"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking regretful like he'd never looked before. "God, I am so sorry."
Then he reached for her face. She eagerly reached back.
They made love right there, in the slow rain with no protection. No umbrella. No condom. Boston had been inside her without a condom before, but he'd always pulled out at the last moment.
This time, he didn't. He didn't even seem to realize he had nothing on to prevent a pregnancy. And Ellie was too glad he wasn't upset anymore to remind him otherwise. She didn't want him to stop. So, she held him close and continued to participate in the most erotic, prolonged event of her life.
He said sorry a few more times; she assumed he was apologizing for his mood the day before. It took her a week to learn there was so much more he'd been trying to beg forgiveness for. Yes, she found out exactly why he'd withdrawn from her the Saturday before. And it had nothing to do with her own failings.
She entered her American history class at nine the next Monday morning and was startled to hear a couple of girls mention Boston's name. They didn't just say Boston, either.
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They said Boston Kincaid. There was no way they were talking about someone else.
A chesty, lithe redhead by the name of Heather Grimaldi described him to a tee and went on to enlighten her friends how she'd picked him up at a party the week before. Then she bragged about how she'd gotten him to go back to her room with her. She hadn't been able to go into much more detail before she sighed with delight and slumped down in her chair, smiling dreamily at her companions.
"Oh my God, that man can kiss," she said. "He has, like, the softest mouth ever." Then she giggled and added, "I can't wait to see him again."
Sick to her stomach, Ellie jerked to her feet and raced from the classroom before the professor even entered to start his lecture.
Moisture running in droplets down her face, Ellie realized she'd unknowingly started to cry as she'd drifted off into sleep. Sucking in a tear, she wiped it away with the back of her hand and then reached out to stroke the still slumbering child's hair next to her. Her beloved Cassie, who'd been conceived in the rain, lay peacefully asleep. Focusing on that, Ellie reminded herself she had someone to truly love now. Life was still good, and she was still happy. The simple reappearance of Boston into her world wasn't going to ruin that. She wouldn't let it.
Hoping a good night's sleep would fix the little pity party she'd had when she'd crawled into bed with Cassie, Ellie woke the next morning with a headache. Sleep had fixed nothing.
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In fact, sleep hadn't even come. She'd just lain there, awake and miserable, listening to Cassidy snore.
Groggy and sore, she rolled off the small mattress and took her shower. She was cooking sausage links and toasting bread when her daughter stumbled into the kitchen.
"Morning, sweetheart," she greeted her, her back to Cassie because she was busy flipping the links and trying to press all the grease out of them with her spatula.
Cassie didn't answer, but she'd never been a bright and shining morning person, so Ellie wasn't concerned about it—
until she turned around to butter the toast. She slid a smile her daughter's way only to pause when she found the girl scowling.
"Honey, what's wrong?"
Cassie kept glaring. "You yelled at him again after he tucked me in last night, didn't you?"
Ellie's mouth fell open, speechless. "Yell" wasn't exactly the word she'd use for what they'd done.
"Why do you hate him?" Cassie said. "He just wants to be with me, and you keep pushing him away. Why do you want to keep my dad from me?"
Her daughter looked so tormented, Ellie's heart crumbled.
"Oh, baby," she said, dropping the butter knife and kneeling in front of the chair where Cassie sat. "No. I never wanted to keep him from you."
"Yes, you did too! You told him I was dead. You—"
"That wasn't because I wanted to keep him from you, Cassie. I..." She what? Suddenly at a loss for words, she stared at her daughter blankly.
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Had she wanted to keep the two of them apart? From the very moment Cassidy had been born, she'd been Ellie's.
Cassie was Ellie's one great accomplishment. Her daughter was her life and her world. Had she subconsciously been hogging that wonder all to herself? Had she purposely driven Boston away so she didn't have to share with him?
Cassidy was still staring up at her, waiting for an answer that Ellie couldn't give.
"Eat your toast," she mumbled and plopped the hard bread on her daughter's plate.
Cassie stared down and glared at her food, refusing to touch it.
And thus progressed their relationship. Three days later, Ellie felt like a damn recorder. Once again in the kitchen, mother and daughter filled the room with a hostile silence.
Ellie stuffed her mouth with a forkful of Hamburger Helper and chewed relentlessly, though it tasted like cardboard to her.
She scowled at Cassie, who sat slumped in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, refusing to eat. This argument they had going was proving to be their longest yet. When Ellie tried to corner Cassie and get her to talk, Cassie would turn around and ask Ellie questions about Boston that shut her mother up in seconds.
But Ellie wasn't sure how to tell her little girl she'd never meant to hurt her by pushing her father out of their lives.
She'd thought she'd been protecting her child, shielding Cassie from possibly having a dad who only regretted her existence.
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It became a battle to even get Cassie ready for school in the mornings. The child rebelled against everything Ellie told her to do. And so, the silence had started.
Worried about her daughter trying to starve herself, however, Ellie pointed her fork at Cassie's plate and growled,
"Eat your green beans."
Cassie glared at the plateful of food. "I hate green beans."
"That's why there're only three on your plate," Ellie reasoned calmly. "But they're good for you, so...eat."
"No."
"Cassidy."
"Why do you always tell me what to do?" Cassie snapped, jumping out of her chair and glaring across the table, her small hands fisted down at her sides.
"Hmm," Ellie answered with a thoughtful look. Pressing the handle end of the fork against her chin, she answered,
"Maybe it's because I'm your mother."
Okay, so this probably wasn't the best time for sarcasm, but she was sick and tired of all the antagonism already. She and Cassie had never quarreled this long before.
Cassie's chin quivered, she looked so mad. "Andy in my class," she said, staring straight into Ellie's eyes, "he lives with his dad. His mom was really mean, and he told a judge he wanted to live with his dad, so—"
"Well, that's not what's going to happen to you," Ellie interrupted, her skin going cold all over. But dear God. She hadn't expected her daughter to pull that kind of comment out of her hat.
"Why not?" Cassie asked, her jaw set and her eyes hard.
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"Because that's blackmail, and I won't allow it," Ellie said.
She quietly set her fork down as not to bring attention to the sudden shaking in her hands.
"What's blackmail?"
Ellie closed her eyes briefly. "It's using something against someone to get what you want," she answered, sending her daughter a warning look. "It's selfish and mean, and I'm not going to let you try it."
But Cassie looked determined, which caused a warning shot of fear to roar up the back of Ellie's spine.
"Why'd you keep my dad from me?"
"Cass—"
"Why?" Cassie screamed,
stomping her foot.
"I don't know how to explain it to you," Ellie answered as honestly as she could. "But I was thinking about you when I made my decision. I did what I thought was best for the both of us at the time."
Cassie didn't understand that answer. She shook her head.
"No, you weren't. You weren't thinking about me. I hate you.
I want to go live with my dad." She spun around and clomped down the hall to her room, slamming the door once she reached it.
Tears clogging her lashes, Ellie reached across the table, stabbed Cassie's three green beans and jammed them into her mouth.
[Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Nine
Boston Robert Kincaid was the son of an astronaut.
The day Boston told Ellie this tidbit, she gave him her virginity. Those two details didn't have anything to do with one another, of course. She didn't sleep with him because of his slight claim to fame. No, it was more the fact that he'd opened up to her about a part of his life that had seduced her into giving him her body.
He wasn't sure why, but Boston had held himself back on their first few dates. He usually didn't exercise such restraint.
If he wanted a girl and knew she wanted him, he pursued relentlessly. But for some reason, it seemed important to hold off with Ellie. He craved her with every breath, so a lacking libido wasn't the problem. It just felt better to tease first, to put it off for as long as he could. And it wasn't just her he was teasing.
Torturing her with restraint was fun, sure. He loved to kiss her until she clung to him, breathing with this little catchy sound that drove him insane, and then he'd pull away, run his fingers over her face and tell her goodnight. She'd just stare at him with that confused, adorable, dazed look of hers, wondering why he'd stopped.
Oh, yeah, he liked to tease Ellie. But teasing himself was just about as fulfilling. Or testing himself, as he called it. He wanted her, wanted her more than he remembered wanting anyone. So, he tested himself, to see how far he could go before he couldn't hold back any longer.
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He lasted two months.
They went out on their chaste dates at least twice a week—usually more—and he always, always kissed her goodnight. The best part: he was the one who usually pulled away and ended the kisses. He started them, and he finished them. And afterward, Ellie was putty in his hands...until the afternoon she pushed him past his limits.
Walking hand in hand—and Boston was proud of the fact that he'd just gotten her used to holding his hand—he escorted her up to her dorm room. He stayed behind her, dipping his head and kissing the back of her shoulder as she unlocked her door. After peering inside and discovering her roommate was gone, she invited him in.
He had her on her bed about two seconds after the door was shut and locked behind them. Twenty minutes later, he pulled the brakes and stopped the kissing. But he couldn't seem to pull away and leave. So, they just stayed there together, wrapped around each other on her small single-sized bed, thoughtfully listening to each other's settling heartbeats.
Boston closed his eyes as he ran his fingers up and down her arm and reveled in the softness of her cheek on his chest.
As much as his dick throbbed, primed for action, he thought he could fall asleep there like that—it felt so good to simply hold her.
From the silence, Ellie said, "Tell me something about you.
Something no one else knows."
"You tell me something about you," he countered, not wanting to talk about himself.
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"I asked first," she pressed.
He grinned even as he sighed in disgust. The woman's stubbornness could frustrate him to no end, but it was one the things he liked best about her.
"I don't know," he started reluctantly. "I can't think of anything that at least one person doesn't know."
"Just tell me something...something that makes you unique."
"Oh, now wait a second. You want me to confess something embarrassing, don't you? Something like I wet my bed till I was thirteen."
"Did you?"
"No."
She laughed and pinched his chest. Boston growled and rolled over on top of her to pin her to the bed. Snagging her wrists, he pulled her hands above her head and loomed above her.
She merely grinned up at him, looking like there was nowhere else in the world she'd rather be. A split second later, he forgot about paybacks. Need filled him, and he barely murmured, "I'm going to have to put those busy little hands of yours to better use," before he set his mouth to hers.
He panted, body straining for more, by the time he pulled away. Unable to properly catch his breath, he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. It was getting harder and harder to stop every time.
"Tell me something about you," Ellie urged again on a whisper.
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She was still under him, with his body fully on top of her, his engorged fly pressed between her legs. He couldn't stop thinking that if they were naked, he'd be inside her.
"Tell me anything," she said.
"Ah..." He blew out a breath. Concentration was nearly impossible. "My dad was an astronaut," he said, thinking it was probably the only unique aspect of his life.
"Ha, ha," Ellie said dryly and pushed lightly against his shoulder.
Boston lifted his face in surprise. "No, I'm serious."
She rolled her eyes. "What in the world would some astronaut be doing, living in Kansas?"
Boston sent her an unamused look. "Thanks a lot, El," he muttered. "I try to tell you something for real, and you laugh at me."
"Oh, pul-lease," she argued. "There's no way. You're so full of it." She frowned at him, clearly annoyed.
"Google it if you want to," he challenged. "His name's Lincoln Kincaid. He made two trips into space. You can find him on the NASA website."
She rolled her eyes. "There's no way the son of a distinguished astronaut would be living in Kansas and going to some public state college. No way."
"I'm going to Yale next year," he reminded her. "I've already been admitted. I only came to KU because it was just about the closest decent college I lived by."
"Whatever." Ellie pushed against his chest again as if she wanted him to get off her.
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"Why don't you believe me?" Boston asked, tightening his grip on her arms and not letting her get away.
"Because it's a ridiculous claim, that's why."
"You know what? It is a little ridiculous, so why would I make up a story like that? Especially since you can prove it right or wrong with a little Internet research."
"I'll tell you why. You want to impress me so I'll sleep with you."
Boston laughed. He glanced down at her heaving chest that was pressed against his. "I don't have to make up some stupid story to get that," he murmured. "You'll sleep with me anyway."
Ellie's eyes filled with outrage; she struggled a little harder to get free. But he merely leaned down and pressed his mouth to her throat. "I could've had you a month ago," he said and gave a husky laugh when she moaned and arched against him. "You know I'm right."
Giving up her attempts to break free, Ellie latched her arms and legs around him. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss. "Then why haven't you done anything about it?" she asked as her fingers found their way under his shirt.
"I'm trying to be...oh God...uh...patient. Yeah, I'm trying to be...damn, Ellie, what're you doing?"
He threw his head back and let out a moan as her hands undid his zipper after they'd removed his shirt.
"Patient?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the word.
"What for?"
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hungry Boston, she reached out and touched him through his boxers.
His body jerked, and he tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down. He stared up at her as she slid his jeans the rest of the way down his legs.
Ellie quietly repeated, "Why are you trying to be patient?"
Boston shook his head and gritted his teeth as she discarded his underwear next. "I don't know," was all he could think to answer. With her, fully clothed, leaning over a totally naked him and staring at his penis like she wanted to lick her way to the tasty center, he couldn't come up with one reason why he'd ever wanted to be so damn patient.
"Well, then," she murmured. "If you can't think of some earth-shattering reason why I shouldn't go down on you, then..." She glanced at his straining shaft. "Do you mind?"
Mind? His body bowed and his hands fisted around the sheets under him...and the woman hadn't even touched him yet. "Be my guest," he rasped.
Unable to help himself, his gaze followed her fingers as they slowly reached out. He started to shudder an inch before contact. When she finally slid one index finger down the full length of his erection, he nearly exploded.
Boston let out a groan, and Ellie's gaze flashed anxiously to his as if afraid she'd done something wrong. Her fingers snapped back to her chest.
"Don't stop!" he demanded, pleaded, begged in one breathless pant.
"S-sorry," she said and quickly wrapped her entire hand around him.
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Her fingers were cold like she was nervous, but he didn't care. He closed his eyes and let out a long, loud sigh. She stroked slowly, her touch soft and her grip loose. It drove him mad. In seconds, he was arching and straining for more. For harder, rougher, wetter.
"Ellie," he said in that pleading, demanding voice again.
Her eyes lifted once more, inquisitive. "Enough teasing," he bit out. He was going to push her hand aside and finish himself if she didn't hurry.
"Oh," she said and nodded. Thinking she was going to tighten her grip and quicken the pace, he was surprised when she leaned down instead and licked him from base to tip.