“Stop talking.”
“So, yeah, I’m definitely moving.”
My mouth descended over hers and took ownership. She was done talking; my control couldn’t handle one more second. There was nothing sweet or gentle about my assault. She met me stroke for stroke, bite for bite, growl for growl. Our clothes carpeted the floor in record time, some intact, most not. I buried my mouth between her legs, fixed on my goal—wet and ready. I’d owe her plenty of soft and sweet later. I needed the tourniquet around my dick to release, finally understanding the term bust a nut. With a bruising force I dragged her hips down, wide and open, thrusting balls deep into her heaven. Screw the white cloud, harps and flying angels. There was no coming back from completely immersing myself inside the woman I loved. Her perfect legs vice-gripped our union and her sweet moans filled in around us, as the world ceased to exist. I held nothing back, pounding with all my strength, starved for more. Starved for everything. Raw, uncontrolled, and abandoned. We dripped with sweat and ached with need, the scent of our arousals permeated the room. I couldn’t get enough. We couldn’t get enough. I wanted deeper. We changed our positions over and over, frantic and desperate to find that deeper place. Together we craved for our lovemaking to mold us into one.
This … right here, right now … was pure bliss.
In the heat of the moment I couldn’t help but think about ‘making love.’ It was such a loose term that I always despised. It was stupid and never meant anything. So why the hell did I think it? Good fucking question. It was actually a huge turn off—cock deflator—when a woman asked you to make love. Confident it was because of the vision it conjured: candles, white sheets, hand holding, transfixed gazes in the presence of excruciatingly slow sex. That wasn’t real love. And anyone who thought so was even dumber than the expression itself. Love wasn’t planned, it wasn’t a conscious decision, and it sure as shit couldn’t be made up. And unless you were in love and that feeling hit you like a Mack truck going a hundred, like it did to me, you had no idea. Making love didn’t exist. You didn’t make love, love made you. Made us.
“Ace?” Somehow between tumbling off the couch, knocking over lamps and crying out in ecstasy, Tal managed to utter a coherent word through her panting breath and swollen lips. Me, not so much. I grunted. “So, I think it’s fair to say we can add the couch to the mix.” Her giggle started deep, I would know, I was still inside her.
“Smartass.” I smacked those gorgeous globes and joined in with her. We were sweaty, sticky puddles tangled on the floor. Screw making love, this was epic. “So just to be clear and make sure I heard you right and wasn’t in a state of delirium … those three little words that left your cherry red lips and took front row in my flaming red heart … yeah, I might need to hear them again.”
She tipped her back and her giggle turned into full-blown hysteria, laughing her pretty little ass off before satisfying me with a “I love you, Asher Evan Craig” at the top of her lungs.
“Hey bud.”
Tack stood from the sidewalk table and shook my hand. Three months later his uncanny resemblance to Chase still blew my mind, down to his mannerisms and facial expressions. No question, he was a Colton.
“What’s up, Ash? How’s unpacking going? Mom’s got a lot of shit, huh?” The waiter handed us our menus as soon as we sat. Tack picked a pub downtown, a typical college hangout. Talia was thrilled that Tack initiated this lunch, just the two of us. She felt like it was a big step. This meeting and getting along were only the logistics—he already secured a spot in my life. He was a part of Tal, which meant he was a part of me. I was never worried. He was a great kid with a solid head on his shoulders. And not only did he have the pressures of being a type A personality pre-med student, but he had a toxic dose of life can suck dropped on his already full plate. It was going to take a while to swallow it down, never mind, digest. He was handling the situation like a champ, in my opinion.
“No, you got a lot of shit. And more than half the crap is from when you were a baby. I wouldn’t be surprised if I open a box and find a dirty diaper.”
He laughed. I was serious.
“You’re too chicken shit to tell her to toss it all.”
It was my turn to laugh. He hit the nail on the head. There was no way I was saying anything to Tal about saving all his stuff, she’d rip me to shreds. Our first fight living together was not going to be over stained bibs and sippy cups. Instead I kept my mouth shut and rented another storage space in my building for everything ‘sentimental.’ Nominal price to pay when it meant she was officially a Bostonian … with my address.
After twelve long weeks of dealing with almost twenty years of stuff, the moving truck arrived yesterday and my once fairly empty bachelor pad was getting a feminine touch. Fine by me, as long as it was Tal’s touch. We just needed to tackle the fifty plus boxes sitting on and around our billiard table—which by the way, she didn’t want changed out for a dining room table. Sweet, especially since it was getting plenty of use and not from shooting pool.
Turned out that packing was the easy part for Tal. She had enough complicated decisions to contend with regarding her practice and her house that discarding and donating didn’t make the cut. Obviously.
In the end she decided to keep her place in San Diego and rent it out. There was no reason not to. It was a great investment and she wanted Tack to have the option of going back if he ever wanted. I had her number; it was sentimental. As for her practice, she had no problem finding a buyer. One of her junior partners jumped all over it. She was sitting on a goldmine, one she worked her ass off to build—as a single mother, no less. She deserved every pretty penny she got and I couldn’t have been prouder. So that only left her with deciding which job to accept here. Yup, she had multiple offers. Of course she did, she was brilliant and successful. After weeks of negotiations, she bucked the elite private groups and signed with the hospital: Dermatology Residency Director. Impressive. Turned me on.
Tal was extremely self-sufficient and handled all her transactions sans me. Every so often she’d throw me a bone and ask for my two cents, but it was obvious she was being sweet and stroking my ego. She knew it wasn’t in my nature to not get involved or not assume some sort of control. Turned out, we’re much the same. And if it was even possible, that independence and confidence made her that much more sexy. So while Tal was out strutting in her chic business suits, I had some time to get to know her son. And I was feeling pretty damn lucky to have another afternoon with him.
“Um, have you met her? I’m scared shitless.”
Tack laughed again. We both knew you never messed with a woman on a mission.
“So how’s it feel to have another year under your belt? Just that much closer to the goal.”
Tack finished his sophomore year last month in the top of his class. No surprises there. And he was continuing with his research straight through the summer. I was pretty sure his new girlfriend who landed a spot on his research team only played a small role in the motivation factor. We’d luckily—according to Tal who said Tack was very secretive when it came to introducing her to any of his girlfriends—gotten to meet her twice. Tal liked her, commenting on her intelligence and manners. I agreed, she was smart and polite, but I also saw what Tack saw and she seemed to fill all those features out very nicely too. So after a couple of high fives and several fist bumps, Tack knew I approved.
“Pretty awesome, looking forward to some time off.”
“I’ll have to get you and your girl out on the boat with us. My brother-in-law just dropped a fifty-footer in the water. Promised I could take it for a spin.”
“Sweet. I haven’t done much sailing, but Paige has. She grew up on the water.”
“Good to hear, she’s a beauty and it would be nice to have another set of hands that know what they’re doing. We sailed as kids, but your mom’s got to be pretty rusty,” I teased. “Let me know a couple weekends you’re free, we’ll pick a date. So besides your research, do you hav
e any other plans for the summer?”
“MCAT prep starts in two weeks. Other than that, not too much.”
“Isn’t it early for that?”
“Not really. I’ve already taken all the pre-reqs. If I secure a solid score then I get it out of the way and it leaves next summer open to figure out where I want to go.”
And I thought Chase was hardcore. Damn.
“Intense much?”
“Oh, cause you’re one to talk. Slackers all have a top five firm by the time they’re thirty. Just saying.”
I crossed my arms and leaned my back against the chair with a shit-eating smirk plastered to my face. I guess smartass was hereditary. And his delivery of “just saying” killed mine.
“Touché. So where are you thinking?”
“Not sure. East coast preferably, especially now that Mom’s out here. Would rather stay close, in case she needs anything.”
“What am I, chopped liver?”
This time he leaned back, his grin mirroring my own. “No disrespect, but she’s my mom.”
Point made. The kid was not only loyal to a fault and overprotective, but he had a set a balls. I liked him. In fact, I couldn’t have handpicked a more perfect stepson. Who would have thought those words would ever leave my mouth? Kids were never a glimpse on my radar, yet here I was watching him, listening to him, and shit, I’d be lying if I didn’t wish he was mine.
I lifted my chin, acknowledging his not-so-subtle message. “None taken. You know you’d make her day if you stayed in Boston? Besides, sounds like you’ve already set yourself up pretty well, not to mention your mother was just appointed a faculty position. Sure you’d be a shoo-in.”
“True, but I want to be accepted on my own accord, not family connections.”
“I hear ya, but you really should speak to Chase.” He brought up family, so I went there. “He might have gone to med school here, but he trained in New York and worked in Philly for a while, too. I’m sure he has some good insight on the med schools there. Pick his brain a little. He’s not getting you into med school, but he’s a great guy to bounce some ideas off of. Not to mention both those cities keep you close to home.”
He didn’t flinch when I referred to Boston as his home, but he definitely flinched when I mentioned Chase’s name. Having a half-brother twice his age was the part of his plate he was having the hardest time digesting. They still hadn’t met. And not from a lack of trying on Tal’s part. Tack was conveniently always busy or had exams to study for. Shockingly, Chase read between the lines and respected his need for space. It had to be tough though, since the kid spent a good amount of time only two flights down in his hospital. When the semester ended and Tack was out of excuses, it seemed like it was finally going to happen, but Chase got stuck in the OR and missed dinner. Not surprising, Lil and Tack hit it off effortlessly that night.
“Yeah, maybe.” Not an overwhelming response, but he didn’t shoot the idea down either. Progress.
“Your brother’s actually got a sick place on the Upper West Side, sitting there empty. Just another perk to keep in mind. You’d just have to hint at wanting to go to med school in Manhattan and Lil would have a set of keys in your hand that day.”
Tack tipped his head, raised his brows and glared. Fine, I let it go.
Our waiter dropped off our lunch and refilled our waters.
“Gotta love the loaded burger, nothing better really.” I shifted to small talk, giving him a break—last thing I wanted was him shutting down. But I wasn’t lying, a good burger did wonders. One whiff and I flashed back to my own college days, the healthier ones obviously. Burgers, beers, and chicks. Hell, what was I talking about? Up until eight months ago I was still living under that heading. “Paige eat burgers?”
“Yeah, she’s cool like that.” His response made me laugh, reminding me of my own bacon eating girl. Yeah, he picked a good one. “So I’ve been thinking...” So much for a potential shutdown.
“Uh-oh. Should I be worried?” I half joked, knowing he wanted to meet for a reason, the extensive burger menu not being it.
“Nah.” His jaw tensed and he looked serious. Tack and I usually kept it light, current events, sports, cars, technology—typical guy talk. I wasn’t sure I was ready for Tack doing serious. “You know I grew up thinking my dad was the shit.” Yup. He was diving in. “And when she told me she made it all up—she created him for my benefit—I’m gonna be honest with you, I was crushed.” Fucking headfirst. I sat quiet, there was no sugarcoating Jack Colton. “Don’t get me wrong, I get why she did it. I get she was protecting me, but I basically grew up idolizing a huge lie, a figment of her imagination. At least that’s what I thought when she first told me the truth. That sucked. The more I thought about it, something didn’t sit right. It’s not like she ever shied away from talking about him, afraid she’d slip up. She could have easily played the whole it’s too sad, too painful, too tragic how he died without knowing me card. Nope. Instead she reminded me, daily, how much he would have loved me, talking about him constantly. She retold so many stories and filled my life with so much of his love I didn’t need to miss him. She made him so present in our lives and filled both parent roles seamlessly, I didn’t need a physical father. She was all I ever needed. So when I learned the truth … when I learned who he really was, I was angry. It scared the hell out me, I’d never been that furious. Ever feel like you’re going to implode?”
I nodded in response, been there. The silence thickened. I waited. He had more to get off his chest.
“I’m glad the bastard is dead, too bad it wasn’t years before, and not only for what he put her through, but for the fear in her eyes when she told me about him. It made me sick. And then to think I saw that same look on her face when she bumped into you at the hospital. You can see why I wasn’t exactly feeling the let’s get to know each other. Sorry, it’s the truth. But I’ve had some time to let it all settle, and in doing so, I’ve paid closer attention. I see the relief in her eyes. I can’t explain it, but she’s lighter, softer, she’s happy. And I know it’s not just the freedom of not carrying around the secrets, it’s you. You do that for her. So I’m glad we’ve gotten to know each other and we’re cool…”
I nodded and mumbled, “We’re cool,” unable to get out anything more. His understanding leveled me, but I still wasn’t quite sure where he was going with this. Like mother, like son.
“The other thing I’ve noticed is the change in her smile. Don’t get me wrong, I grew up with a happy mom and this might sound dumb, but that smile is back. The one she reserved for when she talked about my dad, or my imaginary dad or whatever you want to call him. It doesn’t really matter now, does it? Anyway, she made him sound awesome. He had a sick sense of humor and great taste in music. Our house never lacked rock and roll with a kickass beat. I’m pretty sure I celebrated my first birthday with my first pair of drumsticks.” He smiled and tapped the table with his fingers mocking a drumbeat.
My lips raised, remembering how his mother loved to rock out and couldn’t help but ask, “You still play?” Tack on the drums, god, I loved this woman. But I wondered how much she told him, if he had any idea where his name came from.
“Not much anymore, no time. But I’d definitely consider getting back into it. Every time I jammed, she’d talk about your band.” That sounded vague. “And then her face would light up with that smile. She always said my dad loved a good time and never sweated the small stuff. He rolled with the punches. He was the guy who’d have your back, no matter what. He considered his friends family.” He paused for a swig before he kept going.
“You know she was a nut when it came to fresh air? Serious. She harped on how he’d always pick the outdoors any day of the week over inside. Only chance I had to stay inside was if I was studying or practicing. No joke, my ass was hiking, biking, and surfing by seven. Most of how I grew up, what I learned to be important, it was all a reflection of him. Mom made sure of it. And I have to give it to her, she creat
ed a kickass role model. It was obvious she loved him—you can’t fake a smile like that.
“Look, I’m not going to lie. As a kid, I never really thought too hard about my mom’s love life. Hell, I don’t really want to think about it now, or ever for that matter.” He involuntarily shuddered and I chuckled. I had Maggie, yeah, I got it. “That being said, I get that she’s gorgeous and she’s cool, my buddies not-so-subtly reminded me daily, yet she rarely dated. Or at least if she did it couldn’t have been that serious, since I never met any of them. Besides, between work and how involved she was in my life, she barely had time for herself. The past few years I started feeling guilty about it, but I guess my consolation was knowing she’d get her life back once I left for college, and the fact that she had at least had my dad. Part of me thought it was awesome that she wouldn’t settle for less. The next guy would have to be worthy of that smile. So finding out all of it was nothing more than a fantasy … or maybe not. I guess you’re probably wondering why I’m telling you any of this. My point is … she smiles at you that way.”
He raked a hand through his dark hair and dropped his eyes to the table. His relaxed expression faded as I watched him concentrate on swallowing what I could only assume was the same damn lump I was struggling with. I briefly scanned his face before I looked away to give him some time. In that brief second I saw vulnerability, a youthful innocence I had yet to notice. Yeah, he was eighteen, big-time college student, ambitious, driven and most likely going to be a sick surgeon rivaling the likes of his brother one day. But right now in this moment, he was just a kid. A kid looking to find his way.
Beautifully Done Page 20
