* * *
Gavin
Kenna down on her knees, unbuttoning my shorts, was the stuff of fantasies, something I’d never known existed. Twenty-eight years old, and I’d never felt the way I did for McKenna with any other woman. Seeing her so unleashed before me only emphasized that.
“I want to touch you,” she whispered and tugged down the zipper of my shorts. Confident. Beautiful. Perfect.
Hands shaking, she reached inside my boxers until she had my cock in her hands.
I sucked in a breath. “You’re doing a pretty fucking fantastic job of that, I’d say.” My voice sounded garbled, and my knees began to shake. I lowered my hands on the dresser for support, scared I’d fall on top of her.
She pulled me free of my zipper, her long fingers wrapped tightly around the base. I swallowed so hard I could feel it in my balls, but I didn’t move, afraid she’d change her mind. Afraid I’d change my mind too.
Did I want her hands on me? Fuck yes, I did. Did I want her pretty mouth wrapped around the head of my cock? More than anything else. But I hadn’t come here expecting this, especially since last night was the first time we’d spoken in almost a month. Still, Kenna worked in unusual ways. She didn’t need to be wooed, but she did need to be put up a pedestal—something I’d always do if she’d let me. She deserved everything she never thought she’d get, and I’d be the guy to try to give that to her.
Wordless, she dropped a kiss on the head of my cock. Her tongue slipped over the slit seconds later, then circled around the head. I jerked my hips forward, and she lapped at the pre-come already slipping out. I shuddered, my spine going so rigid I thought I’d break. Her eyes met mine when I dropped my chin to my chest. That blond hair of hers fell over her cheeks, and I swore I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
Needing to touch her, to make sure she was real, I reached down and ran my knuckles over her cheek. She shut her eyes, taking me in deeper.
“Fuck…” I hissed, struggling to keep from jamming myself down her throat. I’d been given head only twice in my life—and that was when I was fucking seventeen and twenty-four. My experience was limited when it came to women. Not that I didn’t have a lot of opportunities—I just never felt like taking anyone up on it. Still, I knew what felt good, and her mouth wrapped around me was fucking amazing.
Slowly, she slid her free hand around to my ass and used the other to squeeze the base of my balls. Then her mouth slipped down further, and her tongue slid across the base, and I was so damn done for.
I gripped her hair with the hand that’d been on her cheek, still using the other to hold myself up against the dresser. In and out, I guided her slowly, setting the pace as the sound of her sucks filled the small bedroom. I licked my lips, watching her. More than anything else, I wanted to kiss her, taste her, feel her body against mine, around mine.
“You’re damn good at that.” I groaned, teeth gritted. I held my breath as the base of my balls started to tingle.
I was close. Too close.
Kenna smiled around my cock, and her eyes turned into seductive blue slits. She looked like the devil’s temptress, and damn if that didn’t make me want to sin.
She sucked harder, speeding up, then slowing down. My fingers clenched tighter in her hair, and with every pull of my hand, she went faster. Harder. Deeper.
“Damn it, no.” I finally hissed, not ready for this to end so soon. I pulled her off me, not caring about the pout on her lips as she stood, only needing to make her feel as fucking wanted as she made me.
I turned her so her back faced the dresser, then I slid my sweaty palms around her hips. With no second thoughts, I walked backward, urging her with me, until the back of my knees grazed her mattress. She giggled as I stumbled, then moaned as I pulled her down on top of me. When I tugged her head close to press my lips to hers, her laughter was soon replaced with a low moan.
Back arched, she rode my bare cock through her wet panties, panting, her skin damp with sweat. I gripped her ass harder, encouraging her to move faster, wishing she’d take the lead, strip those silky things away, and fuck me right.
“Gavin,” she whispered, pulling her face back to look down at me, her arms along both sides of my head. Our eyes met, holding, an unspoken question in her stare that faded only when she lowered her forehead to mine.
I shuddered, that image forever ingrained in my head. McKenna was hurting, and the only one who could fix her in that moment was me.
“Need you,” I whispered between slow kisses, my throat twisted in knots.
“I’m yours,” she whispered, panting. “Always yours.”
The words were like angels singing in my ears, only reaffirming what I already knew.
McKenna was the final missing piece to my heart.
Desperate to please her, I reached down and tugged her thin panties aside. Seconds later, she lowered her pussy over my cock, moaning so loudly I had to press her mouth back to mine to silence her. Not that I minded. Kissing Kenna was like performing magic. Something I wanted to master, even if I knew it could all be an illusion in the end.
“Gavin,” she managed, pulling away as she rode me. “You feel so good.”
I groaned, hands on her hips as I guided her over me. Slow, hard, deep.
Minutes later, she moved to sit up, her hands going flat against my chest as she rocked her hips. She bit down on her lip this time, stifling her moans. And I hated that she had to be quiet, when all I wanted was to hear her scream my name.
Seconds passed, maybe minutes—fuck, it could’ve been hours for all I know. I didn’t ever want to stop. I wanted her to fuck me until I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
She dropped her head back, her movements taking me so deep I had to grit my teeth to keep from yelling.
“Yes, Gavin, yes,” she whispered, rocking even faster. The headboard clanked against the wall, and I reached back, holding it steady with one hand, while I used the other to palm her breast over her bra.
“Jesus, Kenna.”
Her body trembled at my words, her hands shaking on my chest too. Then she came like a storm in the night, her lips parted but silent. Fast as lightning, impossible to contain, and so fucking beautiful I didn’t ever want it to stop. I palmed her ass and squeezed it hard with my release, more than positive I’d probably just left bruises on her beautiful skin.
She collapsed face-first against my chest, panting and unable to catch her breath. I rested my lips over the pulse point in her neck, feeling it race. Peace filled my chest, surrounding my heart, as one solitary word flashed through my mind: love.
It was a concept foreign to me, yet something I wanted so badly—with her. With our baby. If I were a crying man, I’d have been sobbing at the thought. Instead, all I could do was hold her to me. Promise to never let her go.
“That was…” She sighed.
“Perfect.” I shut my eyes, grinning against her skin.
Didn’t matter that my pants were still at my ankles, or that I was still half-hard and seated inside her. I loved this woman.
I loved McKenna.
Chapter 24
McKenna
Pregnancy sucked, and I had the newly messed-up brain to prove it. After an amazing bout of sex with Gavin, I remembered that I could not, in fact, go out with him as he’d asked.
Mainly because I didn’t want to leave my sister.
So, what did I do? I showered, begged Gavin to hide out in my room for a little while longer, so as not to freak Hanna out, then pulled her aside in the kitchen.
“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, rubbing my damp hair with a towel.
Hanna was leaning against the sink, clutching a full glass of water. “I’m fine.” She smiled a little. “So, that’s him, huh?”
“It is.” My cheeks heated, worried now more than ever that she’d heard us. I’d been disresp
ectful by not checking on her when he got here. No doubt showing up like he did freaked her out.
She nodded and looked at the floor. “He’s nice.”
“Yeah?” I grinned and leaned back against the sink next to her.
“Uh-huh. He said he was your friend though. I thought…”
This time I was the one to look at the floor. “It’s complicated.” God, though. What was so complicated about it? I liked him. I liked the idea of him being the father to the baby we’d made. And I liked even more that he was open to the possibility of being with someone like me.
Someone who, sadly, couldn’t figure out what she wanted.
“What’s so complicated about it?”
I shrugged, twisting my hands at my waist. “He wants to keep the baby.”
“And you don’t?”
“That’s complicated too.”
“Everything is complicated with you, isn’t it?”
I flinched, hating that she could so easily point out my flaws right there in front of me. Deciding now wasn’t the time to get into it, I asked if it was okay for him to hang out with us.
“Sure.” This time when she looked up, her dark eyes were lighter. Proof, again, that she was getting better every day with being around men and healing emotionally. I would never push her, but I was glad she’d been pushing herself.
Fifteen minutes later, though, Hanna sat on the floor by my feet, clutching my right leg as if it were her literal lifeline, while to my left sat Gavin, stiff as a bean pole, only harder because of the muscles. Muscles I wanted run my hand over again, and again, and again…
I swallowed, shutting my eyes, ignoring the cries of the woman on the TV. Normally, watching rom-coms and romantic dramas was my thing—one way to obtain that temporary happiness I craved—but today, it was the last thing I wanted. On one side, I had a sexy, yet uncomfortable man, and on the other, a woman who screamed, terrified, with each of the sexy, yet uncomfortable man’s movements. Hanna may have agreed to let Gavin hang with us, but that didn’t mean she was doing well with it.
On my lap sat a plate of spaghetti and garlic bread from my favorite takeout restaurant, but I couldn’t eat it because I’d forgotten my fork. Normal circumstances would mean pausing the movie, walking toward the kitchen, and grabbing said utensil, but this was not a normal circumstance.
“Hanna.” I cleared my throat. “I need a fork. Would you mind grabbing one for me?”
Like a toddler, she clung harder to my leg, her nails digging into my calf. Her eyes stayed locked on the TV, but I knew her attention was anywhere but. I sucked in a breath, earning a look from Gavin, who stared down at my sister, then me again, brows furrowed.
He nodded a second later, likely sensing the situation—God bless his sweet ways. “I’ll grab one,” he said.
“Thank you.” I watched him stand, loving how perfect his ass looked in his cargo khakis. I wanted a quarter, because bouncing it off his backside would no doubt be the highlight of my life.
Once he was out of the room, my sister relaxed. But when I pressed my hand to her shoulder, she jumped like I’d slapped her. “Hey. You’re okay,” I soothed.
Slowly, as though it hurt to move, she turned to look up at me, her eyes going to the spot where Gavin had been, then back to me. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to speak but shut it the second he walked back into the room.
“Here you go.” He sat on the edge of the couch and set a fork on my plate and a napkin on my knee.
Tears blurred my eyes. Jesus. What was wrong with me? A man brings me a napkin and a fork, and I swoon? Die a million emotional deaths?
“Thank you.” I zeroed in on the TV again, fearing he’d see how warped I was.
I felt my sister’s stare on my face and the question in her eyes at the same time. I didn’t look at her. No doubt if I did, she’d freak out over the fact that I was on the edge of tears because of a simple gesture by a man.
Gavin cleared his throat and sat back against the couch cushions. Hanna’s grip loosened a bit on my leg, but throughout the movie, she never once stopped touching me. Gavin, on the other hand, kept his distance—didn’t even try to hold my hand once I’d finished my food. Part of me worried that he was second-guessing everything, but the saner side of my brain convinced me he was just being respectful because of Hanna.
Once the credits started rolling, I glanced out the window. It was already dusk, the sunlight barely sneaking through my curtains.
The three of us were silent. And other than the credits on the TV, everything was still. Eventually, I had to wipe my eyes, because nothing said depressingly romantic like an old couple dying on a bed within each other’s arms.
Hanna, on the other hand, didn’t move. I half wondered if she was asleep. When I leaned forward to check, I found tears on her face and a glazed-over look in her eyes.
I settled my hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, but before I could open my mouth to ask her if she was okay, she broke in first. “I’ve always wondered, why the birds?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she peered up at me from over her shoulder. “I mean, why the birds at the end? Do they signify something?”
“Umm…” Well, hell.
Gavin cleared his throat. “I’m guessing they signify freedom. Going home. Finding peace. Hope.”
I swiveled around to look at him, finding his eyes still on the screen. Philosophical Gavin made my insides flip-flop.
Hanna cleared her throat and started in again. “So, like…peace after death?”
I looked back and forth between the pair, wondering if I should intervene.
“In a way, yes,” Gavin said.
“So, let me get this straight. The birds fly away, and all is okay? Because I’m not feeling okay after that movie.” Hanna scowled harder at the screen, still not looking at us.
I narrowed my eyes at my sister, confused by her sudden ability to communicate with Gavin, when she’d been scared to death of him the entire movie.
He leaned forward, his forearms on his knees, and dropped his head as he spoke. Or should I say recited freaking poetry.
“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—”
Boom. Crash. Sputter. Those were the remaining bits of my heart fluttering to a free fall into my toes.
“Y-you know Emily Dickinson’s poetry?” Hanna questioned, eyes widening.
I looked at him too. Confidence oozed off his body like sweat from skin, but not purposeful confidence. Natural. A man with a hidden heart that was moments from bursting alive.
My fingers itched to grab him, pull him to me, hold him close. He didn’t know that my little sister had been a history major, with a minor in English lit at Tulane University, studying artifacts and…stuff like that. Stuff I wasn’t into, that bored me to tears, that she related to on a level I never could.
Hanna relaxed more than she had all night, turning just enough to see Gavin completely. A smile split my lips as I listened to the two of them converse.
“I do.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy once more.
My eyes were the ones to widen in surprise at his confession. But I didn’t question him, too afraid I’d break the spell between him and my sister.
“Really?” Hanna asked. “That’s…incredible.”
Inch by inch, her body relaxed, and warmth filled her eyes in a way I hadn’t seen in a very long time. Hanna had always been a smart girl, but she’d never had anyone to have intelligent conversations with. I was the compulsive, distracted sister who came around every once in a blue moon, the one who failed to concentrate on anything longer than two seconds at a time. Her brother—my s
tepbrother—was ten years older than she was, so by the time she was ready to have deep, stimulating conversations, he was out of the house and married. Mom was a wicked bitch who discussed fashion and traveled in more social circles than any normal parent should. And her father? My stepdad? He was never home, always away on some random adventure across the world, mostly of the leisure variety because he couldn’t stand my mother either.
Gavin nodded and looked at the floor. “When I was younger, I did a lot of reading, mostly old poetry books and whatnot. That’s not the kind of stuff I can forget.” He cleared his throat, definitely uncomfortable. I snuck my hand close to his and grabbed his pinkie, squeezing. It was the only way I could get across to him how thankful I was for what he was doing, even though he probably didn’t have a clue.
“Color me impressed, St. James.” I smiled.
His gaze flittered down to our joined fingers, and his face seemed to brighten with his grin.
“Do you ever, I don’t know, maybe go to the museums around here?” Hanna met his stare, then quickly looked at the floor again.
His brows furrowed. “Like, history museums?”
She nodded slowly.
“Not really. History wasn’t my thing.” He stroked his beard, a sign he was thinking. “But there is a historical writers’ museum in downtown Chicago that I wouldn’t mind going to. They showcase different authors from the nation’s past. F. Scott Fitzgerald to Maya Angelou.”
Hanna gasped, her brown eyes twinkling with excitement when they met mine. “Oh my God, can we go? I mean, I’m not into literary history much, but I’m a sucker for new museums.”
“Absolutely.” I smiled. At this point, I’d do anything to see that kind of excitement light up her face again.
“Do you, um, think you’d want to go too, Gavin?” She bit down on her bottom lip.
My insides warmed, and pride radiated through my chest. She was taking a new step—a positive one.
“Sure.” He nodded once. “If it’s okay with you.”
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