by Nikki Ash
“Emmett, push me,” my son yells as he tries to get on the swing.
“Hey, little man, what’s the magic word?”
“Pleeeease,” he sings.
“Good job.” Picking him up, I set him on the swing. “Hold on tightly to the chains,” I instruct as I give him a little push.
“Faster, please,” he calls out. I add a little more force to the next push. “I’m like a birdie, Emmett.”
“Hold on tight,” Juliet calls out.
“He’s fine, aren’t you?” I ask.
“Mommy, I’m flying like a birdie. Watch me.”
She smiles. “I’m watching, sweetie. Don’t worry.”
Every moment the three of us spend together feels so natural. We’re our own little family unit.
“What are you thinking about?” Juliet asks.
“How great my life is.” I smile. “I love being with you guys. It feels so right in every way.”
“I’ve noticed it too,” she replies. “You fit with us like a piece we were missing and didn’t realize.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” My chest squeezes with emotion.
“I thought it was when I said I loved you,” she throws back.
“Nope. You said you loved me, meaning past tense,” I explain.
“Tomato—tomahto,” she retorts.
“You say that, but don’t you want to hear how much you both mean to me? How I can’t believe how empty my life was before last week? How when I’m not with you both, I want to be?”
“Oh, Emmett, you mean just as much to us. When you’re not with us, Emmett asks for you.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” I say, locking our gazes. “How I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Really?” she questions, hope lighting her sea-colored eyes.
“Yes.”
“Hey, push me, please,” Emmett yells, showering us with a dose of reality, and we laugh.
“Emmett, sweetie, come here.” Juliet pats the couch cushion between us. “We need to talk to you about something important.” He scrambles over and I place him on the couch and give Juliet a nod of encouragement. “You know how I’ve always told you your daddy loves you very much and someday you’d get to meet him?”
Emmett nods. “You said he was away at school.”
“He was, but now he’s home.”
“Can I meet him?” Emmett cuts in.
I step in. “You already have. I’m your daddy, Emmett, and I’m so happy you’re my son.”
Emmett’s eyes open wider as the meaning of my words sinks in. “You’re my daddy?”
I grin and ruffle his hair. “I am.”
He turns to Juliet. “He’s my daddy?”
She smiles. “He is. I promise.” He squeals and jumps in my lap, throwing his arms around my neck. “Daddy,” he whispers, tightening his arms around my neck. “I’m glad you’re my Daddy.”
“I am too, son. I am too.”
Emmett remains in my arms and falls asleep against my chest. “Stay here. I’ll put him to bed and be right back.” Rising, I carry him to his room and tuck him into bed. Pausing at his bedside, I study every feature on his face and marvel for the millionth time that Juliet and I made him. How did we create someone so curious and precious? If I didn’t believe in miracles before, I do now.
When I return to the living room, I find Juliet pouring wine into two glasses. Sinking down next to her, I take the offered drink from her. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“No. But I might be trying to get me drunk,” she replies.
“Why do you need wine tonight? What’s going on?” Immediately, my mind goes to the worst possible scenario. I assume she’s about to tell me we made a mistake by sharing that I’m Emmett’s father.
“It’s been a crazy week or so, and I felt like some wine.”
“That’s all?” I question.
“No. There’s more, but I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?” I ask.
“To tell you I love you,” she blurts out.
“Why aren’t you ready?” I question.
“I’m scared you’ll change your mind about being with us so much. Or decide you can’t handle being a father so young.”
“Juliet, that’s pretty insulting to me and you. Basically, you’re saying I’m too immature to know what I want.”
“That’s not how I intended it to sound.”
Placing my untouched wine down, I sink my fingers into her long tresses and stare down into her eyes. “I loved you when I was eighteen and I love you at twenty-two. I’ll still love you at twenty-six and thirty too. Do you need me to continue?”
“Can you say it again, please?”
“I love you, Juliet.”
“I never thought I’d hear you say those words. I love you so much, Emmett.”
Leaning forward, I connect our lips. Starting out slow and tender, it soon shifts to hot and passionate. The long-awaited reunion was worth the time we spent apart. And we’ll never be parted again.
Calm the Storm by Kelsey Clayton
Chapter One
Emery
Walking through the front door of my best friend's house, Ashlyn grabs a drink, and I collapse onto one of the barstools at the island. She passes me a bottle of water with the special judgmental look she seems to reserve just for me.
“Em, you cannot wait until the last minute to pack,” she deadpans. “I told you it's a bad idea.”
I cock a single brow at her. “You mean if I go upstairs, your entire room will be packed already?”
Her lips quirk into a smirk that answers my question. Exactly. After graduating high school and spending the summer being legal adults, Ashlyn and I are finally going to college. We always said we were going to go to the same university and share a dorm, and that's exactly what we're doing. There's just one problem: we haven't packed.
Like at all.
And we leave in two days.
Granted, the university is only two hours away, so forgetting something isn't the complete end of the world, but we should probably have at least the basics for move-in. Otherwise, we're going to be sleeping on bare mattresses and living out of a suitcase.
“It's not my fault,” she argues. “Life has been...distracting.”
“Sleeping with your neighbor is not life, Ash.”
A deep, familiar laughter echoes through the room, and I whip my head around to see Ashlyn’s older brother Harland standing in the doorway. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks like something out of my wildest punk-rock fantasies. The band T-shirt he’s wearing suits the bad-ass rocker look he has going. I could spend all day just staring at him.
“Mike?” he barks. “You’ve seriously been banging that troll?”
Ashlyn narrows her eyes at me, and I mouth an apology as Harland comes closer. He puts his hand on the top of her head and messes up her hair, treating her the same way he always has and the same way she’s always hated—like she’s a child.
“Aw, sis,” he sighs dramatically. “I thought you had better taste than that.”
“Fuck off, H.” Ash elbows him in the side to get him away from her, but he dodges it.
Leaning his arms on the island across from me, his gaze locks with mine, and I nearly forget how to breathe. Harland Storm has been the object of my affection for as long as I can remember. He’s three years older than us, the singer in his band Sound the Sirens, and drop-dead fucking gorgeous. Seriously, I’ve spent years around him and still can’t seem to contain myself in his presence. Especially when he’s looking at me like that.
“And what about you, Emery?” My name is like honey as it drips from his lips. “Who did you spend the summer fucking?”
I all but choke on my words as Ashlyn saves me from having to answer him.
“Don’t be such a pervert,” she snaps. “Just because Lindsey dumped your ass doesn’t mean you can live vicariously through everyone else’s sex life.
”
Wait, what?
Harland and Lindsey have been together since his freshman year of high school. It goes without saying that I was devastated when they started dating. In my eleven-year-old brain, we were going to grow up, fall in love, and get married. No one could tell me otherwise. So how dare he go out and find a girlfriend that wasn’t me? But I was a kid, and the big, bad high schooler wanted nothing to do with little old me.
To hear they broke up is a shock to my system, but it doesn’t look like I’m the only one. Even Harland winces at Ash’s words. His eyes meet mine, and for a second, I think I see a hint of a smile forming, but as soon as his phone rings, he’s snapped out of it.
“What’s up?” he answers. “Are you fucking serious? Shit. I’ll be right there!”
He hangs up the phone and yanks open the fridge to grab a drink before heading for the door. Ashlyn looks over at the full sink and rolls her eyes.
“Didn’t mom tell you to do the dishes, lowlife?” she asks exasperatedly.
“I’ll do them later!” he calls back. “This lowlife has a record label that wants to meet with Sound the Sirens.”
Our jaws drop. They’ve been trying to get a record deal for years, and have had rotten luck. It’s a shame, because their band is incredible. I’ve fallen asleep to the sound of the EP they recorded last summer more often than I’m willing to admit.
Just when we think he’s gone, he pokes his head back in the room. “By the way, tell Mike that if I see him, I’m going to put his dick through a meat grinder for touching my baby sister.” He looks over at me, and the smile on his face threatens to knock my world off its axis. “Bye, Em.”
I’m not okay.
I repeat, I’m not okay.
I toss and turn in Ash’s bed, feeling like I just can’t get comfortable. You would think after packing three-quarters of her room I’d be exhausted, but I’m not. My brain just won’t shut off, and my mouth is the tacky kind of dry that makes it hard to focus on anything else.
Ash is sound asleep next to me. Her mouth is open, and I can’t help but laugh at the tiny spot of drool that’s pooling on her pillow.
I stay as quiet as possible as I slip out of bed and tiptoe from the room. I just need something to drink, and then maybe I’ll finally be able to get some sleep. However, as I get into the kitchen, a dark shadow sitting out by the pool catches my eye.
Harland.
As if I have absolutely no control over my body, I bypass the fridge and head straight for the door. The warm summer air encases me as I make my way toward him, and it seems to settle my nerves a little. He stares out at the night sky, not even looking my way as I sit down on the lounge chair next to his.
“I’m surprised you’re up,” he says. “Don’t babies normally go to sleep at eight?”
I roll my eyes but can sense the playfulness in his tone. “You just love treating us like toddlers. I’m not a little girl anymore, Harland.”
For the first time since I came out here, his head turns toward me and his gaze skims over my body. “Trust me, I know.”
What the hell does that mean? The fact that I’m out here at all is almost more than I can handle, so instead of attempting to unwrap that statement, I move into safer territory.
“How’d the meeting go?” Judging by the way he’s acting right now, I’m guessing not well.
He smiles and lets out a puff of air as he looks down at his lap. “We sign papers next week.”
“Holy shit, H! That’s amazing!”
“Thanks.”
It’s huge news. News that will most likely change his life. But still, he doesn’t look as happy as I thought he would be. I dip my head down to look up at his face.
“So why the frown?” I ask carefully.
He looks at me like he can see straight through to my soul. I’d kill for the ability to read his mind… hear the thoughts going through that head of his. Find out if his body tingles like mine just from knowing that he and I are alone together.
Who am I kidding? Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen.
“H?” My voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.
He looks away from me and shakes his head. “I guess I just thought things would be different.”
It hits me like a ton of bricks, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little. “Shit, right. The breakup.”
“No, that’s not—”
“Of course, you’re upset about Lindsey. You two were together for so long. I’m such an idiot.”
“I’m—” He tries to talk but I cut him off again, on a nervous prattle roll.
“Shit. Now I said her name and probably made it worse. I’m really insensitive.” I run my fingers through my hair. “Maybe I should just go to bed before I make things worse for you.”
Reaching down, he grabs his beer off the ground and hands it to me. “Drink this.”
My brows furrow. “What? Why?”
“Because you need to chill the fuck out,” he says with a chuckle.
I sigh heavily and take a sip, trying not to relish in the fact that my lips are now exactly where his were only moments ago. The cold liquid covers my tongue and slides down my throat, cooling every inch of me. After drinking a little more, I hand it back to him.
“Thanks.”
The corner of his mouth raises as he takes his own sip, and my eyes are glued to the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Everything about this guy screams manly: The way he speaks. The way he carries himself. The way confidence radiates from him. It’s intoxicating.
He starts picking at the calluses on his fingers from years of playing guitar—a nervous habit he’s had for years. “I’m not upset about Lindsey.”
My breath hitches at his confession. “Y-you’re not?”
“No,” he answers, shaking his head. “I mean, it sucked when it happened, but I’m not upset now.” His gaze turns to me, and his pupils are blown. I can barely see the light green that always seems to suck me in. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and I'm fascinated, like a moth around a lightbulb. “How could I be when I'm sitting here with you?”
At first, I think I heard him wrong. He couldn't have possibly said what I just thought I heard. But then he keeps his sights locked on my lips, and his hand comes up to gently hold my chin in place, and I'm a fucking goner. He slowly starts to lean in.
“Harland,” I whisper.
His lips ghost across mine. “Shh. I just...”
Whatever he was about to say is gone the moment our mouths meet in a heated kiss. His hand wraps around the back of my neck and pulls me closer as our tongues dance together. It's feverish, and rushed, and everything I’ve imagined over the years.
“Fuck, Em,” he groans.
Before I know it, he's laying me down on the lounge chair and climbing on top of me. I grip at his T-shirt and mentally will it to vanish as he starts moving down to kiss my neck. Every inch of my body is on fucking fire with his touch, leaving a lingering burn.
“H, please.”
He chuckles against my skin. “Relax, baby. I've got you.”
His hand slides down slowly until it reaches the waistband of my shorts. My breath stutters for a second, but the second he slips his fingers underneath my panties, all I can feel is overwhelming need. He lightly rubs over my clit, and my hips immediately arch into his touch.
All those years of guitar lessons clearly made him skilled in more than just instruments, because the magic he's working on me nearly makes me black out. Don't get me wrong—I've done enough to myself to be ashamed of, especially with thoughts of him running through my head. But having his hands on me, and his mouth sucking on the side of my neck, nothing compares.
Feeling daring, I reach down and grab his hard cock through his sweatpants. He gasps for a second and then lets out a moan I wish I could set as my fucking ringtone. It's possessive. Raw. Needy.
A single finger slips inside of me as his lips meet mine again, and I immedia
tely clench around him.
“You're so tight,” he murmurs in my mouth. “And so fucking wet for me.”
Instead of answering, I grab the bottom of his shirt and rip it over his head. Tossing it onto the ground, he looks at me with a glint in his eyes that I've never seen before.
“Are you sure?” The question doesn't even sound like it's coming from him—like he doesn't want to ask it, and fears my answer, but knows he needs to.
I swallow harshly and nod. “Yes.”
Harland bites his lip as he pushes my shirt up, exposing my breasts. His eyes rake over my body as his fingertips glide down my stomach. He lightly grips my shorts and panties together and pulls them down my legs, his slow and careful movements making me squirm.
“You're gorgeous,” he whispers.
“I am?”
His gaze meets mine, and he smirks. “As if you didn't know.”
I mean, I've always known guys in school thought I was pretty. They made it obvious with their unskilled efforts at flirting. But I never thought I was pretty enough for the one I wanted. The one who's staring down at me like I'm good enough to eat. The one I've dreamed of for as long as I can remember.
He rids himself of his sweatpants, and his hard cock springs free. I damn near choke on air the second I see how big he really is.
For my seventeenth birthday, Ashlyn thought she was hilarious when she gifted me a dildo that is probably double the size of anything a virgin should be using. I mean, it was porn star level shit, and it's still in my closet—untouched and definitely unused.
But Harland—fuck. I think he might be bigger.
He pulls a condom out of his wallet and tosses the leather pouch onto the ground with his clothes. Looking down at me, he takes himself into his hand and slides the rubber on before jerking himself slowly and leaning down over me. He runs the head over my pussy, and I throw my head back as I try to keep in sounds that would most likely wake up the whole damn house.
“Look at me,” he demands, and I have no chance of ever denying him, so I do. “I want to see you as I push inside.”