The Pieces Of Us (The Firebird Trilogy Book 3)

by Jennifer Loring

  “I’m on the pill.”

  “Okay. I don’t have any, you know, diseases or anything.”

  “I don’t either.” Anya tugged on his jeans, a silent command to shed them. Compliant, he chucked them and his underwear into the middle of the room. She lifted her hips. One pump, leaving his cock embedded in her while he sucked at her earlobe, her neck, her shoulder. Another pump. Her eyes rolled back. The tenderness in her pussy had zero impact on her appetite for more.

  “Sit up,” she said. Lucas withdrew and repositioned himself, his cock greased with her fluids. They gazed at each other as she sat astride him, bouncing up and down on his lap. Kissing him, roaming her hands over his shoulders, his chest, and through his hair. His collarbone sported a teeth-shaped bruise the color of eggplant.

  “You’re a beast,” he whispered.

  “Shut up and kiss me.” Anya rubbed her breasts over his chest as he clutched her hips and attacked her throat with his teeth and tongue. She ground her clit against him, moaned across his lips as the pulses in her core amplified.

  Their breathing fell into sync. They rocked together, Lucas supported on one arm with the other hooked around her waist. He bucked his hips but let her control the movement and pace. Her neck and face prickled where his stubble scraped her during the roughest of their kisses, and her skin shivered as if someone were holding her to a live circuit.

  “I like the way you look at me.”

  “Well, I like looking at you.” Apparently, he liked her boobs, which were jiggling right in front of his face, most of all. He captured the tight bud of her nipple in his mouth and clamped his lips around it.

  She arched her back and burnished her clit against him. So close…

  Lucas swept her hair out of her face. “You gonna come for me, baby?”

  “Yes,” she grunted. And did—furiously, screamingly, more powerful than before thanks to Lucas inside her, blossoming with his own incipient orgasm. Heat exploded through her. She shuddered, writhed, clung to him lest she topple off the bed.

  And the way he called her “baby.” Not her father’s sweet, paternal pet name but a purred appellation dripping with sex. Which she now wanted to have all day, every day.

  Lucas was smiling, but his expression transformed quickly. Low groans issued from the back of his throat. He closed a hand on the back of her neck and brought her face to his, his other hand braced behind him so he could give her one last, deep thrust, and spilled into her. She tried to count the spasms but lost track as his moans streamed into her mouth.

  “Goddamn.” Lucas nibbled on her lips. “You fuck like a champ.” He dumped her onto her back and lay on top of her. Her phone kept ringing as he peppered her face, neck, and breasts with kisses. Especially her breasts and the rosy, pebble-hard nipples he tongue-lashed with the same exuberance he had her clit.

  She sifted his hair through her fingers. “I have to call him.”

  He sat up with one of her legs draped over his lap. “Can you stay for breakfast?”

  “Absolutely.” Anya dug her phone out of her bag as Lucas headed for the bathroom. Water splashed in the sink. She pressed Dad’s number.

  “I know I said I wouldn’t worry,” he blurted before she’d even gotten out Hi, Dad, “but I was out of my mind when you wouldn’t answer.”

  Either Hannah had left already or she was still asleep. Dad didn’t pass up an opportunity to shower with a woman. “I’m fine, Dad. And I’m sorry I made you worry. I’ll be home in a little while.”

  “That’s it?”

  She pinched her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “I’m eighteen, remember? I’m out of high school now. We’ll talk when I get home.”

  He was still babbling when she hung up. Anya dropped the phone into her bag, then collected her scattered clothes. Lucas whistled behind her, and she slowed down to give him a show. Bending over for a full view, she gathered her dress from the floor, peeking between her knees to see him lick his lips.

  “Work it, girl.” His unbelted jeans hung low on his hips, his V-cut channeling toward the part of him her body had somehow reshaped itself to fit, so vividly did she feel him inside her. With a smirk pasted on his luscious mouth, he sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup. He kissed the intersection of her neck and shoulder. “Wish I didn’t have to get on the road so soon. Now that I’ve seen you naked, I’m going to get a boner every time I think about you. Although that was sort of happening anyway.”

  Laughing, Anya shook her head and helped him pack. And if he didn’t put on a shirt soon, she was going to throw him down on the bed and do things she’d seen only on porn sites.

  They sat at the table and shared a quiet breakfast, though Lucas complained he’d have to piss five times on the way home if he drank any more coffee. Their eyes and smiles did most of the talking. She ran the edge of her sandal up and down his calf.

  Lucas swiped his tongue over his lips and cleared his throat. “Plans for the summer?”

  “My dad and I will probably go to Russia to visit my grandparents for a couple weeks. Other than that, working out and helping him get the house ready to sell.”

  “Oh, wow. Why is he selling it?”

  A family of five paraded through the parking lot, the three shrieking kids ensuring everyone was aware of their presence, even if it was with head shakes, stink-eyes, and mumbled expletives. Anya curled her lip.

  “Not a fan?”

  “I hate kids.”

  “Good to know.” He held her gaze over his coffee cup for an interval that bordered on unnerving.

  What does that mean? Deal-breaker? “Anyway, it’s too big for him, and he’s getting arthritis in his ankle. It’s for the best. One floor. Elevators.”

  Lucas tilted his head. “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “I’ve spent my whole life in that house. And my mom…” Anya crumpled her napkin and tossed it onto her plate. “You know.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to reopen the wound.”

  “No—it’s fine. It’s just been”—she blew out a breath—“a very eventful year.”

  “It sure has.” He glanced at his phone and frowned. “Gotta hit the road.” He tossed their garbage into the can beside the desk and hoisted his overnight bag.

  Which he released as soon as they were standing beside the Honda, so he could thread his fingers through her hair and slide his mouth over hers, his tongue seeking and finding. She ran her hands down his body, over the back of his jeans, and squeezed his ass as an erection bloomed against her.

  “Told you,” he said in her ear.

  Anya pressed her face to his neck. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “Hey. I’m gonna call and text you every day. Unless that’s creepy.”

  She giggled. “You were engaged once. You’re better at this than I am.”

  “You’re great at this. I can tell already. And thank you for not letting my bullshit get in the way.”

  “If I learned anything from my parents, it’s not to give up on something you want.” She raised her eyes to his.

  Lucas smiled and tapped her nose. “You look like you’re dying to say something. Ten bucks says I know what it is.”

  He ought to. She’d tried twice already. “I mean, you were right, you know? We’ve hardly spent any real time together outside of school. And saying it first puts me in a vulnerable position.”

  “I like when you’re in vulnerable positions.” Lucas kissed the ticklish spot between her ear and jaw that could have persuaded her, with little compunction, to fuck him in the parking lot in broad daylight. “But you should get it off your chest and find out.”

  Anya gave him a playful shove. “You’re screwing with me.”

  “I wish. But I believe you had something to say?”

  She wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t want to be that girl, you know? The one who thinks she’s in love with someone because she slept with him.”

  “I’m not your first. And how did you feel about me the past ten
months?”

  He had her there. Something shallow like lust or infatuation would have languished and died long ago. Thanks to Dad, she met tons of guys: hockey players’ sons, young draft picks. Even Mike had begged for another chance. Boy after boy, and she could not clear her mind of Lucas. “I tried to tell you at your Christmas party, and at prom, but you wouldn’t let me.”

  “So now you won’t. Did I make you that afraid of rejection?” Lucas crinkled his nose. “I…” He moistened his lips. Gnawed on them. Then he took Anya’s face into his hands and closed his eyes, moving in for another kiss. His tongue breached her lips, curled with hers in a seductive in-and-out dance that mimicked their earlier activities. “I really like you. And I might be ready to say that other thing sooner than you think.”

  Thanks to her many years in journalism, Mom had been well-versed in micro-expressions; one of the first things she’d taught Anya was how to spot a liar. Having a baseline of their normal behavior made it easier to determine deception, and Lucas was not by nature an anxious person. No darting of eyes or rapid blinking, no looking to the right or scratching his cheek.

  Was he sweating? Another sign, though not out of place on an already humid, typical Western New York summer morning. The sun glared down at them, and the tiny diamonds in his ears glimmered. She cast a furtive glance at the armpits of his T-shirt. So far so dry.

  “Me too.” Anya sealed her lips over his.

  “On that delicious note,” Lucas said against her mouth, “I unfortunately have to go. I’ll call you when I get home.”

  “Drive safe.” With one hand on his bristly cheek, she pecked his lips again.

  “Okay. I’m leaving before you make it impossible.” Lucas hugged her and sneaked his hands down to her ass. “You temptress. I’ll see you in a couple months. Oh, and check your bag.”

  Once buckled into the driver’s seat, he waved before pulling away and navigating to the street. Despite the urge to cry, Anya allowed herself a smile. Two months was no time at all. And after that, they’d have all the time in the world.

  Buckled into the Mercedes, she recalled Lucas’s odd request and opened her bag. She pulled out a sheet of hotel stationery stuffed inside and, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, burst into joyous laughter.

  I love you.

  See? Sooner than you thought.

  —Lucas

  I love you. Three words, the most beautiful sonata ever written, and her heart could not help but sing along.

  ***

  Alex

  Anya, beaming, pranced through the front door. He knew that expression. Not to boast about his sexual prowess, but he’d seen it on Stephanie’s face more times than he could count. Which meant Anya hadn’t stayed at Hailey’s, couldn’t even be honest with him, and it set his blood to a boil rivaling the water in the samovar.

  “Morning, Dad.”

  He tried to uncurl his fists, but they’d soldered themselves to his hips. “Good morning. Where the hell have you been?”

  “Okay. Don’t get mad. Please?” She tossed her disheveled hair over her shoulders. “Lucas was in town last night. I…spent the night with him.”

  “O, Bozhe,” he moaned.

  “He took a job in Boston so we could be together. He loves me, Dad. And I love him.”

  Tea. He needed more tea. All his mental preparations had amounted to naught when she flounced in here bringing the reality of her newfound adulthood with her. There was no going back, no pretending. Life had been changing them at a steady and irrevocable pace since Stephanie’s death, reshaping their relationship even as they fought it kicking and screaming in their own ways.

  Alex collected himself through the mindless distraction of stirring jam into his tea. “I know you do. I guess I’m just…not ready for you to grow up all in the space of twenty-four hours. So. He came down from Boston to tell you all this?”

  “Yeah. He’s amazing, Dad. You’ll see as soon as you spend more time with him.”

  He knew that look too. The brightness of her skin, her eyes. The silly grin. She’d caught it as badly as her parents had.

  “He’s even training to compete in the Summer Games.”

  Alex smiled. She’d taken one bit of advice, at least—don’t expect anyone who isn’t a working athlete to understand the costs of being one. He tested the tea and added a bit more jam. “So…he used protection?” He grimaced as he choked out the words.

  “Oh, God.” Anya covered her face. She set her bag on the counter and walked toward the stairs. “I’m taking a shower.”

  “Wait, milaya.”

  She even appeared different. No longer the gawky, gangly teenager who cursed her height on a daily basis, but a confident young woman learning to own all the things that made her unique.

  Or she’d been that young woman all along, and he had refused to see it because he needed his little girl to stick around just a bit longer.

  “We’ve had a rough time since your mom died, and I’m working on this whole ‘you’re an adult now’ thing, I swear. So bear with me. You’re not a child anymore, but I’ll always be your papa.”

  Anya smiled. “I haven’t shown it much lately, but I’m proud to be your daughter.”

  “Get upstairs before you make your old man cry.” Alex sipped his tea to prevent just that. “When you’re dressed, we’ll figure out a good time to go to Rossiya next month.”

  “Rossiya,” Anya announced in a deep voice meant to mock his, with a copious embellishment of the rolling R. She provided a dramatic flourish of her hand, then spun away and climbed the stairs. The promise ring flashed from its rightful place on her finger.

  It was time for him to have a little more faith in people too.

  Alone again, he appraised the kitchen, the house, the life to which he was saying goodbye. He pulled the rings out of his shirt and slipped Stephanie’s onto his pinkie, or at least to the second joint. Her fingers had been tiny compared to his. He chuckled and kissed the platinum band.

  “Am I doing the right thing? She’s leaving, and the house is so big…” Meant for a family. A house like this had one purpose, and a widower with a grown daughter was not it.

  She was speaking in his heart as always, if he listened closely enough. And in his heart, she told him, Yes. It’s time to go.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alex

  He had dreamed often of Stephanie over the past two years. Once the deathbed dreams faded, she came to him in fields of wildflowers against a backdrop of gray clouds, a billowing series of Rorschach inkblots he did not care to interpret. She would not approach him. And no matter how far he ran, how he pleaded for her, she remained forever on the horizon. You’re not ready, she said, her voice echoing in his mind even as he awoke.

  Anya was leaving in the morning. Alex went to sleep with Hannah beside him and his heart heavy with the first of fall’s major transformations. His mind, awash with medication and stress, conjured vision upon vision of impending doom. Night sweats soaked the sheets beneath him. Accidents. Unplanned pregnancy. Himself, hoary and alone because Hannah had come to her senses. He didn’t possess the emotional currency to afford another go.

  Everything is all right, baby. It will be fine. I promise.

  He rolled over.

  Stephanie lay where he knew Hannah was supposed to be. She was soft, unfocused. A heavenly light shimmered in her smile, enveloping him in its transcendent serenity.

  Now you don’t have to dream about me anymore. She touched a finger to his lips, and tears spilled down his cheeks. I love you so much. And I’ll always be with both of you.

  “Don’t leave me again, baby. Please.”

  You’re ready. You’re strong. You aren’t afraid anymore.

  You have to go on without me.

  “Alex?”

  His eyes flew open.

  Hannah was stroking his arm. “You were talking in your sleep.” She wiped away the wetness on his cheeks. “Oh, honey, what were you dreaming about?”
r />   He blinked. Grasped at shreds of it scuttling away like the ragged edge of a thundercloud. Gone. In its place, tranquility unlike anything he’d experienced since Stephanie’s diagnosis. Something had happened, something he ought to remember. Or that was the whole point. He had been granted a reprieve from his guilt, his grief, at last. He could rest.

  Alex lugged himself into a sitting position and rubbed the side of his head. His medication made him so drowsy he rarely woke in the night anymore. It must have been important, but not enough to recall it from the depths into which it had sunk, or to override the urge to go back to sleep. Only the byproducts remained, like retinal spots from staring at the sun.

  Hannah arched a brow. In the dim light, he watched the pale hills of her breasts rising and falling above the neckline of her lacy chemise. He changed his mind about sleep.

  “Everything is good.” He hooked a finger under one strap. Hannah flashed one of her come-hither smiles and, drawing him into a sumptuous kiss, tugged him onto her.

  ***

  The For Sale sign creaked in a gentle breeze chilled with its impending farewell to summer. And Anya was ready to say goodbye to it as well, evident as soon as Lucas, who had arrived in town late last night, pulled into the driveway with a cargo van. She flung herself into his arms, kissed him, and Alex acquiesced once and for all to the likelihood she was not coming home for summer break. Boston College required her to live on campus for the first year. She and Lucas planned to rent their own place after that.

  He sighed more heavily than he’d meant to, and Hannah rubbed his arm.

  “You okay?”

  “Transition. That’s the whole point of life. Been through it so many times, you’d think it wouldn’t bother me anymore.”

  “It’s different when it’s your kids. You still want to protect them, and you know you can’t.”

  He had little to fear; in fact, he could ask for nothing more than that Anya wouldn’t be alone in an unfamiliar city. Even if the age difference bothered him for at least a couple more years, for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint and which made no real sense.