by Brenda Novak
She accepted his tongue at the perfect moment, and he groaned as she offered him hers.
Then it was like Victorian Days all over again. Intense and immediate. She pulled off his shirt, and they nearly knocked over a chair on their way to the bedroom.
She locked the door so that Lucas couldn’t walk in on them before helping him pull off his jeans.
“I’ve never wanted anyone so badly,” he admitted when her hand closed around him.
She looked up, her gaze challenging, but she didn’t say anything. He told himself that that was okay; her touch was enough. This time, he hadn’t been drinking, but she made him so drunk on desire he couldn’t think of anything but pressing inside her.
Once he’d finished stripping off her clothes, he turned her toward the window so that he could study her bare body in the moonlight. He recognized the size and shape of her breasts, the smooth plane of her belly, the flare of her hips. He’d already memorized every detail. This, like the incident in the tub, was just a chance to become reacquainted with the image he’d carried in his head for so long, the same one he’d recalled thousands of times.
Lowering his head, he took her nipple in his mouth. It’d been over seven years since he’d last done this. The pent-up desire from years of denial, both before and after that incident, made him feel like the character in Chocolat who gave up chocolate for Lent but finally couldn’t bear it any longer, broke down and ate everything in the chocolate shop.
She gasped as his tongue moved over her and began to tremble, which made him rock-hard.
“You’re so beautiful, Tash,” he said. “Tell me you want to feel me inside you.” He’d thought the fact that she wasn’t saying anything wouldn’t bother him, but her silence was becoming noticeable. It was so different from last time. Then she’d told him he was the only man she’d ever loved, served her heart up on a platter. And what bothered him now was that he’d hurt her so badly afterward she wasn’t going to give him even the slightest access to her heart. “I want to hear you say it,” he added.
“No,” she said.
He hadn’t expected her to refuse. And it surprised him that she sounded so resolute.
He lifted his head. “Do you want me to stop?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “That’s up to you.”
He could tell she was enjoying herself. So what was going on? “Tash?” He felt his eyebrows jerk together. “What do you mean? Is this okay?”
“Of course,” she replied. “I obviously want it, too.”
He lowered his voice as he let his forehead rest against hers. “But you won’t say you want me.”
“No.”
“Fine.” He nipped at her neck and bit her hard enough that it would probably leave a mark. But, for some strange reason, he wanted to leave a mark, something he could see in the morning to remind him of this night. “I’ll make you say it.”
“I won’t do it,” she insisted.
“We’ll see about that.” Lifting her in his arms, he put her on the bed. “You say you don’t need a man? That you prefer a sex toy?” He settled himself between her knees and started to kiss his way down her stomach. “We’ll see if a sex toy can do this.”
* * *
Natasha grabbed handfuls of the bedding on either side of her so that she wouldn’t fist her hands in Mack’s hair, the way she wanted to. She’d never had a man do what he was doing, not in quite the same way, and the pleasure was so intense she couldn’t help writhing beneath him. She was addicted to him. Everything he did seemed to be better than anyone else.
But right when she was on the cusp of what promised to be the greatest climax of her life, he stopped and lifted his head. “Do you want more?” he asked.
He thought he had her. She was so close—of course she would want more. But she refused to tell him what he wanted to hear, wouldn’t give in, even now.
“Come on,” he said when she just glared at him. He attempted a grin. “All you have to do is make it a little more personal.”
Squeezing her eyes closed so she would no longer see his handsome face, she shook her head.
“Why not?” he asked.
She could understand his surprise. This wasn’t how things had gone last time. She’d told him anything he’d wanted to hear and probably a lot more. But she couldn’t do that again. She could no longer be that open, that trusting, that vulnerable. She had to remove the power he held over her, at last, so that she could take control of her own heart and life and come out victorious for a change. “You can stop...if you want,” she managed to say above the pounding of her heart.
When he didn’t respond, she opened her eyes and thought she saw some real disappointment on his face. But she knew he couldn’t care that much. So she remained resolute and prepared herself, in case he pulled away.
Fortunately, he didn’t. With a curse that suggested he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, he put on a condom and pressed inside her, and the pressure and friction of just a few thrusts was all it took to throw her over the edge. She gasped as her body began to spasm, and he surprised her again by pausing to kiss her forehead and each cheek throughout the climax.
“God, you’re stubborn,” he complained as he began to move again, but she just closed her eyes and tried to pretend he was someone else, anyone else, so that she wouldn’t feel the tenderness that threatened to pry her fingers off the precipice of emotional safety to which she clung.
This was just physical, a mutual use, she reminded herself. She’d needed the release. It’d been a long time since she’d had sex with anyone, even Ace. But it didn’t matter how good it felt. It was ultimately meaningless, even with Mack. He’d already proved that he looked at sex that way. She wasn’t going to be the stupid fool her mother was by believing the way to a man’s heart was through a strong climax no matter how many times her partner proved that his affection didn’t last longer than it took to have one.
When he finished and she felt his body tense as he came, she couldn’t help tightening her embrace, if only slightly. That she’d shared this intimate experience with him was somehow meaningful in spite of all her self-talk. He’d always meant the world to her. He probably always would. She just couldn’t allow herself to think about it too much.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he rolled off.
“I’m fine.” She wanted to reach out and pull him close to her, to hold him while they fell asleep, but she resisted the urge.
That would be crossing the line.
* * *
Mack woke up three hours later. Natasha was still sleeping, so he wasn’t sure what had disturbed him until he heard someone in the bathroom.
Lucas was up.
Because he felt terrible that Ace had disappointed the kid, he slipped out of bed, pulled on his jeans and crept out of the bedroom so he wouldn’t bother Natasha.
Sure enough, the light was on in the bathroom.
He rapped lightly on the door, which stood halfway open, and poked his head in.
“Mack!” Lucas cried, seeing him in the mirror.
Mack put a finger to his lips. “Shh. Your mom’s sleeping,” he said, but as soon as Lucas was finished, he swept the kid into his arms.
“I’m so glad you’re here! Did you bring me something?” he asked.
“I did.”
His eyes went wide. “What is it?”
“Do you want to see it now?”
He nodded vigorously.
“Okay, but it’s still nighttime. Will you go back to bed afterward, if I show you?”
He nodded again, and Mack carried him down to the living room. “Wait right here,” he said before going out to get the box from his truck.
“It’s so big!” Lucas exclaimed as Mack carried it in. “What is it?”
Mack set it down so that Luke could see the picture on the front. “It’
s your own basketball hoop—and it’s for indoors, so you can have it in your room.”
“Yay! I don’t have one of those!” He rushed over to take a closer look. “Will you get it out for me?”
“In the morning. I’ll set it up for you, and we can play with it.”
“Thanks, Mack!” he said and hugged Mack’s leg.
“Sure thing, buddy.” Mack lifted him up, and Lucas put his arms around Mack’s neck instead.
They stood like that for several seconds with Mack holding him and rubbing his back. He was feeling... He hated to put a name to the emotions that were going through him. So he ultimately refused to think about it and carried the kid back to his room.
“Will you lie down with me for a few minutes?” Lucas asked when Mack tucked him in.
Mack smoothed his dark curly hair off his forehead. “Sure.”
As Mack lay next to him, Lucas showed him that he could spell some simple words. He did some math, too—addition or subtraction problems Mack gave him—before he finally drifted off to sleep, at which point Mack let himself out of the room.
Mack knew he should go to the couch to spend the rest of the night. Natasha had made it up for him. But the thought of her naked in bed was too much of a temptation.
After he let himself back into her room and peeled off his jeans, he climbed under the covers and drew her body up against his.
“What are you doing awake?” she murmured sleepily.
“Lucas got up.”
“He okay?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry. I got him back to bed.” He kissed her, thinking that would be it, but she not only returned the kiss, she rolled to face him, and the next thing he knew, he was inside her again and her legs were locked around his hips.
Fifteen
When pounding on the front door woke Natasha, she realized two things at once: Mack never made it to the couch, and she had company.
With a yawn, she lifted her head. Mack seemed to be sleeping through the racket. She wasn’t surprised. He’d always lived with at least one brother, was conditioned to noise. She remembered what the Amos household had been like when she lived there. It had been nothing short of chaotic.
She needed to answer the door before whoever it was woke Lucas. But as she got up and grabbed her robe, she caught sight of the clock on her makeshift nightstand. Surprisingly, it was after nine—not as early as she’d thought.
As soon as the time registered, she had little hope that Lucas would continue sleeping, and sure enough, she heard his voice the very next instant. “Mommy? Can I answer the door?”
Since she was coming, she gave him permission so that whoever it was wouldn’t knock again. Maybe Mack, at least, could sleep a little longer.
But as she started down the stairs, she heard a voice that made her blood run cold. “Who owns the truck in the drive, Lucas?”
Ace’s mother! “Peggy?” Natasha said before Lucas could answer, tying the belt on her robe as she hurried down the last few steps. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s our weekend with Lucas, isn’t it?” she asked as though Natasha should’ve been expecting them.
Spotting Mack’s T-shirt on the floor, Natasha used one foot to kick it to the side before Peggy saw it and rested her hands on her son’s small shoulders to keep him next to her. With her hair falling about her face in a tangled mess, she had no doubt it was apparent she’d just rolled out of bed, which would make her look lazy in comparison to her in-laws, who were always up at the crack of dawn. Not only had Peggy had her hair and nails done recently, she also had her makeup on and her clothing looked as though it’d just seen an iron, even though it was supposed to be casualwear.
Fortunately, Blake wasn’t standing beside her. He was still behind the steering wheel of their large Mercedes sedan. It sat at the curb in front of the house, and he kept lowering his head to look at them.
“It’s not your weekend. It’s Ace’s weekend,” Natasha clarified. “But he never came last night.”
Peggy was tall, which made it easy for her to look down her nose at Natasha. “Because he couldn’t,” she said simply.
He couldn’t? Or he wouldn’t? Were Peggy and Blake, once again, stepping up to do something one of their sons should’ve done? From what Natasha had seen since marrying into the family, they filled in a lot. “But he didn’t even return my text messages or my phone calls,” she said. “He didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“Can you blame him for ignoring you?” she asked. “Can you imagine what he must be going through after learning you had an affair with your stepbrother?”
Natasha tried not to let a sudden burst of anger make her hands tighten on Lucas’s shoulders. He didn’t need to be privy to an argument. “First of all, I never had an affair with anyone,” she said, keeping her tone as measured as possible. “I was loyal to your son throughout our marriage. And second, Mack isn’t my stepbrother. He’s not related to me in any way. We didn’t even meet until he was twenty-five.”
“His father married your mother, didn’t he? What about that part? And the part where you were just sixteen when you went to live with him?”
“What, exactly, are you accusing me of?”
To her credit, Peggy’s gaze dipped to Lucas, who was staring up at her, transfixed by the pique in her voice, which wasn’t something he’d heard very often. Peggy went to great lengths to be the ideal mother to her boys and grandmother to Lucas, typically tried to pretend all was well even when it wasn’t—like when Natasha’s marriage to Ace began to crumble. “I’m saying we’re extremely disappointed in what we’ve learned. That you could mislead us the way you have—”
“I never misled anyone,” Natasha interrupted. “Ace and I weren’t exclusive until several months into my pregnancy. If you’ll remember, he was still seeing his ex-girlfriend, Rhonda Coates, until I was nearly four months along.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “You should’ve told him you’d been with someone else around the time Lucas was conceived.”
In Natasha’s mind, it hadn’t mattered. She and her baby came as a package. Any man she married would have to accept them that way. And Ace had been the one pursuing her. It wasn’t as if she’d been trying to convince him to make that commitment. “He never asked. I admit the thought crossed my mind, but I figured some things were better off left unsaid for the sake of our marriage, which fell apart anyway, but—” Natasha heard movement behind her and whipped around. When she saw Mack coming down the stairs, wearing only his jeans and a steely look on his face, she felt her heart sink.
“Do you want a weekend with your grandson or not?” he asked Peggy. “Because if you do, I suggest you go back and wait in your car, and we’ll bring him out when he’s ready.”
Peggy gaped at Mack, her mouth opening and closing twice with only a short puff of air coming out each time. It was obvious that he’d just climbed out of bed—and the way Peggy’s gaze suddenly focused on Natasha’s neck, she could guess it was Natasha’s bed.
Natasha wished Mack would’ve let her handle this, but she knew none of the Amos brothers ever shied away from a fight. They always had each other’s back—and, if she was around, they had hers, too.
“So you’re together, then?” Peggy asked when she finally found her voice. “Or just screwing each other like you’ve probably been doing since you were sixteen?”
Natasha was stunned Peggy would say something like that in front of Lucas. So many retorts went through her mind, but Mack answered before she could. “It sounds like you might be a little too upset to take Lucas this weekend,” he said. “Why don’t we plan it for another time?”
“What’d you say?” Peggy asked, so shocked her voice squeaked on the last word.
“You heard me. I won’t have you making derogatory comments about his mother. Let us know when you’re willing to behave in an appr
opriate manner.”
Natasha doubted Peggy had ever been criticized for being inappropriate. She considered herself a modern-day authority on good manners.
“Come on, Lucas,” Peggy said. “Get your stuff. We’re leaving.”
Mack stepped around Lucas. “Maybe you didn’t hear me.”
“Natasha?” she said, ignoring him. “Don’t tell me you’re going to allow this.”
“Of course I’m going to allow it,” Natasha said. “Because Mack’s right. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Lucas wrinkled his nose as he looked up at them. “So I’m staying here with you? Are we going to play with my new basketball hoop, Mack?”
“We sure are,” Mack said, and Natasha sagged in relief when Lucas seemed perfectly content with that, because Peggy couldn’t have hurried away from them any faster if they’d been holding a gun.
* * *
The closest coffee shop, a place called The Daily Grind, was busy, but Mack had said Natasha would feel better just getting out of the house, and he was right. He’d put the basketball hoop up in Lucas’s room while she showered, and they’d all left together about an hour after their confrontation with Ace’s mother.
“You okay?” Mack asked once the barista had called his name and he’d put Luke’s hot chocolate in front of him before handing her the coffee she’d ordered.
“I’m fine.” She slid her phone under the table so that he wouldn’t see the text that had just come in from Ace, who’d said he couldn’t believe she’d treat his mother so poorly and that she couldn’t deny them the right to see Lucas—it was in the custody agreement. She wasn’t going to mention it to Mack. She figured she’d deal with it later, didn’t want this thing between her and her ex to turn into all-out war.
Mack seemed to measure her response. “Are you mad at me for getting involved when Ace’s mother came this morning?”