Our Shattered Pieces

by M. E. Clayton

  “It does take some getting used to,” Rowan admitted before taking a sip of her coffee. “I mean, I thought we had been raised in the lap of luxury, but…living in this new tax bracket is crazy.”

  “As long as you both come back with all your organs intact, Lorcan can fly you wherever he wants,” I said dryly.

  Rowan rolled her eyes. “If there was ever a man on the planet who’s capable of protecting me and my organs, it’s Lorcan Cavanaugh,” she replied, love lacing her sarcastic wit.

  “Rowan?” She looked over expectantly at me. “For a hookup anniversary? Really?”

  She laughed at that. “He claims it’s the anniversary of when we fell in love.” I just stared at her. “Okay, okay,” she conceded. “It really is silly, but what’s a girl to do.” She shrugged.

  I twirled my mug around with my fingers. We were outside, in my backyard, relaxing on my patio set. While I didn’t live in opulence, I did well for myself. A nice three-bedroom, two and a half bath, front yard, and big back yard, I was happy with my house. When I had first purchased it, I thought it was a great house that would, one day, be a nice home once I filled it with a wife and children.

  “I wonder if…like, after a certain number of millions, your brain short circuits, and you do crazy shit, like take your wife to the goddamn Greek Cyclades for your hookup anniversary,” I joked.

  Rowan laughed. “Well, you have to admit, the wedding was nice. Nothing like the obnoxiously wealthy wedding it could have been.”

  The wedding.

  It was hard not to think about my sister’s wedding without thinking of her new sister-in-law, Molly Cavanaugh. We’d been paired up as part of the wedding party, and even if we hadn’t been, I still would have noticed the woman.

  I’ve run into Molly plenty of times throughout Rowan and Lorcan’s courtship, but Molly has always been so busy with her charity organization, it’d been hard to pin her down in the attempt to get to know her better.

  But I sure as fuck got to know her better the night of the wedding.

  With love and merriment in the air, and a reception with an open bar, drinks had been flowing and the flirting had been on high. After enough eye-fucking to put a strip club to shame, I’d rented us a room at the venue’s hotel, and I had fucked us sober.

  Molly Cavanaugh had this petite, tight, little body, and running my hands all over it had been one of the memories of that night I couldn’t shake. Hell, truth be told, there wasn’t anything about what we did in that hotel room that I’ve been able to forget. Molly had been a hot fuck, and I’ve jerked my dick, several times, to the image of how my large hands were able to cover her tits completely. In fact, I’ve rubbed my shit to a lot of the images of us together that were burned into the back of my mind. And I’ve been with two other women since then.

  After we had finished, Molly hadn’t asked for my number or address or any-damn-thing. She had gotten dressed, smiled her thanks, and had gone about her way. And because I wasn’t one to beg, I had let her go, and I haven’t seen her since. It’s been six months, and just because our siblings were married that didn’t mean anything. People had lives. And besides, if the woman was interested in more than what I’d given her, well, it wasn’t that hard to get a hold of me. Her brother was married to my sister, for fuck’s sake. The only thing that had been lacking from that night was the same thing that was always lacking.

  Freedom.

  As good as the sex had been, holding back always takes away small pieces from the experience. Though I was used to it, when I found myself with a woman I really liked, the urges were harder to control. The absence of complete abandonment felt a little bit heavier.

  I also couldn’t shake the feeling that, even though the woman had cum twice on my cock, there had been several times when she had started to say something, but then would bite down on her lip. Almost as if she were catching herself from accidentally blurting something out in the heat of passion.

  Like she’d been holding back, too.

  “Well, you do have a point there,” I agreed. “Most people with that type of wealth have doves and orchestras at their weddings.”

  Rowan laughed. “I swear to God, if you ever see me beginning to get obnoxious with Lorcan’s money, you better smack me.”

  I cocked my head. “Lorcan’s money?”

  She took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t care that he refused a prenup, Grayson. His money is not my money,” she stubbornly said. “I have a good job that’s been supporting me just fine all these years, and I’m fine with it.”

  “What about when you guys decide to get pregnant? Are you going to still work?”

  “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “It’s different with Mystic and Gage. They loved each other before Gage was worth his gazillions. It would never cross Gage’s mind that Mystic might have married him for his money-”

  “Oh, c’mon, Row,” I interrupted. “There’s no way Lorcan would ever think that of you. He wouldn’t have married you, otherwise. Or at the very least, he would have made you sign a prenup.”

  “I think I just need to get used to it, you know? Right now, we live in his house, he pays all the bills, and I’ve been added to every credit card and bank account, even his freakin’ business ones,” she said. “He’s taking care of me in every way. I just…” She shrugged. “I still have the bank account I came into the marriage with, and that’s the one I spend out of. And trust me, Grayson, now that I have no bills to pay, my income is more than enough for whatever I need.”

  “Except for a trip to the Greek Cyclades,” I teased.

  “Yeah, except for that,” she laughed.

  “So, an entire week, huh?”

  “Yeah, and Molly’s been kind enough to check on everything for us,” she replied. “You know, water the plants and things like that.”

  “I could have done that for you, Row.”

  “I know, but Molly already has a key and all that.”

  I just nodded, and the rest of the afternoon was spent catching up and making Rowan promise to come back in one piece.

  After all, I’d already failed her once.

  Chapter 19

  Molly~

  I’ve been in my brother’s house a million damn times, so it was easy to know what to check on and water the plants. The plants had been a new addition since Lorcan had worked so many hours, keeping something alive would have been futile for the man. As tasteful as Lorcan’s house had been, Rowan had brought life to it, and it was beginning to look more like a home instead of a layout in a magazine.

  After watering everything that was green and living in their home, I did some light dusting, and checked the food in the fridge. Though they were only going to be gone four more days, I still didn’t want them walking in on the smell of stale food.

  Once I was satisfied with everything, I put everything away, grabbed my purse, and got ready to head out. However, heading out ended abruptly when my heel got caught up in the area rug inside the foyer, and in an effort to catch myself, I knocked over a decorative table and everything that had been on it. Including, one of those beauties I’d just finished watering.

  Staring at the mess, I let out a groan. From the loss of the plant or the pain in my ankle, I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t going to leave the mess and I definitely needed to replace the plant and hope that Rowan didn’t have any sentimental attachment to it.

  Oh, God, what if she did?

  My ass still planted on the floor, because the turned over table and ruined plant hadn’t broken my fall, I grabbed for my purse to grab my phone. Pulling it out and testing the soreness of my ankle, I dialed Mystic.

  “Hey, Molly.”

  “That plant in the silverish, bluish pot near the foyer, is that special to Rowan?” I asked, forgoing a greeting.

  “Uh…uhm, I’m not sure,” she answered. “Why?”

  I told her what happened. “I’m at their place, watering their plants, checking on expired food, and all that jazz, and on my way out, my
heel got caught on that stupid Persian Isfahan in the foyer, and everything came crashing down around me.

  “Are you okay?” she automatically asked.

  “I’m fine.” I think. “I just need to know that plant wasn’t some…gesture of sympathy from some dead aunt’s funeral or something.”

  “I honestly don’t know, Molly,” she said. “It’s not anything I can remember talking about.”

  “If it’s just a regular houseplant, I can run out and replace it,” I told her. “But if it’s not, then I need to know how big I should go on the forgiveness diamonds.”

  Mystic laughed. “It was an accident, Molly. I’m sure Rowan will care more that you’re okay than a plant.”

  “Unless it’s her dead aunt’s plant,” I argued.

  She laughed again. “If anyone will know, it’ll be Grayson. Do you have his number?”

  “No. Why would I?” And I winced at little at the automatic defensiveness in my voice. I never told Mystic or Rowan that I had slept with Grayson the night of the wedding. And unless Grayson’s told anyone, it was our dirty little secret.

  “Well, I can call him for you and ask,” she offered. “Or better yet, send me a picture of the plant, so I can send it to him. This way, he’ll know exactly which one I’m talking about.”

  I let out a deep sigh.

  I wanted, so badly, to take her up on her offer, but how stupid and immature would it look if I couldn’t even call the man? He’d had his face buried between my thighs several times that night, it should be no thing to ask him about a stupid plant.

  I closed my eyes and bit the bullet. “No, that’s okay,” I told her. “Go ahead and text me his number, and I can ask him.”

  “Okay,” she agreed brightly. “I’ll send it as soon as we hang up.”

  Five seconds later, my phone lit up with an incoming text of Grayson Lewis’ number, and I typed out a text, butterflies fluttering around in the pit of my stomach.

  But I ignored those.

  Me: Hi Grayson. This is Molly Cavanaugh. Mystic gave me ur number. Hope u don’t mind

  After I hit sent, I felt stupid for including my last name. Granted, it was possible for him to know more than one Molly but including Mystic’s name in the text should have been clarification enough.

  Unknown: Not at all.

  That’s it? That’s all? No wondering why I was calling? I quickly programmed his number in my phone before firing off another text, explaining why I reached out to him.

  Me: Quick question?

  Grayson: Shoot

  Me: Does Rowan have any special attachments 2 any of her houseplants?

  My phone started ringing, and I was surprised to see it was Grayson. I answer though because, well, I wasn’t a complete tool, even though the man had a huge dick. “Hey, Grayson.”

  “Hey, Molly,” he returned. “I hope you don’t mind, but I decided to call you because…well, that’s a weird fucking question.”

  I laughed, easing the tension in my chest. I quickly told him what happened, explaining why I was reaching out to him. “I just wanted to make sure I can replace it with the same thing.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned, very much like Mystic had sounded.

  “I think my ankle might be little worse for wear, but I’m going to put ice on it as soon as I get my ass off the floor.”

  “You’re still lying on the floor?” he asked incredulously.

  “From laziness,” I assured him quickly. “Not injury.”

  I could hear him sigh over the phone. “Look, Rowan doesn’t have any special attachments to plants other than she just likes them. Shoot me a picture and I’ll grab a replacement.”

  “No,” I quickly rushed out. “Grayson, you don’t have-”

  “Send me the picture, Molly,” he said, cutting me off. “And get ice on that damn ankle. I’ll see you in a few.”

  Well, hell.

  Chapter 20

  Grayson~

  I’d be lying if I said my heart wasn’t beating a little bit faster than normal as I rang the doorbell to Lorcan and Rowan’s condo. Though, calling it a condo was like referring to The Hope Diamond as just jewelry. The place was huge, classy, and showcased just how wealthy Lorcan Cavanaugh was to own such a property in Chicago.

  Adjusting the plant in my arm, I was about to ring the doorbell again, when the door swung open, a beautiful, yet ruffled-looking Molly Cavanaugh on the other side. Those grey eyes of her sending an electric shock straight to my dick.

  But I wasn’t here for that.

  I presented the plant to her. “Did someone call for a plant?” Molly smiled, and that shot straight to my dick, too.

  She stepped back to let me in. “Thank you, Grayson,” she said. “Really, I appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem, Molly,” I replied. “I just started my vacation, so I wasn’t doing much.”

  Walking into the condo, I noticed she wasn’t quite limping, but she wasn’t striding smoothly like she usually was. Just inside the foyer, it looked like Molly had done her best to clean up, but have you ever tried to clean up a spilled plant?

  I set the plant on the table she must have righted and glanced back at her. “Go take care of that ankle, and I’ll finish cleaning up this mess.”

  “Oh, no, Grayson, I can-” I speared her with a look, effectively shutting her up. “Fine,” she relented. “But I’m paying you back for the plant and helping me clean up.”

  I almost let out a deep groan.

  I could think of several ways she could pay me back, and they all included having her lips wrapped around my cock. Some of them even included unloading on that fucking perfect face of hers.

  Thinking it was better to keep those suggestions to myself, I went to work on cleaning up the remaining mess that Molly hadn’t been able to get to. With Molly having just watered the plants, it was a bit of a wet mess.

  “How’s your ankle?” I called out.

  “It’s fine,” she returned from somewhere on the couch. “I’ve got some ice on it.”

  When I finished cleaning up and setting everything back to rights, I went to the kitchen and washed my hands. Though it wasn’t my house, or my place, I knew Rowan wouldn’t care, and I imagined Lorcan wouldn’t mind me grabbing some water from his refrigerator if it was to help his sister. So, grabbing two waters, I headed back to the living room.

  Molly was leaning back against the left arm rest, her legs straight along the couch, a plastic bag with ice inside resting on her ankle.

  I handed her one of the waters before lifting her legs, sitting down, and placing them back down on my lap. “Let me look.”

  She sat up straighter. “Seriously, Grayson,” she said. “It’s just sore. Not sprained or broken.”

  Taking the bag of ice off her ankle, I looked for myself. “Last I heard you ran a charity foundation,” I drawled out. “No one told me you had managed to fit in a medical degree in there, too.”

  “Ha. Ha,” she deadpanned.

  I grinned. “Fine or not, I’m not going to be the one to tell your brother I didn’t check on you, knowing you were hurt.”

  “I really am fine, Grayson,” she said, only this time her voice sounded much quieter.

  “I concur,” I replied. “Though I don’t have a medical degree to back up my analysis, but then, neither do you.”

  Molly laughed. “Thank you, Grayson. Even without your medical degree.”

  I just grunted as I pressed around on her ankle, checking for tenderness. I was also doing my best to make sure my dick didn’t harden underneath the machinations of checking on her ankle, but my hands were remembering just exactly what it had felt like to explore every inch of this woman’s skin.

  Admittedly, I had thought it’d be a little awkward since it’s been six months, and the last time I saw her, she was getting dressed after an intense bout of sex, but it hadn’t felt awkward at all. At least, not for me. I couldn’t speak for Molly, but she didn’t seem uncomfortable or out of sorts
.

  Just then, her phone chimed from near her purse on the coffee table in front of us, and when she went to reach for it, I leveled her with a look. “I’ll get it.” With her feet still in my lap, I reached across and grabbed her phone.

  Not meaning to invade her privacy, my eyes landed on the screen, and it was a notification alert from Ques?ionable.com, with an incoming message.

  Ques?tionable.com?

  When I handed Molly her phone, she looked at the screen, I could swear her face flushed a bit. I went back to checking on her ankle, lest I embarrass her or something, and I tried my best to ignore the way her fingers started flying over the screen.

  “Maybe no more heels for the rest of the day,” I suggested. Molly was always dressed impeccably whenever I’ve run into her, and today was no different.

  Dressed in a cream-colored blouse that looked simple, but I bet was worth hundreds, and a pair of black slacks and the cream-colored heels I saw at the edge of the couch, Molly looked like the Cavanaugh she was.

  “Deal,” she easily agreed. “I don’t have any events planned until this weekend anyway.”

  “The tireless work you do, Molly Cavanaugh,” I said kindly, my hands still warm on her legs.

  She smiled, setting her phone on her lap. “But so rewarding.”

  “How could it not be?” I replied. “You help countless number of people.”

  She winced a bit. “Not everyone appreciates the way I help them when it comes to the charities I work with, though.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t just hand over the donation checks and walk away,” she said. “I make sure the money is used for what it’s supposed to be used for.” She shrugged. “Sometimes those with less than altruistic intentions don’t like that.”