Something Tattered (Joel Bishop Book 1)

by Sabrina Stark

  With me still cradled in his arms, he turned and pulled the door shut behind us. Soon, he was moving again, striding toward the main stairway.

  I was still laughing, and it struck me how long it had been since the house had been filled with anything like this – the sounds of laughter, the anticipation of something wonderful, and the sensation of strong arms holding me like I weighed next-to-nothing.

  At the stairway, he turned and began taking the stairs two at a time, shocking me with how easy he made everything seem. In utter amazement, I teased, "Do you do this often?"

  "The steps? Hell yeah." He kept on going. "But like this? Nah." His voice softened. "Just with you."

  The first half of his claim, I entirely believed. But the second half? That it was only with me? Well, that seemed way too far-fetched. Still, I loved the sentiment and pressed myself tighter against him.

  Step after step, I felt his muscles moving against my side, smooth and effortless as we neared the top of the stairway. Obviously, he hadn't been lying. He was no stranger to steps. In my mind, I could practically see him, running up and down some stadium bleachers, shirtless and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

  Over the past week, my mind had been filled with thoughts of him, and now, some of those thoughts were becoming reality – a wonderful reality that felt more like a dream.

  At the top of the stairs, he said, "Which way?"

  I lifted my hand and pointed toward the open doorway down the hall. "There."

  He moved forward, and soon, we were entering my bedroom, which was arguably one of the best bedrooms in the whole place. It was spacious and inviting, with large windows and a set of double balcony doors that overlooked Lake Michigan.

  The lights were off, but the curtains were open, leaving the room bathed in a wash of pale, welcoming moonlight. Wordlessly, Joel moved toward my double bed and gently placed me on the quilt that I'd been using as a bedspread, ever since my first winter alone.

  I realized that I was no longer laughing. I couldn’t. Not anymore. I was too excited and breathless with anticipation. Desperately, I reached up with both arms and smiled when he lowered himself down next to me.

  I turned toward him, and soon, we were kissing again. His lips were warm and wonderful, and I felt his hands caressing my back, and then move lower, skimming across the thin fabric of my shorts. His touch sent my pulse jumping all over again, and I wanted to be ten times closer.

  I pressed my hips tighter against him, and felt the hardness of his arousal press against my stomach. If I weren't so lost in his kisses, I might've smiled. He wasn't the only one who was ready. I felt my own readiness inside me, slick and welcoming, wanting him with my body as much as with my heart.

  Beyond eager, I reached between us with both hands and fumbled with the button of his jeans. But almost before I knew what was happening, his arms reached tighter around me, and he rolled us sideways until I was lying on my back with him on top of me.

  My hands – so near to his pelvis just moments earlier, were now lying loose and empty on the soft fabric beside me. There was no way to reach that button now.

  Damn it.

  He lowered his head and nibbled at my earlobe. Into my ear, he gave a playful whisper, "Not so fast."

  I was so excited, I could hardly speak. "I was fast?"

  "Nah." His tongue grazed my earlobe. "But we're gonna take it slow anyway."

  I didn't want to take it slow. I wanted him now, this instant. Breathlessly, I asked, "Why?"

  "Because you're the sweetest thing I've ever seen. Which means…" His lips grazed my ear. "I'm gonna take my sweet time."

  He moved downward, and I felt his lips tickle my neck and then my collarbone. He reached up with his hand and gently tugged at the collar of my loose T-shirt, exposing more skin to his lips and tongue.

  His kisses were soft, and his tongue was teasing. There was nothing X-rated about any of this, and yet, with every kiss and every caress, my breathing became more shallow, and my hips became more insistent on rising against him in a desperate bid to lure him closer.

  Just when I thought I'd go utterly insane, he shifted his body to the side until he wasn't lying so much on me, as next to me. With a slow, lingering touch, he reached for the lower hem of my T-shirt. With the fabric tucked between his fingers, he ran a warm hand up my torso, skimming across the side of my stomach and then higher, until my torso was nearly bare, and his hand curved around the side of my breast, which was covered only with a thin, silky bra.

  He moved the cup aside, and I felt the exposed nipple harden in the cool night air. Or who knows, maybe it was already hard. All I knew for certain was that I ached for him, both inside and out.

  I lifted my head, hoping to get a better look. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could see his mouth, curved into a slight, secret smile, like he was thinking of things he shouldn’t say out loud.

  I could so relate.

  Still, I couldn't help but whisper, "What are you thinking?"

  He lifted his gaze to mine, and in those soulful eyes of his, I saw raw lust, along with something more tender. It was the tenderness that almost did me in.

  Yup, this definitely felt like a dream, a wild and wonderful dream, starring me and this incredible guy who, even now, was driving me crazy with anticipation.

  He still hadn't answered my question, but he also hadn't looked away. So I waited, breathless and eager, until he finally said in a tone that was almost teasing, "I'm not gonna tell you."

  "What? Why not?"

  "Because," he said, inching his hand a fraction higher, "I want to keep you guessing."

  Before I could even think to protest, I was rewarded with the feel of his fingers grazing my nipple. I gave a muffled moan and lifted my torso higher, desperate again for more of his touch.

  His voice was quiet in the moonlit room. "See?"

  "See what?"

  "You." His fingers toyed with the nipple until it hardened so tight that it nearly ached. "So sweet."

  In a breathless whisper, I admitted, "I don't feel sweet. Or even nice."

  "Yeah?" He lowered his head and, through the thin fabric of my bra, traced the other nipple with the tip of his tongue. "How do you feel?" He moved the fabric aside and took the nipple into his warm mouth. And then, he sucked lightly. I gave a soft moan of pleasure and let my eyelids flutter shut.

  I knew exactly how I felt – hungry and desperate for more. But I didn't know how to say it in a way that wouldn’t sound ridiculous, so I settled on the next closest thing. "Happy."

  His tongue was playing across my nipple now, teasing and tantalizing until I felt nearly crazy with desire. I could hardly breathe, and I could hardly think.

  But I did know that it wasn't a lie. I was happy, happier than I'd been in a very long time.

  I was even happier a moment later, when he moved lower on the bed, reached for my shorts, and gave them a soft tug downward. Soon, he was sliding them down my thighs, past my knees, and over my ankles. Silently, he tossed them onto the floor beside the bed, leaving me in just my panties and the jumbled fabric of my bra and T-shirt.

  I couldn’t even remember what panties I was wearing. But I did know they weren't anything fancy – just a basic cotton bikini in blue or maybe pastel pink. Hoping to see, I lifted my head for a quick glimpse. In the near-darkness, I couldn’t distinguish the color. But I could see Joel's face.

  He looked anything but disappointed. I felt myself smile as I wondered what he was wearing under those jeans of his. I said, "Now you."

  He moved higher until we were almost within kissing distance. "Now me what?"

  "Well, my pants are off…" Again, I lifted a hand toward his button. But already, he'd moved out of reach. I almost laughed. "You're such a tease."

  He smiled. "I know."

  And then, almost before I knew it, he was tugging down my panties and tossing them somewhere onto the floor. I felt his fingers, warm and smooth, stroke the inside of my thigh.

  Breath
less with anticipation, I savored the feel of his touch, gentle but persistent, as his fingers inched slowly higher, stroking and teasing near the intersection of my thighs. My hips rose in a silent plea for his touch to move higher, to zero in on that spot where I ached.

  And when he did, I sucked in a breath of pure bliss. Dimly, I was aware that I was practically naked, and he wasn't. Not even close.

  I wanted to see him naked. I wanted to feel him naked. I wanted to be with him naked.

  But as his fingers moved, coaxing and teasing sensations out of me that I hadn't realized were possible, I didn't have the will to lodge any further complaint. So I let myself get lost in the sensations – the stroking, the teasing, and finally, the feel of one long finger sliding into me.

  His voice drifted up to me. "You're so sweet."

  No. I wasn't sweet. Not now. I was wet and ready, and desperate to have him inside me. But I couldn’t say it, because my stomach was clenching, and my hips were convulsing as I rose up, meeting the magic of his touch.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I considered lunging for that button of his, popping it loose and ripping down first his zipper, and then his jeans – making him as naked and wanton as I felt right now.

  But soon, I didn't have to, because he was already doing it. In a haze of bliss and lust, I watched, breathlessly, as he stood and tugged down his jeans, along with his briefs, and then tossed them onto the floor.

  He was massively hard, and I couldn’t wait to have him inside me, even as the remnants of all those wonderful convulsions did funny things to my insides.

  Gaining some semblance of control, I reached out and tugged at the hem of his T-shirt. I wanted to claw it from his body and leave it scattered in shreds on the bedroom floor. And then, I saw something in his hand, a little foil package that he must've retrieved from his pocket.

  Knowing what it was, I sat up and snatched it out of his hand. "Let me."

  He didn't argue, and I sat up straighter. Trying to be careful, I tore at the little package and pulled the condom from inside, leaving the foil container to fall wherever. Wanting to feel him first without anything between us, I reached out with my free hand and gave his hardness a long, smooth stroke.

  I heard a muffled moan and looked up to see his eyelids drift shut and a soft smile curve his lips. I stroked him again, and gripped his shaft, and felt his hardness surge in my eager touch.

  I didn't want to make him wait. I didn't want to make me wait either.

  So I rolled the condom onto his length, and smiled with anticipation when he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself above me.

  Beyond eager, I reached between us and guided his hardness to my opening. He lowered his hips just a fraction, giving me only a promise of what I wanted. I wanted all of him, every single inch. In a desperate bid to be closer, I lifted my hips, and sighed with pure bliss when I felt more of him slide into me.

  He lowered his head until our lips met in a ragged kiss that he timed perfectly by giving me exactly what I wanted – his whole length, massive and hard, filling me completely, almost too completely at first.

  But I loved it – the sweet ache of utter fullness. And then, he started moving – his lips, his hips, his hands. And I was moving, too. I reached up under his shirt and ran my hands along his back, feeling his muscles shift and move in time with our motions.

  Desperate to feel his skin on mine, I yanked his shirt upward as far as it would go and pressed tighter against him. Next time, I silently vowed, I'd make sure that both of us were naked, completely naked, because even this, as wonderful as it was, felt like it wasn't quite enough.

  I almost wanted to smile. Next time. There would definitely be a next time, as sure as the sun would rise and the tide would go in and out.

  When I reached my next climax, he was right there with me, filling me, kissing me, claiming me, until I was utterly lost to everything but him.

  We spent the next few hours in utter bliss, with more sex, a bubble bath for two, and finally, the sweet serenity of sleeping in Joel's arms, more content than I'd ever been in my whole adult life.

  And I had him to thank – not just then, but early the next morning, when trouble, once again, arrived on my doorstep.

  Chapter 52

  I was standing in the front doorway, squinting in the morning sun. In front of me, Derek looked fresh and professional in a dark business suit with a classic red tie.

  I didn't care how professional he looked. I still wasn't happy to see him, especially considering that Joel was still upstairs, after reluctantly – very reluctantly – agreeing to let me handle this on my own.

  I gave Derek a cold look. "What are you doing here?"

  Derek looked toward Joel's car, parked just a few paces away. He turned back to give me a smirk. "I see you have company."

  In spite of my best intentions, I felt color rise to my face. Obviously, Derek knew exactly what I'd been doing last night, and who I'd been doing it with.

  But so what? I was an adult. This was my house, at least for now. And I had nothing to be ashamed of. I lifted my chin. "That's none of your business."

  Derek made a scoffing sound. "Right."

  "It's not," I insisted. "And while we're on the topic, I didn't appreciate your note."

  "Yeah? Well I didn't appreciate the thing with your car."

  Now, it was my turn to scoff. "You're one to talk."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning, why'd you lie to me?"

  "About what?"

  "About the car needing a new engine."

  "I didn't lie," he said. "It was a mistake. Beatrice confused the message."

  Beatrice was the law firm's receptionist. She also acted as the receptionist for interviews related to the endowment. I liked her. And I highly doubted that she had anything to do with this.

  "Oh, sure," I said, "blame her." My tone grew sarcastic. "That's ever-so nice of you."

  "You wanna hear what's nice?" Derek said. "Getting a call from Biff, telling me your car was stolen. Yeah. That was fun."

  "Yes. It was." I smiled. "For Biff. Because he didn't consider it stolen."

  "Yeah? Well, he should've."

  "And besides," I continued, "the way, I hear it, he was actually pretty happy."

  "Well, he wasn't when I got done with him."

  My smile faded. "What do you mean?"

  "It means that he surrendered the car without written authorization. You do realize he'll be billed for that."

  "By who?"

  "By the lawn firm. My time isn't free, you know."

  "You can't charge him," I said. "It's not even your car."

  "But I still had to deal with it. Long story short, we're billing him for an hour of my time."

  "Fine," I snapped. "I'll pay it."

  "Oh yeah?" His lips formed a sneer. "How?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I mean, you've got no money." His gaze dipped to my skimpy shorts and tank-top that I'd pulled on just before coming down. "So, unless you plan on paying the bill with something else…" His words trailed off as his gaze shifted to something just past my right shoulder.

  Behind me, I heard Joel's voice. "You sure you wanna finish that sentence?"

  In front of me, Derek's mouth tightened. "I was only going to suggest that she sell a painting or something."

  What a crock. I couldn’t sell a painting. The paintings, like everything else, were part of the estate. But I didn't argue the point, mostly because I didn't want to throw gasoline on the proverbial fire.

  Even now, I couldn't bring myself to look behind me. When I'd left my bedroom, Joel had been half-naked, after practically jumping into his jeans to confront Derek.

  I'd stopped him then, but would I be able to stop him now if things got ugly? I didn't even want to speculate. With my eyes still on Derek, I said, "You need to go."

  "Yeah, whatever," he said. "I've got better things to do, anyway." And then, true to his word, he turned and stalked back to
his car, got in, and slammed the driver's side door behind him.

  When he fired up the engine, I finally turned toward Joel. He didn't look happy, but at least he was dressed.

  In addition to the jeans, he was wearing the same shirt as last night and even shoes. He looked perfectly respectable. Still, I had to ask, "Why'd you come down?"

  He frowned. "You've gotta ask?"

  "But you told me you'd stay upstairs."

  "Yeah, I did."

  "So why didn't you?"

  He moved closer. "You think I'm gonna sit up there and let him talk to you like that?" He joined me in the open doorway and eyed Derek's car as it sped down the long driveway. "Sorry. Not gonna happen."

  Was he really sorry? I highly doubted it. And maybe I wasn't sorry, too.

  In spite of all the drama, I actually felt kind of lucky, and not only because last night had been so wonderful. It was because if it weren't for Joel, Derek would probably still be here, berating me on my own doorstep.

  I looked to Joel and said, "Probably, I should thank you for sticking up for me."

  "Forget the thanks." He smiled. "But you could stop giving me grief about it."

  He definitely had a point, which is probably why an hour later, we were swapping more secrets than I'd anticipated.

  Chapter 53

  We were just finishing breakfast out on my back patio when Joel said, "I've gotta ask you something."

  Soon after Derek's departure, I'd whipped up a batch of scrambled eggs and toast, and brought everything out here so we could enjoy the fresh air and view.

  I'd been reaching for my juice glass, but stopped in mid-motion. "Sure, what?"

  "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

  Suddenly, I wasn't thirsty. I set down my glass. "No. Why would you ask?"

  Joel gazed at me for a long moment. "Why won't you answer?"

  "I just did." I summoned up a smile. "Everything's fine."

  "Yeah? Except you're lying."

  I drew back. I might've been angry, except it didn't sound like an accusation. Mostly, it sounded like a statement-of-fact, which sadly, it was. "So what if I am?" I straightened in my chair. "And that reminds me of something."