by Nicole Dykes
“I know, but sitting around isn’t playing.” I sit up, bracing my weight on one arm and don’t miss his eyes roaming over my body. I really hate wearing clothes to bed, but for him I do it. Still, pretty much everything I have is sexy, and tonight I'm wearing a black lacy cami and shorts. Even though I'm worried about Bree, I can’t deny his gaze makes me hot. “Gillian can’t do anything?”
“It’s not her case. Or even her city. I can’t have her getting in trouble for me. She’s already sticking her neck out.” He looks twitchy and uncomfortable as he sits up. The blanket drops to his waist, and I shamelessly let my eyes drift over his ripped muscles cultivated from hours in the gym.
I don’t even care that I'm flat-out gawking. I’m stressed, and although I usually use sex to help calm me down, the hard edge in the look on his face tells me he’s not in the mood.
“I need to look into a private school for her.”
That catches me off guard. “What? Why would you do that?” She likes her school from what I've gathered.
He shrugs, his large shoulders lifting in indifference, but I can tell he feels anything but that. “She deserves to have good shit. Fancy.”
I know I can’t touch him, but I see the struggle in him. That fucking social worker really got to him. I fling the covers completely off my body and walk across the room to sit on the end of his chair. “No. She doesn’t. Have you met the girl?”
He’s too serious as he looks at me. “I have. She’s a good kid who had a shitty start. I don’t want to rob her of having good things, Blair.”
“She doesn’t need a fancy school or clothes to have it good. I grew up that way.”
His brow furrows, and I think it’s cute that he’s trying to focus on this subject and not on my chest. “And now you live here.” He gestures around the massive bedroom. “And you drive a Mercedes. I grew up in a public school system and struggle to keep my head above water.”
It pains me that he seems to value his worth at so little. “You own your own business.”
His eyes meet mine with a sadness that sends a dagger through my heart, and then he shakes it off. “I don’t like the way the boys look at her at that school.”
I can’t help it. I laugh at him. I cover my mouth and try to stop it, but I can’t. “Aw, you’re in full-on dad mode now.”
“Shut up.” He tosses a pillow at me, and I laugh, catching it and holding it to my body.
“Private school boys will be looking at her too. They’re all the same. Rich boys may be even worse.” The ones I’ve met like to collect women as possessions, and I shudder to think of Bree meeting any men like that.
“I don’t want her to feel robbed.”
God, I want to touch him. I want to lay on that broad chest and listen to his heartbeat like some pathetic woman fascinated by a man. Which repulses me, but also excites me.
I wish he would let me touch him.
“Rhys?” He’s lost in thought, looking out the window, but he looks back at me.
“What?”
I bite my bottom lip, watching him with need. I’ve never had to really make the first move before. It’s just always been offered, but with Rhys, the fucker makes me work for it.
So, I usually just go the overly horny route, shielding my heart by using over-the-top antics that should humiliate me. I let his pillow drop to the floor and let my palms rest on both sides of his ankles, bunching my tits together. “I’m stressed the fuck out.”
“You look fine.” It’s flippant and annoying, trying to shoo me away.
I just lean into it. “I’m horny.”
He leans his head back against the chair. “You’re always horny.”
“As are most fucking dudes.” I fling one hand in irritation that he doesn’t want me nearly as bad as I want him. I try to soften my approach, knowing he clearly has intimacy issues. “You know your dick works with me.”
We’ve proven that many times. As long as I don’t look into his eyes or touch him, we’re good.
“Blair, I’m tired.”
And it’s not from lack of sleep. That’s not the type of tired he is, and it’s evident from his voice.
I wish he would just let me touch him. Let me make him feel better. Fuck, I would even settle for just spooning with his grumpy ass.
And I’ve never wanted to do that before.
“Too tired to fuck?” I want to crawl up his body, but I don’t. I do, however, lift my top off and toss it to the floor behind me, leaving my chest bare for him. “I’ll do all the work.”
“Why?”
Seriously? I’m half naked and begging to fuck him, and he’s asking me why? Jesus Christ, why can’t I like an easy guy? There are a ton of them. But nooooo . . . Blair wants the complicated, big, moody motherfucker.
“Why what?”
“Why are you so fucking willing to please me? To do everything I want you to. My way.”
“Have you met me? I don’t cater to anyone.”
He leans his body forward, but he’s still too far away. “You do for me.”
“And that’s why you deny me? Because I’m too fucking easy?”
He looks at my chest, unable to stop himself now that my breasts are out on display, but then drags his gaze back up to my face. “Is that tonight’s question?”
I fold my arms over my ample chest, feeling vulnerable and agitated by the pending answer already, not even knowing what it is. “Yes.”
He huffs and scoots so his body is only a few inches from mine. I can feel his heat, and I crave his touch as much as I want to touch him. “I think you’re better than this. I think you have a tough exterior, but inside is a little girl who just wants to please and who thinks using her body is the only way to get male attention.”
My eyes widen as I look him in the eyes no matter how much his words sting. “Fuck you. There’s nothing wrong with a woman liking sex.”
“No there’s not. But think back, Blair. To every guy you’ve ever fucked.” I swallow and brace myself. “Did you really want them? Every one of them? Or were you trying to replace something you weren’t getting? Trying to get daddy’s attention? Trying to get men’s attention? Logan’s?”
“You think that’s what I'm doing with you?”
He doesn’t move. Only holds my gaze. “I don’t know. But can you tell me that all of that was for you?”
No. I’m the spoiled little rich girl acting out, trying desperately to get her father’s attention when he couldn’t give a fuck about me. He never could. And no matter how much I’ve acted out, he still doesn’t care. “Orgasms are orgasms.”
“So, they all made you come?”
Not even close.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before lifting his lids slowly and using his hand to sweep across my cheek. His touch is gentle, and my heart squeezes tightly in my chest from the contact I crave. “You deserve better than letting me use you like a sex doll. You deserve someone who can touch you and hold you.”
He’s never been this open and honest with me. This sweet. I don’t really know how to handle it as he drops his hand to his lap.
“You can touch me all you want.”
He swallows, and I know he can’t. He definitely can’t let me reciprocate, and I have no idea why.
He dips down and hands my top to me, his eyes scanning over my face and my chest, but he looks tortured. “I think I need to buy you some real fucking pajamas.”
I shove the lacey camisole over my head and glare at him. “These are pajamas. For grownups. That. Fuck. And like to fuck.”
He’s not thrown off by my bratty behavior. He knew I would throw a fit.
“If I didn’t want you to touch me, I wouldn’t ask for it, Rhys. I’m a grown woman. Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want. You didn’t have any problem fucking me in the country club bathroom not that long ago.”
He leans close again, the scent of him wafting toward me. “You want that forever, Blair? You want to face away from me,
palms against the wall while I slam into you, trying my best not to touch you too much because I’m too afraid of freaking out or losing my erection when memories slam into me harder than I’m slamming into you? You want that for what? A month? A year? How long until you get sick of being used that way?”
He’s furious and scared. I see the deep, deep scars under the surface, and he only gets more pissed as he climbs off the chair. I don’t know what to say.
But it doesn’t matter because he leaves my room before I can come up with anything.
And I’m vile because all I want is for him to come back regardless of what we do, I just want him near.
I’m losing my fucking mind. Not that I ever really had control of it. Blair is still pissy after the other night, and I don’t fucking blame her.
Why I can’t just throw her down on the bed and fuck her is beyond me. I mean, I know why.
Fuck, I'm losing it.
Not to mention every day that goes by, I'm just more and more worried about Herrington trying to adopt Bree.
Bree and Blair are sitting on the couch, hanging out when I come home from work. It all seems so fucking normal.
Which is bizarre. Blair is glaring daggers at me, and I get it. I nod a hello to Bree who gives me a quick wave as I hear my phone in my pocket.
I pull it out and see Sean’s name and almost smile. I haven’t talked to him in weeks. I hit answer as I start up the stairs. “You’re allowed to call?”
He just laughs in that easy Sean way I hate to admit I fucking miss. “Fuck you, asshole. These phones work both ways.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I walk into Blair’s bedroom and take a seat on my chair. “What’s up?”
“Really? You aren’t going to tell me?”
Well, fuck. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. You’re a foster parent now? And with Blair, the she-demon herself, no less.”
I lean back with a groan. “How the fuck do you know that?”
I can hear his eye roll over the phone. “You called Gillian. She, of course called Logan, who told Quinn, who told my fucking wife. But the real question is why the fuck you didn’t call me first so I could tell you that was a terrible fucking idea.”
That’s exactly why I didn’t call him. “Well, now you know.”
“No. Don’t do that short-sentence Rhys bullshit with me.” Motherfucker, sometimes I hate my best friend. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking the kid needed my help. She begged me to help her. What the fuck was I supposed to do, Sean?”
He’s quiet for a minute. “Needed your help why?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t really asked her, but she was afraid of her foster dad, and you and I both know what that’s like.”
“This can’t be good for you, Rhys.”
He knows most of my dark secrets, and I know he felt responsible for keeping me sober all those years. And when I wasn’t sober, he cleaned me up. Every fucking time. No matter if I was getting into fights or laying in my own puke. He was there. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “Taking in an abused foster kid? This has to be bringing up memories for you.”
My hand clenches around the phone, and my stomach roils. “I’m going to meetings.”
“You been talking?”
Fucker. “I’ve been going.”
“Rhys . . . ”He’s careful with his words. “I’m all for you helping out a kid like us. But goddammit, if you let this wreck you, I swear I'll fly down there and kick your ass.”
“You can try, you scrawny motherfucker.”
He laughs. “Scrawny hell. I’ll whip your big ass.”
“She needs my help.” I sound weak, and I know he can hear it. My appetite has been next to nothing since I took her in, the nightmares have increased, and I’ve spent a lot of time at the gym. But I need her in my life. I need to help her.
Nothing is going to change that.
“Just keep going to your fucking meetings.”
I just went last week, but I may need to increase my frequency even if I don’t really believe in them. “I will.”
“If you feel yourself drowning, call someone in to pull you out. You hear me?”
“I do.”
He doesn’t believe me, but he knows me well enough to know I'm not backing down. “Okay. I’ll be in touch.”
We hang up, and I hear Blair at the door seconds before she walks in and sits down next to me on the chair. “Sean?”
“Eavesdropping?”
She lifts her shoulder. “No, I was just texting with Mel. She’s upset that I didn’t tell her about Bree.”
That is surprising. I’m pretty sure they tell each other everything.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want her to talk me out of it.” One thing about Blair, she’s always honest.
“Yeah. I get that.”
“Question time?” Her eyebrow lifts as she watches me with curiosity, and I'm worried about the question.
“I guess.”
“If Gillian told them about Bree, does that mean she’s worried about the investigation?”
I should be relieved she’s not asking about my past, but the question only causes pain in my gut.
“Yeah. I think so.”
She looks as defeated as I feel, which I don’t like seeing. I want her tough and angry, ready to fight.
“We can’t lose her, Rhys.” Her eyes lock on mine. “I’ll do anything to keep her.”
“I know.” I want to tease her about falling for the kid, but this isn’t funny. I don’t want to lose Bree either. I really don’t want to hand her over to that motherfucker.
I’ll die before I allow that to happen.
We’re both completely stressed, and it appears Gillian is feeling the same way. She drove in today for a meeting with us and Ms. Winters, who I still want to tit punch.
Her steely eyes haven’t left Rhys since we sat down, and we both know that them calling this meeting isn’t a good thing.
“What’s going on?” Rhys asks the question that’s on the tip of my tongue.
Ms. Winters, the cold bitch, is the one all too happy to answer. “The investigation into Mr. Herrington has been completed.”
What’s it been? A month? Seems they don’t have any problem moving their asses when money is involved. I watch the news. I know how backed up social services is. One month to conclude what? “And?” I ask, my voice far too nervous sounding.
“And nothing. The investigation revealed nothing other than two loving parents who wanted to add to their family.”
“And what Bree said holds no weight?” I see the tension in Rhys’s jaw, and I know he’s close to snapping.
“Of course, it does.” Gillian’s sweet voice is a contrast to Morgan’s. “All this means is he’s been cleared of any wrongdoing.”
“And he can file for adoption now?” I ask, my stomach in knots. I don’t want to lose her.
“Yes.” She nods her head slowly, sweeping her blond hair behind her ear, and I can tell she’s anxious about this as well.
“Why wouldn’t he?” Ms. Winter’s has my attention as my head swivels to look at her with the disdain I feel. “They would be good for that child. And there really isn’t anything you can do about this.”
Rhys’s eyes meet Gillian’s, and she looks sympathetic. “That’s not necessarily true.”
Morgan gives her a dirty look, but I feel hopeful as I look to Gillian. “What can we do?”
“Nothing. You can and should do nothing.” Ms. Winters is getting all worked up now, but I couldn't give a shit.
“I was asking Gillian,” I say, a bitchy edge to my voice, and again, I don’t care.
Gillian clears her throat and looks between me and Rhys. “You have the advantage. You can file for adoption too.”
Ms. Winters looks absolutely horrified, and it makes me smile as Rhys shifts in his chair, looking far more beaten down than I
would like. “Adopt her?”
Gillian nods, her head tilted slightly to the side. I know she has a soft spot for Rhys even if they barely know each other. She’s Logan’s stepmother after all. “Yes. Adopt her.”
“That’s absurd and completely unorthodox.”
Gillian looks at her colleague who, according to Rhys, she thought she could trust. “I realize that this is your case, but if you aren’t going to supply them with all of the necessary information, I'm happy to take over. I’m sure Marion would be fine with that.”
I have no idea who Marion is, but if I had to guess, it’s their boss. She huffs and stands up. “Fine. I have other work to do but know I will be in any hearing involving Aubrey.”
Rhys snarls at her, but to his credit, he’s quiet as she exits.
And finally, it’s just Gillian and us. Gillian has a far more calming presence. “Okay you guys, I’m not going to lie to you. This won’t be a cakewalk. The Herringtons have a lot of money and pull in the community.”
I see Rhys’s face turn pale, and I resist rubbing his back or touching his thigh as I face Gillian head-on. “We can file to adopt her though?”
“Yes. You can. She’s in your care right now, which leaves you at a certain advantage, along with the fact that she likes you guys, I'm assuming.”
I smile and Rhys just grunts. “As much as she can.”
I roll my eyes. “She loves us.”
Gillian smiles. “Okay. Good. That’s very good. She’s eleven, almost twelve, so the judge should take her opinion into consideration.”
Rhys’s spine is eerily straight. “But they might not.”
Gillian sighs. “They might not. Look, a hearing, no matter how much money is involved, is at least three months away. I can’t imagine they could rush it any more than that. That gives you guys time.”
“For?” I know Rhys feels defeated but my question arises from the hopeful feeling inside me.
“To look as good on paper as you possibly can.”
Rhys snorts. “Well, I'm fucked.”
I give him a look, annoyed with his defeated attitude, and Gillian just shakes her head. “No. You’re not. You own your own business.”
