Legally Yours (Spitfire Book 1)

by Nicole French

  “Nothing’s going on, Ray,” he replied.

  “Well, it doesn’t really add up,” Ray said. “You call me or Susan, what, once every few weeks or so? And the only time you usually show up is when you’ve got some sort of personal problem you can’t sort out. Last time it was because that other woman was suing. Is that done with? What’s going on with this girl? Did you get her pregnant? There are clinics that can help you take care of that, you know. You’re thirty-seven, Bran; I think you need to learn to deal with these things on your own.”

  Brandon set his half-full beer can down on the edge of the desk hard enough that a bit of beer spurted out and drifted down the sides. Ray immediately picked it up and wiped the liquid from the table. Brandon stood up and pulled me from my chair with him. I was barely able to set my beer down on Ray’s desk while I was tugged backward toward the office doorway.

  “Nothing’s going on, Ray,” he said. “I met someone, and I wanted her to meet you. You’ve met, so we can get out of your hair. That’s it. Tell Susan I said hi. Come on, Skylar.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Dr. Petersen,” I offered as I was practically dragged out of the small, book-strewn space.

  Ray didn’t look up from his small workspace; he had already dumped our beers in the garbage and had pivoted back to the messy equation on his desk. He held one hand up in farewell and gestured a mock-salute in response.

  Brandon turned and left, and with one last glance at the very small man sitting in his very small office, I followed him into the hall.

  ~

  Chapter 20

  “Can I ask you something?”

  We made our way slowly back down the sober, concrete stairwell, each footstep echoing up the shaft listlessly in a way that I couldn’t stand for more than two more seconds.

  “What’s that?” Brandon asked distantly as he continued to guide me down, one big hand settled lightly at the small of my back.

  “What was he talking about, that you need to learn to deal with these things on your own? What things was he talking about?”

  Beside me, Brandon sighed. “Your dad and grandma. Do you ever feel like they treat you like a little kid when you’re around?”

  “Constantly,” I admitted, thinking particularly of Bubbe.

  “Well, that’s Ray. We didn’t get on so well in the beginning, he and I, and he still sees me as the headstrong fuckup they took in, no matter how long it’s been.”

  “So, the woman he mentioned…”

  “Ancient history,” Brandon said quickly. “Seriously. Nothing to worry about.”

  We continued to walk until the echoes of the stairwell once again carried too much tension.

  “Did the Petersens ever adopt you?” I asked abruptly

  Brandon’s eyes flashed to me as we approached another flight, and then looked back down the stairwell with a frown. “No.”

  “Could they have?”

  Brandon remained silent as we continued downward, our footsteps filling the gap in the conversation.

  “The Petersens were the best parents someone in my position could have hoped for,” he said finally. “They took me in, they cared for me, and they let me stay for ten years, well past the time I was a ward of the state. I think that’s enough, don’t you?”

  I didn’t, but I wasn’t going to say that. It was becoming clear that Ray Petersen had wanted to play some kind of Good Will Hunting role in Brandon’s life: rescue the brilliant kid from the projects to pad his own accomplishments. Instead, Brandon’s desire to go beyond academia had proved a bitter disappointment. Maybe Ray hadn’t yet forgiven him for it.

  Brandon, on the other hand, deserved to be loved unconditionally—everyone did. I may have only had one flawed parent and a pushy grandmother willing to give that to me, but it was a damn sight more than some kids got. I wasn’t sure why Ray Petersen didn’t take that extra step. From what I could tell so far, there was a lot to love about their foster son.

  We walked the remaining stairs to the bottom of the stairwell in silence again, Brandon a few paces ahead of me. When I was two steps from the bottom, I grabbed Brandon’s jacket sleeve, pulling him to stop before he could open the heavy door into the lobby. With my extra twelve inches, our eyes were close to even. There I could see some unnamable pain he couldn’t quite mask, and my heart squeezed as he stared, open and vulnerable, back at me. So much of what he did now made more and more sense. It was all an attempt to make up for what he had missing his entire life.

  “What is it, Red?” he asked softly, reaching out one hand to tuck a stray lock away from my face.

  For a moment I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know quite what I wanted to say, but I was moved by his choice to take me here. It couldn’t have been easy for him. I wanted to tell Brandon that he deserved to be loved. I wanted to say I could be that person one day if he’d let me in. I wanted to tell him he was amazing when he was content to just be himself.

  But instead I just reaching up one hand and mirrored his action as I brushed a few errant strands off his forehead. He was perfectly still, that same, vulnerable expression frozen onto his features as I traced my fingers around his ear and down the strong lines of his stubbled jaw, brushing my thumb gently over his full bottom lip.

  “Thank you for taking me here,” I finally whispered. “I’m so…lucky. To know you. You deserve to know that.”

  He blinked, obviously confused, but before he could respond, I leaned in and pressed my lips softly into his.

  The brief contact sent an immediately shock wave through both of us, but I struggled to hold him close. A few seconds passed, and his lips finally relaxed, responding for a few seconds before he pulled away. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me again, but all traces of vulnerability had disappeared, replaced by something harder.

  “Are you trying to fix me, Skylar?” he asked softly.

  His blazing stare rendered me motionless, and I couldn’t look away.

  “No,” I replied, my voice suddenly small. Was I? He had looked so lost in that office, and I had wanted to do...I don’t know…something to take that feeling away.

  He blinked again, slowly.

  “I don’t need to be fixed,” he said emphatically.

  He slid one arm firmly around my waist and jerked me up against him so that I could feel every inch of his iron body from my chest down to my toes. The lost boy was gone, and what had replaced him was a very strong man who could clearly do whatever he wanted with me.

  “I don’t need…” he trailed off as he buried his nose into my neck, pushing the collar of my sweater off my shoulder so he could nip the edge of my collarbone in a way that made me forget just where I was. He trailed back up, brushing his rough check against mine. “To be fixed,” he growled before taking my lips again.

  There was no question in his statement at all; he wasn’t looking for a rebuke. And before I could protest, his lips were on mine, this time in a deep, forceful kiss that seemed to seep into every nerve ending of my body. His tongue sought entry to my mouth, and as soon as I opened my lips, he twisted it around mine with avarice, pressing into me deeply as if he couldn’t taste me enough.

  In a few swift movements, Brandon reached around my waist and lifted me off the stairs, backing me up against the wall beneath the stairwell, where we were hidden in the shadow from anyone who might come walking in through the bottom entrance. He continued to ravage my mouth and neck, his large hands pulling my coat open and undoing the button and zipper to my pants with deft, demanding movements. He yanked my pants and underwear down my thighs in one swift motion, and while one hand continued to hold me around my waist like a vice, the other slipped in between my legs, thrusting one finger, and then two into the slick cleft waiting for him.

  “Jesus!” I moaned, breaking away from his mouth, which he in turn used to nip mercilessly at my earlobe.

  “Christ, Red,” he hissed in my ear as he slipped a third finger in to join the other two. “You’re fucking dripping for me
down here, baby. You’ve been wanting this as bad as me, haven’t you?”

  His proclamation only made me quake further and press my body further against his hand. I was glad he was there to hold me up, because as his fingers continued to drive me further toward the edge of losing my consciousness, I was quickly losing the ability to stand on my own.

  “I got you, Skylar,” he purred, pressing with his thumb the sensitive spot just above where his fingers continued their onslaught. “Just let go, baby.”

  It didn’t take much more than that before his talented fingers pushed me over the edge and I felt my senses split into a million pieces. His mouth sealed over mine once more, forcing his tongue inside to silence the moans that threatened to echo through the entire stairwell.

  Before my mind came back down from where I was floating, he suddenly turned me toward the wall with a quick, brutal motion, yanking my pants the rest of the way down to my ankles. He took his hands away just long enough to unbuckle his pants, and I heard the tell-tale crinkle of a condom wrapper just before I felt the head of his large and very hard cock pushing behind my legs from behind.

  He slipped one hand beneath my shirt and up to cup my breast and pinch my nipple through the lace of my bra. I bucked against him at the sensation, moaning at the feeling of his swollen member rubbing against my wet opening. His other hand skimmed down to my hip, tugging my backside into him further so I was pushed out against the cold, rough wall. His fingers went back to massaging my clit, causing the building in my belly to start all over again.

  “I’m going to fuck you, Skylar,” he rumbled into my ear. “Do you want to take it? Do you want my cock in you?”

  I couldn’t say anything but moan, but I nodded my head. “God, yes,” I managed to croak as his fingers start to move fast on my clit.

  Roughly, he spread my legs as far as they could within the confines of the garments still twisted around my ankles. The thick length of him glided easily between my thighs, teasing my throbbing center with the tip until I started to push back to meet him. With one swift strike, he filled me completely. The hand on my breast dropped to my hip as he pulled out and slammed back in. He picked up the pace slightly, thrusting evenly to cause that strange feeling I had only experienced once before—just a few weeks ago—to build inside me.

  “Tell me,” he growled in between hoarse breaths as he continued his unforgiving work. The fingers on my clit stroked with a rhythm that matched his hips, and I was finding it increasingly hard to think. “Tell me you want me.”

  “Jesus,” I breathed as he slammed into me again. “I do. God, Brandon, I want you so fucking bad.”

  He hurtled in and out of me, skin slapping skin with every ferocious movement, the sounds of our bodies meeting echoing up the stairwell of the entire building. The tension in my belly had spread throughout my entire lower body, and I could feel another orgasm approaching with every single thrust, every single pinch.

  “I want you to come, Skylar,” Brandon ordered behind. “I want to feel your pussy squeeze every last drop out of my cock.”

  Every movement pushed me higher and higher as Brandon rubbed my G-spot with the same tortuous rhythm he was using on my clit.

  “Now, Skylar!” he commanded. He pulled out one more time, and with his final, hard thrust, I fell forward against wall, gripping the texture of the hard, condensed pebbles with my fingertips. I moaned into it, having lost all control over my body and my mind. With a loud grunt behind me, Brandon collapsed over my back, his cock throbbing with his release as he shuddered into the bared skin of my neck.

  ~

  When I finally started to return to reality, the hard surface of the concrete wall rubbed uncomfortably against my cheek. I was standing in a dark stairwell of MIT, where several faculty members of the most prestigious technical institute in the world could plausibly see me with my pants around my ankles.

  Well, at least it wasn’t an HLS building.

  I shifted my body, and Brandon pulled out with a sigh that sounded almost regretful. As gracefully as I could, I squatted down to tug my pants back up, wondering just what I had done. I had promised myself I’d take it slow with him. Considering it wasn’t like me to have sex with a man on our first date, it definitely wasn’t like me to have sex in a public stairwell. Not to mention lose control like that…again. I was starting to rack up quite a few things on the list of out-of-character actions I seemed to do when I was with Brandon.

  When I looked up, I found Brandon staring at me, his chest still heaving from his effort, although he had neatly closed his pants and somehow disposed of the condom. In the aftermath of the moment, I found myself noticing all sorts of small details about him I hadn’t seen before. He had a tiny scar that notched just right of his left eyebrow, and the few worry lines crisscrossing his brow above eyes that currently glowed the color of the Caribbean. I watched as a drop of sweat made its way down from his hairline down the bridge of a slightly crooked nose. I reached up with a finger and wiped it away before it could drip to the floor, and my touch seemed to break our silent trance.

  He blinked, then stamped a brief but thorough kiss on my swollen lips before pushing away from the wall. He looked appreciatively at my position, pants still undone, before he reached down to help me button up my jeans.

  “Don’t,” I said sheepishly, batting his hands away so I could fix them faster than he could. After what he had just done to me, I could handle redressing myself.

  “I, ah…” he began, trailing off as he ran a sheepish hand through his mussed hair. I reached out and smoothed some of it down around his ear, and was rewarded with a heart-meltingly smile as he grabbed my hand and kissed it briefly.

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” he said against my palm before releasing it.

  “I wasn’t either,” I murmured, my face turning red as I recalled again what we had just done.

  But if he thought less of me, he showed no signs of it as he pulled me roughly to him and nuzzled into my neck.

  “You seem to bring things out in me…” he murmured. “I don’t know. This was very…out of the ordinary.”

  I blew a long, relieved breath out as I welcomed his touch. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

  He stood up and smiled as he smoothed his hair back a bit more, then reached out and tucked a few of my wayward strands back into place behind my ears.

  “Come on, Red, let’s get out of this dungeon,” he said gruffly as he tugged his scarf back into place. “I’m starving, and I’m thinking pizza and some decent beer are in order.”

  ~

  Chapter 21

  I hoped that whatever demons Brandon had been struggling with after introducing me to his foster father would be vanquished a mostly silent walk to the T at Kendall Square. After informing David that we were going to take the train to the North End, Brandon had spent the remainder of the ten-minute walk holding my hand and brooding silently, not even stopping to point out any of the other buildings where he had likely spent most of his time during those formative years of his life. Instead, he strode quickly and efficiently past the darkened campus, forcing me at time to jog just to keep up.

  By the time we descended into the brightly lit T station, I was relieved by the general din of public transportation.

  “Did you remember your tokens?” I asked, batting my eyes profusely as we approached the turnstiles where we could swipe our Charlie cards.

  “Very funny,” he said, but surprised me as he whipped out a card for himself. He waved in in front of my face before swiping himself through. “First thing I did after I got back to Boston.”

  “Because you take the T all the time, right?” I said I as stepped through.

  “Apparently now I do,” he said with a grin. He reached out and took my hand again as we walked to the downtown track.

  “I have some hand sanitizer if you need it,” I whispered when his nose wrinkled when we passed a corner that smelled distinctly of urine. “You know, if you can handle h
anging with us hoi polloi.”

  Brandon rolled his eyes. “You act like I was raised with a damn silver spoon. I’ll let you know if I need some help.”

  He released my hand and slid an arm around my waist companionably, just before he reached a little lower to pinch my backside. My squawks were apparently better than he expected, since he laughed out loud at my reaction. The sounds of our horseplay echoed through the tall chamber. I closed my eyes and reveled in the sound for the brief seconds until they subsided into the general hum of the station.

  “So are you doing this for me?” I asked as we stood apart from a few other people waiting for inbound Red Line to approach. “I mean, you pay for that fancy car of yours. You don’t need to take shitty public transit—and it’s well known that this line is particularly shitty—just for me.”

  “Would you take it with me?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “All the time? Probably not.” Something about that still made me feel uncomfortable.

  Brandon turned leaned his head from side to side, as if weighing the option. “So, abandon my date just so I can stay in my posh, clean car while she takes the train with everyone else, or stay with her like a decent human being. Gee, tough decision. Are you trying to make me strike out with you completely, Red?”

  I rolled my eyes and nudged his shoulder with mine. “Of course not. I just feel bad. You don’t have to be someone you’re not any more than I do.”

  Brandon shrugged, but didn’t quite meet my gaze. “Don’t you sometimes just want to forget who you are anyway?” he asked quietly. “I told you, sometimes about you makes me feel like regular Brandon again, instead of ‘Mr. Sterling.’ Who knows, maybe it is the fact that you drag me onto the train.” He glanced at me with a queer smile. “I kind of like it.”

  He winked, and stepped toward the edge of the platform to look for a sign of an approaching train. I wisely didn’t pursue this line of thought again. I didn’t know whether his comment meant that I was good in his life or bad—did I want to be thought of as a distraction?—but I didn’t want to spoil his good mood while it was making a comeback.