by J. A. Little
“I’ve missed you,” she coos.
“Really?” Dean snorts. “How’s Gage?” Jodi frowns at him.
I’m not going to be polite. Madison didn’t get the hint the first time, but this bitch will. Under the bar top, I switch my Grandma Brooks’ ring from my right hand to my left. I hope Dean plays along; otherwise I’ll look like a complete ass.
“Look, Jodi. I get that you think my fiancé’s hot and all, but you should have a little bit more class than to hit on him right in front of me. He’s not going home with you—ever. He goes home with me. So pack your boobs back into your top, and go try one of the single fools down that way!” I lift my hand, flaunting my ring and waggling my fingers. Jodi looks at Dean, who simply smiles before threading his hand with mine and kissing my knuckles. She doesn’t say a single thing as she turns around and walks away.
“Probably shouldn’t let her fill my drink, huh?” I joke.
“Your fiancé?” Dean asks, his eyebrow raised.
I shrug. “Girls like her don’t care if you’re someone’s boyfriend.” I shove my thumbnail into my mouth. “Not that you are. I didn’t mean that you’re my… Shit.”
Dean shuts me up with his mouth, ending my stammering but also avoiding the subject. I let him.
“Where’d you get that?” he asks, fingering the ring.
“It was my grandma’s. Karen and my dad gave it to me yesterday.”
“Well, that was lucky.”
“I know, right?”
The band starts up, and Dean and I listen and drink. He stops after two, switching to Coke. Jodi never comes back down to our end of the bar.
“What did you do to her?” Lance chuckles, handing me another refill. “She’s all pissy.”
“I showed her my engagement ring.” I grin.
“Huh?” His eyes dart between us. He can obviously sense our amusement because he relaxes and laughs. “Shit.”
The rest of the night goes fine. I try not to get too toasted, although I’m definitely feeling the alcohol.
“You ready to go?” Dean asks as people start filtering out. Hopping down off the stool, I nod.
“Yep.”
We wave good-bye to Lance. I don’t even bother to look at Jodi. If she notices how close Dean is holding me, I’ll never know.
“Is Andy gonna be pissed I kept you out so late?” Dean asks on the way home. Annoyed, I turn to ream him out—to tell him that I’m a grown woman and I can stay out as long as I want—but he’s smirking.
He wants to know if the coast is clear to stay the night. Duh.
“He’s at Sara’s tonight.”
“Thought I was asking about your curfew?”
“Shut up and drive.”
By the time we pull into my driveway, I am unbelievably horny. Could be the alcohol, could be the man who has spent the last fifteen minutes fingering a lidless plastic water bottle in the cup holder. Lucky bottle. I wait patiently for him to open my door and then just fucking pounce on him. He catches me, stumbling backward.
“Jesus, sweetheart. In a hurry?”
“To get your clothes off,” I rasp between kisses to his face and neck. He closes the car door with his foot and carries me to the house.
“Your neighbors are getting quite a show.”
“They should be minding their own business anyway. Here.” I hand Dean my keys so he can get in. Next thing I know, I’m on the edge of my bed, and Dean is shirtless. Did I do that? He’s pulling at my leggings and then my dress, leaving me in just my bra and panties. His lips are on my mouth, my neck, the curve of my breasts. He reaches his hands underneath me to unhook my bra and throws it somewhere across the room. I love the feel of his tongue on my tits. It circles and flicks and makes me squirm. I think of other places it could circle and flick, and I find myself begging him to go lower. Instead, he returns to my mouth. Goddammit!
Dean’s phone starts ringing. He ignores it and continues working me into a frenzy. The ringing stops, but two seconds later, starts again. I’m beginning to think that the caller knows what we’re doing and is trying to interrupt.
“Answer it,” I pant.
“No.”
“If you don’t, they might keep calling.”
He reaches down, picking up his phone and silencing it before tossing it onto the nightstand.
“I don’t know that number.” He’s back on me, and this time, he goes in the direction I want—down. His fingers slip under the lacy fabric and slide it down my legs. I’m naked. I want him naked, too, but he’s on his knees. I feel dizzy with anticipation—and maybe a little bit from the alcohol, too. It intensifies as I feel his breath between my legs.
He’s not talking, he’s just doing, and I’ve never been so appreciative of silence in my life. His mouth is on me, kissing and sucking. I’m writhing and reeling and gripping his hair.
“Stop moving so much,” he growls.
“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.” Looking down, I see muscular shoulders tensed, arms wrapped around my open thighs. His tongue is inside. It feels so good. “Dean,” I squeal. “I’m gonna…”
He withdraws.
“Ahhhhh! What are you doing?” I cry. “Dean, please.”
He grins up at me. Cheeky bastard. I watch as he returns his focus to my swollen, throbbing clit and moves his tongue rapidly against it. His arms tighten around my legs, anchoring me to the bed, and I’m lost. I cry out loudly as I come.
And then everything goes black.
Chapter 40
Dean
I stare down at Kayla’s limp body. I’m either that good, or she’s that drunk. Shit, I’m hoping I’m just that good, but somehow I doubt it. Going down on girls isn’t something I do. It’s not something Steph was into, and I wasn’t interested in doing it with any randoms. I’ve seen enough porn to know what to do, though, and I’ve even learned a few things from reading some of Emily’s chick magazines. It’s hard to resist when the cover reads have the best orgasm of your life.
Aiden saw me reading it and gave me shit, but I caught that fucker looking at the same article a week later.
I lift Kayla up easily and situate her in the bed, pulling the covers over her naked body. Standing in the eerily silent room, I debate what to do. I can still taste her on my tongue, which is severely delaying the deflation of my painful erection.
I strip down to my boxers, rinse out my mouth with some mouthwash I find in the bathroom, and climb into bed next to Kayla. Lying on my back, I stare up at the ceiling. I want to touch her so badly, but she obviously needs to sleep off the booze.
I think about our night. She thinks I didn’t notice her disappointment when I introduced her to Lance as my friend, but I did. I had no idea how to respond to the whole fiancé thing. Even though I knew she was fucking with Jodi, it still made me a little nervous. Kayla said she’d “protect” me, but I didn’t consider that she’d lay claim like that. I thought she’d do something similar to what she did with Madison. A kiss, maybe a grope.
I close my eyes, hoping I’ll fall asleep quickly, but I’m not that lucky. Kayla is restless, tossing and turning. After about an hour, I can’t take it anymore. I trap her in my arms and pin her down. She struggles for a few minutes and moans, but then settles. Unfortunately, this means that her naked body is pressed up against me. It’s pure fucking torture. I don’t sleep at all. Instead, I watch her, memorizing every line, every freckle on her face. I watch her eyelashes flutter and her lips tremble. I listen to her whimper. I find myself chuckling at the fact that she left me hanging after getting hers, and yet I’m still here. I’m still wrapped around her like she’s my fucking security blanket.
But then my smile fades. I’m getting too attached. I’ve been attached before. And while I know Kayla and Stephanie are two very different people, I don’t want to go to that place again.
My thoughts don’t improve as the night wears on, but when Kayla begins to stir again a few hours later, I try to push them back. I don’t want her to see me in
such an anxious state.
Her eyes slowly crack open, and she blinks a few times before staring at me.
“Good morning.”
“Yeah,” she says, her voice strained. “Oh, God, what happened?”
I chuckle lightly. “You passed out.”
“I did?” I nod. “Oh, shit. In the middle of… Oh my God.” She covers her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry.”
“It wasn’t in the middle, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
“Dean,” she groans.
I kiss her nose. “It’s fine.” Rolling over, I get out of bed.
“What are you doing?”
“I have to go.”
Kayla glances at the clock, squinting. “It’s 4:00 a.m.”
“I know.” I grimace. “I have to take one of the boys to a therapy session at eight this morning. I need to get some things done before then.”
Kayla looks up at me, her eyes questioning. I feel like shit for bailing, but I have to get out of here. I need to clear my head. I pull on my jeans and slip my shirt on over my head.
“I’ll call you later, okay?” Pressing a kiss against her mouth, I leave before she even has a chance to respond. When I get to my car, I bang my head against the steering wheel. I just left the perfect woman in a warm bed, and she probably thinks I’m a total douchebag. What the fuck is wrong with me?
* * *
“What are you doing here so early?” Simon grumbles when he sees me sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. It’s 6:00 a.m., and I’m on my third cup.
“Nothing better to do.” I frown, thinking about what I could be doing right now. What I should be doing right now. I should be in bed with Kayla.
“Thanks for making a whole pot!” Simon says snidely, holding up the nearly empty coffeepot.
“I did make a whole pot.”
He looks at me. I offer a fake smile and return to my newspaper. Sitting down next to me, he grabs a portion of the paper I’ve set aside and starts reading.
“So, I heard Logan talking to his girl on the phone the other day. You ever met her?”
I shake my head, only partially paying attention. “Nope.”
“Is that not part of our jobs? To get to know who our charges are spending their time with?”
“We’re a group home, Simon. If we were an RTC or a juvenile detention facility, then I’d know every single person the boys spend their time with, but we’re not. Our jobs are to teach them the skills they’re going to need to be productive and happy members of their community and to provide a safe and caring environment for them to grow, not to police their every move.”
“I’m just not so sure she’s the kind of girl Logan should be getting involved with. From what I overheard, she’s trying to convince him to take her over state lines. She’s got some rich daddy who’s not very nice, and she wants Logan to be her knight in shining armor. In less than a month, that would be considered felony kidnapping, wouldn’t it?”
“What?” I jerk my head toward him. What the fuck did he just say? “When was this?”
“Tuesday. That kid thinks he’s being sneaky.” Simon laughs. “But I’ve overheard more conversations than I can count between him and Brayden. His girl’s only sixteen, and he’s definitely banging her.”
I frown. He’s talking about these kids like they’re his buddies, and I don’t like it.
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“I figured that was yours and A’s territory. I’m just the night guard.” Simon smirks. “Thought you should know.”
“Yeah, probably should have known three days ago.”
He shrugs. “Sorry.”
Fuck. How is it possible for me to have such a shitty day before the sun even comes up?
“Do you realize that if he was planning to skip out, he could have already done it in the amount of time it’s taken you to tell me this? Goddammit, Simon! You can’t keep this kind of shit from us. You hear something, you tell us. Me, Aiden, Emily, Tracey, I don’t care who you tell, but if something goes wrong and I find out you knew about it, you’re done here. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” He salutes me, but from the tone of his voice, I can tell he thinks this is all a joke.
Over the next half hour, the boys all stumble in. I watch Logan closely. He’s dragging like the rest of them, but there’s something else. He seems nervous and doesn’t engage anyone in conversation. He eats breakfast, gets dressed, and grabs the keys to the car before heading out. There’s definitely something going on.
“You ready to go?” I ask Brayden after the rest of the kids are on the bus.
“Yep.”
While Brayden is with Dr. Cooper, I sit in the waiting room flipping through magazines, trying to find something to distract me. I look at the clock and wonder if Kayla’s at work yet. Is she pissed that I left? Does she even care? I don’t know how she views what’s been going on between us. I’m not even sure how I view it at this point. All I know is that it feels good. I like being around her. I like being with her…in every way. I flip-flop from thinking about Kayla to what’s going on with Logan and back to Kayla again. I’m so fucking thankful when the door opens and Brayden emerges.
“I’ll see you next week.” Dr. Cooper smiles.
I lift my hand in thanks and follow Brayden out of the office. All the boys except for Matty and Logan see him. I’ll be making an appointment for Matty soon. I wanted to give him some time to settle in before forcing him to go. I know he hasn’t responded well to therapists in the past, but Dr. Cooper is good and they all relate well to him. He’s not some stuffy old dude who lectures. He’s a thirty-eight-year-old, married, clinical child psychologist with a specialty in juvenile delinquency. If he’d been around ten years ago, maybe I wouldn’t have ended up where I am. We were made to go to therapy in juvie, but the guy I had was a total ass. I’m pretty sure he was drawing cartoon characters or writing his new book while we sat there with our arms crossed, not talking. As much as I think Logan should go, too, at his age, it has to be something he’s ready and willing to do.
“How was that?” I ask when we get into the elevator.
“Fine. Same as always.”
Dr. Cooper informed me a long time ago that Brayden did a lot of talking in his sessions and that I shouldn’t be surprised if he clammed up afterward. I buy him a coffee at the Starbucks on the corner before we climb into the car and head for school. His therapy sessions have been on the second Friday of every month for the past three years, so his teachers are well aware and typically very accommodating.
“Do you and Logan talk much?” I ask when we’re on our way.
Brayden looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Yeah, all the time.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. I mean about your pasts?”
Brayden scoffs. “Logan doesn’t talk about that shit, D. Sorry. I know his mom was a hooker and an addict, but whose isn’t?”
“Have you told him about yours?”
“Dr. C says it’s a good thing to talk about it. He says the more I talk about it with the people in my life, the stronger I’ll be. He says it’s like desensitization or something like that. The first time you talk about it, it hurts like a bitch and you want to punch something or set something on fire, but then the next time, it hurts a little less. Like a scab covering the wound. He says it’ll never go away, but soon I’ll be able to handle it like a motherfucking pro.”
“Are those the professional words he used?” I ask. “Tone down the language.”
“He also says I don’t have to understand the words, just the concepts.” He grins and looks very proud of himself. “Yeah, I’ve told Logan my sh—stuff. I talk to Caity about it, and I’ve even told Cl-uhm…” he ends his sentence with a series of weird mouth sounds and then clamps it shut.
“What the hell was that? Who?”
“A friend of Caity’s. Nice girl.”
I glance over at him. He looks like he’s hiding something. “Are you chea
ting on your girl?”
“Huh?” He looks horrified. “No!”
“I remember you telling me about how nice a girl Caity is.”
“She still is. She’s very nice.” Brayden waggles his eyebrows at me, and I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I do anyway.
“Just keep it wrapped and don’t tell me about it, please.”
“Uh-huh. Speaking of keeping it wrapped, how’s your sex life?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Brayden. Really?”
He laughs. “Dude, don’t even try to tell me you haven’t hit that. Kayla is hot on a bad day. All dressed up and shit… Mmm, mmm, mmm.” He does this little move where he looks like he’s riding a horse, his hand swaying back and forth. I’m not amused. He knows it, too. “Sorry. But damn. That picture? Did that dress just slip off?” I know he’s trying to rile me up, and it’s working.
“Brayden,” I warn. And then I realize something. “Shit, did Logan and Matty see that picture?”
“No, I grabbed it to check the basketball scores and tossed the rest of it before anyone else got up. They don’t know you’re banging their social worker?”
“You are walking on thin ice right now,” I growl, clenching my teeth together.
“Geez. Why are you so grumpy? I’m just messing with you. It’s not like I’m gonna say anything to them. I’m good at keeping secrets.”
I glance at him, something in his voice catching my attention. Unfortunately, I have to watch the road and can’t read his expression like I usually can.
“What other secrets are you hiding?” I ask curiously.
“Stop being so suspicious,” he laughs, obviously thinking I’m not serious.
“You didn’t answer me.”
“And I’m not going to,” he retorts.
I sigh. “Are you feeling ready to leave care?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Leave the system? I guess, but I still have setbacks.”
“We all have our setbacks, kid.”
“Do you?”
I nod. “Frequently.” Like right now.
