Halton: Vested Interest #6

by Melanie Moreland

  I had slept with her all night, not waking once. It was the longest I had slept in months, maybe years. I felt rested, rejuvenated. I felt like a million bucks.

  Holy fuck.

  Fee’s eyes flew open, and I realized I had spoken out loud and woken her up. She met my gaze, the vivid green shocked.

  “What-what are you doing?”

  “Ah—sleeping?”

  “Why are you in my bed?”

  “I’m not. Neither of us is in a bed. We fell asleep on the sofa.”

  “Together?” she squeaked. “All night?”

  “All night.” I stretched, my body feeling the effects of the too-soft sofa. Unfortunately, by doing so, I tugged her closer and she felt exactly how awake I was. All of me.

  She scrambled up, pushing away. Her hair was a mess, no doubt from my fingers being buried in it all night. There were creases on her face from my sweater, and she looked panicked. I held out my hands.

  “Relax, Fee. Nothing happened. We fell asleep.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

  I pulled myself up into a sitting position. “Understand what? There’s nothing to be upset about. It was totally innocent.”

  Mostly. The cock pressing against the zipper of my pants had another word for it.

  “I never sleep through the night,” she whispered, meeting my eyes. “Not for years. I’m usually up, pacing a lot—or tossing and turning.”

  Once again, I had only two words to say.

  Holy fuck.

  Halton

  After my last expletive, Fee slipped off the sofa and hurried down the hall to the guestroom. A few moments later, I heard the bathroom door shut and the shower come on. I headed the opposite direction to my room and the large en suite, and turned on the shower, letting it warm up before stepping in. The heat felt good on my shoulders. I was stiff from the odd position I had slept in, but my mind was alert and my head clear. The hot water would help ease the stiffness in my muscles.

  I ran my hand down my torso, wrapping it around my cock. I bit my lip to hold in my groan as I stroked myself. Images swam through my head, and I stopped fighting them.

  Fee laughing. Teasing me. The way she looked this morning with her hair disheveled and her eyes wide. How she felt nestled against me. I leaned on my forearm, my hand moving faster as my imagination went into overdrive. Fee under me, moaning my name. Her lips wrapped around my cock. Her pussy milking me as I thrust into her. I came hard, my release spraying long ropes over the gray tile. My head fell forward, resting on my arm as I caught my breath. I reached for the soap, absently going through the motions as my thoughts careened through my head.

  Why had I slept? Because I was so exhausted, my body had finally given in? Or did it have something to do with Fee? Was that possible? I thought of her confession. I had never met someone who had the same problem sleeping as I did. Although, I had to admit, I rarely spoke to anyone about my lack of sleep. Fee suffered from it as well. But together, we had slept. I needed to know more. I had to talk to her.

  I shut off the shower, determined, one other question echoing in my head.

  Why was Fee so firmly entrenched in all my thoughts?

  I narrowed my eyes, studying Fee seated next to me at the island. She had coffee ready when I came into the kitchen and was calmly reading on her tablet. A bagel waited for me, and after mumbling a thank you, I sat down and ate it, sipping at my coffee.

  She looked calm, the pale shadows under her eyes decreased. I had been shocked to see the constant look of exhaustion on my face had lessened when I looked in the mirror this morning. One good night’s sleep had erased a lot of the deep circles.

  I cleared my throat. “I’ve never slept with a woman.”

  She glanced up, her eyes dancing. She closed her tablet and lifted her coffee cup. “I think we both know that’s a lie, counselor. Care to rephrase?”

  I chuckled. “I mean that literally. I have never slept beside another person in my life.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “No, ah, overnight guests?”

  “Never.”

  “Even as a kid? No sleepovers? Camping trips sharing a tent?”

  “Never.”

  “I see.”

  “How long have you had problems sleeping?”

  She drained her cup and stood to get another one. She lifted the carafe, one eyebrow raised in a silent question, and I held out my mug, waiting as she refilled it.

  “About five years ago. I started having trouble falling asleep, then staying asleep. I would toss and turn. It drove Scott crazy, and he was very vocal about it. So, if I woke up, I would get up and go downstairs in order not to disturb him. He finally suggested I move into the guest room, saying that even my getting out of bed bothered him.”

  I held up my hand. “So you’ve been in separate rooms all this time?”

  “Yes. I tried to move back, but he insisted it was better for him—that he needed to keep his mind sharp. He teased me about nocturnal visits, but of course, they never happened.” She lifted one shoulder. “Frankly, it was easier. He brought so much anger to bed every night, I think it set me off and made me tense. He talked and cursed a lot in his sleep, and he thrashed a great deal. I was always worried about him kicking me. I could read if I couldn’t sleep, move around.”

  “Did you talk to anyone?”

  “I went to the doctor, but nothing short of drugging me to the max seemed to help. He suggested a therapist, but Scott refused. I gave up and accepted it. I would nap during the day and sleep a little at night…” Her voice trailed off and she sat down beside me again. “But last night was the first night in years I’ve had nine hours of uninterrupted sleep. I’d forgotten what it felt like to feel rested.”

  “I know. It’s awesome.” I paused. “Five years ago—so it coincided with when your marriage began to fall apart.”

  She paused, thinking, then nodded. “Yes, you’re right. We’d been having trouble before then, but things began to go downhill fast. I was never the best of sleepers, but the worse things got, the worse my sleeping became. Separate rooms was the next step. I never put those together.”

  I took a long sip, letting the intense brew wash over my taste buds.

  “What about you?” she asked. “How long have you had trouble sleeping?”

  I stiffened. “Most of my life.”

  She didn’t push. “I see. That must have been difficult.”

  I shrugged.

  For a moment, she looked at me, then spoke.

  “You know part of being friends is sharing, Halton. We just slept together. That was a pretty intimate thing.” She tilted her head. “You asked me for honesty. Now I am asking you for the same. Talk to me.”

  I scrubbed my face, knowing she wasn’t going to let this go. “My mother,” I said shortly. “When my parents separated, she took me. She wasn’t fit to be a parent. She had severe mental health issues and refused to stay on medication. I never knew what was going to happen next, and I was always on the defensive. Always bracing for the crash, the next high, or the next wave of depression. She couldn’t sleep, and she kept me awake to keep her company. When she would crash, I was so worried, I couldn’t sleep since I had to watch over her.”

  I pushed away from the island, pacing the room. “My father fought to get custody of me, but somehow, my mother always managed to pull herself together enough to win. I was a kid, and back then, no one asked the kids what they wanted. Fathers were rarely the ones wanting custody. I was torn between wanting a normal life and feeling guilty over leaving my mother. She was a master manipulator and knew exactly how to guilt me into staying. She made promises over and again—breaking them every time. She wasn’t a nice person in general, so my childhood was chaotic and horrendous. My father eventually gave up and left because he couldn’t stand watching it. He couldn’t handle the guilt and started drinking. He died way too early, leaving me alone with her.”

  “Oh, Halton.”

  “That�
��s what love does, Fee. It destroys. At least, it did for me. My parents both claimed to love me, yet I was the one who suffered the most neglect—all in the name of love. I never had a home or security. I had to fight tooth and nail to survive.”

  “Did your mother pass?”

  “No, she is still kicking. She lives out west. We keep in touch via email on occasion. When she is on her meds, the tone is civil, and on occasion, there is an apology I think she might actually mean but has come far too late. When she isn’t, I delete them, since she likes to blame my birth for the failure of her marriage and her health. Sadly, more are deleted than I read. Usually, I can tell from the first line. In all of them she asks for money. Never a visit or a phone call. Just money.” I held up my fingers in quotation marks. “I owe her that at least.”

  I stopped in front of Fee, shocked to see her eyes glazed with tears. Why was she crying?

  “She used the love of a child for her own selfish needs, Fee. She drained my father, then did the same for me. She warped what love should be until her way was all I knew. I broke free of her hold when I was sixteen, but it was too late. I was already twisted and jaded. From the moment I left her shadow, I was out for one person—myself.”

  “But you fight for children,” she insisted. “For others.”

  I frowned. “I’m not a nice person, Fee. Fighting for others is my little bit of redemption,” I confessed. “I can’t love. I can’t commit. I’m not a productive member of society, other than my law practice.”

  “You feel that is your only redemption. Fighting for others?”

  “Yes.”

  She wiped away the tears on her cheeks with an angry swipe. “You’re wrong. You don’t see yourself clearly. You only allow yourself to see the negative.”

  “Why do you insist on seeing the good?” I retorted, crowding her. Bringing up my mother, my childhood, had dragged all the feelings I kept under lock and key to the surface. Why Fee’s opinion of me mattered, I didn’t understand, but one thing I did know was that it did. It mattered a great deal to me. It felt as if my life were hanging by a thread, waiting for her words.

  “Because you can’t. I’ll be the champion for you since you’re doing it for me.”

  Her words were barely out of her mouth, and I was kissing her. I yanked her tight to my chest and gripped her wet hair in my fist as I claimed her. There was nothing gentle about the kiss, nothing sweet and loving. It was anger and passion. Frustration and confusion.

  And then, it wasn’t.

  Fee’s arms wound around my neck, holding me close. Her touch was tender as she ran her fingers through my hair. She let me control her, my tongue demanding and hard, giving to me the entire time. Gentling my touch, I caressed the back of her neck, cradling her head in my hands. I stroked her tongue with mine, earning a low moan deep in her throat. I explored her, discovering her sweetness, reveling in her taste. Moments passed of discovery, losing myself in her, until reality roared back in when my phone rang, the sound echoing off the granite. I stepped back, meeting her wide gaze, the green verdant and startled. In an unfamiliar, tender gesture, I cupped her cheek and pressed my mouth back to hers.

  “Thank you.”

  She smiled and covered my hand with hers.

  “Back at you.”

  She slipped away, and I reached for my phone, shocked at my behavior, my lack of control, and the fact that I wished the damn phone hadn’t interrupted us.

  I was more confused than ever.

  I spent the day with Fee, putting aside my confusion and, for the first time in a very long while, enjoying the free time. She insisted we stop and buy Jay a present, and his reaction to the dinosaur book she picked out was beyond enthusiastic. He sat beside her, showing her all his favorite creatures, telling her the characteristics and lifestyles. She listened to every word, asking questions and encouraging him to talk.

  She had that trait down pat. She had me admit things I had never told another person.

  I found everything she did fascinating, and it was difficult not to stare at her openly. Luckily, it was a sunny autumn day and the party was on their back deck, so my sunglasses hid my secret.

  I noticed everything about her. The way she talked. The habit she had of flicking her hair away from her face, only to repeat the action when the long wave fell back over her shoulder. She was warm and gracious with everyone she met, shaking their hand and repeating their name. Her laugh was light and feminine, and it rang out a lot while we were there. She used her hands to gesture while she spoke. She was small in stature, but she held her head high and her presence was magnetic.

  How the hell had Scott Hutchings missed all this about his wife? What the hell was he thinking, letting her go?

  I had been worried things would be uncomfortable after our kiss, but she acted as though it never happened, treating me the same as she always did. My ego would have taken a blow, except I caught her more than once staring at my mouth. I had to turn away in order for her not to see my smirk. She was equally fascinated, it would seem.

  I had a feeling our fascination was going to lead to some complications. I tried to decide how strongly I was going to fight it.

  “So, Fee… A friend, you said?” Carl joined me on the deck.

  “And a client. And right now, a temp in the office.” I chuckled. “A bit of everything.”

  “She is lovely.”

  “She’s having a rough time and is alone. I thought she would enjoy being with some people. I don’t think dealing with my cranky ass at the office all week constitutes fun.”

  “You’re not cranky around her.”

  I was at a loss for words. Something that kept happening when people brought Fee into the conversation. I recognized he was right, though. It was impossible to be cranky around her. She needed to be treated with care. She deserved that.

  “She’d tell you something different, I’m sure. I like to look after my clients. Which is why I’m here,” I stated pointedly.

  Carl clapped me on the shoulder. “Yep. Got it.” He walked away, chuckling. “This is gonna be fun.” I glared at his retreating form.

  What the hell was he talking about?

  Fee stood, taking her tablet and empty glass with her. She had been quiet all night, reading, and I had been busy with some case notes. I tracked her with my eyes, not saying anything.

  I held my breath as she paused at the edge of the living room. “Good night.”

  Disappointment flooded my system, but I nodded. “Night, Fee.”

  I heard her door shut and let my head fall back to the sofa. What did I expect? That she would ask to sleep with me again? That she’d drop her clothes and ask me to fuck her?

  Last night had been a one-off. The kiss today had been an outpouring of the emotion we both experienced because of the subject matter. That was all.

  It was better that way.

  And maybe my body would get the message. A good night’s sleep did wonders for my brain and my energy level. If I slept again tonight, perhaps I could break the cycle of insomnia once and for all.

  Except, hours later, I knew I was wrong. My bed wasn’t comfortable. I couldn’t settle. Something was off and I couldn’t decide what it was.

  A noise caught my attention, and I sat up immediately. I heard the muffled sounds of footsteps and the running of water. Pushing back the blanket, I opened my door and went to the kitchen. Fee was by the sink, sipping from a glass of water. She met my eyes in the semi-dark, her green orbs worried and dull.

  “Can’t sleep?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Me either.”

  “I was thirsty. I thought I needed a glass of water.”

  “I think I know what you need.”

  “You do?”

  I held out my hand. “Come here.”

  She set down her glass and came to me. Trusting and sweet, worrying her lip and hesitant, but she came. I pulled her from the kitchen and into my room. I lifted the blanket and indicated she should get
in.

  “I can’t…”

  “Just sleep, Fee. I need to see if it was a fluke.” I paused. “Or if you’re the difference.”

  Her voice was quiet in the dark. “What if I am?”

  I had no answer to that question. “Please.”

  She slid in and I followed. It felt natural to angle toward her and tug her into my arms. Her head fit perfectly under my chin, and her closeness filled my senses with the fragrance of flowers. My body relaxed, the muscles loosening and easing. Fee sighed, snuggling closer. I held her tighter, already feeling sleep tug at my body.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled.

  She was already out, the low clicking-purring noises starting and making me grin.

  They were the last thing I heard. Sleep beckoned and I fell.

  Tuesday morning, I was up early, refreshed and prepared for the week ahead. My energy level was high, and I was ready to come out swinging. I grabbed a cup of coffee and waited for Fee in the living room. She came in shortly, looking pretty. She had her hair swept up, and a simple dress swirled around her legs.

  “Are you sure I should drive with you? What if Scott…?”

  I shook my head, cutting off her words. “He isn’t looking here for you. Besides the windows are tinted in the Mercedes. He wouldn’t be able to see if it was you even if he were looking.”

  She picked up her purse, and I headed for the door. Her next words stopped me cold.

  “Do you think I’m a whore?”

  I spun around, shock making me gape. Fee clutched her purse to her chest, the grip so tight, her knuckles were white.