by Hazel Parker
The words hit me like a runaway train, straight and intense. I stared at my dad, not sure if I was hearing it right. But he was no longer speaking, and it was my mother who cleared her throat.
“What your father is trying to say is that your sister is marrying the mayor’s son, and it’s a very crucial time as our family will be exposed to some very public scrutiny. The media will be covering every detail twenty-four-seven, and…”
“…and my recent incident will be very bad publicity,” I finished for her, my voice soft.
Mom visibly shifted in her seat. “Yes. That’s exactly it.”
“You will still retain your last name,” George said, “But you can never talk about us or our relation. I want you to distance yourself from this family as much as you can and not involve us in your sordid lifestyle choice.”
“Then why was I asked to come here?”
“We’re not barbarians,” George intoned, his voice perfectly calm. “You can pack your clothes and some belongings before you deem this place non-existent. We also wanted to make sure you agreed to all this, so discussing it in person was the best.”
There was more, but I could barely hear it over the roaring in my ears. My body grew numb. The point was essentially the same: I wasn’t to come back, not even for a visit.
And their decision was final. I was cut out of the family forever.
It was a miracle how I managed to keep the smile on my face, but I did. It was terribly fake, but no one commented on it—not even Winnie. She was so very different from the Winnie in my youth, the one who used to follow me around and said she would grow up to be a Southern belle like me. Well, she was a Southern belle now, and the evidence was in the perfect poise and calm on her face and stance.
Nothing was going to bother her, not even our parent’s decision.
When it looked like they were done talking, I bid my goodbye with a gracious nod, repeating a mantra in my head to keep strong as my mother became gracious back and insisted that we stay for one last dinner. But I declined, and I didn’t miss the way she held back her sigh of relief. It ripped at my heart, and I almost flew towards my bedroom upstairs.
Whatever calm I had when I reached my bed and sat on it disintegrated quickly as I realized the severity of everything. I knew I was at fault, too, for never really communicating with them anymore after they kept taking jabs at my career choice—then, for never really reaching out to them after they got mad at my scandal and didn’t even ask for an explanation. I could have reached out, but my pride got in the way.
Now, only hurt was left.
In my head, the scene in my father’s office replayed itself over and over, like some sick, twisted movie that had me mesmerized and horrified at the same time. My numb body started to feel light, then heavy, and I started to feel something pounding in my chest and burning it up. It felt like a sadistic squeeze, and I placed my palm over it to stop it. Of course, that didn’t help.
So I started taking deep breaths—in and out, thinking of the good things in my life. My career, which had always been the goal and the happiness I sought. My own courage at handling my first solo interview after the scandal, and the support of those I trusted the most. I am strong. I am okay.
Gavin.
He was still downstairs, and I needed to pack. I told myself to move.
But my body wouldn’t move.
Belatedly, I realized that something was falling on the hand on my chest and that my cheeks were wet. I blinked the tears back, trying to keep them in. I was stronger than this. I was so much better than this—and if I could survive a sex scandal and the public’s condemnation, how difficult could my small and unsupportive family be?
The door opened, and I looked up, a smile already forming on my face.
“I’m ready to pack…”
The words drifted off when I saw that it was Gavin and not my mother, nor my sister. I kept the smile up. But he frowned, closing the door as he did so.
“What’s wrong?”
My smile froze. “Nothing’s…”
He walked closer, pinning me with a look that said only one thing: bullshit. He sat down beside me, then did something that had me gasping—pulled me abruptly until I was on his lap.
My breath hitched, and my wall started crumbling. I tried to push him off, but he held firm.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, voice soothing. “Let it out, Honey.”
The hands that tried to push on his chest clung. I looked up and saw understanding in his gaze.
And that was when I knew I was truly alone and cut off from my family.
The storm inside me poured out, and so did the tears.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GAVIN
There was something intense happening inside Honey, something that was dark and pent up for far too long. It was an unhealthy kind of feeling, and it was coming out of her in waves that weren’t going to be pulled back no matter what I did.
Her body vibrated from the force of it, and tears fell from her eyes. She barely made any sound, but it left me speechless all the same as she stopped pushing me away and began pulling me closer, her hands gripping as if her life depended on it. I think this is what they call an ‘ugly cry’.
My frozen state stopped resisting enough to relax, and I tentatively wrapped an arm around her at first. There was nothing sexual about the action—instead, there was the urge to make those tears go away, to make her forget about all her problems in the world.
To make her smile again.
It astonished me. It was unfamiliar territory, and instinct told me to run very far away and never look back. But it was that same instinct that told me to pull her closer, too, to give her the comfort she needed when no one else obviously would. Both contradicting urges warred inside me, a storm of its own that had me reeling.
I chose to stay.
Because I did, I didn’t hesitate in wrapping my arms around her more firmly. My hand moved to her back and made circular rubbing motions, unsure of what I was doing but hoping it would help. She was shaking and chilled, and I did my best to lend her warmth and hoped it was sufficient.
Her crying bout lasted a long time, though she didn’t say anything. She was a quiet kind of crier. We rode through it together, and I got to witness as her shaking shoulders eventually settled, as her tears eventually quieted down and left her hiccupping.
She buried her head into my shoulder, her mouth settling on the nape of my neck.
“What happened?” I asked.
I already had a suspicion of what happened.
“I got cut off.”
“Oh. From your inheritance?”
“From the family. My scandal is tarnishing their public image and they need to completely separate from me.”
My hand on her back froze as I took that in. She began to explain, her sentences broken and distracted, but I understood it all perfectly, anyway. The urge to comfort rose in me again, especially when she snuggled.
“You know what I think?”
“What?” she mumbled.
“You’re stronger than your scandal, and you shouldn’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”
Her body stilled. Then it relaxed gradually, and a soft sigh came out of her lips. “You’re too good to me.”
“It’s the truth,” I said lightly.
She sighed again, her head coming up and her mouth touching my cheek. It was a soft, gentle kiss, and I could feel her gratefulness in the gesture. I should leave it at that, should take it as another sign of the growing friendship between us.
But sometimes, I was too curious for my own good.
I looked down, at the same time she looked up. Her face was tear-streaked, and I gently wiped them off. Our faces were inches away, and my gaze automatically trailed down her lips, which were soft and pink and—
We leaned in at the same time and kissed at the same time.
Both mouths opened willingly, and both mouths moved slowly. But just because it was slow didn
’t mean it wasn’t desperate, and the hunger clawed at my belly and threatened to make me push her flat on the bed and have my way with her. But I resisted the urge and stayed still, my hand sliding up to cup her face, tilt her head and angle the kiss deeper.
Her tongue slid in and sought out mine. Her hands slid down my chest and had my stomach clenching from intense pleasure, and the feeling traveled down and had me growing so damn hard. My hand fisted on her waist, and the things I wanted to do to her flashed in my mind and had me groaning. An answering moan came from her, one that was heartfelt and deep and bound to make me sink.
Then the thought flashed that we were at her parents’ house—the same parents who just abandoned her forever.
And I was taking advantage of her vulnerable moment.
I pulled away abruptly, breaking the kiss. I opened my eyes and found her eyes closed, tears clinging to her lashes. I rubbed them softly with my thumb, wanting to erase them.
Her eyes fluttered open. Her hands crumpled my shirt as we looked at each other, everything and nothing written in our gazes.
Then we backed off at the same time.
She pulled away from my lap and sat back on the bed, and I cleared my throat and ignored my raging erection.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be,” she interrupted. “That was both of us.”
“Yeah…heat of the moment.”
Something flickered in her honey gaze before she nodded her head and gave me an awkward smile. “Definitely. I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship.”
“You’ll always be my friend, Honey. And if you need a shoulder to cry on…”
“You’ll always be there,” she supplied softly. “No kisses next time, eh?”
I gritted my teeth, then nodded. “Yeah.”
She didn’t meet my eyes after but still spoke lightly and casually, like what happened didn’t matter at all and was forgotten in a snap. Maybe it was best for her. She started taking out a bag and looking around her bedroom, and the sadness I saw there indicated she didn’t even know where to start. So I let her be, knowing it wasn’t my place to argue.
“Want me to book plane tickets for tonight?”
She shot me a grateful look. “Yes, please.”
She looked so vulnerable, and I wanted to gather her in my arms all over again. I hightailed it out of there before I could follow temptation, knowing now wasn’t the time.
Any time wasn’t the time.
*****
We arrived back in Florida without a hitch, with Honey unusually quiet and me trying to engage her in conversation. She ended up sleeping for most of the flight, then staring straight ahead when I drove to our apartment building. I knew part of it was because of her packing and how she ended up taking just one tiny suitcase full of magazines—magazines that she and her sister apparently used to read together when they were kids. She took nothing else, and that left me baffled.
It was so damn sad, and I wanted to knock someone out again—particularly her parents. Who would do that to their child?
“Are you spending Christmas with your family?” she asked, her tone light. Too light.
I tilted my head. “My grandparents raised me, and they’re gone. And I am divorced so, I guess it’s gonna be a pretty lonely Christmas.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Wanna have a joint one?”
She eyed me suspiciously. Then, when she saw that I was being sincere, her face lit up and brightened up my mood immediately. “Can I cook? I want to cook. Glazed ham.”
My mouth tried not to quirk. “I can add pancakes.”
That made her laugh, and the sound was so bright and beautiful that it had me aching in so many places. “That would be delightful,” she exclaimed.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t prepare much the days after our agreement as another race came to play, and Honey got busy with practice and then the actual thing. She won second this time, with a newbie driver taking first place and looking like he won the world. Honey was genuinely happy for him and sincere in her congratulations, and I watched as she kept to the side and let the guy take the limelight—a beneficial thing for both of them, really, as it allowed her time to relax from more speculations.
There were two more races in the span of two weeks, with Sara being more available now to watch and monitor it. That gave me the leeway to stop being by Honey’s side too much, and I used the free time to get around town and find something to give her for Christmas. I knew she liked books, and of course I knew she loved cheesecake, but I wanted to give her something that she could add to her memories and look back to when this was all done.
I don’t know why I was feeling so sentimental about this gift, I really wanted to get her something meaningful. Those magazines she took with her got to me, and I wanted to make her forget what they represented.
It took three days until I finally found it—something fun and amusing. I kept it at my place and kept my chill, attending her last race before Christmas and watching as she slayed it. With her winning streak going strong, there was no doubt in my mind she would win the big leagues if she just put her mind to it.
Then Christmas was here, and I had the gift in my hands. I wanted to place it somewhere she wouldn’t find it until the end of the day—which was why I found myself sneaking into her apartment and trying to ignore the smell of something baking in the kitchen. She sure started early.
Her bedroom door was partially open, and a knock determined she wasn’t inside. I pushed it open quickly and looked around, finally spotting a space between her bed and bedside table. I could always remind her to turn off the bedside lamp later or something like that so she’d wander over here.
Perhaps the distraction of trying to fit the gift in between the space got me preoccupied because I didn’t notice the footsteps. But I did notice the bathroom door opening out of the corner of my eye, and my head automatically turned in that direction just as she walked out…with only a towel wrapped around her body.
She froze at the sight of me. I froze at the sight of her, my mind telling me to look away and my eyes…well, obviously not listening.
Her hair was damp and clinging to her neck, and the short towel clung to her legs, which were long-looking and creamy. My mouth went dry.
“Gav?” she asked uncertainly. I opened my mouth to explain, but no sound came out. Her gaze zoned in on what I had in my hand. “Is that for me?”
Damn it. Foiled.
“Yeah. Sorry for barging in. I wanted to send you on a hunt.”
To my amazement, she didn’t look mad. In fact, a leap of excitement came on her face as she strode over and knelt beside me. She took the gift and gazed at me with puppy-wide eyes.
“Can I open it now?”
This close, I could smell her shampoo—something jasmine again, making me dizzy. I nodded. “Sure.”
She tore at it. She gave out a squeal of delight when she eyed the cheesecake-designed pillow, and suddenly I felt embarrassed, what a stupid gift.
“It’s not really a big dea—”
“It’s perfect,” she gushed. Her arms came up to wrap around me in a hug.
I froze again for completely different reasons.
Her scent attacked me. Her body warmed me up and sent me straight to hell, and I had no other choice but to follow its needs.
She froze, too. Tried to pull back. But it was too late.
With a growl, I pulled her back in and crashed my mouth against hers.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HONEY
Gavin kissed me like he wanted to fuck my brains out—a shocking thought that popped into my mind and lingered there, burning my wits before it traveled down my body in slow, lingering waves. My blood pounded, and my heart beat a staccato beat that had me gasping.
And then I was kissing him back, because there was nothing more I wanted in this world.
It didn’t matter that I was in a towel and he was fully dressed. It didn’t matter that he gav
e me the cheesiest gift there was, because it was the thought that made it sweet. It didn’t matter that this was all lust, and that he probably didn’t have any feelings for me, and that we were bound to get burned if this kept on.
All that mattered was that I wanted it.
And so I took it.
My body surged up. It pressed against his, and the fact that he didn’t protest at all made me delighted and wet inside. Then delightfulness turned to heat as he slid his tongue in and did a hard, hungry taste, and heat turned to electricity when his hand slid down my waist. Fingers teased, and it was only when something brushed against my breast that I realized my towel had fallen to my waist.
And I still didn’t care.
A calloused pad brushed my nipple, at the same time his mouth nipped my bottom lip. A strangled sound came out of me as pleasure shot through, and I couldn’t even tell anymore if I was shouting or just moaning. Wanting one last word in, I reluctantly broke the kiss—something Gavin used as an opportunity to place his mouth on my neck and shower teasing, open-mouthed kisses.
Holy mother of all holies.
“Is this another heat of the moment?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“You decide,” he rasped, his voice equally hoarse. Rough. Shivers ran down my spine, and his other hand took mine and guided it down, pressing it flat against his trousers until I was touching what was hard there. Very hard. “Does this feel like heat of the moment?”
He sucked on my throat, and he thumbed my nipples to distended buds. My eyes crossed. “I can’t tell. I might have to check further,” I gasped.
And with that parting shot, I unzipped his pants and slid my hand in, cupping his hardness through his boxers and delighting in the jump of his shaft against my palm.
In response, his fingers pinched my tight bud, and his mouth slid down to my shoulder. I gasped. I stroked and massaged his long length, wanting it longer and harder and pulsing for me.
Only for me.
I hadn’t been with a man since Desmond. It made me realize I wanted to experience it again, whether it was with my hand or my mouth.
And I wanted it to be Gavin.