I laugh because it’s kinda true. How ironic that his parents expected that when Jack went out of his way to prevent them from knowing our marriage happened. At least when he thought it had.
Jack scowls. “I don’t take marriage lightly.”
“Good,” his dad says. “Marriage is serious business.” He gazes at his wife, who gazes back warmly. For them it was extra serious. His dad gave up a kingdom to marry her. The love between them is palpable. My own parents aren’t nearly so warm with each other, but that’s just them.
“Come on,” his mom says. “Let’s get ya something to eat, and then I’ll introduce ya to everyone.”
I follow her over to a long table with platters of burgers and hot dogs, along with an assortment of cold salads. Chocolate chip cookies, apple pie, and cupcakes with little American flags on top catch my eye at the far end of the table. Jack snags a cookie and takes a bite.
“What would ya like?” his mom asks, grabbing a plastic plate for me.
“I can get it,” I say.
“It’s no problem,” she says. “Burger, dog, or both?”
“Burger, please.”
Jack helps himself to both.
Another brunette woman in her fifties appears next to Mrs. Rourke. Her sister, maybe? The woman has the same color hair and shoulder-length cut, but with bangs. Her dark brown eyes gleam through round brown-framed glasses. “Introduce me,” she says to Mrs. Rourke.
Mrs. Rourke smiles tightly. “This is my longtime neighbor—”
“We’re in-laws now,” the woman says proudly. “Her oldest son, Dylan, married my youngest daughter, Ariana, who’s expecting, by the way.” She points her out across the yard.
Ariana lifts a hand. I smile at her and wave.
“Yes,” Mrs. Rourke says. “This is Donna, my neighbor, friend, and in-law.”
“Friend, really?” Donna says, sounding hopeful.
Mrs. Rourke blushes and scoops some potato salad I didn’t ask for onto my plate. “Yes, of course, Donna.”
Donna thrusts her hand out to me. “I’m Mrs. Bianchi. So nice to meet ya.” She smiles encouragingly at me, seeming to be waiting for me to introduce myself.
“I’m Riley, Jack’s girlfriend.” He did call me that.
Jack shifts uneasily as the two women exchange a smile.
“How nice,” Mrs. Bianchi says. “And what do ya do, Riley? I mean for work.”
“I’m in corporate accounting.”
Mrs. Rourke and Mrs. Bianchi exchange a surprised look before turning back to me.
“A corporate woman,” Mrs. Bianchi says approvingly.
“She’s a CPA with a master’s degree,” Jack puts in. “She’s brilliant.”
I smile and duck my head, my cheeks heating. Jack kisses my cheek.
Mrs. Rourke puts a hand over her heart, smiling at Jack and then me.
Mrs. Bianchi gives Mrs. Rourke’s arm a squeeze before turning back to Jack. “You done good, Jack. Frankly, we weren’t sure where you’d land. I told your mother you’d come to your senses one day and realize one good woman is all ya need.”
“Glad you approve, Mrs. Bianchi,” Jack says with a straight face. “I can rest easy now.”
“So fresh, your sons,” Mrs. Bianchi tells Mrs. Rourke.
Mrs. Rourke smiles serenely, adds a chocolate chip cookie to my plate, and hands it to me. “I like ’em that way. Don’t ya agree, Riley?”
I glance at Jack. He’s focused on the many food options. His plate is set on the table, full of food, but he looks like he’s considering adding something.
I turn back to Mrs. Rourke and say quietly, “I don’t know about your other sons, but Jack is irresistible.”
I squeak as Jack suddenly hauls me against him, his lips meeting mine in a soft kiss. “So are you,” he says gruffly.
“Oh my gawd, Tara!” Mrs. Bianchi exclaims. “They’re in love!”
I freeze. Jack stiffens. We pull apart and grab our plates.
“Shh, you’re embarrassing them,” Mrs. Rourke says in a loud whisper. “They might never come back.”
Jack inclines his head away from them, and I follow, half embarrassed, half amused.
I glance up at him; his jaw is tight. I don’t know if he’s angry because he actually does have feelings for me and doesn’t like them discussing it, or if he’s regretting bringing me here because it’s made this thing between us seem bigger than it is. A serious Jack is very hard to read.
11
Jack
I take a ferocious bite of burger, sitting on the back steps with Riley, my mind reeling. Just because I bring a woman home for the first time doesn’t mean I’m in love with her. Ridiculous. I mean, yes, I like her. A lot. And I think about her too much when I’m not with her, and I want to be with her as much as possible, but that doesn’t mean—
I am not pussy whipped.
I’m not like Sam, who dumped his guy friends to be with Alison all the damn time.
Sure, I haven’t seen my friends, Mike and Rick, since Sam’s wedding. That doesn’t mean anything. Rick moved out of the building since he was Sam’s roommate and now Alison is moving in. So what if I didn’t stop over at Mike’s place a few blocks away? I’ve been busy. And Sam’s been away on his honeymoon, so obviously I couldn’t hang with him.
I’m not in love.
I’m in like and deep lust. I let out a breath of relief. It’s the lust that’s responsible for this craving to be near her. Of course. What guy wouldn’t be all over her perfect hourglass figure hiding in sensible modest clothes? It’s like every buttoned-up sexy librarian porno. Classic scenario. My mind goes back to earlier today when she first showed up at my place. Of course I had to touch her, and the moment I did, I couldn’t stop. She’s passionate, eager, soft and giving. And I take and take like a starving man at a feast. That’s raw animal lust right there.
I startle at my name and turn to her. “What?”
Riley gives me a strange look. “I asked if that was the neighbor your mom’s had a feud with for decades because of your prank? She seemed so touched that your mom said they’re friends.”
I can’t help my smile. Who knew a five-year-old hiding a serving spoon at a potluck would have such far-reaching effects? I can’t wait for the gotcha moment when the Bianchis finally clean out their basement storage area and find it. I never would’ve guessed my mom would consider Mrs. Bianchi a thief over it and refuse to speak to her for years. It’s a frigging spoon! “Yeah, that’s the one. Dylan and Ariana got married and now the moms are thick as thieves.”
We both look over to the women standing in the corner of the yard by the rose trellis, sipping glasses of white wine. My mom seems to be confiding something to a smiling Mrs. Bianchi.
“Guess you have to be pretty careful with the far-reaching consequences of a prank,” Riley says quietly.
“Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing.”
That spoon thing went too far, just like our fake Vegas wedding turned into hanging together for extended periods of time, texting, going out. It snowballed into a relationship. I swallow hard, but don’t break out into a sweat. I’m starting to get comfortable with the idea of something serious. Wait. What does she mean by far-reaching consequences? Something bad between us? Do we need to talk about the relationship?
I stare at the ground, lost in thought. I’m not even sure how I got here. One moment I’m playing along at a temporary marriage and the next I’m bringing her home to meet my parents. What if she dumps me? That could hurt. I’ve seen other guys get depressed over women, moping around, stuffing themselves with too much beer and potato chips. I am not falling apart over a woman!
“Hey, I’m Brendan.”
I look up just as my brother introduces himself to Riley, shaking her hand and giving her his most charming smile. The rest of my brothers gather around—Dylan, Sean, Connor, and Garrett. They all have dark brown hair, various levels of scruff, blue eyes, except for the youngest, Beast (Garrett), who has o
ur dad’s aquamarine eyes. They introduce themselves to Riley, one by one, smiling widely. Crap.
Sean shakes his head, giving me a smug look. “So-o-o, Jackie-boy,” he drawls. “I heard you’re in love for the very first time.”
My brothers crack up, even Dylan, the jerk. He’s the one always giving me big-brother pep talks about how it’s worth it to get serious with a woman.
Riley’s cheeks are bright red as she turns to me, her eyes wide and beseeching. They’re embarrassing her, and she doesn’t know how to handle it. I don’t think her big brother ever gave her shit the way my brothers and I do with each other.
I flip them the bird, and they laugh even harder. I might as well be waving the white flag of surrender, admitting I’m in love.
Oh shit, I’m in love.
I swallow hard and stand, so they’re not towering over me on the back step. “Enough. Dylan, you’re always on me about how great it is to have a relationship. Sean, you’re the king of serial monogamy. And guess what? The rest of you don’t know what you’re missing. So, yeah, I’m in a relationship, and I expect you to treat the one and only woman I’ve ever brought home with respect.”
They stare at me, jaws dropped.
“Damn,” someone says. Probably Brendan. He and I give each other the most shit, both of us on the mischievous side.
“Congratulations,” Beast says sincerely. He’s got a secret sensitive side. “Real happy for ya both.” He turns to Riley. “Welcome, I hope we didn’t embarrass ya too much.”
She smiles. “Thank you, Garrett, for that warm welcome.”
He flashes a smile and checks in with me. He’s my youngest brother, so he looks up to me. I jerk my chin at him.
“Yeah, welcome,” my brothers grumble in a slow chorus of agreement.
Dylan asks Riley a few polite questions before wandering off. My brothers follow.
I take a seat next to her, attempting cool after I basically just admitted I’m into her big time. And I’m not even sure if it’s mutual.
She turns to me, fanning herself with one hand. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever met so many gorgeous men up close at one time.”
A spike of jealousy spears through me. Here I am, thinking all these deep thoughts and feelings about her while she’s lusting for my brothers. “Seriously?”
She grabs me by the collar and pulls me in for a kiss. “But you’re the king of them all.”
The king. I love that. I love her. I smile against her lips.
I waited until I was thirty to settle down because I never met anyone who made me want to settle down. Riley does. Now I just have to figure out how to be serious boyfriend material for real because I’m thinking Riley could be the best thing to ever happen to me. And I want her to feel the same way about me.
Riley
That night I step out of Jack’s bathroom in my pajamas—pink T-shirt, matching baggy sleep shorts. I have a little red silk slip that’s sexier, but we’ve already had sex twice today, so I figure it’s better to be comfortable for sleeping.
“What’re ya wearing?” he growls from where he’s lounging in bed, the covers up to his waist.
Sparks fire over my skin. I know that voice. Somehow I turned him on without even trying. “My pajamas.”
I cross to the bed, and he yanks the shorts down, along with my sensible panties, before I can even get into bed. My breath hitches, my heart kicking up speed. I’m not used to an aggressive lover. It’s exciting. I crawl over him, and he flips me onto my back, holding himself over me.
That’s when I realize he’s naked.
“Ready for me, huh?” I ask in a breathy voice.
“Always.” His mouth crashes over mine, kissing me roughly. I wrap my arms around him, expecting a hard thrust as he settles between my legs. Suddenly he breaks the kiss, pulls me upright, and takes my shirt off, tossing it across the room. “You don’t need clothes in bed. Ever.”
“What if I get cold?”
His blue eyes gleam. “Then you have to stick close to me.” He lowers me back to the mattress and kisses me deeply before working his way down my body all the way to my toes. He’s amazing, electrifying me everywhere he touches and kisses and tastes. I’m lit up inside as he works his way back up my leg, his big hands pushing my legs apart before he finally lands on pleasure central. I suck in air as a jolt goes through me. He lingers, and I rock my hips mindlessly, lost in pleasure. He’s such a generous lover, so—oh! He just flipped me over. So strong, so commanding.
His arm bands around my waist, lifting me. “Brace yourself on your arms,” he growls.
I get my arms under me, hear the rustle of the condom, and then he’s back, thrusting deep. I gasp. I can’t help it. He’s thick, his thrusts powerful.
He covers me, his voice gravelly. “Know what I like about this position?” His hand caresses my breast, rolling my nipple between his calloused fingers.
I moan softly. “Touching me.”
“Yeah.” He thrusts deep again. “And making you tremble under me.”
“Jack,” I say in a breathy voice. “I don’t tremble.”
“Let’s see what we can do about that.” His hand slides between my legs, circling gently. The pleasure builds, my insides coiling tight, my breath coming in short pants. “Slow, baby.”
A whimper escapes. His lips press on the side of my neck, and I feel them curve against my hot skin. His teeth scrape against me, and my breath shudders out. He rocks his hips into me in slow thrusts as his fingers stroke and circle, driving me to the edge at a torturously slow pace.
My head drops, and he squeezes the nape of my neck, which makes me loose and languid.
He murmurs soft praise, thrusting to his slow deep rhythm, stroking me lazily. I float in timeless pleasure, surrounded by his heat, his scent, his touch. The intensity escalates before I realize it, and I’m suddenly on the edge of release. Close, so close, my body tightening around him.
“Jack,” I gasp out.
“So good,” he says hoarsely. “Not yet.”
I don’t know if he’s telling himself not yet or me, but I need it. I rock back into him, and he groans. He thrusts hard and stills, stroking just the way I need.
Yes!
Yes!
“Hang on,” he growls, slowing it down again.
No-o-o!
I press my hips back into him, needing more, desperate for more. He bites my neck, sending a jolt through me, and then rocks into me, stroking me in his slow lazy rhythm. I tremble and then I explode with a harsh cry.
“Yesss,” he hisses, grabbing my hips and thrusting hard and fast and deep.
Oh God. I’m right there again, hurtling toward release. His breath is harsh in my ear, my heart thundering, my body trembling at the shocking intensity. The room dims and then I cry out, my body shuddering in release as he pumps rapidly into me, finally letting go with a long, low groan.
My arms collapse under me, my cheek pressing into the mattress. Jack’s iron grip on my hips is the only thing preventing total collapse.
His fingers trail down my spine, making me shiver. He pulses inside me, and I moan softly. Finally, he pulls out, and I collapse.
The room is silent except for the sound of us catching our breath. He’s next to me now. I can’t move. Can’t speak. I want to hug him, thank him for my incredible orgasms, but I can’t seem to manage it. So-o-o good.
He strokes my hair out of my face. “Still alive?”
“No.”
He chuckles and rolls me to my side, pulling me close. I sigh, content and sleepy. There’s something so nice about a man who can maneuver you when you’re too tired to move. None of my boyfriends were ever strong enough to carry me before. I stroke the swell of his bicep lazily, silently praising it for its beauty and strength. Long minutes pass in a warm glow.
Just as I’m mustering up the energy to turn off the light on the nightstand, I hear a dog barking so loudly it’s almost like he’s in the room with us.
“Arf!
Arf! Arf!”
Jack tenses. “No-o-o. The upstairs neighbors are back from vacation, and their yappy dog is back to his nighttime barking.”
“Arf! Arf! Arf!” The bark gets higher in pitch and more urgent.
“I think it’s a puppy,” I tell him.
“Who cares? I just want it to shut up. Every night just when I’m about to fall asleep, he barks, and then every hour after that like clockwork.”
“Have you tried talking to your neighbors?”
“And say what? Muzzle your dog, I can’t sleep.”
I prop up on an elbow. “Did you ever consider they don’t like the night barking either?”
“Then they shouldn’t have gotten a yappy dog.”
I climb out of bed, gathering my pajamas from around the room and pulling them on.
“Where’re you going?”
“To see if I can help.” I slip on my ballet flats and grab a white cardigan I hung in his closet earlier. “We had the same problem with our puppy when I was a kid. Drove us bonkers.”
“Hold up. I’ll go with you.” He rolls out of bed and pulls on a T-shirt and jeans, not bothering with socks or shoes.
A few minutes later, I knock on the door. A middle-aged man in navy silk pajamas answers. Jack takes over. “Hi, I’m Jack. Your downstairs neighbor.”
“Yes, I’ve seen you around. I’m John.”
“Who is it?” a young blonde woman asks, holding the dog, who barks even more incessantly.
“Aww, adorable puppy,” I say warmly. “What’s its name?”
“Who are you?” the woman asks.
“I’m Riley, Jack’s girlfriend. I had a puppy just like this with a similar nighttime barking issue. Mind if I come in to tell you what worked for us?”
The couple exchange a look, the puppy barks even whinier, and they relent, letting us in.
I hold out my arms for the puppy and make a big fuss over him. He gets quiet. Turns out he’s a boy named Roscoe. Pretty tough name for a little white scrap of a dog. It’s part terrier and part something else, maybe Chihuahua, they’re not sure. They got him at the animal shelter.
Rogue Rascal (The Rourkes, Book 9) Page 13