Birthday Girl

by Penelope Douglas

  I almost laugh through the tears drying on my face. “By all means,” I taunt. “I’m dying to see how you try to take control of me. You can’t even get Cole to do his chores, and when was the last time a woman got hot in your bed? You’re not even a man.”

  He growls and slams his palm into the house in front of me.

  I jump.

  And the next thing I know, his hand is in my hair, and my head is being twisted to the side as his lips crash down on mine.

  I whimper, the feel and taste of him flooding me so hard my clit pulses between my legs. Oh, shit. My eyelids flutter closed, the heat and adrenaline diving from my chest to my groin in the span of a second.

  He pulls back. “Fuck.” And his fist tightens in my hair.

  But he comes back in, his mouth covering mine, demanding more, and I can barely catch my breath. I’m hot all over.

  He tastes so good. Feels so good. It only takes a moment, but my brain finally kicks in, and I reach around, taking the back of his neck and kissing him, too.

  His hand grips my waist, and I can feel his fingers slide under the red silk strap of my panties peeking out, winding his hand once in the fabric like he’s getting ready to yank it off.

  My pussy throbs at the thought. His tongue is hot and demanding, flicking in my mouth and playing with my own, and when he pulls back just a hair to nibble my bottom lip, I shift on my tiptoes, feeling the warm slickness ache between my legs.

  Oh, God.

  He moves from my lips to my cheeks, leaving kisses along my jaw and back down to my neck. I can only arch it to give him free rein.

  And I smile on the inside. He does want this. He wants me.

  My skin buzzes, the hair rising on my arms, and I break out in chills at the feel of his hands starting to explore as much as his mouth.

  I press my ass into his groin and feel the ridge of his cock, hard and tempting. He pulls his mouth away, groaning at my nudge.

  “Jordan,” he gasps, his eyes closed and brows etched in pain. “Fuck, we can’t do this.”

  I turn around, arching up on my tiptoes and matching my forehead to his with my hands at his waist. “I know,” I say. “I know.”

  God, why did this have to happen?

  I hover over his lips, feeling for them as his warm breath makes me want to wrap myself up inside of him. “I know,” I whisper again. “I ruined it, didn’t I?”

  We’re victims of circumstance. At least I can feel confident that I would’ve liked him no matter what. If he were any other guy who came into my bar, sat down, and talked to me, I would’ve wanted him. He can be gruff, and he’s way out of practice dealing with people, but I’m happy around him, and I like that the only thing he seems to need from me is my presence. He’s happier with me here.

  “You need to not fight me, okay?” I tell him. “I’ll go to my sister’s tomorrow, and I’ll be more than fine. You don’t have to worry about me. I never should’ve stayed—”

  Suddenly, though, he grabs the backs of my thighs and lifts me up, forcing my legs to wrap around him. Planting me against the wall, he peers up at me and shakes his head. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  And then he darts in, capturing the underside of my chin in his mouth. I gasp, my head falling back and my lids closing, as he bites and kisses, sending tingles down my arms.

  I grip his shoulders and give in, squirming against him and craving the friction of him between my legs.

  One of his arms holds me up while the other trails to my bra strap, pulling it down, so he can kiss the skin on my shoulder.

  I pant, desperate. “Take it off. Please.”

  His hand goes to my back, but instead of unhooking me, he yanks at the strap and pulls it down. I’m only bare for a moment, though, before we both hear a door slam inside the house and startle.

  “Dad?” Cole calls. “You up?”

  “Shit,” Pike hisses under his breath.

  “Oh, God.” I squirm out of his hold, and he releases me. I dive down, gathering up my shirt and shoes again, holding them up to cover myself. I see the kitchen light pop on through the back door, and I swing around the side of the house, hiding just out of sight.

  My heart is pounding in my ears, and I can’t swallow. I peer around the corner at Pike, and he’s looking around like he’s not sure what to do, but he finally grabs the hose, still running water, and continues washing off his already clean arms and hands.

  “Yeah, out here!” he calls, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  I hear the screen door creak open, and I slink back, making sure I’m out of sight.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” I hear Cole ask.

  I hurriedly re-hook my bra and pull on my damp T-shirt again.

  “Just cleaning off,” Pike answers. “The river nearly flooded the harbor today. I tried to call you.”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  There’s a moment of silence, and all I can hear is the running water spilling onto the now-flooded grass.

  “Where’s Jordan?” Cole says.

  “I don’t know…inside?”

  My eyes fall and guilt hits me like a stab. He’d had to lie to him.

  I mean, of course he would. I would’ve, as well. But the reality sinks in that I can leave Cole and walk away and life will go on. Pike can’t do that. That’s his son.

  “You staying?” Pike asks him.

  “Just picking up some stuff,” Cole explains, sounding solemn. “I don’t think she’ll want me around for a while yet. Thanks for letting her stay here.”

  Pike’s voice is barely above a whisper. “It’s not a problem.”

  There’s more silence, and then I hear the water shut off and some shuffling.

  “She really took care of me when …” Cole trails off and then continues, “when I couldn’t stand to have anyone else around. I never wanted to hurt her.”

  Needles prick my throat. Everything is so messed up, because I don’t know how angry I’m allowed to be.

  He did it right under my nose. For weeks.

  But in my heart, I wasn’t faithful to him, either.

  Somewhere down deep, we always knew this was finite.

  “You can come home,” his father says quietly, almost pleading.

  But Cole doesn’t respond, and I wish I could see his face. Is he looking at his father? He can’t meet peoples’ eyes when he’s upset or sad.

  “What are you doing?” Pike asks him, so much sadness in his voice. “What are you doing with yourself, huh?”

  I hear a sigh and then Cole says, “I’ll talk to her. Eventually.”

  And then the screen door falls shut, flapping against the frame, and I slowly peek around the corner, seeing Pike standing alone in the spot where I left him.

  His brow is etched in pain, and he’s staring at the ground. His head turns slightly toward me, though.

  “He doesn’t treat you right, and he should,” Pike says, his face ridden with guilt. “But this can’t happen, Jordan.”

  I press my teeth together, tears lodged in the back of my throat.

  I know.

  I know.

  Pike

  I can feel her. Her warm legs snaking through and over mine between the sheets, and she’s hot and wet between her legs as she grinds on me. I grab her by the hips and flip us over, yanking down her panties and diving down, taking her in my mouth.

  God, her moans are so sweet, and I don’t want to ever leave this bed. I want to do nothing but feel her and taste her and smell her, make her smile and sweat and come. She’s mine.

  But suddenly, my eyes pop open, blinking into the early morning’s dim light.

  I’m alone, and I breathe in through my nose, chasing her smell in the dream.

  I close my eyes. “Jesus,” I pant, licking my dry lips.

  I fist my hands, still feeling her ass in my palms, and I need her. I need the same soft body I had in my arms last night so badly my jaw aches from clenching it.

  Rubbing the sweat off my
neck, I peer down and see my dick tenting the sheet.

  Fuck.

  I need to get laid. That’s all there is to it. Jordan isn’t special.

  She’s not.

  She’s a hot, young woman living in my house and constantly in my face, walking around in her short shorts with her long legs, perky ass, and lips that taste like a fucking peach. It’s like putting a steak in front of a starving pit bull and saying “don’t touch.”

  I groan as my dick swells with blood, growing even harder.

  God, if I called her in here right now, would she come? I’m tempted to take back what I said last night, I want back what I had in my hands that much.

  But no.

  I’m already aching with guilt, and losing control and going further with her would do a world of hurt. Last night was simply the result of not being fed in too long. Nothing more.

  Christ, she’s a kid. If she were two years younger, I could go to prison for what I almost did to her last night.

  I need to get this out of my system.

  Throwing off the sheet, I get out of bed and pull on some boxer briefs and jeans. After throwing some cold water on my face, brushing my teeth, and running some gel through my hair, my dick has calmed down enough to leave my room. I pull on a T-shirt and the rest of my stuff that I’ll need for work and walk out of the room.

  If Cole hadn’t come home when he did…

  I jog down the stairs, pushing it out of my head. I just hope she doesn’t think she needs to leave on account of this. It probably would be for the best, but I don’t want to be another person she can’t count on.

  In the kitchen, I pour myself a cup of coffee and open the fridge, looking for the milk.

  I pinch my brows together, shifting cartons around and only finding almond milk. I take it out and wrinkle my nose, studying it. Almonds produce milk?

  Jordan. I roll my eyes and uncap it, sniffing it. “Hmm…” It doesn’t smell bad.

  I shrug and pour it in the coffee.

  Picking up the mug, I slip my other hand into my pocket and lean against the counter, blowing on the coffee.

  I hear Jordan’s footfalls on the stairs, and my stomach twists as I blink long and hard to brace myself.

  She breezes into the kitchen, lifting her eyes and meeting mine long enough to give me a quick, curt half-smile before trailing around the table and pulling her book bag off a chair.

  She seems in a hurry.

  I force the words out. The sooner we deal with it, the sooner we can get back to normal. “I’m sorry about last night,” I tell her. “It was my fault, and it shouldn’t have happened. Okay?”

  Her hands slow, and I see her eyes shift as she digs in her pack, but she doesn’t look at me.

  She pulls the zipper closed and straightens, heading toward me and pulling open the fridge.

  “I gotta go,” she says.

  I watch her warily. She doesn’t seem mad. She just seems nervous. Maybe she was waiting for me to take the lead to see how to handle this.

  Or perhaps she wants to act like it didn’t happen at all. Maybe she regrets it.

  Do I regret it?

  Yeah. Yeah, of course I do.

  But I enjoyed it, too. The need to take her up to my bed and savor every second and every inch of her was like looking forward to heaven last night. I wanted it. I couldn’t wait.

  And I wouldn’t have stopped. My muscles hurt just thinking about what I was going to put my body through to enjoy every moment with her.

  But even without Cole, she’s still half my age. Nothing about this is right.

  “You’re a beautiful girl, Jordan,” I say in nearly a whisper, “but you are just a girl.”

  She pauses at the fridge next to me, and I see her swallow. She’s so pretty. Hair clean and flowing, make-up subtle with just a hint of pink on her lips…

  “My head wasn’t straight,” I explain. “We’re both lonely, and I’ve loved having you here so much the boundaries got blurred. It won’t happen again.”

  She nods, and her gaze drops. I wish I knew what she was thinking. It’s not like her to be so quiet. Does she hate me?

  “It’s okay,” she says gently.

  But I shake my head. “It’s not. I don’t expect that from you. I want you to know that.”

  God knows she gets enough of that shit at work.

  Taking her apple and bottle of water, she turns and walks for the table, picking up her bag. She can’t have class this early, but I’m not about to question her like it’s my business. I’ve done enough to her the past twenty-four hours.

  I watch as she leaves the kitchen and enters the foyer, pulling her house keys off the hook. She reaches for the door but stops, pausing.

  “My hands were on you, too,” she says.

  And then she pulls the door open and walks out, closing it gently behind her.

  I stare after her, the empty space making me suddenly want her back.

  “Don’t say things like that,” I mumble to an empty house.

  If I know you want it, too, how will I be able to resist you?

  “You sure you don’t want to come?” Dutch asks.

  I shake my head, tossing my gear into the bed of the truck. “Nothing sounds worse than a bar full of people and pre-frozen mozzarella sticks right now,” I tell him. “I have a date with a leftover calzone in the fridge.”

  Todd passes by, laughing. “I’ll bet calzones taste even better with a certain barefoot blonde making them, too.”

  My neck heats up from the teasing. I don’t think anyone knows Cole isn’t staying at the house right now, but Jordan’s and my interactions haven’t gone by unnoticed. Poker night, the lingerie show, her bringing me lunch…. The guys are drawing their own conclusions, I’m sure.

  And actually, the calzones were take-out from a couple nights ago, but yes, Jordan’s not working tonight, and I’m anxious to see how she is. And to—hopefully—get back to normal with her.

  Not too anxious, though. I kept the guys an hour later today on purpose, because while I’m dying to see her, I don’t want to be dying to see her, and I needed to prove that I have some control over myself.

  Dutch pulls on his baseball hat, shooting me a half-smile like he agrees with Todd, but I just frown and climb into my truck. I don’t need the mental image of Jordan walking around my kitchen in her bare feet, bending over counters to grab things, and doing that cute thing she does where she blows her hair out of her face, but it just falls right back into the same spot again.

  We can live there, and our lives will continue until she gets her own place. She’ll go to school and work and once in a while a guy just may come by to pick her up, and I’ll carry on, too. I’m a single man. She has to expect I’ll be out with a woman here and there. It’s fine, and it’s as it should be.

  If she were ten years older, though…

  I smile to myself, finally feeling like I got my head back on straight. I twist the key, starting the engine, and pull out of the lot, making my way home.

  I’m glad I didn’t try to get out of the site right away at five. And all in all, I did well. I was the one who stopped things last night, right? Twice? I have a moral compass, and while it wavered, it found true north. Eventually.

  And I’m only human. Would anyone not notice how beautiful she is?

  I blow out a breath, turning on the radio as I coast into town and wind through the neighborhood streets.

  I need a date. I’ll just twist, wind, and mold what happened with Jordan last night as some six-minute fluke under the full moon and go back to being…her, like…elder and shit. Just a responsible adult she relies on for guidance. That’s it.

  She’s not a woman, she’s not experienced in the world, and I’m not the man who’s going to marry her or give her kids. I have no right to her.

  I take a deep breath, feeling ready, and pull onto my street and up into my driveway. It’s just after six, Jordan’s VW is here, but that doesn’t mean she is. I told her not to driv
e it yet, but she could be with her sister.

  I park and grab my lunch box before climbing out of the cab. Reaching into the back, I pull out my tool belt and swing it over my shoulder, walking across the lawn to the porch stairs.

  But I see something out of the corner of my eye and turn my head, seeing Kyle Cramer’s house. Jordan is stepping out of his front door, followed by Kyle who hands her a piece of paper and smiles down at her.

  She continues to inch away, but she smiles back and jerks her thumb toward my place, and they both exchange a few words and nod. Turning away from him, she walks my way, and my gaze flashes to him still standing behind her, seeing his eyes roam her backside.

  My lungs fill with heat, and instinct starts to kick in. Don’t even try it, asshole.

  She approaches, looking up and slowing for only a second when she sees me.

  I jerk my chin, keeping my tone even. “What was that all about?”

  She blinks, walking up the porch steps. “Oh, he, uh…he has his kids tonight,” she says, “but he forgot he had a baseball game, so he asked me to watch them. I said yes. He was just running through the house and procedures with me.”

  “Why you?” I follow her.

  She glances back at me, and I realize that sounded rude.

  “I mean, he must have babysitters lined up already,” I add. “I was just curious why he asked you.”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugs and grabs her bag, checking to make sure she has what she needs. “Probably because I’m right next door, and he thinks I’m still into pocket money,” she jokes. “It’s fine. Really. I have nothing else to do. I’ll be back late, okay?”

  Late? The games are over by ten.

  He must be joining the team at the bar afterward.

  And then the degenerate’s going to come home drunk, to a barely legal, hot babysitter.

  Fuck no.

  She moves for the door, swinging the pack on her shoulder, and I take a step.

  “Wait…” I say.

  She turns, but her eyes only drift over me, never staying too long.

  She’s trying to avoid me.