by Meghan Quinn
“I did.” I clasp my hands together. “I invited my mom.”
Naomi slowly sits up. “You invited Meredith?”
I nod. “Yeah. I, uh . . . I called her earlier in the week. To say she was surprised to hear from me is an understatement. I told her I would like it if she came to filming, and that I wanted us to start working toward rebuilding our relationship. It was a huge step for me.”
“Wow, Alec. I had no idea.”
“I didn’t say anything to Thad because I didn’t want to get his hopes up. He’s already stressed, and I know how much pressure he’s under to keep our family from falling apart. I wanted it to be more of a surprise than anything.” I rub the back of my neck. “But she didn’t show. Right before we started filming, I stepped aside to call her and see what was going on.”
“And?” Naomi asks, setting her trail mix on my desk.
“She said she’d had a rough night.” I shake my head. “Same fucking story. I thought that since I was reaching out this time, maybe she could pull it together for us, but apparently not. I was . . . hell, I was so mad that I shut down.”
“Which made Thad think you just stopped caring,” Naomi finishes for me.
“Exactly.”
“I knew something was wrong. You really seemed like you were changing, like you wanted to make things better with Thad.”
“I still do,” I say. “I don’t want to give up, but climbing out of the hole I’m stuck in seems next to impossible.”
“It’s not impossible.” Naomi smiles. “Because you have me.”
“Are you saying you’re going to help me?” I ask, taken aback.
“Of course. What kind of future sister-in-law would I be if I didn’t help you?”
“Not the good kind.” I chuckle.
“Exactly.” She grows serious again. “I don’t know your mom that well, but I do know she’s . . . self-centered.” Naomi winces. “Sorry if that’s rude.”
“Not rude—accurate.”
“I’ve gotten to know her, and it’s been difficult, to say the least. She’s canceled on us so many times—she’s just not shown up. She’s even asked Thad to get a prescription for her under his name.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Thad sees the kind of person she is, but he’s still holding on to her despite their toxic relationship. She’s always taking, taking, taking, but I think he holds on because he doesn’t really have anybody else.”
My stomach sinks, heavy with guilt. I’m the reason our mom is his only option. He’s a family man, always has been, and he’s reaching for whatever small piece of family he can.
“I want to help you repair your relationship with Thad—at the very least, it might help him distance himself from your mom. You’ve been MIA, but I at least can see love in your eyes when you’re around him—can’t say the same about Meredith. You care about Thad. You wouldn’t be helping with the wedding otherwise.”
“I do care about him.” I meet Naomi’s gaze. “I care about him a lot.”
“Then let’s find a way to make things better, okay?” I nod and stand. She does as well, and I pull her into a hug—the first hug we’ve ever shared.
“Thank you, Naomi, for reaching out. I really fucking needed this.”
“I could tell.” She rubs my back and then pulls away, holding me by the shoulders. “I’m not sure your mom will ever change, for either you or Thad, but I’m joining this family soon, and I’ll be damned if you and Thad don’t have a relationship. And hey, if you need a little motherly hug or kick in the ass, I’m your girl. Okay?”
“Can I call you Mom?”
She laughs and steps away, grabbing our packets of trail mix as she goes. “If you want Thad to freak out, sure.” She pauses. “You know, please do. I would love to see his reaction.”
“I’m on it.” I wink and stick my hands in my pockets.
She stops at my office door. “You know, Alec, you’re a good man. Maybe a bit lost, but a good man. I can see where Thad gets it.” With a wave of her hand, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a small square piece of paper and hands it to me. “For the uncle-to-be.”
I stare down at the black-and-white photo of what looks like a little lima bean.
“Is this . . . ?”
Naomi nods. “The baby, yes. Thad wanted to give it to you on Saturday but refused after your argument. Thought it might lift your spirits.”
“It does,” I say, my throat growing tight. “This means a lot to me—thank you.”
She smiles kindly. “See you Saturday, Alec.”
My throat grows tighter. I regret a lot of my decisions, but I’ll always be proud of the moments when I could protect Thad and give him the childhood I never had. I know it had an impact on him, and it’s probably the only reason he still wants to have a relationship. I’m glad Naomi can see that good side of me: the kind, caring brother I used to be.
I give her a small wave. “See you Saturday, Naomi.”
The door clicks shut, and I head back to my office chair, where I stick the picture right under my computer screen so I can stare at it.
A good man.
If someone asked me if I thought I was a good man, I’m not sure I’d say yes.
I help people get divorced for a living. I had my reasons for that choice, but the more I let myself think of my mom, the more I realize I’ve spent all these years helping these other women so they wouldn’t end up like her, so they wouldn’t hurt and neglect their children like she did. I thought I was seeking justice, but I think I was trying to change my mom—projecting my childhood issues on my clients.
Jesus Christ, that’s beyond fucked.
That doesn’t make me a good man. It makes me a perfect candidate for therapy.
I round my desk, pick up my phone, and dial Lucas.
“What’s up, man?”
“I need a therapist.”
He doesn’t laugh. “I have just the person for you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LUNA
Farrah: Running late. Don’t leave for dinner until I show him my right hook. No more than forty-five minutes. Sorry.
I set my phone down just as a knock sounds at the door. I stand from the couch and go to answer it.
I’ve been mentally preparing myself all day for this date. Alec hasn’t been texting, and even though he said he’d be okay, I didn’t believe it. He suffered a big blow this weekend, and I can’t imagine him being able to work through it all on his own. I desperately wanted to go over to his place and hold him, let him know I was there for him if he needed anything, but I respected his wishes. And it was painful.
It was also painful not hearing from him.
The only text I got today was right before he left his apartment, letting me know he was on his way. So going into tonight, I really have no idea what to expect. Is he in a good mood? Has he spent too much time thinking? Is he standing outside my apartment door, ready to break things off with me?
That’s the fear swirling through my head like a storm ready to break.
I’m afraid our relationship is going to be too much for Alec. Maybe it would be best for him if he took a break and figured out his life. I’d step aside, if that were the case, and let him rebuild his family—despite how devastating it would be. Whether I like it or not, Alec has dug himself under my skin. He’s all I think about. Even when I’m crafting, my thoughts drift to Alec and the way he so carefully touches me, how he can make me laugh without even trying. After Marco offered me the collaboration, the first person I wanted to tell was Alec, despite my brother standing only a few feet away. I wanted to see the pride on Alec’s face, the excitement—that smile.
With a trembling hand, I steel myself and open the door.
A second later, a pair of strong arms scoops me back into my apartment, spins me around, shuts the door, and presses me against it. Then a pair of lips is pressing against mine.
Firm, demanding lips.
H
ungry, devouring lips.
The only lips I want.
His mouth is the first thing I register, followed by his hands on my lower back, then the rough scruff of his beard. A sweet groan floats up from the back of his throat.
Hot.
Needy.
Relief washes over me.
My hands fall to the back of his neck, where I grip him tightly, beyond relieved that this is the kind of greeting I’m getting—and not the other one I was dreading.
“Where’s Farrah?” he asks, resting his forehead against mine.
“Late.”
“Really?”
I nod. “At least forty-five minutes.”
He lifts me up by the ass, and I wrap my legs around his waist. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Down the hall. Door on the right.”
He takes off, and I giggle as he practically sprints down the hallway. Skidding to a halt, he kicks the door open, strides inside, and slams it shut before tossing me on the bed. From behind his head, he tears his shirt off and tosses it to the ground, revealing his perfectly defined chest and magnificent abs. The view will never get old.
Never ever.
“Shirt off.” He nods.
I do what he says, revealing my moss-green bra.
“Pants too.”
I chuckle and get rid of those as well.
“Matching set—I like it,” he says, crawling over the bed and pressing a kiss on my lips. But then he pauses and leans back a few inches. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Not buying it. There’s worry in your eyes.”
“I’m just . . .” His warm body is hovering over me, and the last thing I want is to distract from where the evening is headed, but Alec needs the truth. “After not hearing from you and all the drama that went down this past weekend, I thought you might have to—I don’t know—ask for time apart to figure things out.”
“What?” His brow creases. “Where would you get that idea? You’re the only reason I’m surviving this whirlwind.”
“I know it was crazy, but it was just a thought. I didn’t hear from you all day—”
“Luna.” He brings his palm to my cheek. “Not on purpose.” He kisses the inside of my wrist. “I was catching up on work so I could come tonight. Plus, Naomi stopped by the office.”
“She did?”
He nods. “She did. She wanted to check up on me. I told her about my mom not showing up to set. She was surprised I even invited her in the first place, but I told her I wanted to repair things. And we eventually came to the conclusion that the relationship with my mom might never change, but the one with Thad can. And she’s going to help me make sure that happens.”
“Oh, Alec, that’s . . . that’s great.”
He studies me. “You’re saying that, but how come it’s not accompanied by one of your amazing smiles?”
“Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m being stupid.”
“Let me guess, you wanted to help fix my relationship with my mom, right? And you’re feeling a little sad that you’re not the one who could help.”
“What? Why do you say that?”
“Because, Luna Moon, you’re a fixer.” He turns my palm over and kisses that as well. “It’s in your nature.”
“I just like to help.”
“And I love that about you,” he says, the L word falling so easily from his tongue. I know he didn’t say he loves me, but still, hearing the word on his lips sends a thrill through me.
“Are you doing better?”
“Much better now that I’m here.” He lowers himself down, and our bare stomachs press together as he sighs, resting his forehead on mine. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to see you until just now. It’s been a shit few days.”
“I know.” I swallow back my exciting news—now is not the time. “But I’m glad you’re here now.”
“So am I.” He presses a light kiss across my lips. “I don’t think I ever said thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything.” His lips fall to my jaw and travel up to the sensitive spot near my ear. I grasp his shoulders and twist beneath him as his mouth whispers across my skin. “For coming to my place the other night, for holding me, making me feel like I matter.” He props himself up on his elbows. “For being mine.”
I smooth my hand over his beard, my eyes not leaving his. “You don’t have to thank me, Alec. I want you in my life. I was devastated at the thought of you ending things today. It’s weird to think that this all started with an irritated demand for coffee, but I’m glad it did, because it led to us, and I truly believe you’re the first man to actually capture my soul in his hands.”
“Hell . . .” He exhales heavily. “I feel the same damn way, Luna. The same fucking way.”
“Like . . . you can’t stop thinking about me?”
“It’s constant.”
“Like . . . you want to tell me everything and anything all at the same time?”
“I feel tongue tied when I’m near you—I’m just so excited to have a conversation.”
“Like . . . ,” I start, my heart hammering. “So excited that if you’re not inside me soon, your skin might very well disintegrate into nothing?”
“Desperate, Luna. So fucking desperate for that.”
My stomach bottoms out, and I realize this is it: the moment I’ve been craving for a while now.
Letting him know where my head is at, I spread my legs wide and wrap them around his waist, pressing my center to him. His head falls against my shoulder, and he lets out a shaky breath.
“Are you sure?” he whispers.
I nod. “Beyond sure. And ready. I want you, Alec. Need you.”
In response, he reaches behind me and unhooks my bra. Using just his fingertips, he drags the fabric down my shoulder, his fingers running over my skin.
He lifts up my arm so he can remove my bra completely, and instead of bringing his lips back to my mouth, he moves down my body, to my breasts, his beard scraping along my hardened nipples, which he sucks into his warm, wet mouth.
“Yes,” I whisper, my hand falling to his hair.
Unapologetically, I move my hips against him, searching for any way to release the pressure coiling between my legs.
While his mouth works one of my breasts, his hand moves down to my thong. He runs his fingers along the waistband, taking in the fabric, almost as if he’s memorizing the feel against his fingertips. And when I think he’s going to continue to torture me, his touch so close to where I want him, he drags my thong down my legs, and I help him kick it to the side. He sits up and stares down at me while my heart pounds away in my chest.
“So hot,” he says before grabbing both of my breasts, squeezing them together, and bringing his mouth to them.
He kisses.
He licks.
He sucks.
And good God, he pinches.
“Oh fuck, Alec.” He groans against me and repeats the process, playing with my breasts until I feel myself unhinging. I need him to push forward, to take me completely, but he doesn’t.
He pinches.
And pinches.
And pinches until the throbbing between my legs reaches such a crescendo that if he does it one more time I will come.
“Alec, please. I need you.”
He licks my nipple, soothing the pleasurable pain before dragging his tongue down the center of my stomach, to my pubic bone. Then he pauses and reaches down to his pants. He pushes them off, along with his briefs, freeing his beautifully hard cock.
God, he has an amazing dick. Like the lord himself spent a great deal of time carving it out, making it perfect.
“I’m so goddamn hard,” he croaks—before pressing his mouth between my legs. I sit up on my elbows, my mouth falling open as his tongue runs along my clit. His hips move, grinding his cock into the mattress, probably trying to ease some of the pressure that’s built up inside him as well.
“Stop,” I br
eathe out.
He pauses, looking concerned. “Everything okay?”
“I love your mouth on me, but I want your cock, Alec. I don’t want you grinding against anything but me. Right now.”
He chuckles and gently pushes me back down onto my back. “You don’t make the calls, Luna Moon. I do.” And then he puts his mouth back on my pussy and flicks his tongue along my clit—and before I can argue, my muscles melt. I feel nothing but the solid beat of my heart and the quiver at my center.
“That’s it, Luna, let go,” he says, pausing for a moment before diving right back between my thighs.
“Oh . . . right there. Right . . . fuck!” I scream. White-hot pleasure rips through me, shooting stars behind my eyes. My body lifts off the mattress, and I’m almost in disbelief as his mouth continues to work me over and over again.
“Alec, oh fuck, Alec,” I call out, and he grunts something as he pulls away.
Just as I begin to come down from the euphoria of his mouth, I hear a condom wrapper being ripped open and feel his hands spreading my legs far apart. I reach out and take his length in my hand, helping guide it to where I want him to be. He smiles lustfully down at me while the tip of his cock plays at my entrance. The look of tortured pleasure that passes over his features as he slowly enters me is by far the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Mother . . . fucker,” he breathes out heavily. “Shit, Luna, you feel so good. So fucking good.”
“So full,” I whisper.
He stills.
I breathe heavily.
His control is slipping by the second.
But he still manages to take it slow, placing his hand on my stomach to hold my pelvis still as he works in and out of me. The pace is agonizing, but in the best way possible.
“So good,” he mumbles. He lowers himself down and kisses me, parting my mouth with his tongue and diving deep. I gasp into his mouth as he continues moving in and out, seeming to drag out every pleasure point I have.
Sweat slicks our bodies.
And he makes it impossible not to moan after three long . . . slow strokes.
“Christ, Alec, I need you to move faster. Harder.”
“But . . . it’s . . . so . . . good,” he grits out.