CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“A biker bar, Morgan?” Andrew’s voice is incredulous, his eyes cutting sharply to the old men wearing MC colors. “Seriously?”

“Don’t let the colors fool you. They’re harmless.”

My face beams with giddiness while I roll my eyes at his expression. I look around at the patrons I’d waved hello to when we walked in. Some of these people are long-standing icons who have been here since the restaurant opened its door so many years ago. They’re good people. Hard working people who, year after year, put up with annoying tourists who flock from all parts and settle in for the summer. “Don’t be such a snob.”

“I’m not a snob!” he retorts quickly, stepping back when a huge man barrels his way to the exit. “I’d be surprised if this place passes a health inspection or doesn’t get shut down by a rival club?”

I smirk. “I know it’s not a fancy French restaurant, but just wait until you taste the BBQ.”

Sliding his hand up to scratch the back of his head, Andrew concedes and follows me. A smile appears on my face when he reaches for my hand and tightens his fingers around mine.

“I don’t want to get lost in here,” he quips with a smile of his own.

We reach the small wooden table and sit. Searching behind the napkins, I grab the double-sided, laminated menu that hasn’t changed since the establishment’s opening in 1989.

Tapping the menu impatiently, Andrew comments about the poor service just as a waitress saunters over to the table.

“Hey, you!” the petite dirty blonde says sweetly, leaning in to give me a quick hug. “Long time no see!”

“Hi, Rach!”

“I didn’t know you were here. Coop didn’t mention it.”

I cock a curious eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate about her on again—off again relationship with my brother.

“Oh you know Coop!” she sighs, attempting to sound casual before her gaze shifts and she smiles to the handsome man sitting across from me. “And who’s this?”

“This is Andrew.”

Nodding briefly, Andrew says hello then adds, “How’s it going?”

Rachel’s round, pale cheeks redden and her eyes twinkle with delight.

It’s not that I don’t think Andrew is gorgeous, but since I’ve gotten to know the man behind the beautiful face, the strong chest, broad back and the insanely muscular arms, I’ve become immune to his looks. Kind of.

Holding the notepad up to shield her mouth, Rachel points in Andrew’s direction and whispers, “He’s hot.”

I tuck my hair behind my ear and look down, taking a quick glance at Andrew and smile. Shaking my head, I whisper back, “He’s my co-worker...and I’m pretty sure he can hear you.”

Laughing, Rachel takes our beverage order and returns shortly with two bottles of beer and a small galvanized steel bucket of peanuts then scribbles our dinner order.

A handful of peanuts are scooped out and placed onto a dish sitting in the center of the table. Slowly Andrew cracks the shell, popping the nuts into his mouth. I, on the other hand, place the entire peanut, shell and all, into my mouth to suck the salt off first before I proceed to remove the casing.

His eyes are laser focused on me as he shifts in his seat.

Enjoying this little game, I continue to swirl my tongue around, causing the peanut to bulge at my cheek as I suck off the natural sodium. Pushing the entire peanut through my lips, I retrieve it with pinched fingers and crack the softened shell before dropping the two seeds onto my tongue.

After moaning dramatically, I grin. “I love salty nuts,” I say casually.

His throat rolls as he swallows the food in his mouth then takes a healthy swig of beer.

I grin crookedly at the expression on his face. Lust and frustration battle for prominence.

Leaning forward, Andrew narrows his eyes and clenches his jaw. “If we were home, I’d rip your clothes off right now and fuck you fast and hard.”

I gulp at his words and feel a shiver slide down my spine. Trust me, I can flirt just as well as anyone else, but the look in his eyes renders me speechless with no witty comeback except, “Too bad we aren’t home.”

Casting my eyes away, I look down and grab the last peanut as Andrew does the same. Our fingers brush against one another in the bucket, with each of us refusing to let go. Curling my smaller fingers around the legume, I claim victory when I hold the papery shell between my thumb and index finger, slowly licking the salt off. I tilt my head, drawing out the process with tiny laps of my tongue.

“I licked it so I guess it’s mine.”

When my attention is drawn away momentarily, Andrew seizes the opportunity to retaliate.

Grabbing my wrist, he leans across the table and shoves my fingers into his mouth, stealing the peanut from me. With a single motion, he cracks it and uses his free hand to remove the shell. Revealing the two oval pieces in his mouth, he chews then swallows. His eyes never stray from mine.

“I ate it...so I guess it’s mine.”

I release the breath I’d been holding and feel moisture dampen my hot pink lace hipsters.

“Here you go,” Rachel says, setting down a huge platter of smoked BBQ baby back ribs, a side of mashed potatoes and buttered corn on the cob. “These are the best. The meat is so tender,” Rachel moans, “it falls right off and you’ll be left sucking the bone.”

Dragging his gaze away from the waitress, Andrew’s cheek lifts slightly, revealing the hint of a sly and devious smile. “Sounds delicious already.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

Using nimble fingers to pull the ribs apart, Andrew nods. “I think I have everything I need right in front of me.”

I think I have everything I need right in front of me? With our playful antics about peanuts fresh on my mind, I wonder if he’s really talking about the food on his plate or something entirely different. I can’t imagine the possibility that Andrew is referring to me. There’s no way! Is there? I tighten my lips into a hard line as emotion swells in my heart and butterflies flit around my belly.

When I catch his eye, something tells me it just might be the latter.

Andrew and I dig in to the meal, moaning our pleasure as we devour the tender meat.

I reach for the last piece of corn bread at the exact same moment Andrew does.

“Leggo my Eggo!” I laugh, closing my fingers, staking my claim on the sweet bread.

“What’d you say?” he asks curiously.

“I said ‘Leggo my Eggo’!” I repeat with a smile. “Remember that commercial from when we were kids? Gabe would always steal my waffle, but then Cooper would take it away from him.” The memories flood my mind. “Oh my God, my older brothers used to torment me.”

Andrew’s smile slips from his face and for a moment, he looks...sad. With an imperceptible nod, he confirms that he does in fact remember. “I can’t imagine life with so many siblings.”

He relinquishes his hold on the corn bread. “You can have it.”

My jaw drops dramatically. “Andrew Darling playing nice. Hah! You’re full of surprises.”

“Actually I’m full of something else,” he counters darkly with a slow wink.

Lust insists my stomach is willing to forgo my favorite dessert in the world just to have a taste of what he’s offering, but Logic isn’t buying it.

Changing the conversation, I ask him what his favorite subject in school was.

“Human biology.” He suppresses a smile.

I tilt my head and twist my lips sarcastically. “In elementary school!” I clarify.

“Reading. I liked reading and math.”

“Really?” I ask, thinking he would have said Physical Education or something more active. “What— did you have a hot teacher who loved reading and you wanted to make a good impression?”

Laughing, Andrew replies and says that wasn’t the case at all. “Reading was an escape and I’ve always been good with numbers.”

“Numbers, huh? What’s sixteen times twenty-two?”

Andrew’s eyes shift downward as he blinks, his eyelids moving quickly as he calculates the multiplication fact mentally.

“Three hundred fifty- two.”

Using my finger on the placemat, I write the equation and confirm his answer.

“Okay. Then what was your favorite book?”

Andrew wipes a smudge of BBQ sauce from the corner of his mouth with a napkin then sets it down, eyeing me carefully. “The Giver.”

I choke on a sip of beer. “The Giver? Seriously? I loved that book, too. I felt so badly for Jonas when he realized his perfect world wasn’t so perfect after all. Can you imagine the burden of carrying all those memories? I’m sure there were plenty he wanted to forget.”

Tightening his lips, Andrew agrees. “Like when he found out his father was a murderer.”

Lifting the bottle of beer to my lips, I comment about how my mother would’ve preferred I read Nancy Drew instead of something so mature and serious. I always figured things out before my brothers did and she thought I was a good detective.

“Good detective, huh?”

“Yep. I can sit for hours and work on a puzzle.”

Andrew scoffs and wrinkles his forehead as he sits back in his chair. “A puzzle.” He laughs. “What does that have to do with being a detective?”

“Think about it. Every piece has its own shape and characteristic. You need to analyze each one to see how it fits with the others. You have to look at the colors and the whole picture. If the pieces don’t fit, you have to keep working until you find its match. With a mystery, you have to pick up on the clues, put them together to see if it all matches. Sometimes the ones you think should go together don’t always. Problem solved.”

Mocking me, Andrew says, “That’s a ridiculous analogy.”

“No it’s not—”

“How’re you two lovebirds doing over here?” Rachel asks, clearing away some of the dishes. “Did you save room for dessert?”

My eyes widen as I protest her suggestion that Andrew and I are a couple.

“It’s not like that, Rach. Some days I hardly even like him,” I add for good measure then grin at my dinner companion.

“And other days she loves me.” His gaze holds mine for a split second. “Excuse me.” Andrew rises from the table and walks across the bar, following the sign to the restrooms.

“Did I say something wrong?” Rachel asks, a worried expression on her face.

“Nah,” I brush off her concern. “He’s moody. I’ll take the check when you have a chance.”

Scanning the busy restaurant, I look to my right, glancing over my shoulder when I feel the weight of someone’s stare. I search for the heavy eyes and catch Mason staring at me from his seat at the end of the bar. The frizzy-haired brunette curled up next to him is vying for his undivided attention just as she has done since we were kids in middle school.

I mouth, “Shannon Stanton?” then roll my eyes, suggesting he can do much better than her.

Mason half-smiles and subtly shakes his head as Shannon tugs on his arm, practically begging him to dance. After much convincing, she finally succeeds and drags him onto the small crowded dance floor when a Luke Bryan song comes on.

“You wanna dance?” Andrew asks, startling me as his breath releases behind my ear.

My lips turn upward and I smile, turning slowly to reply. My breathing hitches and I gasp when his lips find mine, sending a surge of heat and electricity down my throat and into my entire body. To say that I mind having Andrew kiss me would be a complete and utter lie, but this pendulum he has me swinging on is making me dizzy. I pull back slightly and catch the amusement in his eyes. Suppressing the desire to feel his mouth on mine, I manage to murmur and ask what he’s doing.

“Giving Mason an even better reason to stare at you.”

Although it would be fun to drive Mason crazy and see his jealous side emerge, I pass on Andrew’s offer.

“What?!” I sneer, sucking my teeth loudly. “Mason’s not staring at me. Besides he’s on a date.”

“An awful one. The poor woman doesn’t stand a chance with you in the room.”

My expression turns to disbelief. “You’re making stuff up now.”

“Trust me, I’m not. He’s been looking over at you all night. I think he regrets letting you go.” Then he adds quietly, “I know I would.”

When Rachel sets the check down on the table, I reach for the hand-written bill and place my debit card on top.

“I’ve got it,” Andrew says as he holds my debit card out, suggesting I put it away.

“Too slow, Darling!” I tease, handing over the payment to Rachel.

Andrew sits down and shakes his head. “You really are stubborn!”

“You know that’s the second or third time you called me stubborn,” I point out the simple fact with a raised brow.

“When?” he huffs.

“Yep! That day at Victor’s off—” I argue but quickly backpedal nervously when I notice his countenance shifts somberly. “Never mind.”

“Well,” he starts, arranging his well-worn mask back in place with a cool smile, “next time we go out to eat, I’m paying.”

Rachel returns with my debit card and I scribble my name after adding a handsome tip.

“Twenty-five percent? That’s quite generous.” Andrew chuckles softly when he sits.

“I used to work here every summer since high school. Tips are important.”

Nodding, Andrew seems to accept my explanation.

“Did you work as a teenager? I bet you were a life guard or a camp counselor.” I laugh, trying to picture him doing arts and crafts with youngsters.

“I actually didn’t have a real job until I was almost twenty-eight.”

I slam my hands on the table, drawing attention from the older couple sitting next to us. I glance over and offer a quick smile along with an apology.

“Twenty-eight? Twenty—eight? Who does that? How’d you get money?”

Before Andrew’s lips part to respond, I answer my own question with humor. “That’s right!” I palm my forehead. “I forgot you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

Narrowing his eyes, Andrew leans forward and smirks. “You really think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you, Nancy Drew? You have no idea. But if you must know, I dabble in a few different things. I’ve made some investments.”

I sense a challenge in his voice as though he wants me to figure him out; he wants me to put the pieces together. The understanding behind his motivation evades me.

“Then tell me. Tell me what it was like for you. Give me some insight into who Andrew Jackson Darling really is.” I realize the tone of my voice seems desperate, but the truth is, I am desperate to get to know him better and to understand his relationship with his parents. With each passing day, I like him more and more. I enjoy his company; I enjoy his sense of humor and I really enjoy his touch.

“You actually know a lot more about me than most people.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, tilting my head with curiosity.

“I’ve lived most of my life in the shadows. I like it there. No one bothers me. There’s no expectation. No disappointment.”

A wave of sadness washes over me, and I long to reach across the table to caress his cheek, easing the lines of wariness and tension which are now visibly stretched across his face.

“You ready to go?” I ask, gathering my bag and sliding it onto my shoulder. “I hope Connor is still awake.”

“Wanna go say goodbye to Mason?” Andrew jokes as he stands.

My eyes widen with mock excitement and I rub my palms together greedily. “Maybe I can get a good night kiss from him,” I toss back as I walk toward the exit.

Following closely behind me, Andrew places a hand on the small of my back and mumbles in my ear something that sounds very much like, “Don’t worry. I’ve got one for you.”

♦♦♦

Knocking on the door of my brother’s apartment, we are greeted by Molly, his longtime girlfriend, who raises a finger to her lips and gives me a sympathetic smile. “I tried to keep him up, but he just fell asleep,” she whispers, cradling her son in her arms.

Disappointment settles on my face, but my frown gives way to a smile when I kiss his soft red curls and inhale the scent of innocence.

I quietly introduce Andrew then promise a swift return as I follow Molly down the hallway to the nursery. With a glance back, I catch Andrew checking out my backside and I narrow my eyes.

“Are you checking out my ass?” I ask, stopping mid-step.

After swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, Andrew grins and draws out his words slowly and he shrugs defenselessly. “Can’t help myself. It’s a really, really nice ass.”

His comment sends warmth to every part of my body and moisture between my thighs. I turn and continue toward the baby’s room, swaying my hips for his viewing pleasure until I round the corner. Even though I couldn’t see those beautiful blue eyes, I know they were on me the whole time.

Stepping into Connor’s nursery, I freeze as my eyes take in the sheer beauty and workmanship of the hand-crafted furniture. The details along the wood reveal the endless hours spent by my father and brother, working side by side to carve the intricacies with fine tools. Sadness settles on my heart momentarily because deep in the back of my father’s huge shed is the crib he designed and started to build a few days after I married Sean. Having always loved children, the prospect of starting a family seemed inevitable. I had no doubts that our family would quickly grow from two to three, but Sean had other plans. God only knows what the future holds for me now.

My nephew settles, lying peacefully on his back with an angelic smile on his chubby face. A carbon copy of Gabriel with Molly’s fiery red hair, Connor has become the apple of everyone’s eye.

Molly turns to me and smiles. “He could use a cousin.”

I scoff and cover my mouth to prevent the noise from waking the infant. “You do realize I’m not married anymore, right?”

“Neither am I!” she hisses, her lips twisting to point out the fact.

A picture of my brother and his family at an apple orchard catches my eye. I pick it up and admire it. “True, but you’re with Gabe.” I grin at her. “Although I don’t know why,” I say with an exaggerated gagging noise. “And a piece of paper isn’t going to change that. You guys love each other!”

Molly nods then sighs. “That we do.”

“Then why won’t you marry him already?”

With a shrug of her shoulders, she says, “I don’t know. I’m not ready.”

I toss her a wry look.

“Promising to love someone for the rest of your life is kind of scary to me.”

“But you loved Connor before you even met him.”

“Loving my child is different. That little boy is my heart and soul. From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I knew I would give anything and everything to keep him safe. Remember, he didn’t ask to be born.” She says with a small shake of her head. “He didn’t come to me with preconceived notions or expectations. The only thing he came to me with was unconditional love. He was entitled to the best of everything—the best parents, the best care, the best family—but all of that aside, he was entitled to love from the very beginning.”

Moisture blurs my eyes and a smile tips my lips. “You’re a good momma. He’s a lucky little boy.”

Molly turns on the monitor then glances back at her child. “I am very blessed.”

Entering the small living area littered with baby paraphernalia, I find Andrew sitting on the striped sofa, scrolling through his phone, wearing a look of discomfort on his face. On the cushion next to his leg is a vintage toy, one my brothers played with before passing it down to me. I smile at the thought.

“That used to be mine,” I say, gliding over to sit beside him, lifting the toy in remembrance.

“I had one of those too,” he states somberly then exhales quietly.

His form appears colossal in the tiny two bedroom apartment, and my thoughts drift to the idea of him living all alone in the nearly five-thousand square foot home he now owns.

Amazed, I smile softly at how an old toy can catapult me back to the years I played with my brothers and fought for attention amongst them. Thankfully though, being the youngest and the only girl, it wasn’t nearly as bad for me as it was for Gabe. He was good in sports, but he certainly wasn’t the most scholarly of the Montgomery clan.

After setting his phone down and clearing his throat, Andrew runs a quick hand through his hair then picks up the toy. I turn my head to look at him, surprised by the stark expression on his face. Hoping to ease the obvious tension, I make an attempt at humor.

“Bet you had a roomful.”

“Of?” he asks for clarification.

“Toys. I’m sure you had a roomful of all kinds of toys.”

A deep, slow grin appears when he looks at me from the corner of his eye. “Still do.”

I chuckle and nod. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

The vibration of his phone pulls his eyes away from me and I steal a glance at it.

Paige.

A roar of jealousy tempers through me, and I clench my teeth, mentally chastising myself for the inexplicable and completely inappropriate reaction. Andrew Darling is nothing to me. He’s a friend—a coworker—business partner and unfortunately, a one-night stand. Nothing else.

So why does my heart beat faster when he glances in my direction? Why do I melt at his touch? Why am I filled with a desperate desire to taste his lips? Why does the sound of his voice send shivers down my spine? Why does the kindling in my veins transform into a raging wildfire whenever he’s near me? Why do I become possessive and want to stake a claim on him? And why do I feel like I’m falling hard for him?

Needing to distract myself from grabbing his phone and smashing it onto the dark hardwood, I gather my hair, separate it into three sections and form a loose braid.

“What’s wrong?” Andrew inquires.

“Nothing,” I respond too quickly.

A deep exhale emerges from Andrew’s lungs.

“What’s wrong with you?” I question, drawing his attention away from the screen.

“Nothing,” he tosses out the same word, but I get the feeling he isn’t being truthful, judging by the wrinkle between his brows.

Silence fills the small space between us as my eyes scan my brother’s modest home. A picture of my parents steals my attention. I rise and walk to the black and white photograph nestled in the chunky black frame. Captured forever in time is the image of my mother holding Connor. The look of pure adoration and love shared between them is as clear and bright as the stars on a moonless night.

The proximity of Andrew’s voice at my ear startles me and my spine stiffens. The butterflies reappear, fluttering wildly in my belly. “Your mom looks so happy.”

I turn my head slightly, smiling and parting my lips to address him before returning my eyes to the picture. “She really does. She watches him three days a week and comes over to see him when Molly is home. She is so in love with that little boy. He’s her entire world. Except for the red hair, he looks so much like my brother Paul.”

“Paul?”

“My brother who passed away when he was sixteen. I told you about him.” I swallow the lump in my throat thinking about how difficult it must be for my mother. To look at your grandson and see the face of your dead son.

Andrew moves in closer, nearly pressing his chest into my back and his erection into my ass. I gasp quietly when his hand travels up my arm and then moves my braid. Feeling his lips at my ear, my eyes close.

“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” He places a light kiss below my ear.

Again, I swallow nervously and hum.

Another soft kiss. “I want to be with you. To taste you. To feel your mouth wrapped around this.” His hand slides to my stomach, pulling me abruptly against his solid length. “I want more than just your pus—”

“Anyone want coffee?” Molly asks, startling me as she stands there wide-eyed holding a mug in the air. Grinning she adds, “Or a room?”

My cheeks flush, and I move away from Andrew immediately.

“Sure,” I reply. “To the coffee!”

Accepting the offer, Andrew and I both prepare our hot beverages and settle back in the living room. I chuckle at Andrew’s comments about Connor’s overabundance of toys.

“Whenever we go into town, no one can resist his charms,” Molly says, “and when he smiles, forget it! Women practically throw things at him. One would think he’s the Christ child or something.”

A devious grin stretches across Andrew’s face. “Must be nice.” His grin grows wider. “I wouldn’t know a thing about that.”

Laughter erupts from my belly and I set my coffee cup down on the end table beside me. “You are such a liar! Women everywhere drool over you! Even before you open your mouth to speak in French, they’re batting their eyelashes and dropping their panties.”

Connor cries out from his crib, causing his mother to rise quickly to soothe him. “He’s teething.” The look on her face reveals the lengths a parent would go to relieve their child of any sort of agony. After a few hurried strides toward the hall, Andrew and I are left alone again.

“Everyone but you.”

My head snaps in Andrew’s direction. “What?”

“You heard me,” he replies, leaning in closer to me, eliciting goose bumps to dot my skin. “I’ve never had to work so hard to fuck someone as I have with you, but then again I’ve never craved someone as much as I do you.”

“Maybe I’m just not into you like that,” I shoot back with raised brows.

“Oh, you’re into me alright. I don’t know why you’re fighting me so hard on this.”

I raise my chin defiantly.

“I bet if I slid my fingers into you, they’d be soaked.”

I gulp and tighten my core muscles, lifting my chin as a surge of bravado rises up from my toes. “Wanna bet?” I challenge with a raised eyebrow.

Andrew secures my braid in his tight grip and tugs gently, pulling me closer. Whispering menacingly, he replies, “You’re playing with fire, Morgan.”

Narrowing my eyes, I look at him and lean in, ghosting my lips over his. “I’ll take my chances; I learned fire safety when I was a Girl Scout.” With a swift movement, I pull my braid from his clutch and smirk.

♦♦♦

The drive back to my parents’ house is riddled with sexual tension as Andrew and I deliver reciprocal, witty one-liners, laced with innuendos until he pulls the car into an empty lot, slams on the brakes, enshrouding us in darkness. The light from the dashboard illuminates his face and all signs of playfulness disappear.

“Say one more word and I swear to God, I’m going to drag you to the backseat and fuck the hell out of you right here, right now.”

I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Promises, promises, promises.”

That was it!

Like he said he would, Andrew jumps out of the Hummer, races around the passenger’s side window and stands there staring at me. Panicked, I quickly press the button to lock the door because the look in his eyes warns me he is serious. A hundred percent serious.

“Open the door,” he demands, glaring at me through the closed window.

I glance over at him and shake my head no.

“Morgan, open the door.”

“Nope,” I reply, unclicking my seat belt as a devious grin slides onto my face. A motion sensor on the side of the building flickers on and casts a shadow behind Andrew. I suddenly realize I’ve been presented with the perfect opportunity to drive him completely insane. I can’t really explain my thought process as I shift my body and lift each leg slowly, leaving them outstretched and spread wide along the dash in front of me. I sigh heavily and tilt my head to the right to look at him. Ever so slowly, my hand slides to the crux of my inner thigh.

“Don’t you dare?” he growls, shaking his head slowly.

“Do what?” I ask as my hand moves lower and slides up and down against the seam of my jeans, creating wonderful friction. “What are you going to do about it, Andrew?”

“Open the door!” he spits through gritted teeth.

Ignoring his demand, I release the button on my jeans and allow my hand to disappear into the cavern of heat and moisture. The pad of my middle finger grazes over the buzzing nub and my eyes remain focused on his.

“Oh my fucking God.”

With small circles, my mind imagines his fingers are the ones arousing me this way instead of my own. I bite down on my bottom lip as the pressure in my body builds. My eyes flutter to a close while I pleasure myself in front of him, and I fight to maintain control until the pounding on the window startles me. Distracted, I screw my eyes shut and let his name slip from my lips in a whispered moan. The impending orgasm is so close; knowing that Andrew can only watch spurs me to continue on with my pursuit.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls in the dark.

“I’m so close.”

“Morgan!” he rebukes sharply before slowly enunciating each word like a punctuated syllable. “Do. Not. Make. Yourself. Come.”

Again his words fall on deaf ears as I continue.

“Do you fucking hear me?” A closed fist raps on the window. “Don’t do it. I want it! Morg—”

I’m just about there...then a flash of colored lights and the sound of a siren frighten me, and I’m forced to relinquish my quest for utter bliss. I open my eyes and hiss under my breath when I see the police officer. “Nice timing, big brother!”

Blinded by the headlights of Gabe’s police cruiser, I shield my eyes with my free hand, pull my shirt down over my unzipped pants and then sit up. A quick glance to my right reveals the absence of Andrew. After pressing the button to lower the window, I pray the scent of my near climax doesn’t drift in the air when Gabe walks over.

“Hey, what’s up?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant but find it nearly impossible to hide the annoyance and guilt that taint my voice.

Gabe lifts his hand and produces my purse. “Molly said you left it.” He looks around in the dark. “Where’s Andrew?”

“I’m right here,” Andrew says with a strained voice.

My mouth opens slightly then transforms into a side smirk when he steps into view from behind the vehicle, adjusting his shirt over his pants.

“Couldn’t wait another second,” he says, addressing my brother.

My brother’s eyes dart from Andrew to me. Nodding slowly, he considers the situation then asks if I’ll still be home in the morning for Sunday breakfast.

I nod. “Yeah, we’ll be there. I already told him,” I tip my chin toward Andrew, “all about the French toast.” I moan dramatically. “It’s so moist and sweet. He’ll be begging for more.”

Andrew’s eyes narrow slightly when my brother makes his return to the cruiser but doesn’t move.

The black and white vehicle rolls to a stop and the window descends.

“I’ll pick up some donuts,” my brother calls out with a chuckle.

“Of course you will,” I reply.

Returning my attention to Andrew when I feel the weight of his stare, I smile coyly. “Well, that was...interesting.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” he commands then walks around to the front of the Hummer and climbs into the driver’s seat. His chest rises and falls with deep breaths.

“You feeling okay?” I ask, genuinely concerned for his well-being because he looks like he’s going to explode.

“What—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs so quietly I barely hear it.

Grinning, I shoot back. “I didn’t do anything to you, Darling.”

Immediately assaulted by the collision of his mouth against mine, Andrew devours my additional words of sarcasm and plunges his tongue in deeply, dueling angrily as if trying to regain control of the situation. His hands cup my face and angle my head, providing unrestricted access to my neck. A torrent of kisses are showered on my skin until his lips once again find mine.

My arousal reignites when his hand slides into my pants, and his fingers resume the circling motion on my oversensitive clit. I grab the back of his head and deepen the kiss, fully prepared to surrender my orgasm to him.

“I’m gonna co—”

I have one foot over the proverbial edge of ecstasy and then everything stops. His fingers freeze and the swirling of his tongue is suspended.

“What the hell, Andrew?!” I protest against his lips, my eyes wide with disbelief.

Slowly, he pulls back, creating some space to look at me.

“I told you to stop before, didn’t I?”

I gulp. The quiet, lethal tone of his voice renders me speechless so much so that I’m only able to nod once.

“Did you listen?”

From right to left, I shake my head slowly.

With seriousness etched across his face, he warns, “Don’t ever do that again.”

♦♦♦

I climb the front steps with Andrew following closely behind.

“I still can’t believe you did that!”

“Me? You fucking locked me out of my own car and shoved your hand down your pants!”

“I didn’t really do it,” I toss back a lie.

Andrew steps in front of me and grabs my right hand, raising it to his nose.

I watch with rapt attention as he opens his mouth and licks each digit slowly.

“I beg to differ,” he replies with a smirk.

“I hate you!”

“No you don’t. Actually, I believe you said something earlier today about loving me.”

“About that...”

The front door creaks open.

“Hey, you two are back,” my mother states, looking up from her laptop when she spots us coming in the front door. “I was just finishing some online shopping. I got the cutest things for little Connor. I’ll tell you what...they didn’t have cute clothes when my boys were that age.”

I subconsciously reach for the button on my shirt and double check I’ve secured it properly. Andrew’s hands took a detour and ventured on a journey, exploring the swells of my breasts after finally making me come.

Darting his eyes quickly while a smirk appears on his face, Andrew suppresses his amusement.

“Did you need to use the bathroom?” I tease, knowing his erection is stiff and his balls might explode from the pressure. “It’s down the hall.” I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “Last door on the left.”

After watching him exit the room, I sigh heavily.

“What is going on with you two?” my mother asks with curiosity on her face. Her sly smile is a dead giveaway that she’s aware of our chemistry.

I pull out a chair and plop myself down, crossing my arms on the table and dropping my head quite dramatically. “Oh, Mom!”

“You really like him, don’t you?” I feel her hand caress the strands of hair on my head.

Lifting my head slightly, I meet her gaze and nod. “I can’t like him. I shouldn’t like him, but I do. So much.”

The look on my mother’s face reveals her confusion. “Honey, why can’t you like him? He seems like quite a catch if you ask me.”

I make a mental list of the criteria which qualifies him as “a catch.”

“We have fun together. He’s smart. He’s playful. He’s kind and generous,” I pause, knowing I can’t provide a detailed explanation of his generosity to my mother. “We just click.”

“Well, what’s the problem then?”

“He’s super moody and temperamental. I don’t think he’s right,” I whisper, pointing to my head. “He’s got a lot going on in there and he won’t talk about it.”

Her eyes widen and round. “Mental health issues?”

I shrug. “No, I wouldn’t necessarily say that. I mean, he...I don’t know how to explain it. I guess he’s damaged goods.”

“Damaged goods?” my mom repeats, her voice laced with offense.

With a blank expression on his face, Andrew walks in and interrupts our conversation.

I return my attention to my mother whose hand is now stretched across her forehead with her thumb rubbing small circles against her temple.

“Hey, how’s your headache?” I ask.

She drops her hand. “It’s okay.”

“Are you taking your medication?”

“When I need it,” she says with a tone that suggests the conversation is over. “I’m heading to bed.”

I yawn, suddenly exhausted by the roller coaster of emotions I’ve experienced in the last hour. “Yeah, we’re going to call it a night too. Is the guest room all set?”

Blinking rapidly, my mom avoids my gaze.

“What?”

“Dad put an air mattress on the floor in your room for Andrew.”

“What’s wrong with the guest room?” I ask, wondering if I missed a conversation about a new project.

She grins and looks at Andrew. “Unless you want to spend the night in a crib...”

The realization hits me. “Ohhh, gotcha.” I may be thirty-two years old, but to my father I’m his little girl. “Air mattress it is.”

My mother rises, kisses my cheek and smooths a hand over my hair just as she’s done my entire life. “Night, Mom. Love you.” She returns the sentiment then walks over to Andrew. “I’m really happy you came with Morgan.” She stands on the tips of her toes and pecks his cheek with a soft kiss. “Good night, Andrew.”

His tall frame visibly stiffens after my mom’s display of affection.

“Good night, Mrs. Montgomery.”

“Please call me Lori. Whatever you do though,” she smiles, “do not call me Lorraine. It’s such a,” she air quotes, “grandmother’s name.”

“Ma, you are a grandmother!” I remind her.

“True, but I’m a young gramma. Connor and I have so much fun together. I think I might be a better grandmother than I was a mother.”

I rise from the table and laugh, wrapping my arms around her small frame. “Impossible. You are the best mother in the world. In fact,” I look back at the beverage on the table, “You even have a mug to prove it.”

“And you turned out to be such a good daughter,” she teases, recalling the time I was brought home in the back of a police cruiser. To this day, I still swear my innocence; it wasn’t my fault. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the Devil made me do it.

“Mom! That was once! If you knew all the things Coop and Gabe did...” I shake my head to shame her. “You would probably have a heart attack and die right here.”

She steps away and throws her hands in the air. “I don’t want to know.” Continuing to repeat the phrase, my mom ascends the stairs until I hear the soft click of her door.

“I like your mom,” Andrew states softly.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

“But she’s wrong about something.”

My forehead wrinkles. “Wrong? About what?”

Striding quickly, Andrew stops inches away from me. “I haven’t come with you yet.”

My hand rises and slaps against his chest. “Is that all you ever think about?”

With amused eyes, Andrew nods slowly, confirming my suspicions.