After the Rain (The Callahans)

by Jennifer Hayden

  “She staying here?”

  “For now,” Trey said, tossing his coat on the hanger behind the door. “She’s messed up. He hit her good.”

  “He going to come after her?”

  Trey was thoughtful. “Maybe—probably. She has his kids and she cheated on him.”

  Dusty swore. “So she called you to bail her out?”

  Trey shrugged, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator. “Who else is she going to turn to? She’s pissed everyone else in her life off.”

  “Do I need to remind you that she screwed you over too?”

  “No, you don’t.” Trey leaned against the counter. “How mad is she?”

  “Faye or Kylie?”

  “Faye is always mad. I meant Kylie.”

  “You should have called her.”

  “And told her what? That my ex-wife called and I needed to go pick her and her kids up so I could bring them back to stay in my house?”

  Dusty frowned but didn’t comment.

  Trey took a good draw on the beer bottle. “I couldn’t just turn my back on her. The cop in me wouldn’t allow it.”

  “Don’t screw this up, bro. Kylie is a nice girl. She’s been hurt before.”

  “I know.” Trey grimaced. “Nothing’s changed between us. I have no feeling other than pity for Shayna. It’s kind of sad, really. She’s so clueless and her kids will suffer for that.”

  “It’s not your problem.” Dusty stated the obvious.

  “As of tomorrow, I won’t have to deal with it. I told her she needs to go talk to her parents at the res.”

  “They probably won’t open their arms. Lena and Jacob are proud people. She really hurt them by what she did to you.”

  “I can talk to them. It’s their responsibility to help her. Not mine.”

  “So go tell Kylie that.” Dusty stood. “I’ll bet she’s still up.”

  Trey thought that over as his brother left the room. It was two in the morning. Most likely, she’d given up on him hours earlier and turned in. Either that or she was too pissed to sleep. He didn’t know which idea made him feel worse. He set his empty beer bottle on the counter and took the stairs slowly. When he reached the top, he stared at her door, momentarily. Would she be glad to see him? Probably not. All the same, he did owe her an explanation. He tapped lightly, almost hoping she was sleeping. It would probably be in his best interest to think over exactly how to handle things and approach her in the morning. But she was awake. The door opened a crack and her blue eyes peered at him, curiously.

  “Did I wake you up?” he whispered.

  Shaking her head, she opened the door wider. He could see she was wearing some pajamas—a short and tank set. It was appealing, he decided. He liked the simple things she wore. He liked it much better than the designer crap Shayna piled on.

  “I’m sorry I stood you up tonight.”

  Her expression softened. “It’s okay. I know you’re busy.”

  “Yeah, well…” He frowned. “Can I come in or do you want to go downstairs? I don’t want to wake Faye.”

  She hesitated, then opened the door the rest of the way and allowed him to come inside. He shut the door behind him and folded his arms over his chest as he looked at her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her expression blank. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of sitting close to her just yet. She was radiating distance. Instead, he leaned against the wall a few feet away.

  “My ex-wife called earlier, in trouble. I had to help her out. Her husband found out she cheated on him and beat her up pretty good. Then he threatened to kill her.” He paused, waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he continued. “I know I got upset with you for talking to that creep you used to date, so maybe you’re mad at me now, but I couldn’t turn my back on her. She’s got small kids with her.”

  “Is she in your house?”

  “She is,” he confirmed.

  She didn’t say anything after that.

  “She’s going to see her parents tomorrow. I told her she has to go.”

  “Why did she call you? Is she trying—”

  “We’re not getting back together, Kylie. It’s been nearly six years. I promise you that.”

  “Then why did she turn to you? She hurt you before.”

  He shrugged. “You have to know Shayna. Honestly, we’ve known each other our whole lives. Before we dated, we ran around with the same crowd. She has pissed a lot of people off over the years and I’m the only one she knew wouldn’t turn her away.”

  “Because you still care about her?”

  He snorted at that. “No, baby. Because I’m a cop.”

  “So why didn’t you call me?”

  Good question. He frowned. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking, I guess. And it was awkward. I didn’t know what to say.”

  She finally met his gaze. “What you just said would have been enough.” She stood and walked over to the window, staring out into the darkness. “Is she back here for good?”

  “I don’t know.” He walked over and stood behind her. “Does it matter?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned back against him. He lifted his arms and pulled her against his chest. “It’s you I’m with, Montana. I’m not interested in anyone but you.”

  She let her hands cover his and they stood like that for a while.

  “So can I stay in here with you tonight? I’m sort of homeless.” He waited for her to stiffen in his arms, but she didn’t. Instead she turned around, her nose bumping against his chest.

  “Just to sleep?”

  “Yeah, baby. Just to sleep.”

  “Faye might get mad.”

  He grinned at that. “Faye’s always mad.”

  Now it was her turn to smile. “Okay, I guess you have a point.” She stepped away from him and reached for the lamp next to the bed. “You don’t have pajamas.”

  “I have a T-shirt on and boxers. Is that enough for you?”

  He waited while she thought that over.

  “What kind of boxers?”

  “What do you mean, what kind?”

  “Do they have designs on them?”

  His gaze narrowed. “Like trains or something? Heck, I don’t know. I don’t remember what I put on this morning.”

  “Only a man says something like that.”

  “That’s probably true. You want to tell me what your underwear looks like? Or you could just show me.” He gave her a mischievous grin.

  “You wish.” She climbed into bed and waited while he undid his belt buckle and went to work removing his jeans. It turned out he had beer bottles on his boxers.

  “Faye gave them to me for Christmas last year,” he said, sheepishly.

  She laughed at that. “She sent me a pair just like them. I sleep in them sometimes.”

  That figured. He walked over and climbed into bed next to her, though he was careful to give her some space. Once the light was out, they lay there, both quiet. Finally, she broke the silence.

  “Would it bother you if I got closer to you?”

  Probably. “No,” he said anyway.

  She scooted against him, her back against his chest. It seemed natural to wrap his arms around her. It almost felt as though they had laid like this a hundred times, rather than never before.

  “Trey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you really mean it when you said you’d wait as long as it takes?”

  He supposed the events of the evening had probably made her doubt him. All the same, he was a little disappointed. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

  “Maybe I’ll be ready soon. I mean I think I will.”

  He lifted a hand and brushed some hair back from her face. “I’ll be here waiting.”

  14

  The early morning sun filtered through the slits in the curtains and forced Kylie awake. Disoriented at first, she stiffened. She was in her bed, in the Callahan house, but she wasn’t alone. Then she recalled the events of the night before. Tr
ey was with her in her bed. She could hear him breathing softly behind her, though she was almost afraid to turn around. When they had gone to sleep the night before, his arms had been around her. She had fallen asleep smelling his scent, feeling his warmth. And she’d liked it. It hadn’t scared her, it had made her feel all sorts of strange feelings. Feelings she wasn’t sure what to do about. Feelings that Paul had never come close to bringing out in her.

  She turned her head and looked behind her. He was lying on his stomach, his arms stretched out above him as he slept. There was something about the way he looked when he was deep in slumber. The lines that normally worried his forehead were evaporated. His dark black lashes seemed longer against his tanned skin. Lord, he was beautiful. He seemed so far from her league.

  She carefully turned over and watched him a little longer. How could a man like him want to be with a woman like her? It just didn’t seem possible.

  But it was. He had said so the night before. He would wait as long as it took.

  She thought that over. She’d never really wanted to touch a man before but she wanted to touch him—to run her fingers over that soft, black hair. She wanted to nuzzle her nose against his neck and feel those arms wrap around her again. But could she go through with it? She’d tried with Paul only a few times and each time she’d had an anxiety attack. He had given up and turned to someone else. What if Trey did the same thing?

  Trey wasn’t Paul, or any of the other men she’d dated over the years. He was Trey and he was different, she told herself.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Montana.”

  His voice startled her. Their eyes met. His were sleepy and relaxed. She found herself smiling. “Like what?”

  He let out a yawn and turned onto his back, his eyes still locked with hers. “Like….that.”

  Was she that obvious?

  He turned onto his side, his fingers reaching up to touch her face softly. “So did you sleep well?”

  “I did,” she said, leaning into his touch. She couldn’t help herself.

  “Me, too.” He leaned forward and rubbed his nose lightly against hers. “I could get used to this. You smell good.” His mouth brushed her lips lightly, before sliding down her chin to her neck.

  “I need a shower,” she argued, but she didn’t stop him. His lips felt delicious against the sensitive skin of her bare shoulder. “Trey?”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  She shut her eyes at the feel of his tongue against her skin. Dear God, what was happening to her? She was melting. Instead of speaking, she reached over and wrapped her arms around his neck, coaxing his head up and back to her mouth. Immediately, the kiss grew urgent, tongues moving between teeth and meeting in a frenzy. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tighter against him. She rolled over on top of him, with his help, and he pulled her head down for more. Their kisses grew more intense. Almost panting, she pulled back a little. His hand in her hair, he stilled and looked up at her, his expression worried.

  “Too much?”

  “No, I just….” Her voice broke off. “I like it.”

  He smiled at that. “I like it too. But if you don’t want to go further, it’s okay.”

  “What’s further?” she asked and then wanted to kick herself. What a stupid question.

  “Anything you want. Just kissing or touching—or both. Whatever.” He let his hand fall from her hair and waited, patiently. “The ball’s in your court, Montana.”

  She could feel how aroused he was. The bulge in his boxers was evident from where she lay across him. “I can’t be on the bottom.” The words came out quickly. “And I can’t be face down.”

  His eyes studied hers, carefully. “You make the rules. If I do something you don’t like, all you have to do is say something. I’ll stop.”

  Paul had said the same thing. And he hadn’t stopped. Not until she’d stopped breathing. “Promise?” she finally said, a little bit of her dignity crumbling. She hated being so insecure.

  He was quiet for several seconds and she nearly changed her mind. “Have you been with anyone since—”

  “No,” she said, hesitantly, glad to have the words out in the open. She knew he needed to know, yet she hadn’t wanted to tell him. It only made her seem like more of a freak. She started to sit up, but he reached up and stopped her.

  “It’s okay. Don’t run from me.” He slowly sat up, pulling her into his lap. They watched each other in silence, each fighting their own battles with need. “I realize that you’ve had issues with other guys. I’m not one of them, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, quietly.

  “If you want to stop at any time, I will stop. I do promise.” He brushed the hair back from her face. “Okay?”

  She nodded, her anxiety melting somewhat.

  Their lips touched lightly, his fingers tangling in her hair again. He tilted her head to the other side, his mouth now at a better angle. She welcomed his tongue, her own melting with his eagerly. Her hands braced against his shoulders. She felt his hands drop to her back. They rubbed lightly against her skin, but didn’t lift her shirt. His mouth strayed from hers and moved down her neck again. She couldn’t think when he did that. She rocked against him intimately, shocked at the intensity of the feelings rocketing through her. She had a hold of his T-shirt hem and before she gave it cautious thought, pulled at it, struggling to yank it over his head. He helped her a moment later, tossing the shirt to the floor. His mouth was on hers again, immediately. She didn’t bother holding back. She kissed him just as deeply as he kissed her. She let her hands roam down over his chest, and the very light coat of black hair that dusted it. The scar at the top of his shoulder caught her eye and she stiffened. She’d almost forgotten about those. His hands were right there, at the hem of her tank top. She reached down and stopped his fingers from lifting the shirt. Pulling back, she inhaled, nervously.

  His eyes met hers. “You want me to stop?”

  “I have scars.”

  “So do I.”

  “Mine are uglier.” She reached up and rubbed the goose bumps that had suddenly broken out on her arms. “And bigger.”

  “Nothing about you is ugly, Montana.”

  “I’ve never let anyone see them before.”

  “Maybe it’s time you did.” He leaned back against the headboard, obviously leaving the ball in her court again.

  “Can’t we do this without taking off my shirt?”

  He was quiet a moment, then he shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

  She didn’t know what she wanted. Part of her wanted to take her shirt off and let him see the nasty, puckered marks on her skin. At least then it would be over with. She wouldn’t be hiding anymore.

  “You don’t have to take it all the way off. Does it bother you if I do this?” He reached forward and moved his hand under her shirt. It lightly rubbed over her flat abdomen. He didn’t move any higher, just let his hand rest there. Her eyes involuntarily shut. Oh how she loved his hands on her.

  “I can’t think when you do that.”

  “Then don’t,” he said, his mouth finding hers again. “Just feel.”

  She was doing plenty of feeling. With every brush of his hand against her stomach, her thighs clenched together—in anticipation of what, she didn’t know exactly. When his mouth left hers, she went in search of it. Before she could catch her breath, she felt his lips against her ear, his tongue sliding over it. When he lifted her shirt this time, she didn’t protest. He tugged the tank top over her head and tossed it on the floor beside the bed. She waited for him to blanch at the sight of her scars but he didn’t. He ran his fingers over her skin, and then replaced his fingers with his mouth. “Trey...” she heard her voice say in a groan.

  “You’re beautiful, Montana.” His mouth moved down her neck again. “I thought that…the first time…I saw you.”

  She let him move his hand lower. Her breath stopped when he reached the area just above the juncture of her thighs. Her hand reached down a
nd stilled his.

  True to his word, he stopped. His eyes met hers. “I want to touch you, baby. I promise it won’t hurt.”

  “I don’t want to have a panic attack.” Speaking the truth about her fears made her feel marginally better.

  “You won’t. I won’t let you. We’ll stop if it comes to that.” He kissed her deeply. “I promise.”

  She reluctantly lifted her hand, her eyes never leaving his. His hand moved lower. Her heart pounded in rapid successions. When his fingers brushed against the most intimate part of her, she tensed, but didn’t stop him.

  He didn’t worry about the clothing that separated his fingers from her skin; he just lightly feathered touches against her, his mouth moving back to hers.

  “Just relax and remember it’s me.” He said the words against her mouth, his breathing just as erratic as hers. He kissed her several times before his fingers grew bolder. She waited for the panic to come. It didn’t. All she felt was an undeniable craving for more. There was a pressure building that she wasn’t sure what to do with. She’d thought herself incapable of feeling anything during foreplay or sex.

  “Just relax.”

  “I can’t.” She moaned the words against his neck. She was going to lose it. She couldn’t stop herself. Involuntarily, she was rubbing against him now, the need for release nearly unbearable. “Trey…I need…” She breathed deeply. “Stop. Just stop.”

  His fingers stilled, abruptly.

  She reached down between them, her fingers finding the hem of his boxers.

  “Kylie—”

  “I want to.” She met his gaze. “I don’t want to go alone.”

  He swore, roughly. “I don’t have any protection.”

  “I’ve been taking the pill since college. I just never needed it until now.”

  Relief lit his face. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not afraid of you, Trey. I’m sure of that.” She let her fingers press against the front of his boxers. He tensed and let out a breath. She grew bolder and let her fingers rub up and down his length. “Can I stay on top?”

  “You can be anywhere you want,” he said on a hissed breath.