“Which means he’ll cut my freaking balls off if I let you do this. Really Becky, just stop being so damned difficult and give the guy a chance. We both know you wouldn’t have married me anyway so you can’t use that as an excuse.”
“That’s not true!”
“We both know it is or you would never have called him to tell him Beck. You want him to father his chid and that’s totally understandable and right. You’re just scared of letting him back in there.”
What a freaking understatement.
“No, I just thought he had a right to know. Are you going to marry me or what asshole?”
I’m half kidding since I know I can’t in all good conscience go through with it. Not only because it would hurt that nut sac Devon but because about thirty seconds after agreeing to Dill’s hairbrained scheme I’d started thinking about how he’s shortchanging himself.
He deserves to find someone, or someone’s as the case may be who he will love and who will love him in return, wholly and completely, not as a friend.
So yeah, he’s right, we can’t do this but I’m taking an inordinate amount of pleasure out of knowing Devon Baxter is squirming and has no control over this situation.
As for marrying the man, that is a total hell no! I can see getting to know his family and sharing my baby with them, heck I love the shit out of just the thought of seeing the guy with his kid-oooh tingles-but as loath as I am to short change Dill I am even more loath to do it to myself.
And that’s exactly what will happen if I just give in to the man.I’m not one of those naïve girls-well not completely-and I know that love isn’t always on the cards. Some people get married in lust, some just want security and some have to get married because of little hiccups like the one I’m experiencing.
I’d much rather have my wedding be for the sake of something as crazy as being head over heels in lust with someone than to have to wake up every morning knowing the only reason I got a rock on my finger is because of the nugget taking up space in my uterus.
Call me nuts, but I want to be wanted for me and me alone.
“That would be a no. The only reason I taunted the guy was to show you how hot he is for you, lucky bitch. Now it’s time for you to put on your big girl bloomers and decide what to do from here. You either make a go of things with him-I choose that option by the way, that man is fine with a capital F-or you go home and start-”
“He’s probably called dad by now.” I pout, swirling my lemonade around in my glass. “If I step foot out of your place they’ll be on me like white on rice. And dad still doesn’t know about my job or that I’m quitting my studies.”
Yeah, that is so going to be a fun conversation coupled with the fact that his unwed daughter got herself knocked up. Not.
“Becky, what is it you want? What is it you feel?” he asks when the silence stretches with nothing but my sighs to fill the air space.
“I want to be happy, for once in my freaking life, that’s all.. I spent college in my dorm room and the lecture halls. I spent three years working at something I hate and studying for something I hate even more and now…can we just play the engagement out till I have everything squared away?” I beg, not caring that I sound desperate and pitiful.
Dill sighs and runs a hand through his blonde locks, his expression so serious all of a sudden that I pause and raise my brows in question.
“The thing is that I really like you Becky, a lot. While we aren’t ripping each other’s clothes off with lust I am also not averse to doing you in any position my kinky mind can conjure. Marrying you won’t be a hardship and I certainly wouldn’t mind taking advantage of your vulnerability right now to do it. But you have to decide what you want first. So let’s leave this thing standing but I want you to at least go talk to Devon before we make definite plans.”
“Huh?”
He laughs and I feel my cheeks redden even as a giggle tries to bubble forth.
“Hell yeah Slade, you’re like bueno hot baby and very do-able. Plus, if my parents get wind of this…explaining shit might make things harder for me than they already are. So go, talk to your guy and if you can’t bring yourself to walk that path I’ll be here. Your very own sacrificial lamb, waiting to sex you up. Hey, is it true pregnant chicks get super frisky?”
“Oh shut up!” I laugh, throwing a potato chip at his head.
We laugh and I relax back into the lounger beneath me, but the pose is a mockery of what I truly feel inside. Inside I am tense and scared and a little empty at what I’ve done.
I snuck away like a thief, a coward and now I have to find him and…and I’m not sure that if I see him again that everything will okay, because the truth is that I have more than the hots for my baby daddy and I am terrified that if he tries hard enough, I’ll take whatever crumbs he’s willing to throw my way.
I don’t want crumbs, I want the whole loaf and a side order of cupcakes.
Greedy.
Chapter Sixteen
Dev
I want to howl in frustration, break something, tear something, someone apart with my hands. I want to drop to my knees and rip my hair out. I want…I want imp.
That’s all. But I can’t have her, not yet and the thought, the need for her is so intense I can hardly breathe for it.
“Cheer up old man, she’ll come ‘round.”
“Yeah, but if she don’t you can always do what dad did to mum and carry her off till she admits she wants you.” Garret says seriously and I smile for the first time since she ran and left me with three very obnoxious gits.
I smile because the story of how dad got mum is no lie. He’d seen her, wanted her and determined to have her. When she’d run, as most women are won’t to do when they’re the target of a very serious, commitment minded bloke, dad had snatched her and holed up with her in a hotel room till she’d admitted to loving him back.
I don’t tend to think about what they did in that room since they’re my parents but the possibilities, yeah, I really like having an option when it comes to my imp.
“Or I could just go and blab to her mum and have this sorted by nightfall.”
That earns me three stinking looks and a bread roll to the head from Ryan.
“Yeah, nothing makes a bird hot like having you tattle on her to her mum” Davy says, rolling his eyes. “Nah mate, just use what little charm ya have on her. Hell, that will never work. Tell us what you did and we’ll come up with a full-”
“I’m not helping him with shite if he’s only doing this to get his hands on the babe. She’s a good lass that one.”
I nod and toss the roll back at Ry.
“I want her, a lot. I want to love her too, but…I’m not there. Yet.”
I have never been dishonest with them, never, so I figure telling them the truth now will either have them against me or working that much harder to help me. I’m hoping they go with the latter since four Baxter men should just about do the trick in charming my imp’s socks off.
“Right then. Davy lad, you go ring the lass up and get her over here while Garret and I do this tosser a favour by teaching him how to talk to a girl. Bleeding older generation has no clue.”
I spend the next hour listening to and taking insult after insult as the bastards rib the hell out of me and teach me exactly the opposite of what I would ever consider doing with a mature woman.
“No. Imp is a woman not some teenage girl looking for a hook up with the Rugby team, she’s a woman and, and-”
“And women are simple, wonderful creatures Dev. All it takes to make one happy is honesty, fidelity and love. That’s it.” Ryan murmurs softly, his eyes locked on some unseen point. “Dad told me that the year I cried because Annie Roland dumped me. I’d texted another girl and she found out and dumped me. When I whined about it he said ‘women are gifts lad. You cherish what you have and show them honesty, respect and love and they’ll give you everything in return’.”
The silence that follows is profound, filled with emo
tions and the memory of the man who’d taught us all to be men. Good men.
“He was a good father, he raised good men.”
“He raised one good man and laid the ground work mate. You raised three good men and don’t ever forget it. Now listen, you have one shot here and while we love you I agree with Gar; don’t go after Becky just because of what you want, you have to promise that you’re taking her because you’ll give her what a real man can.”
That’s the real question then isn’t it, will I love imp? I can honestly say I will give it everything within me to trust enough to give her love but I can’t promise it, not even to myself.
But if there’s one thing I know it’s that my brethren will not allow me to hurt a woman they consider theirs. There is where the loyalty ends. Baxter men defend the weaker sex. Always. So I have to be somewhat creative in the way I answer lest they go nuclear and threaten me with bodily harm.
Seems that one irate snarl from imp has stolen their hearts and they’re as caught in her spell as I am. Bleeding ninnies.
But that gets me thinking. What do I want? How-no, I know things, like the fact that I obsess about the way she smells and spent two months searching for that scent only to realize that it’s not from a bottle but something innately her.
I think about her constantly, the smell and feel of her silky hair as it had cascaded over my chest and then down my body as she licked from my mouth all the way to my hips and beyond. The smooth satiny glide of her skin against mine. Her breasts, those pillowy, glorious cushions crowned by succulent pink nipples. Her lips when I lose control of myself and devour her mouth. That dark, wet place between her thighs that only I have known.
And this is it, the moment where I realize one startling truth. I belong to Rebecca Slade. I am and will forevermore be hers, completely. Love, that will likely, hopefully please God, follow. But it’s trivial at his point because even if she never sees it I am totally hers.
Shit.
“Imp is mine. I need her.”
And that’s all it takes for my three little guardians to accept my troth and go full throttle to win our girl.
***
Becky
“Oh come on. Just come over and hear us out. You’ve got our little DNA match floating in your lady bag hun.”
I laugh because seriously only a man would call my uterus a lady bag and then only a man with that weird London accent can make it sound that dirty.
His words aren’t as refined or smarmy as Devon’s, more a mix of snob and back alley guttersnipe and I freaking love it.
I do not however love the way he’s currently guilt tripping me into going over and doing an official meet and greet. According to Davy and the other brothers ‘just because you don’t want to see the old wanker doesn’t mean we all need to suffer’.
“Davy, I really don’t think-”
“Good because thinking’s obvi not your strong suit right now hun. Get your lovely, have I told you how lovely your arse is hun? No, well it bloody well is. All round and-”
“David! Focus.” I snarl through a laugh, choking when ginger ale shoots through my nose and dribbles onto Dillon’s pristine white carpet.
A beleaguered sigh reaches my ears and I roll my eyes to the ceiling, resting my head back on the sofa in defeat.
The truth is I really want to go over there and see Devon, I mean so badly that when Davy had first invited me over I’d been unlocking the front door and grabbing my keys before I realized what I was doing.
Now I’m just being silly, trying to resist temptation and convince myself that I don’t want to see him.
“Alright hun, no more arse comments. Swear. Come over. Please. If you don’t want to talk to the blighter just ignore him, half the time we do anyway. We ordered Italian and got that new 007 flick so it’s not as if you have to even look at him if you don’t feel like it.” He pleads.
“Fine, but you’d better have ginger ale and something chocolate or I’m out.”
Thirty or so minutes later I find myself standing on the porch of a truly magnificent house. I’m no architect or anything so I can’t say what style the place is or any of that bookie shit but it’s huge, has one of those porches with a swing and sports black shutters to go with the white exterior.
And now I know I am crazy nervous,because since when do I give a shit about the small details. Heck, my parents have a house larger than this. Only difference is this one is exactly what I’d wanted since I was thirteen and was still telling my Barbies about my dream house and wedding.
Don’t judge me for playing with the Barbies at thirteen; I was plump and friendless-besides Lila-so I took love where I could get it.
Heck, Ken doll taught me to kiss.
Just when I work up enough energy to bolt to my car in one leap the door opens and I am well and truly caught.
“You’re here.”
“Oh green beans.”
That grin has the power to undo me and build me back up in one go and I find myself holding my breath and looking at him, drinking him in with my eyes. I want so much in that moment that I can’t explain it all but I know one thing; the man is pure carnal heat and I want nothing more than to fall on him and break Ken’s plastic heart.
“Imp I-”
“Move loser, she’s here to visit the wolf pack.” I hear before a ball of energy shoves my wet dream aside and pulls me into the house.
I look around and gasp, feeling my stomach drop in a way I have only experienced once before; the night I propositioned Devon and he turned me down.
Everything is exactly as I wanted it. In my girlish dreams I’d told Ken to buy me a house that was pretty but homey with a sweeping staircase and muted yellow walls so that they look gold in the sunlight.
I’d also told the poor man that I want a big picture of a seahorse hanging over the stairs and baby pink chairs in the hall. It’s all here, everything, down to the ugly ass white and purple checked rug beneath the table.
It’s hideous, really hideous; something that only my girlish imagination would have conjured and I love it so much I actually have to bite my lips to stop a laughing cry.
“Christ, we told you it looked horrid. Don’t pay any mind to this shit hun, we’ll have it out soon. Apparently this one.” He snarls, twitching a thumb at his brother. “Can’t decorate to save his bloody life.”
Chapter Seventeen
We all laughed at that but deep down inside I feel unsure, like I’m walking on shaky ground as the three ‘lads’ show me around and give me the grand tour.
Devon follows behind, hands in his pockets and stares at me the entire time, his eyes a hot brand he doesn’t bother to hide. When we get upstairs and Davy points me in one direction while they hop back downstairs to check on dinner I know that something is off.
But who cares?
Seriously, I love this place. It’s a hodgepodge of colours and styles, sort of like the sets of Nanny McPhee. Everywhere I walk, everywhere I look is something different.
I explore to my heart’s content, giggling when I get to a room that’s decorated in lilac and white striped wall paper, honey coloured hardwood floors and robin’s egg blue accessories. Every thing’s bright and out of tune and just-
“This is the master bed and bath.”
I turn quickly and gape when Devon saunters into the room and stops about three feet away, his expression inscrutable as he looks between me and the wonderful disaster that is the colour scheme.
“Nice.”
It’s all I can say when he prowls by me and flicks at the bedspread, his grey eyes peeking lazily at me through his lashes.
“Haven’t slept in here as yet.”
This is so awkward, so, so awkward as he keeps his eyes on mine and runs a hand over the mattress, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. He looks up at me from beneath his lashes and releases his lip with a pop, his eyes telling me everything he isn’t saying.
My nipples bead and poke at the soft cotton of my shirt and
my breaths come in shallow pants when he drags a finger over the fabric and closes his eyes, groaning long and low.
“I thought of nothing but getting you naked and sliding you between these sheets. Do you remember that morning imp? You woke me with your mouth on mine and your hand squeezing my dick.”
Yes, yes I do. I remember waking to the sensation of his skin stuck to mine where we were joined, chest to hip, his sweat blending with mine. I remember the smell of sex and the even better smell of his skin where my nose borrowed into his neck.
I’d woken sore and sated and so curious I’d been unable to stop my hands from roaming his body in my quest to learn the feel of him. He’d slept as I ran my fingers from the nubs of his flat nipples, down over his hard abdomen to that place I’d felt deep inside me the night before.
I’ve read books and Googled a lot of things but nothing could have prepared me for the sight and feel of his erection were it lay hard and imposing, the crown just kissing his navel.
I’d been curious and terrified as I ran gentle fingers over the smooth skin, my touch light as I explored him from base to tip and back again, enthralled by the heat and satiny texture.
My innocence, or maybe just plain ignorance hadn’t registered that my explorations had become somewhat more than innocent curiosity till I’d found my mouth on his and become aware of my hand-
“Stop.” I say quietly, taking deep breaths to still my racing heart and breath. “I-I’m not here for you.”
A lie but something I have to say to restore my equilibrium.
Devon is an effortless flirt, something I have only now come to realize, months after doing one of the stupidest things ever. I fell for his innocent kindness which I now recognize as having been his spider drawing my fly into his web.
There had never been an option for me, not once that whole week when he’d changed his tune and drawn me in. I hadn’t stood a chance against his methods and had foolishly believed that our night together was my choice, an illusion he’d given me to make him feel better about taking without giving, while I felt powerful in my own sexuality.
JARED (Lane Brothers Book 4) Page 78