But I wasn’t the same Naomi that I used to be, and the sooner everyone saw that, the better.
***
“Goodnight, Mom,” I whispered, hugging my mother tighter than I would have normally.
She’d just spent the last two hours talking to me about my brother, and what her hopes and dreams had been for him.
I’d sat there, listening to her words, wondering if I should feel bad about what happened with my brother.
Should being the operative word.
I didn’t feel bad. Not even a little bit. He’d done this to himself, and he only had himself to blame.
I’d stuck by his side, even after he’d screwed over my best friend in the whole wide world. Even after he’d almost gotten me fired from my job because he’d blamed me for something that he’d done.
But when he’d run me over, almost stealing my life and causing me serious bodily injury, I came to a decision.
One where I promised myself that I’d stop putting everyone else first and put me first instead.
It was this promise that kept me from calling Sean because I was putting me first. Even if it ruined us in the process.
“Love you, Mom. I’ll see you tomorrow when you get home from work,” I whispered into her hair.
My mother squeezed just a little bit tighter, then let me go.
With a pat to the cheek, she walked to her room and didn’t once look back.
I watched her go, standing there in the doorway to my very empty childhood bedroom, and waited until her door closed to follow suit.
Once my door was closed, I looked at the room that’d been my happy place when I was growing up.
Now it just looked like an empty room.
None of my personalization was there anymore. No wacky pink paint with purple zebra stripes. No knick-knacks or posters from teen magazines or any of my old soccer trophies.
There wasn’t anything. Not even any curtains.
My phone beeped again, and I looked at it, sitting on the blow-up mattress, and wondered if I should break down and call the man back.
He was relentless, I’d give him that.
I threw back the covers on the mattress, shucked my watch and rings, and placed them on the floor beside the bed.
My phone was the next to follow, getting plugged into the charger that I’d borrowed from my mother.
And when I was in nothing but a t-shirt and panties, I flipped off the light, then walked to the bathroom. Closing the door quietly, I washed my face, used the facilities, and lifted my shirt, staring at what was left of the last few months torment.
My belly looked good, really good. (As long as I ignored the stretch marks and flab.) The stoma was gone, and all that was left of it was a pink scar that was healing, and I’d been assured would fade in color over time.
I looked like any normal thirty-year-old woman would, or at least I thought I did.
My belly could be flatter, and my breasts could be larger.
My ass had cellulite, and my chin was well on its way to being double.
But I felt good. I was on the road to recovery, I was healthy, and for the most part, I was happy about where I was in life.
Sighing audibly, I yanked my shirt back down, washed my hands, and turned off the light to the bathroom before opening the door and heading to my bed.
The moment I felt my feet hit the mattress, I eased my body down onto my hands and knees, savoring the way I was feeling.
Moving into a modified downward dog position, I stayed like that, enjoying the stretch and wondering if the soreness I felt would ever go away.
It didn’t feel like it ever would.
Literally, it felt like I was always sore.
Not in an ‘oh my God I can’t move’ way, but in an ‘I just worked out and it kicked my ass’ kind of way.
Something loud banged outside, but I didn’t move.
The neighbor had a large dog that he sometimes left outside if it was cool enough, and he was a loud son of a bitch. His name was Goober, and he was a two-hundred-pound Mastiff that looked mean as hell, but was really a big ol’ baby.
Though, he did like to eat balls, toys, shoes, plants, and wooden fences.
After going outside when the neighbor had first started letting him outside at night and seeing him chewing on the chain link fence, I’d decided that I’d just let him be.
Once I got to sleep, I was a fairly sound sleeper, so it wouldn’t bother me too much if he did happen to be outside tonight.
Stretched out as much as I could get, I dropped down on my belly, and once more reached for my phone, letting my finger swipe over the lock screen as I looked at all the missed calls and text messages from Sean.
Not one of them was mean, though.
Most of them were along the lines of ‘call me please’ or ‘Naomi, please.’
The last one he’d sent, though, was short and sweet.
Sean (11:22 PM): You better be safe. Night, beautiful.
My heart warmed for the first time since I’d left him, I turned my phone to silent and let it drop to the floor. Then I reached over my shoulder and tugged the blanket over my hips and all the way up to my chin.
Once there, I closed my eyes and let my mind wander.
It was no surprise where it went.
That bearded man owned all of my thoughts, both waking and dreaming.
Chapter 13
I think we all want the same thing. Love. World peace. And to be fucked so hard that we can’t go to work the next day.
-Naomi’s secret thoughts
Naomi
I was in a dead sleep when I woke suddenly, feeling weird. Wind moving over my skin. A noise that sounded like a shoe moving over a hard surface.
I rolled onto my side, cracked my eyelids open slightly and stared at the open window in confusion.
Why was it open? I definitely didn’t open it. It was far too cold out tonight for that, not to mention my mother would kill me for letting out the heat.
Oh God, I could just hear her now...
Naomi, do you pay the electric bill here? Was that a no? I’m sorry, can you speak up, I can’t hear you. That sure sounded like a ‘no’ to me. I know you can’t possibly be saying yes, since I know for certain that I’ve never once seen any money leave your pocket to help me pay this electric bill.
But there it was, the window that had been closed when I went to sleep stared back at me obviously flung wide open.
I sat up in bed, fear slithering down my spine, as I heard the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle starting up.
Just as suddenly, I heard the engine accelerate as it pulled away, leaving me wondering what in the hell had just happened and who had left.
My mother lived in a cul-de-sac. She had a neighbor on each side of her house, but they were both elderly, and I was pretty damn sure neither would be on a motorcycle in the middle of the night.
Mr. Worsham was an elderly man in his late nineties who could barely walk, let alone ride a motorcycle.
Mrs. Cooper was a seventy-nine-year-old widower whose son drive her everywhere, but only during daylight hours because she was scared to go out at night.
It wasn't anyone who lived on this street. Not because anybody here disliked motorcycles, but because this was such a quiet neighborhood that if one neighbor had one, the noise from it would draw the other neighbors’ attention. If one of my mother’s elderly neighbors had suddenly taken up riding a motorcycle, she’d have told me about it right away. That would be big news on her street!
There were woods at our backs that ran for over seventy miles, and it was owned by a farming family who ran their cows over the land in a rotation every three months. So I knew that the sound hadn’t come from that direction.
Getting up, I walked to the window and looked out, shivering slightly at the cool night breeze that rolled through the window.
As I scanned the area, I wondered if the sound had
just been a figment of my imagination. However, within thirty seconds of having that thought, another set of motorcycle pipes filled the night air of my neighborhood, bringing my attention to the street right outside my house.
I frowned, looking at the single headlight drawing closer as if it were a puzzle that was too complex for my still sleepy brain to figure out.
Then the man riding the motorcycle got off, shut the bike down and stood to his full height.
I realized who it was within thirty seconds.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as the man approached the window, heart pounding. “And when are you leaving?”
Sean’s lips twitched as he walked up to where I was standing, placing his large hands on either side of the window pane.
His large, bulging biceps dominated my vision, and it was extremely hard to not stare.
Even in the barely lit night, the moon in early stages of waning, I could see the play of his muscles as he did nothing but stand there.
Those rough fingers gripped onto the brick as he stared at me through the darkness.
“I’m here because you’re here,” he answered simply. “And I’m not leaving until you do.”
I frowned.
“What’d you just do?” I asked, referring to him leaving and then coming back.
He let one of his hands up from the window and traced a large, blunt finger down the line of my jaw.
“I found out where you were, no thanks to you, and rode straight here.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the way that single touch made me feel.
My belly clenched, and his lips twitched.
He knew what he did to me.
I narrowed my eyes.
“I don’t want you here.”
He moved, pushing me forward with a large hand to my chest as he maneuvered his hulking frame through the window.
I stared at him as he towered over me at his full height, no longer separated from me by the window, and wondered what he was going to do now.
“If you don’t want me here, then I’ll leave.”
My heart started to pound at his words, and it took everything I had not to shout in denial.
I was lying to myself.
I didn’t want him to leave. Not even a little bit.
But my mouth wasn’t linked to my brain, and I spouted off when I was nervous.
“I don’t want you here,” I repeated.
His eyes locked on me, studying my face, and he grinned.
“That ‘come hither’ look you have going on is enough to make me call bullshit,” he informed me, his hand moving up to cup my jaw.
Such a gentle touch from such a large man had my head whirling. He didn’t look like he’d be capable of such tenderness.
“I don’t know what look you’re speaking of,” I lied. “And you should really be ashamed of yourself, leaving my window open. My mother would curse you if she saw.”
His eyes went to the window, which was still wide open, and he dropped his hand.
My heart started to twist as I thought he was leaving, but he did nothing more than pull the lower panes down and twist the lock above it before turning to look at me.
“I missed you. And I’m an asshole,” he announced simply.
My shoulders slumped. He had given me the opening that I needed to apologize in person.
“I’m an asshole, too,” I said. “I wanted you to be there, but I didn’t want to come off as that needy girl that you just met. I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me, either.”
He sighed, then surprised me by removing his shirt.
When he started on his belt buckle, my heart started to untwist as blood started to pump through it.
Although I couldn’t see him perfectly, my mind went back to the time when I could see him perfectly. His abs, his large bulging biceps. His strong jaw, and tapered waist.
Those large hands that did nothing but sweet things to my body.
And then there was his mouth.
That sweet, delicious mouth.
Chapter 14
Sean: Am I adopted?
Dad: Not yet. I haven’t found anyone who’s willing to take you.
-Text from Sean to Big Papa
Sean
I wrapped my arms around her back and pulled her in tight to my chest.
With her tiny body pressed against mine, I had the distinct impression that she was still reluctant for me to be there.
“I’m sorry.”
The words weren’t enough. I knew that.
I’d taken the hurt I’d felt when she’d left me in the dark for a week, and nursed it until it was unhealthy. I’d taken it out on her and repeatedly punished her for making the decision not to include me in her life.
I had no right to do that.
All I could say at this point was that I was sorry. That I wouldn’t be that dumbass guy anymore.
She dropped her head until it rested on my sternum, nestled between the hard wall of my pecs.
“I was a dumbass. I was hurt, and I overreacted. I should’ve just spoken with you, but instead of doing that, I punished us both when I didn’t need to.”
Her hand rose up, starting around my waist, and slowly moving in an upward motion along the line of my side. My ribs. My armpit, around my shoulder, then stopping just below my clavicle.
“I wanted to call you,” she whispered.
My eyes closed.
“I wanted you to call me, too.”
“I was afraid that by asking you to come, you’d feel obligated, and I wasn’t sure we were at that point in our relationship yet.”
I growled in frustration, wrapping my arms around her and holding on tight for a few long seconds.
“How about we both stop assuming what the other one is feeling or wants out of the relationship, and we just go from there?” I offered. “Start letting each other think for themselves.”
Her hand slid back down my side, then in and across my belly as she moved it to trail her fingers through the line of hair that led down the center of my abdomen.
I caught her hand. It was like ice in my palm.
“Naomi,” I tried to pull away, putting a little distance in between us as I spoke. “I’m in a real tight place right now,” I informed her, stepping back one more step. “I’m on the edge, and I don’t want to make this any more complicated. Plus, you just had surgery…”
“Four weeks ago,” she supplied. “I’m not hurt. I’m not delicate. And honestly, I’m fucking horny. You’ve done nothing but tease me with your hot, sweaty body for weeks. You’re here, I want you here, and I want you. There’s nothing else to say to that.”
There really wasn’t.
If she was being honest, then it was time for me to be honest, too.
“I would want nothing more than to fuck you right now,” I started. “But you make me lose my mind. I’m in a place that’s not my own, and I’m not even sure I’m welcome here at this point since I’m sure you shared with your entire family, and all of your friends, the reason for your impromptu visit.”
Her eyes shone with laughter. “You won’t die.”
I dropped my mouth to hers, kissed the ever loving shit out of her, and then released her lips. “I won’t die?”
Her mouth kicked up at one side. “Correct. You won’t die. They know, but they’re not going to kill you while you sleep.”
I moved until I could push her to the bed, Naomi's soft body moving compliantly with mine as we went.
The moment her calves met the bed, she fell back to her ass and waited for what I would do next.
“I’m fucking insane,” I murmured to her before dropping down on the bed between her thighs. “Your friend’s husband is going to kill me.”
“Drew won’t kill you,” she promised. “He might scowl at you, but he understands.”
I didn’t really care if he understood at this point or not.
>
All I cared about was the fact that I had a hot, welcoming woman underneath me that I’d done nothing but dream about for the last twenty days.
“You got any condoms?”
“One,” I grunted. “Enough for now.”
She hummed in agreement, then started to buck her hips in little tiny jerks as I ran my tongue up the length of her jaw.
“Need to be quiet,” I informed her as I bent low, taking her sweet lips.
The moment her mouth met mine, I started running my hands up the back of her shirt, slowly sliding it from her body, one slow inch at a time. However, since my hands were fumbling in the dark while I tried to contain the woman about to explode before I could even get inside of her, it took a lot longer than I would’ve desired.
“Had dreams about you and this,” I told her gruffly, my fingers playing along the ridge of her spine. “About how you’d feel underneath of me again.”
She bit her lip and stared up at me as I slowly let my fingers dance along the soft seam of her panties.
She sucked in her stomach, and I took the invitation for what it was.
The second my fingers met her pubic hair, she gasped. Her breathing was already ragged, as was mine.
Her hand moved, skimming over my belly, and stopping at my nipple.
As her soft finger played over the sensitive tip, my eyes closed and my hip jerked reflexively as my cock pressed into her bare, soft thigh.
She moaned into my throat, and my hand shifted deeper into her panties.
My fingers moved of their own volition once my hand was completely inside her silky underwear, seeking the heat between her thighs.
Due to the stretchiness of said panties, my movements weren’t constricted in the least as my fingers delved between the lips of her sex.
I felt the sharp nip of her teeth on my chest, and I grinned, dropping my nose to the top of her head and inhaling deeply.
“Missed the smell of you,” I told her. “Missed the way you felt underneath my hands. Missed the way you would laugh softly under your breath as you read your books. The way you twisted your fingers through a strand of hair and twirled it. Most of all, though, I missed talking to you.”
She shivered in my arms.
The next few minutes played out like my dreams.
I'm Only Here for the Beard Page 12