Meant to Be Mine

by Lisa Marie Perry

  Sliding a finger into her, he continued to kiss her and she came, pushing against the intensity but unable to squirm away from it.

  “You survived it,” he said, opening one of the condoms, pinching the tip, and rolling it on. He stretched to kiss her mouth as his body fit over hers.

  Sofia held his shoulders, her fingers sinking in when they slipped on the sweat-slicked surface of his skin. “It was always you, for me.”

  Burke took one of her hands and kissed the knuckles. “Look at me.” Then he released her hand, held himself steady, and pumped into her deeply.

  Her body’s impulse was to tighten, to lock up, and that amplified the snap of pain.

  Wincing, she gasped in air through clenched teeth.

  “Open your eyes, Sofia…” His whisper sounded so close. She’d shut her eyes but opened them again to the concern and heat at war on his face. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “You’ve gotta relax your grip, babe. Your thighs are crushing me a little.” Kissing her, massaging a hip, he began to work loose her tension as he continued a deliberate game of drive-deep-and-retreat into her. “The truce’s still on, in case you’re wondering if tightening up like a vise on me violated that.”

  A giggle escaped. And it was okay. Completely okay to laugh, to figure this out, to listen to each other as they took for themselves.

  Stroking his shoulders, she sank into the bed and accepted the fluid rhythm of his thrusts.

  He cradled her, reversed their positions and she was on top, rocking onto him at her pleasure. Then his hands snared her hips and the force of her grinding against the drive of his body pushed him deeper, pushed her further.

  Palms on his chest, she dropped her head forward and her hair swept him as she rode out a brutal orgasm that grabbed him tightly and tantalized him to follow.

  Sated, she was exhausted and sore, but she had to tell him something.

  Sofia fell asleep sprawled on his hard, comforting chest before a single word of I love you, Burke could escape her lips.

  *

  Could sheer force of will make a person materialize in front of you? Burke had to wonder as he radioed a reply to his dock boss that once he finished transporting his current container he’d come straight to the office.

  “No prob. Iz can keep her entertained,” his boss’s hoarse smoker’s voice said over the radio, speaking of Iz Rosetta, the dock office secretary. “Wolf, she’s a good-looking one. You’re a lucky sumbitch.”

  Burke squeezed a quick smile before returning his focus to the container his crane was unloading from the docked ship that’d come in from Singapore two days ago. He’d been assigned to the first of two gangs pulled for this gig, and this was his third day of waking up extra early to drive in to the harbor and work the ship.

  He was in a good mood because this morning, when he’d gotten up at four, Sofia had been with him, her warm and supple body ready for him. Problem was, the wake-up fuck had him aching for her all day.

  Now she was here on the dock, and it felt like an eternity before his container was unloaded and he could relinquish the crane to another operator while he headed to the office.

  In gear, he stepped inside the blessedly air-conditioned building with his hard hat, goggles, and safety vest still on.

  “Hi,” Sofia said, getting up from a creaky visitor’s chair in front of Iz’s desk and kissing him hello.

  Oh, damn, can you make yourself scarce, Iz?

  Iz relaxed in her chair and feigned fanning herself.

  “You taste like cherry cough drops,” he said to Sofia, drawing off his hard hat and raking back his hair.

  “Your boss gave me one while I waited. I don’t have a sore throat, but I was afraid to decline.”

  His supervisor was a my dock, my crew, my rules kind of man who did his job superbly but had the people skills of a rabid beast.

  “He thinks cough drops are preventative,” Iz supplied. “When he’s passing out Halls, he’s in a happy mood.” She picked up a tablet from an overcrowded desktop and a near-empty carafe from a table near the door. “I’ll take care of the coffee crisis. The blinds stay open, so use your discretion.”

  When Iz slipped out the door, Burke banded his arms around Sofia. Kissing her freckle-speckled nose, her cherry lips, he said, “I’ve been half-hard most of my shift, thinking about you.”

  “I won’t feel sorry for you. I put a cock ring on a dildo and simulated a hand job for a customer this morning, and I’ve been half out of my mind thinking about you.” Returning his kiss, she cupped him through his jeans. “We could be quick—”

  “Discretion,” Iz reminded, breezing back into the office. “Forgot my phone.” With a succession of tsks, she left again.

  Sofia blushed. So damn cute she was when little moments like this overwhelmed her or took her by surprise. They’d been together for a few weeks now, rolling into August as an official “item,” as Hannah Slattery christened them when she conceded her quest to play matchmaker for him.

  Regular rotation day shifts had him twisted up by the end of the workday, pining to hear Sofia’s voice, catch a whiff of her hair, touch her skin. Coming to her at Blush or meeting her on the marina in the evening was the highlight of each day, but it wasn’t enough.

  Time was precious. He wouldn’t ask her to cut back on her hours at the sex shop; he couldn’t chance distancing himself from the line of work that saved him when he needed to escape himself. But too many miles lay between Society Street and the Eaves Marina, and to go on like this when all he wanted was to love her seemed like punishment.

  Loving her was his redemption, but penciling in that love around two separate lives was retribution.

  If they could each give a little…

  “I know you need to get back, so I won’t keep you long,” she said. “I want to show you something and I figured I’d come here, since historically every time I attempt to present business matters in private we get off track.”

  Burke chilled, suspecting what lay inside the portfolio she retrieved from her bag. “Don’t give me that.”

  “You don’t know what it is. Here, sit with me and take a look.” Sofia nudged him to lower onto the chair and she knelt beside him as he opened the portfolio. “I consulted with Bautista on this start to finish, but feel free to have your lawyer review it.”

  The business proposal was black print on white paper—harmless, but the meaning behind it wasn’t.

  “This is our plan for a club, spanning across all three basements. You already know about the entry between Blush and Cape Foods. I told you before that Cape Foods connects to Bottoms Up, though Bautista had the entry sealed when he set up the bar. He’s restless. Caro and Joss and I are buying in.” She glanced at him. “Burke, if you’re concerned about his involvement, don’t be. I trust him.”

  Bautista had respected Burke’s refusal to sell Cape Foods when he’d asked before Luz’s death—but Sofia couldn’t do the same: respect him.

  “He’s not my concern. You are.”

  “Burke, this is solid. Flip to the back and you’ll see our offer. Joss and I have each secured the money and we’re willing to negotiate finer points. We’ve comped it out and this agreement’s very fair.”

  An agreement. She’d gone ahead and had an agreement drawn up. Papers that would take away the one thing his father left him that didn’t hurt.

  “It’s not for sale.”

  “But you told me Deacon treated you horribly. He didn’t love you.”

  “No, he didn’t love me. Do you?” What was she feeling when he was moving inside her and it seemed their souls were entwined? What did she want from him when he’d already given her all of himself?

  Right, the Cape Foods building.

  “Burke, we’ve been through so much. Don’t you know me, how I feel?”

  “I told you from the beginning that I won’t read your mind.”

  “This isn’t a one-way street. You never said you love me.”

&nb
sp; “Damn it, Sofia, I love you. Just you, from square one.” The truth sliced his vocal cords on its way up. “I loved you when I couldn’t stand you.”

  “You love me?”

  “Every goddamn thing about you. How does that affect this agreement you put in my hands?”

  “I—This is my dream. It’s a vision and purpose. It’s home.” Her voice caught, and she approached from a different angle. “Why hold on to that building, Burke? Deacon abused you, and by keeping that link alive, it’s as if you’re keeping that abuse alive. How can you want it when your father was a bastard?”

  “You’re using that as leverage?” he cried. Then, just as he’d taught her, he said Fuck it and set the truth loose. “The thing is, Sofia, folks with bastards for fathers shouldn’t throw stones.”

  “What does that mean? Is that an insult to my dad?”

  “Finnegan’s got you terrified of being left behind. You’re with me, but you’re shutting me out. Don’t think I don’t notice, Sofia, that you’re trying to be a carbon copy of Luz.”

  “Luz grabbed her dream. What’s wrong with that? And yes, Finnegan left me and it scarred, but I can be grateful that he tried to be a good father. I was sick for a long time and it wore him down.”

  “Wore him down? It almost killed you. His daughter should’ve been the most important thing in his life. As I see it, Finnegan’s no better than Ellen.”

  “I’m not defending him. I’m explaining that the stress got to him. It builds up—God, I know that. Stealing money from your dad’s store was stupid, but it was one mistake and Eaves vilified him for it. Trauma like that can change a person’s composition.”

  “If those excuses help you deal, okay. But he’s a bastard for cutting you out.” Burke stood and slapped open the portfolio on Iz’s desk blotter. He snatched a pen from a Red Sox mug. “And Sofia, it wasn’t one mistake. I can’t remember how many times I caught him stealing from the store, can’t count how many ass-kickings I took so you wouldn’t lose your father.”

  As he clicked the pen and began to scribble his signature on the documents, she grabbed his arm. “Burke, stop!”

  “Here.” He tossed the pen, put the portfolio in her hands. “The fucking building’s yours. Any other papers, have Bautista send them to me.”

  “I don’t want it this way.”

  “Does how you get it even matter, as long as you end up with that building?”

  She bristled. “My dad—Finnegan—he stole money from Cape Foods before that incident?”

  “Yes. The first time I caught him, he asked me not to tell you or Deacon. He said your medical bills were bleeding him dry. But he kept coming back and taking more, and I tried to make up the difference with tips and some side construction jobs around town. Deacon thought I was cleaning out registers and he beat me every time the drawer came up short.”

  “Oh, God.” She shook her head. “I thought you hated me.”

  “I told you I never did. I felt sorry for you. All I’ve ever tried to do is protect you.” He pointed to the portfolio. “Good luck with your dream. I’m not a part of that, and, fuck, it’s probably better this way.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That I have a ship to unload. Go get started on your life and let me live mine.”

  “Running, Burke, really?”

  “Yeah.” He opened the office door. “This time I’ll take a page from your father’s book and won’t look back. Maybe then you’ll respect me.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Sof, you need to see this.”

  In the musty stock room of the former Cape Foods building, Sofia excused herself from a conversation with the contractors who’d come out to prepare a bid estimate for the complete renovation that would turn Eaves’s modest Society Street market into an erotic treatery.

  Even with the windows open and industrial-size fans running, the building was still stuffy, and she jogged down the basement steps with trepidation. The muggy August heat made for an uncomfortable several days of organizing Joss’s takeover of the space.

  When Sofia had turned in the paperwork to her lawyer, Bautista had said quietly, “You look like you went through a lot of pain to make this happen.”

  “He’s gone,” she’d said, and left him to handle the legal matters. The treatery and Guilty Pleasures would happen, but she and Burke were over, strange as that sounded now that she’d become so used to having him around. One dream was coming true at the cost of another.

  She and Joss hadn’t celebrated. Instead they’d immediately gotten to work because they intended to open Lust Desserts for business in the fall.

  Joss waited at the bottom of the stairs. She jerked her thumb behind her and said, “I’m blown away.”

  They ventured into the basement, which was now cleared of everything but old building materials and produce cartons cluttered with miscellany.

  “I found this in one of the cartons,” Joss said, giving her a cobwebby sketchbook. Page after page offered creatures that appeared to be conjured from the devil’s nightmares.

  “Burke’s old drawings. He had a thing for horror.”

  “Keep turning,” her friend said.

  A vampire; a Transformer-type monster with metallic fangs; a tree with serpents for branches and reptilian eyes carved into the bark.

  Then something different. It appeared to have been drawn with an unsteady hand, the shading clearly done with fingers, as faded prints smudged the pencil stain. A boy in baggy clothes with dark hair flopping over his brow sat holding an iPod in one hand and a book—no, a drawing pad—on his lap. In the background a thin girl with long hair and a frowning mouth stood leaning toward him, as if spying over his shoulder.

  Sweet God…

  “That’s you, isn’t it?” Joss asked. “You and Burke in that passageway.”

  She nodded, and a tear fell. “Oh, no, I’m going to ruin it.”

  “If you’re crying now, maybe don’t look at the next page just yet.”

  The warning only encouraged her to flip the page.

  Another pencil drawing, of shaggy-haired Burke wearing a fierce expression and some kind of formfitting superhero getup complete with a billowing cape. One hand was in a fist pointed straight ahead and in the other was the hand of a girl. The same girl from before, but she was smiling and her eyes crinkled. On her T-shirt was a robust, shiny heart colored with red ink.

  A healthy heart, and Burke her hero.

  Was she dragging him down in this sketch? No, she realized, she was flying away with him.

  Sofia couldn’t see, and rubbing tears out of her eyes only introduced irritating dust. “I—I can’t.”

  Joss was quiet as she took the sketchpad and closed it, then it was apparent that she, too, was crying. “He loved you back then.”

  “I know. Now I do.”

  Why hadn’t she told him before that she loved him? To protect her pride she’d held herself back from saying it first. What had that mattered?

  “I need some time in the apartment, okay, Joss? I have to be by myself for a few. Can you deal with the contractors?”

  “Yeah.” Joss sniffled and handed her the sketchpad. “You should hold on to this,” she said, walking out of the room.

  Sofia accepted it but it remained closed as she went next door, entered her apartment, and set the sketchpad on the kitchen table. She heard Tish’s toenails click on the floor.

  “Tish, I want you to listen to something.” She pulled out her phone and loaded her saved voice mail messages. Sitting on the floor, she hit the PLAY button.

  “Niece—see, I said ‘niece,’ so you know I mean business. Anyway, are you still driving up for Christmas? If you are, you owe a backlog of presents. I wear a size six. I’m kidding…I got everything for the peach cobbler. You can take it back to New York…Okay, well, call me back or I’ll just see you on Christmas. Okay…All right, bye-bye.”

  Sofia set down the phone, swiped ruthlessly at unstoppable tears. She’d stayed in the city that
Christmas and sent Luz a Happy New Year card she’d gotten free from Manhattan Greetings. She’d signed it Love, Sofia and addressed it, but she hadn’t sent another card and had been planning to finally drive out to see her great-aunt for her birthday.

  Planning, procrastinating, putting off the woman who’d been her mom when no one else would…

  The pages of the calendar had turned so quickly, it seemed, from December to May of the following year. There’d been other voice mail messages from Luz, other one-sided conversations decorated in her Argentine accent, but Sofia had tried to conserve storage on her phone and had deleted most. She’d managed to skip this one, somehow.

  Thank God, because she had Luz’s voice at comfortingly easy access. The recording added dimension to Sofia’s memory of a woman with long black hair, a smirk on her lips, and ambition in her eyes.

  She played the message again, then once more, and she cried in her hands. “I love you so much, Aunt Luz. Thanks for this life.” Only, it was her life. The heart in her chest was hers to protect. It was time to own both fully, and she couldn’t without letting love in. She had somebody, loved him savagely, and he needed to know it.

  She rose up on her knees and wrapped her arms around Tish. “I’ll be a good mom to you, Tish. And Luz’s keeping an eye on things.”

  Tish’s rear end met the floor and her thick, furry tail thumped the hardwood. She didn’t howl or snap, but there was a tiny whimper from the large, intimidating beast.

  Sofia kissed Tish’s cold nose. “She knows you miss her. Until we see her again, let’s have a good life and get into heaps of trouble, and I’ll let you know every day that I love you. Can we give that a shot?”

  Tish inclined her snout, and Sofia chose to interpret that as Okay.

  She ruffled the dog’s gorgeous fur, then whispered, “I love you, Tish.”

  *

  Sofia didn’t have a shopping cart of soiled laundry or a friend carrying cupcakes, but the following afternoon she went to The Dirty Bastards anyway—and she wasn’t leaving until Abram Slattery gave her answers.

  “I understand that he’s pissed,” she reasoned with the man, “but it’s been weeks.” Yesterday she’d broken down and started trying to make contact, but the phone calls, texts, and emails to Burke remained unanswered. Her number and email address might be blocked, but how would she know if he’d taken such a severe step?