Strength In Release (The Charistown Series Book 5)

by Lisa N. Paul

  As she released each lock on the door, she reminded herself that Sebastian could only see as much of her as she allowed. Keep your walls up, Dalton.

  “Wanting to see how long I’d wait?” He grinned, his freshly shaven face showcasing dimples that could easily melt the snow beneath his boots. Dressed in leather and denim, the man was a visual dessert no amount of chocolate could ever replicate. “These reminded me of you.” He handed her a bouquet of Sterling roses she hadn’t noticed he was holding.

  In general, roses weren’t her favorite flower, but the purple ones were difficult to find. Did he know what they meant? Enchantment.

  Spotting his motorcycle in her driveway, she looked back at the flowers. “I’m amazed you got them here in such great condition. Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

  Sebastian’s mouth kicked up in a knowing grin. “If it’s on my bike, it’s mine to care for.” Message received. “You seem to like watching me freeze on your doorstep, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, God!” Lyla laughed, grabbing his hand. “Come on in.”

  Sebastian crossed the threshold before closing and locking the door. Lyla inhaled the sweet fragrance of the roses, lifted onto her tiptoes, and attempted to place a kiss on Sebastian’s cheek, but with more than a foot between them in height, the task was more difficult than it seemed. What the fuck am I doing? Who is this lame girl in my body?

  Before she could back away, Sebastian looped his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and leaned his face down to hers. Cedar and leather filled her nose as she forgot her discomfort and moved to kiss the smooth skin of his cheek. Obviously the man had a different plan though, since just before she made contact with his face, he turned his head and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was quick, not nearly as passionate as the one he’d given her the night before when he walked her to the door after dinner. Even so, the damn kiss sizzled through her body, making her wonder if he could hear her panties dampening beneath her yoga pants.

  Pulling back from his hold, Lyla released a shaky breath. “I’m gonna go put these in water. Hang up your coat on the rack and meet me in the kitchen.”

  As she beat feet to the back of her house, she swore she heard chuckling by the door.

  ***

  OF THE COUPLE of times Sebastian had been in Lyla’s house, he hadn’t given the kitchen a whole lot of thought, but as he entered the space, he realized that if one loved to cook, the kitchen was a dream. Granite countertops and high-end appliances sparkled and shined. However, what caught and held his attention was the way Lyla had ingredients and gadgets perfectly lined up. He’d heard from Max that the woman was a slob. Organized chaos, Janie had called it. That, however, was not what he saw.

  “Don’t be mad—”

  “Never a good way to start a conversation.” Lyla eyed him as she arranged the roses in a mason jar.

  “Ha, true. I’ll rephrase. This is one organized setup you’ve got going on here.”

  Rolling her eyes, Lyla set the mason jar on the kitchen table before turning to face him. “Word got out, huh? I’m kinda messy, but there is a method to my mess. I like to call it—”

  “Organized chaos,” they said together.

  “Wow, you really did get the scoop. Some great friends I have,” she said without a hint of agitation.

  “Stop fishing, woman. You know how they feel.” And every minute he spent with her led him in the same direction.

  Lyla shrugged. “What looks like clutter and confusion to most is actually a system to me, especially when it comes to work. My desk is piled with papers and Post-its, each containing valuable information. I know where every single thing is. One time, years ago, Janie decided to surprise me by cleaning and organizing my office.” Lyla dramatically lifted her hand to her forehead and sighed. “I nearly had a heart attack. It took days to put everything back the way I needed it. Needless to say, Jane learned to leave that stuff alone.”

  “Then what’s the deal with the pristine kitchen?”

  “This”—she stretched her arms in indicate the whole room—“is my haven, Sebastian. This is where I can let go. The rules have been set, recipes written. There is power in precision and passion in the final product. Cooking lets me create beauty without having to manufacture it on my own. And when I’m done with my labor, I get to indulge.”

  Her blue irises twinkled as she described with fervor something he had been doing for himself for nearly twenty years without any thought at all.

  The sultriness of her voice seduced him while her sheer enthusiasm had him excited to follow her lead. “Let’s do this. What are we making?”

  NINETY MINUTES AND countless feminine huffs later, Sebastian could no longer hold back his laughter. “What is your deal, sweetheart? You having an asthma attack or something?”

  “Are you kidding?” Lyla’s eyes were narrowed slits, her bottom lip swollen from how much it had been tucked between her teeth. Damn, what he wanted to do to that lip. “Look at this place! It’s a fucking disaster, and we haven’t even gotten the lasagna in the oven or started on the salad.”

  He gazed over the kitchen. She wasn’t wrong. He’d never made pasta from scratch and couldn’t wait to try it. Frankly, he thought he’d done a great job. So what if there was flour everywhere? Who cared if the tomato sauce had boiled over the pot when he grabbed her from behind and finally gave her the kiss he’d been dying to give her since he walked through the door? So there was grated cheese on the floor, so what? In fact, seeing the usually unflappable Lyla Dalton so unhinged was worth every minute of cleanup he would have to endure.

  “There’s a mess, who cares?” His confident statement seemed to rile her up even more. So easy, so damn sexy.

  “Who cares? I care! Rules, precision, passion! My haven, Sebastian, remember?”

  Stalking from the far side of the kitchen toward her, he watched as her eyes went from slits to saucers. “Shall I remind you that this whole process may be your haven, but as you said, the passion is in the final product.” Tracing his thumb over her lip, its softness teasing him, he bent close and said, “Does it really matter how messy the process is when the outcome is so goddamn delicious?”

  A puff of air left Lyla’s mouth. Unlike the huffs he’d pretended to ignore, this one sounded like surrender, relief, music. Cupping her cheek, he pressed his lips to hers and claimed her mouth. Tasted her fire. Stroked her flames with his tongue as she moaned into his mouth.

  He craved her, and as she held onto his wrists and pressed her body against his, no doubt feeling every inch of his desire, he knew it was time to pull back. She wasn’t ready. They weren’t ready. Not yet. Fuck, he hated when rationality stepped in.

  “Not yet.” He kissed her lips softly before placing distance between them.

  Brows meeting her hairline, Lyla’s gaze dropped to the bulge in his jeans. “You’re kidding?”

  “Are you ready to forgo the cuffs?” He looked down to where they were joined, her small fingers barely able to contain his thick wrist but still trying their best—most likely instinct. But until she felt safe, until his arms represented freedom, they couldn’t be together. Not in that way.

  ***

  DROPPING HER HANDS, she backed away. Shame coated her skin like tar. God, she wanted him, really wanted him like she hadn’t wanted any other man in her life. Darkness like a shadow crept into her thoughts. So many secrets, so much ruin. There wasn’t any room for a man like Sebastian when she was filled with the sins of her past.

  “Hey, look at me.”

  His gravelly voice yanked her from her thoughts, dropping her back into embarrassment. Damn, her cheeks felt hot—they were likely crimson. I don’t fucking blush. Wanting nothing more than to be alone, Lyla turned her back in an effort to leave the kitchen.

  “Don’t.” His lead-filled request, instead of a demeaning command, left her standing still.

  Silence filled the room. When she turned around, Sebastian’s broad body and soft gaze nearly brought her to her
knees.

  “Haven, Lyla. When we get together, what we’ll find will be our haven. Not a hideout or a pit stop. It will be our end game. It’ll be worth the wait. If anything, trust that.”

  Trust—there was that word again. Although for some reason, a piece of her wanted nothing more than to trust him. Then to really trust her new family. To believe in her bones that there were people out there, other than Janie, who would have her back when the world went crazy. As it always did. As it always would. Maybe she could try. Maybe after seeing her father, she would finally be able to move on with her life.

  “Ly?”

  “I’m good. Those kisses of yours should be registered as weapons,” she teased in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Anyway, we’re never going to eat if we don’t get the lasagna in the oven. And don’t think for a second that you’re getting out of here without helping me clean up the entire kitchen.”

  The look on Sebastian’s face said he knew she was faking the light mood, but his words reaffirmed he was an incredible man. “I know all about your cleanup policy, Ms. Dalton.” His arms folded across his chest, no doubt purposely accentuating his biceps. “Not sure what you’ve done with the other guys you’ve cooked for, but when it’s you and me, we both cook and we both clean.”

  “Says the man who whipped around my kitchen like a Tasmanian devil.” Lyla giggled before quietly adding, “And there has never been another guy.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You certainly don’t need an ego fluffing, but truth is truth. Cooking is personal to me. Other than Janie, you’re the only person I’ve done this with.”

  Like a small boy who had just been given his first remote-controlled car, or better yet, like the day she watched him climb into the Lotus, he beamed. Deep dimples appeared in both cheeks as he pulled her into his chest and squeezed. He smelled so good, and felt so strong.

  “I can’t… breathe.” His arms loosened, and in a weird way, Lyla missed the tightness.

  “You’re so small. I’m scared I’ll break you.”

  “You won’t.”

  “No, I won’t. Might make you sore”—he winked—“but I’ll never hurt you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Indulgence

  THE SUN YAWNED behind the winter clouds as Lyla stepped out of the shower and dressed for the day.

  Her stomach was twisted in knots over the road trip she would take later that evening. She made sure to pack her sleeping pills with her toiletries, otherwise she’d be a disaster in the morning. Probably should have taken one last night. She remembered the hours she’d stared at the ceiling, first thinking about the evening with Sebastian then pleasuring herself to him.

  Google Maps claimed the drive would take over three hours, landing her in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania—just a couple of miles from the prison—early enough to check into the hotel and hopefully get some rest before the next day’s visit. A visit she needed to push from her mind if she intended to get any work done before she left. She had columns to write and only a handful of hours to get them done. Thankfully, she had no articles to write, so a few hours would probably be enough time to get most of it done, if she stayed focused.

  Her cell chimed with a text message. Christ, four hours felt like minutes when she worked. Already after eleven? Part of her wanted to ignore the text because she knew it was close to Janie’s lunch period.

  Lyla had chickened out by telling her friend about her prison visit via a voice message left when she knew Janie was in class. Janie would be pissed, hurt even. She’d made it clear that she would always support Lyla, stand by her side, especially when it came to her father. The thing was, Janie only knew bits and pieces of what went down back then.

  Lyla loved her best friend too much to ever scar her with the whole story. If she was being honest, she needed Janie too much to ever bare those truths to her. Knowing everything would change everything. No, it wasn’t an option. Not ever.

  Going to see her father was something Lyla needed to do alone. She had to see the man, the monster. After sixteen years, she was no longer a little girl but a grown-ass woman. She was strong (as far as anyone knew), she was tough, and she was smart. He wouldn’t hurt her anymore. He couldn’t. And once she saw that with her own eyes, her fear would finally go away. Hopefully.

  When a second text chimed, Lyla sighed and looked at the screen. Both messages were from Sebastian.

  The first was a picture of a Harley upright on the floor of the Gage Garage. The text read:

  Work

  The second was a large cup of coffee with the caption:

  Indulgence

  Two more texts pinged.

  The first was an image of a laptop. On the screen, the word Work appeared.

  The final text. A picture of her front door. Sitting on her welcome mat was a tray with a lidded coffee cup and a brown box. The caption read:

  Indulgence. Enjoy.

  Squealing, Lyla ran down the steps, unlocked and opened the front door, and right there on her welcome mat was the image from the text. Darting her head from right to left, she saw no sign of Sebastian anywhere. With pleasure and a small amount of disappointment zinging through her body, she lifted the tray and backed into her house.

  ***

  BARELY DOWN THE street, Sebastian’s phone pinged. And pinged. And pinged a few more times. The garage was in the center of Charistown, only a few minutes from Lyla’s house. As soon as he parked the truck, he grabbed his cell.

  Lyla: That was soooo

  Lyla: Indulgent.

  Lyla: You could have knocked.

  The next text was a video clip of her tongue licking the frosting on the cinnamon bun he’d left her.

  “Fuck me,” he groaned into the empty truck.

  Lyla: We could have indulged together ;)

  Lyla: Seriously, thank you, Bastian. Xo

  Bastian? He loved that she’d called him that and couldn’t wait to hear it from her mouth. Her messages had him so wound up, he could have used his dick as a kickstand. Instead, he breathed deeply and responded.

  Sebastian: My pleasure, sweetheart. After seeing that tongue porn…glad I didn’t ring the bell. We both have a shit ton of work today. Call you tonight?

  Lyla: Not tonight. Will be writing all night and most of tomorrow. See you at Danny’s tomorrow night. Xo

  That last text felt off. He could understand the need for her to work undisturbed—she had explained that when she got into a writing groove, even a minor distraction could ruin her mojo—but did she mean no contact until Thursday night at the bar? His gut told him something was up, and his gut was never wrong. He’d bet his fortune it wasn’t another man, not with the way things had progressed between them—not to mention he refused to believe she was capable of such deception. Which left him with the thing he’d been asking from her—trust. He needed to sit back and wait, believe that she was writing as she said, and trust that all would be okay.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Under Control

  AFTER SCREWING THE nozzle back onto the gas tank, Lyla flipped the tiny door closed then slid into her car. Tank filled, fresh coffee in the cup holder, overnight bag in the trunk, and a call to her concerned lawyer—giving the details of the impending visit—left Lyla with nothing else to do but drive the distance.

  No more than a few minutes into the trip, Janie’s ringtone filled the air and her voice filled the car after the Bluetooth picked up the call. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Hello to you too.”

  “Don’t mess with me, Ly. Why are you going up there? You shouldn’t see that bastard alone. I would have gone with you.” The concern in Janie’s voice was palpable.

  “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you would have wanted to come, and I love you huge for that, but I need to do this on my own.” Janie’s silence made guilt bloom in Lyla’s chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I am. It’s just… this has haunted me, he has haunted me, for too long. I know if I finally s
ee him…” The words twisted on her tongue as the confidence she’d felt the night before faded. “I’m ready to see him. I can do it.”

  “Okay,” Janie said, sounding not the least bit okay. “I believe in you. I support you, even if you make it freaking impossible. Just please tell me, you did submit the victim impact letter to the parole board?”

  “Of course!”

  “Okay, good. I love you. Promise me you’ll call after you see him.”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Lyla Paige Dalton, if you don’t promise, I will drive my ass out there right now and you know how much I hate taking long drives by myself.”

  The thought of Janie taking such a road trip alone was as comical as it was pathetic. The girl could get lost in a paper bag. Even knowing that, she would hop in her car and drive to Rockview as promised.

  “I swear I will call you as soon as I leave the prison tomorrow. But you need to promise me something. Don’t tell anyone that I’m up here. Okay? Not Max, not Danny, not Kyle, and definitely not Sebastian. No one. Got it?”

  “Ly—”

  “You and me, Janie. You and me.”

  Lyla heard the hesitation in her friend’s voice before she agreed. So Lyla promised to text when she arrived at the hotel, and they disconnected, leaving Lyla alone with her thoughts.

  It had been over a week since Grammy and Poppy died. Eight days since she was escorted back to her home with a social worker and told to pack her clothes and some personal items to take to a foster home until they located her father. Her father, a man she had never heard of but who apparently was listed on her birth certificate.

  Twelve years old and she had lost her mom, her grandparents, her home, but somehow gained a dad? Was that even possible?

  The first time she met Mark Gruber, she knew where she had gotten her thick espresso hair and her wide smile. She could see why her mom had been attracted to him—he was handsome. Judging by the social worker’s smile, even she agreed. But there was something not quite soft in his dark brown eyes. Lyla was young, maybe even naïve given that she had been raised with so much love, but Mark made her leery.