Working Back

by BJ Harvey

  “Okay. I’ll just be here. Reading,” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice.

  “What are you reading?” I ask, opening a drawer and pulling out a clean pair of boxer shorts. I turn to look over my shoulder at her. “Is it dirty?” I ask, waggling my eyebrows, not missing her eyes on my ass.

  She giggles, and her cheeks turn red. “Oh yeah, definitely dirty.”

  I grin. “Maybe you can tell me all about it when I come to bed. We can call it Dirty Bedtime Stories with Faith.”

  She grabs a pillow and throws it my way as I walk from the bedroom into the bathroom, closing the door but not shutting it.

  Ten minutes later, I catch a sliver of light coming through the door when I’m relieving the pressure of having Faith near me, laughing with me, looking at me when she doesn’t think I can see her. Knowing she’s watching me now turns me on even more, my cock throbbing in my hand as I fist myself up and down in long, tight strokes. My climax rams into me like a freight train at full speed, and I don’t even try to stop Faith’s name escaping my lips in a deep, guttural groan.

  Once my post-orgasm haze has cleared, she’s gone, and the door is closed again.

  I can’t wipe the smile off my face as I step out of the shower and dry myself off, slipping on my boxers. The smile’s still there even after I brush my teeth.

  I wanted to take this slow, but every single sign I’m getting from Faith is that she wants this as much as I do.

  Lucky for me, that makes my job a heck of a lot easier. Lucky for her, she’s going to be getting more of my A-game while I get us back to where we’re supposed to be.

  The one thing now running through my head is what Abi said in the hospital.

  Maybe she needed to go away in order to come back to you as the person she always wanted to be.

  I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror, my hands braced on the vanity. I wonder why I never realized it before. Maybe Abi’s right. If that’s the case, then it’s time to let Faith be Faith and show her how good we can be now that we’re older and wiser.

  It’s time to stop focusing on the past and time to look forward to the future.

  Step one—operation get rid of the damn exclusion zone.

  Faith

  It took every single ounce of control in my body not to slam open that bathroom door and join Bryant in the shower. After getting me all pent up the night before with wedding cake of all things, I was the very definition of being on the edge. Patience and self-restraint be damned. I loved seeing that man naked, water streaming down on his skin, his big hand fisting his cock, his arm braced on the shower wall as he stroked and squeezed, moaned and groaned, and grunted out his climax with my name escaping his lips.

  What kind of woman could resist a scene like that? I almost snuck away to one of the empty rooms in the house so I could shove my hand down my underwear and quell the ache that has been stoked and fed since I kissed Bryant.

  When he comes to bed, his hair still damp, heat radiating off his shirtless body, I have to bite my lip and turn my head away. When he slides under the covers, lies flat on his back, reaches his arm underneath my pillow and hauls my body back against his, I wonder why I didn’t move closer of my own volition.

  Then I stop overthinking and just follow my gut, rolling over to face him and burrowing my face in his neck. I take my fill of his body heat, that freshly showered, clean smell that I’ve always wanted to bottle for future use. For those non-creepy times when I miss him and just need a hit of Bryant in the middle of the day.

  Maybe that’s just the sexually frustrated, forcing-myself-into-repression Faith talking. I probably wouldn’t be rubbing my cheek against his neck like a cat in heat if it hadn’t been a week since my last orgasm.

  “You okay there?” he asks, a deep rumbling chuckle vibrating through his chest.

  “You’re warm, and you smell good.”

  His other arm curls around me, pulling me closer, and I marvel at his quick recovery time, given it was just ten minutes since his self-help shower. He always did have the ability to ‘bounce back’ quickly, so it’s good to know he hasn’t lost that over the years.

  I sniff rather obviously, breathing him in and telling myself I’ll pull away in just a few more moments.

  “You do know I can hear you smelling me, right?”

  I shrug and try to move away, but his hold tightens. I jerk my head back onto my pillow, my body still wedged tightly against his. “Bry, what are you—?”

  He dips his chin and locks eyes with mine, his lips twitching. “If you wanna smell me, have at it. It’s not exactly a hardship having you pressed against me if you can’t tell.”

  “‘Hard’ being the operative word?” I say, arching a brow.

  My hands slip to his shoulders as they shrug against the bed. “I’m a man lying in bed next to his half-naked wife whose body is even better than it was twelve years ago, and it was fucking fantastic then. My dick has an opinion on that, and it’s simply making its appreciation clear.”

  “Very clear,” I say with a giggle, my heart and other body parts warming at his compliment. “I can move away, Bry. I mean, so you can get some sleep.”

  He leans in so his cheek is resting on my pillow, his nose touching mine, his lips not that far off doing the same. “I can sleep with a hard-on, babycakes. You forget the self-control I had to learn before we left for college. That hasn’t gone away just because my ring is finally on your finger and we’re grown adults who can do whatever we want to each other, whenever we like.”

  I open my mouth, but he touches his lips to mine, silencing me.

  “At a mutually agreeable time. So turn around or don’t; snuggle into me or don’t. But I will be touching you somehow because I like the feel of you, and I like being close to you, and I’m ever hopeful that we’re on the path to showing that to each other in grown adult ways. Until then, I’m going to touch, feel and kiss you every chance I get unless you say otherwise. Okay?” he murmurs against my lips, his tongue touching the tip of mine before pulling back.

  “Okay, hubby.”

  I feel his mouth smile against mine and then and there, I decide it’s my new mission to feel that every day.

  Six days later, we’re still sleeping that way. It’s so damn nice. I hadn’t realized before now that I’ve never woken up feeling so well-rested and happy. This past week, I’ve had a smile on my face every morning. It’s slowly sinking in that the piece of myself I’ve been searching for might be within my grasp.

  And if he keeps bringing me coffee in bed and kissing the crap out of me every morning, then I might just have to start showing him how grateful I am in other more enjoyable ways for both of us.

  Now, though, I’m amping myself up to kick some Cook brother ass at the driving range.

  I’m getting ready in the bathroom when Bryant appears in the doorway behind me. His eyes are full of appreciation as he looks me up and down before meeting my gaze in the mirror.

  “You ready to go?” he asks, his voice rough and all kinds of delicious. It’s how he sounded groaning my name with his cock in his hand. Also known as my favorite sound in the world.

  “Yeah. It’s time the Cooks’ stranglehold on the tightly contested driving range championship of Chicago finally comes to an end,” I say with a smirk, earning me narrowed eyes and twitching lips. Another favorite look on him. I turn around to face him. “I’ll just grab my keys and we can—”

  My words get stuck in my throat when I see he’s holding a motorcycle jacket in one hand, and a helmet in the other.

  “Ah… Betsy isn’t that scary.”

  “Depends who’s behind the wheel.”

  I gasp at his insinuation, popping a hip and glaring at him, pointing my finger at him for good measure. “Excuse me, mister. You drove her this morning, and I was holding on for dear life.”

  He doesn’t answer; he just looks at the ground and chuckles, shaking his head at me. “I thought we’d ride in since it’s a nice night.”


  I open my mouth to argue but then I remember that riding on a motorcycle means plastering my body to Bryant’s back, holding on tight. I’ve never ridden before, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to turn down this opportunity.

  His eyes are full of amusement as he steps forward and cages me in against the vanity, dipping his face close to mine. “I like seeing that smile on your face. It’s the same one you get when you’re reading a particularly dirty part in one of your books.” My mouth drops open, but again, I’ve lost the ability to speak. “I can also see how excited you are.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, part subterfuge, part self-preservation. “How?”

  “You’re almost vibrating. If I weren’t seeing it for myself, I’d swear you were bouncing up and down.”

  “Thirty-four-year-old women don’t bounce with excitement.”

  His eyes flare with heat, dipping to my chest and back again. “I’d pay to see it if they did.”

  I gasp and give him a playful whack on the arm as he straightens and steps back.

  “What? I’m a guy; you’ve got boobs. Bouncing boobs are something any guy likes to see.”

  “Maybe, if you’re sixteen,” I mutter, subconsciously crossing my arms over said chest. He notes the move and chuckles again before turning to leave.

  “Wait! I don’t have any gear or whatever,” I say, waving my hand in the air.

  “All taken care of, babycakes. All I need is your sweet ass out the front, ready to jump on.”

  “What am I riding?” I ask, unable to help myself.

  He stumbles but quickly recovers and looks over his shoulder with a salacious smile. “It’s big and hard and full of power. That’s all you need to know.” He winks and starts to walk out of the room, my gaze locked on his ass, and the low-slung jeans clinging to his hips. It’s still one of his best—and my favorite—assets.

  “You do know you’re more like Jax than you realize,” I say, which just makes him laugh again.

  “Hurry up, Baker. I’m feeling rather confident tonight,” he calls out.

  “The Cooks are going down!” I yell before I can think better of it.

  Moments later, his head pops out of the doorway, a wicked smirk and his one dimple out in full effect. “That can be arranged. You name the bet, and I’m sure I’ll rise to the challenge.”

  Then he’s gone, and I’m left standing there, warring between chasing him down and jumping him, and having a cold shower.

  Bryant has always been flirtatious, but it seems future Bryant now has an even dirtier mind and the ability to appeal to my very active imagination.

  A bet could definitely make tonight a lot more interesting, I take one last look in the mirror and smooth my hair before spinning around and making my way out to wait for my ride.

  The question now is who will end up going down at the end of the night?

  We don’t get more than a few steps in the door of the driving range before my name is shouted out across the large lower floor of the building.

  Taking me by surprise, the owner, Gabe, scoops me up in his arms and swings me around. “Faith Baker, as I live and breathe.”

  I giggle as he lowers me back to the ground and Bry claims me again, pulling me into his side. Gabe’s eyes widen as he takes the scene in. “And this? That’s a new development…”

  “Or an old one,” Bry muses. “And it’s Faith Cook now.”

  Gabe’s head jerks back. “Wow. Now that is good news,” he says, meeting Bry’s gaze with approval. “When did this all happen?”

  “It’s been a month,” I say. Bryant’s hand on my hip flexes.

  “Time flies when you’re having fun,” Gabe muses.

  “Or something.” I tilt my head to look at my husband, melting a little inside when he winks.

  “Well, I’ll let you two go. Everyone else is upstairs already,” he says with a grin.

  “It’s good to see you, Faith,” Gabe says with a soft smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I won’t. Besides, there are a lot of Cook asses to whip,” I say. Both men chuckle at that.

  Gabe shakes his head. “Still a firecracker then?”

  “Only when it comes to golf and men,” I say with a knowing grin. “Otherwise I’m a sweetheart.”

  “You’re one of a kind, Faith Bak—Cook. You keep this one, Bry.”

  “Kind of why she’s got my ring on her finger, Gabe.”

  My stomach flips, and I feel all gooey inside. Stop being such a girl, Faith.

  “See ya later,” Gabe says, giving us a short wave before walking back behind the counter.

  With my hand in his, Bry leads me up the stairs to the upper deck, and it’s hard to miss the big group of our friends and family one side.

  “Hey,” April says, pulling me in for a big hug when we reach them. Ronnie grins at me from her perch beside Jax when April moves back. Then it’s Jamie’s turn, and finally, Cohen.

  “Hey, Bakes,” he says, grumbling as Bry tries to claim me when Co holds me for too long.

  I shrug Bry off and wrap an arm around Cohen’s waist. “Hey, Co,” I say, laughing as the youngest Cook smirks at my husband.

  When I blow Bry a kiss, he shakes his head and walks over to where the others are standing in a circle.

  “How’s work?” I ask Cohen.

  “Not as exciting as working with wild animals.”

  I sigh. “I study wild animals; there’s a slight difference there.”

  “Yeah, true. Maybe it’s me that’s works with people who act like wild animals,” he says with a grin.

  “That’s probably more accurate.”

  “How’s Skye?” I ask in an over-the-top girly voice.

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “So not going there with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re almost as big of a gossip as me, Faith Marie Cook.”

  I hold my hand to my chest. “Cohen Patrick Cook, you did not just full-name me.”

  “Sure as fuck did.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Skye is lovely. She seemed really nice.”

  Cohen frowns. “Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking, Faith.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” I ask because he’s right, I am a gossip.

  His head jerks back. “What do you mean? We’re just partners.”

  I arch a brow and spear him with a ‘don’t bullshit a bullshitter’ look. “Lurvvve partners.”

  He rolls his eyes and looks over my shoulder, a suspicious smirk replacing his scowl. “By the way, Mom asked me to pass on a message. She said next Sunday will be fine and she’ll talk to Patricia.”

  “Do I even want to know what you’re planning with my mother?” Bryant asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “And yours?”

  “It’s nothing,” I say a little too quickly, making it sound more than it really is.

  “It must be something if the moms are involved,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the apex of my neck and shoulder.

  “Time’s up, lovebirds,” Ez says, pulling me away from Bry. “You’re not a Cook today. You’re a Baker, and we’re gonna annihilate them.”

  I laugh, looking over my shoulder at my smirking husband. Husband. Will I ever get used to that?

  Bryant feigns a yawn, making a show of it as he turns to the others. “I’d say we should do guys versus girls”—his smile widens—“with Ez being an honorary girl since Delilah can’t come.”

  “That’s okay,” Ez replies with a shrug. “Just means I’ll have all your balls in my handbag by the end of the night like your wives do.”

  Everyone laughs. Jamie quirks a brow at his best friend. “And when we win, Ezra can buy dinner.”

  Ez nods, grinning as he wraps his arms around Ronnie and April’s shoulders when they reach us. “C’mon, girls. Let’s show them who’s boss.”

  “Jax knows already; he told me just this morning that I’m his queen and he’s my willing subject,” Ronnie says, poking her tongue out at her
glaring husband.

  “Hey, keep the role-play stories to yourself,” Ez teases.

  “Oh God, I think I’m gonna be sick. No one needs to know about anyone’s kinks,” Cohen says, fake gagging.

  Bry shoulder-bumps the youngest Cook. “So much to learn, you do,” he says, in a terrible impression of Yoda.

  “If Bryant is pulling out Yoda advice, we’re definitely going to kick their asses,” I say with a grin, locking eyes with my brother.

  “Care to put your money where your mouth is, babycakes?” Bry challenges.

  I put a hand on my hip, my lips twitching as he eyes me appreciatively.

  “Now I really am going to be sick,” Cohen grumbles.

  “Aww, Co, one day, when you’re a big boy, you’ll have a woman to make bets with you too,” Jamie jibes.

  “Hey, no dirty bets with my sister when I’m in earshot,” Ez retorts.

  Cohen snorts. “Um, are we gonna actually play golf, or are we just gonna stand here playing with our—”

  “Balls?” April says with a snort, making Ronnie giggle, which sets me off.

  Ez rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically. “I change my mind. I don’t wanna be a girl anymore.”

  “Too late for that,” Jamie says, grabbing a driver from his bag and stepping up to the tee. “Your ex-wives made sure of that.”

  That earns a chorus of ‘ooohs’ and ‘burn’ from both the girls and guys.

  “You’ll pay for that,” Ez says, his laugh making it clear he doesn’t give a shit.

  “Okay, Bakers. Time to watch a master at work,” Jamie announces, moving into position before taking a massive swing and hammering his ball out into the huge green field, well past the 160-foot marker.

  Bryant’s eyes meet mine. I trace my tongue over my bottom lip, loving how his gaze drops to my mouth before I smirk at him and mouth two words. “Your move.”

  He nods, his answering smile hitting me smack in the middle of my chest. Looking around our families, there’s one thing that hits me more than anything. I’ve missed this, and not for the first time since I got back, I wonder if I’ll ever forgive myself for missing out on twelve years of this.