So much for playing hero. The pieces were so messed up he didn’t know where to start. He sat down and concentrated on them, hoping a solution would present itself, like magic.
Fuck it.
When he was about to give up, he heard the sliding glass door pull open again, and this time out walked Frankie’s dad, with his tool belt on and a red canvas hand tool caddy in his left hand.
“Shannon said I should come and do a rescue on this mission,” Joe Benson said with a beaming smile T.J. found comforting, though he didn’t want to admit defeat.
“Yup. I do believe we have a problem, Houston.”
“Well I’m good at fixin’ problems. Let’s see what you got there,” Benson said as he squatted down to peer at the roof and corners.
T.J. turned his back to the house and began showing Joe what he’d figured out, but he felt Shannon’s eyes on him.
He kind of liked it.
Chapter Eight
‡
SHANNON WATCHED HER husband’s hard-bodied friend while he worked outside, struggling to wrestle pieces of pink and light green plywood, painted to look like the sides of a gingerbread house. He first read the instructions, and then quietly aligned the pieces, searching for fasteners, which, all too often, seemed to be missing. He looked for holes that weren’t drilled.
By now Frankie would have given up, but in the hour that Shannon watched T.J. curse and nearly throw the pieces over the fence, she’d also seen him quell his anger, tell himself he could do it, and then sigh back into it. Until another problem arose.
Unable to bear the sight of his frustration any longer, she called her father-in-law. Joe was a regular guy and was never shy about helping out, especially if it required any carpentry or woodworking. And he was the most patient man she had ever met. Their personalities were total opposites, but standing side by side, though Frankie was nearly a foot taller, she could see they were father and son, no question.
“Be glad to help,” he said, and then appeared at her front door within twenty minutes. Just in time, too, because Shannon could smell defeat brewing in the yard.
“He’s getting awfully frustrated, Dad. He thinks there are screws missing, and maybe some wooden pegs.” She scrunched up her nose.
“Always are, sweetheart. I got plenty,” he said as he jiggled his tool kit. “Or they don’t put the holes so they align, or give you the wrong sizes. I’m sure we can work it out.”
Within two hours the little playhouse was constructed, complete with new trim around the eaves for extra sturdiness, which Joe had recommended. The two men worked well together, and on several occasions T.J. burst out laughing at whatever Joe had said. She heard Frankie’s name several times.
It occurred to her that it did Joe good to have another man Frankie’s age to share the work on that playhouse, and if Frankie were here, Joe would have been doing this alone. But with T.J. he’d found a kindred spirit.
Or maybe it was the grief that brought them together. Whatever it was, it was working.
Shannon admired their handiwork. The two men were practically slapping each other on the back. Extra holes had to be made, and one piece was hand-cut to fit in where a piece had broken. “You guys want sandwiches?”
“I’m actually starved,” T.J. said.
“I am too,” said Joe.
“You want to come in or eat outside?” Shannon asked.
The men looked at each other and shrugged. “Whatever’s easiest,” T.J. answered. “Makes no difference to us.”
She threw a wet towel at T.J., which caught him right across the kisser, eliciting a delicious pearly-white grin. She worked to restore her icy demeanor, but broke out in a brief laugh as she commanded, “Clean off the table and I’ll bring the food.”
Seated around the round glass-top table while they ate, the men continued to discuss their work. “You know, we work well together. No arguing or fighting. Kinda like working with the Team guys, like Frankie.” T.J. caught himself, sighed and fell back into his chair. “I’m sorry, Joe. Couldn’t seem to help myself.”
Shannon had thought the same thing. She’d seen Frankie doing things with his buds on Team 3, but even that held a healthy dose of swearing, jousting and horsing around. The mission was always accomplished, no matter how much irreverence there was. She also knew that Frankie could be sensitive and very stubborn. T.J., for all his bad-boy qualities, had remained more focused on the task once Joe overcame the two key obstacles.
Stop comparing. Not fair.
Why was she doing it, anyway? The baby kicked as she brought the dishes into the kitchen. Joe was right behind her, carrying the rest of them. “You know, it’s good to see you laughing again, Shannon,” he said as he set things on the counter. He slung an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her to him.
“Thanks, Dad.” She hugged him back. Then she placed one of his palms on her belly so he could feel the baby. “She wants to come out and play with you, Grandpa.”
Joe was overcome. “Ahhh,” he growled and wiped a tear from his eye. “She feels strong, Shannon. She does this a lot?”
“I have no comparison, but yes, I think she’s very active now.”
“That’s the way Frankie was. His mama wasn’t getting any sleep in the end.” He pinched her nose. “Make sure you rest up, kid. You’re going to need it.”
T.J. had come from the restroom and was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, bracing himself with one muscled arm pressed against the top of the archway, hips slung at an angle. Though he was a good ten feet away from them, Shannon could see a tinge of envy there, and she picked up that perhaps he was holding himself back.
“You want to feel the baby?” she asked him.
He shook his head with a small shrug.
“Oh, come on, T.J. Get yourself over here.” Joe stepped aside and Shannon walked slowly to meet T.J. halfway. Carefully he extended his palm, and she placed it against the lower right side of her belly. The warmth of his hand caused the baby to jump again, and they were rewarded with a kick and what felt like hiccups.
He stared at his hand, and she could see him soften and transform. When he looked up at her, she saw his need and his pain, which mirrored her own.
“Well, I’d best be going,” Joe barked, collecting his things.
T.J. took a step back and jammed his hands into his front pockets. “Yeah, I’ve got things I need to do, too. I’d say we did well, Joe. And Shannon, thanks for lunch and all the ice water.” His smile was gentle.
Joe and Shannon hugged, and then T.J. gave her a gentle embrace. Her belly rubbed against his lower abdomen, and she was surprised by a rush of intimacy. She felt T.J. hesitate to pull away. “You got anything else you need, give me a call, okay? I’m not as good as old Joe here with the hammer, but I can figure out most things.”
She found herself saying, “Thanks,” but felt the exchange was unfinished.
Joe was out the door with T.J. behind him when she decided to call, “T.J., there are a couple of things I think Frankie would want me to give you,” she said to his back. She saw him stiffen, saw him share a glance with her father-in-law, and then hesitate, holding the door open.
“Bye, you two,” Joe nodded and took off down the walkway with his toolkit.
T.J. closed the door behind him. Shannon suddenly felt awkward and shy about being alone with him. Something had shifted.
“We need to talk,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the living room and the brightly flowered overstuffed couch Frankie always said looked like it belonged in a hippie museum.
She sat an arm’s length away from T.J., curling one leg underneath her. It was getting harder and harder to find comfortable positions as her belly grew. Placing her arm along the back of the couch, she rested her head there at an angle and looked up at T.J., who was focused on her eyes and nothing else.
“I’ve been missing Frankie a lot today,” she said, looking away, unable to look at his face as she said it. Her shyness was couple
d with a tiny shiver of danger, making her heart beat harder and sending the baby into another acrobatic routine.
“Yeah, me too,” he whispered. He placed his hand over hers on the back of the padded couch, and rubbed her fingers. She saw no smile on his honest face. He knew what she was feeling. “Come here, Shannon,” he barely whispered, waiting for her to make the next move.
She found herself leaning up against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, as his long fingers massaged the top of her spine and lazily dove into her hair, sending warm ripples from her scalp over the rest of her skin surface. Her arm had wrapped around his body, her other hand rubbing over his shoulder muscles. She was aware of his heat, the smell of him, which was all male, the sound of his breath as his chest rose and fell, the way her cheek felt pressed against the granite of his pecs. She allowed herself to wallow in the muskiness under his chin.
Then he tipped her face up to his, and he kissed her. Need sparked like a match in a dark room. How she’d missed the tender kiss and touch of a man! She’d told herself she needed to learn to live without it for now. But it flared up anyway.
She accepted his lips on hers, accepted his tongue that waited for an invitation before plunging into her mouth. It filled the vacant and hollow places of her loneliness. His moan flamed her passion, opening to him, and drawing him in deep. She was starving for him in every sense of the word. A tiny alarm bell off in the distance was ringing, but she put it out of her mind.
He kept one large, callused palm under her chin, rubbing her lips with his enormous thumb. His eyes were sharp with what she easily recognized as arousal, though he was masking it. He was also showing her a hint of something deeper.
He waited for her to speak, to give him an answer, put a label on what was happening between them. She’d been doing a lot of telling herself this and that, thinking about how she should feel, how she should be holding things in check, especially with the responsibility of carrying Frankie’s child.
But she discovered her body ached for T.J. Her own needs were relegated to the place of someday, and became paramount. She missed intimacy with Frankie, the way it was so obvious he loved being with her. She missed the way he enjoyed her body, the way their lives had entangled and grown like two distinctly different vines covering the same trellis.
She laid her cheek against T.J.’s chest again and allowed the rhythm of his breathing to say what she wasn’t ready to hear in words. Her own body responded, and their tandem breathing became background music for their hands, which rubbed and explored. His soothing touch on her back, her neck, down her arms. He laced his fingers between hers, kissing their joining, and she found it heightened her arousal.
She leaned back and studied his face again, tracing her fingers over his lips, begging him to speak what he probably wouldn’t feel free to say. She knew it was loneliness that drew them together, the shared understanding that they both cherished the precious memory of Frankie as no other two people could.
His lips found hers again, found the spots under her ear and beneath her jaw as she lifted her face to the ceiling, closing her eyes and reveling in the way he explored her neck and the hollow between her shoulder and her upper chest. His thumb breached the crevice between her upper arm and her chest and then warmly squeezed her breast as he moaned into her ear.
Is this the talk she’d wanted to have? Was talking even appropriate? She’d have to slow things down and check her internal roadmap, even though she simply wanted to let go and plunge over the edge.
Other than his hand on her breast, he hadn’t touched her in any sexual manner, the kiss being all the signal she needed to know he was willing to go further. But he seemed relieved to find she wanted to separate. Maybe he wanted the talk too. Maybe he regretted advancing on her. In any event, it needed to be addressed.
Her hands remained in his as he leaned against the couch, examining his thumbs brushing over the tops of her knuckles and down her fingers in a slow massage.
“T.J., it feels so strange to be sitting here doing this. We never got along before, when Frankie—”
“Was alive,” he finished for her.
“Yes.” Her eyes followed as he brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them again, then spread out her palm and kissed it softly in a deeply personal and intimate kiss.
“I think what I’m saying is that I’m ready to try to move on.”
She watched his eyes dart quickly to her face. Perhaps he hadn’t gone there yet inside.
“I think I’ll always miss him. But life does go on. He’d want that, Shannon. He said that to me at the end. He wanted—” T.J. stood abruptly. “I can’t do this,” he said as he tunneled his fingers through his hair and released a sigh of exasperation. “I’m sorry, Shannon.”
Shannon got up carefully and stood close to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face to his strong upper torso. “It’s okay. I understand,” she whispered to his shirt. She lifted the cotton fabric, exposing enough of his abdomen that she could place her bare palm there, and pressed. “Help me, T.J. Help me to heal.”
He paused and took a deep breath. Could it be so hard for him to show her a little softness, a little kindness and affection for the memory of their shared past? Was it asking too much?
“The baby—” he began.
“Will be fine,” she finished for him.
Chapter Nine
‡
T.J. COULDN’T BELIEVE he was walking down the hall of Frankie’s little love nest, the floorboards creaking under their weight, the birds chirping outside in accompaniment to the sounds of an ordinary day. Except this wasn’t ordinary. Her body was plumped with the evidence of Frankie’s love for her and she was leading him to her bedroom—to do what? Make love to her? The pregnant wife of his best friend? A woman who was seven months along? Was this even possible? How would he feel if something happened to the baby?
He was going to need reassurance before he’d get naked with her, but no matter what, he knew it was going to happen. He really hoped he wouldn’t feel like a dog afterwards though.
They walked past Courtney’s pink bedroom, all set up with white furniture, waiting for the little one to imprint her personality upon it. What a miracle, he thought, how this happened. In two months another person would live here with Shannon. A little part of Frankie would grow out here in the real world.
The bedroom was rosier now, the afternoon glow deeper and more intense. She closed the door, and then walked around him to the bed. He watched her take off her top, revealing a heavy bra with her breasts huge and bulging behind the restraint of the white lace fabric. She undid the straps and let her breasts fall, deliciously exposed to him, moving with her breathing. The sight of a woman’s breasts, so full and ripe with life had never turned him on more. His cock was fully erect, holding his pants out front in that famous tent.
He was mesmerized by her as she slid her elastic-topped pants over her belly and down around her ankles and stepped out of them. Her smooth skin stretched over the growing child made him want to drop to his knees. She was the most beautiful creature on earth, pregnant and ripe with new life, standing before him unashamed of her nakedness. She was showing herself to him in a most intimate act, one no woman had done for him before.
“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked.
“For now, yes. Not for a whole lot longer, though. But yes, having sex during pregnancy is normal and natural.” She seemed to welcome the fact he had walked towards her.
She pulled off his T-shirt. He loved that she was undressing him, giving him time to get used to seeing her so big and so round everywhere. Her nipples were hard and enormous. Her belly button was protruding, almost like a little act of defiance. Her shiny hair smelled wonderful, and he felt her warm need as she rubbed her full breasts against his bare chest. She undid the button fly on his jeans and sat on the bed while she lowered his pants to the floor. His erection bounced to attention and hardened further when she wrapped her finger
s around his shaft, squeezing and working up and down gently, then squeezing his balls.
She licked his tip and then pressed him through her lips folding her tongue around him. He’d have been content if she could remain there forever, if he could keep watching while she sucked and rolled her tongue over him. Her hands gently squeezed his butt cheeks and he allowed himself to be drawn deep into her mouth and down into her throat.
He’d never seen anything as luscious as her lips working on him, had never experienced anything that drove his own need so fiercely. Her shimmering hair in the afternoon sun and the smooth texture of her shoulders and thighs illuminated in the golden glow of the day moved him to tears. He thought perhaps this was what she had in mind all along. Part of him was relieved.
But that wasn’t everything Shannon had in mind. She scooted back on the bed, knees slightly bent, her taut belly rising and falling as she inhaled and looked up to him with smoldering need.
“How do I—” he started.
She smiled and interrupted him. “T.J. Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex before.”
Now he felt stupid. “Not with a pregnant woman.”
“Thank God I’m the first for you. I wouldn’t want to be second or third.”
She was toying with him. His cock was getting stiffer and almost pained him. The little challenge to his ego spurred him on.
Holy cow. She wants me to fuck her.
“You sure this is okay?”
“T.J., if you want to stop, I’d understand. I mean,” she said as she rolled over on all fours and presented her sweet ass to him, “I wouldn’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Fuck it. He could see her wet pussy peeking like ripe fruit from between her legs. She allowed her shoulders to fall to the mattress as she rolled her head to the side and looked over her shoulder at him with those eyes full of smoldering need.
SEAL's Promise - Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 01 Page 5