CONVICT: An Unfit Hero Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  RYLAN

  I keep my phone close to me throughout the workday. I know that she’s okay, that she’s safe, but I can’t shake the feeling that another shoe is about to drop. Wyatt and I are both quiet throughout the entire workday. Something is wrong, something feels off. There is an impending doom of what is to come, and I can’t fucking shake it. The last time I had this feeling Channing was taken. I can’t have that fucking shit happen again.

  “You okay?” Wyatt asks when we’re on our way home. I’m hot, sore, and tired as fuck.

  I grunt, letting my head fall back. “Something is off,” I state.

  He doesn’t say anything, the cab of the truck a little too quiet as we head toward the duplex. I want to ask him if he feels it too, although I think that the silence is telling enough. He does. He feels it as much as I do. Looking straight ahead, I watch as my street comes into view. I let out a sigh of relief when I see Channing’s car parked in its normal spot.

  “I don’t know what it is. You’re right, though. Something is off. Maybe it’s nothing though, maybe we’re still jumpy from everything that’s already happened,” Wyatt murmurs into the otherwise quiet cab.

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  I don’t believe my own words. Glancing over to Wyatt as he shifts the truck into park, he doesn’t believe them either. If he did, he wouldn’t be opening his pickup door and sliding out. He would just drop me off and head on home. Instead, he’s walking with me toward the front door. It’s in the air, you can almost taste it.

  Together me and Wyatt walk up the front drive. He stands to the side of the door, waiting for me. Shoving my key into the lock, I slowly unlock, then twist the knob. Closing my eyes, I push the door open. Music spills from the living room, it’s some folksy shit I’ve never heard before, but I know that Channing’s listened to it before.

  “Sweetheart, you home?” I call out as I walk into the living room. The duplex is so small I could probably stretch my arms around and touch the walls around me with both hands. “Channing?” I call out a second time.

  I hear movement from the bedroom and Wyatt and I both hold our breath as we turn to look. Channing stops in the short hall. Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail. She’s wearing a tight tank top that stretches across her growing belly and a pair of short shorts that shows off her fantastic legs and I’m sure if she turned around and bent over slightly, I’d see some ass cheek too.

  “Hey,” she smiles, pulling her phone out of her pocket and turning off her music. “What’s up?”

  Wyatt laughs and I join suit, shaking my head. She’s fine, the house is fine, everything is okay. We were both worried over absolutely nothing. “Not much, darlin’,” Wyatt grins. “See you tomorrow?” he asks, looking over to me.

  “Yeah.”

  He lifts his hand and gives Channing a flick of his fingers as a wave before he walks out of the duplex, closing the door behind him. She doesn’t move, her brows furrowed as she watches me.

  “What was that?” she asks.

  “Nothin’,” I lie.

  I don’t want to tell her that I’ve been imagining the worst all day long. It’s stupid. I’m just being paranoid. I’ll probably always be paranoid too, five years in the pen, and everything that’s happened recently, has made that just part of who I am now.

  Channing slowly closes the distance between us and places her palms on my chest. “You smell,” she says, wrinkling her nose as she tips her head back.

  “Been workin’,” I grin.

  Lowering my chin, I brush my lips across hers. She hums against my mouth. “You still smell. Go clean up and I’ll finish dinner,” she breathes against my lips.

  “What did you make?” I ask.

  “Lasagna. It’s in the fridge, I just have to pop it into the oven.”

  Without another word, she takes a step back and turns to walk into the kitchen. My eyes follow her retreating ass. I was right. Her cheeks are hanging out of the bottom of her little soft shorts. Goddamn, my woman is fine as shit. I adjust my hardening cock before I make my way into the bedroom and head toward the shower.

  After washing off the day’s dirt and grime, I feel a bit more at ease, but not completely. There is still something ugly hovering above me, above us. I don’t know what it is, but it’s there and it’s waiting to strike. I just know it. This life of ours, it’s not meant to be easy. It’s not meant to have smooth sailing, the people we are, the pasts that we have, we are meant to constantly have hurdles. We have to fight, with blood, sweat, and tears for our happiness.

  Pulling on a pair of boxers, I grab my jeans and tug them over my hips, zipping them as I make my way into the kitchen. I decide to forego a shirt, I’m just too fucking tired to worry about that right now, plus it’s less laundry for Channing to deal with later.

  She’s in the kitchen, her little ass cheeks hanging out of the bottom of her shorts as she bends over to take the food out of the oven. Leaning against the doorjamb, my shoulder propped and holding me up, I watch her.

  She sets the container of food on the counter, then leans over and inhales deeply letting out a little moan when she does. I chuckle, unable to contain myself. She’s so damn cute.

  Her head slowly turns and her cheeks tint pink when she realizes I’ve caught her. “It smells so good, and I don’t even care that I’m the one who made it.” She smiles with a small shrug.

  “It does, sweetheart.”

  “Go and sit, I’ll bring your food to you,” she offers.

  I shake my head slowly, closing the distance between us. Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around her hip and give her a gentle squeeze. “You aren’t bringing shit to me. That’s my job, Channing. Go and sit,” I order.

  She shakes her head, opening her mouth to protest but I cut her off with a look, one she knows not to defy or maybe she just understands that I’m not going to allow her to serve me. There is a time and place for everything, and my pregnant fiancée bringing me the food she cooked, is not what’s happening tonight.

  Channing slowly sits down, and I plate our food, then take it over to the small table. Once I set our plates down, I look at how they take up the entire small table. It won’t fit three people, it barely fits two. Soon we’ll have to get a new dining set. The thought makes me smile. I should be worried about the money, but I’m not.

  I’m looking forward to our little family growing—together.

  “What?” Channing asks, taking a bite of food.

  I shrug. “Just thinking about what’s to come for us,” I admit.

  Though I don’t tell her that I’m also waiting for something bad to drop at the same time I’m excited for the good shit that’s coming as well. I decide to keep it positive, especially after the past few days. She smiles, though it looks strained. Maybe she’s having the same gloom and doom feeling as me and Wyatt?

  “Are you worried?” she asks, dropping her gaze to her plate. She doesn’t continue to eat, she’s staring at her plate as if it’s going to give her the answer, instead of me.

  Reaching across the table, I take her hand in mine and squeeze her fingers. “Look at me,” I demand.

  Her eyes lift to mine and I can see the worry and sadness swimming in her gaze. All shit that she doesn’t have to think about with me, but it’s there, and it will be there until she knows one hundred percent that she can trust me.

  “I love you, Channing. I’m excited for the future. I was just thinking that soon we’d have to buy a bigger table and honest to fuck, sweetheart, I can’t wait.”

  Her eyes fill with wetness and her teeth sink into her bottom lip. “You’re always making me cry,” she whimpers. She uses her free hand to dash away the tears that start to fall down her cheeks.

  I grin unable to stop from smiling at how fucking cute she is, and how lucky I am to have her. “Just tellin’ the truth. Nothing but the goddamn truth of it all.”

  CHANNING

  Rylan forces me to go sit on the sofa and relax while he cleans up dinner. I r
elax as much as I can, but I can’t stop myself from watching him the entire time. He’s sexy as sin when he’s washing dishes, or maybe it’s my hormones. I don’t really care what it is, I know that I just want him—right now. I think I’ll always want him though, there’s just something about him, about what he does to me.

  My eyelids grow heavy as he continues to clean and no matter how hard I fight my sleep, it eventually takes over. I don’t wake, not even when he picks me up and carries me back to our bed. I stay asleep when he strips me of my clothes and only when his warm mouth and the feel of his tongue is against my center do my eyes flutter open.

  “Rylan,” I breathe.

  He hums against me, the vibration coursing through me, causing my eyes to roll in the back of my head. His tongue fills me, fucks me, then moves slowly toward my clit. His concentration, his patience, his ability to make me want to scream and cry all at the same time, it’s more than anything I’ve ever felt before in my life.

  Rylan sucks on my clit, flicking it with his tongue repeatedly until I fall apart beneath him. My body stills as my thighs tremble against his cheeks. He turns his head to the side, placing a gentle kiss on the inside of my thigh before his lips touch my hipbone, then my belly.

  He places his palms on my belly before lifting his face. He looks down at his hands spanning my stomach. I’m still small enough, or maybe his hands are just that big, that they encompass my entire swollen stomach.

  “You make me happy, Channing. This baby makes me happy,” he admits. “Next appointment we get to know what it is, right?” he asks me.

  I nod with a small hum, then lift my hand and run my fingers through his hair. His eyes meet mine and all thoughts of the baby disappear when I look into his hungry gaze. I need him. I can feel myself growing slick with desire again. I came only moments ago, but the need to be touched builds quickly again, my body practically begging for release, begging for his touch, for him to fill me completely.

  He lowers his head, his mouth touching the center of my chest, then I whimper as his tongue tastes me from there all the way up the column of my neck until he reaches my earlobe. He nips my ear, his hot breath sliding over my wet skin.

  “Hands and knees, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck you from behind. I’m going to watch that sexy ass. I’m going to pull this fantastic fucking hair. I’m going to own you, Channing. Like only I can,” he growls.

  My entire body does a complete shiver from his words. He moves off of me and as quickly as I can, I roll over onto my hands and knees. I spread my thighs apart, stick my ass back, and lower my head onto the bed. I can’t wait for him to do every single thing he described, and more, so much more.

  I feel the head of his cock run along my wet and waiting center. He stops at my clit, then repeats the motion. Without a word of warning, he slides inside of me with one quick thrust. I let out a gasp then groan once he’s seated completely inside of me. His hands wrap around my hips and I feel his fingers grip me tightly.

  One of his hands leaves my hips, as I close my eyes and allow myself to adjust to his size. His hand slides up my side then wraps around my body, until he finds his purchase on my breast.

  “Up, sweetheart,” he orders as he pulls me up straighter.

  Rylan pulls me up until my back is almost completely straight and leaning against his strong chest. His other hand leaves my hip and I close my eyes with a sigh as his fingers touch my clit. Turning my head to the side, I press my mouth against his neck.

  “Fuck me, Channing,” he rasps into the silent room. “Fuck me and make yourself come again. I want to feel you. I want this sweet pussy to soak my cock. C’mon, sweetheart,” he chants softly.

  Keeping my eyes closed, I push back, taking more of him inside of me. I fuck him, just like he tells me, just like he urges. His voice is so low, so sexy and raspy that it only spurs me on. Opening my mouth, I gently suck on the skin at his neck as I take him.

  Rylan’s fingers strum against my clit, harder and faster, matching my movements as I take him, as I push back against him. When he lifts his hand and gently slaps my pussy, I let out a cry. The fingers at my breast pluck my nipple at the same time sending tingling sensations throughout my entire being.

  “Yes,” I hiss. I’m close.

  I’m climbing higher and higher, on the verge of combustion. He growls and slaps my clit again, then a third time. My body jerks, and that’s when I rip my mouth from his neck and fall forward, my arms flying to brace my body and keep from falling onto my stomach. I push back against him, once, twice, and three times before I slam back as hard as I can one last time and still. I come. It’s long, it’s hard, and it’s delicious.

  My body jerks as I cry out with my release. I can feel my pussy pulse, attempting to keep Rylan’s cock deep inside, but he doesn’t follow suit. He moves his hands to my hips, gripping me tightly as he pulls them back before thrusting deep inside of me.

  He fucks me. Relentlessly. Hard and quick strokes, his balls slapping against my already sensitive clit, causing my breath to hitch each time.

  When he stills, I feel his dick grow and then he fills me with his release. I let out my own sigh, enjoying the feeling of his cum as it fills me. I never thought I would enjoy that sensation, but with Rylan I do. With Rylan, I enjoy every aspect of sex, the good, the bad, the messy, and the ugly. I love it all, probably because I truly love him.

  He stays planted deep inside of me, his breathing loud and short behind me as if he’s attempting to catch his breath. I do the same, the sounds of our mixed breaths filling the room around us. Eventually, he gently glides out of me and I grunt, hating the empty feeling inside of me when he’s no longer there to fill it up.

  His hands guide me onto my side as he crawls in behind me. His hand immediately wraps around my stomach, his mouth against the side of my neck.

  “Sleep, sweetheart,” he breathes.

  My eyes close, and without a second thought my entire body relaxes and I do as he’s requested. I sleep. I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. I don’t know how we’ll pay the bills that will be due at the end of the week. I don’t know how we’ll buy clothes or diapers.

  I don’t know how we’ll even survive this life, but what I do know is that it will be together. This man has me by my soul. He holds me close, and he grips me so tight, as if he’s afraid that I won’t be here tomorrow. What he doesn’t realize is that I will always be here, right at his side.

  I will fight, claw and scratch to stay exactly where I am with him. To have him wrapped around me naked in this bed. Where we were always meant to be.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  RYLAN

  Another day away from Channing. Another ten hours of feeling like something is going to go wrong. Completely and totally wrong. I don’t know how to shake this feeling. Sitting across from Wyatt at lunch and I know that he’s still feeling it as well. Something just ain’t fucking right. But what?

  “Teacher isn’t a problem anymore, neither is the wife or the brother. You’re just worrying over nothing,” Wyatt announces as he takes a bite of his sandwich.

  “Then why are you worried too?” I ask, lifting a brow.

  Wyatt lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck if I know,” he grunts.

  “Parents,” I announce. Wyatt frowns, his eyes connecting with mine in question. “Hers and mine. Her mama is hooked on shit, so are my folks. They’re in the background, but they’ve all made visits recently so I know that something will happen eventually.”

  “You don’t think they’d hurt her, do you?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to think that they would. But are they capable? Yeah, if they thought it would yield results, they’d do whatever the fuck they thought they could to get their shit.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he mumbles.

  We don’t say anything else. We eat the rest of our lunch in silence. I know that both of us are consumed with our thoughts. We can’t help but think about my parent
s, and Channing’s mother. All destructive addicts, all three are fucking crazy assholes. Fuck. I can’t shield her from them either. I have to work, I have to be away from her to earn a living for us, for our future.

  I check my phone a dozen times throughout the rest of the day. I need to stop this shit. I can’t worry about the what-ifs. I just fucking can’t. There are way too fucking many what-ifs in the world. I cannot think about this, I cannot worry about something happening to her.

  Channing is a grown woman, she knows what to do if she’s in a bad situation. She knows how to get help. I can only hope that she always will do just that. I can always hope that she’ll protect this baby that way, always. Without them, I can’t breathe, so I fucking hope that she will always protect the both of them.

  When the workday is finished, Wyatt drives me home. The ride is silent until we pull up to the duplex. “You know who I could talk to about getting a bigger place? I’ve called a few management companies and none of them are really forthcoming with me, I think it’s because of my past. Do you think anyone in town would be willing to rent to a convict?” I ask.

  Wyatt shifts in his seat uncomfortably, and I know that’s my answer. “Can you just put it under Channing’s name?” he asks.

  “Marrying her Friday,” I say nonchalantly and shrug.

  He whips his head to face me, his eyes widen and a smile is tugging on his lips. “You are?”

  “She’s mine,” I state.

  He nods once. “Let me make a couple of calls. Do I get an invite?”

  My lips twitch as I look at my cousin. “Three o’clock at the courthouse,” I announce.

  “You going to wear your work clothes? We don’t get off until one,” he asks.

  I push the truck door open and slide out. “Channing don’t care. Honest to fuck, I just want her to be mine, all mine,” I smile.

  Wyatt shakes his head. “I’ll bring you a fuckin’ shirt,” he mumbles.

  “So you’ll be there?”