by Amy Knupp
Sierra’s only response was to squeeze his fingers.
“They thought I was bad before, but that was nothing,” he said. “Senior year was more fights, more visits to the principal’s office because of mouthing off. I started skipping classes, stopped doing homework, grades plummeted, but I’d had a high GPA to start with, so I managed to graduate in spite of myself.”
“But no college.”
“That was my giant fuck-off to the world,” he said. “At least that’s how I viewed it. I’d show them. Family expectations? Shove ’em. Family business? Hell no. I think I thought, subconsciously anyway, if I didn’t go to college, I couldn’t work for North Brothers. It’d shut them the hell up. To make sure of it, I signed away my rights to my share of the company.” He blew out a heavy breath. “I know what a jackass I must sound like.” She had to be grasping exactly how giant of one, and even though that was his original intention, it bothered him. “I’m sure you don’t understand. Have you ever done anything rebellious in your life?”
Sierra laughed and raised her head from his shoulder. “Have you seen what I do for my career?” She sat up straighter and grimaced when she raised her bad leg. It had to be killing her to rest it on the floor.
“I chose not to go to college too,” she said. “I knew what I wanted to do, was already doing it. Couldn’t wait to do it full-time. My parents didn’t understand. My siblings, I’m sure, thought I was stupid and spoiled. My grandpa was still running the company then, and he supported me. After a couple of years, he encouraged me to get an associate’s degree in construction management. I did it online, before online was cool or common or respected. So yeah. I might not have had the anger thing going for me, but I’ve gone against the grain and done the opposite of what everyone else thought I should.”
This time he was the one to squeeze her fingers. He’d not thought about it before, what she must’ve gone through back then, the battles she’d had to fight herself, whether internal or with her family. She was such a strong leader, so sure of what she was doing now that it was hard to imagine her struggling with the decision back then.
“You are a little rebel,” he said with a half grin, attempting to lighten the mood.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Little makes it almost condescending, but I’ll let it slide this once.”
“You’re little.” He raised their hands to prove his point. “But fierce,” he added, to keep the peace.
It seemed to work, because she said, “So instead of college and the family business, you decided construction?”
“I skipped my graduation ceremony and took a job in road construction because it was available. Found that the hard, manual stuff helped me block out my thoughts, but there was a lot of standing around, waiting, chances for the mind to wander, so I switched to buildings instead of roads.”
“Any regrets?” she asked.
Only a planet-sized abyss of them. “I like working at Dunn & Lowell,” he said, which was the truth, if only part of it. It was much easier not to get into the rest. And way past time to change the subject and the mood. “Decent boss. If you like bossy.”
“Best freaking boss in the industry,” she said with exaggerated conviction. “And you guys need bossy. And I need to elevate my ankle.” She scooted to the edge of the cushion, stood on her good leg, then, before he knew what her aim was, she climbed on top of him.
Chapter Fifteen
Cole sat there for a couple of seconds, with Sierra’s legs draped across his lap, her delectable ass planted on the side next to the end table and her legs pointing in the opposite direction of how she’d started out, letting his brain catch up to his body. His body had already registered that she was on top of him. Need surged through him, centered in his cock, which was alert and pressing against his jeans uncomfortably.
Sierra let out a breath. “That’s better. For me,” she said and quickly met his gaze. “Is this okay? For you?”
So damn okay. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her, running his fingers through her nearly dry hair. “Yeah,” was all he said.
She averted her eyes, inhaled, which made her chest rise. He’d never had such a front-row view of her tits, and even though they were disguised by a bulky sweatshirt, he was entranced.
“Speaking of boss and work…” she said, and then she lifted her gaze to his, her long, pretty lashes framing doe eyes the color of milk chocolate. “I had good reasons for my rule about not getting involved with employees.”
“Smart policy,” he managed to get out as he fought the urge to pull her closer.
She nodded. “It was smart. But I’ve decided that sometimes you have to adhere to the rules so that you can recognize when they should be broken.”
The ache that centered between his legs, approximately point-two inches from her thigh, pulsed harder. “Strangely enough, I follow you.”
“I’ve been doing this job since before puberty, and never once has anyone tempted me until now. It takes a lot to break through my blinders, so I think, now that you have, I shouldn’t fight it.”
She reached a hand up to the back of his neck, her gaze dipping down to his lips as she pulled his head closer. Cole zeroed in on her rosy lips, the slight bow of the top one, waiting, forcing himself to let her do the advancing. It seemed to take her a year to reach him, to touch her mouth to his, and when she did, he heard a groan escape him, of relief, need, lust. His fingers in her hair tightened, held her to him as every one of his senses was engulfed by her, reacted to her. His body burned for her, and as her tongue swirled into his mouth, the heat of her breath meshing with his, it took everything in him not to roll her under him, strip her down, and bury himself inside of her.
Rein it in, asshole.
One of her hands found its way under his shirt, and her fingers trailed up his chest as she angled her body toward his, her hip pressing into his erection. The friction elicited another groan, had him pressing his body into her, pulling her more firmly against him. It was ecstasy and torture at once, because it wasn’t enough, would never be enough until there was nothing between them and he could slide his overheated skin directly against hers.
He trailed his hand to the hem of her sweatshirt, dipped it beneath the thick cotton, expecting to find another layer of material but instead was treated to her baby-soft, taut flesh. Her body was so slender and compact that he could nearly reach halfway around her with one hand, and it awakened some primal, ages-old instinct in him to guard her, protect her, keep her safe.
As their mouths continued to ravish each other, exploring, tongues tangling, Cole let his hand roam upward, searching for the silky fabric of her bra. When he discovered she was completely bare beneath the bulky sweatshirt, his thumb running into the weighty underside of her breast, he let out a growl and managed to hold himself back by a thread. With the tenderness she deserved, he inched his thumb upward until he found the rigid nub of her nipple. He palmed her, molding and squeezing the globe, wondering how it would taste, what kind of sounds he could elicit from her with his tongue. Sierra arched into his hand, pressed closer, then broke the contact of their lips.
“I want…” Her breath was shallow, shaky. “I want to climb on top of you but I can’t.”
Fuck yes. He wanted that too. “Why can’t you?” He brushed his thumb over the tip of her nipple again and she shuddered, her lids fluttering closed.
“My ankle…”
Hell. Her ankle. She was injured and he was so intent on his own needs that he’d momentarily forgotten.
“We need to slow down,” he forced out, his voice gritty, as if he’d swallowed sand.
Her eyes popped open, and she leaned forward to kiss him again.
“We don’t need to slow down,” she said after a few seconds during which his mind got semi-scrambled again. “I want this.”
It took an effort to move his hand safely to her back, farther from temptation, but he managed it. “I want this too,” he said, and he closed his eyes, thinki
ng it would be easier to get the rest out if he wasn’t staring into those gorgeous eyes. “But tonight’s not the right time. You’re hurt, for one thing.”
“You make me forget about the pain,” she said, running her fingers over his jaw.
“I need to catch up,” he said. “In my head. You decided you’re okay with fooling around with the help—”
“You’re not the help,” she said, flicking him on the chest, grinning.
“But I still need to get my mind around sleeping with the boss,” he finished. It wasn’t a lie, but it was only part of the truth. The heart of the matter was he needed to figure out if it was possible to hook up the way they both seemed to want to without her hoping for more. It was the “more” he would screw up.
She became serious again, peered into his eyes, as if measuring whether she should persuade him or appease him, which really wasn’t the right word for it, because walking out of this apartment tonight was going to be one of the hardest things he’d done in his life. But it was the right thing. He didn’t have a long history of doing the right thing, but for Sierra, he would start.
She pressed a light kiss on his lips and then increased the space between their heads. “Okay. I guess that’s only fair. The getting-your-mind-around-it part, not the ankle part.”
With a halfhearted smile, he said, “Both are legit. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to pick you up, and you’re going to tell me where you want to be for the rest of the evening. In your bed? Here on the couch? And then I’m going to set you down there and get you whatever else you need. And then I’m going to limp out of here with my jeans threatening my ability to reproduce.”
She laughed and lowered a hand to his crotch, but he intercepted. “No, you don’t,” he bit out, wanting nothing more than her hands all over him.
With another quiet but wicked laugh, she lifted her hand, trailed a finger over his lower lip. “I see I’m not the only one who can be bossy.”
He shifted, prepared to stand with her cradled in his arms. “Bed or couch?”
“Couch,” she said.
He stood, gently set her back in her corner, refilled her wineglass, took their dinner trash to the kitchen.
“Anything else I can get for you before I leave?” he asked.
She peered up at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and he thought she might try one more time to get him to stay—and he wasn’t sure he could refuse again. After a pause, she shook her head. “I’m good.”
Cole bent down and kissed her on the lips, pulling himself away before he was ready, then straightened, went to the door, and walked out.
Once the door between them was closed, he stood there, eyes shut, and reminded himself that the best way to protect her from being hurt was to stay the hell away from her.
Chapter Sixteen
As soon as Cole pulled up to his mom’s house Sunday evening, he shot out of his truck as if his shirt was on fire. It might as well be, as he’d felt like he was coming out of his skin ever since walking out of Sierra’s apartment Friday night. He hadn’t talked to her since except to check in with a text message on Saturday to see how her ankle was.
Much better, she’d responded and added an overly happy emoji. Thanks for being my knight.
He wasn’t a knight and that was a weird-ass thing for her to say. He’d shrugged and simply said, You’re welcome. He’d started typing a dozen other things then, like Let me know if you need anything, How about if I bring some carryout? and Do you need a ride to the doctor? but he’d deleted every one of them, acknowledging that he was looking for an excuse to see her, and if he gave himself that, he’d do something ill-advised, something he’d regret, like kiss her some more.
He’d parked along the curb in spite of the double driveway, having learned years ago how likely it was to get blocked in. According to the vehicles in the driveway, he was the last to arrive—Drake’s Dugati, Mason’s Audi, and Gabe’s Tesla were already there. As he went up the wide walkway to the front porch of the traditional two-story, he noticed the yard needed some attention. Though the oak tree was holding on to its yellow leaves, the maple had shed all of its foliage, littering the yard and the usually manicured beds on each side of the walkway. One of them would have to do some raking in the next few days so their mom didn’t have to worry about it.
He glanced up at the window of his old bedroom, front and center, above the dining room. The blinds, which his mom normally made a point of opening each day, were closed tight, same as the room Gabe and Mason had shared, to the right of his.
His parents had bought the North family home three years before Cole was born, when his older brothers were early school-age. It’d been a stretch to buy the nearly three-thousand-square-foot home, he’d heard them say many times, and a bit of a gamble, as the single-location North Brothers store was young and not at all a sure thing back then. By the time the twins were in middle school, that had changed significantly, and his parents could’ve bought something bigger and newer, but his mom liked the idea of giving her family a solid, unchanging home base. In spite of the business’s growth and success, Faye and Harry North had stayed humble and wanted their boys to do the same.
Even in the depths of their home, Cole was the odd man out. It was a four-bedroom house—one for his parents, one for the two older boys, one for him, and eventually, one for the twins when they were born. Before they’d come along, the fourth had been used as a playroom. While Cole had liked having his own room, he’d always been aware that he was the only one who wasn’t paired off.
The front door was unlocked, and Cole let himself into the two-story foyer.
“Hello?” he called out.
“In here,” Drake said from beyond the central staircase that led to the second floor.
Cole passed the stairway and saw the family room was empty, so he headed toward the noise in the guest room on the left, which had originally served as his father’s office. It had taken his mom several years after his dad’s death to change it.
“What are you doing in here?” Cole asked as he entered the room through the double French doors. It was stuffed full of Norths, with his mom sitting up in the bed and Mason, Gabe, and Drake spread around the room. “I thought the doctor said stairs were okay.”
“Last-minute pivot,” Gabe said. “Stairs are okay but not multiple times a day, so we set her up in here for a couple of weeks.”
“How are you feeling, Mom?” Cole asked, coming up next to Drake at the foot of the double bed.
“Happy.” Her smile was genuine but her eyes showed fatigue, as they had all week. “My own house, no nurses waking me up at all hours, and my boys here with me. I wish Zane could come for a visit, but we’re going to FaceTime tomorrow.”
“Plus some decent food,” Drake said. “I’ve got three bags full of healthy stuff in the kitchen.”
Their mom’s shoulders sagged at the mention. “I think I’d like a nap first,” she said with a frown. “As ridiculous as it sounds, coming home wore me out.”
“That doesn’t sound ridiculous at all,” Gabe said. “You had open heart surgery a week ago.”
“Dr. Beacham said you need to rest a lot,” Mason added. “And we’re going to see that you do.”
Cole had spent a couple of hours that morning in her hospital room, as well as the evening shift the night before. Today had been a waiting game, first to get the news that she would, in fact, be released, and then to get the discharge orders, the paperwork, and all the details checked off before they’d let her go. Mason had been the one who was there for the doctor’s blessing and who’d driven her home. They’d all wanted to be here for her first night back. Sundays had always been family dinner night anyway, even if Cole hadn’t bothered to show up most of the time.
Gabe closed the blinds on the two windows in the room that looked out onto the darkening backyard. “You get some sleep, Mom. We’ll eat when you wake up.”
“What time is it?” She checked the red n
umbers of the digital alarm clock on the nightstand, which said it was 8:14 p.m. “You boys eat now. I know you’re starving.”
“You know us well,” Mason said.
“I’ll make sure these thugs save you some food,” Drake said.
Gabe snorted good-naturedly. “How dumb do you think we are?”
“When have we ever left you in charge of food?” Mason said to Drake. “We’ll make sure there’s enough saved for your dinner, Mom.”
“I don’t need much,” Faye said. “Cole? Are you doing okay?”
“Good, Mom. Glad you’re home.” He stepped to her side as she carefully lowered herself to lie flat on her back. “We should’ve gotten you a hospital bed so you could raise and lower yourself more easily.”
“I’ve had enough of hospital beds for the rest of my life,” their mom said emphatically. “I’m more than happy to lie down on my own. Now get out of here. Go eat.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Drake said. He patted her foot, which was buried beneath the blankets. “Sleep well, Mom.”
Mason and Gabe followed suit, and Cole bent down and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Get some rest.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, already sounding drowsy.
Cole didn’t reiterate how much the four of them—and Zane, too, from what Drake said—had worried about her. How could they not? She was the force that kept the North family bonds tight, or as tight as Cole would allow them to be.
When Cole got to the kitchen, on the other side of the family room, Drake was already pulling carryout containers out of bags and popping them open on the counter. “Organic for everyone,” he said. “Healthy or bust. Salmon and Brussels salad is for Mom. Burgers for everyone else. Home-baked whole-grain buns, grass-fed beef, local micro greens, smoked bacon, all the condiments on the side.”
“Fries?” Gabe asked.
“We’re doing healthy,” Drake repeated, his tone saying Gabe was a dumb ass. “How would you like to be stuck eating a fish salad while you can smell everyone else’s French fries?”