Cruise

I hate that I’ve brought her into this house, even if it’s just verbally. She was my secret.

My Dove.

My yellow.

Now she’s exposed.

My family will chew this information up and spit it out as if she’s disposable. Exposing myself is one thing, but exposing her sets us both up. Fuck.

“Who?” Fredrick asks with disgust rolling off his tongue.

Paige is the opposite. She bounds to her feet. “You are? Who is the lucky girl?” She gives me too much credit.

“It’s new.”

My sister laughs of pure joy. “That explains your aura. She’s good for you, Cruise.”

“For God’s sake, stop calling him that,” my father snaps.

Shooting him a look, Paige says, “Daddy. John is happy. This would be a good time for you to support him.”

She’s the only one who can speak to the Senator like that and get away with it. There’s something innately good in Paige. It’s almost like she’s adopted too. She’s not. She’s a spitting image of my mother when my mom was Paige’s age. My father says Paige is like his sister. Other than the no good comments, he says his sister could charm a starving man out of a free dinner she had such a way with words. It’s always been a weird analogy, but we got the point.

“I’m out of here.” For some reason my feet don’t move. I don’t know what I expect from him, but it seems like I deserved more than this.

The Senator rubs his neck as if an imaginary tie is strangling him. “Bring her around. Let’s meet the girl that’s so special that the youngest needs to make a spectacle of the night.”

I laugh. Shaking my head, I am once again reminded that I can never win. Not with him. Not in this family. “You’re a real asshole, Senator.” Refusing him the privilege of the title “father.” Wow, that felt better than I thought it would. All those years these feelings have festered, leading to this moment. I look at Fredrick and still at the sight of his smug expression. The fucker is just as fucked up as the Senator. Assholes.

Not running, I still find myself alone as I exit and walk across the circular drive. Paige reaches me before I grab my helmet. “Don’t leave mad.”

Looking at her, I realize how hard she’s always tried, but for what? Why? I’m okay walking away from most of them. Matty and Paige are different though. “I’m not mad, Paigey. I’m done trying. I’m done trying to please them. It’s never going to happen. I’m just done.”

“He loves you.”

“Then he should be telling me instead of you having to tell me.”

“John, wait.” We turn toward the door. My mother walks down the steps and across the drive.

When I look at my mother, considering all the good she has done in her life, the idea of the Senator cheating on her with a woman more than half his age makes my chest hurt for her. Actually, it makes me furious. The man is more than an asshole. He’s a hypocrite and bastard. She deserves better, but sadly, will probably never leave. Appearances and all. I need to accept that she is an adult and has to own this. “I’m sorry, Mom. I know I was disrespectful and I’ll apologize to you, but I won’t to him. We’ll never see eye to eye—”

Her hand touches my forearm. “And that’s okay. You and your father are nothing alike. All I ever wanted was for you to be able to find your own happiness. This woman may be new to your life, but seeing you happy makes me happy.” She embraces me. “Ignore him, John. Follow your own path. Find what makes you want to wake up in the morning.”

Find a woman that makes you smile.

Alex’s words come back as I hug her, the sentiment the same. “I love you.”

“I love you, son.” She turns and goes inside without another word.

Paige says, “You are loved. I know you don’t feel it, but you are.” She hugs me quick and then dashes back to the house. Calling from the porch, she adds, “I’m going to call you soon and make you tell me all your secrets.”

Sliding my helmet on, I lift the visor. “You call me and I’ll tell you some of my secrets.”

“I’ll take it. Drive safe, little brother.”

I give her a nod before I climb onto my bike. Once I exit the property, I fly down the road. It feels good to be back on the bike. Just me. Just the road. Freedom. The shackles of life fall off. I only focus on the journey ahead, letting my past slide away to deal with another day.

If this were a few months ago, I would text Celeste and head over. That it’s so easy not to text her reaffirms that ending it with her was the right thing to do. If we weren’t, thinking about the Senator with her would end it anyway.

It’s tempting to text Clara, but that’s not how we’re going to start this relationship. Anyway, I have a dinner to plan. That’s what I should do when I get home. Like the road, she gives me something to focus on that’s healthier for my mind and body. Still doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of those little white panties.

The sweet smell she hides between her legs—her own lust covering the cotton. Her desire for me. The memory causes my dick to ache for relief.

Fuck.

Once I reach the penthouse, I head straight for the shower with a throbbing cock in hand.

Stepping under the water, it’s not even hot, but the warmth will do. The shower covers my back as I lean one hand high on the cold tile and the other takes hold of my hard dick. I start a slow stroke with a tight grip. The water helps my hand slide with ease, and deep inside, the coil starts tightening. Images of Dove beneath me, my mouth on her and how good she smelled and tasted winds me too tight to last.

“Dove.” Her name comes like a swear word, fogging the glass in front of me as I shoot streams across the tile. My breaths are heavy, but satisfaction is found. I remain under the water, letting it beat down on my tired muscles.

When I fall into bed, I grab my phone. The mystery of the girl who equally intrigues me and turns me on is on my mind so often that I type Clara Eckerd into the search box. My finger hovers over the search button just like it has so many other times, but I don’t push it. There’s something about her that makes me want to discover every inch of her with her.

God, I can’t wait until tomorrow night.

* * *

“Six on the dot. You’re very punctual.” Clara extends her arm above her head while holding the door open. Unabashedly, my eyes travel the lines of her body. Damn, she’s going to do me in. I foresee an early grave with her looking so utterly gorgeous with her brown hair falling in soft curls past her shoulders and light makeup that lets her natural beauty shine through. “Come in.”

When she moves to the side, I walk in with two bags in my hands, but stop in front her and lean in. She’s already got me figured out. Her head tilts to the side giving me the access she knows I want. My eyes close when my lips meet her skin.

She stands still, but whispers, “You’re very affectionate.” She doesn’t giggle like most women who bat their eyelashes for attention. No, it’s like the early stages of dating have long since passed for us despite the short time. I find comfort in her smile, the mutual connection extended between us.

These damn groceries are filling my arms, but if they weren’t, I’d spend seconds, minutes, days of our lives appreciating her delicate neck and collarbone. She makes it impossible to resist her. “You’re very enticing.”

“You’re so open.” The door closes and I hear her behind me as we go to the kitchen. “Do you always say what you think?”

“It’s not what I think, Dove. It’s what I feel.” I set the bags on the small butcher-block island in the center of the kitchen. Catching her eyes on me, I give her a smile. Not just for show, like I’ve done for so many others, but because I feel it inside. Yellow. “I don’t always say everything that comes to mind, but I do say what I mean. Life’s too short to rattle about bullshit that doesn’t matter.” She smiles as she starts unpacking the bags, and I nudge her with my elbow. “What are you smiling about?”

“You. This. Is it weird that I like when you use swear words? You say them with abandon as if there’s no repercussion.”

“There isn’t. Fuck. Shit. Damn. Look, nothing happened. Did you used to get in trouble for swearing?”

The smile doesn’t fade. It vanishes altogether. A darkness comes over her features as she stares at a can in her hand. I ask, “What’s wrong?”

Her bottom lip is tugged under her top teeth, worrying it. “We weren’t allowed to swear growing up. It was considered a sin against God, and disrespectful to my father.”

“Did he swear?”

When she looks up, her eyes are glassy. “All the time, but at us. He hated us.”

“I’m sure he didn’t. He was probably just mad, right?”

I watch her carefully. When a tear slips down her cheek, I move in front of her and take her face between my hands. With my thumb, I wipe that tear away. “Don’t cry. I won’t swear at you. Okay? I promise.”

“My mom said I’m making up for lost time, rushing into a relationship, rushing into you. Too much too soon. But it doesn’t feel that way to me. It’s as if your soul is speaking to mine. Arms wide open, saying, ‘I see you, the real you that you hide from others and I accept you.’”

Whoa. This got heavy fast, but as I look at her, I think I feel the same. “That’s how you feel about me?” Please say yes. Please don’t let this be one-sided.

Nodding, she looks down as if embarrassed. I tilt her chin so I can see her pretty eyes. “What’s happening between us is real. I feel it, too.”

“You do?” Hope fills her eyes and her fingers tangle with the hem of my shirt.

I’m drawn to her in such a carnal way that’s more than sexual, and I can see it consuming me if I’m not careful. Like Alex with Sara Jane. I understand now. The thing is, standing in front her now, looking into those doe eyes, I don’t want to be careful. I don’t want to take it slow. I just want her in so many ways that I open my heart and am willing to bleed for her. Vulnerability is what I fight against. It’s raw and rough. But she deserves all my truths. Taking one of her hands, I open it and kiss her palm. “I do, Dove.”

She lifts up and I lean down and our lips meet in the middle. Those images from the night in her room, of her almost bare before me, come back, waking my body. I kiss her, backing her until she hits the fridge and my middle is pressed hard into hers. “God, I want you. So much.”

“We can—”

“It kills me to put the brakes on, but I came here to make you dinner. As for dessert, I’m thinking about the taste of your lips, the smell of your—”

“Cruise,” she says, wide-eyed. But I see how her body responds to dirty words. Her nipples are pert against the fabric of her tank top. The long skirt holds all kinds of secrets I want to uncover.

“Baked goods,” I tease. “I was going to say baked goods.”

She bursts out laughing and playfully hits my chest when she returns to the groceries. “Sure you were.” Analyzing the spread in front of her, she asks, “What are you cooking anyway?”

“Chicken Scallopini with roasted vegetables.” Holding up the bottle of white wine, I add, “I’ll use a little of this with the chicken and the rest we can drink. Do you have glasses?”

Reaching into a cabinet behind her, she produces two highball glasses. “Will these work?”

There’s something so endearing about her that everything I was taught, etiquette for blue bloods, doesn’t matter. I’d rather drink wine in red Solo cups than in crystal wine glasses with the supposed upper crust of society. “Yep.”

I twist the cap off and fill the glasses just less than halfway up. She takes hers and a quick sip. “You know I’m not twenty-one, right?”

That catches me off-guard. Shit. I do a double take, this time my eyes going wide. “How old are you?” Maybe that’s why her mother was mad. Please be twenty.

“I’m twenty.”

Thank fuck. “When is your birthday?”

The sun couldn’t shine brighter than the smile on her face. “Three days.”

Even better. “Wait. But you were in the pub drinking.”

“No one ever cards me. Guess I look old enough.”

“So what you’re saying is I’m contributing to the delinquency of a minor?”

“Pretty much.” She sips her wine as if she’s challenging me.

I take a sip of mine before raising my glass. “I can live with that.” Tapping her glass against mine, I say, “From one delinquent to another. Cheers.” Our gazes remain on each other while we drink. When the glass is lowered, I add, “Don’t go getting drunk on me.”

“I can hold my liquor, big boy. Can you?”

“Big boy?” Laughing, I make a move, running my finger under the strap of her shirt. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Her fingers find the belt loops under my shirt, and she tugs me closer. Our bodies come together and she toys with me. “But I’ve felt plenty.”

Fuck me, she’s sexy as all fuck. My whole body reacts to her dirty whispers, my dick wanting free from the confines of these jeans. “I can’t cook in this condition.”

“What condition is that?”

“Horny.” I scoop her into my arms. “How about dessert for dinner?”

What has she done to me?

I can’t believe she made me say that.

Her arms encircle my neck and she kisses the edge of my jaw. “As long as it includes eating my baked goods.”

“Good God, woman. When you go dirty, you go all in.” Angling to look at her, I kiss her mouth as I carry her down the hall.

I bump her feet into the wall accidentally, and angle to fit us through the bedroom door. “Sorry about that.”

She’s too busy laughing to care, which makes me laugh. In my hurry to get to dessert, I toss her on the bed. The black fabric of her skirt billows around her as she lies lifted on her elbows, but I don’t want miss a single second with her. Standing at the end of the bed, I let my gaze slide over her exposed legs wishing that skirt had landed a little higher. “Show me your panties.”

Tilting her head, she smirks. “I’m not wearing any.”

Fuck. Me. “You can’t say things like that, Dove. Not to a man.”

Some fucked-up emotion—fear, worry, shock—digs into her sweet face. I fucking hate it. She should never feel anything less than true happiness.

“Did I do something wrong? I can put some on. I was trying . . .” Her voice lowers so much that I barely hear her even as I kneel down in front of her to keep her on the bed. Fuck. What did I say to cause her to react like this? “I thought you would think it was sexy, like in the movies.”

She’s so fucking innocent. Yet . . . a little broken.

How is that possible in this day and age?

“I do. That’s what I mean when I said you can’t say things like that.” I palm my cock, readjusting. “You turn me on.” Then I flatten my hands to the outside of her ankles and start a slow slide upward to prove how much.