Hooked

by A. M. Hargrove

  “Me? Why?”

  “You’re acting different.”

  His weight rests on one elbow, and ignoring my comment he says, “You’re beautiful even when you cry. Did you know that?”

  “No.” And he’s evading my statement.

  “More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen.”

  His mouth touches mine. “Your body is heaven to me. There’s not a thing in the world about you I’d ever want to be different than how you are now.”

  What is he really saying? Is there something more? I decide to stay silent and let him speak.

  “All those years passed, and whoever thought I’d end up with you?”

  “I’d hoped.”

  “Not as much as I did.”

  I chuckle a bit. “Is this true confessions?”

  “Call it what you will. I’m just making the best of things.”

  This moment, the way he looks at me, I want to blurt out, “I love you.” But something—and I can’t describe it—stops me from saying it. Maybe it’s too new. Maybe it’s the fact I’m leaving. I don’t know. But his tenderness melts my heart further, and I am more aware than ever of the difficulty I will face when we will part ways.

  Our idyllic stay at Kiawah ends, and we return to Charlotte for the Thanksgiving holiday. My parents arrive, and everything at home is topsy-turvy for the week they are here. Ryder and Gina are in the residence, and Mark is here as well. He comes in for the entire week, disappointing his family, only to make them happy with the news he’ll be home for Christmas.

  Mom is all eyes and ears when she finds out we are an item, as she calls us.

  “So, Mark, tell me where you’re working these days.”

  “Mom, you’re always poking your nose into people’s business,” I say.

  Mom points her eyes at me, and I instantly wither. She was always good at that.

  “Riley, that was not a rude question,” she snaps back.

  “No, it wasn’t, Mrs. Wilde. But as a matter of fact, I’m in the decision-making process on what to do.” Mark explains the situation, and Mom listens. She advises him against Rhoades.

  “You’re a smart man. They obviously want you for a reason. Take what they want from you and run with it on your own,” she says.

  Hmm. I like that idea. But I see Mark’s side, too. I’m off in la la land, dreaming of how Mark could travel with me, if only, when I hear, “Riley, what do you think?” Mom asks.

  “Uh, sorry. What?”

  She flaps her hand a couple of times, saying, “Never mind. Why don’t you go and help Gina in the kitchen? God only knows if she can cook.”

  Mark lets out a laugh. “She’s great with bar food. I’m not so sure about turkey and the rest.”

  Mom says, “I don’t think your father will be excited about eating chicken fingers and fries for Thanksgiving.”

  “Jeez, Mom, I think we can figure out a turkey,” I say, heading into the kitchen. At least I hope we can. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t given it a thought, and I’ve never cooked one myself.

  When I get in the kitchen, Ryder and Gina have this enormous bird laid out on the counter with a laptop next to it, looking up turkey recipes. Oh, shit. We are totally fucked.

  “Hi, guys.”

  “Thank God. Do you know how to cook a turkey?” Gina asks, panic etching her features. The usual I don’t give a fuck Gina is clearly rattled.

  “Don’t you just rub butter and shit under the skin and put it in the oven?” I ask.

  Ryder looks at Gina and says, “We are clearly fucked. We should’ve ordered one.”

  “What does the Cooking Channel or whatever say?” I ask.

  “You’re supposed to brine it the day before,” Gina says breathlessly, looking like she’s about to cry.

  A little mood lightening is called for, so I say, “Well, I suppose we can eat tomorrow.” They give me a look that makes me want to take cover under the turkey roaster. “Okay, seriously, I was with a friend one year, and I swear all she did was stuff a ton of butter under the skin with a mixture of herbs and seasonings, and then basted the thing and it was delish. Oh, and she had one with a pop-out timer thingy, so she knew exactly when it was done so it wasn’t overcooked.”

  Gina looks at Ryder, and he shrugs. “What do we have to lose?” he asks.

  “Nothing but a turkey, a whole turkey, and that’s the truth,” Gina says.

  My eyes twirl from their silly humor. At least Gina’s halfway back to normal again.

  “You all do that and I’ll get the potatoes ready. Where are they?”

  Gina yells over her shoulder, “In the fridge.”

  I open the refrigerator and can’t find them. “Where?”

  “See those four trays?” Gina asks.

  My eyes scan the shelves, and then I see what she’s referring to and I about faint. “Oh my God. Mom’s gonna have a cow. You bought premade mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving?”

  “Duh. Yeah, and gravy, too.”

  I nearly choke. “So, like, we’re going to transfer these to a pan and hide these trays.” I go to work on that. “If Mom comes in here and sees the potatoes done already, Gina, you’re just gonna have to lie and say you fixed them yesterday or something.”

  “Or something,” she says, her hands covered in butter. Then she grins wickedly and whispers something to Ryder and squiggles her fingers at him.

  “Hey, stop it, you two. You are not alone,” I warn them.

  They laugh and finish prepping the turkey, stick it in the oven, and we work on the rest of the food items. When we’ve done as much as we can, we join Mom, Dad, and Mark. They’re all laughing about something, and we soon find out it’s a story about Ryder, Fletcher, and Mark from when they were kids and Fletcher got them all lost in the woods behind his parents’ farmhouse.

  “He bragged and bragged about how he could find his way around there blindfolded. And then it got dark, and we were huddled and freezing by the time his dad found us,” Mark says.

  Ryder jumps in the story saying, “Yeah, Fletcher always was directionally impaired. We’d go hiking, and he’d always want to take the wrong trail. Thank God for GPS.”

  When dinner is served, Mom wants to help in the kitchen, but we insist on doing everything. She finally relents and takes a seat at the dining room table. The turkey actually turns out to be pretty decent. Mom even says so, and Dad approves, too. The mashed potatoes, not so much. Mom ends up giving Gina all kinds of advice on how to make them the next time, while I have to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. Ryder kicks me under the table, and Mark squeezes my knee because I never had a chance to tell him.

  Later that night, before we go to bed, in separate rooms at the beginning, I fill him in on the big potato joke. Then he tells me about how Mom’s expectations weren’t high to begin with. He leaves me at my door, but later in the night, I feel him slip into my bed.

  “I can’t let a night go by without you, knowing they’re numbered,” he whispers.

  “I know. But Mom would die. The only reason Ryder and Gina get to sleep together is because Ryder is a guy and they’re getting married.”

  “Ah, the old double standard,” he says.

  “Yep, and no fair.”

  “It’s okay. Being here with you now, just having you in my arms, is plenty. Well, that’s a lie. I want to be buried in you, but it’ll have to wait.”

  Rolling over so I can see him, the light of the moon casts the room in a glow that’s reflected in his eyes. He’s so gorgeous, the way he stares. All I want to do is sink my fingers into his hair and bite on his lip.

  “Mark, I…”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to miss you so very much.” And that’s not what I was going to say to him. Not even close. But I can’t bring myself to say the words. I’m so damn scared.

  “Me, too, Eagle. Promise me something, will you?”

  “What’s that?”

  “You won’t run off and forget about me. You know,
absence makes the heart wander.”

  Is that a message he’s sending me?

  MARK

  Chase, Fletcher’s soccer playing brother, opens the door with his nephew in his arms.

  “Merry Christmas and here you go,” he says, passing him off to me.

  It hurts to be reminded how many weeks it's been since I’ve seen or held Riley.

  “Thanks.” He starts to march off. “What gives?” I point to Harrison, my godson.

  Turning back, he says, “Kids aren’t my thing.”

  Fletcher mentioned that when he named me as godfather. He said his brother, at twenty-five, was not ready for kids yet. And what does that make me at nearly thirty? Gramps? Harrison coos while gnawing on something with a great amount of drool.

  “How long are you in town?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “Through New Year’s at least.” He pauses, but then asks, “Where’s Andi?”

  I hadn’t seen my little sister, who’s six years younger than me, for far too long. Mom couldn’t have kids after me, and they adopted Andrea because she desperately wanted a daughter. I love her, but she’s breaking Mom’s heart lately. She’d gone to college in Chicago and hadn’t looked back after graduating.

  “I saw her last time you did. She hasn’t been home since.”

  It’s another reason I couldn’t go to California to spend the holidays with Riley. My sister had given an excuse that as a neonatal nurse she works crazy hours, and it won’t make sense for my parents to visit. It’s the same reason she gave last year, too. I know she’s hiding something, but my job has prevented me from checking up on her. Besides, she’s been Miss Independent since she learned to walk. She never asks for help.

  “Two years?”

  “Two years,” I agree. “You know how she is. She doesn’t need anyone or anything.”

  “There he is. Hey, Mark,” Cassie says, kissing my cheek before taking Harrison from me, and striding away. “You spoiled little man. If everyone keeps holding you, my job will be…”

  She’s gone before I can hear her finish that sentence.

  “So, you and Riley?” Chase asks, before tipping a beer to his lips.

  Cassie must have handed it to him, because he hadn’t been holding it before.

  “Yes, did Fletcher tell everyone?” I mutter.

  “No, Mom mentioned it,” he says, grinning.

  Their parents are my second ones as mine are to them. Chase is younger than Fletcher by several years, but he still tried to hang with us until we went off to college.

  “What about you?”

  He glances away. “Let me go get you a beer.”

  I hear my mom and Fletcher in the kitchen discussing the menu. Fletcher and his dad can be heard in the living room with the game going. I stand there for a second, feeling like something is missing. It doesn’t take long to know that besides the familiar voice of Gina and seeing my sister helping with the meal, I miss Riley.

  The past few weeks have been hard without her, in more ways than one. In two different time zones, we haven’t spoken very much except for a couple of sexy video chats. I’ve been crazy working as has she, just not confined to an office. Ben and the team have been great. And working there has opened my eyes to several things.

  “Hey,” Fletcher says.

  I blink and realize I’ve been standing there in the middle of the living room, zoned out.

  “You should go,” he advises.

  “What?’

  “See Riley.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have to be back in Charleston tomorrow.”

  “Don’t make the mistake I did,” he warns, yet again.

  By the time I make it back to Asheville to call Riley, she’s wiped and we barely utter Merry Christmas to each other before she’s begging off to get some rest.

  Things feel off, and I’m hardly in Charleston for a couple of days before I’m back home for the weekend. By Saturday afternoon, I’m jonesing for her so bad, I search for flights to California. Riley should be back in town on Monday, but I can’t wait a minute longer to see her.

  My cleaning lady is going to kill me as I dump the contents of the suitcase I’d been using to travel onto the floor so I can repack. There’s a flight that leaves in two hours. I don’t buy the ticket because there is another in three in case I miss that one, but it’s on a different airline.

  A knock comes at the door. I’ve been expecting an overnight letter to be delivered from Rhoades. So I don’t think when I open the door. It’s then I lose the ability to breathe.

  “Mark, are you going to let me in?”

  “Riley,” is all I can manage to say before I cup the back of her head and bring her lips to mine.

  Whatever is in her hand falls to the floor as I kick the door shut. I’ve missed the hell out of this woman as I devour her mouth. She winds her legs around mine, and I move steadily to my bedroom. I shove the bag off my bed to clatter on the floor. I press her into the mattress, hard and ready.

  “Take your clothes off, Eagle.”

  I stand straight and do the same, kicking my jeans off somewhere into the pile. She’s so damn gorgeous as she lies back and spreads herself for me. I lean down, taking one of her palm-sized breasts into my mouth. She moans, arching her neck back. Sinking inside her, I know for damn sure we’ve been apart for too long.

  The whimpers that leave her mouth let me know she’s feeling the same as I do. “Damn, Riley, I’ve missed you.”

  “Me, too,” she breathes.

  There are no more words as I pump inside her. I want to be gentle, but when her nails sink into my ass, my strokes become longer and quicker. I nip her shoulder at her neck as her nails rake up my back. She comes screaming my name. That’s all it takes for my balls to draw up ready to fire. I pull out wanting to prolong things.

  “On your and hands and knees,” I command, slapping her ass before fisting my cock. A rosy handprint rises to the surface of her creamy skin, and I stroke myself a few times watching.

  She gets into position, and I draw up behind her. Sliding my hand from her crease to her clit gets her back to bow. Cock in my hand, I aim it at my target and glide into her wet cunt. I bite off a curse and begin to move again. This time I keep one of my hands near her ass, probing at her puckered hole. My thumb breaches the barrier, and I mimic my in and out action while inching further inside.

  “You haven’t let anyone here?” I ask, briefly remembering a conversation about this.

  Her words are indiscernible, but the shake of her head isn’t.

  “Tonight I’m too fucking greedy, but I’m going to fuck every hole on your body before I’m done with you.”

  Taking out my thumb, I slide my index finger further into her. That’s enough to send me careening over the edge to shoot off in rapid-fire precision.

  It’s not over. She’s close to number two, so I flip her on her back and bury my face in her pussy. I get her off like the starving man I am. By the time I finish her off a third time and a second for myself, we’re both spent. She curls into me as we finally both drift off to sleep.

  When she stirs in my arms, I wake. Sunlight drifts in and warms my skin.

  “Morning,” she says with a radiant smile.

  That one word makes me realize something. I don’t want to wake up without this woman ever again. And it may be crazy. We’ve only been together for a short time. But I’ve known her forever. I’ve had time to watch her strength and inner beauty grow into the woman she is. She may have lived across the country, but I saw her every year since we first met as kids.

  I’m about to confess that when she says, “Don’t tell me you didn’t decorate for Christmas. This is so sad.”

  Grinning, I tug her out of bed. Both of us walk naked into the kitchen where I point at the window ledge.

  “See.”

  She laughs and walks over to the one foot Christmas tree my sister sent me with a letter threatening me to put it up som
ewhere. It came decorated and had lights.

  “Plug it in,” I joke. “It lights up and everything.”

  She turns around, and I have a hard time not admiring her tight body.

  “Did it come with wrapped presents, too?”

  I lick my lips. “Not exactly. Those are for you.”

  She stares at me, and I know I broke one of our rules.

  “But you said,” she sputters. “Everyone agreed, no presents.”

  “You agreed. I went along with it. Besides, I just happened to come across it.”

  She picks up the baby blue box with its white ribbon and holds it up. “You just happened to be in a jewelry store?” she asks with one brow raised.

  I shrug. “I have a mother and sister I had to shop for. When I saw this, I knew I had to get it for you.” I indicate for her to open it.

  Narrowed eyes land on me, promising I’ll pay for it later. She tugs the ribbon, which falls open. When she removes the top, her eyes grow wide.

  She lifts the delicate necklace and its charm. “It’s gorgeous.”

  Her eyes are huge, and her lip trembles. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad.

  “So, you don’t think it’s corny?”

  “No.”

  Her voice breaks a little, making me wary. Women are hard to read at times, so I hurry with an explanation.

  “They swear that it’s light enough to be worn every day, but sturdy enough to not break.”

  Tucking a finger under the golf club charm, she lets the light play over the attached jeweled golf ball.

  “Please tell me it’s crystal.”

  She’s referring to the faceted diamond. I shake my head.

  “You’re crazy. This must have cost a fortune.”

  “Stop thinking about it. You’re worth it. Let me put it on you.”

  Handing it over to me, she turns so I can stand behind her to fasten it around her neck.

  When she spins around, the platinum and diamond necklace falls just below the hollow of her throat.

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  I touch it before sliding a finger between her breasts.