by Rhonda James
After making it through three days without headaches, or any other symptoms, my doctor gave the all clear for making the drive up north. He also told me that sex would be okay. I made him write that down just so I could prove to Laney he said it. He wrote the note on his prescription pad so I joked and told her he prescribed it as part of my recovery.
I hope she bought it.
“You’re not nervous, are you?” I reach over the console for her hand and bring it to my lips.
She makes a face, and her nose crinkles in the cutest of ways. “A little.”
I chuckle softly and kiss each knuckle individually. “I promise they’re going to love you.”
“How do you know that? If they ask me what I do for a living, how am I supposed to answer? What if they take one look at me and decide I’m not good enough for you?”
My jaw hardens, and I glance in her direction. Her thumb is in front of her mouth, the nail perched between her teeth as she chews it. She’s actually worried about this. Does she really believe that shit?
“That ain’t gonna happen,” I ground out. “If anything, you’re too good for me. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. If they ask, then you tell them whatever you’re comfortable with. I’ll support whatever decision you make.”
I try focusing on the road as I wait for her to respond. I may be taking her to meet them, but I honestly don’t give a shit what they think of her. I don’t need their seal of approval to know she’s it for me. Nothing or no one can ever make me think differently.
She unfastens her seatbelt then flips the center console out of the way to rest her cheek against my arm. I curl my free hand around the back of her head and lower my lips to her forehead.
She makes a sound—a cross between a moan and a sigh—and laces her fingers with mine. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I hope I never stop doing it.”
“I could say the same thing about you. I know I don’t deserve you, but I thank God every single day for bringing you into my life.”
She tucks herself against my side, and I drive with my arm wrapped around her. Every now and then she’ll lift her lips for a kiss. It’s a good thing there isn’t a whole lot of traffic, because a few of those kisses get pretty heated.
Three hours into the trip, we pull off to stretch our legs and use the restroom. I finish first and head back to the truck to wait. The sun was out when we left Ann Arbor, but darkness has fallen and with it came cooler temperatures. When she climbs back into the cab, she rubs her hands together while her teeth chatter. I reach over and take a hand in each of mine to help her get warm.
“Aw, baby. You’re freezing.” I move to turn up the heat, but she squeezes my fingers and scoots in my direction.
“I’d be much happier if you were the one warming me up,” she flirts.
Considering it’s been a week since she let me see any action, she doesn’t have to ask twice.
My arms curl around her waist, and she sighs contentedly. Her breath is hot against my neck as I recall the last time we made love. I say made love, because that’s what it was. It isn’t just sex any longer. Three little words changed everything. Made things better.
Heated kisses tease against my flesh as my fingers curl beneath her arms, lifting her into my lap. I drag my fingers through her hair as our mouths press together. Her lips are soft and pliant, tentative in their approach yet full of need. Her tongue slides over my teeth, and I moan happily.
I tear my mouth away and kiss down her neck, sucking the supple flesh, biting when I need a taste. Her moans fill the cab of my truck, while her fingers fist my sweatshirt as she fights to keep me in place. She doesn’t have to worry. I don’t want to be anyplace else. Everything I ever need is in my arms.
I work my way back to her mouth, craving the sweetness of her watermelon-flavored lips.
I rip my mouth away and reach for the control to push the seat farther back. Now that I have more room to work with, I reposition her on my lap. Her hands tug at the back of my hair as I kiss along her jaw. She leans back against the steering wheel and rocks her hips back and forth, rolling her center over the full length of my hardened shaft.
“I want you, Laney,” I confess.
She lowers her chin to meet my gaze, and I stare deeply into her coffee-colored eyes. “I want you, too,” she whispers.
Overcome with need, I grab the hem of her sweater and pull it over her head. Her arms go behind her and her bra straps slide down her arms, revealing the milky white flesh of her full breasts. She’s changed jewelry. Gone are the fun little hockey sticks. But I love what she’s wearing now. A simple barbell capped with a blue heart-shaped gemstone on each end.
“I wanted something less obvious.” She offers a half-hearted shrug and worries her bottom lip. “Are they okay?”
A low growl echoes in the back of my throat. “Fuck, yeah.” I capture her nipple between my teeth, licking the outer edge. Her head falls back, and I suck the flesh deep inside my hungry mouth. I savor every inch of her nipple, showing her just how much I love the new adornment.
I can feel the heat pooling between her legs, hot and heavy, as she rocks her pussy over my rapidly growing cock.
My fingers tug at the waistband of her pants, needing to touch her. Be inside her. She stops what she is doing to slide off my lap and crouches over the seat to remove the rest of her clothing. While she wriggles free, I pop the buttons of my fly and shimmy the material down to my ankles.
Before she climbs back on, I reach for my wallet and pull out a condom. My fingers work quickly to tear open the package and sheath my throbbing cock.
“Hurry,” she pleads.
Once finished, I fit my hands in the curve of her waist and position her opening over my tip.
“Love you, D,” she whispers then sinks down, taking in the entire length of me in one fluid movement.
“God. Damn. Baby.”
“I know.” Her body trembles above me. “Don’t hold back. Okay?”
“Never,” I growl and thrust deeper. So deep she shudders and moans in my arms.
We stare at each other while I’m buried inside her, our bodies moving together effortlessly. Her lips part on a moan as I reach between us to wet my finger and circle her swollen clit. Teasing the hardened bud between my fingers.
Our tongues tangle in a sloppy kiss that matches the frenzied rhythm of our hips. While her tongue circles around my mouth, I roll the barbell back and forth between my fingers until her eyes meet mine and I know. I know she is right there. I hold her hips, lifting her above me then slamming back in. Once. Twice. Three times. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
Her forehead falls against my chest, and her inner walls clench tightly, bringing forth an orgasm that rocks us both until we’re shaking and out of breath.
I cradle her in my arms, knowing we should probably get going, but still not ready to let her go. She nuzzles her cheek to mine and kisses the corner of my mouth, where she whispers.
“I really hope they like me.”
I kiss her softly then smile against her cheek. “I know they will. They’ll love you because I love you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
LANEY
“Your mom hates me,” I hiss once the door to his bedroom is closed. “I was afraid this would happen.”
Derek places our bags on the floor then locks the door and leans against it.
“She doesn’t hate you.” He approaches me.
“She so does. Did you see the face she made when you told her we were sleeping in the same room?” I use the side of my fist to punch him in the stomach. He grunts as if I injured him. Good. “Now she’ll think we’re down here having sex.”
I bend over to retrieve my bag from the floor when his arms catch me from behind.
“Let her think what she wants, ‘cause that’s exactly what we’ll be doing down here.” He presses his length against my ass and starts pumping, moaning loudly as if we really are having sex.
; “Stop that! She might hear us. Or worse, what if she comes down here and catches us?”
“Trust me, she can’t hear anything,” he whispers suggestively in my ear.
“Oh, really?” I spin around in his arms. “I take it you know this from experience? Just how many girls have been in this room?”
“Enough for me to know this house has state-of-the-art sound proofing.” He brings two fingers up to his lips and wiggles his tongue between them.
“That’s disgusting.” I give him a shove.
“Come on, baby. You know you love me. I’m like the puppy you can’t resist.” He pants like a dog then licks the entire length of my cheek.
“If you tell me I have to potty train you, I’m walking straight out of this house and hitchhiking back to Ann Arbor.” I smack his ass on my way to place my toiletries in the bathroom. He follows closely behind and peers at the items I dump on the counter.
“Where’s my shit?”
“Your shit is still in your bag, because you’re taking it with you upstairs.” I cross my arms over my chest to show him I mean business. He merely laughs and shakes his head.
“Why on earth would I sleep upstairs? This is my room and that’s my bed. I’m sleeping here.” He falls back on the bed and tucks his hands behind his head.
“Fine. I’ll just go ask your mom where she’d like me to sleep.” I make like I’m reaching for my bag.
“Whoa. Whoa.” He leaps from his bed and removes the bag from my grasp. “Let’s not make any hasty decisions here.”
He studies me thoughtfully, and then a look of understanding crosses over his features.
I’m not happy about the idea of sleeping without him, but I desperately want his mother’s approval. Over the last week, I’ve grown accustomed to waking up in his arms. His injury may have been minor, but I am having trouble shaking the memory of seeing him on the ice, flat on his back and motionless. In fact, those five minutes of uncertainty had felt like a lifetime. I can’t bear the thought of losing him. Not when I just found him.
“Hey.” His arms circle my waist once more. “If it means that much to you, I’ll sleep on the sofa. That way, I can still be close to you.” He drops a kiss on the tip of my nose.
“It’s not like I want you sleeping on the sofa, but it may help my predicament,” I offer hopefully.
“I swear, woman. The things I do for you.” He threads our fingers together and steps forward until our toes are touching.
He presses forward until I feel the hard length of him pressed against my belly. I stretch up on my toes and wrap my hands around his neck, loving the way his warm skin tingles beneath the pads of my fingers.
He kisses me hard and deep as his fingers dig into my flesh, pulling me closer still. A low growl vibrates through his chest, and I shiver when his fingers slip inside my panties and tease the length of my cleft.
We tear apart, panting, the kiss ending as abruptly as it started. I gaze up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, feeling punch-drunk on kisses and high on love, and wishing we could stay this way forever.
“I promised Mom we’d be up for dinner like ten minutes ago. We better head up there before she sends out a search party.”
He chuckles deeply when he hears my disappointed whimper.
“I just want her to like me,” I whisper.
He smiles and kisses my forehead. “Aw, sweetie. Give it time. After all, she’s been the only woman in my life for twenty-two years. I’m afraid it may take longer than fifteen minutes for her to warm up to the idea of someone taking her place.”
“Ew. That just sounds weird.” I try wiggling free, but he keeps a firm grip on my hips.
“Why is this so important to you? Do you think I’ll stop loving you if they don’t give me their stamp of approval? ‘Cause that’s never gonna happen, baby.”
He guides me backwards until the backs of my knees meet the firm mattress and I fall back. His knee is wedged between my legs, and he uses his forearms to brace himself over me.
“Do me a favor.” His eyes implore mine. “Be yourself and stop worrying about what they think. What we share involves two people. You. Me.”
“If their approval isn’t important, then why’d you bring me here?” I ask hesitantly.
“Would I like their approval? Hell, yes, I would. But these last few days with you made me realize what others think doesn’t matter any longer. What matters is what this is telling me.” He places my hand over his heart and covers it with his. “You’re all that matters now. As long as I have you, I don’t need anything else.”
“You already have me.” I fist his shirt in my hand and lean forward, capturing his mouth in an all-consuming kiss. A kiss that tells him I’m not going anywhere. When we break apart, I cup his face in my hands and repeat the words. “You already have me.”
***
“So, Laney, why don’t you tell us about yourself? Where did you grow up?” Derek’s dad, Elliott, asks as he passes me the potatoes.
“Well,” I place the dish of potatoes on the table and think for a moment. “I was born in Atlanta, but my family relocated to the Ann Arbor area when I was seven.”
He finishes chewing and keeps his fork hovering in front of his mouth. “That’s quite a distance. Why Michigan?”
“My dad worked construction, and at the time, the housing industry around Ann Arbor was booming. I guess he thought he could give his family a better life by moving.” I fork a piece of steak in my mouth and silently pray this won’t turn into the Spanish Inquisition.
I don’t mind talking about my childhood. Truth be told, I had a great childhood. Mom taught dance, and I used to love watching while she went through the various dance steps of ballet and jazz. I admired the graceful way the dancers’ bodies moved to the music, the way they dressed in leotards and wore their hair in a bun. They were so elegant. I remember staring longingly through the beaded curtain, remember thinking one day I would be just like them.
Just like her.
Dad was always working, helping to build someone else’s dream home while banking away money to build Mom’s. On Mom’s thirtieth birthday, Dad packed us in the car and drove us out to a piece of property just outside of Dexter. He led us out into the center of the lot and handed Mom a birthday card. I remember her crying as she read it, then jumping into Dad’s arms before he spun her around. He’d given her a piece of land with a promise to build whatever style home she desired. She’d chosen a white farm-style design with yellow shutters.
I’ll never forget the day we moved in. Mom cried the entire day. I kept asking why she was so sad, and she replied they were happy tears. At the time, I was only nine, so the only tears I’d ever known had been of the unhappy variety.
I’ve since learned differently.
“Do your parents still live in the area?” his mom asks.
“Mom,” Derek cuts in, giving his head a subtle shake to halt her prodding.
“What? Did I say something wrong?” she inquires innocently.
He opens his mouth to respond, but I give his hand a firm squeeze under the table. It isn’t her fault she doesn’t know about my parents.
“My parents died in a car accident two years ago,” I quietly admit.
I hate this moment. That brief flash of pity that crosses over people’s faces when they realize the gravity of what they’ve just heard. They go from shock to acceptance then pity all in a matter of seconds. No matter how long it takes, when you’re in these situations, all you can do is wait it out, because the inevitable questions are sure to follow. So you better be prepared to answer them.
“Both of your parents are deceased?” This is the clarifying question; just to be sure they heard you correctly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So, you were only nineteen and left alone. How do you pay for school? Did they have a life insurance policy to care for you?” This is the nosey question, and it’s none of their damn business, but I always answer to be polite.
“They certainly did, but it was used to pay off debt.”
“Well, where do you live? How do you get by? You must work. How can you do that and attend school?” These are the pity questions and are most likely asked to make those who are asking feel better about my situation.
“Mom, what are you doing?” Derek pleads and takes my hand in his. “Laney, you don’t have to say anything.” He pushes away from the table like he is about to leave, but I give his hand a firm tug.
“No, really. It’s okay. I’ve been through this before.” I offer him my best smile and place his hand on my thigh.
I’ve decided to be honest about what I do for a living. With all the secrets I’ve been keeping lately, being upfront about something seems like the right thing to do. I’m sure it won’t win me any brownie points with his parents, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. Derek’s hand drifts over my leg and finds mine. He threads his fingers through mine and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
He may not know it, but right now, his hand feels like the last remaining part of my armor.
“I get by okay, I guess. I dance at a club four to five nights a week to pay for school and living expenses. And I live at home, in the house my dad built for us.” I keep my head high and make sure to maintain eye contact; that way they’ll see I’ve got everything under control. I don’t want to give Cecilia Davis any reason to think I’m a gold digger. That has been one of my greatest fears about coming to meet his parents so soon. I can see why she would question my intentions. After all, I’ve only known her son a short time and the L-word has already been dropped numerous times.
Derek’s body tenses beside me, and he narrows his eyes in confusion. “Babe, you live at your parent’s house? I thought you lived near campus?” I can’t help noticing how his mom watches his reaction with great interest.
“Actually, sweetie, I live in the dorms part of the time and the other nights I go home.” I give his hand of squeeze of reassurance.
“How is it you’ve been dating for nearly two months yet you don’t know where she lives? Surely, you must have picked her up for a date at some point.” Cecilia pours herself another glass of wine as she continues to observe us.