by RC Boldt
“You don’t know anyone in Little Italy, Ry,” I interject.
“Or that I know some old Italian Mafia members who will dispose of your body for the small price of a few grand?”
I expel a weary sigh. “Are you done?”
Ry holds up a finger, lips parting, but then appears to think better of it. “Actually, yeah. I think that’s all I’ve got.” His expression turns to one of disgust. “How sad is that? I need to up my game if I ever have a daughter.”
Looking over at my best friend, I shake my head with a little laugh. “You’ll figure it out, man.” After a moment, I ask, “You ready to get hitched soon?”
“Hell yes.”
His lack of hesitation makes me happy—as does the fact that Maggie’s perfect for him.
“So the wedding is the perfect way to get things back on track.”
My brow furrows in confusion at his words. “What do you mean?”
He gestures with a hand. “You know, with a wedding, love is in the air, the champagne is flowing, and there’s something magical about it.” With a wink, he adds, “If you’re careful with the execution, it could be the end to the ‘plague’ you two have been dealing with.”
“From your lips to God’s ears, man,” I murmur, shaking my head. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
* * *
Two days later
I’m lounging on my couch, the TV on with the volume turned low as I channel surf. Finally, I turn it off and toss the remote aside with a groan. I shouldn’t stay up late since I have a full day of conference calls tomorrow, but I’m feeling antsy as hell right now.
My cell phone is practically taunting me from where it sits on my coffee table. I want to call her or text her—whichever—but with the odd way things ended between us the other day at my office, I’m left at a loss.
Shit. Running a hand through my hair and tugging at it in frustration, I decide to man up. “Fuck it, I’m calling her.”
The exact moment my fingers reach my phone, there’s a knock on the door, startling me. It’s nine thirty on a Thursday night, and I’m definitely not expecting anyone.
Padding over to the door, I peer through the peephole only to find no one there. Huh. Since I live a few blocks from Skidmore University, I figure it might be a drunk college kid who realized he had the wrong place. Turning to head back down the hall, I hear another knock. This time, when I peer out, I’m caught off guard at the sight of the woman standing there.
Pulling open the door, I know my surprise is apparent.
“Hey,” Sarah greets me with tentative wariness in her eyes.
“Hey, Sunshine.” Something about the way she shifts her weight from one foot to the other is like she’s uncertain whether I’d welcome her. Just as I start to say something, I catch sight of the shadows in her eyes, the way her lips press thin.
“Jack…” She falters, her features drawn, and I catch a glimpse of pain in her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m here. Somehow, this is where I ended up.” Her face crumples. “I just…need you.”
Without a thought, I shove the door open wider with my foot and hold out my arms. Within a split second, she’s pressed her body against me with her face burrowed in my chest. I wrap one arm around her securely and close and lock the door behind us. Reaching my other arm to scoop her up and cradle her to me, I walk down the hallway. Noticing the sudden dampness of my T-shirt, I feel the shuddering of her shoulders as she weeps silently.
“Let it all out,” I murmur against the top of her head into the softness of her hair. Heading to my bedroom, I go straight to my bathroom and gingerly set her on the edge of the large garden tub that I use once in a blue moon. Adjusting the water temperature, I start filling it and try to comfort her by running my hand over her back and pressing soft kisses to her hair.
Once the tub is filled, I start tugging off her shoes and socks before peeling off her shirt. “I’m going to shift you to stand so I can get your jeans off, okay?” I wait for her tiny nod before I do so.
When her red-rimmed eyes meet mine, it guts me like a swift kick to my solar plexus because my gutsy, ball-busting Sunshine is nowhere to be found right now.
Once I’ve stripped her of her jeans, she robotically moves to rid herself of her bra and underwear before allowing me to help her step carefully into the tub. The moment I go to release her hand, she tightens her grip, eyes darting up to mine, and there’s a hint of desperation in them.
“Please.” Her voice sounds delicate, thin. “Will you…get in with me?”
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. The thought hits me instantly with such fierce intensity that my chest suddenly has an odd sensation of pressure, tightness.
“Of course.”
Quickly, I disrobe and step into the tub behind her, gathering her into my arms once again. She leans back into my chest, our legs tangled together beneath the warmth of the water, and we remain silent as I hold her.
“It never gets easier.”
Her words are so faint and softly spoken I nearly miss them.
“They say it’s supposed to get easier, that you’ll eventually get hardened by it, but it hasn’t yet for me.” She shakes her head, the ends of her hair swishing in the bath water. “And I don’t know that I’d want it to.” Her voice cracks, and she pauses as if trying to collect herself. “I don’t know that I want to be hardened to it, to not…feel.”
After a lengthy pause, I’m certain she’s finished. But then she says, “I had a nine-year-old girl come in for an appendix rupture.” Sarah clears her throat before continuing. “Things were going along smoothly like they should. Until something happened.” Her shoulders shake, and I tighten my embrace. “Her body just…shut down, and nothing any of us tried to save her worked.”
Shifting in my arms, she repositions herself to the side, her left shoulder flush against my chest, and burrows her face into my neck. This is how we stay until the water grows tepid. As much as I love being able to comfort her, to be the person she turns to at a time like this, it’s not what ends up gutting me the most.
It’s her tiny, whispered words spoken against my throat.
“Thank you, Jack.”
My eyes fall closed as numerous emotions wash over me. I simply relish the feel of her in my arms, of her letting me be the one to hold her, of her choosing me tonight.
“Anytime, Sunshine. Anytime.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Sarah
I have no idea what brought me to Jack’s doorstep instead of Maggie’s. It makes no sense. Except for the fact that something deep within me ached for him to hold me. A part of me yearned for his touch alone, and a tiny voice inside my head whispered that only he could comfort me and help ease the pain brought on by this night.
“Thank you, Jack.”
My whispered words against his throat echo in the silence of the bathroom. I have no idea if he realizes how much his mere touch has soothed me. I’m practically burrowing into him, and he has yet to complain as he simply continues to hold me tightly nestled in his arms.
“Anytime, Sunshine. Anytime.” The gentle murmur of his response, with his voice maintaining a slight huskiness, washes over me.
The water grows tepid, and chill bumps begin to spread across my skin. Instantly, Jack shifts us. “I’m going to get towels.” He rises from the bathtub, and the water cascades over his muscular physique. Any other time, I’d take a moment to appreciate the sight. Right now, though, I see him as so much more than the handsome face and tight body.
I see him for the man he is on the inside. A man who didn’t think twice to hold me, who didn’t think twice about allowing me to disrupt his evening. A man who has more heart and compassion than I realized.
After we dry off, he tugs a soft, worn T-shirt over me, the hem falling to mid-thigh. He kneels at my feet with a pair of boxer briefs for me, and I place my hands on his shoulders and place each foot into them. Sliding them up my legs and over my hips, he rolls the wa
istband down a few times for a better fit.
His concerned gaze locks with mine, and his hands smooth back my hair from my face. As his thumbs dust across my cheekbones, his lips part, and his words absolutely rob me of breath.
“I’m glad you came to me tonight, Sunshine.” His Adam’s apple bobs as though he, too, is struggling with the cloud of emotion hanging over us tonight. He leans in, presses his lips to my forehead in a feather-soft kiss, and leaves them to linger. Speaking against my skin, he whispers, “I’ll always be here for you.”
My throat is tight with emotion as he backs away. “Let’s get you tucked into bed.” He pauses briefly. “Do you have an early shift tomorrow?”
Shaking my head to answer his question, I suddenly feel at a loss. The intimacy of the moment is at odds with my usual MO. I don’t make it a habit of opening up to men. I’d learned my lesson early on from my own mother. She never was the same after my dad left, and to this day, she continues to spend her life trying to change herself to please her latest man.
Jack leads me to his bed and peels back the covers. Wordlessly, I crawl into bed only to falter. Which side should I lie on? He must sense my hesitation.
“Pick any side you want.”
Turning my head, I question, “But you have a specific side, don’t you?”
His tender smile causes an unfamiliar feeling to flood through me. “As long as you’re next to me, that’s all that matters.”
I hold his gaze for a beat before nodding and settling on one side. He slips in beside me and pulls the covers over us. He doesn’t reach for me, and we lie side by side on our backs surrounded by the silence of the night.
My entire body is on edge, and I feel the urge to fidget. I’m still emotionally raw from this night, and it’s late. He’s done enough for me as it is, letting me barge in on him unannounced and—
“Get over here and snuggle with me, Sunshine.”
My head whips over to stare at his profile in the darkened room; the only light comes in slight shards, peeking through the venetian blinds. For a split second, my second-natured urge to give him sass comes rushing to the forefront, but he stops me before I can get the words out.
“It’s okay.” He sighs before turning his head on the pillow. “It’s okay to be held sometimes, you know.” There’s a pause and then, “Come here.” His voice has a light hint of his usual playfulness, so much to my own surprise, I find myself scooting over and resting my head on his chest.
His arm wraps around me, ensuring I’m wrapped snugly against his firm body, and a blanket of calmness settles over me.
“Night, Sunshine,” he murmurs.
“Night, Jack,” I whisper, my eyes falling closed as sleep was already pulling me under.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sarah
One week later
Let’s talk nipples, shall we? Mine are unique [weird] in that they overreact to everything.
A two-mile-per-hour breeze from the northeast? Nipples get hard. Air conditioning kicks on? Nipples get hard. Someone tickles me? Nipples get hard. Someone innocently massages my shoulders? Nipples get hard. The barista at the coffee shop makes my latte just right? Nipples get hard.
Okay, so I’m kidding about that last one, but you get my point. My nipples are starved for attention. They’re like the Kardashians—always trying to be prominently in sight everywhere and anywhere. I have to wear a bra with some sort of padding because, otherwise, I’ll be visibly saluting everyone from the mailman to the old lady walking her dog in the morning. I’m not exactly well-endowed, but because of my whorish nipples, I don’t ever dare to go braless.
The one semi-plus to this “affliction” is the fact guys tend to love my nipples. My nipples getting hard are interpreted as a visual pat on the back that they’re doing something right. The truth of the matter is, a guy could simply glance at my nipples, and they’d get hard.
Jack is the first guy to notice my strange nipple-isms.
“Are they always so responsive?”
He peers curiously over his coffee cup at me. After separate workouts at the gym, we are now showered and sweat-free and decided to grab some coffee on this brisk Friday morning. I’m off work, and he’s ensured the day and weekend are clear for Maggie and Ry’s wedding festivities on Saturday.
“Pretty much.” I shrug. “It’s a curse. It’s like if you”—I lean toward the table, lowering my voice—“got aroused at the slightest thing at random moments.”
“You’ve just described puberty,” he remarks dryly.
Rolling my eyes, I add, “You know what I mean. It continues well past puberty.”
“Not that I’m complaining, but I can see how that would be a pain in the ass.” He leans in closer, tipping his head to the side with a thoughtful expression. “They’re responsive on their own, but I have a question.” He glances around before lowering his voice. “Do you especially like extra attention toward them?”
Dark blue eyes watch me intently, waiting for my response. Feeling especially naughty, I smirk and whisper back, “Depends on what exactly the extra attention is.”
Reaching into the front zippered pocket of my gym bag, I withdraw one of my chocolates. Unwrapping it carefully, I read the message on the inside, take a small nibble, and am about to place the remaining piece back in the foil when Jack’s fingers snag my wrist.
“May I?” His eyes lock with mine, and when I nod, he brings my hand to his mouth; those full lips wrap around the chocolate, and the tip of his tongue barely touches my fingers. He makes it a point to place his lips on my index finger and thumb as if ensuring no remnants of chocolate are left. Releasing my hand, he leans back to chew, watching me the entire time. Once he swallows and takes a sip of his coffee, he leans his forearms on the table, eyes flashing with heated lust.
Sweet baby Moses in the river. I’m in fear of having perpetually hard nipples and soaked panties around this man. Do they have support groups for this kind of thing? I can hear myself addressing them now. “Hi, I’m Sarah. My bras have nipple imprints in them, and I could probably supply enough moisture from my panties for a good-sized greenhouse to thrive for a solid year.”
TMI? Yeah, the greenhouse thing totally pushed it overboard, I think. Sorry about that.
“Did that have any effect?” He has the audacity to ask me this. I mean, come on. He’s walking, talking sex appeal and can practically catapult me into Orgasm-ville by simply giving me one of those looks.
“Oh, I think it’s pretty safe to say it did.” I frown in faux concern. “But I have to be honest with you. I think you might need to come back to my place and, you know”—I shrug casually—“test things out to be sure.”
His eyes sparkle with mischief. “I’m always a supporter of science and research.” He tips his head toward the door. “Shall we?”
* * *
This might be the moment when we get to follow through with everything, and Jack will be able to slide all the way to home plate. To make that winning touchdown. To sink a hole-in-one.
You know things are in dire straits when I start tossing out sports analogies. But seriously. This might finally be it!
We’re tearing off each other’s clothes the second we get in the door. We decided to head to my place since it was closer by approximately two minutes per Jack’s calculations. And who am I to argue with a business consultant’s math?
We stumble against my bedroom door, the cool wood pressing against my naked back while Jack’s warm hands cup my breasts, lightly dragging the pads of his thumbs over my hardened nipples.
“Are they reacting to my touch or are they just…” His low, gravelly tone trails off as his lips fasten over my earlobe, sucking gently.
“It’s definitely your touch.” My voice is breathless and ragged.
Grasping at his broad shoulders, I feel the play of muscles as he shifts slightly, dipping his head to take one hardened
peak between his lips. He toys with my nipple, darting the tip of his tongue out and flicking it before fastening his lips around it to create a light suction. Releasing it, he moves to pay homage to the other, and my hands fist in his hair as I arch into his touch.
Abruptly, he straightens and scoops me up, depositing me onto the bed. Standing at the edge of the bed between my spread legs, he proudly displays his arousal, thick and ready for me. Adjusting my legs so my feet are flat on the mattress, his lips curve up in a smirk I won’t soon forget. It’s mischievous, sexy, intense, and heated all at once.
Lowering to crouch beside the bed, he brings his face closer to my center without breaking eye contact. His hands slide over my legs, spreading my thighs wider, and he lowers his head only to stop once his lips are barely a centimeter away.
“I want you to play with your nipples while I have my way with your pussy.” That smirk and the fact he wants me to touch myself, combined with his words, send hot arousal strumming through my body. My only option is to heed his command.
My eyes drift closed, and my head tips back against the mattress the moment his soft lips graze my opening. When the tip of his tongue darts inside to taste me, my hands and fingers move of their own accord, caressing my nipples. Jack slides two fingers inside me and hooks them, the movement causing my inner muscles to clench, anticipating his thick cock in its place.
“Jack,” I breathe out, “I need you. Please.” I’m unbothered by my begging. All I know is if I don’t get him inside me right now, I might die.
But does he listen? Noooo. Instead, he chooses to make me suffer even more. Fingers slick with my arousal, he thrusts them in and out, pushing me closer to release while he fastens his lips over my clit and sucks with just enough pressure to send me tumbling over the edge.
I ride his fingers, my hips bucking, inner muscles clenching and releasing in rapid fire, and my nipples are harder than ever. Once my tremors finally subside, my eyes open to peer down at him, watching as he slips his fingers out of me and into his mouth to suck them clean.
