Whiskey Sharp_Unraveled

  “So deep,” she whispered as he continued to fuck her.

  “I’m driven to be as far into you as I can be. You’re so hot and wet I never want to leave.” Alexsei underlined that when he kept his pace even as he palmed her nipples.

  Maybe liked to come. Who didn’t? But she wasn’t one for multiple times and certainly not so close. But there she was, her body slowly but surely falling, gaining speed. Helped along when he slid his palms down her belly and the pad of his thumb found her clit and began to circle it.

  “Yesyesyes,” she urged, climax growing like a storm until it took over, making her twist and arch against him.

  With a final growl, he took hold of her hips as he thrust over and over and over until he went still, his gaze locked on hers as her climax echoed around his.

  * * *

  AFTER HE GOT rid of the condom and got back to his bed, there she was, rumpled, sex messy in his sheets.

  “You look like a firebird with your hair that color.”

  His thigh muscles burned and every once in a while they spasmed and jumped. But it wasn’t the physical exertion that had shaken him to his core, but the way they clicked so deeply.

  Wrapping a forearm around her, he hauled her to his body and she came with an easy, sated sigh.

  “That was pretty much a million times better than I’d imagined. And I’d imagined it a lot and very well.”

  He smiled against the back of her neck, amazed that she made him so happy.

  “I’m glad I could meet your standards.” As for his reaction? He wanted to roll her up in his blankets and not leave bed for the next few days.

  Maybe was every bit his match in bed. As much as she seemed to be out of it, he realized.

  “If you stay, we can have morning sex. This is appealing, no?” he said.

  Her laugh was lazy. “It’s very appealing. But I can’t stay over. I need to get back home.”

  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  Maybe turned in his arms to face him. “There are things I need to do to keep Rachel in a good place. I don’t sleep away from our house. She worries too much and then she can’t sleep. If I’m there, once she’s locked up, she can not only sleep, but she can get the rest she needs to stay healthy.”

  Alexsei respected that she protected her sister the way she did. And he believed he’d do the same in her place to be sure his siblings were all right.

  “I know it seems weird. But she’s...”

  Alexsei shook his head. “No. It doesn’t seem weird.” He couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like in Rachel Dolan’s head after all she’d endured. Now that he’d had a taste of Maybe, it wasn’t as if he had plans to let her go. There’d be more time to work these logistics out as they went forward.

  Maybe smiled at him and then snuggled a little closer. He was absolutely all right for the first time in a while.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RACHEL POURED EACH of them a mug of coffee when Maybe came into the kitchen the following morning.

  “Morning-after-sex glow totally works for your skin tone,” Rachel told her as she added milk.

  “It was pretty spectacular. I might be glowing for a few days.” She grinned.

  “Ha! Well good. Tell me all about it while you scramble up some eggs.” Rachel pointed to the carton on the counter. “Pretty please.”

  Maybe cracked eggs, whipping them up, adding a little milk to them as the pan heated.

  “He took me to the movies. An action film even. Then he took me to a restaurant I’d been talking about wanting to try.” Maybe tipped the bowl of whipped eggs into the pan.

  “So you pretty much knew right then you were going to let him put his penis in you,” Rachel said, making Maybe guffaw.

  “You know me pretty well. I mean, it wasn’t like I didn’t stand firmly in the fuck-me camp before the date. But he raised the bar pretty high.”

  “I was surprised when you came home. I figured you’d stay over.”

  Maybe pointed at the toaster. “Get the toast out, please. You want melted cheese on your eggs?”

  “It’s like you don’t even know me, Maybe. Yes. I want cheese. I put the salsa out too.” Rachel made quick work of the bread and they joined one another at the table for breakfast.

  “I don’t sleep over. You know that. But if you were okay with it, I could invite him to sleep over here from time to time.” Maybe didn’t want it to be weird or scary for Rachel, but it would be a move in the right direction if she was okay with it.

  Rachel needed to expand her world little by little and she’d made a great deal of progress since she’d walked out of the last hospital and Maybe had been waiting for her, ready to move them both to Seattle.

  “I think that would be okay. I like him. I trust him.” Rachel started to say more, but shifted her attention to her food instead.

  “He’s cool with the rules. He was here before and we know he puts the seat back down and locks up after himself.” Maybe kept her tone casual.

  Rachel’s shoulders lost some of their tension.

  “So there’ll be more then? I mean, he’d be a fool not to try to snap you up and all.”

  “We’re seeing each other. I think I’m cool with that for now. I’m hoping there’ll be more because I like him. But there’s no harm in taking things slow and steady.”

  Rachel shrugged. “Makes sense I guess. You’re not usually a slow and steady gal, but in this context it’s probably good. I get the feeling though, that Alexsei doesn’t let go once he’s got something good. And you’re something good.”

  “You’re full of compliments today. That must have been some call with Mom and Dad last night.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “I should have served mimosas for this. Yes, it was quite the conversation.”

  Maybe gave her sister a look. “You want to elaborate?”

  “It’s just more of the same.”

  “Ah, so it was all blame Maybe for everything?”

  “I’m sorry they’re dicks,” Rachel said. “I know it’s what drove you away to start with. I know you’re only dealing with them for me.”

  “Fuck them. If you want to go over there on Thanksgiving, we will. If you don’t, we won’t.”

  “Part of the call was their reaction to my telling them we were headed over to Spokane for Christmas.”

  Maybe gave Rachel a narrow glare. “You might as well tell me everything. You know he’ll call me to deliver his disapproval one way or the other. I should know up front.”

  “They brought up me moving in there. Again. I said no. Again. Then they asked me to spend Thanksgiving weekend there.”

  At Rachel’s pause, Maybe knew it had been an invitation solely for her sister. Which was pretty okay on most levels. It wasn’t as if she wanted to go, or would enjoy herself if she did.

  Rachel continued before Maybe could speak. “It’s one of their manipulative moves to exclude you and get me alone. For what, I don’t know. It’s not like I’m going to change my mind after sleeping in the weird shrine to my old life they call my room. I never even lived in this house they have now. I said no. I said that I thought it was hurtful that they continually excluded you and they said all the same things. Basically, it was the same conversation we always have. I threatened not to come at all, but she started to cry and I gave in.”

  “Okay. It’s okay. It’s good for me to know before he calls me today while I’m working.” That was his pattern. He didn’t respect Maybe or her job. Hell, he didn’t respect Rachel’s job either, though he’d never call her to lecture her while she was at work.

  A call that came in just as she’d finished with her final client for the day and had begun cleaning her workspace. Maybe saw the number on the screen and sighed before answering.

  “Hi, Dad.” She attempted to remain positive, know
ing it could turn any moment to something less pleasant.

  “Where is your sister?” he asked.

  “Uh?” She glanced at her watch. “She’s at work just now. Is there a problem?”

  “If you must know, we had a very abrupt discussion about Thanksgiving dinner and your mother is worried.”

  She thought it was always a bad idea to encourage her mother’s sense of panic over just about everything Rachel did or said. “About what?” Maybe asked carefully.

  There was a long enough silence that Maybe looked at the screen to be sure she hadn’t mistakenly hung up on him.

  “We realize you’re most likely behind her shortness with us, but we’re her parents. It’s perfectly normal to be concerned,” he said at last.

  She ground her teeth together and searched for patience. Alexsei appeared to have noticed her body language and moved to her, standing near with a question on his face.

  Maybe shook her head and waved him off. It wasn’t anything he could fix. Instead of wandering away though, he frowned and plopped his fine ass right down in her chair and continued listening openly.

  Daring her to say otherwise.

  She went hot all over at the look on his face. Commanding. Arrogant and yeah, concerned.

  “She gave you her answer. She might be less abrupt if you listened to her from time to time,” Maybe told her father.

  “The problem is, Gladys, you’re in her head.”

  “Jesus. Dad.” He used her given name, one she hated, to fuck with her and she was done. “You do remember Rachel was one of the most qualified and commended FBI agents ever, right? She’s not stupid. She’s surely not going to be manipulated by me. Or you. So, as I’ve said to you in the past, if you just listened to her and treated her like an adult, she’d stop trying to resist you so hard.”

  It was so simple it made her pissed off that they refused to even try it. Apparently blaming Maybe was easier.

  “She was never disobedient until she started living with you. She should have come home, not moved two states away.”

  “She’s thirty years old. There’s plenty of disobedience in her. It’s what kept her alive when Price had her locked in his basement of horrors. Now, I’m busy. I’m at work and I’m done listening to you berate me. If you want to talk to her, try treating her better.”

  Maybe disconnected, putting her phone into her back pocket with a sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” Alexsei asked.

  “Nothing. Stupid family stuff. We all have it.” He had that thing with his mom, didn’t he? It wasn’t like it was that unusual.

  He continued to stare at her, one eyebrow slowly rising.

  “Overbearing dudes aren’t my favorite flavor,” she snapped, irritated.

  His smirk told her he knew how full of it she was when it came to her feelings about him and, heaven help her, irritation warmed into something else.

  “I’m not overbearing. I’m simply not so weak I’d let you wave whatever is upsetting you away,” he said easily.

  “It’s just how things are with my parents. It’s always upsetting. Much like this conversation.”

  He laughed. “Zajka, you’re no fool and you’re nowhere near upset with this conversation. What are you doing after you’re done today?”

  Maybe took him in warily. “I’ve got band practice for a few hours.”

  “May I come along and watch? I like to see you when you’re playing music.”

  “Really?” Flattered, she tried to pretend it didn’t matter, but it did.

  “I say what I mean,” Alexsei told her.

  “Okay. I’m done in about two hours. Practice is at my house. In the basement.”

  “I’ll drive you home then.” He gave her one last look before turning his attention to a waiting client, who followed obediently to Alexsei’s chair and sat.

  Maybe texted her sister quickly to let her know what had happened with their father and to remind her there’d be musicians in her basement that night, accompanied by a surly Russian.

  Maybe hadn’t let a guy she was seeing come to practice. It seemed more intimate than kissing, letting someone see her in such a raw, exposed way. They could get messy and sweaty and make mistakes, but it was all okay.

  She knew they’d never make it big. None of them really wanted that. Each of them loved music and they loved playing it together. So they did and had the occasional gig.

  For Maybe it was all about the joy of expression. Music had been her lifeline growing up the odd duck in a household of swans. Or, no, like rigid swans, whatever bird that would be.

  After a bad day she could fall into her favorite bands, headphones on while she did homework and tried to pretend she’d been adopted. The drums had been, at first, a way to irritate her father, who’d insisted she had to take music lessons just as Rachel did.

  There’d been no room in the orchestra for her except in brass, and her dad had flat-out refused to let her play tuba or trombone. Rachel had tossed out that the middle school jazz band teacher gave lessons and her father had insisted that be her path.

  He hadn’t found out she’d started with drum lessons until she’d begun to practice all the time. Everywhere. She drummed on the staircase, on her desk, at the kitchen table and that’s when he’d finally asked and flipped his shit.

  Drums were noisy and they wouldn’t get you into college—neither had Rachel’s flute playing, but whatever—they were something low-class people played. Richie Dolan hated anything he perceived as low class.

  She’d responded that he’d been the one to insist she take lessons. That she’d done everything he’d asked and he’d shot down the other ideas she brought his way before he’d ordered her to take lessons. Since she was indeed taking lessons, she’d obeyed like she was supposed to.

  Either way, she’d have gotten what she wanted. If he made her quit the drums she wasn’t going to take any lessons at all. And if he realized that and let her keep going, she got to play drums, which she’d discovered she really loved to do.

  It hadn’t been the first—or the last—disagreement between them. Her parents had thought of anything she’d done as somehow about them. When really, most of the time it was about Maybe and who she wanted to be.

  Over time, as she got older, his anger became more and more pointed. It had often felt as if he hated her. He most certainly hated her independence and fire and was bent on breaking her down.

  It built, over her tween and early teens with some big bumps in the road, until five years later, at sixteen, when she’d left them the same autumn her sister had gone off to college. Knowing Rachel wouldn’t be there anymore had left her feeling isolated and fearful at what life might be like without that buffer and the only person she actually felt safe with in the immediate family.

  Their arguments, while always about control, had gotten increasingly centered on her appearance and physical development. She had big boobs and curves. By the time she was twelve she had the body of a much older woman. And an experience at fourteen only seemed to cement in his mind that she was somehow using something as innocent as what parts she came with as some sort of lure.

  So, of course Maybe had spent time at after-school activities, they got her away from home. With people who wanted to be with her. Who saw her potential. Yes, she’d had boyfriends, but so had millions upon millions of other kids her age. So had Rachel, for that matter, when she’d been Maybe’s age.

  Every single day they’d been so angry at her. And she’d never, ever figured out why. She’d tried and tried to fix it and after a six-month period she’d be happy never to think about again, her aunt had picked up the phone when Maybe had called her from the Greyhound station. Robbie had offered her not just a place to sleep, but a home.

  Once she’d moved to Washington State, her parents had backed off a little but were still never totally satisfied wi
th anything she did, even when she brought her grades up to the honor roll.

  And with her move, she’d created a bond with her aunt and uncle that sustained her to today, even as she knew it caused tension between her father and his sister. Though she had no idea why, it wasn’t as if they truly wanted her to move back home once she’d gone.

  And they certainly didn’t now.

  They’d made it clear they didn’t want her, but didn’t want anyone else to want her either. That her own parents seemed to feel that way still hurt even though she wished it didn’t. Even though she had her aunt and uncle. Her sister.

  A hand on her shoulder startled her back from her memories. Her next client had arrived and she needed to get herself focused. The past was gone and she had a present to live. There was nothing to be gained by thinking about all she couldn’t have when she already had so much.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ALEXSEI KNEW SHE’D been upset by her parents. He’d heard bits and pieces enough over the years he’d been her friend. Understood there was a battle centered around control of Rachel’s life.

  It seemed, the longer he’d known Maybe, that her parents’ biggest problem was that they didn’t appear to have much affection or respect for their youngest child and a lot of affection and no real respect for their oldest.

  One of the things he admired most about Maybe was her dedication and loyalty to her sister. He knew she put herself in the way to give Rachel a break, but it pissed him off to think she had to.

  So when he’d watched her face fall, he knew inside—though she’d deny it and play tough—that it took a toll on her to have to manage all that negative interaction. She was a badass, without a doubt. But she had a big heart. He’d known that long before he’d begun to put the pieces together about her parents.

  Maybe deserved to be loved and protected, not held off at arm’s length and scapegoated.

  They headed from the car he’d parked in his aunt and uncle’s driveway over to her place, but there was a dog in between.

  Maybe let out a sound, a happy squeal of greeting as she went to her knees. “Hey there, Barky! This is Barky, he lives across the street but he can’t be tamed. Oh no, he can’t be tamed because he’s a man on the prowl. He tunnels under fences and runs out of doors. He’s a rebel all fluffy in his winter coat, looking for a lady to love.” She sang, rather than spoke the sentences, managing to sing them out and make them into a song about winter coats and dogs on ice skates.