by Box Set
Six-thirty.
“Aw, shit,” I said.
“What?”
“I have twelve missed calls from my mom.” I dropped my head back down onto the pillow. “And a text message demanding to know why my car was still parked outside yours at eleven last night.”
Brantley buried his face in the pillow and laughed.
“Don’t laugh. She’s insisting on breakfast. Since this sleepover was your idea, why don’t you come and explain it to her?”
He propped his head up, his elbow digging into the pillow, and looked down at me. “What exactly am I supposed to say to her? “Sorry, Mrs. Hancock. I kept your daughter at my house all night so I could fuck her senseless?””
I frowned. “A little less graphic might be the way to go.”
“Just be honest and tell her you spent the night. Who’s she gonna tell?”
He had a point. While my mom was at the center of every gossip circle in town, she only ever received gossip about me. She never gave it out.
“Mmph,” I hmped. “I need to speak to her anyway. May as well kill two birds with one stone.”
He nodded. “Now, put down your phone and come back to sleep for an hour.”
“Hang on.” I quickly replied to Mom’s text confirming I’d be home at eight for breakfast and then put my phone down.
“Thank you,” he said when I settled back under the covers.
“You’re grumpy in the morning.”
“You woke me up. I had a plan to wake up before you and seduce you, but now I’m awake with an uncomfortable erection.”
I shifted and rolled over to face him. “That’s not my fault.”
“Your bare ass has been against it all night. It’s one hundred percent your fault.”
“You’re the one who made me spend the night.”
“I didn’t make you do anything.”
“True, but you gave me a very compelling argument.”
He hooked one arm under my neck and hugged me into him. “Mhmm. It’s eight inches long and likes you very much.”
“I can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.”
He chuckled and squeezed me. “Stop it, or I might start to think you don’t want to go back to sleep.”
I leaned up and blinked. “Maybe I don’t.”
“Mm?”
“What’s the point of going back to sleep for an hour?”
“You’re right.” He effortlessly flipped me onto my back and positioned himself between my legs. “I can make you come at least three times in that hour.”
“Ambitious,” I said, running my hands up and down his arms. “You think?”
“I know.” He dropped down and kissed me. His cock brushed against my clit, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, giving him the chance to deepen the kiss.
He did.
Desire built as we kissed. We’d both only had a few hours sleep, so there was no reason for me to be so awake, much less this…needy.
All I knew was that I still wanted more of Brantley.
Still both naked from the night before, he made easy work of turning me on, traveling down my body in a succession of touches and kisses, from my neck to my nipples and down my stomach. He slid down the bed, taking the covers with him, and parted my legs with a gentle grip.
He glanced up at me seconds before he flicked his tongue over my clit.
My hips twitched. It was crazy, how such a gentle touch could evoke such a reaction.
I threw my arm over my eyes as he explored me with his tongue. He was a master at it—the way he took his time yet brought me close to the brink so quickly was a miracle. He dangled pleasure in front of me only to take it away again, and I both loved and hated that.
Because, when I finally came, it was the best fucking orgasm. And he knew it, because he slid back up my body with a smug smile.
I blushed as our eyes met.
“One,” he murmured, holding my gaze before going back down.
I gasped when he closed his mouth around my clit and sucked, flexing his tongue against it. It was so tender, and I gripped the sheets as heat washed through me once again.
Jesus Christ—he’d been down there ten seconds and already, I was on the edge.
A second one slammed into me. He’d barely done anything, and I was biting my lip to keep from moaning too loudly. He kept his tongue there until I stilled, when he once again leaned over me, this time, with his cock already positioned at my pussy.
He slid in easily, whispering, “Two.”
Note to self: he took a challenge seriously.
Long, slow thrusts into me covered both our bodies in a thin sheen of sweat.
This time was different.
Not like the first time against the wall—and not like last night, where it’d be hard and fueled by pure lust. This time was gentle, almost sweet, and although a part of me wanted it quicker and harder, I knew it wasn’t right.
I knew this was.
This slow, easy sex wasn’t a raw fuck. It was raw emotion, and I felt it in the way that he kissed me as he moved. In the way his fingertips moved across my skin almost reverently.
In the way my heart skipped a beat when our eyes met and I gasped.
In his eyes, I saw something.
It was a mere flash, a shadow passing over his gaze, but before I could grasp hold of it, he kissed me again. Deeper, and he fucked me a little harder, too. Not much harder, but enough that with a raise of my legs, burying himself further inside me with each thrust.
And pretty soon…
I forgot all about it.
“Shit,” was all I could say as I pulled up in my driveway.
I was an hour late, and my mom’s car was sitting there. My curtain twitched in the front room, so she’d obviously brought her spare key and let herself in.
I was really hoping to have been able to get in and shower and not have this conversation while wearing Brantley’s t-shirt.
Damn it.
That’s what happens when I have the great idea to have sex and fall asleep right after.
Of all the times the twins could interrupt us, waking us up would have been a great one.
We won’t even discuss the fact I ran out while Brantley was struggling to explain in kid-speak why I was in his bed this morning.
On one hand, I wanted to thank my mom. On the other… No. Not at all.
I got out of my truck and walked toward the front door. Hell, I was twenty-six, and I felt like I was about to get an interrogation about where I’d been all night. Like I was eighteen and past curfew or something.
I actually felt a little shame.
Dear god.
I shut the door behind me. Mom was sitting on my sofa, legs crossed, and her hands resting on her knee.
“Well, good morning,” she said without turning around.
Which was when I looked in the mirror and made eye contact.
“I’m just going to—” I pointed toward the stairs. “Yeah.”
“Kali! Get back here!”
I took the stairs two at a time and slammed myself into the bathroom before she could follow me. Luckily for me, there were two towels on the rail.
I took my time showering and cleaning up. By the time I finally stepped out from under the water, I was sure I’d never been so clean in my life. I could practically hear myself squeaking with cleanliness as I made the dash into my room to get dressed.
I’d just picked up my blow dryer when she knocked at my door. “Kali. Are you dressed?”
I started the hairdryer.
It didn’t deter her. Clearly, she’d had enough of my shit, and she was coming in whether I was dressed or not.
Which was why I’d had a lock on my door as a teenager. I’d never imagined needing one in my own home, though.
“Good morning,” I said brightly. “Sorry, I was late. I slept in.”
She took the hairdryer out of my hands, turned it off, and put it on top of my dresser. “And just why were you sleeping in, youn
g lady? And where exactly was that?”
I wanted to tell her there were some things parents didn’t need to know about their kids, but instead I mumbled something incoherent and took a step back.
She pointed to my bed in a wordless order.
I sat down. Like a disgraced toddler.
“Explain to me why your car was parked at Brantley Cooper’s house at eleven p.m. last night and was apparently still there this morning. And why you came in wearing something that looked suspiciously like a men’s t-shirt.”
I paused. “Do you, er…Do you really want me to go into it?”
She waved her hands and sat next to me. “Well, I guess you broke the ‘no cavorting with clients’ rule.”
See? That was a real line, no matter how much he laughed at me.
“Couple times,” I answered. “Oops?”
Mom laughed. “I knew exactly what you were doing there. So did your father.”
“Oops.” That time, I meant it.
“Oh, it was obvious. Every time I mentioned him you got all dreamy-eyed. Like that time you were convinced you were going to marry Justin Timberlake when I took you to see him in concert.”
“That might still happen.”
She rolled her eyes. “Talk to me, honey. I can see you have something on your mind.”
“Can we get coffee first?”
“Sure. I’ll make us some. Come down with me.”
I snagged a hair tie from the pot on my dresser, along with my brush, and followed her down. I took a seat at the kitchen table and did my hair while she made coffee.
A few minutes later, she set two mugs on the table and sat down. She didn’t say a word as I toyed with my braid. She simply sat, drank her coffee, and waited.
“I know we already had this chat. Kinda,” I started. “But, how did you know? That you could take on someone else’s child?”
She raised her eyebrows. The surprise registered on her face for a second before she realized and smoothed out her features. “I just knew. I didn’t wake up one morning with an epiphany that I was Mother Teresa or something.”
“Damn. I think that would have been easier.”
She nodded once. “Very much so. This question tells me that the way you feel about a certain family has changed an awful lot.”
I sipped my coffee before setting it down and wrapping my hands around the mug. I wasn’t cold, but goosebumps prickled over my skin. “I don’t know how it happened,” I admitted. I explained to her what had happened last night, and how easily I’d settled into a role that looked after them both without blinking.
“You love them. The twins.” It was a statement.
I nodded, looking into my mug. “They’re easy to love. Hard work, but easy to love. But, when does that stop becoming a novelty? I did it because I could. Not because I had to.”
“I disagree,” she said softly. “You knew Brantley was working. You knew it was obviously something important—something that couldn’t be interrupted. Someone had to look after the twins, and you did it.”
“But, the responsibility. When it becomes a responsibility and not just a one-time thing, then what?”
Mom studied me for a moment. “You’re afraid.”
“I’m not…afraid,” I said uncertainly. “I’m…I don’t know. This wasn’t my plan. I didn’t want kids. I didn’t want to walk into that house and fall in love with everyone in it.” I buried my face in my hands, taking a deep breath.
There.
I’d said it.
Jumped over the cliff.
Mom gave me a moment before she gently reached over and pulled my hands from my face. She lay my hands on the table and squeezed my fingers, then said in a low, quiet voice, “You don’t get to plan who you fall in love with. I’m sorry, honey, but you don’t. You don’t get to plan who, how, or when it happens. You just have to go with it when it does. If you got to plan it, I never would have fallen in love with your father.”
“You wouldn’t?” I said softly.
“Nope. I’d just got divorced. It was my fault. I was the one who couldn’t have kids. My ex-husband couldn’t deal with it. And let me tell you, honey, I was furious.” She squeezed my hands again as if to make me understand. “I didn’t want to be around kids. I especially didn’t want to be a step-parent. If I couldn’t have my own children, I didn’t want anyone else’s, either.”
“I never knew you felt like that.”
“I was grieving. Unlike you, a family is all I’d ever wanted. I had the choice taken away from me. Until I met your father.”
“How did you go from that? To being so angry to being who you are right now?”
“I fell in love with your dad,” she admitted. “It sounds fickle, but that’s all it took. It wasn’t like you were a secret—I knew he had you, and although I wasn’t interested at first, the way I felt about him outweighed all my anger eventually. We’d dated for months before he introduced us, do you remember?”
I nodded. “I was pissed because he wouldn’t tell me anything about you.”
“And you made it known.” Mom laughed. “Until that point, I was still in denial about having kids. I was still angry. Then, I walked into your house, and you looked up from your homework, stared at me, then to your dad, and said, “I’m busy. I’ve asked for weeks, so, now you have to wait for me.””
I bit the inside of my cheek, smiling.
I was kind of an asshole teen.
“I fell in love with you there and then.” She laughed again. “And, Kali? The day I fell in love with you was the day I accepted I couldn’t have children. There was no need to, because there was a child out there who already needed me, and that child was you.”
The smile dropped from my face.
“And, if I’d had my own children, I never would have gotten the greatest daughter ever: you.”
A lump formed in my throat. “Weren’t you scared? About how your life would change?”
“I thought you weren’t afraid.” Her lips twitched.
“Hypothetically,” I said.
“Hypothetically, I was terrified. Not only was I entering into a relationship, I was entering into a relationship with a man who had a teenage girl. Jeez.” She winked. “I was afraid you wouldn’t accept me. That…I don’t know. I wouldn’t be able to be the kind of person you needed in your life. I didn’t know anything about you except what your dad had told me. It took a long time before I understood what you needed me to be to you.”
I pulled my hands from hers and took a deep breath. “What if…What if I’m not good enough for them, Mom? What if I fuck up because I’m not the person they need me to be?”
“Good enough? What is good enough? How do you measure how worthy you are to someone else?” She raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how many times your father and I felt like we failed you, yet you turned around and made it clear we hadn’t? That’s part of being a parent. There will always be times you feel like you’re not good enough, but as long as you give it your everything, then you can’t ever be any better than that.”
“It’s just so…different. They’re tiny. They need so much more than I did when we met.”
“It sounds to me like you’re talking through your excuses.”
I took a deep breath and let it out on a shudder. “Maybe I am. Maybe I need to talk myself into it. I don’t know. I just…you’re right. I’m terrified, Mom. Of so many things.”
She stared at me, her eyes piercing into me, seeing right through me. “You’re terrified of never measuring up to their mom in his eyes, aren’t you?”
Ding ding ding, we have a winner.
I nodded. “He loved her, you know? Really loved her. How do you cope with that? Knowing that they lost someone they loved enough to have a child with?”
She folded her hands on top of each other and looked me dead in the eye. “I cope knowing that even after that, even though he sees her every single time he looks at you, he trusted me enough to open his heart to me. Your dad st
ill loves your mom, Kali. Understand that. He’ll ever stop loving her, and that’s okay with me. It’s a different kind of love.” She paused. “And the part you’re forgetting is that both of you are still young enough that you have your lives ahead of you. Just because he loved her a certain way, doesn’t mean he can’t love you just as much in a different one. Remember, he’s the one who was hurt.”
“What do I do?”
“You need to think about what you really want. He’s the one putting three hearts on the line, and he’s trusting you not to break them.”
“No pressure, then.”
“Listen to your heart, Kali. I promise it won’t steer you wrong.”
Chapter 26
Two days later, Dad had installed the kids’ beds, and their rooms were done.
I didn’t know how I felt about it.
On one hand, it was amazing to see the rooms completed. All that needed to be done was bedding, curtains, and unpacking. As far as my work was concerned, though, I was done.
On the other and, there was nothing left for me to do but stare at the completed rooms with my heart in my throat.
Would I ever see these bedrooms again?
I had a choice to make, and one I knew I had to make soon. My mom had been right. This wasn’t a normal relationship—there were two, little hearts on the line here as well, and as long as I kept myself in a state of indecision, I was being selfish.
Did I take the risk, or did I take the easy option and walk away?
If I took the risk, everything would change. And, in the weirdest kind of way, I was ready for it. The thought of not being around the twins and laughing at them…Well, that sucked.
The thought of not being around Brantley?
I didn’t want to think about that.
I leaned against the windowsill in Ellie’s room. I’d just made the choice, hadn’t I? Walking away wasn’t the easy option at all. If I did, I’d leave a piece of my heart here.
I’d leave a piece in the paint on the walls and the nails in the floor. In the drawers in the dresser and the shelves that held their piggy banks.
I stared around the room. A box sat at the end of her bed, and a frilly, tulle skirt poked out of the top. While Brantley had gotten most of downstairs unpacked—finally—the kids’ bedrooms had, understandably, been left behind.