His cottage was the ugliest house on the block. It was in a sorry state of disrepair and looked dilapidated and on the verge of falling in on itself. It was made to look even worse by the cute, obviously well-loved and well-maintained homes that surrounded it on either side. Kids played noisily in the yards on either side of the disaster and watched me curiously as I pulled in behind a mud-splattered Jeep. When I climbed out of my own car and headed toward the front door of the ramshackle home, I noticed that the tires on the ostentatiously masculine vehicle came almost up to my waist. It had to be Zeb’s. Anyone else would look ridiculous driving such a grotesque beast around town. He was the only one big and bearded enough to pull it off.
I didn’t even have to lift a hand to knock on the door. As soon as my bright pink tennis shoes hit the top step, the wrought-iron-and-glass storm door swung open and I was pulled inside by hard hands. I hit the center of a sweaty and strong chest covered in a thin layer of cotton. I returned the nearly smothering embrace and patted a back that was covered in ropy, work-hardened muscle, telling myself that petting him and clutching at him would be poor form under the circumstances even though I really, really wanted to.
“It’s gonna be fine. I promise.” My words were lost somewhere in his rock-hard pecs, but he must have heard me because he pulled back with a start and let me go.
Eyes the color of pine scanned me from the top of my tousled head to the tip of my shoes. When they landed on the bright pink sneakers encasing my feet, he grinned.
“Those don’t go with your outfit at all, Sayer.”
I huffed out a breath and tried not to drool too much when I noticed he still had on a tool belt that was tugging the top of his faded jeans down on his lean hips. There was a strip of taut, tanned, dark hair–dusted skin showing in the gap between his waistband and the hem of his T-shirt. I wanted to fall to my knees and lick all around it. That was a testosterone overload and my lady parts were ill equipped for the sensual assault the image had on them. God, there was something so undeniably sexy about a man who was good with his hands. There was something that made every girlie part of me pant and come to attention knowing he could break stuff with his brutal strength and then just as easily fix it back up.
“I was headed home. Standing in court all day in heels is awful. I’m not like Salem, who picked these out, by the way. I need to give my feet a breather.” I shrugged. “But thanks for noticing.”
He chuckled and guided me farther into the torn-up house. Walls were missing, parts of the floor were ripped up, lighting fixtures dangled from wires in the ceiling. He was right. It did look like a tornado had hit the place.
“They look cute. You could be wearing SpongeBob slippers and still pull it off, Say. I was just trying to break some of the tension. Shit is stressful right now, ya know?” He looked over his shoulder and reached out a hand to catch me as I tripped over a floorboard that wasn’t all the way nailed down. Thank the Lord I’d taken the heels off. I would have ended up on my face and then died from the embarrassment. “Sorry about the mess. I bought the house at a city auction. It was slated for destruction, so I snapped it up for next to nothing. But the price reflects the current conditions. It’s a fucking catastrophe, but when I’m done it’s going to be the nicest house on the block, and with the way people are flooding into this part of the city, I’m going to make my initial investment back tenfold.” He pulled me to his side as I tripped again, and chuckled into the top of my head as he stepped through a blown-out wall into what once must’ve been the kitchen. “This is the only room that isn’t filthy and has a place to sit. Mostly because we haven’t started working on it yet.”
There was what appeared to be an ancient kitchen table covered in a splattered and stained painter’s tarp and some sorry-looking metal folding chairs placed around it. Zeb worked the thick leather of his tool belt through the buckle and then caught the whole thing in a hand as it dropped. He thunked the contraption down on the table, making everything clatter and I shivered a little because even the sound of that was sexy. He plowed his hands through his hair and bits and pieces of plaster and sawdust went flying in every direction.
“I’m sure it will be amazing when you’re done. I’ve seen firsthand how talented and how skilled you are.” I sat down gingerly in one of the chairs he pulled out for me and gulped a little bit when he bent down so that his face was right in front of mine as he grinned wolfishly. I wanted to blurt out that he could eat me up anytime and anyplace he wanted. Those foreign feelings he stirred to life in me were frightful in their blatant want and need.
“Oh, Sayer, you ain’t seen nothing about how skilled and talented I can be . . . at least not yet.” He pulled back as I blinked at him stupidly, and propped a hip on the table next to me. “But that’s for another time.” He held out a hand and wiggled his fingers in a “gimme” motion. “Let’s have it.”
I dug around in my purse and pulled out the long envelope. I held it out to him and watched as his broad chest expanded out as he sucked in a deep breath. He stroked his beard, something I noticed he did when he was thinking hard on something.
“It seems so innocuous, doesn’t it? Like it’s just a normal piece of mail and not something that can change the direction of my life forever?”
I was a little bit surprised that I had had pretty much the same thought when Carla handed it over to me moments ago. I tucked some of my hair behind my ears and told him, “You would be surprised how important some pieces of paper end up being to us. We work ourselves to the bone for a degree we can hang on the wall. We pick the ruler of the free world by poking a hole in a paper ballot. Some people search endlessly for the right person so they can get a much-coveted marriage certificate, and don’t even get me started on the importance of the papers that someone leaves behind after they are no longer with us.” His eyes shifted to deep and dark forest green at my words. “When I got my hands on my father’s will, my whole world changed. Those papers were everything to me, so I understand why these are so important to you.”
When I got my first important piece of paper—my high school diploma—my dad stood stiffly at the graduation, his mouth pulled taut with displeasure that I had had to share the title of valedictorian with another student. I should have been the best in my class, and honestly I think the only reason he didn’t get up and leave was because of how it would have looked to the other parents in the auditorium. When I failed the bar exam the first time I took it, I thought he was going to flat-out disown me. I could drown forever in the ways I had seemingly let him down over my lifetime. I could have used a hug, some form of reassurance, and all I got was contempt. It was all I ever got from him.
My dad’s will was another piece of paper that changed my life forever. In it he finally disclosed the fact that he had fathered another child, a child he wanted me to split his estate with. A child he had never had anything to do with. A child he had abandoned and left to fend for himself. A child I was instantly and immediately obsessed with because his existence meant I was no longer alone. It was a simple piece of paper that my dad had left behind that had finally given me a family. A piece of paper that had brought someone who loved me and treated me with kindness and care into my life when I so desperately needed it. I would never undervalue the power of something that seemed so harmless as a simple piece of paper when I knew how powerful it could be.
We stared at each other in silent understanding until he took a deep breath and started to work on the top flap of the envelope.
“I thought I was ready for it to say anything . . . either positive or negative, but now I feel like I can only accept one response.”
I reached out and put a hand on his forearm as he worked the stack of papers out of the sleeve. His big hands were shaking and his eyes had shifted to a shade that was almost black.
“It’ll be okay whatever it says. We’ll make sure of it. There are options, Zeb.”
He nodded distractedly as his eyes furiously scanned the paperwork. His
lips pursed in the framework of his facial hair and his cheeks went pale and then immediately flooded with a bright pink heat. His gaze shifted to me and wordlessly he handed me back the paperwork.
I took it from him but didn’t look at it. I couldn’t tell by his reaction if he needed me to hug him or slap him across his face.
“What does it say? Are you Hyde’s father?”
He just stared at me silently, his heavy breathing whooshing in and out as we watched each other. I was getting ready to read the results for myself when he suddenly whispered, “I’m a dad. I have a son.” His voice was so rough, so full of emotion and feeling, that it almost hurt me to hear it. I had trained myself to feel nothing, or barring that to be strong and keep it to myself. Yet here was this giant of a man feeling everything at once, and I had never seen anyone look more bewildered or happy.
“Zeb?” It was part question and part concern.
He turned to look at me and again he stated, “I’m a father. That little boy is mine.”
“Congratulations. I can’t wait to introduce you to your son.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up and a dark spark flared to life in his gaze. I couldn’t help myself when I saw that tiny flash of his teeth—all professionalism flew out the window.
Instead I got to my feet, put the positive test results down on the messy table, grabbed his whiskered cheeks in my hands, and I did something I had never done before.
I kissed a boy.
Meaning I initiated it. It was so out of character, so opposite to how I normally behaved, again I felt like someone else was inside of me, controlling my actions. It was like the Sayer before Denver didn’t even exist.
I pulled him to me, planted my mouth over his, and kissed the shit out of him. It was one of the greatest and boldest moments of my life, right next to moving and tracking down my brother. If the way he responded was any indication, Zeb was all for my acting like someone I absolutely was not.
CHAPTER 6
Zeb
I was in shock.
I was consumed with equal parts elation and terror.
I was internally freaking out, but on the outside everything was focused on the fact Sayer had pressed her soft and clever mouth to mine. My reaction to her kiss and the hot, thick way it made my blood start to churn was so much easier to think about, so effortless to hand myself over to, instead of the other, more daunting emotions hovering on the periphery.
Hyde was mine and that would change my life, but in this moment, in this brief second, I could simply kiss Sayer and put my hands on her like I had been dying to do for what seemed like forever. She felt like the only thing that was nailed down, fused, and unmoving in my new world. I wanted to cling to her, hold on to the security that her no-nonsense and matter-of-fact demeanor poured over me. But more than any of that, I wanted to tangle my tongue around hers and fill my hands with her endless amounts of soft skin. I wanted to thank her with my hands and mouth for not looking at me like I had failed, like I had screwed up again. I made a mistake that I was going to do everything in my power to fix, and she understood that. At least the way we tried to ravage each other made it seem like she understood it.
I wasn’t a bad guy but I was a flawed one, and for her to see that, accept it unquestioningly as she pressed up against me like she couldn’t get close enough, made me want to devour her.
I deepened the press of my mouth against hers and put my hands around her narrow waist so that I could spin her so that she was the one with her backside propped against the edge of the table and I was leaning all the way into her.
I was dirty from a day of hard work but she didn’t seem to mind dust and grime as her fingers tangled in the messy mop of my hair or as my rough hands left fingerprints on her clothes as I started to pull at the hem of her silky shirt where it was tucked into the top of her skirt. She kissed me back with equal fervor, her quick tongue darting across mine and her teeth pausing to sink into the curve of my lip when I pulled back just a fraction to make sure I wasn’t tearing her delicate skin up with my beard.
She looked good with her blue eyes hazy with lust and too big in her face. When she flicked her tongue out to lick across the damp arch of her upper lip, I groaned and stopped trying to be considerate of her fancy outfit and shoved my hands briskly up the sides of her rib cage until my fingers encountered the edge of satin and lace. I would bet good money that this woman wore underwear that cost more than my Jeep payment every month, and my dick twitched at the idea of getting to see her in nothing but that. I was already hard from just being around her, but feeling the velvety press of her skin against my own was enough to have blood pumping and throbbing into my cock and making the situation behind my zipper decidedly uncomfortable.
She watched me silently as I brushed my thumb along the edge of her bra while I tried to read her reaction in that ocean-colored gaze. There was heady passion floating around in there, but it was at war with obvious uncertainty. She wasn’t telling me to stop and her chest was rising and falling just as fast as mine was, but there was a hint of desperation in her hold on my hair, and once I had pulled back from the kiss, she didn’t move or initiate another touch or kiss.
I grinned at her and used the edge of my thumb to breach the barrier of lace that was keeping me from the sweet swell of her breasts. Sayer was on the tall side for a woman, which was nice when we were all lined up like this, and where my fingers were trailing a dangerous and forbidden path she was all soft and pillowy. She had more than a handful hidden behind that bra that I was sure was just as fancy as the rest of her clothes even though I couldn’t see it.
“You going to tell me to stop?” My voice was rough with desire and everything else that was coiled up inside me and looking for a place to go.
She let out a shuddering breath and her hands moved from their death grip on my hair to rest lightly on my shoulders. She blinked those cerulean eyes at me and stuck her tongue out to lick at her lips again.
“Eventually, so you should probably kiss me again so I forget that this is totally inappropriate and that I need to put an end to it right now.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I placed the hand that wasn’t creeping up her full breast in the center of her back and pressed her so that she was bent into me and I had full access to not only her welcoming mouth but to the elegant curve of her neck and the delicate shell of her ear as that satiny river of blond hair fell to the side. I quit playing around and shoved her bra up and out of my way so that I could rub the now pointed and prominent peak of her nipple with the center of my palm. It made her whimper and I made sure I put my mouth over hers to eat the sound up.
She was pliable and liquid, melting into my touch and wrapping around me like she no longer had bones or any sort of structure to keep her upright. I was the only thing holding her together and straight and that made me growl in deep satisfaction. I would craft her, mold her into something that was made up of nothing more than desire, want, need, and satisfaction if she gave me the opportunity.
I shifted my hand inside of her shirt so that I could get my fingers around that nipple that was now stabbing me in the hand with impatience. I wanted it in my mouth so bad I could already taste the sweetness drifting across my tongue. I pulled back from the greedy heat and press of her mouth so I could not only see how my touch affected her but also so I could breathe and try to get some space, because as much as I wanted to, I knew there was no way I was getting my hands or my mouth under her skirt tonight. There was no denying we had a spark, some kind of tension that pulled and guided us toward one another, but Sayer wasn’t the kind of woman that would let a guy throw her on a grungy kitchen table and go to town. At least I didn’t think she was, but then her hand slipped from my shoulder and started skating down the center of my chest right toward where there was all kinds of trouble waiting for her behind my belt.
The caress of her fingers through the light cotton of my T-shirt felt better and burned hotter than I could ever remember f
ingers dragging across my naked skin feeling. This woman could unravel me with very little effort and that was a startling revelation considering I needed her so badly in more than one area of my life.
I brushed my fuzzy jawline across her cheek and had to smile when it made her giggle. It sounded so light and happy that I did it again just to hear her do it again. When her fingers stopped at the heavy buckle of my belt I sucked in a steadying breath and gave the nipple I was still playing with a sharp little tug before pulling my hand out of her bra and pushing back to put some space between us.
I traced the curve of her ear with the very tip of my tongue and got a full-body quake from her in response. I made a mental note to remember Sayer had a thing for ears and whispered, “I don’t know what your stopping point with all this is, but if you get my pants open I bet it’s going to go a lot farther than you anticipated. While I’m okay with that, something tells me you might not be. I want to fuck you, Sayer, but I think we can do better than a kitchen table that might not even hold us up. Not with the way I want you and all the things I want to do to you. I told you I would take you on a date; you should let me do that before you get your hands on my dick.”
She made a noise that was part squeak and part moan of distress. She lifted both her hands to the flat plane of my belly and pushed me back a little. I took a step back and she stepped around me, tugging on her bra and putting her shirt back where it rightfully belonged as she moved.
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