“We all handle stress in our own way. Maybe the reality of almost losing my only brother is just now hitting me.”
“But he’s fine, mija.”
“I’ll feel better when I see him with my own eyes.”
“That’s them,” said my dad, pointing to a plane taxiing in our direction. When I glanced over at Tackle’s parents, my eyes met Alice’s. She smiled, almost as if she knew I was looking forward to seeing her son as much as my brother.
A crew was waiting to roll a stairway over to the plane after it came to a stop. When the cabin door opened, a man I recognized but wasn’t my brother or Tackle, was the first person to step off. His name was Razor Sharp, and he was one of the owners of the company Knox worked for. When he was almost to the bottom stair, an ambulance drove up and parked. Razor walked over to it at the same time I saw my brother come out the door.
“There he is!” squealed my mother. “¡Gracias a Dios!”
As I’d anticipated, my eyes filled with tears. He looked a little worse for wear, but not like he’d lived through a plane crash. I gasped when, moments later, Tackle joined him.
He was as battered and bruised as Knox, but he was as beautiful as I’d ever seen him.
He’d grown from a boy to a man in the fifteen years I’d known him. His shoulders were broader, his neck thicker, his arms and legs visibly sculpted even under his clothes and at a distance. One of my favorite things about him was how quickly and easily he smiled—like he was now. Even if he weren’t wearing sunglasses, I wouldn’t be able to tell who in our huddled group had caught his eye, but in my fantasies, his gaze belonged solely to me.
They’d told us not to, but my mother raced forward to hug my brother anyway. I looked up at my father. As always, the look on his face as he watched her conveyed his love. Like me, his eyes filled with tears as we watched her embrace my brother.
She motioned for us to come closer, and we did. My father hugged Knox while Tackle’s father did the same to his son. Over his dad’s shoulder, my eyes met the man’s I’d loved for as long as I could remember.
I could conjure endless silly fantasies about what his expression meant. Had coming so close to death made him realize he loved me as much as I loved him? Was he as impatient as I to finally feel my body next to his when we got our chance to embrace?
My father’s arm brushed mine when he let go of my brother.
“Come here, you,” Knox said, pulling me against him. “I love you, Sloane. You know that, right?”
“I love you too, Knox.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been a better brother to you.”
I squeezed him. “You’ve always been the best brother a girl could have.”
He pulled back and looked into my eyes. “I want us to spend more time together.”
“I’d like that.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother approach Tackle and, behind me, Alice waiting to embrace Knox.
I took a step back, unsure what I should do next. Should I hang around? Go inside and wait?
After my dad hugged Tackle and slapped his back, both men turned to me. “Go ahead, Sloane,” said Nils, who I hadn’t seen standing beside me. “He’s practically your brother too.”
I took a couple of steps forward and walked into the open arms of a man I’d never once viewed that way.
“Sloane,” he whispered, pulling me close and hugging me harder than Knox had. Every nerve ending, every hair, every cell of my body tingled as I sunk into his embrace. “We need to talk.”
When I pulled back to ask what about, I saw Knox watching us.
“Later,” Tackle added as I nodded, let go, and stepped away.
“I want you to come home for a while,” my mother said, putting her arm through Knox’s as we walked into the terminal.
“I will, soon, I promise.”
“What do you mean?”
My brother put his hands on our mother’s shoulders. “Right now, Onyx needs us.” He motioned with his head to where a gurney was being rolled over to the waiting ambulance.
Instead of arguing with him like I, and probably he, expected her to, my mother nodded and looked over at Tackle’s parents.
“Will you be staying on too?” I heard Alice ask her son.
When Tackle looked first at my brother, then at me, and back at his mother, I felt my cheeks flush. “I’m coming home for a few days,” he murmured.
“You are?” Knox asked.
Tackle nodded. “For a few days,” he repeated.
3
Tackle
If we were alone, I’d tell Halo to fuck off. I might even ask him why spending time with a guy in a coma was more important than being with his family. But we weren’t alone, and if I hurled all the anger I was feeling at the man who’d been my best friend for more than half of my life, especially in front of our families, it would lead to questions I couldn’t answer.
Every single person—my mother, my father, her parents, her brother, hell, even the other people milling about in the terminal—who kept me away from Sloane made me angry. All I could think about was grabbing her hand and getting the fuck out of here.
I couldn’t explain the unrelenting need I felt from the minute I looked out the door of the plane and saw her waiting with my family and hers. All I knew was that I couldn’t deny I craved her in the same way I’d craved a single drink of water a year ago when I was taken hostage by a band of pirates in the Somali desert. Like then, I needed it—her—to go on living.
I’d told Halo there was a woman, who I wasn’t sure felt the same way I did. I hadn’t lied. Would Sloane think I’d lost my mind when we were finally alone and I pushed her up against the nearest wall and kissed her like my life depended on it?
I couldn’t think about that. If I did, I might not go through with what I had planned, and I had to.
“I’d ask if you’re okay, but I know you’re not,” my father said, resting his hand on my shoulder.
“You’re right.”
“Is there anything your mother and I can do?”
“Give me space.” It was the same thing I’d told my parents after I was rescued in Somalia and returned home. The thing I needed then, like now, was space, time alone, room to breathe. No. That wasn’t right. I didn’t need time alone; I needed time with Sloane. Just the two of us.
My eyes met her questioning ones. The last time I had touched her in a non-brotherly way was the night of her senior prom. She’d looked so damn pretty when I showed up after I drove to her house like my car was on fire, so I wouldn’t be late.
That day, Halo had walked into the living room of the apartment he and I shared, looking perplexed.
“What’s up?” I’d asked.
“I just got off the phone with my mom. Sloane’s date for the prom has the flu.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s her senior prom, man. My mom wants me to fly home and take her, but I’ve gotta work. Plus, Sloane would never agree to it. I don’t know what would be worse. Not going or going with your brother.”
“I’ll do it,” I’d said without thinking.
“You will?”
I told Halo I’d planned to visit my parents that weekend anyway. It wouldn’t be a big deal to spend a few hours at a dance.
He hadn’t believed my lie about visiting my parents any more than I thought he would, but his only response was to pat me on the back and thank me.
After we all said goodbye to Knox—my best friend, her older brother—we caught the next flight back to Boston. The six of us were on our way to the parking structure after the quick flight when I pulled out my phone and typed a text. Meet me later?
Sloane’s eyes met mine. Where?
Where? That was a good question. How would she respond if I asked her to meet me at the Old Orchard Inn? Would she think I’d lost my mind? I sure as hell felt like I had. Instead, I sent her the name of the diner we’d all hung out at as kids.
What time? she messaged back.
An hour? If I had too much time to think about this, I’d probably convince myself that being alone with my best friend’s kid sister was the stupidest thing I’d ever done.
I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.
“Hey, Dad?” I heard Sloane say when we walked up to our parents’ cars, which were parked next to each other. “I need to go into the office for a few hours. Would you mind catching a ride with the Sorensons so Tackle can drop me off there?”
“We can drop you,” her father answered.
“There are some things I need to take care of in the city before I head home anyway,” I offered.
“I have a better idea,” said my father. “You take our car, and we’ll catch a ride with Ben and Carolina.” He tossed me the keys.
I had no idea if my father had an inkling of what was really going on. He didn’t let on like he did. My mother’s look, though, made me pray she kept quiet.
“I’ll be home later,” I said, walking over to hug her.
“If anything changes, let us know, so we don’t worry,” she whispered.
When Sloane walked to the passenger side of my parents’ car, I followed and opened it for her.
She didn’t say anything, and neither did I, but the air was thick between us. Was she thinking the same things I was? Did she want me the way I wanted her? Or did she think we were just going to “talk” like I’d said earlier?
“Where to?” I asked after our parents left and I was about to back the car up. “Still want to go to the diner?”
Sloane shook her head. “Boylston and Park.”
“What’s there?”
“A friend’s apartment. She’s in Florida with her parents for the rest of the month.”
“Sloane—”
“Don’t talk, Tackle. Just drive.”
I was all for not talking, but I wasn’t ready to drive yet. I turned in my seat, reached over, and grabbed the back of her neck. I was close enough to kiss her, but I didn’t. I looked into her blue eyes and brushed her honey-blonde hair from her face with my free hand.
“Kiss me,” she demanded. “Before you talk yourself out of it.”
I brought my lips to hers, and for the second time in my life, I kissed her. The only other time I had was on the night I walked her to her door after her senior prom. I’d planned to kiss her cheek, but at the last second, Sloane had turned her head and kissed my mouth instead.
I held her still as I pushed my tongue between her parted lips, savoring the realness of how she felt after all the hours I’d spent fantasizing about our mouths being fused together. If I were dreaming, I would’ve put my hand under her sweater, reached inside the cups of her bra, and felt the breasts that had teased me every time I showed up at the Clarksons’ backyard pool and she came outside in her barely there bright-orange bikini.
Unable to resist, I acted out my fantasy, shuddering when I felt her pebbled nipple against my palm. I moved her clothes out of my way and took my first taste of what I’d always considered forbidden fruit.
Sloane wove her fingers in my hair and pulled. I took one more lick and looked up at her. “You urging me on or want me to stop?”
“Both,” she groaned. “But I don’t want whatever is going to happen between us to be in a car in a parking garage.”
“Me either.” I covered her perfect breast with her bra and pulled her sweater down to her waist. I was so tempted to cup her mound to feel how wet she was for me, but I resisted. I took a deep breath, put the car in gear, and backed out of the parking space.
Sloane didn’t look at me once during our drive from the airport to her friend’s apartment.
“Should I look for a place on the street?” I asked.
“Her building has parking.”
“What is she? A millionaire?” Parking places in Boston went for more than some people paid for a house. To have an apartment in a building where parking was included was like winning the damn lottery.
She turned to me and smiled, which was exactly what I’d been hoping for. “Her father owns the building, so, yeah, I guess you could say she’s worth a lot of money.”
“No roommates?”
“No roommates, and she won’t be back for a couple more weeks. I’m kind of house-sitting.”
I couldn’t think about that. The idea that I might be able to keep Sloane in bed for days on end was far too appealing.
She pointed to a driveway and pulled a remote out of her bag. The gate opened. “It’s that spot,” she said, motioning to the one closest to the elevator.
I parked, got out, and walked around the back of the car to open her door. I held my hand out to her, and she took it. “Sloane—”
She put her arms around my waist, grabbed the cheeks of my ass, and pulled me against her. “No more talking, Tackle. Unless it’s to tell me how hard you’re going to fuck me.”
I nearly came in my pants.
4
Sloane
I didn’t want to talk. Talking led to conversations. And questions—too many of which I didn’t want to answer. They would come, of course. The questions. I might talk big, but it didn’t change the fact that I was a twenty-six-year-old virgin.
I knew Tackle well enough that I doubted he’d ask me why outright. At least not at the moment.
My hand shook as I reached out to press the call button for the elevator. When it happened again once we were inside, Tackle reached out too.
“What floor?” he asked.
“Three.”
He pushed the number, turned my body to face his, and wrapped one arm around me. “Sloane, am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No.”
He put his fingertips on my chin and kissed me. The elevator fantasies I had, didn’t have time to play out during our quick three-floor ride. “It’s this way.” I pointed and led him down the hallway.
“Give me the key,” he said when I stopped in front of the door.
My friend kept the blinds closed in the apartment, so it was dark when we walked over the threshold. I would’ve preferred to keep it that way, but Tackle found a light switch and turned it on.
Before he could ask again if I was uncomfortable, I launched at him. When I practically knocked him over, I realized I may have been too eager. “Oh my God, did I hurt you?”
He laughed, steadied himself, lifted me in his arms, and carried me down the hallway, kissing me breathless as we went.
He eased us both onto the bed and immediately brought his mouth back to mine as we pulled at each other’s clothes.
He pulled away. “Sloane?”
I closed my eyes, silently begging, pleading, praying that he wasn’t about to tell me this was a bad idea or that he’d changed his mind. “What?”
“I don’t have any condoms.”
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to get out from under him.
“It isn’t okay. We can’t—”
“I do.” That wasn’t exactly true. My friend did. How did I know? I’d been looking for a Q-tip in the bathroom and was stunned to find an unopened box of size extra-large in the cabinet under the sink. I rolled off the bed.
“Wait.”
I couldn’t face him. “Tackle, please.”
“Please what?”
“Don’t.”
“Turn around.”
“Don’t,” I repeated.
“Please.”
I gripped the doorjamb and turned on my heel. I stood before him; the bottom half of my body was still clothed, and the top half was covered in only my bra. I crossed my arm over it.
His eyes met mine. “I just want to look at you. Drop your arm.” His eyes trailed down my face to my pink lace bra. “Take it off.”
I reached behind me and flicked the clasp. When it came loose, the straps slid down my arms. In the same way I’d launched myself at him, Tackle jumped off the bed, stalked over to me, and covered my bare flesh with the palms of his hands.
“You know how many times…Those damn bikinis.”<
br />
I might’ve laughed, but when he sucked my nipple into his mouth, all I could do was groan and grip his bare shoulders.
He covered my other breast with one hand while he unfastened my jeans with the other. “I need these off.” He knelt and pulled my jeans and panties down to my knees. “Getting a little ahead of myself,” he muttered as he untied my boots. “Hold on to me.”
I put my hands back on his shoulders as he took off one boot, then the other.
“Step out.”
When I did, he stood. I was completely naked, whereas he still had his pants on. I studied the cuts and bruises on his body.
“It looks worse than it is,” he said, perhaps feeling as uncomfortable with his partial nudity as I was with mine. “Where are the condoms?”
“I can get them.” Before I could walk away, Tackle grabbed my wrist. “Tell me where they are and wait for me on the bed.”
“Under the sink in the bathroom.”
He traipsed away while I pulled back the sheets and climbed under them.
When he came back in and set the box on the night table, he smiled. “You’re always hiding from me.”
“You’re the one who’s still wearing clothes.”
“Always teasing me too.”
Tackle dropped his pants, and like an idiot, I gasped.
5
Tackle
There wasn’t any question that me being naked in front of Sloane was uncomfortable—for both of us. It also didn’t come as a surprise that she wasn’t exactly the femme fatale she’d played herself off as when we got out of the car earlier. It was as though with every step she took, she turned into the shy eighteen-year-old I took to her senior prom.
That night, I knew she was innocent. It was obvious by the way she’d reacted to me holding her close when we danced. I could still recall the way her pupils had dilated and her breathing became labored the instant her body was flush with mine. She’d even apologized that her hands were sweaty.
Tackle (K19 Security Solutions) Page 2