Hold On (The 'Burg Series Book 6)

by Kristen Ashley

  I figured in this place, wild parties happened every weekend, even if a cop lived amongst them.

  He parked. He got out. I opened the door and was almost out before he got to me, took my hand, and helped me the rest of the way.

  He cleared me from the truck and slammed my door, beeping the locks, then guiding me to some stairs.

  He was quiet. He seemed mellow.

  I was mellow and that all had to do with good food, champagne, and Merry.

  But as we walked, it started to wear off.

  I was a sure thing. He knew I was a sure thing.

  That didn’t bother me.

  But the last time we went at each other, I’d been out of my head drunk.

  I’d liked it.

  He’d liked it.

  But still, we’d both been slaughtered.

  I was not a girl who had too many hang-ups about sex. I went for it. I let the spirit move me. Sometimes I got good back. Sometimes who I was with didn’t work for me.

  Right then, the only sex I’d had in years was a shitfaced session with Merry and, before that, fucked-up sex with Denny Lowe. But never, not ever had I been with someone who’d meant something (except Merry).

  Sure, I thought Lowe did. And I thought Trent did.

  But now I knew.

  So yes, fuck yes, I was beginning to feel panicky.

  All this filled my head on the way up the stairs and it kept filling my head as Merry walked me down the landing. It continued to fill my head as he let my hand go and let us in his place, throwing the door open for me.

  I walked into the dark, but it wasn’t dark for long because Merry hit a switch and a not very attractive chandelier came on over a dining room table to my right.

  Beyond that was essentially a galley kitchen, the “essentially” part because one side of the galley was not closed off but opened to the rest of the space, which was a living room. But it was still tiny.

  The furniture was of decent quality, comfortable but sparse.

  And I’d been right in my imaginings—Merry had a huge TV.

  But other than a couch, a recliner, some end tables with lamps, a dining room table, some stools at the bar, and a media center, there was nothing.

  No seascapes on the walls. No gun racks. No personality. No nothing.

  Except some DVDs and CDs stacked in the shelves around the TV with three frames set amongst them.

  Merry moved to a lamp in the living room and I moved to the only things that might give me insight into Merry.

  On my way, I dropped my wrap and my purse in the seat of the recliner. I stopped at the first frame.

  I saw, not surprisingly, that it was a photo of Merry, Rocky, and their dad, Dave Merrick. Dave was sitting. Merry and Rocky were leaning over his shoulders. I could see Merry’s arm around Rocky. All of them were smiling at the camera.

  He looked younger, so did Rocky. It was definitely before I’d met him.

  And the only thing it gave me that I didn’t already know was that Merry was hot ten, twelve years ago.

  Not a surprise.

  But he’d gotten better with age.

  I looked to the other photo and it was a picture of Merry in a big, comfortable-looking chair, looking up at the camera, smiling beautifully, a wrapped bundle of baby held tight against his chest.

  Merry and his niece, Cecelia.

  Proud uncle.

  I knew that too.

  I moved across the front of the TV to get to the pictures on the other side.

  This was a triple-frame spread across the shelf, the only thing in the space.

  Center frame, a formal picture of Rocky and Tanner at their wedding, surrounded by Merry in his groomsman tux, Dave, Vera, Devin, and Tanner’s sons with his first wife, Jasper and Tripp.

  Right frame, Tanner and Merry, arms around each other’s shoulders, far less formally posed but still taken by the wedding photographer in the same location as the middle picture.

  The left frame, Merry in his groomsman tux and Rocky in her wedding dress. He held her in both arms; she’d wrapped hers around him. Her cheek was to his shoulder, their eyes aimed at the camera. Both of them were smiling, but Rocky looked like she was also crying.

  I knew Rocky put that spread together for her brother. It was likely she’d framed the other pictures for him too.

  And it shook me that all he had, all that was him in his pad, was his father, his sister, his niece, and his sister’s extended family.

  I was so deep in this thought, it surprised me to feel Merry’s heat at my back, his hand touch my waist, and his lips at my ear, saying, “Best day of my life.”

  I stared at the photo, letting those words move through me, wanting to believe. Wanting to believe that was true and not that he felt that way about the day he’d married Mia.

  “Finally, one Merrick had the guts to hang on to happy,” he finished.

  I turned, and he lifted his head as he took that opportunity to trail his hand along my waist so it lay light on the small of my back.

  “It’s cool your sister has that, Merry,” I told him, and his lips curled up.

  “More than cool for her, babe.”

  “Yeah, but best day of your life?” I pushed carefully.

  He looked beyond me to the frame, then back to me as his left hand hit the other side of my waist.

  “Lucky for me, I’m not dead yet.”

  I lifted my hands and rested them on his chest, curling my lips up as well.

  “Right about now, that’s lucky for me too.”

  His grin got bigger but only for a moment before it faded.

  “You okay, sweetheart?”

  He was reading me.

  I drew in a big breath before I shared, “Ethan’s at Meems’s. Weekday sleepover.”

  His left hand slid to my back as his right one put pressure on.

  My voice was weird, small, and trembling, as I admitted, “I’m givin’ up a morning. She’s gettin’ him to school.”

  “You’re givin’ up a morning with your kid…for me.” He said that, and the way he said it, I knew he knew how big that was for me.

  Then again, I’d already taught him that lesson the hard way.

  “So I got my brown-eyed girl all night,” he murmured, his eyes falling to my mouth.

  I slid a hand up to his neck and his eyes came back to mine.

  With the movement of my hand, I meant to delay. I meant to get his attention. I meant to do this so I could say something.

  But when he looked at me after the night he’d given me, and he’d already given me so much that I’d never had—taking me to a swish restaurant, telling me I looked phenomenal, kissing my hand in his truck, laying things out for me honestly, making me laugh, laughing with me—I couldn’t say what I needed to say. I couldn’t tell him how much this meant to me. I couldn’t tell him I was the kind of girl who’d never dreamed because, even when I was little, I always knew I was the kind of girl who’d be stupid to dream.

  I could never tell him that standing right there in his arms, in his personality-less living room, it was a dream I’d never dared to dream come true.

  I couldn’t tell him that.

  So I said, “Thanks for dinner.”

  I watched something move through his blue eyes. Something beautiful. Something I instantly wanted the power to rewind life so I could hit pause and stare at it for as long as I pleased.

  “You’re welcome, Cherie,” he whispered.

  I stared in his eyes.

  God, did he know?

  Did he know that he was the dream come true a girl like me would never dare to dream?

  I kept staring into his eyes, trying to see if that was the case, as I slid my hand up so I could stroke his jaw with my thumb.

  He let me.

  Then he shared he wanted other things.

  “Wanna kiss you, honey.”

  “Then kiss me, Merry.”

  “No.”

  I felt my head give a slight twitch.


  “No?” I asked.

  “No,” he repeated. “Need you to get this, Cher. I wanna kiss you. But right now, I wanna kiss you because you’re standin’ in my arms, lookin’ up at me the way you’re lookin’ up at me. I definitely wanna kiss the girl who loves to make me laugh. And I wanna kiss the girl who put that dress on for me. I also wanna kiss you because after I kiss you, I’m gonna take you to my bed and I’m gonna fuck you. But you need to know, in this instant, I wanna kiss you because you’re the girl you are right now, the way you are right now, lookin’ up at me.”

  Oh God.

  I wasn’t hiding anything.

  He knew.

  “Merry,” I whispered.

  He bent his head and slid his nose down the side of mine, his lips a breath away, his blue eyes becoming my whole world.

  “Wanna kiss you,” he whispered back.

  God, God…Merry.

  “Then kiss me, baby.”

  I lost his eyes as he angled his head and kissed me.

  It wasn’t hard and rough and demanding, pushing me to go where he wanted me to be.

  It wasn’t soft and sweet and gushy, making our moment gooey instead of the beauty that it was.

  It was wet and long and tender, the perfect kiss to end the perfect date with the perfect guy.

  And when he lifted his head, I knew he was intent on keeping that perfect going when he let me go but took my hand and, without a word, walked me toward the hall that fed off his living room.

  I followed him down the hall and into a dark room. I followed him through that dark room and I stopped with him, feeling his hand release mine.

  He bent to turn on a light and I didn’t take anything in.

  I noticed the bed and that was all there needed to be.

  He was turned to me and he was shrugging off the jacket of his dark gray suit, fully exposing the electric-blue shirt underneath.

  I knew what to give him. I knew what men wanted. I knew where to go, how to lead him there with me. I knew it better than anybody.

  And I was good at giving it.

  So when his hands lifted to the top buttons of his shirt, I held his eyes and put my hands to the front of my thighs, curling my fingers in.

  The second I did, his hands dropped from his shirt and he took the single step he needed to be in my space.

  “No, baby,” he murmured.

  Again…

  No?

  He put his hands to my waist and slid them down, whispering, “I know you aren’t gonna make me sit across from you in that dress all through dinner and then take away my opportunity to take it off you.”

  My breath caught and I felt a flood of wet between my legs.

  I might know how to give it good.

  But Merry knew how to give it better.

  He slid his hands back up along my sides as he held my gaze. Then he bent in.

  My lips parted in preparation, but his just brushed mine before they trailed along my cheek, my jaw. He touched his tongue to my ear, causing a shiver to tremble through me before he lifted his head and caught my eyes.

  It was then he watched me as he glided his hands back to my waist, down to my hips. They didn’t clench in. They pressed in, lifting up, taking the silky, stretchy fabric with them so it slithered up my legs.

  Oh God. That felt good. Good enough that I had to hang on or I was going to go down.

  Instead, I decided to concentrate on something, so I lifted my hands to the buttons of his shirt.

  He dipped in again and gave me a short, wet kiss, a touch of the tongues.

  I got one button undone and was down to the next as he slid my dress all the way up to my hips.

  I was breathing heavier as I got the next button undone. That was when he moved his mouth to my neck, his hands back, down, up, and in the hem of my dress that was now at my ass. Then he pushed his hands down, and cupped my ass as his teeth nipped the skin of my neck.

  Oh yes.

  More good.

  I gave up on the buttons because I had no choice. My legs were failing. I curled my hands in his shirt and leaned into his body, pressing my breasts to his chest.

  He moved his mouth to my ear.

  “Lift your arms, Cherie.”

  I uncurled my fingers and lifted my arms.

  Merry drew back and slid the dress slowly the rest of the way, exposing most of me because I wasn’t wearing a bra, though I had on a lacy black thong.

  His eyes dropped to me as he tossed the dress aside. Then his hands came back at the sides of my upper ribs and slid down as his gaze roamed.

  God, he didn’t even need to touch me.

  God, I’d never gone this slow. Never been this turned on, not with virtually nothing happening.

  I’d never wanted something so badly.

  No, someone.

  “Merry,” I whispered, and even I could hear the need dripping from his name.

  His eyes cut back to mine and I couldn’t beat back my gasp at the hungry blaze I saw burning deep before his fingers dug into my flesh, lifting.

  I hopped up as he brought me to him, shifting. I curled my legs around his hips and he put a knee in the bed, his mouth coming to mine.

  My back met bed as his mouth opened over mine and his tongue slid inside.

  From then, it didn’t go any less slow. Merry guiding, me following his lead, we touched. We kissed. We tasted. We trailed. I got his shirt off him. He separated long enough to rid himself of his shoes and socks. He gently dragged my panties down my legs. I went after his belt and held his gaze as he lay on his back in the bed and bucked his hips while I pulled his trousers and boxers down his.

  Naked, it didn’t go any faster. It wasn’t about experience. Feeding the need. Taking what you wanted. Getting into your head and getting lost in the feeling.

  It also wasn’t exploring.

  It was memorizing.

  Basking.

  Worshiping.

  I was so into him, it was unreal. Listening. Watching. What a touch would do. The trail of my tongue. The nip of my teeth. The stroke of my hand.

  I was dragging my lips along the crisp hair over the hard muscle of his stomach with a destination in mind when he pulled me up and showed me he was where I was.

  That being, he was so into me, it was unreal. Listening. Watching. What his touch did to me. The trail of his tongue. The nip of his teeth. The stroke of his hand.

  It might have been fifteen minutes; it might have been three hours. All I knew was by the time he was finally ready to give me what I needed, I was more ready to get it than I’d ever been in my life.

  And even that he gave me in a way only Merry could give me.

  He righted us in his bed, my head to his pillows, strangely proper, powerfully proper, like this time, our first time as an us, taking a shot at what we could be, he was going to do it right.

  He reached toward the nightstand, his eyes never leaving mine.

  I curled my legs around his thighs, careful of the shoes I was still wearing, not wanting to spike him with a heel, my arms gliding around his back, my gaze locked to his.

  He kept it that way as his lips fell to mine and he murmured, “Take care of this for me, baby.”

  He found my hand and pressed the condom in it.

  I didn’t fuck around unwrapping it.

  But when I brought it between us and found his cock, I took my time rolling it on.

  I watched the hunger burn in his eyes and my erratic breathing became panting, feeling his thick cock pulse under my fingers.

  When I got the condom to the base, he nipped my lower lip with his teeth.

  Shit yeah.

  I tightened my hold on him with my limbs, through all this our eyes connected. They stayed connected as I slid him through my wet, touching my tongue to my lower lip as his teeth sunk into his.

  God, fucking, fucking Merry.

  Just that…so hot.

  I led him to my opening and he immediately pushed in half an inch.

  I let
out a soft gust of breath, sliding my hand away, across his hip, around, up his spine, into his hair.

  When I had a hold, slowly—God, so unbelievably, beautifully slowly—Garrett Merrick filled me.

  Connected with me.

  Became a part of me.

  I stared at him and felt it. Felt him inside. Felt his heat. His weight. Felt his arms wrapped around me. Felt my body wrapped around him.

  I felt all that and I felt something else.

  My eyes were not burning. No dryness. No pain.

  They were wet.

  Merry stared into them, the heat in his not waning but a new warmth joining it, before his head slanted and he kissed me.

  Then he made love to me.

  I was far from a virgin.

  But that was my first time.

  My first time ever.

  My first time where a man thought enough about me to make love to me.

  It was slow. It was tender. It included wet kisses. Eye contact. Silent communication. I touched him, clutched him, held him to me.

  He drove deep and rhythmic, his arms wrapped around me.

  It was there but it built, the slow, constant pounding of him against my clit, his cock inside me. When it started to come over me, I knew it was going to happen with just his cock and it was going to be bigger than anything.

  “Merry,” I whispered, my hand moving from his ass up to his hair, my fingers clenching.

  He stroked in and, suddenly, it bolted through me.

  “Merry,” I gasped, his mouth hitting mine, his tongue touching the tip of mine, and I moaned down his throat.

  The slow left him and he went faster, harder, driving into me, pounding deep, bodies connected, mouths connected, his tongue now as greedy as his cock thrusting inside, my orgasm swelling and hovering.

  I kept hold on his hair, my legs curling tight around his thighs, my arm slanting across his back, fingers pressing in the muscle of his lat, anchoring him to me as whimpers escaped, filling his mouth, my body under his trembling.

  When finally he broke the kiss but not the connection of our lips, his grunts mingling with my whimpers.

  He planted his cock deep and groaned, “Cher,” before his body bucked and his growl of release filled my mouth.

  After he gave me that, he tore his mouth from mine and thrust once more, hard and deep, while he moved to press his forehead into the side of my neck.