“Babe, you don’t get geometry, that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It just means you don’t get geometry. A lot of people don’t get geometry.”
That was a nice thing to say. But still.
Her eyes dropped down to the table. “I don’t get a lot of stuff,” she muttered at the paper.
“Reesee,” he called again and she looked at him.
That was when he did it. Leaned in and got super close. Super close. So close all she could see were his eyes!
“You get shit that matters,” he whispered.
“What?” she breathed.
“You said your Dad was happy. Aunt Dusty was tight with my Dad. They talked all the time. But she’s singin’ and dancin’ and laughin’ and bein’ crazy and it’s crazier than the usual way she does it. You gave her that.”
Clarisse blinked then she said quietly, “You helped.”
“It was your idea,” he reminded her then went on, “You read those diaries and you knew. So you did somethin’ about it. If you do that for your Dad because he’s a good guy and looks out for you, who cares if you don’t get geometry?”
She had to admit, he had a point.
So she smiled at him.
His eyes changed when she did. It seemed they were looking deeper into hers. Then his dropped to her mouth and her belly fluttered again.
Then he moved back a few inches and muttered, “But let’s get you to the point where you can get this enough that you pass this class.”
And she had to admit, if she passed this class, that would make her Dad happier.
“Okay,” she agreed.
“Now, work through it out loud,” he repeated.
Clarisse did what he said.
Fin caught where she was going wrong. He had to explain it three times through the next three problems but finally, she got it.
He moved to his English Comp homework but when he checked her work, she got only one wrong. And she’d worked through fourteen questions.
Clarisse thought everything about Fin Holliday was awesome.
Now she knew he was more awesome than awesome.
She didn’t know what that was. She just knew Fin was it.
* * * * *
Mike hit the button to disconnect his phone call from Dusty and looked across the desk at Tanner Layne but the question came from his side.
“Whipped?”
Mike turned and his eyes hit the huge, bald, muscled, tattooed, tank top in February wearing, scarily grinning Ryker seated at his side.
“Absolutely.”
The scary grin turned into an ugly smile.
Then Ryker announced with a jerk of his head toward Tanner, “His woman tells my woman she bakes great cakes.”
Mike did not want to do this with Cal.
He definitely didn’t want to do this with Ryker.
Therefore, he stated low and firm, “We’re not doing this.”
Ryker’s grin went satanic.
Jesus.
“Ryker, a little focus?” Tanner thankfully called from across his desk in his office where they were sitting and Ryker’s eyes cut to him. “McGrath?” Tanner prompted.
“I spill, I get cake,” Ryker declared, jerking his head to Mike. “Made by his woman.”
“Done,” Mike replied. “Now, McGrath.”
Ryker looked at him.
Then he laid it out. “He wants that farm, they’re fucked. Go to your woman, tell her and her family to pack their bags. They’re gone.”
Shit, shit, fuck.
“Explain,” Mike growled.
“He’s got ways. He’s got means. His business doesn’t cross my business so I don’t give a fuck. I go my own way. That don’t mean I don’t hear shit,” Ryker explained.
“And what do you hear?” Mike asked.
“That McGrath’s got ways and means,” Ryker answered.
Mike drew in breath, patience eluding him. He searched for it and with effort found it.
Then he asked, “Is he the front man?”
“Dunno. Don’t care enough to know.”
Tanner stepped in at this juncture. “I think, me askin’ you to sit here with Mike, you knowin’ the deal, you get that Mike cares enough to know.”
Ryker looked at Tanner. “Like I said, bro, I don’t know this guy. I don’t know, I stick my nose in, how he’ll feel about that. I stick my nose in, he gets unhappy in a way it ain’t worth cake, I’m unhappy.”
“Tellin’ me he’s got ways and means doesn’t buy cake, Ryker,” Mike told him and Ryker’s eyes came back to him.
“Then sweeten the deal.”
“Name it,” Mike offered and Ryker’s stare got intense.
Then he muttered, “Whipped.”
“Two boys with a dead Dad, a checked out Mom and a legacy they’re powerless to protect,” Mike returned. “You want cake, you want ten fuckin’ cakes, Dusty’ll bake ‘em. She grew up there, her Dad grew up there, her Dad’s Dad and she wants her nephew to work that land primarily because he wants that. We already established I’m whipped. Got no problem with that considering how that’s come about puts me in a good mood. What doesn’t is this bullshit. You can help, you jump in. You want to hold a marker, you got it. You want payback, you name it. You can’t help, don’t waste my fuckin’ time.”
Ryker continued to stare at him intensely.
Then he kept muttering to say, “Think I underestimated you.”
“Brother, anyone who doesn’t wear a tank top and carry a knife, you underestimate. Jesus,” Tanner clipped. “Stop yankin’ Mike’s chain. You in or out?”
Ryker studied Tanner then his bald head swung Mike’s way and he studied him.
Then he said, “Two boys with a dead Dad, one of ‘em’s the shit at playin’ ball, this makes me feel generous. But I get cake. And I need you, I call on you. Firepower without the badge. You with me?”
Shit, shit, fuck.
Mike took a deep breath focusing on sandwiches in bed that never included sandwiches.
“You with me?” Ryker prompted.
Mike held his eyes and replied low, “You call your marker, you burn me, I burn you.”
“Fair enough,” Ryker muttered.
“Then we got a deal,” Mike declared.
Ryker grinned. Again it was satanic.
Shit, shit, fuck.
* * * * *
It was ten to nine. It was dark. It was cold. Winter was dying, spring on its heels, the temperature was rising but the chill was still sharp.
And Fin shouldn’t do what he was going to do. He shouldn’t do it. Her Dad was a cop. Her Dad would be looking out. If her Dad caught them, he would get way pissed.
But he was going to do it.
She’d let him in, his Reesee. A little bit and then more and then more since her birthday party but today she gave it away.
She didn’t know how to work it. She was shy.
He liked that. He liked that someone as pretty as her could be shy. She could have any boy eating out of her hand and she had no clue.
No fucking clue.
Yeah, he liked that.
So he was going to do it.
And he did.
They were at her back gate and she turned to him probably to say good-bye.
He didn’t let her. He took a big step back, his hand already in hers giving it a tug. She wasn’t expecting it and lost her footing, fell into him.
He liked that too. She wasn’t expecting it.
Fuck, he was going to be her first kiss.
God, he liked that too.
Never having done it, not even knowing why he did, he lifted a hand to cup her jaw, using it to tilt her face to his.
He caught the surprise in her eyes even in the moonlight.
Yes. He was going to be her first kiss.
He dropped his mouth to hers.
She got stiff, he felt it and powered through it.
Never having done it, not even knowing why he did, he slid his hand from her jaw into her hair.
r />
Jesus, it was soft and so fucking thick.
He touched his tongue to her lips.
Probably in surprise, they opened.
He slid his tongue inside.
She made a little noise in her throat.
Seriously, he liked that too.
She stayed stiff then her body seemed to like, melt, or something, into his.
Jesus, God, he liked that too.
Before he did something stupid, he ended the kiss. Lifting his head away but not letting her go, he looked down at her.
Her face soft, her eyes a little hazy in a cute way, Fin thought she’d never looked prettier.
“Ask your Dad,” he muttered, “I wanna come over for dinner tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said and it was all breathy.
Yeah, unbelievably cute.
His hand slid out of her hair and he took his time, his skin liking the feel of it gliding through. Then, gentle-like, he tugged her hand in his and guided her back to the gate. He opened it and led her through. Then he led her up her yard. He heard her dog, Layla, woofing excitedly and he could see her shaking at the door.
He liked Rees’s dog. His family had one for years but she died a couple of months before his Dad did. His Dad had said they were gonna get another one, maybe two. He just never got around to doing it. Maybe they should get one. Something for his Ma to think about.
Mr. Haines was on the couch, arm wide resting on the back, head twisted, eyes on Fin and Reesee. Fin felt their sharpness even through the cold dark.
He lifted up his chin. Mr. Haines lifted his in return but didn’t tear his eyes away from Fin with his girl.
Parts of that sucked, obvious ones, but at least Reesee had a Dad who gave a shit considering her Mom didn’t.
He walked her up to the back deck to the backdoor and stopped. He squeezed her hand, looking down at her. She looked up still hazy.
Christ. So fucking cute.
“Dinner, tomorrow night,” he said firmly, giving her hand another squeeze.
“Right, Fin.”
“I liked you at my house tonight,” he told her, flat out. No more games. She wasn’t playing him. She wasn’t working it. She was shy. He got that now. It was time to throw that other shit away.
Her lips parted like she was shocked or something. Then she smiled.
“I liked it too.”
He was right. It was time to throw that other shit away. No more games. Mainly because she didn’t know how to play them and something in Fin said he never wanted her to learn.
He gave her hand another squeeze. “See you at school tomorrow.”
“Right,” she whispered.
“You sit with me at lunch,” he ordered and she blinked. “All through,” he finished.
“Uh…okay.” She was still whispering.
“All through, Rees. You want, I’ll meet you at your last class before lunch and walk you to the cafeteria.”
“I have Mrs. Layne.”
She wanted him to meet her there.
Good.
“I’m down the hall. I’ll meet you outside Mrs. Layne’s door.”
She nodded.
He squeezed her hand again and this time he didn’t release the pressure.
She held just as tight.
Then he whispered, “’Night, babe.”
“Goodnight, Fin.”
He let her go, looked to see that Mr. Haines still had his eyes on them and Fin gave him a chin lift. Then he gave Reesee a smile. She smiled back.
Then he tipped his head to the door to indicate she should go through. He didn’t start walking away until she was through, the door was closed and Layla was attacking her.
Then he walked home thinking he’d given Clarisse Haines her first kiss and thinking it would far from suck if he was also the guy who gave her her last with no one in between.
Chapter Thirteen
Sex Zone
I was on my back in Mike’s bed, Mike on me and in me, his mouth on mine and he’d finally gone full-throttle on the slow burn kiss.
Delicious.
Unfortunately, as it has to happen eventually so we could both breathe, his mouth broke from mine. His lips slid down my cheek to my jaw to my neck and stopped so he could work there. I liked the work he was doing so I didn’t move. Just let him be and let what he was doing with his mouth wash through me.
We were done. As usual, we were in Mike’s bed and we finished with Mike on top. Control. As creative as he could get, he brought it home with me on my back, knees shoved high, Mike powering deep. Now that it was over, I’d swung one calf in at his back and slid the other one down to curl around his ass. My arms around him, the fingers of one hand drifting over the skin and muscle of his back, the fingers of the other gliding through his hair.
If you told me I’d eventually have a guy who would end every session the same exact way, this would not thrill me.
Having a man who did that and that man being Mike, I loved it. I couldn’t wait for it. Knowing it was coming. The intimacy of it. The feel of it. The familiarity of it. It was Mike and I wanted to know everything about him, I wanted him to give me all of him and all of it was a treasure.
It was like coming home.
It was Sunday. Yesterday I’d had my day with Clarisse. This ended with Clarisse and Fin in the living room at the farm in front of a movie Fin rented and me playing video games with Kirby in his room so they’d have privacy. Rhonda, as usual, was hanging out in her room.
But Mike called this morning with the excellent news that No was unexpectedly off with some buds doing something and Rees was at some girlfriend’s house likely talking non-stop about how awesome Finley Holliday was.
Or I hoped so.
On Thursday, I had opened the door and Fin didn’t saunter through. He charged. Study-time, dinner and TV-time with Clarisse at the farm on Thursday. He went to dinner at Mike’s on Friday then left before Scary Movie Friday Night commenced. She came over for dinner and a movie last night. I was surprised today he hadn’t claimed her. Maybe he was trying to play it cool. Or maybe she’d had these plans with her girlfriend for a while and he didn’t want to cut in. Or maybe she was at her friend’s but they were texting non-stop because she didn’t feel she could cancel to be with Fin but they were still connecting.
The way I saw he’d snuggled her into him last night on the couch when I was on my way to the kitchen to get Kirb and me refills on drinks, my guess was door three.
Whatever way, it left Mike’s house free for hours and he wanted me over for “sandwiches”.
I hightailed it across the field without delay. It was lunchtime but we had yet to eat.
“I think you need to feed me,” I informed him and he lifted his head.
His eyes caught mine and his were warm, sated. Mike had beautiful eyes but they were never more beautiful than after we’d made love, he was still inside me, his body covering mine at the same time mine was wrapped around his and his eyes told me there was no place he’d prefer to be.
“I need to install a mini-kitchen in my walk-in closet,” he replied and there it was in his voice.
His eyes after we made love were never more beautiful, the same with his deep voice. It went lower, soft but rough at the same time silky. It was hard to describe. You had to hear it and with him on me and still in me, feel it.
That was the best.
“Well, until that day happens, I’m afraid we’re going to have to make the trek to the kitchen,” I returned and he grinned.
That was even better.
Then he slid out, which sucked. What didn’t suck was he rolled us both off the bed to our feet then he put a hand in my ass and gave me a slight push toward the bathroom.
He did this while muttering, “I’ll get you a tee.”
This surprised me.
It was one o’clock Sunday afternoon on a weekend when he had his kids. Mike was making sure they knew I was in his life, thus theirs. He was also slowly introducing them to PDA, be
ginning to give me lip touches, pulling me into him if we were watching TV on the couch, running his fingers along my waist or hip if we were both in the kitchen. But the depth of our intimacy he didn’t share in any way. No tongues. No making out. No stand up or sit down close cuddles.
So me in a tee with his kids in town and technically “at home” even though in reality they weren’t was surprising.
I headed to the bathroom, calling out my question, “So I take it the kids aren’t home for a while.”
“Rees is back at five for dinner. No is having pizza with his buds,” Mike called back in answer. “No won’t be home until at least seven,” he concluded.
Lots of time.
Excellent.
I cleaned up and wandered to my undies. I pulled them up and when I straightened, Mike was there with his tee. He had on a pair of jeans, all but the top button done up. When I yanked the tee on and he took my hand and led me to the closed doors, I realized he wasn’t just not done finishing his buttons, he didn’t intend to finish. Nor did he intend to don a tee.
Something about that was seriously hot. Then again, that was how Mike tended to be.
Out we went and once we’d cleared the door we had Layla jumping around us and whining. Then, possibly sensing our destination with doggie acuity, her excitement increased. Mike didn’t disappoint. When we hit the kitchen, he hit the cupboard and pulled out a long, thin, twisted rawhide. He tossed it into the hall and Layla scrambled after it. But once retrieved, she returned to the kitchen, settled in and started gnawing.
Double duty, Layla got a treat and Layla got busy not under our feet.
Mike went to the fridge, opened it and assumed the Universal Man Pose of standing and staring in it. Considering my experience with The Pose was that it went on for a while, I went to the counter and pulled myself up to sitting on it.
“Roast beef, chicken, turkey, swiss, munster, cheddar, mayo, horseradish, American mustard, dijon mustard, white and rye,” he called it down, finishing, “Or, peanut butter and jelly and I think we’ve got tuna.”
“Definitely the fridge of a family,” I muttered, grinning and he turned his head, his eyes coming to me.
“Pardon?”
“At home in Texas, I hit lunch, I hit crisis. Daily. You’d think I’d learn. Stock up. Especially since it happens every freaking day. I don’t. Lunchtime hits, I wander in from the shed knowing I’m on a fool’s errand. My choices are usually microwave popcorn or crackers and cheese.”