Defensive Heart: The Donnolleys, Book 2

by Dorothy F. Shaw

  She smiled and breezed past him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  He closed the door. “Need a snack first?”

  “Nah. I’m good.” She plopped her backpack on one of the dining chairs.

  Jimmy moved to the top of the stairs. “You know where the fridge is if you want a drink. Help yourself and meet me downstairs when you’re ready.”

  “Cool. Thanks.”

  Jimmy made his way to his studio and wheeled the MIG welder over to the large worktable in the center of the room and then grabbed two masks.

  “What’re we working on today?”

  “Today…” Jimmy handed her a mask. “We’re going to build a coffee table. Or at least start it.”

  “Fuck yeah! Welding!” Casey bounced, a big smile adorning her face.

  Jimmy chuckled. “Yeah, it’s cool, but watch your mouth.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. We need tunes.”

  “Getting to that, Little Miss Impatient.” Jimmy moved to his workbench against the wall, grabbed the iPod and queued up some Type O, just for her. “Anesthesia” started playing, and he glanced over at her.

  She was looking through one of his portfolios she’d picked up off the other table bordering the opposite wall and gave no indication she knew the band or the song playing. So much for that. He’d for sure be educating her now. “Come on then. Let’s get started.”

  Her head snapped up and she put the portfolio down. “What do you want me to do?”

  “First we gather the parts we need.” He moved over to the inventory of various parts and steel pieces he kept on shelves beside his workbench. Grabbing the biggest piece, which was resting against the wall on the floor, he picked it up and moved it onto the center table.

  “What the heck is that?”

  “What does it look like?” He moved back to the shelves. “Come here, need you to carry some of these.”

  “I don’t know. It looks like some sort of gear or something.” She held out her arms and Jimmy handed her four metal pipes.

  “Take those over to the table, please.” He grabbed a few more items he needed and moved next to her. “It’s a big gear. Probably used in some sort of factory machine.”

  “It’s huge.” She smiled. “By the way, this is a cool song.”

  “Yeah? Glad you like it.”

  “Who is it?” She took off her flannel and tossed it onto the workbench behind her.

  Resting his hands on his hips, he tilted his head to the side. “You mean you don’t know?”

  “Should I know?”

  He raised his brows and pursed his lips. “Kiddo, if you’re gonna wear a band’s shirt, you should at least know who the hell they are. Shame on you, Casey Olivia Martin.”

  “Oh.” She looked at her shirt and then back at him. A slight blush colored her cheeks.

  Jimmy had to smile. For as tough as she liked to pretend to be, the blush gave her innocence away every damn time. Just like her mom. “No worries. By the time we finish today, you’ll be well aquainted with TON.”

  “TON?”

  “And so the first lesson shall begin. TON. Stands for Type O Negative.” Jimmy picked up one of the four steel pipes as “Burnt Flowers Fallen” came up next on rotation. “Come on, let’s go bend some pipes.”

  “Okay.” She smiled and followed him over to the machine. “What does this do?”

  “It bends the pipes to the shape we want them. Watch.” Placing the pipe in the track, he clamped it in place, set all the necessary components and started cranking the lever.

  “Wow! That’s fucking cool! Oh!” Casey covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “Killing me, kiddo. Wanna try?”

  She linked her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. “Uh huh.”

  “Okay, let me adjust the pipe first. Then when I say, you crank the handle. Cool?”

  “Mmkay.” She rested her hand on the lever and waited, eyes big as saucers.

  “All right. Give it a crank.” Jimmy stood back and supervised. Casey moved the handle back and forth, bending the pipe as needed. “One more crank, and then we do the others.”

  “This is so freaking cool!”

  “Agreed.” He mussed the top of her hair and she ducked her head, scoffing at him. “Eh, it’s just hair. Look at mine?” He ran his fingers through it, messing it further.

  “I’ve seen yours, and that’s so not the look I’m going for.” She gave the lever one last pull and stepped back. “Next one?”

  “Yup, go grab the others. And, I’m crushed you don’t like my hair. Seriously.”

  She rushed to the center table and grabbed the remaining three pipes and returned to him. “Nah, I like your hair. It’s just not me.”

  “Riiiiight, because it’s liiiike one color and stuff.” He peppered his words with a mock girly tone as he twirled a lock of his hair.

  Casey rolled her eyes, giggling at him, which was also another betrayal of the sweet girl hiding behind the exterior she’d put in place. She was a good kid, despite what face she displayed to the world around her. Underneath the harsh yet colorful, bright hair were dark brown locks, like her father’s. Her heavily black-lined eyes were sky blue, like her mother’s. She’d done a damn good job of fooling all those around her, with the exception of the people who knew her best.

  Jimmy set up the next pipe in the machine and let Casey do the bending, adjusting when needed. She was like a kid who’d gotten her most coveted toy for her birthday—all giddy with excitement. Seeing her bubbling enthusiasm gave Jimmy a deep sense of purpose in Casey’s life.

  He understood this kid, probably better than most—definitely better than her mother did. Being a rebel himself, he’d tried to assure Sonja, several times since meeting Casey, that her daughter would be fine.

  One night they’d discussed her at length while lying in bed. Sonja had bristled more than a few times when Jimmy gave his opinion on how he thought Sonja should try and view the situation. She wasn’t too willing to listen to him. Even tossed out to him that he wasn’t a parent, therefore he didn’t or couldn’t understand. She was both right and wrong. He had a few nieces and nephews, and he had his own experience to draw from too.

  He’d been fortunate because his parents hadn’t tried to change him. They let him be whatever he wanted to be and always encouraged him to do what made him happy. Because of their unconditional love and support, he’d pursued all types of art with a vengeance in school. After college, they encouraged him to move to Manhattan and pursue his dream.

  Jimmy had blown off his degree in his final year without even considering how much money his parents paid for his education, and yet they’d supported him anyway. If he were in their shoes, he might not have been so accepting or supportive, but for certain he’d try. He was damn sure Sonja would never tolerate something like that. Finishing up the last pipe, he gathered them together and ushered her to the worktable.

  “Do we get to weld now?”

  “Yup. We’ll do the fitting pieces first. Grab your mask. You watch for the first couple, then I’ll let you try, cool?”

  “So cool!”

  Casey would definitely be expected to go to college. And she’d be expected to graduate with her bachelor’s degree, probably with honors, then promptly earn a master’s degree immediately after. In his opinion, it was way too much pressure for a kid. But what did he know, right? Jimmy shook his head and put his welder’s mask on the top of his head. Flipping the on switch for the welder, he glanced at Casey. “Ready?”

  She nodded, pulling her mask over her face. He lowered his mask and welded the first fitting for the pipes to the large gear. Casey squealed and he could practically feel her limbs vibrating with excitement.

  Yeah, God willing, this kid was going to be fine.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

 
Sonja pulled the garlic bread from the oven and placed it in the waiting basket. Casey was out for the night, staying at a friend’s house, and James would be there any minute. After their little phone-sex session earlier in the day, she’d been antsy and walking on edge. The orgasm had only served to heighten the almost constant need for him.

  The doorbell rang, and she pulled off her apron and headed down the hall. Taking a look through the peephole, she smiled and opened the door. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” James crossed the threshold, took her in his arms and kissed her. Pulling away, he brushed his nose over hers.

  She let out a sigh and ran her hands up his arms. “Are you hungry?”

  Bending his head, he ran his lips over her neck. “Mmhmm.”

  Sonja let out a giggle. “I meant for food!”

  He straightened and gazed at her. “Oh, food? Yeah, I could eat.”

  “Good. Because I cooked.” Taking his hand, she led him toward the formal dining room.

  “It does smell damn good in here. Not as good as you, but a close second for sure.”

  The lights were dimmed in the dining room. Guiding him to the large cherrywood table set for two, with candles burning in the center, she motioned to the chair she wanted him to sit in. “Have a seat. Dinner will be right out.”

  “Wow! Nice setup. Can I help?”

  “You can open the Chianti. Otherwise sit right there, James-the-artist, and I shall do all the work.”

  He grabbed the bottle and corkscrew sitting beside it. “Got it.”

  She grinned and stepped backward through the butler’s pantry door. The rest of the meal was on the table, so she grabbed the serving bowl full of spaghetti and made her way back out to him. “La cena è servita.” Dinner is served. She smiled and placed the pasta on the table. “Un momento, ho bisogno di ottenere il pane.” One moment, I need to get the bread.

  James snagged her wrist before she stepped away. “I don’t know what you just said, and I don’t even think I care, but holy fuck, that was hot and if you keep talking like that I’m going to bang you on this table right now.”

  Sonja bent forward, stroking her fingers through his hair. “Promesse, promesse. Si può avere me come vuoi me, James.” Promises, promises. You can have me how you want me, James.

  Pulling her on to his lap, he smoothed a hand over the curve of her hip and onto her backside. “That’s beyond sexy, mo chroí. No joke.”

  “I said, dinner is served.” She traced his lips with her fingertip. “Tell me what mo chroí means, and I’ll tell you what else I said.”

  James smiled and then bit the tip of her finger before sucking it between his lips. Fire spread through her veins. Maybe letting him fuck her on the table wasn’t such a bad idea. She could always reheat the pasta. Tugging her finger from between his delectable lips, she pressed her mouth to his and snaked her tongue inside. When she pulled away they were both breathless, and James had one hand up her skirt tracing little circles on her inner thigh.

  He cleared his throat. “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Sonja stood and moved to the door. Before passing through it, she looked over her shoulder. “Fine. Don’t expect me to tell you either.” She walked through the door, leaving him alone at the table. Grabbing the breadbasket, she returned to the dining room, set it on the table and took the seat to his left.

  “Oookay.” He linked his hands together over his stomach.

  Ignoring him, she reached for the bowl of pasta and scooped a large helping onto his plate. Then added extra sauce and two meatballs. He poured them each a glass of wine. She offered him a piece of garlic bread from the basket and he took a slice. Then, she served herself. All was done in silence.

  Tension filled the room, almost as though they were having a silent argument. Maybe they were. Hmm. She intended only to tease him a little by refusing to translate the statements she’d made in Italian unless he told her what mo chroí meant. In truth, the mystery surrounding the endearment he used consistently with her made it feel all the more special. Sort of… Sonja went to run her hand up the back of her hair, forgetting it wasn’t pulled up. Dammit.

  “What shall we drink to?”

  Sonja’s head snapped up to find James had raised his glass. She picked hers up and smiled. “How about a toast to mystery?”

  “Mystery, huh?” He shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Yes, the mystery behind our words.”

  “I see.” He tapped her glass before raising his to his lips.

  Sonja blew out a breath and watched his mouth close around the edge, then his throat bob as he swallowed. Taking a sip of her wine, she swallowed past the lump in her throat. James Donnelly had dug himself so deep beneath her skin she had no hope of extricating him. Why oh why did this man want her, and why in God’s name did she want him back?

  The answer to those two questions had continued to elude her; no matter how much time she spent with him or how many times they had sex. She was beginning to think she’d never figure it out.

  “Stop it.” He took a mouthful of pasta.

  “Stop what?”

  He chewed and then wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Just…stop it.” He covered her hand with his.

  “How’s your pasta?”

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It’s the best spaghetti I’ve ever had.”

  “Your mother’s a chef, so I doubt that. But thank you.”

  “Yes, this is true, she is a chef, but this is still awesome. And you should accept a compliment.” He took another bite.

  “I said thank you.” She followed his lead and ate some from her plate. Even she had to admit it was good. The sauce had come out almost perfect.

  “Where’s Casey?”

  “She’s spending the night with a friend. How’d she do today at the studio?”

  He wiped his mouth and took another sip of wine. “She did awesome. I let her bend some pipes and weld.”

  “Weld? As in welding, with a torch?”

  “No, not really a torch, but yes, welding. Is that a problem?”

  “Well, I guess not. I just…” Sonja picked up her wine. “I assume you’re using all the necessary safety equipment.”

  “Of course. Do you really think I’d let her get hurt?”

  “No. But accidents happen.”

  He tossed his napkin on the table. “Why do I feel like we’re about to have a fight?”

  “Because maybe we are.” She took a long gulp of wine.

  “Ah, I see. Fucking foreplay, huh?”

  Sonja almost choked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Where’s the maid?”

  “What?”

  James stood. “I said, where’s the maid?”

  “I gave her the night off…” Sonja looked up at him. “James, what are you doing?”

  “Giving you what you need.”

  “What I need?”

  “Yup.” Bending forward, he turned her chair to face him and knelt before her.

  “Oh, dear.”

  James rested his hands on the top of her legs. “Are you wearing panties?”

  Her breath hitched in her throat, and she pushed her hair off her shoulder. “No.”

  “Good.” He tugged her toward the edge of the seat, then scooted her skirt up. “Part your pretty thighs for me.”

  Sonja slid her skirt a little higher and spread her thighs wide. She knew she was already wet, and had been since earlier in the day—even more so since he’d arrived.

  “Look at your wet pussy. My God, Sonja. Sweet heaven is right there waiting for me.” He gripped her thighs, pressing his thumbs into the tender inner flesh of her legs. “Tell me what you want.”

  Bolts of lightning rocketed through Sonja, bounced off her insides and made her skin tingle. “Did you want d
essert?”

  “Only if it’s the sweet honey dripping from your cunt.”

  “Take a taste.”

  His eyes widened, satisfaction flashing in them before he bent his head and licked through her slit. Sonja’s entire body jerked at the feel of his tongue. Her head fell back against the chair and she raised one leg, resting it on his shoulder. When he latched on to her clit, she gripped his hair with both hands and pulled him closer.

  James growled and sucked harder. Sonja’s body tightened and lust pooled in her stomach. He brought her to the edge of climax—and the point of madness—only to change his pace, tormenting her with slow, lazy licks through her slit. She wiggled and rolled her hips, gripping the strands of his hair, wanting more…

  Taking hold of her behind her knees, James shifted her farther down the seat and raised her legs in the air, baring her completely to him. “Oh my God, James!”

  With an iron grip on the back of her thighs, he kept them pinned against her chest and his gaze locked on hers. Snaking his tongue out, he flicked it over her clit. She was mesmerized by him. By the look in his eyes. By the feel of his teasing tongue. By everything he had done, and was doing to her.

  “I was going to give you control tonight.” He licked through her slit. “But I think, no, not tonight. Tonight, it’s my turn.”

  Her response, poised on the tip of her tongue, was stopped short when he nipped her clit and then smoothed his tongue over it. Sonja arched on the seat, barely able to move due to his unyielding hold, but shifted enough to press against his mouth.

  “Ask me to let you come.”

  She drew in a deep breath when he returned to licking through her slit, then penetrated her core with his tongue. “James…”

  “Whose cunt is this, Sonja? Hmm?” He licked again. “Tell me.”

  His words pierced the lust-induced haze in her mind. Even caught in the maelstrom of an anticipated climax, one she might very well not recover from, she knew the answer. “Yours. It’s—oh fuck…it’s yours.”