A Stone in the Sea

by A. L. Jackson

  There were pictures…pictures of Sebastian and me playing on the beach, ones of him kissing me, the grainy image blurred out where his hand fondled under my suit, though clear enough that the act was unmistakable.

  They made it appear lewd. Trashy and dirty.

  A choked cry left me with the ones they had posted of Kallie. Her face was also obscured, paramedics hovering around her where they checked her on the beach after Sebastian had saved her life. There were more of us leaving the hospital, a fearful Kallie shrinking in my arms, Sebastian’s expression dangerous as he lashed out at the cameras.

  The room spun as this reality struck me. They were accusing me of neglecting my daughter, putting her at risk. As if my daughter’s safety came second to my need to have sex with a rock star.

  The horror on Sebastian’s face had become my own.

  Only it took root in every cell of my body.

  “I will get this taken down, Shea. I promise you. This is invasion of privacy and, more than that, nothing but lies.”

  But it was already seen. The insinuations already implied.

  And it was only a matter of time before everyone knew my name.

  NIGHT ENCROACHED, USHERED IN quickly by the storm that grew on the fringe of the horizon, taking possession of the sky. A streak of lightning twisted and tangled through the dense clouds. A jolt to the air, sending a crackle of energy snapping through the darkening heavens.

  Another lash of anger singed me as if the lightning had struck against my flesh. I gripped the steering wheel of the Suburban and focused out the windshield as I rolled into Savannah after leaving Anthony’s place.

  This morning, seeing Shea’s reaction had been almost more than I could tolerate, the fear and disgrace that had clouded every feature on that gorgeous face.

  I’d been here before. Many times. Not a whole lot could surprise me anymore— the way the stories were slanted, skewed to fit whatever bill they wanted to fill.

  But this.

  This was appalling. Fucking. Appalling. Those pictures nothing but sickening.

  I’d left Shea under the guise of needing to handle it, that I needed to go back to Anthony’s office at the house where I’d sit in on Skype calls with my attorney, publicist, and agent throughout the day, seeing to it that this garbage was thrown in the trash bin, exactly where it belonged.

  Which was precisely what I’d done.

  But it’d been more than that.

  I could feel her spirit screaming for a breath, for a chance to come up for air, a reprieve from the constant drama that had eaten up our lives for the past two days.

  I knew Shea needed time to process. To grasp what being with me was really going to mean.

  Because now she knew firsthand how cruel it could be.

  The burdens and the bullshit.

  The hurt.

  And this fucking hurt.

  I knew I had to give her the space to decide if someone like me could ever be worth it.

  Street lamps blinked past as I drove through town. I resisted another welling of rage. I was about five seconds from coming completely unhinged, turning around, and tracking down the fucker who’d crossed every boundary and line. What I wouldn’t give to tear him limb from limb just so he could experience a little of the agony he’d inflicted, the excruciating pain of having someone rip your life apart.

  And for what?

  Sport?

  Financial gain?

  Fuck that.

  Instead of giving in, I made a turn and inched down Shea’s quiet street. I parked at the curb and pushed out a strained breath as I looked over at her darkened house. Trees canted in the harsh gusts of wind, sucked to the side as they lurched and swayed. Something lonely and desperate seeped from the strong, white exterior walls, seeping out across the lawn, stretching out for me.

  I cut the engine and climbed from the cab. Nerves hit me as I climbed her steps and slipped the key she’d given me into the lock of the front door.

  Sucking in a breath, I pushed it open.

  Inside, a heavy darkness crawled along the walls, a quiet so thick I could taste it.

  But that energy.

  That energy was alive in it.

  Her storm.

  Pressing and pulling me forward.

  I didn’t have to call out to her to know she was in Kallie’s room.

  Silently, I mounted the stairs, wood groaning beneath my feet as I climbed.

  April’s door was closed, and I figured she would be in her room catching up on studying, the way she seemed to do whenever Shea was home in the evenings.

  My chest ached as my mind flipped through every scenario, and that time I’d afforded Shea now felt like a crushing force. Because fuck…if she wanted to send me away? Didn’t know if I could do it. Give her up. This girl had become my world.

  Resolve settled over me like the slow drizzle of rain, droplets hitting me everywhere until I was completely soaked. I was going to make sure I was worth it. Besides, I knew it in my gut that Shea couldn’t live without me any more than I could live without her.

  Could feel the same damn thing calling out for me from Kallie’s room.

  More.

  More.

  More.

  Slivers of muted light glowed from the crack in Kallie’s door, and I softly nudged it, and it creaked as it fell open to reveal the room.

  That energy stirred as the girl stole my breath.

  Shea’s head was tipped down where she sat in the old, white rocking chair that was tucked in the corner of Kallie’s room, my girl’s strong, loving arms ensuring comfort within. The chair faced out on the room, and Kallie was curled up on her lap while Shea rocked her, that precious tiny girl lost in the restful abyss of sleep. Shea brushed gentle fingers through Kallie’s hair as she peered down at her daughter’s face.

  Tranquility. Peace and adoration.

  Beauty.

  What I’d turned away from that day on the street when I’d finally understood how much Shea had to lose. How much she needed to protect. When I got why I could never just be a distraction.

  Now…now turning away was impossible.

  A surge of possessiveness crashed over me, and I struggled to swallow around the rock of emotion that got lodged at the base of my throat.

  Shea didn’t look up at me, just let her hushed words spill into the room as a soft smile kissed one side of her mouth. “From the time I brought her home from the hospital, I rocked her to sleep in this chair every single night until the day she turned two.” Her smile fluttered and flickered, my girl lost to wistfulness. “My grandma used to say a child should never be spoiled rotten, only spoiled until they were sweet. I figured if I rocked her to sleep any longer than that, I’d be risking crossing over into rotten territory because she was already as sweet as she could be.”

  My heart pulsed, erratic and wild.

  She choked over pensive laughter, and she finally glanced up at me, those warm caramel eyes exposing her vulnerability, that unforgettable face sodden with tears.

  Every muscle in my body coiled with reverence.

  Gripping me in the tendrils of her storm, the hurricane surrounding her grew fast and fierce.

  She turned her attention back to Kallie. “I would sit here and sing to her every night, making up songs about my dreams for her, my dreams for us. How I was going to give her the best life she could possibly wish for. I’d tell her it was just her and me and I was certain that was always going to be enough.” Her voice cracked. “And then there was you.”

  The echoed words from the first night she’d given herself to me raged against the walls of the tiny room.

  “Shea,” I murmured low, somehow her name coming off like a command, every part of me demanding this.

  Outside, branches beat at the eaves, and a howl of wind screamed through the cracks of the old house.

  Shea dragged her attention up to me. “Do you want to be with me, Sebastian? Really be with me?”

  On the phone the other n
ight, she’d asked me to promise her that it was only going to be her. I hadn’t hesitated. But I knew tonight she was asking for more. That she was asking me if this was going to be worth it.

  Slowly, I pushed over the threshold.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  Matching her.

  Matching me.

  Every essential part of her tugged at me. Sucked me in, pulled me deeper.

  Deeper.

  Deeper.

  Deeper.

  I stopped a fraction away. Slowly I reached out to touch Shea’s face. My thumb traced along the curve of her trembling bottom lip as I set my palm on her cheek. She leaned into it, and something inside me tripped.

  Overthrown.

  My gaze slid to Kallie, her expression lax and soft, glowing innocence, wild, wild curls.

  About as wild as what I was feeling inside.

  Watching Shea’s face for resistance, I leaned down and gently scooped Kallie into my arms.

  The child weighed next to nothing, but God, if she didn’t feel like everything.

  A sigh expended from her as she snuggled into my hold. Inhaling, I hugged her to me before I carefully nestled her in her bed. She released a jumble of tiny, unintelligible sounds, before she rolled onto her side with her fists pressed to her face. I brushed back her hair and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. One of those little hands came to my cheek as I did, chubby fingers scratching at the rough stubble of my jaw.

  “My Baz.” The mumble of words distinct. Powerful. Shooting straight through me.

  It was staggering—the overwhelming feeling that swept through me—like grief coated in the greatest joy.

  I choked back a cry.

  Kallie needed a daddy, didn’t she?

  Someone to protect her. Someone to shelter and defend. Someone to stand for her through every bend and roadblock this life took her through.

  Someone to take out any asshole who dared to stand against her.

  My mouth went to her forehead, affection pressing full, words like gravel as they ground from my throat. “My Little Bug.”

  I tugged the covers up to Kallie’s chin, dragging in a breath before I turned to Shea who was watching us with the hope I’d always thought she shouldn’t be hoping for.

  It flamed in the air.

  Provoking.

  Urging.

  God, I was so thankful that hope was still there.

  I stretched out my hand, heat clawing up my arm when she touched me. I helped her to stand.

  Tears kept up a constant stream down her face as we exited Kallie’s room, because I knew Shea wasn’t immune to this, either.

  We paused just long enough to pull Kallie’s door mostly closed, leaving it open just a crack.

  Staying a step ahead of Shea, I led her across the landing, my hand firm where it was wrapped around hers.

  Sure.

  Our breaths filled the air, shallow and labored, our footsteps slowed as we moved toward her bedroom, fire threatening to burn us up.

  My body raged with the desire to get lost in her. In the sweetest flesh and caramel and honey. To fuck and taste and adore.

  To completely let go.

  That was intensified by the anger that had hounded me throughout the day—the fear that my lifestyle might steal them away.

  Kallie.

  Kallie.

  Kallie.

  This. Girl.

  All of it just added another layer to the insanity Shea yielded over me like power.

  More.

  Fuck, I wanted more.

  My heart slipped into overdrive the second I pulled her into the quiet of her room and clicked the door shut behind us.

  Shea stood there in the middle of her room, peeking over at me, timid, yet still simmering sex and lust and everything I thought I could never have.

  Thunder rolled in the distance.

  That and the rapid fire of our panted breaths were the only sounds.

  But my thoughts were deafening. Careening out of control as my gaze traveled over her. She was wearing a long-sleeved button-down satiny sleep shirt, a pair of pale pink shorts to match, those legs and that body and her heart demanding me. Tears still streaked down her cheeks as she struggled to break through the confusion and questions that had always acted as a barrier between us.

  And I could feel all of those walls fracturing.

  Disintegrating.

  She whimpered in anticipation, just as much a prisoner to this as I. “What have you done to me?” she asked into the disorder.

  I moved to her, doing my best to keep my composure as my fingertips fluttered along the sharp angle of her jaw, dragging down the delicate slope of her neck.

  “Shea,” I whispered, drawing nearer. Her mouth parted on a breath, my own mimicking the action just so I could breathe her in.

  Intoxicating.

  I let my lips graze across the fullness of hers. “Shea,” I said again, madness taking me over when she shook, those quivers radiating from her nothing but a fucking match striking across my body. Chills rushed, winding up every cell that made me up, nerve endings coming alive.

  My arms were around her waist, tugging her flush, my mouth overtaking hers—the same way she’d overtaken me.

  And we spun.

  Spun and spun and spun.

  Our kisses frantic and touches demanding.

  Wouldn’t ever get enough.

  One arm banded around her waist, I yanked the covers down on her bed. I never let go of that body or that mouth as I crawled with her up into the center of her mattress.

  She trembled, and those lush, long legs opened to make room for me, her knees gripping at the outside of my thighs as I sank against her heat, friction and fire and blinding light.

  One of my hands went to the mattress to support my weight, the other to the back of her neck, forcing her chin up.

  I took possession of her warm, wet mouth.

  Devoured what was always going to be mine.

  I nipped at the plush of her lips. “Do I want to be with you?” I repeated her question on a barely constrained roar, on the fury that there were people out there looking down on this girl in the same way those pictures portrayed.

  Like a worthless mother.

  Like trash.

  When she was nothing less than a treasure.

  I kissed along the salty flesh of her cheeks that were soaked with tears, gathering her sorrow, before I kissed right back down to that soft, sexy mouth.

  She trembled more and arched into me. “Sebastian.”

  I edged back onto my knees, my fingers laying siege to the buttons of her pajama top, whispering hoarse as I ate through them. “Do I want to be with you?”

  Every inch revealed a little more, the flush on her chest, perfect tits that pebbled as soon as they met with the shock of unsettled air, the flat, delirium-inducing planes of her stomach.

  I spread open the sides of her top and shivers lifted across all her silky skin.

  Still hovering, I leaned over her, my hands pressing under the fabric so I could push it over the delicate caps of her shoulders and drag it down her back. She lifted just enough for me to twist it free.

  I grazed my knuckles over the taut peaks of both breasts, making her jump. Easing back, I pressed a tender kiss to the jut of her hip where the butterflies scattered out from just above the hem of the pajama bottoms. Butterfly. My fingers wound in the waistband, dragging both them and her underwear down her legs. I pushed back from the bed so I could peel them off.

  My beautiful storm.

  A needy sound of protest left her, tightening my chest, sending another wave of overpowering emotion pounding through me.

  God, she was a vision.

  Lying there—hair strewn out over her pillow, every naked inch of her my own personal perfection—she was seductive and sensual. Teeming with sex and lust, her storm throbbing full, all mixed and muddled with that glow of goodness shining out from around her like her own secret aura.

 
More.

  I undressed in front of her.

  The first time I’d done it, it was a warning.

  A threat.

  Praying this girl would see me, understand who I was, and run.

  And she did see me.

  She fucking saw me and loved me all the same.

  This time when I stripped, it was a promise.

  I stood there, muscles twitching beneath the irresistible weight of her stare. Bared to her. Completely exposed. My cock straining, my body burning up in the flames of her fire.

  Ruined for this girl.

  Caramel eyes latched onto me.

  That storm fell down around us.

  Full force.

  Beating.

  Beating.

  Beating.

  A frenzy of light and need and dark, dark, dark.

  Tears soaked her face, every line imprinted on my heart and mind.

  Words fumbled from her mouth in a desperate confession. “I don’t remember how to breathe without you.”

  And I got it.

  Fucking got it.

  Because I felt it, too.

  This girl had become a necessity.

  Fundamental to who I was and who I was always gonna be.

  Slowly, I crawled back over her, eyes drifting down to watch that body shake as I did.

  I bracketed my forearm above her head, the other hand gathering up both of hers between us. Pulling them to my lips, I kissed across her knuckles, the movement slowed as I dipped down and kissed the moisture gathered in the creases of her eyes.

  Inching back just far enough to catch her gaze, my mouth a breath from hers, I asked her again, “Do you see me, Shea?”

  This time…this time it was a plea.

  Shea pulled one of her hands free, fingertips gentle as they traced across my face, glancing across my lips and over my chin. She pressed them a little harder as she dragged them down my neck, like she was searing them into me, harder still as they moved down my chest.

  Like she was again searching for a crack, for a fracture in my worn, scarred heart, for a way to sink inside.

  That touch softened, yet somehow gained intensity as she moved it down to where Julian’s monkey had been immortalized at my side.

  “Yes,” she whispered toward my face, that single syllable hitting like an electric charge to the thick air.

  And I no longer wanted her to make me forget. I wanted to remember every moment. Cherish each one. Give praise for every second I got to spend with her.