Rites of Passage

by Catherine Gayle

  DREW’S PARENTS STAYED in Tulsa for most of a week, only flying back to Victoria a day before the Thunderbirds were due to leave for another road trip. This one was going to be a long one, too. Eight days. I couldn’t deny I was nervous about how I’d handle being on my own again for so long, because Drew had become my rock.

  In the time that Mr. and Mrs. Nash were here, they’d started to join him in that. Maybe they were pebble-sized rocks and not big boulders like he was, but they were still starting to become comfortable fixtures in my life. His mother even made sure I had their phone numbers and email addresses before they left, and she told me to call them anytime.

  And while they were here, Drew got his sister and brother-in-law, Melody and Shawn, on Skype. We had a big family talk with them and the girls.

  Yes, we. They’d included me, despite my protests.

  But now, Lucy was demanding tattoos, and Charley wanted dreads. Her parents agreed to braids, and I sent them some of those wash-off fake tattoos, with a promise that I’d get some special ones made up just for her. Ones that I would design. For now, that seemed to satisfy everyone.

  I was still in awe that I was included as part of the family, and none of them had acted like I didn’t belong.

  The girls, in particular, wanted to talk to me more than anyone else. I was sure it was because I looked funny. Drew insisted it was because I was an artist, and his nieces loved to color.

  By the time we ended the Skype call, both girls had proclaimed they wanted to be Ravyn for Halloween this year, and Melody and Shawn were thanking me for getting them off the hook for buying or creating two more Elsa costumes, like they’d had to do last year.

  My counselor and I had a plan in place for Drew’s road trips. It included daily phone calls with Drew, spending time with London and some of the other WAGs on the days I didn’t work, and snuggle-and-play time with Snoopy whenever I needed a dose of companionship but didn’t feel up to being around kids.

  Ethan—I just couldn’t keep calling him Huggy Bear, even though that was what his teammates called him—had agreed that I could let myself in as often as I wanted while the team was gone. The dog sitter was only coming twice a day, so he wanted me to burn off some of the puppy’s energy and take him outside a time or two. Actually, he’d begged me to stop by every night when I got off work. Puppy potty training wasn’t going very well.

  All in all, it seemed like a reasonable plan. One I could work with. It might not be perfect, but when had life ever been perfect?

  But for now, Drew and I were alone at his house. It was both the first time it’d been just the two of us in almost a week and the last time we’d see each other for more than a week, and neither of us could keep our hands to ourselves.

  We’d barely returned from taking his parents to the airport five minutes ago, and we were already getting naked and sweaty. Drew latched his mouth on to one of my breasts and suckled, and there might as well have been a line that ran from there straight to my clit.

  I moaned and squirmed beneath him, reaching for his hard-as-steel dick. “I need you inside me.” Who knew that going almost a week with no sex could turn you into a demanding, sex-crazed fiend?

  But even though he let me stroke him, he didn’t hurry up and do what I begged him for. In fact, he looked up and met my eyes, his full of a mischievous gleam, and grinned. “I’ll get there. But first, I want to make you come a time or two with my tongue. I want to drive you crazy tonight.”

  “Too late to get on the crazy train,” I said, even as he reached between my legs and slipped two fingers inside me. “I’m already there. Loony bin, remember? No need to drive me there when it’s where I live.”

  He growled in answer, giving me a fierce look even though he didn’t stop what he was doing. In fact, if anything, he only made me crazier with need, pressing the pad of his thumb against my piercing down below and rubbing tiny circles there. He didn’t argue with words. How could he? His mouth was otherwise occupied with licking a feverish path down my abs, but his expression argued plenty. Drew didn’t like me calling myself crazy. We’d been over this a few times, and he refused to budge.

  “Sorry. No more crazy talk,” I promised.

  But then I couldn’t say anything else at all. He went around my belly button with his tongue a few times, fucking me with his fingers until my hips bucked and my breath hitched. Who knew the belly button was an erogenous zone? Not me, until now.

  His hot mouth inched lower, but he didn’t go straight for my pussy. He licked a line down the inside of my thigh to my knee and back a few times. By the time his tongue landed where I wanted it, I was already a whimpering pile of goo. It only took a couple of well-placed licks and a good pull of suction, and I was coming all over his face, my body quivering and going boneless.

  He left a hand in place as he inched his way up my body again until he could kiss me, long and slow and deep. I tasted myself on his tongue.

  Drew, however, was anything but boneless. I wanted to give him the same kind of pleasure he’d just given me. Turnabout was only fair and all that jazz, right? As soon as I could remember how to use my muscles, I reached for him.

  “Nuh-uh,” he murmured against my lips, his thumb drawing lazy patterns over my clit and brushing insistently against my piercing.

  “Drew.” The word came out as a whine. For good reason. I wanted him inside me. I needed that deep connection.

  For me, it wasn’t just about the orgasm. Sex was great, but sex with Drew was one of the most intense things I’d ever experienced. Because he mattered. And he made me feel like I mattered, too.

  I tried again, and this time I was able to wrap my fingers around his length. His heat pulsed against my palm. I wanted to feel him pulsing inside my body.

  He climbed over me and settled himself between my thighs, and I thought he was finally giving in. But he dragged his hands up the sides of my ribs, not stopping until he’d lifted my arms over my head. He pinned me like that, pressing my hands to the headboard with one of his strong fists holding both of my wrists, his hips pressing mine to the mattress.

  I ground myself against him in an effort to get on with things, but he laughed and shook his head.

  “Not yet, baby. Soon.”

  “Now.”

  “Not until I tell you something first.”

  There wasn’t a damned thing he could tell me that would come close to taming the heat he’d built in my body. I sulked and rocked my hips against him again, earning a pained groan when I made contact with his cock.

  He slowly shook his head. “You’re killing me.”

  “You started it.”

  But still, he didn’t get on with things.

  I let out a groan of frustration. “What on earth do you need to tell me that can’t wait?”

  He stayed just as he was, cupping my cheek with his free hand, for so long I thought he must have forgotten what he’d wanted to say.

  But his eyes. God, his eyes! He was staring at me with such intensity and reverence. I might melt from the heat of his gaze.

  His lips met mine. Soft. The kiss was barely there and gone too soon, like a flutter of butterfly wings. It was a kiss meant to break down all my defenses, leaving me open and vulnerable and raw.

  It worked.

  “I just need you to know something,” he whispered, his lips hovering only a hairsbreadth above mine. The warmth of his words landed in the cracks in my armor, filling them up.

  “What?” My question came out like a puff of air and got trapped in the tears stinging my eyes.

  Drew kissed one of my eyelids, then the other. That was enough to make the waterworks flow. Good grief, why was I crying? Other than being a freaking bundle of nerves lately, always on the verge of tears. But there was no good reason for my emotions to overwhelm me right now.

  He kissed my wet cheeks. Then my lips again. The salty taste tickled my tongue.

  “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are to me?” he asked.

&nbs
p; “I swear to God, if that’s what you stopped in order to tell me—”

  “I need you to know that I love you,” he cut in, silencing me before I could argue with him by planting another kiss on me. This one was harder. Needier. Over way too soon.

  My lips felt delightfully swollen when he broke away, and I blinked at him a few times, trying to gather my wits.

  “I love you,” Drew repeated. “I’ve been in love with you for a while, but you’ve been dealing with so much, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you, so I’ve been waiting to tell you. But I don’t want to wait any longer. I need you to know, because we never know what’s going to happen. And because it’s killing me not to tell you every time I see you. And because I don’t want to leave tomorrow without you knowing how it’s going to rip my heart out to walk away from you, even though I know I’ll be back in a week and you’ll be just fine while I’m gone. So I love you. And I get that love isn’t a very comfortable thing for you to tal—”

  “I love you, too,” I cut in before he could make any more excuses for me.

  I blinked away my tears, in shock that the words had fallen so readily from my lips. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told someone I loved them. That wasn’t ever anything Jax and I had said to each other. I did love Rick and Shannon, and I knew they loved me, but it wasn’t something any of us ever spoke aloud. The only person I’d said those words to in more than a decade was Devon, and I’d said it right before handing him over to a woman and then walking out of his life.

  But I wasn’t going to walk away from Drew. And I didn’t have a fear that he would walk away from me, either. If that wasn’t proof that I was starting to find an internal sort of peace, I didn’t know what would do it.

  Drew’s face took on a cocky, sexy smile. He bit his lower lip, which gave me ideas about doing the same. “You do?” he asked, his voice going deep and husky. “You’re sure about that? Because you don’t have to say it just—”

  “Shut up and kiss me,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Impatient.” He flicked the end of my nose with a finger, following it up with a kiss. On the nose. Not what I’d meant at all.

  “That’s not the kind of kiss I want,” I groused.

  “Hmm.” He brushed his lips over mine in the most excruciating tease. “You know what I love most about having you like this?”

  I wriggled beneath him, which caused my piercings to drag against his skin—a move that I knew from experience would drive us both wild. “My piercings,” I joked.

  He nipped my lower lip, much like I wanted to do to his, and grinned. “I do love your piercings, but that wasn’t what I meant. I love that you ask for what you want. Hell, you demand it. You always have, since the first day we met. You remember that?”

  There wasn’t a chance in hell I could have forgotten that. I still didn’t know what had gotten into me that day, when I’d all but insisted he take me home and fuck me. “I’d love it even more if you’d give me what I want right now,” I said, pouting. “You gave it to me, then.” And it’d turned into so much more than I ever would have imagined.

  “As you wish,” he said, claiming my lips in another scorching kiss.

  He’d just gone Princess Bride on me again. And I knew he meant it, too. Because Drew loved me, and he’d never been one to do anything halfway.

  He took his time about it, but I didn’t mind. Because for the first time in a long time, I had something to look forward to. Not behind.

  I used to be scared of the future, of the unknown, of whatever life had in store for me. Because in my experience, it could never be good. I’d gone from one awful, horrible thing to the next, which was bound to be even worse somehow. But now, I didn’t see things that way. Being with Drew, I wanted to see what the future held.

  HALLOWEEN WAS CREEPING up on us, which meant Thanksgiving and Christmas weren’t far off, either. Christmas would come with its own set of challenges for me this year, but I was becoming more confident that I could handle them. Especially with Drew by my side. And while Halloween wasn’t one of the holidays that most couples think of when they talk about their various firsts, it was going to be the first holiday Drew and I spent together.

  He had big plans for us involving a costume party with a bunch of his teammates, complete with us wearing a couple’s costume.

  Our debates over what, specifically, we should dress as had been numerous and heated, but in the end we’d landed on dressing as Bob-Marley-esque Rastafari.

  He’d found some crazy dreadlock wig for himself, and we were going to spray paint my hair black to match—after testing a single dread first, to be sure it would wash out. Add in some brightly colored tie-dyed rags, and we should be good to go.

  At least there weren’t going to be any kids at this particular party. I’d been spending more and more time with the other guys’ wives and girlfriends, which meant spending time with their kids. And while I could honestly say I hadn’t experienced a panic attack while holding one of their babies, there had been a few times I’d needed to spend several hours alone with my watercolors afterward in order to recover.

  But this Halloween party wouldn’t take place for a few more days, and I had other things on my mind at the moment.

  Such as the fact that Drew was coming back from his road trip today, and I’d get to see him tonight after his game. It’d been way, way too long. But I’d managed to get by on my own just fine. Better than fine, actually. I’d only gone to Ethan’s house for a puppy fix because I wanted to play with the puppy, not because I was falling apart.

  But seeing Drew wasn’t the only thing on my mind. There were also the matching watercolor baby-footprint-with-wings tattoos I was finishing up for my grieving clients. We’d decided to go with the sorts of soft, baby colors you’d find in the yarn aisle at a craft store, blues, yellows, and greens, primarily, with a hint of lavender thrown in for contrast.

  His was already done. He’d gotten it on his chest, directly over his heart—much like my adoption symbol tattoo. I’d worked Tanner into the lines of the wings. You could read it if you knew it was there, but it wouldn’t be obvious to the naked eye.

  I was in the midst of inking the final bits onto his wife’s tattoo, but I was having a hard time not crying all over her while I did it. She’d chosen to get the design on her belly, directly over the place where Tanner had spent nine months growing inside her.

  “It’s where my battle wounds are,” she’d said, indicating her stretch marks and the scar from her caesarian. “This is the only place it should be.”

  I certainly couldn’t fault her logic.

  The whole time I’d been working, the three of us had shared stories from our pregnancies, from their three weeks with Tanner, and from my three hours with Devon. Rick stopped in every now and then. Sometimes he cried with us. Other times, he just stood back and watched.

  I’d been afraid, heading into today. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to ink the design on their skin without falling apart. Afraid I’d chicken out entirely.

  But in the end, there wasn’t anything to be afraid of here. Inking these matching tattoos had turned out to be the most cathartic experience I could have ever hoped for.

  I took a moment to dry my eyes and blow my nose, changing into a fresh pair of gloves before going back in for a final pass over the last section. I knew there wasn’t any chance I could spread HIV through tears or snot, but I couldn’t be too careful. These two had open wounds on their skin—wounds I’d just inflicted—so being overzealous was my only reasonable option.

  I set my machine down and sat back to give the fresh ink a final once-over. Then I looked up into her eyes and smiled. “I think we have it. Want to see in the mirror?”

  She gave me a watery smile and got out of the chair. But when I led her over to the floor-length mirror, she dragged me into her arms for a bone-shattering hug, sobbing on my shoulder. “Thank you.”

  She still hadn’t released me when her husband wrapped us both u
p in his arms as well. In no time, we were having a massive cry fest in my work space.

  And it felt good.

  Eventually, we broke apart. I bandaged them up and went over their aftercare instructions before sending them up to Dagger so they could pay.

  Once they were on their way, I tried to dry myself off and get my head back in the game. Because I wasn’t done for the day. Whitney was due to arrive any time now so I could show her the final designs I’d come up with and we could get her officially on the schedule.

  Rick popped his head into my room and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “Best fucking tattoos I’ve ever seen you do,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

  “Because it meant something,” I said, shrugging off his praise.

  “That’s exactly why it’s so good. You’re a hell of an artist, Ravyn, but when you have a vested interest in the art you’re creating…” He shook his head. “There’s nothing like it. You put the rest of us to shame. That’s when it goes from being a job to being a calling.”

  “Yeah, but I still have to pay the bills, so…”

  “If you keep putting out work like that, before much longer, you’ll be able to pick and choose your clients. You can choose to only work on the ones with stories you can connect to or who want designs you’re desperate to work on. Like your cancer chick.”

  That was the dream, of course. Everyone wanted to be in a career that they loved. Every artist wanted to create only the art they were desperate to create, but they had to balance that with the commercial aspects. Sometimes, doing what we loved wasn’t what sold, so we had to do what sold, too. Or instead. I shrugged, determined not to get my hopes up even though that was exactly what Rick was trying to do.

  “I’m proud of you, Ravyn,” he said gruffly. “I know it hasn’t been easy, but you’re doing it.”

  “Doing what?” I asked, cleaning up my space so I’d be ready for Whitney when she arrived.

  “You’re climbing out of the hole you’ve been living in.” And with that, he walked out of my space, leaving me to ponder his words.