by July Dawson
I would have thrown my hands up in the air if I weren't responsible for the steering wheel; as it was, my fingers jerked up in a movement of exasperated bemusement.
"Your driver? You don't need a driver. You like having me around for some twisted reason."
"It's not twisted. I enjoy your company."
I glanced at him sideways, feeling irritated and pleased all at once.
"You like mine too,” he said.
“You’re an arrogant ass and I don't understand you," I said, shaking my head.
He shrugged.
"And you're not going to explain it to me? Despite promising you would if I gave you the time to talk tonight?"
He gestured at a street sign ahead. "Take a right. We can go talk at the park."
The park was empty, and there was a "No Trespassing After Dusk" sign hanging up alongside the swings. "This feel safe. This feels like a good idea."
"There's a walking trail," he said, pointing to the parking spaces by the tennis courts.
A few minutes later, we were out of the car. The evening air felt cool, although the earth beneath our feet still held the heat of the summer day, and it was scented with the greenery around us. Rob led me under the spreading branches of a long, gravel trail, the moonlight shifting through the ceiling of leaves above them like a kaleidoscope.
He hesitated, then reached out and took my hand. I let him, cursing myself at the same time as my fingers wrapped around his. Rob's hand felt big and warm and comforting. I wished things were different, and I felt the ache I'd carried all day after his words open wider.
"I have a tough time talking about my feelings," he said. "About my family."
There was a pause between us. We walked under the trees, hearing the peepers sing in the background. Rob swung our hands slightly between us.
"That's it?" I asked, wondering where the punchline was. "I have a tough time talking about my feelings, too, Rob. That's not that special."
"I just. I mean, I don't want you to think I'm a horrible human being."
"I don't think that," I said. "You didn't bring me into the woods to murder me, did you? I always get a little nervous when men want to take a nature walk after dark. But as long as you didn't bring me into the woods to murder me, I don't think you're a horrible human being."
He gazed back at me, amusement sparking in his vivid eyes and chasing away some of his sadness. "You are such an odd girl."
"That's why you like me," I said, with a lightness I didn't feel.
"I do."
"You never answered my question."
"The only thing I want to do is kiss you," he said, and as irritated as I was with him, part of me wanted to kiss him while I could.
He leaned forward, his lips touching mine gently. I began to twine my arms around his neck before I flashed back to the stairs. "Don't fall in love with me," he'd said with that same easy, teasing tone he used now.
My hands flattened on his shoulders, and I pushed him away, turning my face to one side to break contact.
"Okay," he said, standing still as I staggered a few steps past him down the trail, my feet unsteady beneath me. The rough gravel trail seemed to tilt for a second, as if pulling myself away from Rob's arms made me sick.
"I guess I deserved that," he went on.
I rubbed my forehead, trying to clear my head. "I guess you did."
"I don't want you to think I'm a horrible person," he said, "But historically? The men in my family are horrible people."
"So?"
He made a small sound that might have been laughter, but didn't sound quite right. "So I don't know how to be a normal guy in a normal relationship? My father left a woman to die. My mother..."
"What happened to your mother?" I asked, when the pause went on uncomfortably long.
"It's hard to know," he said. "Anyway, she's dead now. And my grandfather? Not a prize. I don't want you to fall in love with me, Naomi. Because I don't want to let you down."
There was a long pause again. He stood there, the look on his face expectant, and I wanted to slap him.
"That's it? You're nervous like anyone is at the start of a relationship and you think that's so special because you're Rob Delaney?"
"I don't know that I'd say relationship..."
"Rob, shut up." I couldn't take it anymore. I certainly couldn't let him keep talking when he was going to dig himself a new, deeper hole.
So I kissed him. I pressed my lips hard against his until I felt him give, his tense shoulders dipping slightly under my palms. He wrapped his arms tight around my waist and pulled my body into his. His lips parted under mine, inviting me in.
For once.
I pulled away, shaking my head. "I don't know that I'd say relationship? What's wrong with you?"
He groaned into my hair. "I don't know. But don't walk away from me, not now..."
God, if only I could. If only I could keep Rob from seeing how powerless I felt in the wake of wanting him. Rob was the ocean wave, and my feet kept slipping in the surf, unable to resist his pull towards the sea.
I looped my fingers through his belt loops, holding his hard body against mine. My knuckles brushed over the rough denim of his jeans, the warm skin over the indent of his hips and the firmness of his six-pack even through his t-shirt. Then his lips were against mine again, full of passion. The firmness of his mouth against mine, as if he would possess me, was countered by the softness of those pink lips.
He tasted like mint Chapstick and future agony and I didn't have it in me to care any more about the future.
Rob's hand on my lower back slipped under my waistband, his fingers warm against my skin, and I gasped into his shoulder at the intimate touch. His hand cupped my ass cheek, caressing the weight of it in his hand, and it seemed unfair that he could touch me so intimately when I wasn't touching him like that. Yet. As we kissed, my fingers worked blindly on the buckle of his belt, the button and zipper of his jeans. Fumbling with his clothes, touching his abs and that rock-hard pelvis, made my heat for him grow.
He smiled into my kiss, his lips on mine quirking up, as his hand fell over mine to push the button through. I slid my hand into his jeans, feeling the warm bulk of him through his boxers, and I grabbed him. Tight. Rob's smile against my lips widened.
"Are we really doing this right here?" he murmured.
"There's no one around," I murmured back. My hand stroked deeper, past his cock to take his balls firmly. I'd read in Cosmo once that you shouldn't mess around and be scared of the balls; act like you own them.
Rob was kissing me again, and he certainly didn't seem to mind. His hand retreated from my jeans, his hands wrapping around my hips, and for a second I was disappointed. Then he picked me up, and I twined my arms and legs around him, surprised. The feel of his muscular abs under my thighs, of his shoulders under my arms, was magnetic.
"There's a picnic bench," he murmured into my ear. "The ground is muddy."
"You're such a romantic.”
Rob carried me down the moonlit path to a picnic bench. When my feet touched the ground, I stroked my hands down his chest and abs, but he took a step back. He pulled his t-shirt over his head in one swift motion, revealing those powerful arms and the V of his waist. Then he spread the t-shirt over the edge of the picnic table.
Rob picked me up and set me on the table, and I felt the hardness of the wooden table beneath my ass, even through the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Rob pulled my jeans down, kneeling in front of me, working them over my thighs, and I kicked them away. Rob was grinning as he snatched them from mid-air. "I'm trying to keep them out of the mud."
"I don't care," I said.
He tossed the jeans onto the table behind me, pressing his lips to the edge of my panties. At his constant, firm kisses, the working of his mouth along the elastic band, I felt my head roll back. Above me, the trees shaded us from the view of even the stars; I glimpsed their silver light sporadically between the spidery web of branches above. But my glimps
es of the sky were the most beautiful night sky I'd ever seen, as Rob worked my panties down my thighs, his mouth following in trace, kissing his way down my legs. He kissed the inside of my ankle, the arch of my foot, as if he loved every bit of me.
Then he stood, tossing the underwear onto the table too. I knew he was trying to get back down to continue his slow loving of my most intimate places, but I wrapped my arms around him, drawing him close, my lips seeking his again. As we kissed, I yanked down his jeans and boxers so I could stroke him again, feeling his lips part against mine in pleasure.
But he still pulled away from me to kiss my inner thigh. He kissed inwards until his lips pressed against my center. His eyes flickered up to mine, gauging my reaction. Those blue eyes, warm and interested in my pleasure, were the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen.
His mouth parted, his tongue gliding, exploring, tasting me thoughtfully. His mouth began to work against me, his tongue pulsing steadily inside, stroking my clit hard every time he pushed inside me. I felt my hands tighten on his shoulders as the heat built.
"Stop," I murmured. "I'm about to come, and I want your cock."
His eyes crinkled at the corners. He turned his face to kiss my inner thigh again, and then stood, his leanly muscled torso between my thighs. "Those just might be the sweetest words in the English language."
I felt my cheeks flush slightly. "I don't usually talk like that."
"Well, I love it," he said. He lifted my chin to kiss me again. His hand on my jaw felt so right.
I wrapped my thighs tight around his body, pulling him in. He bent to grab a condom from the pocket of his jeans, and I grinned. "You knew we'd end up having sex in the woods?"
"To be honest, I'm always hoping for sex with you," he said. "In the ocean. In the woods. In the Suburban."
"We should reclaim it," I said, thinking of the trauma of the carjacking.
"Yes," he said softly. "I like the way you think."
Then I was easing myself even closer to him, my fingers biting into the hard wooden edge of the picnic table, as he pressed his cock against me. He thrust inside me, and I let my head fall back again.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, kissing the top of my breasts. His hands settled on my waist, and then even his words and the stars and the trees above were lost to the rhythm of our bodies moving together, to the pure hot flush of pleasure that rose over my body.
When my orgasm bloomed, my toes curling with my legs wrapped around his waist, my fingers dug deep into his muscular shoulders. He lifted me off the table, his hands tight on my ass, as we shuddered together. The cool night air skated over our bodies, doing little to dull the heat we shared.
I came back to earth slowly, feeling oversensitive now from my powerful orgasm and yet still loving the warmth of his body held against my thighs. I kept one arm looped over his shoulders as I pushed the hair out of my eyes, feeling suddenly shy.
We'd really just had sex. In the woods. I was turning into a different person.
Or maybe I'd always been a slightly different person than the staid, good girl everyone thought I was.
Rob kissed my neck as he set me back down on the picnic table. I felt the air caressing my body, the breeze that slipped over my nipples and my belly and my swollen sex, and the hard wood under my ass, and the heat of him as he still couldn't stop kissing me.
Being a good girl had always been overrated.
22
Rob
Naomi waved my hand away from the radio knob. "I don't care if it's your car. It's still driver's choice."
"You love this sappy Irish guy, huh?" I cocked my head at Naomi, smiling.
"Cailim Reid's not sappy!" Naomi sounded exasperated, but it was playful. I knew damn well who this singer was now; I was already thinking about flying to Naomi to California to catch Reid’s current tour.
I checked my cell phone and realized I had several missed calls from Liam. I sat forward, anxious, pressing the phone to my ear. Naomi turned down the tree-lined drive. In front of us spread the expansive house, and it looked like every light in the house was on. Instead of seeming homey and welcoming, the sight made my stomach drop in dread.
Liam was already running out to the car as Naomi pulled to a stop. I threw open my door at the same time as my brother's voice in the phone message rose in my ear: Where are you? Dad's in the hospital. Someone put him in a coma, Rob.
My grandmother was right behind him. Those steely blue eyes of hers met mine, and then they flooded with tears. I closed my arms around her, hugging her tight. She felt small and fail just then.
“I’ll take care of it,” I promised her.
Whatever that meant.
Just over an hour later, we slammed our car doors shut in the late-night gloom of the Boston General Hospital parking lot. Liam strode across the parking lot, without waiting for me and Naomi. He called back over his shoulder, “I’ll get Dad’s room assignment.”
He’d been straight-spined and anxious on the way there, his leg bobbing against the back of my seat until I wanted to strangle him. Maybe I was a little on edge himself.
"Are you sure you want me to come in?" Naomi murmured to me as Liam disappeared amongst the parked cars. "That you don't want privacy?"
"Had enough of me?" It was the same thing she'd asked before even coming with Liam and me to see Mitch. I couldn't stand the thought of being away from her, not knowing where she was and if she was safe, after Mitch had been attacked. I knew that my father's coma probably had no bearing on Naomi's life and well-being, but this incident still had ignited a spark of anxiety. I wondered, too, if the carjacking had been the simple armed robbery it had seemed to be. It seemed strangely coincidental that there was so much violence exploding in the orbit of the Delaney family.
"Well," she said. "I was trying not to be that blunt, but..."
I wrapped my hands around her waist suddenly, pulling her forward so quickly that she let out a small laugh of surprise as her hands settled onto my broad shoulders.
"Watch yourself, missy," I growled, before pressing a quick kiss to her lips. Her soft mouth parted against mine, and no matter how worried I was, I wanted to stop and ravish her there in the parking lot. My desire blossomed as we stood wrapped in each other in the middle of a concrete parking lot.
She pulled away to murmur, "I see how it is. You kiss me to make me shut up."
Naomi was looking up at me curiously. I wondered what it was she was thinking about. As much as I wanted to know what made Naomi tick, what thoughts ran through her mind, I wasn't up to exploring that question before I had to face my father's unconscious body. So I gently rubbed her shoulders, looking into those concerned golden-brown eyes.
"I don't mind having you there," I said. "I don't mind letting you into any part of my life, Naomi. But it probably wouldn't be much fun for you. Do you want to hang out in the Starbucks with your Kindle? Someplace nice and public?"
"Are you ever going to relax again?"
"Probably not, no." I touched the small of her back as we walked towards the hospital, enjoying the small familiarity, the way the curve of her spine met her ass. "I wasn't the most laidback person to begin with, according to my brothers."
The other Delaney brothers were converging in the face of recent events, as soon as they could get military leave, coming home to a place none of us considered home anymore. Nicky was in Afghanistan at the moment; I wasn’t sure if he would make it home or not. I hoped Mitch didn’t die while he was on foreign soil. The thought of how that would tear Nicky apart made me anxious.
I saw Naomi settled into a chair in the 24-hour Starbucks with a latte. She looked up at me with a mix of concern and teasing, rolling the paper cup between her palms. "I'll be right here if you need me. Don't worry."
I leaned close to her, breathing in the citrus-and-vanilla scents of her perfume, to press my lips against her irresistible cheekbone. Her hand fell against my neck, a warm and comforting weight. I wanted to say something to her, to te
ll her how much it meant that she was there when I needed her.
Instead, I gave her one last kiss and turned and left. I met Liam in the lobby, which was an enormous bubble of ash-colored wood. Pale light, the first blush of dawn, trickled in through skylights high above.
Liam was typing busily on his phone. When I reached his side, he loped towards the elevators without looking up. I felt myself quirk an eyebrow involuntarily, but I followed Liam.
Mitch had a private suite on the fifth floor. Liam entered the dimly-lit, quiet room without knocking. To my surprise, the room was empty.
"Where's security?" I demanded. "Someone put Mitch in a coma and there are no police here?"
"I don't know." Liam stood for a minute by the hospital bed, worry written across his face, and then took a step back. "I have to go to the nurse's station; I'll ask."
"Fine. If they aren't going to get the job done, I'll call Joe. Ask him about private security."
Liam nodded impatiently.
When Liam had gone, I finally, reluctantly, had to turn to the hospital bed.
Mitch's tall, broad-shouldered body looked hollow. A tube ran down his throat, white medical tape partially obscuring his features. For some reason, I flashed back to my father laughing, on the sailboat we took out on long weekends in Rhode Island. His dark hair was caught in the salt-tinged breeze. When his lips turned up in that square-jawed face, his eyes lighting up, it was hard for anyone not to smile along.
Liam came back in and drew a seat next to Mitch's bed, the wooden legs of the chair squeaking along the linoleum floor. "They're going to send the doctor in soon to talk to us."
"Good."
Liam raised his eyebrows at me, then jerked his head towards the seat on the opposite side of the bed. "You gonna sit down?"
"I'm fine." I waved it off, leaning against the wall. "Just had a long car ride. Don't want to sit."
For a few minutes, the two of us watched Mitch in silence. The room was eerily quiet, creating a creeping sense of expectation that something had to happen soon. When the door opened and two doctors came in, I felt a sense of relief. I stood away from the cool wall.
