She glances back over her shoulder, lips split apart with each gasp as I ram into her, and I lean forward and kiss the hell out of my girlfriend. She has to arch back, causing me to slide deeper.
“Thatcher,” she gasps against my mouth.
I knead her breast, and once she’s back on her forearms, I’m all the way inside, touching a sensitive place that causes Jane to cry in soft breaths. Sweat caked on our skin, hair damp, and blood on fire.
“Deeper, deeper,” she moans.
I’m deeper than any man has ever been in this girl, and I’m not letting up. Not as her legs throttle. Not as I ascend a peak. Not as her fingers clench the blankets.
We come together in a spine-tingling, head-whirling, body-transporting climax, and I milk the sensation in a few more pumps while she searches for lost breath.
When we’re done, I pull Jane in my arms, and she splays on my chest like she’s lounging belly-down on a pool floatie. I make sure she’s under the blankets, as the night grows cold, and our eyes stay on each other for minutes upon minutes.
She’s lost energy to speak.
I’m not sure if I can say what needs to be said, and in time, we both drift to sleep.
19
JANE COBALT
“It was some of the best sex I’ve ever experienced, by far,” I whisper quietly to Moffy. Not that many people are in earshot. The tiny pub is nearly empty as the sun drops. One local drinks hard cider at the bar, and the bearded bartender chats leisurely with him.
We relax on the small sofa section, nestled around a fireplace and mounted TV. I love the old charm of northern Scotland. Coat of arms decorates wooden-paneled walls, and the oaky aroma of Scotch permeates around us.
“Even though you started out pushing him away?” Maximoff asks under his breath.
I press my knuckles to my lips. “I hate myself for that.” It pains me to admit. “I’m not even certain how it derailed there.” I stare at my lap. “But then again, I can’t see myself just…letting him take complete fault for everything and I’m trying not to be guarded about my feelings.”
We glance over at the bar as Thatcher, Tony, Donnelly, and Farrow order drinks. Oscar and Charlie are talking at a high-top table near the fogged window, and I hope my brother plans to stay longer. Most everyone will be here soon, and all of us only arrived earlier for a meeting with a local chef.
Charlie even asked genuine questions about catering, and I thought Maximoff’s smile would shatter the window. It’s almost like high school again, the three of us on good terms.
Wedding business is actually fun to discuss, but Moffy changed the subject to my relationship before we dove too deep into his nuptials.
“Janie.” Moffy scoots closer on the tufted leather sofa. “It’s pretty much normal to need the person you love.”
I slip my frilly pen in a binder pocket. “Do you feel as though you need Farrow?”
“Yeah.” He nods a few times. “Christ, I think I needed him before he even joined security.” He makes a face. “Don’t tell Farrow that.”
“Cross my heart,” I smile, but my lips fall quickly. I place my binder on the cushion beside me. “But regardless, you can still survive on your own without Farrow. Correct?”
He cracks a knuckle, lost in thought. “Maybe, but it’d be…” Grief clouds his eyes. “I don’t know. It feels like death.”
“God,” I murmur. “I don’t want to feel like I’m dying if my boyfriend isn’t with me.” Sudden panic scorches me, and I waft my sequined pink sweater. “I think I lied to him last night.”
“Wait, what?”
“I told Thatcher that I’d rather survive with him than without him, and sitting here, talking to you, I know that I’d rather be able to survive on my own more than anything else.” Yet, my throat closes like that’s not entirely truthful either, and my cheeks crinkle in a wince. “I’m not being logical, am I?”
He hugs my shoulders with a tough arm. “I don’t know if there’s a lot of logic in love.”
That frightens me.
I lean into my best friend and stare off at the wall.
He can tell I’m strangely quiet. “Maybe you should talk out your feelings with Thatcher and see what he says.”
“I’ve tried, and I set myself up for failure every time.” Being around him tends to tongue-tie me, and whenever I delve into emotions and fears, I feel like a panicked, spinning and wobbling coin. And I’m always scared I’ll land on the wrong side.
“He said he’d go at whatever pace you set,” Moffy reminds me. “He’s here for the long haul, so if it takes you a millennium to blurt out what you need to, he might still be around.”
“I know.” Thatcher is too good for me and my insecurities. I’m not so sure I deserve to have a man who’s sacrificed everything for me and who also has to wait forever for me. Sadly, I mutter, “He deserves better.”
“No,” Maximoff snaps. He touches my forehead like I’m running a fever.
“Moffy.” I start to smile.
He drops his hand. “Tu es la meilleure. Il a même de la chance de respirer le même air que tu respires.” You’re the best. He’s lucky to even breathe the same air you breathe.
“It’s hard to feel that way when he just had to announce how many times he thinks about fucking me in a single day.” Charlie made us flip a card an hour ago, and it’s not like either of us has kept a count of our impure thoughts. So we did our best to estimate an average.
“Last I checked, we’re not normal, everyday people,” Moffy tells me. “Unless we’ve left this universe and entered one where our faces aren’t plastered on every amazing tabloid that I just love reading front to damn back.”
I tip my head. “We are excruciatingly abnormal.”
“And your boyfriend has to do abnormal things to be with you,” Maximoff says. “And I saw you smiling when he answered 102 times a day.”
I did.
And Thatcher looked enamored by me when I answered, 81 times.
I breathe in more, and I rest my hands on his shoulder, my chin on my knuckles. Feeling better. “Did you ever imagine our first time in Scotland would be with your fiancé and my boyfriend and we’d be preparing for your wedding?” It bursts love into my heart just thinking this.
Maximoff tries to restrain an uncontrollable smile. “No.” He licks his lips. “Because I never thought I’d get married. If anything, I thought it’d be your wedding, and I’d be over here a forever bachelor.”
“I like this better—and I’m not hijacking your wedding,” I note. “Don’t fret.”
Media and tabloids keep speculating that Thatcher and I will marry first. Based off a complicated history where my mom and dad sort of commandeered Aunt Lily and Uncle Lo’s wedding.
Their past choices keep affecting us in strange ways.
“I’m not worried about that,” Moffy says with a weird look.
“What is it?”
“You know if you want to marry Thatcher before I walk down the aisle, I get it. It’s not like I’m planning on marrying Farrow tomorrow. It’ll be a couple years.”
My eyes bug. “I just started calling him a boyfriend, and he just moved in. I’m not ready, and I doubt he’d want to put a ring on a girl who can barely utter I love you.”
“Okay, okay,” Maximoff nods. “I just don’t want to be the reason you’re holding back.”
I give him a weird look now. “Would you really want Thatcher to be the man I’m with forever?” Thatcher has been Farrow’s least favorite person, and Maximoff hasn’t been too fond of him in the past either.
“Weirdly, yeah. He’s good to you, and he makes you happy.” He nods. “But if he hurts you, I’ll slit his throat with a hacksaw—a rusted hacksaw.”
I laugh at his amendment.
Maximoff smiles. “This is surreal—you and me in serious relationships and traveling with our men.” He shakes his head in disbelief, and I feel that same overwhelming feeling breach the surface inside me. “I’m gl
ad you’re here, Janie.” His chest rises. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
Emotion wells my eyes. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
I’m drunk.
Scottish whiskey is delightful, and I nurse my third glass. Or is this my fourth? My head floats, and the noisy pub sounds melodic to Feel-Good Drunk Jane. Seventeen bodies pack in, our group overrunning the establishment.
A glittery sequin on my sweater snags my blue tutu. I rip them apart with one hand, and the tulle tears.
Oh well. Torn skirt, missing sequin—life could be so much worse. A rumor could hit the internet that I’m fucking my cousin.
I sip my whiskey with a smile. I never thought I could even mentally joke about the incest rumor, and one year later…
I smile more, huddled around the warm fireplace with my two female cousins. The sofa and bar area are crowded with bodyguards who stay on-duty, unable to drink alcohol. But they mingle with each other.
“I really fucking love that he never put pressure on me to kiss him.” Sulli bites her lip, as though she can feel Will Rochester on them. “I was so comfortable with him last night. It was perfect.”
My little sister would’ve swooned for eternity just hearing Sulli describe her make-out session with Will. How he brought extra blankets to the living room of Mackintosh House. How they cuddled by the fire and he caressed her cheek and drew her in slowly.
I wrap an arm around her waist. “That might be one of the most romantic first kisses I’ve ever heard.”
“Uh-huh,” Luna nods, popping the tab to an energy drink. “Fan-fiction worthy.”
“Really?” Sulli grins, gripping the neck of a beer. She hasn’t loved the taste, but she’s still been timid to sip mixed drinks after passing out so quickly. Sulli feels comfortable enough here, surrounded by family and SFO, to drink though. “I bet your first kisses were fucking rad.”
Luna bobs her head to the top-hits channel that plays throughout the pub and smiles into her sip of energy drink. “He made me a sandwich afterwards.”
“Is that a euphemism?” I wonder.
“Nope. A real peanut butter and banana sandwich. Eliot, Tom and I crashed some senior’s party, and I hung out in the kitchen with this guy named Mike…or maybe it was Rogan.” She shrugs, unconcerned. “Never saw him again.”
“You’re a badass.” Sulli fist-bumps Luna, then asks me, “What was your first kiss like—oh fuck…” She reddens in embarrassment, hand to her mouth. “I forgot. I’m so fucking sorry.”
My first kiss was with Wesley Rochester, Will’s younger brother. “It was a kindergarten kiss. It meant very little.” I squeeze her in another side-hug before letting go, and I accidentally slosh whiskey out of my glass.
Merde.
The Four Drunk Stages of Jane Eleanor Cobalt are as follows:
Feel-Good Drunk Jane
Flirty Drunk Jane
Sloppy Drunk Jane
Black-Out (SOS) Jane
My sloppy-drunk-self can’t come out. I haven’t reached Flirty Drunk Jane yet. Skipping from one to three is like sipping the milk froth of a cappuccino and dumping out the coffee.
The actual coffee is undoubtedly the best part.
“Is it weird that we both kissed brothers?” Sulli asks me.
I’m about to mention how Uncle Loren and Uncle Ryke are brothers and their wives are sisters, but Luna already sing-songs to Sulli, “Our moms married brothers.”
“Fuck, duh.” Sulli shakes her head and swallows more beer.
I pet her long brown hair. “She’s lovesick; she’s not thinking straight.”
“She’s infected.” Luna sticks out her tongue, neon-green piercing in the center. “Should we amputate?”
Sulli elbows us with a giddy smile. “I seriously think I could lose my virginity to him.”
My eyes brighten. “In Scotland.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, unable to stop smiling. “Maybe. I’m comfortable with him.” Her smile gradually fades at another thought.
“Uh-oh,” Luna says. “She’s losing the love vibe.”
I sip my whiskey, my lips down-turning too. I wonder if it’s possible to make yourself fall out of love with someone, as a precautionary measure. Like a button you can press to evacuate in case love goes too far, and I find myself sweeping the pub for him.
Tony, O’Malley, and Will have staked claim to the bar, but I easily spot my towering boyfriend. He stands near the sofa where SFO has congregated.
His eyes are already on me.
My body floods, and I lift my whiskey to him, a polite gesture. One that I could make to Banks without any romantic inclination.
Thatcher raises his glass of water back in response.
My stomach flutters.
“I guess it puts me on edge that all the guys don’t like Will,” Sulli confesses. “I can’t tell if they’re just being overprotective or if they know something about him that I don’t.”
“If Beckett or Moffy knew something bad about Will, they’d tell you,” I say to Sulli. “Just trust your judgment. You have good intuition.” She’s not naïve, and she’s cautious when confronted with real life dangers.
She nods. “You’re the best, Jane.” Sulli hugs me, and we bring in Luna for a three-way hug.
We all sway, laughing, and I try not to spill my drink on my cousins. When we part, Moffy slips into our huddle with a mug of tea. He doesn’t ask for a recap, but we all quickly provide one.
“Just be careful,” Maximoff tells her.
“You know I will be,” Sulli nods into a smile. “He’s sexy, right?”
Maximoff glances over at the bar and checks out Will, who resembles a preppy Ken Doll. “Yeah, he’s pretty hot.”
“Who’s hot?” Farrow slides in, very casual and cool as he chews gum. He gives Moffy a once-over.
“Me,” Maximoff quips, stretching his arm across Farrow’s shoulders.
Farrow rolls his eyes. “You’re definitely cocky.” He has trouble taking his gaze off his fiancé. “I didn’t come over here for you, smartass.”
“But you’re staying here for me,” Maximoff rebuts.
Luna looks between them with such happiness.
Farrow sucks in a breath. “Technically, you can’t read the future to know if I’m staying.” And then he looks to me. “I don’t love being the errand boy, but Omega wants me to tell you to stop giving your boyfriend ‘googly eyes’.” He uses air-quotes.
I bristle. “I haven’t been giving him googly anything. He’s been giving me some sort of eyes.” I sip my whiskey, burning up from the alcohol and other carnal things. I brave a glance at Thatcher.
He’s now seated on the sofa with quiet confidence that hooks me tenfold. I could so easily walk over to him.
Kiss him.
Straddle him.
“Janie.” Moffy draws my attention back.
Farrow raises his brows at me. “You were saying?”
“Merde,” I curse. I’m making googly eyes.
“Is Flirty Drunk Jane here?” Moffy asks me.
“Almost,” I warn and pinch my fingers together.
He laughs, but concern also rests behind his forest-green eyes. He’s been watching over my brothers tonight since I’ve been drinking, and I can’t thank him enough for keeping an eye on Charlie and Beckett.
I notice how Sulli and Luna share a growing smile, and Sulli motions to Farrow. “Hey, is there a way to ask Tony to GTFO so he won’t follow Jane and Thatcher outside?”
Luna rocks on her feet. “So she can make out with her boyfriend.”
I love them.
Farrow pops a bubblegum bubble in his mouth. “You’re asking the wrong bodyguard. You need to talk to the one in charge.”
Sulli whips around. “Kits, can you come here for a sec?”
Akara stands off the sofa and pushes back his black hair as he nears his client.
Moffy takes his arm off Farrow and dances with his sister. Luna and Maximoff do the running man
move together, and then he twirls her in a circle.
I sway to the beat, and I notice how Farrow looks absolutely and without a shadow of a doubt in love with his future husband. I’ve been a spectator to their love for so long, and now that mine is in reach, I’m scared to embrace every little part until it consumes me.
Being a voyeur to love is easier than being in love, I think.
We all look up as multi-colored Christmas lights switch on, brightening the pub in an array of colors. My head keeps whirling, and whiskey scalds my esophagus, a good sting.
“I can try to shift Tony to Moffy’s detail, but I can’t promise he’ll respond, Sul,” Akara tells her. “Jane is his client. He’s allowed to protect her first.”
“Fuck,” Sulli curses in a sigh. “Thanks anyway.” She slugs his shoulder.
He just nods.
Strange. I squint at their interaction and taste more whiskey. Usually Akara would fling a strand of hair in her face or slug her back just as playfully.
Sullivan puts two fingers to her lips. “What’s wrong?”
Farrow, Moffy, and Luna watch too.
“I’m just doing my job.” Akara fixes his earpiece. “Is that it?”
Her squared jaw tenses. “Yeah…”
Akara nods, then he returns to the couch beside Quinn.
“What the fuck was that?” Sulli whispers to me, but she’s already distracted. Will is waving her over to the bar, and a smile spreads across her face.
“Go get him, tiger.” I cheer her on.
Sulli strides over to her boyfriend, and I cement to this very spot. Hardly budging. Smart, Jane. You know if you go great and terrible distances, you will face-plant.
Different people approach me at different intervals.
“Do you have dirt on Will?” I ask outright to Charlie and Beckett, Moffy and Farrow also in our new fireside chat. Luna dances by herself in the corner of the pub.
“No.” Charlie tugs at his hair, possibly irritated that I’m even asking the important questions that he believes are obvious.
Feel-Good Drunk Jane doesn’t care if they’re obvious or not.
Beckett lights a cigarette between his lips. “Are we just going to forget his younger brother is a dick?”
Sinful Like Us (Like Us Series: Billionaires & Bodyguards Book 5) Page 19