It does.”

  He smiled broadly. “Then I’m thrilled to be able to work with you.”

  He leaned in and kissed my cheek, then disappeared through the crowd in my father’s living room.

  Grant caught my eye from across the room where he was talking with one of my mother’s distant aunts. His eyebrows rose. I nodded and he bit his lip, clearly trying to hide a smile.

  Building the office complex for CQ was the last piece in salvaging the business. With that in place, it looked like all the changes we’d made, all the money Grant had sunk into it, was going to pay off.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered under my breath as another couple approached me with their words of condolence.

  ***

  “What do you want to do with all this food?”

  I looked around the kitchen at the many casserole dishes and tinfoil-covered platters. There was more food in this room than I’d ever seen. Too much for just Grant and me.

  “Take it home, Agnes.”

  “I can take some, but there’s so much.”

  “Give some to Angela.”

  “She already took home three casseroles and a couple of cakes.”

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I stood there looking at it all. Then I said, “Do we have some cardboard boxes?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s gather it up and we’ll take it to that homeless shelter downtown.”

  Agnes smiled brightly. “You are your father’s daughter,” she said.

  I touched her arm as she started to walk past me and offered her a brief hug.

  “Thank you for everything you did for my dad.”

  Tears came as quickly as a smile. “Of course.”

  “I really appreciate it. And your offer to get the house cleared out…thank you. I do want your help, but I need some time.”

  “Of course.”

  We hugged again, and then she went back to work, the tears gone as quickly as they’d appeared.

  Grant recruited a few strong, strapping young men to help when he discovered what it was we wanted to do with the extra food. We helped load up the cars and then sent them on their way. Suddenly the silence was overwhelming. The kitchen was empty and the house seemed to echo with the absence of the grieving. A part of me wanted to rush outside and call them all back.

  “Let’s go home tonight,” Grant said.
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br />   He was leaning against the counter, a glass of water in his hands. He wouldn’t look at me and he hadn’t tried to touch me for days. Not since I snapped at him at the funeral home when he tried to offer me a hug. He didn’t know what to do with me.

  “Okay.”

  He looked up. “Yeah?”

  “We don’t need to stay here anymore.” I turned slowly, my fingers brushing the top of the kitchen table. “He’s not here anymore.”

  “He’s not.”

  I looked at him. “Thank you for being here. For being patient.”

  Grant crossed to me and touched my face with just the back of one finger. “Where else would I be?”

  I moved into his arms and his quickly came around me, holding me tightly. He smelled so familiar, felt so familiar. I stood there for a long moment, loving how good it felt to be close to him. I think maybe that’s why I’d pushed him away these last few days. I didn’t want to feel good when my father couldn’t feel at all. But now…I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel alive.

  Chapter 28

  The moment we walked into our apartment, I took Grant’s hand and led the way upstairs. He followed, probably assuming I was anxious to get to sleep. And I did need to sleep. I don’t think I’d closed my eyes for more than an hour or two in more than a week. But that wasn’t what I wanted now.

  I turned into him as we crossed the threshold into the master suite, the lovely sitting room outside our bedroom welcoming us with its bright colors and comfortable furnishings. I’d finally taken the reigns of the decorating when we decided to move in together, transforming the bland, white rooms into something cozy and ideal for a young couple. The only problem was, I was pretty sure I wanted to convert the sitting room into a nursery for the baby. The idea of having the baby all the way downstairs by his or herself was not sitting well with me. So we’d have to go through another couple of weeks of paint smells and minor construction messes while that was taking place. But, for now, it was a lovely sitting room. A perfect location for a seduction.

  I pushed his suit jacket off of his shoulders and tugged at his tie, pulling him across the room toward the small loveseat pressed against the far wall. His eyebrows rose as he watched me, a little confusion dancing in his eyes.

  “I want you,” I said quietly against his lips.

  “Are you sure?” he asked even as he kissed me.

  “Positive.”

  I turned him and pushed him down on the loveseat, climbing into his lap as I tugged his tie from around his neck. We kissed, our tongues dancing together as I unbuttoned his shirt. The buttons weren’t coming fast enough for my nimble fingers, but I managed to get most of them before I lifted it over his head. Then I pushed his head back and kissed his neck, my lips moving slowly over that place where his Adam’s apple lived, moving down to the soft patch of hair that grew in the center of his chest.

  “Damn, baby!”

  I looked up at him and licked my lips slowly, like I’d just tasted the best thing God had ever created. His eyes were burning with need as he watched me, his hands reaching for my hips.

  “No,” I said, pushing them away. “This is my show.”

  “Addison…”

  I didn’t want to listen to his concerns, didn’t want him to stop the train we were riding. I wanted this, wanted to forget for a while. I grabbed his wrists and pulled them up behind his head, then wrapped his silk tie around them, binding them tight enough that he couldn’t lower his arms, even if he wanted to. The whole time he was kissing my neck, his hot breath sending shivers of pleasure up and down my spine. When I pulled back and he tugged at the tie, one of his eyebrows cocked as he studied me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Like I said, this is my show.”

  I turned my attention back to his chest, to running the tip of my tongue along the teeny hardness of his nipple, to tasting heated skin that was so incredibly full of life. I worked my way down his chest to his belly, slipping my tongue into his navel briefly as my hands tugged at the button holding his slacks in place. He was biting his bottom lip when I straightened again, climbing off his lap to stand in front of him.

  “You’re not leaving me, are you?” he asked, his voice husky with need.

  “Not going anywhere.”

  I crossed the room and turned on my iPod where it had been sitting in a dock for longer than it should have. Music filled the room, something soft and jazzy—the kind of music Grant couldn’t stand. But I left it, deciding the beat was perfect for what I planned to do next.

  I started to move my hips, doing a little shimmy that was neither planned nor well thought out. I nearly tripped over the low table that sat in front of the long couch that was perpendicular to the loveseat. I caught myself just in time and moved over a few feet. Then I started to sway again, watching his face as he watched me. He was biting his lip again and I knew that was a very good sign.

  As I danced, I ran my hands over my own hips, my expanding belly, my breasts. Grant tugged at the tie around his wrists, but it wasn’t going anywhere. And then I reached behind me and tugged at my zipper, pulling the thing down with a slow, easy movement. My dress split down the back, the three-quarter sleeves threatening to slide off without any help. I crossed my arms over my chest, catching the shoulders of the dress and slowing their release. Grant’s eyes were glued to my chest, waiting for the moment when it would be revealed. I made him wait as long as I could.

  I turned my back to him when I stepped out of the dress. He groaned, but then the sound turned into something else as I reached back and tugged at the clasp of my bra. It didn’t come free as easily as the dress. But it did come free and fall from my heavy breasts. I turned, dressed only in a pair of panties, my arms crossed over my breasts.

  Grant leaned forward, like he wanted to get off the couch.

  “You’re driving me insane,” he practically growled.

  “Good. That was the plan.”

  I crossed to him and climbed into his lap again, touching his face as I stole another kiss. He groaned against my lips.

  “Undo my hands. I want to touch you.”

  “Not yet.”

  And then I slid to my knees. He leaned his head back and the sounds coming from his throat would never let me forget what my touch did to him. I pulled at his slacks, releasing the button and zipper, the back of my fingers brushing the shaft that hid behind his briefs. He lifted his hips quite willingly to help me free him of his pants. Then I brushed my lips against his inner thigh as I pressed my hand against the bulge of his briefs. Again those noises…they made my juices run more than anything else he could do.

  I wanted to tease him, to play with him the same way he does with me sometimes. But this need to be a part of him, to feel the life coursing through him, to feel alive in his arms was too strong to ignore.

  I tugged his briefs up and reached inside to free his cock. He was impossibly hard, his pulse vibrating through his shaft as I held him. I stroked him for a moment, watching his face as his eyes rolled back in his head. Then I ran my thumb over his head, coating it in the fluid of his precum, licking it away when he focused on me long enough to understand what it was I was doing.

  “God, baby,” he moaned, again tugging at the restraint on his wrists.

  I stroked him a little longer, reaching into his briefs to cup his balls with my other hand. Again he leaned his head back, a moan like nothing I’d ever heard before escaping his lips. I rolled his balls in their sacks, enjoying the feel of his virility there in my hand. And then I took him in my mouth, with no warning, swallowing as much of him as I could. I thought the poor man was going to jump off the loveseat.

  There is nothing more life affirming than sex. Holding the power to bring such a man to his knees in my hands was invigorating. Feeling life pulse through him in the blood that made him erect—that beat against my hand, my lips—feeling the heat of him, the virility of him, remembering it was this body that placed a new life inside of me…it pushed away th
e darkness that had settled over me the moment my dad died.

  When he was close, when I could feel his need building inside of him, I pulled away. I stood and slowly slipped out of my panties. And then I climbed on top of him and guided him inside of me, moving carefully as he slowly filled me.

  “I need to touch you,” he said, his eyes locked on mine, hooded with a need like I’d never seen before.

  I shook my head even as I closed my eyes, sitting up and moving so that he touched me in all the right places. It felt different. Good. But different. He moved his hips as I rocked against him, the tip of his cock touching things deep inside of me that sent rockets cascading over my nerve endings. He was so close, I could feel him swelling just moments after I mounted him. But I was right there with him, so aroused just by his arousal that we both slipped over that edge at almost the same time. I buried my fingers against his shoulder, biting back a scream. And then I collapsed on top of him, reveling in the race of his heartbeat and the gasps of his breath.

  Only then did I release his hands. Only then did I succumb to what I knew I was barely holding off. Only then did I free myself of a little more of the poisonous buildup of grief.

  Grant just held me, knowing me well enough that that was all he could do.

  Chapter 29

  To say we were busy over the next six weeks was like saying the president of the United States had a few things to do each day. Taking on CQ’s office complex was a logistical nightmare that required long hours at the office that I was more than willing to put in. It felt good to be busy. It kept my mind in a better place.

  I was at the site late one afternoon, looking past my growing belly as I walked over plywood that had been laid down to keep everyone out of the mud. My feet ached inside my heavy work boots. I’d been touring project sites since early this morning and this was my last stop. There should have been foundations dug for four of the five buildings. I was pleased to see that they were actually beginning to dig out the fifth despite heavy rains last week.