by Diana Gardin
Mea stares after him, her eyes filled with pure delight. “I love him. Can he be my best friend?”
Shaking my head, I pull her past the prying eyes of the guys and lock the door of my office behind us. Setting the bag of food down on my chair, I lift Mea up easily and sit her on top of my desk. She leans back on her arms, and gives me one dark, provocative look.
I’m standing between her legs in a heartbeat. Unbuttoning my dark gray coveralls, I let them hang down around my waist as I capture her face in my hands. Cradling it, I bring her mouth to mine.
Mea uses her nails to rake a path up my back, pushing the fabric of my wife beater up as she goes. Letting one hand drift around to the back of her neck, I hold her to me while I find the hem of her shirt with the other. Pulling apart, she lifts her arms and I pull the shirt off over her head and toss it over my shoulder. Pulling back from her, but keeping my eyes locked on her gorgeousness, I let the coveralls fall. Stepping out of them, I pull the tank over my head and drop it before shedding my boxers. Then I reach past her to open my desk drawer. Grabbing my wallet, I rip a foil packet from its pocket and tear it open.
She watches me, a hungry expression on her face while she sits on the desk. When I’m fully bared to her, it’s clear from the sight of my throbbing erection that I can’t wait much longer to be inside of her. She hops down off the desk and makes quick work of her stretchy black pants, and then the black thong panties she’s wearing underneath.
My eyes drift closed as she takes the condom from my hand and rolls it, agonizingly slowly, down my shaft.
“Damn, baby. Should have spent more time undressing you.” Moving toward her, I lift her into my arms. Spinning her around, her back bumps against the office door. Pinned there, she trains kisses down on my shoulders while the softest part of her lines up in perfect symmetry with the hardest part of me.
Groaning, I bury my face in her neck. Her spicy smell overwhelms me; I could be on fire. “Do you know what you do to me?”
Whimpering as I begin to rub the long hard length of me against her, she bites down on my shoulder in a way that I never thought I’d love. Sex with Mea is freedom.
“Wait.” My voice is a pant. “Is this…okay with you? In my office, against the door?” I search her face, looking for any sign that she’s not completely with me. There isn’t one, but I need to hear it from her mouth that she’s completely comfortable with what we’re doing right now.
“This is…new for me, Drake. But with you, I know I’m safe. My rules don’t apply here. Not anymore.” She holds my gaze, and I know she’s being open and honest with me.
When I enter her, it’s with the most unbelievable melding of bodies, and the way her insides clench around me creates a display of fireworks behind my closed eyelids.
“Perfect, baby. Always perfect.” My voice is a pant as I pump in and out of her.
There are times for savoring a woman. For making her feel safe, for making her feel loved. There are times to take it slow and times to make sure every single inch of her is taken care of before you dive in. But with Mea’s unexpected visit and the way she made my insides light up when she sat on my desk made this not one of those times.
It’s the time to take her fast, hard, and rough.
She cries out my name as I plunge into her, and the sound is so devastatingly sexy that I use a hand to cover her mouth as I continue to drive home. Her teeth scrape against my hand, matching the scratch of her nails against my back. When the muscles of her pussy clench tight around me, I grunt with the sheer pleasure of it. She’s trembling, her slick body colliding with mine as she climaxes.
It’s breathtaking.
Unable to hold on, I follow her as my own orgasm takes ahold of me, drawing me up tight and making me tumble over and over again in the place where perfect bliss lives.
For the next minute, the only sounds in my office are the breaths we take as we try to gather ourselves again. Finally, I let Mea go and she slides down my body, waking me up again to the sweet way her body sculpts against mine. I can’t let her go far, sandwiching her in my arms between my body and the wall. She’s tiny in the space before me, making me feel like the Incredible Hulk as I tower over her.
“Well, that’s not exactly what I had in mind when I decided to bring you lunch.” She lifts a finger to trace my lips, which makes me remember her words on a dark night in the Challenger.
“Don’t put your fingers where they don’t belong if you don’t want them to end up wet and hot.” My tongue darts out to lick her finger and she smirks, her eyes darkening.
“I like wet and hot.”
Groaning, I pick her up and deposit her back on my desk while I retrieve my clothes and dress hastily. She dresses slowly, not taking her eyes off me in the process. Between us, electricity sizzles as we both replay what we just did over and over again in our minds.
I’m never going to look at my office the same way again. Mea has christened it her spot now, like so many other places in my life she’s taken over.
As I finish buttoning my coveralls, I finally notice the aromas coming from the bag on my desk. “What’d you bring? Now I’m starving.”
She pulls a spread out of the bag, hot deli sandwiches, pickles, chips, and fruit. We divvy the food up between us, and while I sit on my desk chair to dig in, I hate the thought of her being all the way on the other side of the big piece of furniture. So I pull her into my lap, situating her on one side so we can both enjoy the lunch she brought.
“You haven’t heard anything from that bastard, have you?”
It’s how I always refer to her father. He doesn’t deserve the title, and I refuse to give it to him. He will forever be “the bastard.” I can’t stand the haunted look that appears in Mea’s eyes whenever she talks about him, but I can’t risk her not telling me if he attempts to contact her.
Ever since she told me what he did to her…that night in particular it took every ounce of self-control I had not to hunt him down and peel his skin off, bit by bit, just so he could feel an ounce of the pain he inflicted on his daughter. I always knew…there was something underneath every smile, every carefree look, every laugh. The nasty demon known as her father has been hiding just under the surface, haunting her. For years.
When I’m alone, it’s harder. There’s nothing stopping me from finding him, except the fact that Mea would know. And she’d worry about me. If I can spare her one more second of worrying in this lifetime, I’ll do it.
But if he ever decides to attempt to walk back into her life or make contact with her in any way, he’s a dead man. I’ll use every single connection I’ve made over the years as an army Ranger and through the Night Eagle Security team to make sure he never sees the light of day again. And sacrificing my own freedom to make sure he never hurts her again?
It’s nothing to me.
She gives a quick little shake of her head. “Nothing.” Pulling the corner of her bottom lip into her mouth, she nibbles on it, pulling my focus there for a second while she’s lost in thought. “I don’t know what I expected, Drake. I mean, it’s a good thing, right? That he hasn’t found me? But it wouldn’t be hard. I changed my name, but he knows that they would have sent us to live with Aunt Tay and Uncle Wes. They were the only relatives we had.”
I stay silent, listening to her vent her worries. But I’m glad I made sure she stayed close to me during lunch. The contact is comforting for me as well as for her.
“Do you know that Mikah and I had never even met our aunt and uncle? My father alienated my mother from her own sister.”
Shaking my head, I lace my fingers through hers and lift our joined hands to my lips. “Men like him…they have to control it all. If they don’t, they can’t function. My mom dated a few like that when I was growing up. Your mother was a victim of his, probably more than you even know.”
“She died…” Her voice has dropped to a whisper, one broken and full of years of perfected sorrow. “She died a few months after. After Mikah
and I were sent to live in North Carolina. My aunt brought us back to Kentucky for a quick funeral, but I still don’t know exactly what happened to her. I always thought…she just ended it all. There was nothing left for her.”
I rest my chin on her shoulder. “I’m sorry she had to endure what she did. And I’m sorry that you had to be so damn strong all the time…it wasn’t fair for a kid. But, Mea…I’ve never known anyone with more strength than you. And I served with men who could bench-press two or three of you. You are the strongest person I know.”
She leans back against me, allowing me to fully wrap her in my arms. She fits there, against my chest. I don’t know if I believe in the idea of two people being created to be together. I’m not even sure if I believe there is a higher power that created us all. Not with the childhood that I had. And now that I know Mea, I’m even less sure that God would allow a child to suffer as much as she did.
But if I did believe in any of that, it would be pretty damn hard to deny the fact that she is my perfect complement in every single way. Now that we’ve both stopped dancing around each other and have realized that we’re better together than we are apart, I can’t believe I spent the past few years keeping my distance.
What a waste.
“Sometimes, being strong is exhausting.” Her confession sounds like something she’s never said aloud. Her voice is weary, down to the very core of her. Her body sags against me, her head heavy against my heartbeat. But I know without a doubt how true her admission is.
“And those are the times that you lean on me, sweetheart. Let me be strong for you.”
I will be strong enough.
20
Mea
A few days after I brought Drake lunch at the garage, I’m sitting in Wilmington’s trendiest wedding boutique sipping a mimosa while watching Berkeley be fitted for her wedding dress. The frothy drink tickles my lips. On this Saturday morning, Berkeley isn’t the only bride-to-be donning a white gown, but in my opinion she’s definitely the most beautiful.
“Holy hotness, girl.” I eye her from top to bottom with true appreciation. “Every guest on that beach is going to hold their breath when they see you coming down the aisle.”
Berkeley turns this way and that, admiring her choice of dress in the three-way mirror while the seamstress looks on with happiness behind her.
“It’s amazing, Berk.” Chase’s wife, Shay, joins us today, and she looks positively radiant with her short, stylish garnet-colored hair and rockabilly flair.
Greta admires Berkeley’s dress with equal admiration. “I swear. Dare is going to have trouble standing there waiting for you to come to him. He’s going to want to leap over wedding guests to get to you.”
Berkeley’s lush curves are encased in an off-white fit-and-flare gown made of the softest crepe satin. The material fits flush on her torso and drips with the most delicate embroidered lace I’ve ever seen. The satin flares out at her knees, rippling into waves of silk that pool around her feet and trail out into a perfectly formed train behind her. More lace finishes the hem of the gown, framing the entire thing with pretty accents.
She turns around, and we all sigh at the appearance of the backside. The scooped back is dramatic, reaching down to the top of her tailbone. An illusion back gives a sense of modesty despite the plunging drop, and it’s littered with rhinestones and pearls. Wide lace straps finish out the stunning, runway-ready look.
Standing, I place my glass down on a side table. I glide over to my best friend and gather her into a tight hug. My own set of tears begins to prickle the backs of my eyes, and I blink rapidly to keep them at bay
“You are more than beautiful,” I whisper. “And I’m so, so proud of you.”
Two more sets of arms fold around us, and then we’re all entwined in a tangled mess of a group hug. When we finally separate, the seamstress is fluttering around with a look of pure terror on her face and Berkeley is ordering us to go and change into our dresses.
In my own dressing room, I slip on the champagne-colored gown Berkeley chose for me. It’s flirty and fun, because…well, Berkeley. The strapless top is made from silky beaded satin. It stretches taut over my breasts when it’s zipped, and the fluffy tulle skirt flares out at my waist and ends just at my knees. I try on the heels we picked out to match the dresses, strappy stilettos the same color as the dress.
As we all stand in our matching dresses, being nipped and tucked by the seamstress, we discuss the upcoming nuptials at length.
“Only three weeks to go.” Berkeley sighs, with a blissed-out smile on her face. It’s the expression I’ve come to know and love whenever she’s talking about Dare. He’s truly the love of her life, and he makes her happier than I’ve ever seen her before.
I give an exaggerated sigh, checking out my legs in the mirror. I might be the shortest girl in the wedding party, but the heels are doing killer things to my calves. “Only three weeks to come up with a sufficiently embarrassing toast for the reception.”
Berkeley gasps. “Stop! My parents will embarrass me enough, don’t worry.” Her eyes widen as she notices the way I look in my bridesmaid’s gown. “Oh, my God! Your boobs look ah-mazing!” She sings the last word, her voice traveling up to a higher pitch.
Checking the mirror, I smile. “Is it the dress?”
Greta turns in the mirror so she can see the sparkling back of the dress. “Must be, Mea. I mean, you’re actually in danger of spillage.”
Grinning, an impish surge of devilry bounces around inside me. “So, will Drake want to rip this dress off me before the night is over?”
All three girls burst out laughing. I shoot them my most calculating grin. Shaking their heads, Greta and Shay head for the dressing rooms to change out of their gowns. As I’m stepping down off the box, Berkeley grabs my hand.
Her smile is warm and genuine. “Seeing you with Drake makes me so happy, Mea. It makes me feel like I don’t have to worry about you, you know?”
Warmth flushes my cheeks and I squeeze her hand. “Why would you worry about me?”
She sighs, searching my eyes. “Because on the outside, you’re always so sure of yourself and confident, and you act like nothing can ever hurt you. But deep down, I know you deal with stuff. Maybe even more stuff than the rest of us. I just hope that you’ll really open up to Drake. He’s such a good guy. If anyone can protect you and help you deal with your demons, it’s him.”
Her ability to see right through the walls I’ve thrown up around me over the years to protect myself from harm and from humiliation scares me. Berkeley has been there for me ever since I moved to North Carolina. It never mattered to her that I didn’t come from money the way she did. It never fazed her that her parents hadn’t approved of our friendship. She was always honest with me, and she stuck by me no matter what.
One of these days, I would need to open up to Berkeley and Greta the same way I did for Drake. They deserve to know me, really know me.
And I’m surprised to discover that I want them to.
I don’t want to hide behind walls anymore. I want to open myself up to these people I’ve come to think of as my family.
And with shock, I realize that Drake is the one who’s made me okay to do that. His becoming my soft place to land has made everything in my life seem easier. It doesn’t feel like I have to climb a mountain all alone anymore.
He’s changing me, and I like the person I’m becoming.
“So, this is your baby.” The understanding in Drake’s voice is warm honey, poured all over my heart. “This is awesome.”
After our dress fitting, I grabbed some lunch with the girls. Berkeley’s mother joined us. She’d seen the dress during Berkeley’s original shopping trip, and the experience was so stressful for Berkeley she’d declined inviting the woman I’ve always called the Ice Queen back for the fitting. During lunch she grilled us about the dress and the way it fit. And then she proceeded to exhaust the finer points of the wedding details until Berkeley felt as though
the event was a noose hanging around her neck rather than the upcoming happiest day of her life.
I’ve never been so happy to see a lunch date come to an end. I hightailed it out of there, exuberant to know I’d be spending the evening with my two favorite men.
“You think so?” I worry my lip, watching his reaction closely as he evaluates the space I’ve chosen for my yoga studio.
I scan the mostly empty area. The space is actually two retail storefronts combined to give me enough space for a yoga studio, changing room, office, and front reception area. The space is pretty much empty, but the money I’m saving will actually turn it into the yoga studio I’ve been dreaming of.
Drake slowly spins around, taking in my dream with a pensive look. He walks around the entire thing, touching walls and visually measuring.
“I’ve already leased it,” I offer with trepidation. “That’s where all of my money is going right now. It’s why I live in a craphole. So I won’t lose this space. It’s too perfect to let go of. Even though I’m not ready to open yet.”
His warm brown eyes are full of perceptive compassion. “That’s a strain on you, isn’t it?”
Shaking my head, my curls whip me in the face. “It doesn’t matter. This is my dream.”
He comes toward me, not stopping until he stands just before me. Wrapping his hands around my waist, he pulls me in close. “I understand dreams. That’s all the garage was before I got it up and running. But this?” He gestures around him at my future business. “This won’t take much. Will you let me help you?”
Will you let me help you?
Over the years, the answer to that question has always been a firm no. I learned early on that the only person who I could really count on to help me was myself. I hate the thought of being someone else’s burden. I hate the thought of having to depend on anyone. And the thought of owing someone something? It makes me absolutely nauseated.
