My body tensed as a horrifying thought crossed my mind. Would Jack be able to taste Isaac on me?
I grabbed tufts of his dark hair and yanked him up hastily. He laughed as he climbed up, but I quickly pulled his mouth to mine to silence him.
“Just fuck me, Jack. Fuck me now, and fuck me hard.”
His eyes searched mine, though I didn’t know what for. As I reached down to unfasten his jeans, a slow smile curled his lips, his blue eyes glittering with mischief.
He pulled my hands off his pants and pinned them to the mattress on either side of my head. “I will fuck you. And I will fuck you hard. But I will not fuck you now. I will fuck you when you’re good and ready.”
“Believe me, my body is ready,” I assured him.
He chuckled. “You know how much I love hearing you beg. But how about instead of telling me… show me.” He moved over so he was no longer on top of me. Now he was lying on his side, his head propped up on his hand. “Touch yourself.”
I breathed an internal sigh of relief as I slid my hand between my legs. I was not at all surprised to find that I was soaking wet, but I was surprised to find some slight irritation. Closing my eyes, I slid my finger out of my pussy and rolled it gently over my clit.
“That’s it, baby,” Jack leaned in and murmured in my ear.
I was so swollen and ready to be touched, I exploded within seconds. As he finished unfastening his jeans, he grabbed my hand and slid my fingers inside his mouth. He slurped up my arousal like a piece of juicy fruit. Then he kissed me. Hard.
I could taste myself on him, but I couldn’t taste anything else unfamiliar. Maybe I was blowing the whole thing with Isaac out of proportion. Maybe the moisture I’d felt between my legs as I leaned over the toilet was my own.
His tongue played with mine, our own private mating dance that no one else knew. I could hardly breathe as the longing to feel him moving inside me grew into a suffocating need. I needed him like I needed air.
Without warning, he got out of bed and began undressing. My heart raced as I watched him do this thing I’d seen him do a million times. It felt so brand new, yet still so mine.
I slipped my arms out of my robe and discarded it over the side of the bed. Jack sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard. I helped him slip a pillow behind his back.
“Come here,” he said, signaling for me to sit in his lap.
I stared at his erection for a moment, so smooth and thick and exactly the right length. Every nerve in my body sizzled with excitement. Pushing myself up on shaky limbs, I crawled on top of him. I straddled his thighs and his nostrils flared as I swayed my hips back and forth, leaving a trail of my scent over his skin.
He grabbed my waist and pulled me forward, until his cock was pressed against my abdomen. I grabbed the base and stroked the shaft, savoring the wild look in his eyes. I began to slide down to take him in my mouth, but he stopped me.
“Fuck that. I need to be inside you.”
Without warning, he picked me up and slid me onto his cock. A loud shriek pierced the air and echoed around us. Letting out a dry laugh, he pulled me toward him as I moved up and down. He laid slow, seductive kisses along the valley between my breasts, finding his way to my clavicle, tracing his tongue along the bone to my shoulder. All the while, I used the headboard to steady myself as I screwed him into oblivion.
My hips swayed, rolled, rocked, bobbed, they did everything and anything he wanted as he kissed my mouth, my neck, my shoulders, my breasts. Every part of me rubbed raw by the rasp of his stubble. Every breath I inhaled filled with the warm, distinctly male scent of his skin.
My desire dripped from me, a silky mess that covered his cock. He reached between my legs and softly pinched my clit between two fingers. I gripped the top of the headboard and moaned as he stroked me up and down.
“Oh, fuck!” I breathed. “I’m gonna come.”
“Kiss me,” he hissed.
And I did. I kissed him deeply and madly. As our bodies trembled in the final throes of orgasm, I held his face and kissed him as if it were our last kiss.
When I pulled away, as his erection twitched inside me, I leaned my forehead against his as we both attempted to catch our breaths. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. He held me tightly. So tightly. The way I wanted to be held. The way I needed to be held. And as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and buried my face in his neck, I began to lose sight of where I began and he ended.
With tears streaming down my face, I made a silent wish that somehow I would make the Earth spin in the opposite direction. I would turn back the clock so I could hold Junior one more time, and stop myself from making so many stupid mistakes. I imagined myself being pressed into the earth by the force of gravity as the world spun out of control beneath me. Then, Jack showed up and everything stopped. Time stood still and I could breathe again as the Earth released its merciless grip. I didn’t know much, but I knew if I asked him to, Jack would change the laws of nature for me. I had to be willing to move heaven and Earth, and the truth, for him.
I had to wait. I had to talk to Drea and ask her, beg her to tell me what I should do. I had to talk to Isaac and explain that, as beautiful and kind as he was, and though the chemistry between us was very real, I could never love anyone but Jack.
But before I did any of that, I had to take my morning after pills. And in a few days, I would take a pregnancy test, just to eliminate any future surprises.
If I wasn’t pregnant, I would tell Drea everything and ask for her advice.
If I was pregnant, by some cruel and ironic twist of fate, I would have no choice but to tell Jack everything.
Until then, I would savor these moments with him. I would hold him every chance I got. I would tell him and show him how much I loved him. I would do everything I should have been doing for the last two years.
And maybe if I held on tight enough, maybe nothing would ever tear us apart again.
Once Jack and I had packed my things and he’d thrown everything into the back of my SUV, he decided to make a run to the drugstore to get me some Dramamine. He didn’t want to take any chances with my safety, and the Dramamine would quell my nausea long enough for me to drive the Tesla home. As soon as I saw his truck disappear around the corner, I scrambled to the mailbox at the curb and opened it up. It was empty.
There must have been a problem with the order. I ran inside and found my phone on the freshly cleaned kitchen counter. Opening my Postmates app, I saw a notification that the order had been canceled. I opened my text message app and, sure enough, I had multiple text messages from Postmates.
* * *
Postmates:
We’re sorry, but company policy requires that an adult be present to accept delivery of certain medications. We are attempting to call you. Please let us know if you would still like to place this order.
* * *
Postmates:
We’ve tried contacting you and received no response. If we do not hear back from you in the next few minutes, your order will be cancelled.
* * *
Postmates:
We apologize for the inconvenience, but your order has been cancelled. Please try again later.
* * *
I stared slack-jawed at the messages as I realized I was officially fucked.
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BLOOM
Evergreen Series #3
Part 1
PULLING WEEDS
“Lies are like weeds. Given enough time, they will outgrow even the most beautiful flowers.”
Chapter 1
Laurel
Twenty-four years ago
&nb
sp; The sun made all the flowers in Mommy’s garden look like they were glowing. I sat down on the grass and dug my fingers into the warm dirt at the bottom of the rose bush. Mommy loves roses. I should pick some for her.
Daddy said Mommy would be coming home today. She’s been gone forever! It feels like she’s been gone for years. Daddy said she’s only been gone a few weeks. But when I asked him how many weeks is a few, he said it was more than I could count and I would learn that later. I can’t wait to start first grade so I can know how many weeks Mommy was gone.
Daddy said she was visiting Grandma and Grandpa in Iowa, but we couldn’t go with her because she’s too busy. She’s taking care of Grandpa. He’s sick.
Mommy takes care of me when I’m sick, too. She makes me chicken soup and gives me yucky medicine and takes my temperature.
I miss my mommy.
But when I reach for the rose to pick one for Mommy, something bites my hand. I scream loudly and start to cry when I see a giant monster tooth stuck in my thumb. Daddy calls my name as he runs outside and picks me up.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He grabbed my hand and I tried to pull it away, so he just grabbed my arm. “Oh, no. Let me take it out.”
“No! It hurts!”
Daddy put me down on the grass and kissed my hand as he pushed my hair out of my eyes. “I know, pumpkin. That’s why I have to take it out. Can you hold still? I promise I’ll do it really fast. Okay?”
BETH
* * *
As the taxi pulled up in front of the house, my stomach went rigid at the sight of my coral-pink roses in full bloom behind the garden fence. I trimmed the blooms shortly before I left Portland. In a moment of desperation, I asked Mark if he could trim the roses after the next re-bloom. He was still so angry, he couldn’t even acknowledge I’d asked a question.
I expected to come home to dead roses, which would be a depressing parallel to the state of my marriage. Yet somehow, while I was at a friend’s house, serving my sentence for betraying Mark, he had found it in his heart to care for my garden the way I knew he would take care of Laurel in my absence. I didn’t know if this made me feel more relieved or ashamed.
I reached into my maroon leather handbag and handed the taxi driver a couple of twenty-dollar bills. “I don’t need any change. Thank you.”
He took the money and quickly shifted the car into PARK. “Oh, thank you very much. Let me get your bags.”
As the driver and I exited the car, Mark seemed to pop up out of the garden as if he’d been hiding behind the fence. Our eyes met for a split second, before he bent over and scooped up Laurel. The delicate skin on her cheeks and eyelids were flushed pink, as if she’d been crying, and just the sight of it brought tears to my eyes. Mark whispered something in her ear and she spun her head around, her blonde hair whipping his face.
“Mommy!”
Mark set her down gently and opened the garden gate so she could run to me. I dropped my handbag on the sidewalk and fell to my knees as I pulled my baby girl into my arms.
“Oh, sweetie. I missed you so much. Did you miss me?”
“Mommy, you’re squeezing me too tight,” she complained in that silvery voice that reminded me of wind chimes.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” I said, loosening my hold on her so I could reach up and brush a glistening tear track from her pink cheek. “Mommy is just really happy to see you. Were you crying?”
She held up her hand, sticking her thumb out to show me a prick of blood. “The roses bit me.”
I chuckled softly, keeping my gaze focused on her hand as Mark stepped past me to grab the suitcases the taxi driver had left on the curb. “Roses don’t bite, Laurel. Roses don’t have teeth. They have thorns. You were pricked by a thorn. It hurts, doesn’t it?”
She nodded her head. “Why did it hurt me?”
My heart raced as Mark stopped just inside the gate, presumably awaiting my answer. “Because, sweetie, roses have thorns to make it harder for other animals and people to hurt them. It’s a defense mechanism.”
She scrunched her wispy blonde eyebrows together. “The rose hurts me so I can’t hurt the rose?”
Mark let out a deep sigh and continued carrying the suitcases up the path toward the front porch.
I laid a soft kiss on the pad of Laurel’s tender thumb. “Exactly.”
Present Day
As I recalled the months my mother spent in “Iowa” with my father’s parents, when I was five years old, Jack’s words echoed in my consciousness.
Beth put the baby boy up for adoption… She stayed with a friend during the last few months of her pregnancy… The baby was born on June 16th, and Beth declined to have a sample of his blood drawn for a paternity test… Brandon was adopted by Byron and Dottie Huxley, who moved to Boise shortly after his birth… Brandon had behavioral problems, which were only made worse when Dottie was murdered.
“Laurel, are you okay?”
Jack’s voice sounded distant as I stared at the rustic iron chandelier hanging above the dining table. The sparkling lights ricocheted off the crystal pendants, twinkling in my vision, lulling me into a trance as images of destruction and horror flared in my mind. All the physical and emotional wreckage I’d been running from; all the visceral, paralyzing agony that had rendered me incapable of performing even the most basic tasks; all the destructive coping mechanisms that led to the sickening moment I betrayed Jack; it all stemmed from one repulsive act of evil committed by my own flesh and blood.
I needed to get those morning-after pills. I couldn’t bring a child into a world where that kind of cruelty existed.
Earlier today, as I drove my Tesla SUV back to our home in Hood River from my mother’s house in Southeast Portland, I had thought of taking any of the dozens of freeway exits to stop at a drugstore. But Jack was so worried about my hangover, he drove right behind me the whole way home. He’d taken the time to buy me a couple bottles of water and watched me swallow an anti-emetic tablet for the nausea before we left.
I wiped tears from my face as I stood from the dining chair, trying to ignore the weakness in my limbs brought on by the hangover and only exacerbated by the Dramamine and the news Jack had just delivered. There was no time to sit down and digest this new information properly, not while there was even the slimmest possibility that I could be pregnant with Isaac’s child.
“Laurel, are you okay?” Jack asked again as he followed me toward the laundry room. “Where are you going?”
“I just need to go to Walgreen’s for some tampons. I forgot them in Portland.”
He grabbed my hand to stop me from entering the laundry room. “You’re not on your period. And you’re not even feeling well. If you need some, I’m sure there’s still some left in the bathroom. It’s not like I cleared the place out while you were gone.”
I stood at the threshold, my hand gripping the cold steel door handle. “But I’m…” I couldn’t think of a single believable lie. I was either too dehydrated or emotionally overwhelmed for my synapses to fire properly. Or maybe I was just a terrible liar. Probably all of the above. “I’m tired,” I replied, looking up at Jack, my stomach clenching at the skepticism in his narrowed eyes. “And thirsty. I think I’m a little delirious. I should lie down.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
As Jack’s eyes softened and he took my hand in his to lead me toward the bedroom, I felt the small reserve of stamina at the core of my being spill out and drain from my limbs. I didn’t have the energy to lie. How could I muster the strength to tell the truth?
I could barely hold my eyelids open as Jack turned down the covers and the sheets for me to climb in bed. As he helped me out of my Burberry rain boots, leaving my wool socks in place, I reached for his face. His scruff scraped the pads of my fingers, a familiar sensation that sent a chill over my skin. I took his face in my hands, closing my eyes to savor the warmth of his skin against my palms.
Then a terrible thought flashed in my mind: What happened w
ith Isaac would never have happened if Jack had set aside the hunt for Brandon and come back to me sooner.
I crossed my arms over my belly and curled inward on myself as I tried not to let the idea take root. It was a poisonous thought, which would only lead to more resentment and more anger and more fighting. All those things were the old way. The old way didn’t work. That much we had established.
Jack cupped my face in his hands and tilted it up to look in my eyes. “Baby, are you okay? You’re scaring the fuck out of me. Do you need to go to the hospital?”
Maybe that was the answer. Maybe I could tell Jack I needed to go to the emergency room. Then I could tell the ER staff that I was severely hungover and possibly dehydrated. And as soon as Jack left my side to use the restroom or get a coffee, I would ask someone for emergency contraceptives. They were required to keep that information confidential, weren’t they?
Oh, God. I didn’t know.
I had to accept that I had two options and two options only. I had to tell the truth or wait. In a few days, I’d be able to take an at-home pregnancy test. Until then, I’d just have to live with this secret and know that I deserved to let it slowly eat away at my insides.
“I’m fine,” I whispered. “I’m just so tired of all the bad news.”
“But it’s good news that they got him,” he replied.
Part of me wanted to argue with him. How could learning that my biological brother murdered my son and my mother — then killed himself — be good news? But to Jack, it was good news because justice had been served. For Jack, it was always about justice. Justice came before everything. Even me.