Angel of Redemption (69 page)

He does, and I do
—barely. I stumble
in front of him while he strips my clothes from my body. We reach my bedroom,
and all I have left on is my underwear. They quickly disappear when Dean falls
to his knees and pulls them down my legs.

“You’re awfully eager,” I giggle.

“I want you so fucking bad,” he moans, kissing my
belly and standing up.

After removing the rest of his clothes, Dean
lifts me up easily. His hands find a place between my ass and my thighs and his
mouth never leaves mine. I barely get my legs around him before he’s lowering
me onto him. The feel of him sliding into me, filling me
—I’ll
never get enough.

“Jesus,” I gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders for
support.

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he murmurs while his
mouth trails down my neck. “Just let me do the work.” He raises me up and lets
me back down slowly. Holy shit. Gravity pushes him deep inside me. “Fuck!” he
breathes. His head rests against my shoulder for a second while my body adjusts
to him.

I tighten my legs, digging my feet into the backs
of his thighs and lifting myself off him again. He gets the hint and begins
moving me up and down his cock. Each time, I feel like I’m going to explode.
Dean is in absolute control, though. The way he’s holding me won’t allow enough
friction to build up, and, no matter how hard I try, I can’t do it myself.

“What are you doing to me?” I beg, panting as
little drops of sweat start falling down the back of my neck.

“Making it better,” he responds.

“Uh,” I whimper-whine. “Oh, God, Dean. Just let
me come, please.”

He laughs, and I sort of want to smack him. He’s
toying with me. If I weren’t so desperate for relief, I’d hop down and leave
him hanging.

“Am I better than Mr. Big?” he asks in a low,
seductive voice.

“Is that what this is about?
” I ask in
disbelief. “Yes, okay? A bazillion times better. Please stop being so mean to
me.”

He must take pity on me because all of a sudden,
my breasts are pressed firmly against his chest, and I’m bouncing up and down roughly.

“Shit!” he growls. His teeth clench, and he comes
violently. Fortunately, I’m there, too. After laying me on the bed, he collapses
on top of me. “Well, that motherfucking backfired,” he snorts.

“You’re an asshole!” I say, trying to push him
off.

He props himself up on his hands, hovering over
me. “You love it,” he teases, pulling out of me slowly.

We get ready for bed, neither one bothering with
pajamas. Dean has two pairs of sleep pants he keeps in my drawers, which are
really his drawers now.

“Are you feeling any better?” he whispers in my
ear as we lie together, his arms around me, his fingers rubbing up and down my
belly.

“Yes. Thank you,” I say softly. “I’m still
scared, though. I’m scared for Claire. I’m scared for Logan. I’m scared for
Matty.”

“Don’t worry about Matty, Kayla. We’ll take care
of him. Let Logan take care of himself. Focus on Claire.”

“I know. I’m trying.”

I fall asleep shortly after. I’m not sure what
time it is when I wake to the feel of Dean’s hand between my legs and his
tongue swirling around my nipple, but it’s still dark out. Once he realizes I’m
awake, he climbs on top of me and nudges my legs apart with his knee. He leans
down and kisses my mouth at the same moment he slides into me. I arch my back a
little and inhale through my nose. It feels incredible.

I know Dean likes it hard and fast. I know he
likes to hear the slap of our wet skin. He likes to hear me moan and cry and
whimper. But tonight he moves slowly and purposefully. His eyes roam my face as
though he’s trying to memorize every freckle and fine line. I have no idea how
long we go. It feels like forever, and it
’s still not long enough. The
build of my orgasm is intense, burning in all the right ways. The only time he
speeds up is when neither one of us can prolong the inevitable. I hold him as
close as I can, and we come together. I feel him pulsing inside of me while his
hot breath fans over my ear.

“I’m ready, Kayla.”

“Ready for what?” I ask, my mind foggy with
orgasmic euphoria.

“To be more. I want more. With you.” He’s still
moving in and out of me slightly, but I’m beginning to get too sensitive. I put
my hand on his hip to stop the gentle thrusting and push on him. He pulls out
and rolls, staring at me. His expression is a mixture of anxiousness and hurt.

“What?” I ask, my mouth dropping open.

“Never mind. Forget it,” he rushes out. “I’ll be
right back.”

He starts to get out of bed, but I’m not letting
him run away. I heard exactly what he said. I just want to hear him say it
again. I grab his wrist as firmly as I can to yank him backward, which ends up
propelling me forward instead. I fall into him, and he catches me in his arms.

“Do you really want me to forget it?” I ask once
I’ve stabilized myself.

He licks his lips and shakes his head. He looks so
young and nervous right now.

“Come back to bed,” I
whisper, pressing my lips against his. I tug him back. There’s no resistance
this time as he follows. “Stop doubting yourself, Dean. Stop doubting us. I
want more, too.”

Kayla

Dean and I wake up the
next morning much later than we should. I’m supposed to be in court at eight o’clock
for a hearing, so Dean makes toast with peanut butter while I’m showering. He
feeds it to me one bite at a time while I dress and rush around trying to find
everything I need. I can’t seem to stop smiling. We move so easily around each
other. It’s like we’ve been together for years.

We leave at the same time, and I kiss him quickly
as I climb into my car. We drive in opposite directions, me toward the city,
and him toward Wyatt House. He doesn’t even seem to go to his apartment
anymore.

The room where social workers and attorneys meet
to finalize and prepare court reports for presenting to the judges is like a
fucking zoo.
I spend my entire morning there, mostly just waiting.

When I get back to my office, Sara is talking
about one of her
new cases where the kids had to be physically pried
away from their mother at the end of her visit.

“It was heartbreaking,” she sniffs. “Mom’s
obviously an addict. The little one was hospitalized for getting into her
stash. Not a good home situation, but it’s still hard to watch that kind of reaction.
Sometimes I hate this job.”

By six o’clock, I’m dragging. I think I need
food. Fortunately, when I get home, Andy has dinner ready.

“I love you,” I murmur. “Don’t be offended if I
throw up, though, okay?”

“Why?” he asks, concerned.

“I’m so hungry, my stomach is all crampy,” I
whine.

“Sit down and eat, please. You’re going to need
it.”

I frown, thinking about where I’ll be in two very
short hours.

“Why did you have to remind me? Now I’ve lost my
appetite.”

“Shut up and eat. When’s Dean getting here?”

I shrug. “He had a crapload of meetings today. I
haven’t heard much from him.”

Andy sits down and puts a piece of broccoli in
his mouth. We eat in silence until I hear Dean’s car pull up. He knocks, but
doesn’t wait for us to invite him in.

“Hey,” he greets, sitting down in the chair next
to me and snagging a piece of steak from my plate.

“Hey. Get your own.”

He smirks and shakes his head. “No thanks. Ate
before I left.”

“How was your day?”

“Shitty. Just came from my parents’ house. My dad’s
pissed about Logan.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. He’s disappointed that Aiden and I
didn
’t catch what was going on. He’s been talking to the board about
awarding scholarships to Brayden and Logan. Brayden got accepted to Minneapolis
Community.” He’s not looking at me. I know something’s up.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Logan got an envelope from Dunwoody today.”

“And?”

“He got accepted.”

Andy lifts his head. “Really?”

Dean nods. I’m torn between feeling elated for
him and feeling like someone just ripped the rug out from underneath me.

“What’d he say?”

“He tried to toss it. Said it didn’t matter
anymore.”

I groan. “You didn’t let him, right?”

“Of course I didn’t. It’s in my office.”

“You know what? I can only handle one thing at a
time. Let’s get through tonight, and then we can tackle the rest of this
later.” Dean steals another piece of steak. “Seriously? There’s a whole other
piece in the kitchen!”

“No, I’m good.”

He sits and waits for us to finish our dinner. He
doesn’t try to steal anything else, which is good since I’m ready to stab him
with my fork if he does. The closer the clock gets to eight o’clock, the more
fidgety I become. I’m not ready to do this. I can only imagine how Claire and
Logan feel.

“Do you think he’s gonna show up?” I ask Dean
once we’re on the road.

“I would think that for Claire’s sake, he would.
Who knows?”

The question is quickly answered when we pull up
to The Carlyle and see Logan standing outside, leaning against his car. He
doesn’t look that bad. He’s wearing a nice pair of jeans and a button up shirt.

“You ready?” I ask, approaching him.

“No,” he mutters, his hands shoved in his
pockets.

“I don’t blame you. Just don’t do anything
stupid, okay? This is going to be hard enough on Claire as it is.”

Walking inside, the guard greets me. “Would you
like me to call up for you?” he asks, his eyes scanning both Dean and Logan
hesitantly.

I shake my head. “No, thank you.” I smile and
pull out my phone, texting Claire that we’re coming up. “See—just did
it.” I flash him my phone, and he waves us through to the elevator.

With each floor the elevator passes, my heart
rate seems to increase by ten beats per minute. I can only imagine how Logan is
feeling. I turn to glance at him. He’s looking down at his feet, which are
bouncing slightly, and mouthing words I can’t hear.

I wonder if this will be the last time I ride up
this elevator; if Richard and my mother will kick me out for good this time. It’s
possible. Somehow that doesn’t bother me. This place holds only bad memories;
memories of feeling worthless, abandoned, and ignored. Feeling like I was a
waste of space, nothing but trouble. I hate this place. I hate everything it
represents.

I don’t walk right in this time. I knock.

“I’ll get it,” I hear Claire’s voice call from inside.
The door flies open. She looks pale
—like she’s going to pass out.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“No,” she squeaks. “I’m scared.” Her eyes dart to
Logan, and I step aside. As much as I want to be the one to provide her
comfort, they are in this together. She needs him to stand by her more than
anything. I look away as she practically collapses into his arms. I’d give them
privacy, but I still don’t trust them to not take off. After a minute, they
release each other and she guides us in.

“Daddy’s not home yet.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing. We’ll start with Mom.
Maybe she can help defuse the situation.”

Claire shakes her head. “I don’t think so. She
usually makes him angrier.”

“What are you talking about?” Claire’s expression
does nothing to quell my sudden anxiety.

“Who was it?” my mother’s voice calls as we enter
the living room. She’s sitting, watching the news with a glass of wine in her
hands. Looking up, her brow furrows. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to help Claire.”

“Help Claire do what? Don’t try to tell me she
has more schoolwork. I ran into Headmistress Iverson this afternoon at the
hospital, and she said no more assignments are due.”

“Not homework, Mother,” I say formally.

“Then what?”

I look over at Claire. She’s holding Logan’s
hand.

“Um, Mama. This is Logan,
” she introduces
nervously. My mother remains quiet, but her eyebrows rise dramatically. “He’s
my boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

Claire bites her lip. I nod at her to continue.

“Um
… My boyfriend. Logan.”

Logan steps forward. “Hi, Mrs. Graeme. It’s nice
to meet you.” His arm stretches out, but my mom doesn’t move. She looks at it,
looks up at him, then at Claire. Finally, she looks at me and Dean.

“I suggest you say what you came here to say and
then leave,” she says coldly. “If my husband arrives home and finds you here
…
Well, I don’t recommend it.”

I don’t know what I expected, but I
’d
hoped my mother would be a little bit more open without Richard around. Guess I
was wrong.

Claire sighs. “Mama, Logan and I have something
to tell you.”

The front door slams loudly and heavy footsteps
approach. Richard appears, but stops the second he sees us.

“What the hell is going on here?”

My mother stands up quickly. “Richard.”

“Who are you people, and what are you doing in my
house?”

“Richard. This is Dean Wyatt. He runs The Wyatt
House Group Home for Boys,” I say politely and professionally, almost like I’m
talking to a client.

“And? What the hell is he doing in my house?” Richard
looks Dean up and down. We’re a good ten feet away, but I can practically smell
the disdain seeping from him.

“Sir, I’m here as acting guardian for Logan
Davidson,” Dean says. Richard looks confused.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” my mom
speaks up. “I think you all need to go home.”

“Who the fuck is Logan Davidson and what has he
done that requires his guardian to show up unannounced to my private
residence?” Richard spits.

Logan lets go of Claire’s hand and steps forward.
“I’m Logan Davidson, sir,” he says. His voice is strong, and there’s a hint of
agitation. I want to tell him to watch it, but I don
’t think that would
be helpful. Claire jumps to his side.

“Daddy,” she says softly. “Logan’s my boyfriend.”

Richard’s expression goes from confused to
amused. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Is this some sort of
…practical
joke?”

“No, Richard, it’s not,” I reply, even though he
wasn’t speaking to me.

“And how the hell does any of this involve you,
Kayla?” he sneers. There’s really no point in hiding it now. He’ll eventually
find out how I’m involved, who Logan is, and where he comes from. Might as well
get it all out in the open.

“I’m his social worker,” I answer flatly. Richard
glares at me, and then at Dean.

“I see.
” He looks over at Logan. “You’re
one of those trash kids with a druggie mother and an absentee father?”

Logan’s face hardens. “Yep. That’s exactly what I
am.”

“No, you’re not,” Claire protests.

Logan shrugs. “He’s just callin’ it like he sees
it, baby. He’s right. My mom’s a junkie, and I don’t even know who my dad is.
They both threw me away. Kayla’s been more of a mother to me than anyone else.”

“That’s not much better,
” Richard scoffs.

“Fuck you!” I snap.

“Kayla,” Dean puts his arm around my waist,
trying to comfort me. “He’s trying to rile you up,” he whispers in my ear. “Don’t
let him.”

“Oh.
” Richard snorts loudly. “This is
rich. The social worker and the guardian. Shouldn’t surprise me with the way
Kayla gets around. Hope you’re using protection.” I grit my teeth. This fucker
is about to get bitch-slapped. Dean holds me tighter, but I’ve had it.

“You know what,
Dick
?” I snarl. “I
have spent over half my life dealing with your arrogant fucking bullshit. What
kind of person tells an eleven-year-old she’s worthless? Or a fourteen-year-old
virgin that she’s a useless slut? You’re no better than any of the parents I
have to deal with on a regular basis. Insulting a child to make yourself feel
better? You’re the one who broke up a marriage—a family. You’re the
useless one.”

“Oh, don’t start this self-righteous shit,
Kayla,” Richard yells. “You have been a pain in my ass from day one. I wanted
your mother. If I’d known at the time that sleeping with her meant I’d end up
with you, I would have thought twice. I called you worthless because that’s
exactly what you are. You offer nothing to this world. You give hookers and
drug pushers second chances to raise kids just like them.”

“Hey, man,” Dean chides. “You need to cool it.
Try to have some respect.”

“Respect?” he barks. “For her? For you? Not
likely. Nice tally,” he spits, gaze shifting down toward Dean’s hands. “How is
someone who’s obviously been in prison allowed to mentor young boys, huh? I can’t
imagine you have anything to offer them. Unless you’re teaching them to be
thugs.”

Dean’s pissed
—I can tell by the way
his nostrils flare and his eyes darken. But he’s much better at holding himself
back than I am.

“Shut the fuck up!” I scream.

“Get out!” Richard roars. “And take your trash
with you.”

Claire steps forward and grabs Richard’s arm.
“Daddy, stop. Please,” she begs. He shakes her off.

“You’re grounded, Claire. You will not see Kayla
or anyone else I haven’t personally approved. Do you understand me?”

“Daddy,” she cries.

“Give me your phone.”

“Richard,” my mother finally speaks up.

“You stay out of this,” he commands. “I should
have fucking known that your kid would end up corrupting mine. I never should
have let her in this house.” He turns back to me. “I’m calling your
administrator first thing in the morning to report your encouragement of
…this.”
He grimaces as he looks at Logan.

“I didn’t encourage anything,” I deny.

“You are still a lying little slut. I hoped
someday you’d outgrow it,” he says condescendingly, “but apparently it’s a
genetic trait.” His eyes flash behind me. I glance back and see my mother. She
doesn’t meet my eyes. She just stares back at her husband.