Feel Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family)

by Cecy Robson

  “It’s not just dinner, Curran. It’s her meeting the family and . . .” I shake my head. “Christmas is next, then everything else. I want to share this time with her, I do. But not if it means putting us in a position neither of us ever wanted.”

  “You mean a position you’ve never wanted, right?”

  Curran doesn’t mess around, not when it’s real. “That’s right,” I admit through my teeth.

  “Hell, Deck. Man up,” he tells me. “Melissa is a good girl, but she’s not stupid. You start acting like you don’t want her around, you won’t have to worry about leaving her. She’ll dump your ass and you’ll fucking deserve it.”

  I watch him jog back into the house, cursing under my breath when I realize he’s right.

  CHAPTER 16

  Melissa

  I’m at my desk in the spare bedroom I use as my office, trying to pull together a proposal for a child advocacy center, but I can’t keep my mind on work. Dad’s stomach is so sensitive, all he can tolerate are those awful shakes. Every time I think he may be getting a little better, he gets a little worse. My eyes dart to the picture of me and him from the governor’s ball. This is the first year we likely won’t attend together. I only hope last year wasn’t the last.

  My phone buzzes, vibrating against my desk and giving me an excuse to turn away from the picture. “Melissa Fenske,” I say.

  “Hey, Melissa Fenske,” Declan says on the other line. “May I come in?”

  A tear sweeps over my cheek as I grin. What would I do without Declan to make me smile? I push away from my chair. “Hi, babe,” I say. “I’ll be right there.”

  Declan has the code to get into my building, but he can’t get into my apartment without a key. I’ve been thinking about asking him if he’d like my spare, but no matter how good things are between us, I still feel him holding back. I’m not, not anymore, which makes the distance he keeps between us hard to take.

  My heels click across the floor. I usually take off my shoes the minute I step inside my home. But I was in a rush to finish an email, and then I started working on the proposal . . . only for me to sit and worry about my dad.

  I’m scared it’s only a matter of time before I lose him.

  I open the door, smiling the moment I see Declan, my mood instantly lifting. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you knock.”

  “It’s all right,” he says, bending to kiss me. His lips brush sweetly against mine, although they don’t linger as long as I’d like. It doesn’t bother me, we have all night, but it does make me wonder if something’s on his mind.

  He walks beside me as we make our way in, shrugging out of his jacket. He didn’t shave today. The rugged look, though, works for him.

  I reach up and stroke the stubble along his jaw. “Are you hungry?”

  He makes a face. “I think it’s safe to say I’m never eating again.”

  “Sofia hooked you up, again?”

  “A little too well,” he says. He plops on the couch, reaching for me. “Hey, where are you going?” he asks when I edge away.

  “I have something for you.” I bounce into the kitchen and snag the large envelope from the granite counter, my pace slowing as I sit beside him. I hold up a hand when he frowns. “I swear it’s not more work. It’s from Rosana.”

  “Rosana?” he questions. He reaches in, his eyes widening when he pulls out a large piece of paper. “Holy shit.”

  “What is it?” I ask, lowering myself beside him. My eyes round as I take in the charcoal drawing. Rosana didn’t simply sketch flowers, an animal, or something I’d expect from someone her age.

  She drew a perfect likeness of Declan.

  “Oh my God,” I say, leaning in close. I’d seen Rosana’s passion for art first hand. But this is far advanced for someone her age, especially given her limited training. “Declan, it’s amazing.”

  Rosana meticulously sketched Declan sitting behind his desk, his tie loose, his sleeves rolled up his arms, and his stare intense as he leans forward. The details are incredible, and the shadowing so perfect, it resembles a photo that’s been digitally altered than something created by hand.

  He steals a glance my way. “You didn’t see it before?”

  “No. When I met with her on Friday, she seemed a little off. More quiet and shy than she has been. When she gave me the envelope she told me it was for you and made me promise I wouldn’t open it.” I shake my head. “We were both busy with meetings, and I had so many files to carry out, I forgot it in the office. I stopped by on my way home from seeing Dad when I remembered.”

  He nods like he’s listening, but doesn’t say anything, his stare appearing to take in every detail of the work.

  I wrap my arms loosely around his and place my chin on his shoulder. “That’s the day you did a practice run of all the questions you’ll be asking her on the stand.”

  “I know,” he says. “She was so quiet, I wasn’t sure if she was listening or if I was even getting through.”

  “It looks like you more than you broke through, Declan. You touched her heart.” I smile softly. “Look at the way, she captured you. She probably spent the entire meeting studying your face.”

  “Maybe . . . Man, this kid has talent. If she’s not thinking about being an artist, she should.” He rubs his jaw, but it’s in that way he does it when something’s bothering him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just . . .” His attention returns to the picture. “This was really sweet of her, but I’m not sure why she did it. I swear to Christ, every time I have to tell her something about this damn case, it’s like I’m pushing her away and closer to her breaking point.”

  “She’s fragile,” I agree. “And she’s been through too much in her life. But that has nothing to do with you.” I kiss his cheek. “If anything, she sees you as one of the few good men left in her world.” I smile fondly. Rosana not only drew a perfect likeness of Declan, she captured the strength he emanates, and flawlessly replicated the larger than life hero everyone sees. All he needs is a cape, waving in a makeshift breeze. “You earned her trust,” I whisper.

  She’s not alone. Declan has capture my heart, although I’m not certain he wants it. I don’t mean to sound negative. It’s just that as intimate as we’ve been, there’s a part of him he keeps tucked away from me. I feel it, every time we’re alone. It’s the reason I haven’t told him I love him.

  He scrutinizes the picture, growing distant. “I don’t know how.”

  “You gave her a voice,” I say. I’m trying to keep him with me, but he seems to drift further away. It makes me sad.

  Today has been exceptionally rough so I focus on the good things between us and how he’s sitting beside me. “You made her feel like she mattered―”

  “She does matter,” he interrupts, as if afraid I doubt him.

  “I know, Declan.” It’s something we both believe down to our souls. “But she likely hasn’t always felt that way. You listened to her and proved you’ll stand by her, even when her own mother wouldn’t. People like Rosana, who are hurt by those who should most love them, don’t easily let down their guards. But she did so with you.”

  I realize I’m counting myself as among those people, likely because my encounter with Dad had left me so raw.

  “I’m just doing the job,” he says.

  His modesty is sweet. When I first met him, I couldn’t get over how arrogant he seemed and couldn’t stand him because of it. As I started seeing him in action, I realized his arrogance was rightfully earned, not that it made me like him better. But the more time we spent, the more I saw that he’s simply confident, a man who prides himself on his work and steels himself with an endless source of strength. Declan is the next big thing. I just didn’t realize it right away.

  “You’re not just doing your job,” I say gently. “You’re proving to Rosana that you genuinely care about what happens to her. That’s the hardest part about working in SACU, you end up giving your h
eart, even when you trying not to.” I pause to take in the man who’s become my world. “I’m so proud of you, Declan.”

  He lowers the picture onto the table, keeping his full attention on it. But then something shifts in his stare, making me think his thoughts aren’t solely on Rosana or the gift she gave him.

  I skim my fingertip over his temple where his hair is too short to curl. “Are you all right, love?”

  He winces when I refer to him as “love.” It’s clear that’s not a word he’s ready for.

  “I need to talk to you about something,” he says, his voice so low I struggle to make out the words.

  Fear trickles down my spine, I’m not sure what he’s going to say. “What is it?” I ask.

  He bows his head as if giving a great deal of thought to what follows. I’m certain he’s ready to move on until he angles his chin to face me. “Would you like to spend Thanksgiving with me?”

  My hands fall away from his arm. His question catches me off guard, not because of the holiday, I realize it’s coming, but because of his demeanor. He doesn’t seem happy.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” he adds. “I just don’t see myself spending it without you.”

  I know what he means, but with my father so sick, I wasn’t planning on doing much. “I’d have to see how Dad’s doing,” I say. “It’s only been us for the holidays since my grandparents passed away.”

  He lifts my hand and kisses it. “I’d like him to come as well. We’re having it at Curran and Tess’s house this year. Their house and Wren’s are the only ones big enough to hold us.”

  “Your family will be there?” I ask carefully. “All of them?” He nods, his demeanor uncharacteristically solemn. But I suppose this is a big deal. “Will your mother be there as well?”

  “Yes,” he says.

  Whoa. Okay.

  Declan has been very careful when it comes to our relationship. He holds back in public, but I do as well. We both have a lot on the line holding the positions we do. It’s bad enough everyone thinks my title was handed to me because of my father. The last thing I want is for people to think I’m sleeping with the acting D.A. to hold onto my job.

  I assumed he’d eventually tell Curran about us, but . . .

  I take in his somber features. Asking me to meet his family is a lot for him. Perhaps he doesn’t realize it’s a lot for me, too. My dad is my family. I have other relatives, sure, but they live outside of Pittsburgh and we’re not close. The last time I saw them was at a cousin’s wedding when I was very young.

  My hand passes over my long skirt as I think about the last young man I brought home. It happened my senior year of college. Dad didn’t like him, and after he cheated on me with one of my sorority sisters, I didn’t like him either.

  “What are you thinking?” he says when I don’t answer.

  “That you’re sweet for inviting us,” I answer truthfully.

  Thanksgiving with Declan and the entire O’Brien clan. I don’t dare ask what it means, not when I’m certain he may not be ready, and mostly because I know that I am.

  I need him. I only wish he needed me, too.

  “If Dad’s up to it, we’ll come. I wish I could give you a definite answer, but we’re taking things day by day.” I try to smile because despite all the doubts and uncertainties racing through my head, I am happy he asked. “Thank you for the invitation, and for thinking of us.”

  He doesn’t seem happy. If anything, worry shrouds his face like a blanket. “What if your dad’s not up to it? What will you do that day?”

  I don’t want to think about my father getting worse, but it’s unavoidable. “We can meet up afterward if you’re available. But if you can’t, don’t worry. I don’t want to take you away from your family.” It’s hard to keep my voice steady when I mention his family. Declan is lucky to have an army of loved ones who adore him. If Dad goes, I’ll be alone.

  I blink back the tears that want to fall, but I don’t turn away soon enough. “Hey,” he says, cupping my face to wipe my eyes. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

  The way Declan regards me, his face so full of compassion and kindness, is more than I can take, triggering the misery I’ve been beating back all day.

  I lean in and kiss him, wanting to feel something else besides sadness. But when I deepen my kiss and crawl on his lap he pulls back, holding me carefully. “You’re not okay, are you?” he asks.

  No, but I want to be.

  I reinforce that dam I’ve built so it doesn’t break and unleash everything I fear. “Today was tough day,” I admit. My hands slide over his hard chest, smoothing over his shoulders. “That’s not how I want it to end. I want to feel good. Will you help me?”

  His stare warms. He knows what I need, and he doesn’t deny me.

  He lifts me from his lap, slowly dragging my figure down his hard form as he straightens and pulls off my dress, his eyes never leaving mine.

  His hands, so large and strong, carefully reach for my hearing aids, removing one at a time in that same leisurely manner he peeled off my dress. They’re devices, electronics, really. But the way he slips them from my body is as intimate as the way he unclasps my bra and frees me of my panties.

  I reach for his belt buckle. He clasps my wrist, lifting my hands to kiss each one. “Let’s make this all about you,” he says. “I can’t give you much, but let me give you this.”

  I’m not certain I know what he means, but what I think he means causes a tear to drip down my cheek. “Don’t,” he says, his hands gliding along my jaw. “Just let me make you feel good.”

  His hands were gentle against my face, but his touch becomes more daring as they feel their way down my curves. The moment his fingers graze over my backside, this man who can be so gentle turns primordial.

  Exactly what I need him to be.

  His lips crash against mine, his mouth ravaging me as his hands travel to my breasts to explore, tease, tug. I whimper when he rolls both nipples before his tongue drags down my throat. I can’t hear him, not this far away from my ears. But I can feel his breath against my skin, whispering those dirty words he knows drive me wild.

  My spine bows backward when his teeth fasten onto the tip of my breast. He holds tight to my waist with his arm while his other hand slips between my legs. I watch him work me, no longer shy like I used to be.

  I’m still wearing the garter stockings and my heels, but that’s how he wants me. He spreads my legs and falls to his knees. My breath catches as he lifts my right foot and places it on the coffee table. I grunt when he buries his face between my legs, clasping his shoulders to keep from falling.

  “Declan,” I gasp, his mouth pulling in my delicate skin, suckling hard and encouraging me to rock. “Declan.”

  The force of my orgasm has me toppling over. He catches me, lowering me to the couch as he shoves down his pants. In one smooth motion he enters me, his face fixed on mine as he pumps his hips and he kneads my breasts. I kick out when he pushes deeper, my legs flailing and my nails digging into the fabric of the couch as my passion escalates out of control.

  “Touch yourself for me,” he says, his gaze traveling briefly to watch. “Yeah. Just like that,” he says, his eyelids heavy with lust.

  This kind of sex, so freeing and ardent, is more than I’ve experienced with another man. It awakens me, making me feel desired, as if only the two of us can make each other feel this good.

  We both finish, his hips slowing as he curls forward. He swears as he watches me, tightening his jaw in agonizing bliss. I know he’s not done, but neither am I.

  It doesn’t take long for him to catch his breath and harden again. His appetite for me insatiable, and our emotions so riled there’s no room to think, only feel.

  He hauls me into his arms and carries me down the hall, stopping outside my bedroom. “I’m glad you’re flexible,” he says. “Because I really want to make you come this way.”

  He lifts my right leg and throws it over his shoulder a
s he pushes inside me. My head slides against the wall as Declan thrusts hard, my body shaking with how fast his body beats against mine and how much I want him.

  This is so what I need.

  No. He’s what I need.

  This moment takes longer and the orgasms come harder. Almost the moment he finishes his cautious demeanor returns. My hand slips to chest where his heart beats out of control and his chest rises and falls in quick succession. I can feel how much he wants me and how much he cares, and I can feel all the strength lying deep within. But everything I feel doesn’t seem like enough.

  I never planned on loving Declan. But I do.

  Even though I know he’s not ready to love me in return.

  CHAPTER 17

  Melissa

  Declan warned me he had a huge and loud family, but clearly I had no idea what huge and loud meant. He, Dad, and I arrive at Curran and Tess’s home just as the sun sets. Even from the bottom of the porch steps and with the door closed, I can hear the T.V. blasting and what sounds like an angry mob screaming at each other.

  I trail Declan as he guides Dad up the steps, the voices growing more boisterous and heated. I clasp Declan’s arm as he reaches for the doorknob.

  “Did we come at a bad time?” I ask.

  He smirks, reaching for me. “No, they always sound like that.”

  He throws open the door. The cacophony of sound has me toppling back. If not for Declan’s firm grip, I’m not sure I would have kept my feet. He motions Dad forward and into the foyer, keeping his other arm around my waist.

  Everyone is yelling. Everyone. My senses are on overload. Yet it’s when the mob of people taking up every inch of space in the large family room abruptly quiets that I almost fall over.

  All eyes are on us. Dad, ever calm and composed, glances back at me like we’re about to be eaten.

  Declan barely blinks. “This is Melissa and her father, Miles,” he announces. “Show some class for once in your lives and be nice to them.”