by S. Ann Cole
The audiobook automatically paused for an incoming call. Davian. Oh jeez.
I sent it to voicemail—as I’ve been doing for the last two weeks. He wanted Jacob and I wasn’t interested in going back home, so he was blowing a gasket.
Zachary Webber’s sexy-as-all-hell voice resumed narrating again, seducing my eardrums, only to be interrupted a minute later by a text message.
I said ONE month. It’s been two.
Bring my son back, Ally!
Or I’m coming there to get him myself. And it won’t be pretty if I do.
Deleting the text, I popped out my earphones and set the phone aside.
“Your father’s pissed,” I told Jacob as I wrapped him in a towel and lifted him out of the tub.
“Pisst?”He had a cute little look of confusion on his face.
“Yep. He’s pissed. Crazy pissed.”
His eyes widened. “Pisst. Ian is pisst!”
Laughing at his wide eyes, as though he knew what Davian being pissed meant for me, I proceeded to the bedroom, dried him, dressed him and laid in bed with him.
“I have a bedtime story for you, son of a rock star,” I whispered.
In a moment of peace and contentment, a moment high on hopes and what-could-be, I settled in and told him the whole story of how I met his father, got knocked up, got abandoned. How I met Xavier, and that we were going to be spending our lives with him, that he was going be his other daddy. He listened with bright eyes as if he understood all I was telling him. Repeating words and phrases in his own twisted tongue. Cheating me out of turning the lights out.
I didn’t mind, though, because I was enjoying every second with him, and so, my baby and I talked about the past, the now, and the what’s to-come, until we both fell asleep. Lights on.
Hunger woke me some time in the night. The bedside clock read 12:27 am. Damn, I’ve been out for longer than I intended.
Jacob was still sound asleep, knees drawn up beneath him and his butt pointed up in the air.
The house was quiet, with nothing but the soft humming of the heater. I knew for a fact that Mick and Chloe were fast asleep. Both were early risers, and could be found snoring in bed at nights by nine, the latest. I was the one who could be found roaming around the house at midnight.
Stifling a yawn, I slipped out of bed and stumbled out to the kitchen in search of food. My stomach growled loud enough to make me glance around with widened eyes, making certain no one was up to hear that, because damn if that wasn’t embarrassing.
Making as little noise as possible, I whipped up a quick sandwich with a piece of the ham left over from dinner and scarfed it down while still standing, too hungry to be decent about eating. I did sit to finish the huge mug of sweet cocoa I made to wash it down.
Once full and satisfied, I turned out the lights and started plodding back to my room. At the end of the hall, I paused and looked to the left, which led to Xavier’s room. Judging from the midnight quietness, he was asleep, too. What was the harm of taking a little peek?
Tiptoeing down to his room, I found the door ajar. No sounds came from within, but Xavier wasn’t a loud snorer. Unable to stop myself, I gingerly pushed the door a little wider so I could slip in.
His bedroom was dark with only the glowing numbers from the bedside clock, but the slip of light sneaking in from the hall was enough for me to make out two folding crutches propped against the nightstand, which meant he must have removed the prosthetic leg.
Knowing he always slept on the left of the bed no matter where he was, I sidled to the right, drawing close enough to make out his form under the sheets. He was on his back, arms folded on his torso like a mummy. I paused, listening for his breathing in the silence to determine the level of sleep he was in. Light or deep. His breathing was even, and I could make out the rising and falling of his chest.
Safe, I decided. I needed an hour. Just an hour of listening to his heartbeat, of feeling his breath on my skin. Just an hour of being reminded what it felt like to be close to him. Just one stolen hour. A secret hour.
Carefully, quietly, I slipped in bed and under the sheets with him. Then paused. Waited. After confirming he was still asleep, I snuggled closer, as close as I could get without waking him.
A satisfied sigh flowed from me. He smelled good. So good. Warm, with a faint trace of hot cocoa. I could fall asleep right there and never wake up.
“You wanna know why I refused to see you?”
Startled by his voice, I stopped breathing. What? He was up?
Drawing back a few inches, I braced myself for another blast of rage, another slew of heart-slicing words, but they didn’t come.
What came was his hand snaking out to grab me, tugging me back to him. Closer this time. Tucked into his side.
Okay. So…he wasn’t mad? He wanted me to stay?
Then I got it. The bastard.
He did this on purpose. Lured me in. Left the door ajar. Feigned sleep. Set a trap for me. And like the greedy little mouse that couldn’t resist the damn cheese, I nibbled and got my tail clamped.
“Didn’t wanna see you,” he continued, making it clear his question was rhetorical, “’cause I knew I’d lose. One look at you and I would’ve given up on everything I know is wrong and right, and choose you. Like I always do. Always let you win. Always bow to you. Wanted to break that pattern. Wanted to get you outta my veins. So… told them to keep you far from me. ‘Cause I’m weak to you. No masculinity, no power, no will when you’re around. Was tired of feeling like a balls-less pussy. Was tired of letting you win. Chino, my head, my thoughts, my heart, my veins…full of you. All you.”
Focusing on my breathing to deter hyperventilating from his words, I touched my palm to his chest but said nothing, mainly because I had nothing to say. Except that, I wanted to hear more. Because Xavier rarely opened up emotionally, so whenever he did, I savored it.
“Fled L.A. ‘cause everything there reminded me of you,” he went on. “Wanted to escape it. Wanted to be somewhere where there was no mention or memory of you. Flew for half a day to escape you…and there you were. Ten goddamn feet away. Heartless black eyes slaying me.”
I laid my head on his chest. Listening to his heartbeat. Thump. ThumpThump. Thump. ThumpThump…
“And…how did that make you feel?” I broke my vow of silence.
“Weak, at first. Defeated. Angry.” His chest rose and fell with a sigh. “Not entirely at you, but mostly at myself. For not being stronger than your love.”
“But it’s you who gives my love strength, Xavi,” I informed him. I rose up on my forearms, searching for his eyes in the darkness. “You’re not weak. Never. You’re my Samson.”
“Perfect example.” He made a derisive scoff. “Love weakened him so much he gave up the secret of his strength. He lost. Just as I did. Didn’t lose by losing a leg, Chino. Didn’t lose by leaving the band. Lost by loving you.”
“How is loving me losing?”
“Because you’re a liar. A cheater. Disloyal. Untrustworthy. Selfish… And my only weakness.”
I rolled off him and onto my back, admitting, “I am all of those things.” I didn’t know how not to be. The thing was, I believed I was all of those things by blood, and not by heart. I tried to change and failed. I tried to get help, but these unwanted attributes were inherited. I knew someone who was all of those things and more, and he didn’t apologize for it. Cousin Chad. Unlike him, however, I was apologetic about who I was but couldn’t change.
After a few minutes of defeated silence on both sides, Xavier’s hand found mine under the sheets, lacing our fingers together. “You searched for my heart when I shut you out.”
“I did.”
“You found it, and you stayed.”
“I did.”
“You confuse me.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“You hurt me.”
“I never meant to.”
“Can’t trust you anymore, Chino,” he confessed. “Don’t thi
nk I’ll ever be able to again, to be honest.”
Shifting onto him, I straddled his hips, palms pressed to his chest, wishing I could see those silver eyes, but at the same time terrified to turn on the lights and see more than just silver there. Like pain. I didn’t want to see pain.
“Then don’t trust me,” I whispered into the darkness. “You don’t even have to love me. Just stay with me. Let me love and trust for both of us.”
He sighed. “And what kind of future does that leave us?”
I leaned forward, finding his lips with mine in the dark, kissing him deep, but unhurried. He groaned in my mouth and I drew back a quarter of an inch.
“Promise me you won’t make any decisions tonight,” I begged against his lips. “I wanna show you something in the morning. You can decide afterward.”
“Show me what?”
“A dream.”
“Wha—” I kissed him again, shutting him up, and his hands settled on my hips before slipping around to my ass.
I rocked against his erection, twisting my fingers in his hair, kissing him like it was the last time. He showed no less fervor than I did, as though sharing the same thought: This could be the last time.
His hands drifted up to my shoulders, sweeping down the straps of my dress and finding my breasts, cupping them, kneading. I arched into his hands, smoothing my palms over his pecs.
We both fumbled in the dark like horny teenagers, neither interested in switching on the lamp. I shifted and tore down his pajama bottoms, found his erection and fisted it, stroking. Like a crackhead, I inhaled deep at his familiar weight and heat in my hands. God, I’ve missed this man. Missed this size.
Unable to wait a moment longer to have it inside me, I hiked up my dress and shifted my underwear aside. Sparing not another second, I hungrily sank down on him. All of him. Crying out in sheer joy at the feel of him—his ridiculous size—filling me.
“Ohgod, Xavi,” I gasped, wanting to sing with happiness, to recite a poem.
Just as I was about to begin the ride o’ pleasure, to ride us both to Jupiter and back, Xavier clamped his hands on my hips and stilled me. He curled up his torso and drew back against the headboard with me still on him.
I waited impatiently for him to find a comfortable position. Not annoyed, just hungry. I knew that of all the adjustments to be made on account of his missing leg, sex positions would be the biggest of them all. I had no problem with that.
Once his hands left my hips and drifted up to my breasts again, I bit my bottom lip and my eyes rolled into the back of my head as I resumed the journey to Jupiter.
So good. So, so good, I chanted in my head.
With a low groan, Xavier whispered, “Chino?”
“Hmmmmmm?”
“Thanks for never asking about my leg.”
“What about your leg?” I paused, frowning, even though he couldn’t see it through the darkness. “Is something wrong with your leg?”
He chuckled something soft and sweet, something low and deep. “Truth is, losing to you is more victory than defeat.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
UNLESS BY CONTRACT, I WASN’T AN EARLY RISER.
That said, I was up before everyone else in the house the next morning. Enthused, unrestrained, embracing the burn between my legs. A sweet reminder of what it felt like to get screwed with a real dick. A leg was gone, but the dick was healthier than ever, still inflicting euphoric internal damage.
I snuck out of bed and smiled down at my two favorite men. Upon Xavier’s insistence that we sleep in his bed last night, I’d went to fetch a sleeping Jacob. Tucking both of us on either side of him, he’d mumbled, “This” and fell instantly asleep.
With careful, quiet movements, I pried open Xavier’s chest box at the foot of the bed, stole the blueprint, scurried off to my room, and hid it in one of my overly large handbags.
A permanent grin on my face, I scampered around like a spring chicken, showered, made myself pretty, and then prepared breakfast.
Chloe was the first one up, as usual—it was expected of her. She found me in the dining area setting the table, breakfast already prepared. She blinked at it all, seemingly unsure what to do with herself. This was her job, after all.
“Never had a morning off?” I asked her when she just stood there watching me.
She shook her head and I laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not taking over your territory. I’m just in a good mood this morning. And when I’m happy, I always make breakfast.”
“And when zu…not happy?”
“Starbucks.”
Her mouth formed an ‘O’ as she finally moved from where she’d been planted and came to help me set the table.
Mick was up some minutes later. Not long after that I heard Jacob’s cheeky giggle traveling from Xavier’s room.
Abandoning Mick and Chloe, I skipped off to Xavier’s room to get Jacob. I found him on the floor at the side of the bed poking at Xavier’s prosthetic leg as he, with gentle care and focus, attached it to his stump.
Seeing his leg like that again in its raw realness was saddening. Knowing that without that makeshift leg, he was damaged goods.
But not unwanted.
Not rejected.
Not unloved.
He was my damaged goods.
Mindful not to let him catch me staring at his leg, I walked inside the room and bent at the waist to pick up Jacob from the floor.
“Leave him,” Xavier said without looking up from his task. “We were bonding.”
“We wert bonden!” Jacob agreed.
“He was poking you,” I said. “Repeatedly.”
Task on pause, he looked up at me under his brows. “Leg’s fake, Chino. Can poke all he wants. Not feeling it.”
“You want help with that?” I asked, jerking my chin at his charge. Yet I regretted asking the second the words were out of my mouth. The last thing I wanted was to make him feel like less of a king.
His attention went back to his leg. “Not a goddamn invalid.”
“I-I was just—”
“No,” he bit out, the word a cold, bitter sting. “Don’t need your damn help.”
And there it was. I just ruined everything.
I lingered in front of him for a few awkward seconds, noting the sudden sharpness and aggressiveness in his movements which had been gentle before.
Unsure of what else to say and at the same time not wanting to say anything else to further darken his mood, I turned and left the room. Safer choice.
We made love last night. We slept together. We talked. But it didn’t mean things were good with us again. He hadn’t made a decision about me yet. I’d begged him not to. And I didn’t want to push my luck. So, giving him some breathing space, some headspace to remind himself that he might be broken but not unfixable, was indeed the safer choice.
Sagaciously, I forwent breakfast and took my time bathing and grooming Jacob instead. Clipped his nails, cleaned his ears, and brushed his hair…
When I ran out of things to do, I inconspicuously slipped into the kitchen to get the breakfast platter I’d prepared for Jacob earlier, and fed him on the couch in the living room.
I could hear them in the dining room laughing and jesting over breakfast like a joyful family. A family I wasn’t a part of.
Yet.
Breakfast seemed to go on forever in there, or maybe it was just me, vibrating with impatience to haul Xavier out and convince him to choose me, again. One final time.
Over an hour later, Mick and Xavier finally dragged themselves into the living room. I kept my focus on Jacob, building blocks with him on the carpet, pretending I wasn’t hyperaware of every breath Xavier took.
“Chloe told us you’re the one who made breakfast,” said Mick around a mild cough, easing down into his recliner across the room. “Why didn’t you eat with us?”
“I wasn’t hungry,” I lied. I’d been starving, but had settled for picking off Jacob’s platter.
Mick gave me a “ye
ah, right” eyebrow arch and reached for his pipe on the side table.
“Said you got something to show me?” Xavier grunted from above me. He was still wearing his bad mood like an ominous black hoodie, but his tone wasn’t as biting as it had been earlier.
Instead of craning my neck to look up at him, I flicked my gaze to Mick. As I expected, he was quick in noticing my intent and gave me an almost imperceptible nod of approval.
“Uh, yeah,” I replied. “Lemme go grab our coats.”
Mick chipped in, “I’ll keep the boy until you kids get back. It’s too cold out there for him.”
Xavier frowned. “What you wanna show me isn’t here?”
“No.” I stood.
Mick leaned forward, held his arms out, and beckoned Jacob.
Scrambling up with a big grin, Jacob pattered across the room and straight into Mick’s arms.
Chasing after him, I cupped his face and smacked kisses on both his cheeks. “You could show a little less enthusiasm about getting away from me, son.”
“I luv a‘kay?” Hmmm. I was beginning to think he used that line on me whenever he felt guilty.
“Love you, too, son of a rock star.”
Straightening, I avoided eye contact with Xavier as I all but jogged to my room to get my coat. Just in time to catch my phone dancing across the dresser. Davian. It had to be.
Shrugging on my coat, I walked over to the dresser and scooped up my phone. Six missed calls. Not from Davian. From Xena.
There were also two text messages:
Alina, I need your help.
Please call me.
******
Hey, I know we’re in the middle of a war, and yes I’m still mad at you, but Xavi has run off again. Dad said he’s not with him this time. We’re really worried. And I don’t know where else to look.