Love and Chaos: A Growing Pains Novel

by K. F. Breene

  "I experimented plenty, but with one partner at a time, and way vanilla."

  "Why one partner at a time?" he asked in a light tone, moving onto his second beer.

  "You're judging, I can tell. If I said with two or three partners at a time, you'd paint a big red 'A' on me, is that it?"

  "No, actually." He placed his beer on a napkin with too much focus. The sigh wasn't so silent this time. "I've developed some hang-ups with women choosing other men over me. Knowing you’re more-or-less a one man woman eases my..." He fell silent as he searched for the right word.

  "Worry? Fear? Paranoia?" Cassie helped.

  He grinned. "Something like that."

  “Well, I am. I had the option for a three-some with a couple of guys. I wondered about it, and I don't like girls, but when it came time, it made me feel weirdly vulnerable. Like they were taking advantage of me or something. I didn't like it. I'd rather one guy take care of all my needs. It's also why I don't bother with one-night stands. I'm not saying I never have—I'm not a saint or anything, but the guy is usually all about himself. What's the point? I have a vibrator that gets me where I need to go, doesn't snore or steal my sheets, and doesn't talk. Perfect."

  Hunger flared in Jace's beautiful eyes. "So your experimentation is with toys?"

  Cassie gulped, seeing that raw desire kindling in Jace's stare. Her body started to hum. Not trusting her voice, she nodded.

  "Still?" he pushed, his tone low and quiet.

  "I don't have to experiment anymore. I know what works. What I like. Although…I do still…always wonder about a three-some."

  "And do you show your guys what you like? Do you use your toys during sex?"

  "I haven't in a while. A lot of men are threatened by them," she answered in a heady voice she barely recognized.

  "I'm not threatened. Not when I can watch you get off. Watch you pleasure yourself."

  The bar suddenly felt like it rested on a lava field. Cassie cleared her throat, then gulped, then fanned herself, her red face sporting a sheen of sweat. Her groin throbbed so hard she wondered if it would detach itself from her body and catapult itself toward Jace.

  "Don't be embarrassed, baby. I'm not," he said quietly.

  His gaze burned into hers. His hand, once resting near her knee, had rubbed upward, and now kneaded at the very top of her thigh. His pinky rubbed against her jean-covered sex, sending shooting bursts of pleasure throughout her stomach. She opened her legs, wanting more. Wanting him, any part of him, inside her.

  But they were in a bar! The man was not bashful, which was good, but Jesus!

  "Your fantasy. Let's talk about your fantasy," she tried desperately.

  A knowing smile drifted up his face. "The wolf and the lamb."

  "Don't be weird. And stop—" she paused, because he'd applied more pressure between her legs, massaging just right. Her body wound up quickly, so hot and turned on it didn't take much. The soft buzz of the few people having conversations fell away. She leaned over onto the bar, trying to hide Jace's hand working at her core. Rubbing faster. Harder.

  Her stomach tightened up, and then her groin did, waves of pleasure centering around that hand. Around the friction. She...was...almost...there!

  She shuddered against his arm, her eyes drifting closed as her body disintegrated.

  "My fantasy..." he said softly, planting a kiss to the side of her head.

  "Mhm." She shivered again in an aftershock and ran the back of her hand over her forehead.

  Jace watched her get a hold of herself with a satisfied smile.

  "Dirty boy," she mumbled, reaching for her beer and glancing around him at the other patrons. If anyone had noticed, which would’ve been difficult around Jace’s big body, no one had let on.

  "My fantasy is coming home and finding my wife on the couch, or bed, with our baby curled on her chest fast asleep. Since I thought I’d get married, that has been the thing I've wanted most. It's why I held on with Marlene for so long. I wanted a family. I want a family."

  It took a second for those words to curl through Cassie's brain. When it registered, she turned incredulous eyes on the ultra macho man sitting next to her, with his tattoos and muscles, and his air of extreme masculinity. She knew he had a soft core, but she never imagined a man would say that, let alone this man.

  She had no words.

  Unabashed by his revelation, he asked, "Do you want kids?"

  "Yes," she whispered. "I love kids."

  He nodded like he suspected that. "You're good with them."

  "I've always wanted to be a better parent than my parents. Which, granted, wouldn't be hard. But I've wanted a few kids of my own with a man who wanted to play an active role. I've always wanted a sister—Krista is fulfilling that role—and tons of cousins and nieces and nephews and the whole thing. Since it was basically just Sean and I—is Sean and I, I should say—I've wanted to work on a big family."

  "How many kids, ideally?" he asked quietly.

  "Three. If I started younger I might've gone for more, but..." A lump settled in her throat. "Have to find someone to marry me, though, so... I guess as many as I can in the time constraint."

  A quiet hum settled between them. Beer forgotten, all Cassie could do was stare into his eyes, floating and anchored at the same time. This conversation was heavy but natural, enlightening instead of damning. The grounded look in his eyes, the possessiveness, the soft, gooey-quality—

  She didn't want to put a name to it. Instead, she knocked on her head with her fist, hoping these feelings were real. Hoping that look in his eyes was real.

  "What are you doing?" he asked, still using a quiet voice, only now his tone was colored with bemusement.

  "Knocking on wood."

  He put his hand to the back of her neck lightly and pulled her closer, connecting his lips with hers. After a slow, deep kiss, he said, "What's next on the conversational agenda?"

  "When will you quit evading me and finally let me whoop your ass on the ping pong court!"

  Chapter 21

  That evening, after the three of them had made it back to the house in a cab—Peter had joined them for a few stress-relieving beers—and spent the afternoon lounging in the backyard chatting and sobering up, they found themselves in the basement, Cassie squaring off with Jace on opposite sides of the ping pong court, each with a paddle and a determined scowl.

  "What do I get if I win?" Jace asked in a flat tone.

  "My respect."

  He shook his head. "Not good enough."

  "BJ's whenever you want them for a month."

  "None of that talk, you harlot!" Peter admonished from the side of the room where he sat in a chair with one of her books. "His brother is in the room. Plus, anyone could hear."

  "Not sexual," Jace said.

  "Okay, fine. Three back massages."

  "Five."

  "Two."

  Jace smiled. "Fine. Three."

  "You managed to find the most stubborn woman on the planet," Peter said, flipping a page. "Cass, this book is ridiculous. There is a dragon in it, for God’s sakes. Did you bring any magazines? I already read mine."

  "Mom has some magazines on the shelf," Jace helped.

  Peter dropped the book to the side and crossed the room to the odds-and-ends shelf.

  "What about me?" Cassie asked.

  "Same deal?"

  Cassie's body called up an imaginary feeling of Jace's lips closing around her nipple. Or his tongue licking up her thigh. Or his fingers—

  "Not sexual—that stuff I'll do for free," Jace said in a low growl. Even from her distance, she could see his pupils dilate, the gold around the iris almost lost to the black. He'd known what she was thinking.

  "You have to go for a run with me tomorrow," Cassie said quickly, squeezing her thighs together to squelch the ache.

  "I already said I’d do that," Jace contested.

  "Fine. You have to…massage my feet. I love a good foot rub.”

  “Just once
?” Peter asked as he sat down with his magazine.

  “Good call. Five times. Feet are smaller than a back. Especially your back.”

  “Thanks a lot, Peter. Not that it’ll matter…” Jace zeroed in on Cassie. “But a back isn’t sweaty and stinky.”

  “Yours probably is.”

  Jace stared at her. She stared back. Finally he flicked his eyebrows skyward. “Okay, ladies first.”

  “Be careful of that mocking/condescending tone,” Peter warned, licking his thumb and turning a page slowly. “It means he’s about to be a dick about something.”

  “I got this.” Cassie held the ball and gave him a bouncing serve.

  Fast as lightning, his hand came up and slapped the ball back at her, the little white orb hitting the end of the table and speeding past her. All she’d done was blink at it. She hadn’t even reacted.

  That was fast.

  “Are you…playing?” That smile on Jace’s face was irritatingly mouth-watering.

  “I just wanted to make you feel like you were achieving something.” Cassie retrieved the ball from beneath a chair. She tossed it over to him.

  “Should I be playing easy?” Jace pushed, a smirk making his eyes twinkle. “You know, because you’re a girl…”

  The sound of a magazine page flicking was the only sound in the room.

  “You ready?” Jace held up the ball. “I’m going to serve now.”

  “Not wise, Jace.” Peter flicked another page. “Badgering her is not a wise strategy.”

  Peter was absolutely right, it sure wasn’t.

  Jace served the ball, the flash of white zooming low over the net. Cassie was ready this time, though. She smacked it back, hitting the back edge of the table. Jace fired it right back at her, a little too much arch in the volley, though. Cassie brought the paddle down with a snap. Not even Jace’s long arms could get there in time.

  “Showed up, I see.” Jace shook his head as he went to retrieve the ball.

  “I don’t like losing.”

  “Then you should stop challenging me…”

  “There’s that refreshing confidence I grew up with,” Peter said.

  Jace did a double-take at Peter. “There’s that personality I didn’t miss…”

  Cassie barked out laughter.

  “Oh, great, yes. Lovely,” Peter remarked, scanning a page.

  The game warred on, Cassie and Jace were pretty evenly matched, but Jace’s speed was just a hair faster than hers. They worked for their points, but slowly he pulled ahead, first by one point, then gaining another. And another. Finally, after they were both scowling in concentration, Jace slammed the ball home for the final point win.

  Cassie straightened up, letting the paddle drop to the table. “Well, shit.”

  “Jesus,” Peter said, watching the two of them. “You guys are really evenly matched. Jace usually just whoops people.”

  “Congrats.” Cassie winked at Jace, trying to be a good sport, but really wanting to throttle him.

  He came around the table, leaving his paddle behind him, as a small smile played across his lips. He glanced at the doorway before wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Good game, baby.”

  Cassie closed her eyes despite herself and leaned into his hard body. Warmth seeped into her skin. Wetness pooled between her legs. She rested her head against his shoulder and put her arms around his middle. With a sigh she said, “Forgiven.”

  His deep chuckle reverberated in his chest. “For beating you, you mean?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, you guys. We’re not alone in this house…” Peter climbed out of his chair and stood by the opened door.

  Jace backed off slowly, his arms lingering. The deep pools of his eyes beheld her, taking her to that special place where they drifted together, just the two of them. He leaned down to graze her lips before backing off completely. “Maybe we’ll try again tomorrow.”

  “Oh, we’ll play again. I’ve got your number.” Cassie’s sassiness came back en force. She braced her hands on her hips. “Next time it’ll be my double-ya.” She made a “W” with her fingers to accent her proclamation.

  Jace chuckled and headed toward Peter. “Where’d you find her?”

  “In the aisle for psycho white women for hire.” Peter followed Jace.

  “I can hear you two idiots, you know that, right?” Cassie said, thinking pretty seriously about throwing something.

  That night Cassie lay in bed next to Peter with her arms folded over her chest, staring at the ceiling. Quiet snores sounded beside her. While the sound was not enough to keep her up, the ache in her body had her wide awake.

  Images of Jace as he played earlier kept drifting through her memory, his solid body and ease of movement making her mouth water. She remembered his flashing eyes as he readied to smash the ball home and his congratulatory grin as she bested him. He might wield his confidence like a weapon, but he gave credit where credit was due, not caring one bit if it was a girl beating him, or a professional—he wanted to win, but he’d give respect if it was earned.

  A lump formed in her throat. She loved men like that. She loved when a man wasn’t so insecure as to get threatened just because she had a vagina. Those men were small-minded and simple. Jace was not one of them.

  Her gaze drifted toward the door. The man she yearned for slept twenty feet away.

  She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes against the pounding between her legs. God she wanted him so bad. It was almost a complex.

  Peter had mentioned before he fell asleep that he’d cornered Jace after ping pong, when Cassie had relieved Jenn of the baby for an hour or so, about staying with him and Marcus. Peter had said he’d already talked to Marcus, using his alone time in town earlier for the conversation, and Marcus was thrilled to have one of Peter’s family around. The condo was a three-bedroom, with an office neither of them used. Jace could have his own room with the run of the office, if he wanted, for as long as he wanted.

  Cassie had stopped breathing, waiting for the verdict. Unfortunately, it never came. Peter said Jace had dug his hands in his pockets, hung his head, and thanked Peter for the offer.

  “He likes to make his own way,” Peter had told Cassie. “He likes to firmly be in control of that kind of stuff.”

  “Do you think he wants to?” Cassie had replied, her voice wispy and soaked with fear. She wouldn’t lie to Peter like she was continually lying to herself—she wouldn’t be okay with losing Jace. She feared his decision to stay put. To let her go without trying to keep this thing going.

  Peter had hugged her tight and petted her head. “He really likes you, Cass. I can see it. I mean, let’s toss out some honesty—the whole house can see it. That’s part of the problem. When he makes up his mind on something, he’ll hold on tight. Just look at that last wench—she was Satan reincarnate, and he wouldn’t end it with her. He kept giving her chances to make amends.”

  “But that’s if he had made up his mind…”

  “He has. With you, I mean. He wouldn’t be all over you if he hadn’t. He’s not like that. He’s usually really slow to make a move. Always has been. For him to be this expressive, especially when it’s kind of taboo in the house right now…he’s into you. You just have to trust that he’ll work it out. Trust and have faith in him, Cassie. He’ll come through.”

  It had been a good talk. Peter had made her feel better, as usual. Uncertainty, though…many a woman went bat-shit crazy when hanging from the rafters of uncertainty…

  Cassie heaved a sigh and thought about turning over, cuddling into her pillow, and closing her peepers. That pull, though. The ache. The itch under her skin.

  She didn’t even want to have sex with him—

  She nearly scoffed at herself. Of course she wanted to have sex with him. But that wasn’t all. She wanted to be near him. Next to him. She needed to feel his arm pulling her close as she drifted off to sleep. Safety and warmth and man.

  I should go to sleep.
<
br />   She sat up slowly.

  I need to lie back down and go to sleep. There are already enough suspicious looks from the family.

  She swung her legs out from under the covers.

  Roger and Demetri keep tabs on Jace and me every time we’re in the same room. They notice when we so much as look at each other.

  She tiptoed toward the door.

  I am so stupid.

  The door swung open on silent hinges. She peered out, finding the empty, dark hallway she expected. Silence reigned.

  Not a creature was stirring.

  She closed her door like she might be doing something as innocent as going to the bathroom. Instead, she veered, her heart thumping out of control as her palm met door handle. She wrapped her fingers around cold metal, grasped…and turned.

  The door gave way, unfortunately (or fortunately?!) not locked.

  Her breath rang off the walls and alerted the whole house to what she was up to (in her head, anyway). With her heart out of control, she slowly pushed into the stillness of the dark room. Trace amounts of light filtered in through the window, the soft glow of the moon only enough to illuminate a sliver of bedside table. The bed waited in the darkness, probably housing a gorgeous, manly, muscly, delicious man she wanted to club and drag back to her lair.

  Or possibly the bed was totally empty and she could expect him to creep up behind her with a machete and a bag full of secrets.

  Her imagination wasn’t always such a wonderful thing.

  With a glance behind her, just in case, she silently swung the door closed. And stood for a moment, hoping her eyes would adjust to the darkness. Obviously, since she’d just come from a dark room, that was a whimsical hope, but still, a couple more seconds might…just…

  Nope. Still dark.

  She took a silent step, wind milling her arms to balance so as not to topple over. Usually balance wasn’t even an issue—a girl didn’t get to the upper echelons of soccer without being able to pause on one foot. But trying to be sneaky really messed with her concentration.

  She edged her foot forward another step, her whole body going catawampus when her foot touched a mound of something soft. Soft, but not squishy. Fabric. A shirt, probably.