The Halo Series Boxed Set

by Kimberly Knight

  “You did? I thought you were going to wait?”

  “I had to do something. I needed to tell her the truth.” I ran my hands through my wet hair.

  “I see,” Avery said with a nod, rubbing his hand over the stubble on his chin.

  “So let me have tonight, and I’ll let you have next week.”

  “You’ll just call in Bethy again.” He laughed.

  “Fuck you. You know why I did it, and you would do the same thing.”

  “All right, get out of here, but you owe me.”

  “Thank you,” I said from the hallway. I squeezed my way through all the bodies. I saw Brooke at the bar, talking to Nicole. Her hair was starting to frizz and I laughed to myself, remembering how hot it was kissing her in the rain.

  I came up behind Brooke and leaned down to her ear. “Ready?”

  She jumped slightly, and then turned to face me. “Yep.”

  She drank the rest of what looked like a vodka cranberry and then told Nicole that she would see her later. “Wait, my bag,” Brooke said, looking between Nicole and me.

  “I’m not going out there in the rain.” Nicole shook her head.

  “I’ll bring your keys back,” I said, gesturing for them.

  Nicole dug in her purse for her keys and then handed them to me. I turned and gave Avery a nod as he leaned on the bar near Nicole. The rain hadn’t let up as we ran towards my BMW. I opened the door for Brooke and didn’t care that she was soaking wet when she slid onto the leather seat. All I cared about was being with my girl—and her not thinking I was a cheating bastard.

  I ran to Nicole’s car, popped the trunk, and pulled out the green bag that Brooke told me was hers. I ran back to my car, threw her bag in the backseat and handed Brooke a sweatshirt that I’d grabbed from the back. I looked at the clock. It was past eleven. “Maybe it’s not a good idea for you to meet Cheyenne tonight.”

  “Oh …” She looked disappointed. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

  “You know, I have new sheets that need christening, too.” I smirked.

  “Oh, is that right?” She laughed, making my dick instantly hard.

  “Yeah, Cheyenne made me buy new ones after I told her about you. I didn’t realize that mine were so old.”

  “You told her about me?”

  Once the car had finally heated up some, I turned on the heater and put the car in reverse. “I did. I think she’s excited.”

  “Really?”

  I pulled in front of Halo, putting my hazard lights on as I parked in the middle of the street. I ran to the door, handing my bouncer Nicole’s keys, and told him to bring them to the feisty blonde at the bar near Avery.

  I slid back into the car and headed towards the freeway. Reaching over, I grabbed Brooke’s hand—I always wanted to touch her in some way—and proceeded to describe how I told Cheyenne about her:

  “So you want to hear about the girl I met?” I asked, taking a bite of garlic bread.

  Cheyenne and I were sitting at the dining room table, having dinner after we arrived home from softball practice.

  “I guess.” She shrugged and slurped a noodle into her mouth.

  “Well, I met her on the cruise Uncle A and I went on.”

  “So she lives in California?”

  “No, she lives in Boston.”

  “Oh … Why was she on the cruise then?”

  “Same reason Uncle A and I were.” Well, technically she wasn’t on the cruise for the same reason, but I didn’t think my ten-year-old needed to know the details.

  “Did he meet a girl too?”

  “He did.” I nodded. “She’s actually best friends with the girl I met.”

  “Oh, like me and Courtney?” she asked, continuing to slurp her noodles.

  “Exactly.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Brooke.”

  “What’s her friend’s name?”

  “Nicole.”

  “Can I tease Uncle A about having a girlfriend?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, Peanut, tease him all you want.”

  “Do girls have cooties like boys?”

  Oh Jesus Christ!

  “Um … well … shi—” I almost cussed in front of her. How do I answer this question? “Um … no?” I didn’t mean for it to be a question, but I wasn’t expecting this conversation to go in that direction.

  “I don’t think boys have cooties either. Courtney tries to tell me that they do, but I think it’s because she likes the same boy as me.”

  I dropped my fork.

  “What? You like a boy?”

  “Yep,” she said, taking a bite of bread like it was no big deal.

  “You’re ten. How can you like a boy?”

  “I don’t know, he’s cute.” She shrugged.

  “Cute? No, no, no, no, no!”

  “Daddy, calm down. We’ve only kissed once.”

  “Oh my God, I think I’m having a heart attack,” I said, clenching my chest.

  “Why? Do you kiss your girlfriend?”

  “Peanut, I’m thirty-one. You’re ten.”

  “So? When did you have your first girlfriend?”

  Lie, Easton. Lie!

  “Your mother and I started dating when I was sixteen.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, your mother has been my only girlfriend until now.”

  “Hmmm,” she sighed.

  Oh dear God, I can’t handle raising a daughter on my own anymore. Brooke was right. Cheyenne needs a mother to talk to her about this. The more she talked, the more I saw red. She had already kissed a boy! Granted, I was probably six when I first kissed a girl, but this was my little girl—my peanut.

  “Let’s go back to Brooke. Maybe she can talk to you about boys.”

  “When do I get to meet her?”

  “I’m not sure, Peanut. Maybe in a few weeks?”

  “What does she look like?”

  “Here, I have a picture.” I showed her a picture that we had taken on the cruise. We had just gotten out of the pool and Brooke was in her bikini on my left, my arm draped over her shoulder. Hers was behind Nicole’s back and Nicole was clenched to Avery’s waist.

  “She’s pretty.”

  I smiled. “She is.”

  “So, can you talk to her about boys?” I asked Brooke.

  “I can try, but I’m kinda nervous.”

  “Why are you nervous?”

  “What if she doesn’t like me?”

  “She will, I promise. I told her all about you and how you played softball. Right now, anyone that can help her with softball is a hero to her.”

  “I can’t help now with my stupid tumor.”

  “Baby, she’s ten. You have her whole life to help make her an all-star.”

  We started to drive out of the city to my house. Somehow, God was looking over me because I’d washed my sheets today. I would have been mortified if Brooke had to smell my stinky man sheets—even if they were new.

  “I like when you say stuff like that.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek.

  “Say what?”

  “Talk about us and the future.”

  “Oh, well, there’s definitely an us and a future,” I said, kissing the back of her hand.

  “Good.” I saw her smile glow with the light from the passing streetlights.

  “So, if Avery asks, we went by my parents and all the lights were off, okay?”

  “Why is that?”

  “I talked him into letting me go because I wanted you to meet Cheyenne to prove that I love you.”

  “I believe you love me.”

  “You know what I mean. Cheyenne is the final puzzle piece.”

  “That’s true, but don’t you own the bar with him?”

  “Yeah, but it’s Friday and busy. Kinda putting him out with me gone. Plus, he wanted to leave too since Nicole is there.”

  “Shit, now I feel bad.”

  “Don’t feel bad. He can handle it. It will give him a push to hire more barten
ders for the weekends so we can spend them with you and Nicole.”

  “I thought you worked the weekends to make more money for Cheyenne?”

  “I do. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Okay. Well, Nicole would kill me if she knew, so your secret is safe with me.”

  “Good.” I kissed the back of her hand again.

  I was nervous as Easton pulled his car into his garage. Why was I nervous? I followed him up two steps from his garage and into his kitchen.

  “Geez, no wonder you have to work weekends,” I said, looking around in awe. Dark cherry hardwood floors were throughout with white cabinets and white marble countertops. There was light green tile backsplash along the walls under the cabinets that led to a stainless steel gas stove with two ovens.

  “When Dana died, I got money from her life insurance.”

  “I thought you were getting divorced, though?”

  “We were, but she never changed the policy, and we were technically still married.”

  “It’s beautiful.” I could picture myself living in a house with that kitchen. It was breathtaking. “No wonder you like to cook.” I gave him a smile.

  “Like isn’t the word I would use. I have to cook because of Cheyenne.”

  “Well, I would love to cook in here,” I said, still looking around the room and running my hand along the marble.

  “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”

  “I am. Nicole and I came straight here. We were going to stop for food, but with the storm, we didn’t want to chance it.”

  “I know just the dish to make us,” he said with a wink. “Let me throw some bacon into the oven and then we can shower and get into dry clothes.”

  “We?” I asked, biting my lower lip.

  “Yeah, to save water, of course.” He smirked.

  “Of course.” I laughed. Easton was always making me laugh. It was refreshing being in a happy relationship.

  I grabbed my bag that Easton brought in and followed him to his bedroom. I tried peeking in the dark rooms but didn’t see anything other than his living room. It was just as nice as the kitchen. The hardwood floors continued throughout, and a brown suede sectional faced a massive size flat screen TV, which hung over built-in bookshelves that were painted white like the kitchen cabinets.

  Easton turned on his light in the bedroom.

  “Zebra print, huh?” I said, motioning to a small ottoman between two grey chairs at the end of his king-size bed.

  “Yeah, I hired a decorator.” He laughed.

  “Oh, well that explains it all,” I teased.

  His home put my tiny one-bedroom apartment to shame. Mine was so bland with white walls, beige carpet, beige linoleum, light oak cabinets and white countertops. I had no clue what they were made of, but it wasn’t marble or even granite.

  And Jesus, his master bath …

  A large walk-in shower with a glass door sat adjacent to a large Jacuzzi style tub. The cabinets were a dark cherry wood, and the countertops had his and her sinks with a darker shade of slab than the ones in the kitchen.

  “Damn, I bet the girls never want to leave this bathroom,” I said, placing my PJs on the counter.

  “What girls?”

  “The girls you bring home from the bar.”

  “I’ve never brought any girls here—until you.” He turned on the shower. “Let me go put the bacon in the oven. It should be almost pre-heated. Go ahead and get in. I’ll be back in a minute.” He lightly kissed my lips.

  I piled my damp clothes in the corner and stepped into the shower. The warm water was perfect after the cold rain. I thought about Easton’s confession that he’d never brought a girl home before. It made sense because of Cheyenne and because of his crazy hours at the bar. Knowing that I was here gave me those butterfly feelings again. I felt special—loved.

  I heard Easton enter the bathroom a few minutes later and I turned to face him.

  He started to undress, stripping off his wet clothes like I had. I would never tire of seeing his perfect body. Each part was chiseled just right. His chest was smooth, his pecs firm, his biceps were hard as rocks, and he had an eight-pack that I wanted to lick every time I saw him shirtless. The eight-pack led to the perfect V that connected to his magic stick that worked wonders.

  He slipped into the shower against my back and began running his hands along my sides. “We have thirty minutes.”

  “Then we better hurry,” I said.

  He pushed my hair to one side and began kissing the side of my neck as his hand slipped between my legs and began massaging my clit. I moaned at the contact. It had been five days since I’d felt his touch, and my body instantly recognized it. My fingers didn’t do his justice.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered in my ear.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” I said, spreading my legs a little farther.

  His left hand cupped my breast, lightly kneading it in his hand then lightly pinching my nipple. My head fell forward on my arm that was bracing my body to stay upright against the wall. He slipped a finger in while still massaging my clit, my pussy stretching a little to allow his finger to go as deep as it could.

  “I’ve missed your pussy.”

  “It’s missed you, too,” I said, trying to laugh, but a moan escaped as he pressed harder on my clit.

  He smiled against my neck and then ran his tongue along the slope, moving to the back of my neck and down my spine then back up. My pulse quickened, my heart beating fast with an orgasm on the brink of exploding inside me.

  He withdrew his finger and added it with the one rubbing my clit. Each finger added an extra bonus—like long strokes that one alone couldn’t do. His tongue went back down my spine all the way to the tip of my crack.

  His fingers worked in a fluid motion, gliding against the water of the shower and the slickness of my juices. His tongue ran down my right butt cheek and my stomach clenched as an orgasm hit me. I knew I wouldn’t last. Just seeing him naked was all I needed for my undoing, but the added bonus of his fingers made me cum hard.

  He stood and I turned in his arms, the water beating down on my back. Taking my mouth, our tongues tasting each other, Easton grabbed my face and kissed me hard as he stepped closer, our bodies flush.

  I could feel his hard cock on my belly, wanting attention. My right hand began pumping him, using the water as lubricant, and he groaned against my lips.

  “I could get used to this,” he said, not taking his lips off mine.

  “Me, too,” I agreed.

  He placed his hands on each cheek and tugged me closer. Grabbing my right leg, he hooked it around his hip and stepped back just enough to tease my folds with the tip of his cock. My nipples were hard, rubbing against his chest as my arms circled around his neck for support. He slid his cock slowly into me, my pussy gripping his cock like a glove.

  His mouth covered mine when he was fully in, thrusting his hips and rocking my core. He held my leg, balancing me as he pumped. He kissed me like he loved me: slow, passionate, hot. My hands went to their place—where they felt comfortable—in his hair at his nape.

  He groaned, breaking our kiss and bent his head down to taste my neck again—a place where I’d come to learned he liked to taste. He rolled his hips, bracing himself against the wall and thrust harder into me, my foot lifting off the bottom of the shower.

  “See what happens when I have to wait a week?”

  I couldn’t speak. Each time we had made love, it was gentle. This was gentle—but more. I couldn’t stand, my toes lightly trying to press into the tiles below my feet, but with each thrust, I slid up the wall.

  I slid up and down, the water gliding my body, Easton’s cock buried deep inside me. His kisses turned hungry as he continued to rock his hips; he was close. He squeezed my breast with his free hand, pinching my nipple just a little. I moaned loud, it was so intense—so fast—so needed.

  It was like we were made for each other. My core trembled, clenching around him as he glided
in and out. My insides tightened again, I was close. I knew he could feel it, too. He pulled back, our lips parting, and he looked me in the eye as I came around him, squeezing him as my body convulsed.

  After a few more hard strokes, he came, too.

  When we stepped out of the bathroom door, I smelled bacon. Easton hurried to make sure the bacon wasn’t burnt. Thankfully, it was perfect.

  I offered to help him cook but was told to sit at the breakfast bar and relax because he was making his specialty—chicken carbonara.

  Everything was delicious. I knew why it was his specialty, and I liked that he used bacon instead of pancetta. He poured me a glass of white wine and we talked. Even though I was on narcotics, I still had the occasional glass of wine—it helped the pain as well. I wanted to tell him how scared I was about my tumor, but I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want him to worry about me. The less I showed anyone how scared I was, the better. Once I started to freak out, so would everyone else.

  I told Easton about the biopsy results and he was just as confused as I was. How could a doctor not get enough sample? Especially one that specialized in biopsies? He tried to lighten the mood by telling me that it was probably some sort of mass that was actually a superpower. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  After we’d eaten, we crawled into bed with our bellies full. I knew I shouldn’t go to bed until the pasta digested, but I was beat. It was past one in the morning and Easton had Cheyenne’s softball game at ten, plus we had to be at his parents for breakfast.

  He wrapped me in his arms and I tried falling asleep, but my mind was racing. I couldn’t stop thinking about meeting his parents and his daughter in just a few hours. I thought about what I was going to wear and if I’d packed anything worth meeting his parents in. I thought about my sailor’s mouth and gave myself a pep talk to not cuss as much when I saw them—if at all. I thought about Cheyenne hating me and, as Easton started to snore slightly, I thought about spending the rest of my life with the man curled behind me.

  When my alarm went off, I was curled around Brooke’s back—the same way I fell asleep. I didn’t want to get out of bed. She was warm, soft, and my dick was so hard. I wanted to pin her down and make her moan over and over in my ear—but we didn’t have time.