I watch as Connor’s eyes trail after me.
When I wake the next morning, Lily’s sound asleep, snuggled up against me.
She cuddled into my bed again, saying I help chase the nightmares away. She misses her parents so much; then to have her brothers taken from her… I wish I could erase the trauma she’s gone through. That they’ve all gone through.
Her small head is resting on the pillow next to me. Gently, I capture a strand of wayward hair from her sweet little face and secure it behind her ear. Her hair is just like Max’s, a swath of unruly blond curls. She and Max got their mother’s hair, while Jackson must’ve gotten his father’s. I place a kiss on top of her head and breathe in her baby-like scent.
A pang of hurt and fear cuts through the tender moment. She deserves a home and a loving family to grow up with.
I shudder at the thought of her being shuffled between group homes and foster families until she’s so tired of not being loved, she loses the essence of who she is. Masking her personality, trying to stay safe, building walls around her heart just to protect herself. Having to become tough to hide the pain.
I can’t let that happen!
“I’ll find a way, Lily,” I promise as my lips press into her hair.
I know I’ve crossed the line they warn you about in the social service textbooks…
I’ve fallen in love with them.
And I don’t care. I wouldn’t change how I feel for anything.
Careful not to disturb her, I slide out from under the covers, tuck the edges of the blanket back around her, then tiptoe out of the room.
After I get dressed and brush out my hair, I roam downstairs and come under the spell of the most amazing aroma. When I push open the kitchen door, I’m greeted by Connor’s back—an apron tied in a bow around his waist—above his finely sculpted ass, filling out his Levi’s quite nicely. He has a spatula in his hand, and there are monster stacks of pancakes on huge platters spread across the kitchen counters and more on the table.
He doesn’t see me. I suspect he wouldn’t be able to hear me either if I said hello because of the wires leading from his ears to—I suspect his phone—disappearing into his back pocket. He brings his heel up and down to the beat of the music only he can hear. A moment later he shakes his hip.
Now he’s humming. As he reaches the chorus, he lifts the spatula to his mouth like it’s a microphone and belts the Black Crowes’ ‘Hard to Handle’—a lot more loudly than I suspect he means to.
I start to laugh but bite my lip to stifle it. I don’t want him to hear me and stop the show.
His blue tee shirt has The Core logo on the back—a tree with deeply planted roots and Japanese symbols around it. The short sleeves show off his muscularly defined arms—the ones that were wrapped around me just yesterday—and colorful ink
“Whoops!” he says as drops of pancake batter hit the toe of his black Converse.
He’s like a kid. I smile tenderly. A teenage boy who never completely grew up. I like that about him. He’s playful.
Watching his back muscles move beneath his tee shirt, I find myself enjoying the way the fabric shifts to accommodate him.
“Stack number seven,” he announces to himself.
Before I can duck out of the way, he spins on his heel, the platter held high in his open palm.
“Holy Christ!” He just about jumps through the ceiling in surprise. The platter wobbles as if it’s about to drop, but he balances it in the nick of time.
“Good morning.” Smiling sweetly, I feign innocence.
“How…”—he’s breathless—“how long… have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” I lie. “Just walked in, actually.”
He eyes me suspiciously. Sure he’ll catch me in the lie, I quickly shift my gaze and move to the table. “You’ve made enough pancakes for an army.”
“At least the small army that’ll be stomping down those stairs in the next few minutes.” He casts a questioning glance my way, no doubt wondering how much of his antics I caught.
“Do you like to cook?” I inhale the aroma of the fresh pancakes.
“When I have someone to cook for, yeah.” He adds, “I’m usually too busy to cook for myself though. You?”
“Not really. I’d probably starve to death if it weren’t for Whole Foods salad bar and take-out.”
He laughs a little, letting his guard down a bit. “Well, first one in the kitchen is the official taste tester.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t. I mean, they smell divine, but I haven’t even had coffee yet.”
“Trust me. You want a taste.” Connor spears a fork into two pancake layers that are drenched with melted butter and sweet sticky real maple syrup. He cups his hand to catch what drips and lifts the offering to my lips.
All at once, the scene feels incredibly erotic.
Heat rises in my face—and between my legs. I’m at a clear disadvantage, having had too many intimate fantasies of the man before I knew who he really was under the head gear. Now I’m screwed.
I lick my lips, wetting them in anticipation, and it’s like adding fuel to the fire. He’s so close. I swear his bright ocean eyes become lustfully dark. His lips look invitingly soft and supple, especially in the context of his rugged muscles and ink. I wonder how the sensation of those lips would feel against my own.
Even if I can’t—and shouldn’t want to—kiss them, I really want to reach up and touch them. Maybe just glide the pad of my thumb gently across them, tracing the top one first, then the bottom.
As our eyes lock, I open my mouth for him.
His eyes drop to my lips and he seems mesmerized. Carefully, he slides the pancakes over my tongue.
The sweet maple syrup and salty butter burst against my palate as I close my mouth over the fork.
“Oh my God!” I moan, covering my mouth with my hand so I can talk—or so I can disguise what’s happening to me.
Fuck! Wetness is pooling between my thighs; I feel my breasts and nipples hardening without permission under my light shift. I’m thankful for the thick robe I was smart enough to wear over it.
Ugh! I hated this man not more than three days ago, and now I’m questioning if I’d let him take me right here on the kitchen table.
Very glad kids are in the house. Stops me from doing foolish, dangerous things.
Connor pulls the fork away as I savor the flavors in my mouth. He stands still, like he’s hypnotized, his chest rising and falling. I’m wondering if he’s feeling what I am. Or if it’s my own residual fantasy.
I can picture his body crashing against mine—all his power and passion—pressing me forcefully against the kitchen wall. His maple-sticky hands gripping my face as he takes my mouth in a kiss full of tongue, lips and teeth.
“What do you think?” His breath is ragged.
“So good.” And they are—the fantasy and the pancakes. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
He smiles huge. Then, almost seductively, asks, “Want another bite?”
Not able to speak, I just nod.
He cuts into the stack with the fork again—never taking his eyes from mine—and lifts the bite to my mouth. I’m sure he’s standing closer than he was the first time. I can’t breathe. I roll the pancakes between my teeth but swallow hard when I realize he’s watching my mouth, mesmerized.
Right then, Brandon and Nicole come crashing through the door into the kitchen.
Connor and I immediately jump apart, putting a good five feet of distance between us. My heart is pounding!
“Pay up!” Nicole shouts, holding her hand out toward Brandon. “Fifty cents!”
“You called it.” Brandon reaches into his front pocket, pulls out the change, then deposits two quarters into her palm.
“I told you I smelled pancakes,” she croons victoriously.
I roll my eyes in relief, shooting a quick glance toward Connor to discover he’s turned the opposite way, back in front of the stove like nothing happened.
/>
“You guys are the best house parents ever!” Brandon exclaims, taking a seat at the table.
“It’s all Connor,” I say, giving credit where credit is due. I’m seriously relieved I can still talk and that they weren’t betting on whether or not they’d catch me and Connor having such an intimate moment.
“I just got downstairs too,” I add for good measure. “Need coffee.”
“I made you that too.” Connor’s voice is quieter than usual. He doesn’t turn but just nods at the French press on the counter.
What’s up with him? Is he embarrassed? Did I make up the whole thing? Was it all me and my wildly overactive imagination?
I’m so nervous now, I fumble to grab a mug and nearly drop the thing. He must have seen it out of his peripheral, because he turns just in time to catch it. When he passes it to me, our hands touch.
Electricity crackles between us and he doesn’t let go. Instead, he allows the caress to linger for a moment.
As he leaves the mug in my hand, he smiles softly, lifts the French press and pours it for me. “There’s cream in the fridge and stevia or sugar in the jars on the table.”
“Thank you.” I’m totally trying to process what just happened.
Dropping in a splash of cream and a teaspoon of stevia, I tell him, “I’m going to check on the little ones.”
“Remember, we’re heading to The Core when breakfast is done.”
“Yeah, The Core. Good idea,” I stutter. “Oh, um… your tee shirt.” Fucking brilliant, you just told him you noticed what he was wearing! “Of course, it’s on the activities list. I’ll go make sure everybody else is up and—” I’m talking way too fast, so I clamp my lips shut.
Brandon and Nicole’s eyebrows knit, as if they’re trying to figure out what’s going on. But Connor shoves a fresh plate of pancakes under each of their noses, and any possible suspicion melts with the butter.
I make a break for it, and Connor throws me a wisp of a grin just before the door closes behind me.
Connor
ELLE HAS INFILTRATED every part of my mind! She’s so unbelievably beautiful, in every way I could possibly imagine. She loves fiercely, acts kindly, speaks her mind and is loyal.
Does she know how incredibly sexy that makes her? How much more it makes me want her?
The scent of her hair lingers in a room after she’s left it, just like her mesmerizing gaze. Fuck! I thought I was going to die when I slid those pancakes in between her sweet, soft, pink lips! I think to myself as I finish washing the mixing bowl and wiping down the kitchen counter.
My cock had pulsed hot, hard as steel beneath that apron. The loose fabric of the apron and the firm denim of my Levi’s were my only saving grace, so she didn’t see it. I can only take so much. I wanted to grip her by the shoulders, pin her against the wall and possess her mouth with mine; to bite and lick her maple-syrup-glossed lips. Did she know how sensuous she was being as her soft mouth wrapped around that fork?
I felt so busted when the kids came bursting through the door. I have to be more careful; I’ve done too many stupid-as-fuck things, like singing to her when we played Rock Band. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from her.
I want her to know how I feel, and I absolutely cannot let her know how I feel!
Now I watch her as she wrangles the kids to leave.
If only I’d been the advocate attorney she’d been waiting for that day, instead of who I really am and who I’m working for. Maybe I would’ve stood a chance.
I’m falling in love with her, and it’s going to hurt like hell because she hates my fucking guts. She won’t stay single forever. I can’t even think about her with another guy without my insides twisting into knots.
I’ve relished every moment of her watching me sparring at The Core, her eyes scorching me, lingering over my skin and muscle when she thought I wasn’t paying attention—oh, I’ve paid attention to every moment of her being in my home, my Core…
Of her being back in my universe. What games the planets play.
Now that she knows I was the guy under that head gear, that fun little game is over. I growl inwardly as we pile into the North House van on our way to The Core. All my feelings and desires, and one exceptional memory, heap over me, burying me under ten-tons of bricks.
Trying to act upbeat and normal on the ride, I turn up the radio. That and the noise of the kids help drown out my inner storm until we get there. Then everyone runs off in separate directions. Once I’m alone, entering the locker room, my mind is spinning on full tilt.
What am I supposed to do? What is she feeling? Anything other than loathing? She’s at least been able to feign civility toward me for the sake of the kids.
I see the girl in the woman she’s become. Will she ever see me? Know it’s me? Will I someday be able to tell her? Did it matter to her as deeply as it did me? That moment. That moment made up of mere minutes that’s followed me my entire life.
It can’t possibly mean as much to her as it does to me. But, I think…
She still wears the pendant.
And if it does mean something to her… when she finds out it’s me… She already hates me. I could screw up the memory we share. I massage my temples.
I’d thought about just blurting it out so many times throughout this weekend. Maybe if we weren’t on opposing teams, it could’ve been a touching reunion.
I ache to know what happened that night. What the outcome was. If what I’d done mattered or even made a difference.
Brandon comes jogging in. “Hey, Connor, you okay?”
“Completely.”
“You look like you got a headache.”
“Nope.” Not exactly.
“Good. Can Tyler and me spar?”
“Just put on gear and go easy.”
“Thanks!” He runs off.
I come out of the locker room hesitantly, and reluctant. Elle may have let her guard down just enough to get along with me in front of the kids, but I know she holds a fortified encampment around her heart. We have only a fragile accord, wrought on her side by uncertainty and suspicion.
She’s broken me wide open.
She trusted me to take her and Lily down the hill on the sled… her putting that kind of faith in me to protect them for even that seemingly small moment was huge to me.
I recall her laughter, her playful smile.
Her hips, her ass, tucked snugly between my thighs.
I haven’t dated, really dated, for a few years. I’ve been too busy with my career to have any kind of serious relationship. Hookups for sex, yeah. But even those nights have become distant memories. The guys would totally taunt me if they knew it’d been nearly six months.
With Elle, everything I’d iced over to avoid distractions was completely thawed the moment I realized who she was. Not just who she was from our past, but who she is, here and now.
The other night, I thought she might have figured it out. It seemed like a switch went off behind her eyes, but I guess the light hadn’t gone on after all.
The end of the week will be here soon enough, and then I’ll only see her at The Core…
And court. The thought stings.
That reminds me, I’m still faced with the dilemma of how to keep those kids together and somehow salvage my job. With Prescott’s influence and affluence, along with his complete lack of moral character, I don’t even know if there is anything I can do.
Someone’s going to lose. And I get the feeling that, no matter what the outcome, that someone is going to be me.
“Hey, Connor.” Jackson catches up with me as I walk into the main hub of The Core. “Who’s that?” He points to the large photograph that’s been hanging above the sparring rings for as long as I can remember.
“Bruce Lee.”
“And again, I say, who’s that?”
“Who’s that?” I repeat incredulously. “Only one of the best martial artists who ever lived. He was my dad’s inspiration.”
“Your dad’s?
”
“Yeah, Cade idolizes him.”
“Wait, Cade is your dad?” he asks wide-eyed.
“Yeah, the best kind—the kind that chose me.”
“Chose you?” Jackson tilts an eyebrow at me.
“Yep. I was a lot like you. I didn’t have parents either, was living on the streets and in foster homes. Even spent time in juvie. Then I got sent to North House. About a year later, Cade decided he wanted to keep me.”
“You grew up there?”
“I became a man there.” Smiling at him, I ruffle his hair.
“I wish someone would choose me. I’d like to have a dad,” Jackson says with a far-off look in his eyes. “My stepdad was okay, but we never got really close. Max was his favorite. I never met my real dad. He took off before I was born.”
“I’m sorry, buddy.”
“It’s cool,” he quips, aloof.
It’s not cool.
“How would you like to spar with me? One on one?”
“Really!? Hell yeah!”
“Hit the lockers, put on shorts and meet me back here when you’re ready.”
“YES!” Jackson bounds away.
Taking a nonchalant stroll while I wait, I pass by the yoga studio, peering through the glass. I find Elle having a rare moment alone, working through a yoga sequence. Her body is perfect. I don’t often get a chance to watch her, because she’s always doing this with a bunch of kids. But right now, alone…
Those planks... I wish she was doing them on top of me.
Naked.
I feel the corners of my lips curl upward, the frustration of problems I can’t solve dissolving in the presence of her sensuality. The crackling sexuality she emits is a welcome distraction.
Oh, that body! The ways she must be able to move in bed. Her arms and legs are finely sculpted, while she possesses sweet curves in all the right places. I’d love to sink my fingers into the flesh of her hips and pull her on top of me. Lift that pretty pink shirt and bite at the tips of her breasts as I grind my hard cock against her core, feeling her wet heat building through those thin yoga pants. Sink my hand into her gorgeous blond mane, tugging it back so I can bite and suck at her throat. Tease her as she purrs and moans, arching her back, chasing the sensations for more until she screams my name and begs me to drive my cock deep inside her.
Risk: An Enemies to Lovers, Second Chance Romance Standalone (Brothers of Ink and Steel) Page 12