“What is it?” I stop with the glass next to my lips.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Hales,” he says low, causing immediate tension, tension that keeps on building while Daniel takes his time weighing his words.
Once he finally opens his mouth to speak a short chime interrupts us from under the table. I look at him warily; I can’t help feeling concerned.
What does he have to tell me, especially looking this grave? He twists his mouth and curses under his breath something incoherent about timing as he breaks our intense eye contact. Fetching his phone from his pocket, he checks the screen, then answers with an annoyed air. Right after a short exchange of single words in his ragged trait that don’t make much sense to me, he suddenly loosens up and chuckles, then hands me the phone with an amused half-smile.
“For me?” I ask, surprised.
He nods and takes a swig of his drink, ending it with a lick of his lip.
“Hello?” I answer tentatively, my eyes still roaming over Daniel, who is now doing a mighty fine job of inhaling the food on the table.
“Gorgeous!” Ian’s cheerful voice nearly punctures my eardrum, channeling my full attention to him.
“Hey, you.” I pull the devise away from my ear, fearing further possible damage.
“So, there's a rumor going 'round here about termites invading the Windy City.” I giggle, recalling Ian's absurd theory that Daniel and I are one another’s termites with the ridiculous logic that terminates mate for life.
“Well, I can certainly validate this rumor for you,” I respond, glancing at Daniel, and am rewarded with his trademarked lopsided, bad boy grin from above a burger.
“I told you,” says Ian. I can almost hear his smug smirk over the phone. “And I couldn’t be happier for you guys. Did you already have makeup sex?”
“Ian…” I scold him teasingly, stirring the liquid in my tall glass.
“If you haven’t, take shots and send me dirty messages.”
“I’ll make sure to add it to my to-do list.”
Dread settles over his voice as he asks if we've heard anything about Steven.
“He's alright,” I answer calmly.
“Oh really? That's great. How d’you know?” he asks, with noticeable relief.
“My amazing boyfriend.” I smile at Daniel, who counters with a nibble of my neck. I purr, and Ian says, “Okay now, I wanted visual material, not audible, you tart.” I giggle and let Daniel continue his tongue's tour of the spot behind my ear.
“Gorgeous, I’m glad for you, and glad I won't have to convert after all.”
I snicker. “I love you too, Ian.”
Daniel’s expression as I turn to hand him back his phone makes me freeze for a beat. His eyes on me are so intense that for a moment I’m worried. His expression turns a shade somber.
“What?”
“You know Hales...” He takes my hand in his. I study him, concerned. “The first time I kissed you,” he pauses, lost for a moment, “...it was like, I don’t know...” His eyes melt into mine. “I felt connected, to… fuck, anything, for the first time.” I nod, fully understanding what he's trying to convey not so coherently. And seal my acknowledgment with a kiss.
Daniel and I pass the next few hours lost in our own universe, talking about the time we spent apart, even the smallest details. We embrace, strolling barefoot on the sandy coast of Oak Street Beach. Though I'm supposed to be used to this town, having lived here for the greater part of my life, every time I visit it I'm taken by the contrasting beauty of Lake Michigan against the spectacular view of the city skyline.
When the sky darkens and the sun slowly descends, we finally leave for my parents’ house. I have to spend some time with them and pack before going back home. We still have a few hours before our redeye back. On the short drive back Daniel makes a quick call to arrange for my ticket to be upgraded so we would be sitting together.
Chapter 3: Meet the Parents
“Mom, Dad, I’m back,” I call out as we enter my parents’ house.
“Lely, the dryer should be done in ten so you can start packing. When did you start wearing all this skimpy underwear?”
Daniel snorts, and I exhale audibly, sending my eyes to the ceiling.
“You can skip those, too. I'd rather have you naked twenty-four seven,” he mumbles into my ear. He gives my butt a thorough, slow caress that sparks an immediate frisson up the small of my back.
“I’m not alone,” I yell back.
My mother peeps her head out from the corridor and smiles, her kind freckled face alight with warmth. “Oh, you do have company.”
“Nice to meet you Mrs. Grace.” Daniel stretches his hand out as she gets nearer. It’s kind of funny watching my mom trying to “subtly” study him. The curious thoughts that run through her are anything but invisible. Her smile literally glows as she meets Daniel’s hand with her own.
“Same here,” Her eyes shamelessly run the length of him, again. “Oh, and please call me Julie.” She flashes Daniel the sweetest smile and glances at me pointedly.
Oh well, here goes… “This is Daniel, my boyfriend.”
“Oh, then I’m even more glad to meet you now, Daniel, Hayley’s boyfriend.”
Daniel rewards my mother with one of his hang-tight-you're-about-to-be-swooned smiles.
“So you have a boyfriend now, Lely.” She frowns at me slightly, reaffirming what I've already gathered: I’ll have some explaining to do.
“Are you from around here?” she asks as she gestures for us to come in, leading us to the living room.
“No, I’m actually from San Francisco.”
She glances over her shoulder at the both of us and I feel obliged to add some explanation.
“Daniel flew in this morning. He was the one who brought the news about Steven.”
“You flew all the way here to deliver firsthand news?” She raises an incredulous eyebrow, eyeing him for a short moment. “Which, by the way, I couldn’t thank you enough for.” She watches us with unconcealed curiosity.
“No need, I’m glad I could help.” Daniel gives my mother a gentle smile and a nod. “Besides, I missed Hayley and wanted to be there for her.” He sends a downcast glance my way.
Can she sense something wasn’t kosher between us? My mother smiles warmly and squeezes Daniel’s palm in silent gratitude before gesturing for us to be seated. For a space of a minute we lose her as she absently, almost inaudibly, murmurs, “Though I need to see my kid in the flesh before I can actually stop worrying”
“Where’s Dad?” I ask, shaking her out of her short muse. We might as well get that second intro out of the way while we're at it.
“With a patient. Some emergency.” She crooks her mouth as if to say again. “He should be back soon. What are you both drinking?” she asks. She's still gaping at Daniel while she waits for our replies.
“Coffee would be great, thanks ma’am.”
“Same here.”
When she turns toward the kitchen, Daniel mutters, low enough just for me to hear, “Would have been better if they knew about me Lely, wouldn’t it?”
I slightly twist my mouth, but have to agree he has a case.
“You made your point.”
He smiles at me but the smile stays on his lips. Let. It. Go.
“Can I leave you here for a few minutes and go tell my mom about how amazing you are?” I give him my sweetest cajoling grin and a nudge. He sighs, his smile warmer now.
“Sure.” He starts checking emails on his phone.
“How long?” My mom asks with no preface as I enter the kitchen. She doesn’t look at me, but remains engaged with the four white ceramic mugs she fills with warm water from the kettle.
“For a while now.”
“Hmm, mmm.” She twists her mouth in a disappointed frown.
“I just wasn’t sure how serious it was.” I try to wheedle, but she stops and turns to look me square in the eyes. Straightening an invisible wrinkle in her
white cotton dress, she says, “Flying all the way here for less than a day seems quite serious on his part.” Her undertone doesn’t stir me much, as I'm too caught up in how his actions translate his feelings for me.
“Well, you know what, Lely? As long as he puts this kind of happiness on your face I’m glad for you, and the rest doesn’t really matter.” She kisses my forehead and stirs the steaming coffee, sending its strong aromatic roast fragrance into the air. Confident I got this one smoothed, I return to join the man in question, who regards me with a tender stare.
“You two will make such beautiful babies.”
Holy Hell, where did that come from?
My mom couldn’t look more confused and ashamed as she stares at us with big eyes from the corridor, tray in hand. I’m pretty sure she didn’t intend to say that one out loud. And if she weren't holding that tray, her hand would probably fly up to cover her mouth. Innocent or not, I could still strangle her.
I shift in my chair, hoping I was the only one who actually heard that, knowing fine well I wasn’t.
“True, we would, ma’am,” Daniel says in a clear voice, giving her a megawatt grin while grazing my knuckles with his thumb. Both my mom and I flash him awkward, dismayed glances. He turns to look at me and a hint of a mischievous smile flickers at the side of his lips.
“We would. Look at you.” He shrugs. The side smile turns into a full smirk, to my discomfort. I don’t know exactly where it's coming from, but a short heat wave spreads across my cheeks, which prompts my mom to swallow her own wide smile and look away, highly amused.
My dad, entering the room, watches the three of us, his eyes narrowed in noticeable displeasure.
“Dad!” I jump to my feet, not sure why. Perhaps the mildly aggrieved look he has on is my trigger.
“This is Daniel.” Daniel stands to shake my father’s hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Dr. Grace.”
My dad tilts his head up a little to glare at Daniel, glare, eyebrows gathered above half-moon glasses.
“Daniel is Hayley’s boyfriend,” my mom fills him in knowingly. It seems as though something registers in my dad’s head when he nods. “Right. Nice to meet you, Daniel.”
My mom is her usual cheery self, just like before the pre-bad-news state, asking questions and subtly trying to gather more information about this 'boyfriend' thing we’ve thrown at her. Given the fact I haven't brought anyone home since high school, her piqued curiosity is very understandable. After a few lingering moments in which she asks about how we met, I patiently fill her in, intentionally skipping the not-so-good-for-your-mature-heart anecdotes. I volunteer information about our trip to Baja. I'm blabbering, uncomfortable with the stress my dad infuses to the atmosphere while he scrutinizes Daniel.
Dad listens straight-faced, and doesn't seem very inclined to warm up. I’d say his eyes are about to burn a hole in Daniel’s chest with their hostility. Daniel and my mom, though engaged by my chatting, occasionally send my unreceptive father suspicious glances that don’t escape his notice, nor mine. Finally my dad coughs to get our attention and shifts his tense posture slightly toward Daniel. He asks, “So, what do you do for a living, Daniel?”
Is he really going to start one of these conversations?
Daniel’s expression morphs into cynicism. I’m pretty confident he’s rarely been asked this. People tend to recognize him. Is my father really ignorant of who he is? I find that very hard to believe, being the news addict he is. I can’t fathom what might be going through his head right now. Whatever it is, it doesn’t look or sound like an attempt at a warm welcome.
“I’m into software, internet security.” Daniel plays along nicely.
“A programmer?”
I practically spit my next sip of coffee into the cup.
“Among other things.” Daniel’s voice doesn’t hide his amusement.
“What other things?”
“Dad?”
Daniel turns my way, his brows furrowed, slightly tilting his head as if to tell me “it's okay”.
“Daniel owns Stark Software, Dad. You know, the leading internet security company…”
“You do look familiar... I thought you might be one of them celebrities,” my father says, deadpan. His expression turns into borderline disgust.
The hell?
The shift in Daniel’s blasé mood after my father’s backhanded accolade is near palpable. I can almost hear the sound of the grenade pin dropping to the floor seconds before the explosion.
“Well, I’m not that gifted, sir.” Daniel says dryly.
I rest my hand on his thigh and squeeze it gently, trying to soothe him, maybe transmit my gratitude. He puts his hand over mine and squeezes it back.
My father scrutinizes our physical connection. His stare on our joined hands, he asks, “So, you're the one who made Hayley run back home upset?”
Oh my, that’s where the resentment is coming from.
Daniel darts a narrow glance at me that clearly says, “That part you didn’t fail to tell, huh?” —but before either of us manages to come up with a response my mother gives my father a warning look and says, too sweetly, “Derek, I need a hand in the kitchen. Now.” My father's reluctance is ridiculously obvious, but he stands and follows my mom, staring suspiciously and displeased at Daniel. As if his next move will be pointing two fingers at his own eyes and then at Daniel's.
What the hell happened to my poised and polite father? What’s up with the obsessive-compulsive protectiveness?
By my side I can clearly see Jekyll wrestling Hyde, trying to prevent a fight.
“So, he does know about me?” Daniel asks as soon as they both leave toward the kitchen, withdrawing his hand away from mine. His expression is somewhere between a touch irritated and fully annoyed. “I assume not by the good chapter of our story,” he adds, scornfully.
“No, that's not it. When he first saw me he thought I looked upset, and he came to the conclusion that it was because of a guy himself. I never elaborated.”
Daniel nods blankly, his jaw ticking as he thinks.
“Sorry, I didn’t think he’d act this overprotective. This is so out of character for him. I am actually as surprised as you are,” I whisper.
Daniel shrugs. “I would castrate anyone who got within two feet of my daughter, so I've got to give it to him for not taking out his shotgun yet.”
And how Daniel of him to conclude it this way.
Before my parents can come back to join us I call to the kitchen that I'm going to pack and hastily lead Daniel up to my room. A break is definitely in order.
As soon as I lock the door behind us I can feel the physical tension we always have between us charging fast, faster than ever. It feels as though there's a magnetic field drawing us toward each other. Every aspect of him is so noticeable to me now, from the way his shirt is molded to his chest, to the way his soft hair falls on his forehead, to the scar on his brow as his eyes bore into me.
In that way.
He moves his stare from me to scan the room, which seems to shrink from his virile physical presence.
“A trip to young Hayley’s world.” His lips quirk up to a half smile as he studies some photos of me from high school that are pinned to a corkboard with some other keepsakes. There are ancient concert tickets, a worn-out friendship band that I got from some BFF in junior high whose name I can’t even remember now, and a piece of paper with a quote from one of Bon Jovi’s songs that I lived by. Daniel traces the bold letters written in my younger self's round handwriting on the yellowed, crumbled piece of paper and says, “Quite a strong quote to hang on a teenager’s wall.”
“At the time it made lots of sense,” I say, nostalgic.
“Salvation caught the last train out of town?” He turns to look my way with an arched brow. I shrug.
“Let’s leave psychoanalysis to some other time.” I implore him with my expression.
“I can do that.” His voice becomes lower and deeper now as he sau
nters slowly toward me, clear intent in his pointed hazel stare. “Something else you have in mind, Miss Grace?” In less than a heartbeat and without waiting for a reply, he closes the gap between us. He bends down slowly til he is planted between my legs as I recline on my childhood bed. My heart starts to pound. It's been much too long.
He inclines toward me, his hands pressed to the sides of my shoulders, propping him above me. He lightly presses his thigh into my middle, which starts to throb, heated. His eyes level with mine, he pauses for a moment, watching me with palpable lust.
“If there’s something I wanted since the moment I saw you today…” His voice is hoarse.
“Same goes here.” My faint whisper echoes his tone, and I swallow hard. My eyes travel to his lips. He bends lower and presses a kiss full of longing to my eager mouth. I gasp with an instinctive want, the kiss scorches all the way to rest of my body. When he gradually descends to rest his full weight on me I flinch from the sudden sharp pain in my ribs.
“What is it?” he asks in alarm.
“It’s just this small bump I got from a surfing accident.” I suck in air, trying to soothe the pain. He looks at me with concern and shifts back to sit astride my thighs, at a careful distance, inches above me. Very gently he pushes up my shirt into a crumpled heap of fabric below my breast, and cautiously lifts the gauze underneath. His face twists with pain as he sees the dark purple kaleidoscope that decorates my wound.
“It looks worse than it actually is.” I try to ease the distress he radiates. He shakes his head with closed eyes.
“Hales.” My name is more a gasp than a word. From above me, refraining from pressing my sore ribs, palms spread flat at my sides, he slowly lowers his chest until his mouth is inches from my pulsing lips. His lips brush mine softly, and an electrical current flickers from my lips to my core as the tip of his tongue traces the edge of my mouth. His warm tongue presses my lips, spurring them to open and allow it entry.
As my mouth opens his tongue doesn’t immediately reach in but in gentle strokes caresses the tip of mine. Our breaths blend; I compulsively swallow the air hard, all the way to my lungs. His teasing touch transfers a charged current to the tip of my tongue, driving me insane with the necessity to feel all of his tongue against mine; I slide mine inside his wet, warm mouth with a moan, uniting us fully in a kiss.
Inner Core: (Stark, #2) Page 3