by Meg Ripley
Something in his cocksure façade seemed to slip for a moment, but it was back so quickly, I wondered if I’d imagined the slip. “I knew if I told you my family would love to see you and that you should stop by to visit, you’d nod your head and not once make it up to the house. So, here we are.”
So, this was for his family and nothing more. The truth stung because I’d been foolish enough to think that he had other motivations, but at least there was no more wondering. Declan aside, it would be nice to see his family again.
The front door swung open while I was still at the bottom of the steps and a woman four years my senior stepped out onto the porch. I recognized her right away as Declan’s sister, Hope. Her kind eyes and long, honey-blonde hair were the same. What was different, though, was the belly that jutted out in front of her. The round bulge told me she couldn’t be more than four, maybe six weeks from her due date.
It was a shock to see, given the way Hope had been frozen in my mind as the lithe, young beauty barely out of her teen years. She was still beautiful though, perhaps even more so, and she epitomized the ‘glow’ of pregnancy like no other woman I’d seen.
“Sarah!” she called as she waddled down the steps toward us, and I immediately felt guilty for standing there idly.
“It’s good to see you again, Hope,” I told her as she wrapped me in as much of a hug as her protruding belly would allow.
“Yes, well, there’s definitely more of me to see at the moment, isn’t there?” she laughed and then looked back up at the porch, motioning up to an attractive man who had just stepped out onto the porch. “Sarah, this is John McLellan, my husband and the man responsible for the beach ball I’m carrying. John, this is an old friend—and practically family—Sarah Wells.”
I smiled up politely as Hope guided me up the steps with her arm still around my waist, leaving Declan to follow behind.
There in the doorway appeared a regal-looking woman, and seeing her there made my heart leap into my throat. Elizabeth Ross’ hair was streaked with strands of white and the thin creases at the edges of her eyes deepened when she smiled at me, but otherwise, she was just as I remembered. Her arms felt the same, too: a cocoon of comfort and shelter when I’d had no other motherly figure to turn to in my childhood. Though I would always miss my own mother, Declan’s mom had filled in the gap to some degree for many years.
I fought back the tears as hard as I could. A Wells was strong. A Wells didn’t cry. And a Wells certainly didn’t start sobbing for no good reason on the Ross’ front porch. She released me after a long moment, and by then, I was able to collect myself enough to avoid any further embarrassment.
“What on Earth are you doing here, Sarah?” she asked, still holding onto my shoulders.
I froze. What was I supposed to say? That I’d run into her son and jumped his bones?
Fortunately, Declan stepped forward and drew her attention. “I told you I ran into Sarah the other day. I thought I’d take a chance and stop by the hospital to see if she wanted to come by and say hello. And today seemed like a good day for it since it was the last day of your practice run.”
“Practice run?” What exactly were they practicing?
“Yes, well, the past few days it’s just been our small Ross clan in preparation for the reunion this weekend. Mother thought it would be a worthwhile endeavor to give us a test run. You know, see if we could make it through a few days under the same roof without killing each other before exposing the town to the whole lot of us.”
And just like that, I was swept up into the mini family reunion. It was strange, although there wasn’t anything strange about it. But that’s what was odd; a person shouldn’t be able to slip into someone else’s family so easily. And yet, ten minutes with the Ross family, and it felt like I’d never left, like I’d been part of this family the whole time.
A half hour later, I knew what every Ross in the room had been up to for the past ten years. Well, almost everyone. All I knew about Declan’s long absence was that he’d taken up the family business, though they spoke little of it. But I supposed it wasn’t terribly unusual not to drudge up business matters during a family gathering. Still, that couldn’t have been all he’d been up to, could it?
“I always knew you’d go far,” Mrs. Ross beamed after John—Hope’s husband—asked about my occupation, and a round of congratulations followed.
“But you’ve only come back home recently?” John asked further.
“I’d taken a job in Baltimore right after graduating, but after my dad passed away a few months ago, I thought at first I’d just come back to pack up the house, you know? But I was offered a job at the hospital here…and well…it just kind of stuck.”
“So, do you think you’ll be making this your permanent home, dear?” Mrs. Ross probed, a devious smile on her face.
I wondered what she was up to, but there was no point in probing. Unless something had changed dramatically, Mrs. Ross was the most sharp-witted woman I’d ever met, and unless she wanted you to know what was going on inside her head, there was no way to guess. Nevertheless, I thought it best to choose my answer carefully. “I haven’t fully decided yet.” There. Where could she have possibly gone with that?
“Hmmm…I suppose we’ll have to see what we can do to sway your decision then.”
Declan didn’t say much the entire time we were there, and though he remained a quiet presence in the boisterous room, my attention was drawn back to him over and over again. It wasn’t just that he was the most attractive man in the room, or that I could feel his eyes on me no matter how far apart we were, or even that the heat in his gaze was sending tiny ripples of desire coursing through my body, part in remembrance of the night before, and in part anticipation over what promise his fiery gaze seemed to be conveying.
It was something else. Something I really didn’t want to think about.
I forced my mind in another direction before the entire family read what I feared was so plainly evident on my face. I noticed Declan seemed out of place amid his family. It was like he was sitting in a room full of strangers, there to fill some uncomfortable—and unpleasant—obligation. But if he’d been working with them for the past decade—even if from one of their many offices across the country—how could he possibly be so disconnected from all of them?
I turned the thought over in my mind as I wandered down the long hall to the washroom, more to give myself a few moments to collect my emotions than anything else. But as I emerged from the marbled oasis, I heard Declan’s voice through the closed office door a few yards down the hall.
“We both know I don’t belong here, Mother. I never did. Let’s just accept what is and get through the weekend as best we can.”
“Of course, you belong here. Whatever else has happened; whatever you’ve done…you’re my son.”
Whatever he’d ‘done’? What was she talking about? And probably more importantly, what business did I have snooping outside the door and listening in on what was obviously a private conversation?
“Declan, if you’re so opposed to being here yourself, why did you bring Sarah?”
“I…”
I listened with bated breath. I knew it was wrong; I should be leaving them alone to their conversation. But I wanted to know the answer to that question too, so I couldn’t help but crane my neck and listen intently instead.
“Because she’s Sarah, and otherwise, she’d be alone in that house tonight.” He made a frustrated sound in his throat. “There… there’s still so much she doesn’t know, Mom.”
“Declan…I know about Sarah’s father. I’ve known for a very long time. And given the relationship between you and him…well, I just want you to know that I know.”
They were silent for so long, I thought about creeping away before one of them threw the door open, but I lingered a moment longer. This wasn’t just some private conversation anymore; it had turned into a conversation about me.
Declan sighed heavily, “Damn it, Mom.
You can’t say a word to Sarah, do you understand? He didn’t want her to know.”
A chill crept down my spine. It wasn’t the first time I’d ever caught someone talking about me behind my back, but there was something different about this, something that made me want to burst into the room and demand to know what they were hiding, while at the same time I wanted to run as far and fast as I could in the other direction. Both forces pulled so hard that I stood there motionless, unable to make one side win out over the other.
“I understand perfectly well, Declan. But now that he’s gone, don’t you think it’s time?”
“That isn’t for you to decide. And if you know as much as you think you do, then you know very well I can’t do that.”
“I know it’s a delicate situation, but how would you feel if the roles were reversed?”
“If the roles were reversed I wouldn’t be any the wiser, now would I?” he shot back quickly.
“I see the way you look at her. How long before that answer’s no longer good enough?”
“I look at her like any guy who can appreciate a nice body would, and that’s all there is to it. With Sarah and I…it’s just physical. And since I’ll be gone in a matter of days, there’s zero chance of it turning into anything else.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Declan.”
The clicking of heels against the hardwood floors sounded toward the door and I tiptoed away as quickly as I could, darting back into the washroom down the hall. I needed a moment to compose myself and figure out what to do. But what exactly was I supposed to do? I couldn’t confront Declan without admitting I’d been eavesdropping. But wasn’t he even more in the wrong? What right did he—did they—have to be keeping secrets from me? Both Declan and his mother knew something about my father?
I didn’t want to make a scene right there in the middle of their family get-together, but I also couldn’t just let this go. So, I would bite my tongue and wait until Declan took me home. Except…was that such a good idea? Had I really grown a backbone since last night? No, the fact I was standing there in his family’s bathroom rather than at home—alone—was proof of that. Still, I was a grown woman, and an angry one.
I made it through the next hour and a half better than I’d expected. Hope had regaled me with tales of her other youngsters—two others, in fact. I couldn’t believe the woman, only a few years old than me and once dead set against the notion of childbearing, was about to be the happily married mother of three children.
Declan had, no doubt, noticed something wasn’t right. His gaze, though still heated, turned curious often, as if he’d been trying to read my mind. And while I might wear my emotions openly on my face, it was another thing entirely for him to guess at what could have been underlying them.
“What’s up, Sarah?” he asked once he’d pulled into my driveway and turned off the bike’s engine.
I’d been mulling over what to say again and again. I could deny that anything was wrong, though it was unlikely he’d buy it and that wouldn’t get me answers. I could lie and fabricate something, but again, that wouldn’t get me answers.
Or I could tell him the truth. I was never much for lying.
“I overheard you and your mother talking. It wasn’t intentional, but I heard, nonetheless.”
It didn’t take him long to catch up to speed. “And now you want to know what we were talking about.”
“Of course.”
“Sarah, your father never wanted you to know—”
“I’m a grown woman, Declan.” What right did he and my father—and his mother—have to determine what secrets were kept from me?
He nodded toward the house. “Let’s go in and we’ll talk,” he sighed.
God, that was almost as bad as telling someone ‘you should really sit down for this’. Still, I unlocked the door and entered the house—at least as far as the front foyer. “Alright. We’re inside, now; are you happy? Now tell me what the fuck’s going on, Declan.”
“What your father didn’t want you to know…because he worried it might change how you thought of him is…well, he isn’t your real father.”
That couldn’t be. As far back as I could remember, I recalled him being there. I’d think Declan was joking, but the look on his face told me otherwise. He was serious.
“But…but that can’t be. I remember him—”
“He married your mother when you were still a baby and adopted you shortly after. So, in all the ways that matter, Sarah, he was your father. Just not by blood.”
“Yes, of course,” I said distractedly. “He told you…and not me?” Wasn’t that what was really bothering me?
“It wasn’t like your father confided in me. He helped bail me out of trouble a good number of times when I was younger. One day we were talking, and he let it slip by accident. I know he wished he hadn’t, and he asked me to never repeat it.”
“Oh.”
I sat down hard on the sofa, though I couldn’t remember making my way into the living room. It stung a little that Declan had known the truth for years and I hadn’t, but I thought, if I was willing to see reason, that there was never any harm intended.
My father had feared what I’d think of him, maybe even worried about the state of our relationship if he’d told me the truth. But it wouldn’t have changed anything back when he was alive, and it didn’t change anything then. He was the only father I’d ever known.
Declan had taken a seat next to me, trying to read my expression. Was I ready to let him off the hook? He’d kept the confidence of a man who had helped him; I suppose I couldn’t fault him for that.
“Alright…well, I guess I understand.” I nodded as if to solidify my resolve to move on. The past was the past. I’m sure I would want to know more later, but to the best of my knowledge, Declan didn’t have any more answers for me.
We sat there in silence for some time, though what I was trying to figure out then was what to do with the man sitting on my couch. Should I tell him to leave? Did I want that? As much as what had happened last night shouldn’t have, in truth, I wanted him again, perhaps even more so because I knew without a doubt it would drown every other thought from my mind.
And he was sitting close, so close. Though no part of him made contact with my body, I could feel his body heat radiating across the small gap between us. And when I chanced a glance up at him, the fiery glint hiding in the back of his eyes was unmistakable; the glint that told me it would take only seconds to turn that spark into a wildfire.
I wasn’t some weak girl who couldn’t say no. The fact was, I didn’t want to say no.
I knew what I wanted. And I wanted him.
I wanted to feel his hands and his mouth burning a trail across my body, and to feel the chiseled planes of his body beneath my fingers. And suddenly, it was no longer want and desire; it became a need. I needed to feel him and taste him, and I needed him to fill me completely like he had the night before. I’d never felt so exquisitely full in my entire life, and I needed it again, right then.
He looked up at me and his eyes met mine. It seemed something in my eyes told him what I needed because the groan that escaped his lips was unmistakable. He was on his feet in a flash, pulling me against him, instantly molding my curves to his deliciously hard frame.
I don’t know which of us moved in first, whether he’d leaned down or I’d lifted myself up, but all I knew was his lips were suddenly against mine and we opened for one another. I let my hands wander, one venturing down the sinewy muscle of his shoulder and bicep, tracing the sword and shield and wondering about its meaning. The other grazed down beneath the neck of his shirt to the hard planes of his chest. Every inch of him I touched was solid muscle, and so much of him was covered in different stories. I desperately wanted to know what they said.
His hands started to move, too. I felt him against my neck, my shoulders, the upper swells of my breasts. My skin tingled everywhere he touched, or maybe it was burning I felt, the most exquisite tr
ail of fire I could imagine. Regardless of what it was, it spurred me onward, igniting an inferno deep inside that threatened to blaze outward and consume me whole. I didn’t want it to be like this—so intense—but it was. I’d never known desire so overwhelming I could feel it in every fiber of my body.
Every bit of me wanted Declan.
All of a sudden, he lifted me off the ground like he had the other night, and with seemingly no exertion at all, he carried me down the hall to the bedroom. As he lowered me back down to the floor, the backs of my legs pressed up against the mattress. Instead of pulling me back in his arms though, he reached for the hem of my shirt, yanking it off in a flash.
“I want to see you, Sarah. I want to see, and touch, and taste every gorgeous inch of you.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t. The intensity in his gaze and in his tone bid me to stay right where I was as he unhooked my bra with a flick of his wrist. I just watched him as he unzipped the fly of my jeans and tugged them off. He returned seconds later, his fingers hooking into the thong hugging my hips. My stomach clenched in anticipation as he tugged the scrap of fabric down slowly, but he stopped below my hips.
I waited with bated breath to feel him continue further or to feel his hands on me, but instead of touching me, he leaned down, encircling first one nipple and then the other with his tongue. Tiny jolts of pleasure shocked through me, but he didn’t stop there.
He kissed down the valley between my breasts, past my ribs and toward my stomach. I felt his tongue along the satin waistband of my thong, and then he began slipping it further down, a sliver at a time, kissing every inch of skin he exposed.
I wanted him to speed up, to feel his lips move lower, to feel his warm mouth on my clit. But I wanted him to slow down, too, to draw it out as much as he could, to make the onslaught of sensation I was feeling right then last forever.
Second after excruciating second passed, and finally, he was nearly there. He lowered the thong another inch, and then one more and I could feel the delicious tickle of his breath like the lightest of touches. I waited…and waited…resisting the urge to pull him closer, but damn it, he remained right there.
