Crave Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 3)

by Cecy Robson

  “What do you mean?” she asks. Her hand stills over my shoulder. “Wait, you don’t mean every time you had sex?”

  I shrug. “She liked to be clean.”

  “Evan, there’s a difference between clean and walking around with a stick rammed up your ass. It’s a miracle you could bend her over.”

  “She could be intense,” I agree. “But it’s not my intent to disparage her. Sex with her, and with Aliyah—”

  “Who’s Aliyah?”

  “She was the woman before Saundra.” I smirk. “She liked to be clean, too, and would dress immediately after we finished.

  “Holy shit. Are all English women like that?”

  “Only the women I seemed to attract.” I don’t admit why I stayed with them as long as I did. They were safe, I didn’t have to worry they’d find someone else to entertain them while I work. Although that epiphany only appeared after I found Wren.

  I gather the strands of hair dangling against her cheek, allowing them to glide between my fingers. “Before you, sex was something of a task, an attempt to be intimate for the sake of intimacy. That’s not what I feel when I’m with you. When we make love, it’s just one more thing that brings us closer.”

  “I think I know what you mean,” she replies, her more serious demeanor returning. “But when we’re together like this, it’s extreme. I like it, don’t get me wrong. I’m just tired of having sex and not much else. It’s why I’ve held off being with you. I want us to be better than that.”

  “We are,” I assure her. “You bring out the best in me, in and out of bed.” I keep my eyes on hers to prove I mean what I say. “As much as I’ve lived, I wasn’t alive until I met you.”

  She clutches my arms as they wind around her. “You really are too good to be true.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I admit, sweeping my jaw along the curve of her neck. “What I do know is you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  A small gasp releases from her lips. I can’t tell if she means to laugh or cry, but it’s the latter that worries me. My arms tighten around her. “Tell me what happened at your house.”

  Her small fingernails pass along my forearms. “There’s not much to tell. My neighbors called my brothers when they heard the crash and saw the damage. No one saw anything.” She shakes her head. “But it’s not like we don’t know who did it. God, I guess that was him following me.”

  Her voice drifts as if picturing the damage. “Curran came over along with another cop who filed a report. Angus and Seamus boarded up the window and cleaned the mess. They’re going to find a replacement when Home Depot opens. I’ll have to leave work early tomorrow.” She steals a glimpse at the clock, making a face. “I mean later today.”

  “You’re not returning to your house without me.”

  “I won’t be alone. My brothers will be there since Finnie’s away.”

  “I don’t care. Based on everything that’s happened, you’re not driving there alone.” My tone is sharp and absolute.

  Hers remains patient and as soft as her touch. “Evan, you have the biggest deal in your company’s history taking place at noon.”

  “So have them meet us later.”

  “I don’t want to keep you from your work,” she says. “Especially when your competitors are going to be scrambling to steal potential clients and push their products at a cheaper rate. You have to be ready to strike and keep the momentum of this sale going.”

  “I will,” I assure her. “But not at the expense of your safety. When we return to your house, I want you to gather your things and move in with me.”

  “I can’t move in with you because some asshole’s making trouble for me.”

  “It’s not because of him. It’s for us and what we’re becoming.” Her hesitation threads in the space between us, not that I’m surprised. While Wren has given a great deal of herself, she’s never bared herself to me in the way I most want. The guard around her soul remains.

  I nuzzle her close and give her a moment. It’s something I often do. Many times, like now, it’s all she needs. The corners of her mouth lift into a soft smile. “I wish I could tell you yes,” she says.

  “What’s stopping you?” I ask, stroking her spine.

  “I’m a good Catholic girl,” she begins, only to grimace. “Scratch that. I suck at being Catholic. But me moving in with you, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  I prop the few pillows that remain on the bed and pull her up with me. She reaches for the sheet and tucks it around us, settling against my chest where she belongs.

  “From the start, nothing has progressed the way either of us likely intended,” I say, allowing each word to sink in. “But it has progressed and I love where it’s taken us.”

  “Love?”

  Her tone is barely audible, and there’s a great deal behind what she’s asking. I don’t back-peddle or dismiss the word. “That’s right,” I say, feeling her grow rigid. “We gave into our physical desires rather quickly, but it didn’t ruin the friendship that had begun or the feelings that followed. You mean everything to me and I want you with me.”

  She shifts her position so she can see me. “It’s only been a few months,” she reminds me.

  “Perhaps. But I know what I feel and I want us to grow closer.” My lips brush against her hair. “Even more than we are.”

  She rests her chin on her hand, appearing to give what I tell her a great deal of thought. “At the very least, stay with me until your brother returns from his promotional tour,” I whisper. “If you want to return home then, I’ll let you.”

  “You’ll let me, huh?”

  I laugh when she does. “You know what I mean. If you need your space, I’ll understand and respect your decision.”

  “You won’t be mad and fire my ass?”

  My humor fades although she means to make me laugh. “I only want you to be safe.”

  Traces of her worry return, dulling her features. “Me, too,” she says.

  As the quiet spreads, I’m almost certain we’ll return to sleep. “Evan . . . tell me something about you.”

  “Like what? I’ll tell whatever you want to know.”

  She tilts her head. “Why don’t you ever talk about your parents? You seem to avoid mentioning them.”

  “Some things are too hard to speak of,” I reply.

  “I think I know what you mean,” she says. “But I’ll admit, I’m surprised to hear you say it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of who you are.” She kisses my sternum, her lips barely grazing the skin. “Everything that makes you, you must’ve been shaped by someone special.”

  “And what am I?” I ask.

  She lifts off me, smiling in a way she never has before now. “You’re the best man I know,” she whispers.

  I don’t move. Despite hard work and my many accomplishments, nothing has ever meant more.

  The edges of her hair trail against my chest as she climbs on top of me, our mouths immediately finding each other. We take our time, exploring each other and allowing our passion to build.

  A soft moan vibrates in her throat as I harden beneath her. I should pour my heart out between kisses and confess everything I feel—for her and everything she does for me, and how I’ve only grown stronger with her at my side. Mostly, I want to tell her that I can’t imagine life without her.

  Instead, I flip her onto her back, slipping my arm beneath her waist and penetrating her deep. Her hands shoot up, her palms pressing against the headboard to keep her in place. She seems so delicate beneath my weight and large frame. But as always her strength is never far from the surface.

  “You’re holding back, bossman,” she tells me, nibbling on the soft spot behind my ear.

  I groan when she bears down and her body fastens around me like a vice. “Would you prefer I try harder?” I ask, driving forward and giving her nipple a tug.

  Her hands slip away from the headboard to grip the sheets, her
grunts of passion urging me faster.

  Every thrust and touch, demonstrates what I fail to say.

  I love you, Wren, and I want you to marry me.

  CHAPTER 18

  Evan

  “You know what I think?”

  My stare darts briefly in Wren’s direction as I accelerate through the intersection. “Are we about to discuss business or pleasure?”

  Her mouth twists into that smirk she uses when she’s feeling exceptionally playful. “Both. But you’re going to like what I have to say.”

  “All right,” I say, turning as Alfred leads me into a residential neighborhood. “What is it?”

  “I think we need to incorporate Naked Sundays.”

  I almost run off the road. “Excuse me?”

  Her hand slips onto my lap. “You work too hard. Starting tomorrow we’re starting Naked Sundays and implementing every rule implied therein. Everything you do, you have to be naked—unless you’re frying food. Then I’ll allow an apron.” She dances her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t want to burn your important bits, would you? Unless you want me to kiss them and make them feel better.”

  I make a hard U-turn. “Evan, what are you doing?”

  “I think you’re right. I work too hard. We should extend Naked Sundays to include Saturdays, starting today.”

  She tugs on my arm, laughing. “Later, I promise. But let’s go to the party first. Come on, you promised,” she says when I continue ahead.

  “Fine,” I say. “Alfred, resume navigation.”

  “Resuming navigation,” he calls.

  I turn around at the next block. “Tell me more about Naked Sundays,” I say.

  “Oh, I don’t think you’ll find them as easy as they sound,” she teases.

  “No?”

  “Nope. Because as a rule, you can’t do anything that constitutes work.” She counts off on her fingers. “No projects, no research, no business. That includes work around the house.”

  “And what happens if I do?” I ask.

  “You’ll be punished,” she whispers in my ear.

  I stop smiling. “Will I like this punishment?” I ask, all but begging her to tell me yes and fighting not to return us home and find out.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” she says. She extends her arms and folds them over her head, causing her breasts to strain against blouse. “I can only guarantee you’ll remember it.”

  “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” I say over Alfred’s command to turn right.

  “Yeah, I do,” she says. “Why else would I want you naked?”

  I slow as I pull into a modest neighborhood packed with brick homes. “Are you trying to get back at me for the other day?”

  “What do you mean?” She turns to glance out the window. “Oh, are you talking about when I walked into your private bathroom to give you a clean suit following your shower? And you pushed me up against the sink and slipped your hand up my skirt?”

  “Ah,” I say, thinking back to how her skin flushed and she whimpered.

  “You think I’m mad about that? About you giving me a screaming orgasm and then running off to take that call from the president of Mellon before I could return the favor?” She shrugs. “Nah, I’ve forgotten all about that.”

  I groan. “It was harder on me than it was on you, I assure you.”

  “I’ll bet it was,” she says laughing. She taps the navigations screen. “Looks like we’re almost here.”

  “Destination three hundred feet ahead on right,” Alfred agrees.

  “You’ve never been here before?” I ask.

  “Never,” she admits. “Though I used to run a few blocks from here.”

  “This isn’t a relative of yours?” I ask, trying to understand why she’s unfamiliar with the residence.

  She does a quick check of her phone as I park along the curb. “For once, no.”

  “A friend?” I press, shutting off the engine.

  She reaches for the carefully wrapped gift at her feet. “I’m hoping he can be,” she says, appearing to enjoy pulling that chain she’s fastened around me.

  I slip out of the SUV and walk around to open Wren’s door. “Alfred, watch,” I say, ordering the security system to activate as I reach for her hand to help her out.

  “Watching,” Alfred announces when the door slams shut.

  We walk toward four large balloons fastened to a mailbox. They bounce as the warm spring breeze sweeps through them, and another car drives by. “My darling,” I say. “What are you up to?”

  “I’m not up to anything,” she assures me. “Gavin Merrick is turning four and we’re here to celebrate.”

  “Who’s Gavin Merrick?” I ask.

  “Clifton’s son,” she responds.

  “He has as son?”

  “And a wife he’s been with since high school.” She sweeps her fingers along my temple. “You have some really great people on your team. I think it’s time you get to know them.”

  I rub my jaw. “It’s hard to associate with employees on a personal level, given the position I hold. I appreciate what you’re doing, but should I fail—”

  “You won’t,” she replies, glancing toward the freshly painted black door. “I know the last few deals have fallen through. But you’re going to make it right.”

  “But if I somehow can’t, how can in I, in good conscience release someone who considers me his friend?”

  She stops at the bottom of the brick steps darkened by time and the city’s cruel winters. “Evan, you’re the type of man who would feel bad about letting any employee you respect go. That won’t change whether you share a few beers with them or continue to hold them at arm’s length.”

  Her expression softens as well as her voice when I start to argue, effectively cutting me off. “People like Clifton worship you, they see you as this god who walks the halls, emanating intelligence and success like air they need to breathe. Their last boss sucked balls. Big, hairy, wrinkled balls. Where he yelled, threatened, and obligated them to obedience, you guide them and give them something to believe in.”

  “You’re giving me too much credit,” I tell her.

  “You’re wrong.” Her breasts graze my chest as she pushes up on her toes. I bend to meet her mouth, but instead of her open mouth sealing over mine and her tongue stroking lightly, soft lips press close to my ear. “You’re a good man,” she whispers. “Let the world see what I’ve known from the start.”

  Her words and the way she says them render me speechless. If it weren’t for the front door opening, I wouldn’t be able to turn away.

  A woman with pale blonde hair pulled away from her face stands at the threshold, huddling into her thick brown sweater. “Hello,” she says.

  “Good afternoon,” I reply, at the same time Wren says, “Hey, there.”

  The woman looks too young to appear so weary, the deep wrinkles and dark circles ringing her eyes suggesting the few decades she’s lived have been challenging. Despite her troubles, she welcomes us with a warm smile, opening the door wider, so a small boy can inch through.

  Wren steps closer when she sees the small boy cautiously edging forward. He leans heavily on a small metal walker, his skin blanched, but his stare alert. And although he’s at the top of the steps, Wren has to bend to meet his face, given his slight stature.

  It’s difficult to see someone so young and fragile. I force a smile, unlike Wren who beams at him. “Hey, handsome,” she tells him.

  “I’m Susanna,” she says. “And this is Gavin.” She laughs a little, appearing embarrassed. “I apologize. Are you a friend of Clifton’s?”

  “Evan?” Clifton calls. He appears at his wife’s side, clearly stunned. “This is Evan Jonah,” he tells her before I can reply. “My boss.” He turns away from her gaping face. “I’m sorry, Evan. We weren’t expecting you.” He looks to Wren. “And this is Wren his . . .”

  “Better half,” I reply with a wink.

  She glances over her shoulder just to smirk, the gle
am in her eyes curving the corners of my mouth. I want to introduce her as my fiancée. But I haven’t asked, and I won’t until my company is secure and I can give her everything she deserves.

  She turns her attention on the little boy. “Hi, Gavin. Is it your birthday today?”

  Already he’s enthralled by her, not that I blame him. But it’s the way he seems surprised that anyone noticed him that troubles me.

  “He’s a little shy,” his mother says, the admission adding an extra pitch of sadness to her tone.

  “I can’t blame him,” Wren says, keeping her focus on Gavin. “You know, when I was your age I was really shy, too.”

  “Really?” Clifton asks.

  “No. I came out of the womb mouthing off.”

  We laugh although it’s the grin spreading across the little Gavin’s face that makes me believe her comment was meant solely for him.

  She told me I was kind. I try to be, though it’s an attribute that comes so easily to Wren.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry. Here we are standing for no reason,” Susanna says. “Please, come in.”

  Gavin stumbles back, the leg of his walker appearing to catch between the doorway and the steps. I hurry forward when Clifton has trouble pulling it lose.

  “Careful, honey,” Susanna says, placing her hand on Gavin’s shoulder to steady him. “You don’t want to bend the end.”

  “Want to come in with me, buddy?” Wren asks, extending her arms.

  The boy briefly hesitates, lifting his hands and allowing Wren to gather him into her arms. “Ever hear of Jack and the Beanstalk?”

  I don’t hear the little boy respond, only Wren as she disappears into the house with him. “Well, let me tell you the O’Brien version also known as ‘Angus gets caught eating the pie for the church social by Ma, the not so big but scary, giant.’ I have to warn you, it doesn’t end well for Angus.’”

  Clifton and I laugh as we pull the walker free from the crack. I straighten to see Susanna smiling. “She’s really great,” she says, turning to me. “Do you have kids?”