by K. L. Kreig
“I thought you were going grocery shopping after work?”
“Don’t start on me, Livia,” he grumbles, dropping his tool belt in the middle of the kitchen floor.
I clamp my teeth together, biting back a cutting retort, though I’m not sure why I even bother. No spiked words could cut through flesh that’s hardened into concrete. I miss the father I used to know. The one who threw me up in the air, making me laugh until I was dizzy. Who taught me to ride a bike and catch butterflies and do three somersaults in a row. The one who used to care about what happened to his children. All that’s left is a husk of man who used to be great once upon a time.
“Dinner?” he repeats, flopping onto a wooden chair. The back leg wobbles and my father adjusts his slight weight to balance it out until he’s satisfied he won’t end up ass first on the floor beneath him. I can smell the vodka wafting off him from ten feet away. Like a closet smoker tries to cover their habit with a giant douse of cologne, he thinks he hides those nips he takes with the mint he pops in his mouth before walking in. I now detest spearmint.
“Give me some money and I’ll go pick up a few things,” I coax, going for nice.
Blank stare.
Fucker. Fucker, fucker, fucker. Why is it you still love the person who brought you into this world even though they’ve given you every reason not to? It’s illogical. I wish I could hate my father’s guts for what he’s done, who he is, but all I feel for him right now is apathy. And maybe that’s worse. I don’t know. I really don’t know.
“Well, I guess you’ll have to fend for yourself, then.”
He frowns, trying a different tactic. “Don’t be like that, Libby girl. I had a bitch of a day. I’ll pay you back. Promise. Money’s a bit tight this week.”
Same song. Different tune. Always off-key.
My father owns his own handyman company, although I’m not sure how. He has to barely be hanging on to it by his cracked, dirty fingernails. Any second I expect to be served a foreclosure notice from the bank. If it wasn’t for Alyse, I would have been long gone, but she’s only a sophomore in high school and I can’t leave her like…this.
“You told me you were going to ease up on the gambling, Dad.”
At least he has the decency to look guilty. I never used to call him out like this. We swept it under the rug, pretended business really “was” bad, but I got tired of letting him off the hook. I work my ass off, putting my future on hold to shoulder his responsibilities because he’s incapable. So now I make him squirm.
“I need you to cut me a break. I’m trying. It’s not as easy as you think.”
I think it is. Choose your family. Get help. Battle your demons. Try harder. But it’s all been said before, a thousand ways, a thousand times. Greed blinds logic. This I’ve learned the hard way.
“Trust me, I am cutting you a break.”
I’m one step down the hallway when he uses that single piece of leverage he always uses against me.
Alyse.
She’s my weakness. I stay because of her. He knows it. He exploits it. I let him because what other choice do I have?
“What will Alyse eat?”
Fuck. Er.
But it won’t work tonight because Alyse won’t be home. If he were any kind of father he would know that. He would know she has a volleyball tournament starting tonight for the entire weekend. He’d be there, cheering her on. But he doesn’t and he won’t. I’ve come to expect no less.
“I’ll take care of it.” I hurl at him as I keep walking toward my bedroom, tacking on as I refrain from slamming my door, “I always do.”
Chapter 6
It’s two hours later. My father is gone, probably in some underground back room filled with cigarette smoke and a bunch of other low-lifes. I doubt I’ll see him the rest of the weekend. I’m still fuming. And I’m now running late. Alyse will start playing in less than thirty minutes and with traffic it will take me at least forty-five to get there.
I have my purse slung over my shoulder and the doorknob in my hand when the doorbell rings, startling me for a second before my heart rate picks up. Anymore, it’s a crapshoot who will be on the other side.
An angry friend my father’s borrowed money from and not paid back? That happened last week.
A repo company come to take back his car because he hasn’t made payments for six months? That happened last month.
A pissed off bookie with a baseball bat in his hands and retribution in his eyes? Yeah…that happened last year. I was scared shitless.
I’m deciding whether or not I can slink out the side door without being noticed while I wait down the street until they leave when knuckles rap, followed by a sexy, familiar voice.
“Livvy, you in there, angel?”
Gray.
Gray.
Shit. I breathe a sigh of relief before I’m immediately flooded with anxiousness. What is he doing here? I was supposed to meet him later, after the tournament tonight, at a neutral location.
There’s a reason I’ve kept Gray away from my house these past three weeks, insisting we go anywhere else but here. I never bring friends here. I’ve never had a boyfriend here.
I do my best with what we have, but it’s not much. The carpet is matted and discolored. The furniture is worn to the stuffing. The walls are dingy, the paint chipping and yellowing. There’s no bottle of soda or froufrou snacks to offer guests while we gather around the fireplace and watch the newest blockbuster movie on our 60” TV. The little we do have is falling apart, but we have no money to fix anything because it all gets spent chasing a dream my father will never catch and then numbing his failures when he realizes it.
I have a split second to decide what to do.
Open the door or pretend I’m not here.
I wasn’t ready to expose this side of me yet, but I’m tired of faking it. I’m tired of hiding, running, putting myself dead last. This is me. This is where I’m from, who I am. Like it or not. And if Gray looks down his nose at me for where I live and what little I have…well, then, I guess he isn’t the man I thought he was and it’s better to find out now before I’m hopelessly in love with him.
That ship sailed about a month ago, Livia.
Fuck.
It’s do or die time.
Please don’t let me down, Gray.
Mind made up, my entire body trembles as I slowly turn the handle and ease the door open. Unfortunately, what pops out of my mouth as I take in his handsome, impeccably dressed form covered in a charcoal pea coat isn’t a warm welcome, it’s a lashing laced with my ingrained protective bite instead.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Chapter 7
Yeah, I knew this was the wrong move, but fuck it. What I’ve learned about Livia Kingsley over the past few weeks is that she keeps people at arms length for a reason. She’s been let down by the ones who are supposed to love her the most. Because my family is fantastic, I can’t completely relate, but I do get it. I recognize a protective barrier when I see one.
I keep my eyes on her when I answer, “Hi. Sorry for the drop by,” I’m not. “but I couldn’t wait another three hours to see you.” Truth.
By the nervous tick I note in her jaw, I can tell she doesn’t want me here. I’ve never been invited in and I know why. She’s embarrassed. Warrendale isn’t exactly one the nicest or safest of areas in Detroit, but quite frankly, those are harder and harder to find.
What I don’t think Livvy understands is I couldn’t give a flying fuck about any of that. Her car, her job, her clothes, her bank account balance, her less than stellar home life? None of it matters. Do I like that she lives here with a father that’s a drunk and a gambling addict? Hell no I don’t, but that’s beside the point. She does. While I can’t fathom what she’s been through in life, this, right here, has made her the woman she is today and how can I wish anything about her were different when I think she’s absolute fucking perfection?
She needs to know none of this sup
erficial bullshit interests me. It’s her heart I’m after, that I’ll treasure. The rest of it is irrelevant.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she says flatly, now biting that damn bottom lip. It turns me on so fucking much when she does that.
I step into her, gripping her hip with one hand so she can’t move back. “And you should know I don’t give a shit about any of this.” I nod over her shoulder. The one she’s wedged against the jam of the door, doing her best to block the insides from me. “All I want is you, Livia Kingsley. Nothing but you matters to me.”
Then I don’t give her a chance to drop that protest hanging from the end of her tongue. I lean down and claim it. Dissolve it. I kiss her. I devour. Every move of my mouth on hers reassures her the only thing I’m after is currently winding her leg around mine. She can’t get close enough. Neither can I.
Christ, I want everything from this woman. All of it.
My hands wander under her worn winter coat, up her slim sides until I’m cupping her perfectly weighted breasts in both palms. I thumb her nipples until they’re nice and hard. Until they strain against the material of her bra and thin sweater. Then I pinch them until she moans into my mouth and shifts her hips into me.
She won’t be able to miss the fact I’m raging right now. I’m rock fucking hard. As my lips travel down the expanse of her throat, she rubs herself against the bulge in my pants. I’m knocking on orgasms door, ready to explode in my jeans.
“Gray, stop,” she pants. But then she grabs my shoulders and pulls me closer, so I don’t. I keep going until the name of her sister punctures this haziness we’re sunk in.
Shit. Alyse. The reason I’m here. I want every part of Livia’s life to be part of mine, too. So, though I wasn’t invited, I’m going to her sister’s volleyball games. I don’t intend to spend a second apart for the little time we have left unless Livia’s working.
“Sorry,” I croak, my forehead now plastered to hers. Our eyes are shut. Our breaths rapid. I feel her body buzzing underneath the tips of my fingers. “Got carried away for a minute there.”
Man, that smile. That beautiful, mind-altering smile of hers. I feel it a second before I open my eyes and see it. I knew it was there because it radiates warmth that, hand-to-god, I feel every time.
“I think we both did,” she rasps, still breathing hard. When she licks those lips, the ones pink and swollen from my kiss, I start throbbing all over again.
“I want you, Livvy. Fuck, I want you so much,” I blurt. She is so gorgeous, so goddamn desirable it’s making me stupid.
She leans away, tipping her head back until her stunning green eyes pierce mine. She blinks a few times, those long lashes fanning the tops of her plump cheeks every time she does.
“I don’t mean to pressure you,” I start to say. “This is not—”
When she lays a single finger against my lips, I quiet. Before I know what I’m doing, I dart my tongue out and slide it up to the tip, drawing it into my mouth. Bright green darkens to liquid pools of seaweed before her lids fall half-mast. She swallows hard.
“You’re not pressuring me.” Her voice is husky and needy. It’s sexy as fuck. “I want this, but Alyse…”
Reaching up, I draw her finger back out, wetness sticking behind on my lips. Then I tuck her hand in mine so she can’t pull away. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”
She eyes me for the longest time. Finally, one edge of her lip tugs up before the other follows. Then she’s full-on grinning and I am done for. I am completely and irrevocably in love with this woman and would do anything she asked. Bow before her. Hunt and kill her dinner. Worship her endlessly, forever. Even leave, if that’s what she wants.
“You want to sit for three hours watching a bunch of high school girls grunt and smack a ball around?”
“Why wouldn’t I? They’re wearing short shorts, right?” I tease, my grin now matching hers.
I laugh when she whacks me on the chest, but it gives me chance to draw her in tight. “You know the only person my eyes will be on is you, right? I’m blind to anyone else but you, Livia Kingsley. Have been for the last twenty-five days. And I have a feeling I will be for the foreseeable future.”
She bites that lip. Again. She glances back over her shoulder into her house, then back up at me. I, however, never take my eyes from her.
“You and me. That’s all that matters, angel. You, me, and Alyse.”
Like a hose just turned on, her eyes fill with water and start to spill over. I cup her cheeks and wipe them away, one after the other, knowing this moment right here is defining.
“You, me, and Alyse?” she asks in a small voice. She’s unsure and, once again, I get it. But I’ll never betray her. I’ll never leave or abandon her, even though miles will separate us for the next few months. I will always be by her side, as long as she’ll let me. I already know this is woman is my future. My forever.
“She’s important to you, so she’s important to me. The end.”
I slant my mouth and put it on hers, kissing her gently. It’s colder than a witch’s tit in January out here, but if she needs us to stay on her stoop until this—us—is all sorted out, I’ll stay here until my toes turn blue.
“You’re too good to be true,” she whispers between pecks, trying to convince herself I’ll be just like everyone else in her life. But I’m not.
Drawing away, I stare into her soul. She’s confused. Scared to hope. Untrusting. Throwing up barriers to shield from the hurt others inflict. She’s having a hard time believing what we’re creating here is real and long lasting. But it is.
“Do you feel this? Between us?” I speak soft and sure because I intend to tear every single one of them down, then calk every crack inside her with peace. With love. With belief in us.
Holding my gaze she nods.
“It burns, doesn’t it?”
She licks her lips and whispers, “So much.”
“But it’s the good kind of burn, angel. The kind of fire that gives life, not destroys it. You’ve lit something inside me that can never be extinguished. You get what I’m telling you?”
“I’m not sure.” She does, but her answer is tentative, so I throw caution to the wind and hope it doesn’t bite me in the ass.
“Do you know what I do for the people I love?”
“Gray…” she mutters, her entire face softening. Bingo.
“I protect them, Livvy. Their hearts. Their happiness. I will never hurt those I love. I’ll make mistakes, sure, but I will never, ever hurt them intentionally because their happiness means more to me than my own.”
I want to substitute every “them” and “their” in that statement with “you” and “your”. I want to tell her flat out that I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with her, but I want to do that buried between her snug walls when I’m sure those three words won’t send her skittering like a frightened rabbit, so before she thinks she owes me a response, I tug on her arm and close the door behind her. Then I settle her in my car and lace my fingers between hers when we get going down the road.
“Let’s go watch your sister kick butt.”
With a soft, almost wistful smile on her lips, she utters one simple word. But that one word is full of everything I need to hear. It seals this thing between us into something strong and shatterproof.
The sweet, sweet sound of surrender.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She is mine.
Chapter 8
Christ, I’m nervous.
As I push the key into the lock of the front door, my hand is shaking. Gray silently slips his arm around me and steadies it. Together we manage to line it up and twist the knob. The front door opens and a stuffy, pitch-black room greets us. It’s both irritating and a relief.
Sensing my pause, his hands land lightly on my shoulders, kneading. “I can leave if you want,” he says quietly, still behind me.
“No.” That’s the last thing I want.
I step inside and I don’t stop moving, putting one foot in front of the other as I navigate my way around the coffee table and the recliner, hoping that Gray stays on my heels instead of lingering behind. I pass through the kitchen, down the hallway, past three doors until I come to my bedroom. When I cross over the threshold, Gray is right behind me. And when I hear the click of the latch, signaling he’s closed the door, I spin around telling my heart to slow down a few paces before it jumps from my chest.
Rays from a small bedside lamp illuminate his handsome face, revealing a lopsided grin. Intuitive hazels measure me carefully. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, waiting for him to say something. Anything.
Why the hell am I acting like this is the first time I’ve been with a man?
“Is your dad home?”
Not what I was expecting, but okay. I shake my head. If he were home, he’d be passed out on the couch by now. But by not being here that means no food will magically appear in our cupboards tomorrow, either. I push the thought away, not wanting to taint this night with thoughts of my irresponsible father.
Casually shrugging out of his coat, it lands with a soft thud when he tosses it to the floor. “Good. It would be awkward if he heard your screams of pleasure.”
Holy panty-wetting words. Nerves twist, contorting into fiery need.
When I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, he zeros in on it and I swear the hungry lines on his face sharpen. The throaty groan he makes sounds predatory. A lion before the strike.
Then he starts toward me, never letting his gaze fall away from mine. He moves with grace and purpose and before I know it he’s in front of me. Warm, even breaths wash over my face when he gently palms my cheeks and tips my head back so he can stare directly into me and thieve the small pieces I’ve been holding back.
My eyelids grow heavy, losing the fight to stay open when his thumbs start to toy with the corners of my mouth, establishing ownership. He runs the pad across the fullest part, gently tugging down until my lips part for him. I want him to kiss me. Consume me. My entire body is nothing but a mass of ultra sensitive nerve endings right now. Every touch, every pang, magnified and intense.