PIERCED - A Stepbrother Romance (13 page)

I wipe my mouth, and Lauryn’s arousal, against my arm. Her body is limp, almost melted into the mattress, and she’s trying hard to catch her breath.

“Your mom will be home soon,” I say, crawling up. I pull her up and into my arms, holding her as she comes down from her orgasmic high. “I’m not staying over.”

She whimpers, though she’s still wordless.

“I have to visit my mom,” I say, brushing her cheek with my hand. “And my plane leaves tomorrow morning.”

Lauryn nuzzles her face into my shoulder.

“My plane leaves at nine tomorrow from LAX. It’d be really great if I when I got to the terminal, you were there waiting.” My palm brushes against her bare arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps. I wait for her to speak, but all I get are soft hums. “I have to head out now.”

I don’t tell her I’ll see her tomorrow because I know the choice is hers. I’ve said all I can say. I’ve presented my case, and now the defense rests. Guiding her back into the barrage of pillows and blankets, I tuck her in bed and kiss her sweet lips. She kisses me back but says nothing, and I slip out under the veil of dusk and drive to my mother’s house.

***

“Hey, Mom.” I kick my shoes off at the service entry and head straight for the den. Knowing my mother, she’s doing what she’s always done late at night: enjoying a nightcap and listening to some classic jazz by the fireplace.

“Sutton!” She says my name with her trademark, breathless influence. Her face illuminates, and she runs to me with open arms, though one hand is clutching a crystal tumbler filled with a finger of Scotch. Funny how someone so light and airy can drink a man’s drink and make it look natural. “I’m so happy to see you.”

She buries her face in the crook of my neck, and holds me as tight as she can, standing on her tiptoes.

“I’ve missed you so.” She says with an exhale. I hope to God she doesn’t pick up a hint of sex on me. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you.” She leads me to a grouping of leather club chairs, Etta James’ softly wafting from nearby speakers.

“Will you be staying the night?”

“Yes, if that’s okay.”

“Of course, Sutty. Your room is all made up and ready to go. I just had Roxy put fresh linens on your old bed.” She smiles, but it’s a pained smile. She’s smiling through hurt and tears and trying to hide the fact that her world is crumbling. Mom takes a sip of Scotch and then another. A third sip empties the remaining liquid, and she rises up, heading toward the bar to pour another finger. “DeVonn moved out last week. We tried to make it work. He was willing to go to counseling, and he found one of the best counselors in Brentwood.” She takes a sip of her freshly poured drink before turning back to face me. “In the end, it was me.” Her mouth smiles but her eyes do not. “I was the one who decided to end things. Funny how things work out, isn’t it, Sutty?”

“I’ve been talking to Lauryn,” I say, figuring she’d welcome a fresh topic. I’m sure she’s been drowning in her own thoughts lately, mourning her former life.

Mom’s face brightens, even in the dimly lit den. “Lauryn? How wonderful. How is she?”

“She’s doing okay. Going through some things. Trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life.”

“I always did feel bad,” Mom says, taking a sip before continuing, “that my being with DeVonn caused a rift between the two of you. You two needed each other. She needs her father too. A girl always needs her father.”

“I don’t think she has any intention of reconciling with him.” My fingers form a triangle as I rest my elbows against my thighs.

“She’ll learn to forgive him as we all do.” She exhales, staring over my shoulder toward a bookcase full of trophies and red carpet photographs of my mother with various co-stars. Her looks have faded slightly over the years, dimming her star along with it, but the little things serve as a daily reminder that she was once relevant if only for a fleeting moment. “Tell Lauryn that forgiveness is not something we do for others. It’s something we do for ourselves.”

I’m sure a therapist gave her that nugget of wisdom, but it doesn’t make it any less true. She’s right.

“Lauryn’s hurting. It’s going to take a while to undo a decade worth of damage,” I say. “But I think she’ll get there.”

“Oh, honey, did I tell you they’re honoring me at the Annual Goldstein Gala?” My mother flits from one topic to another like a hummingbird flits from bird feeder to bird feeder. “I’m the guest of honor. It’s next month. The twenty-first. Will you care to escort me? I’ll need a date.”

I laugh. “Yes, Mother. I’ll be your date.”

She smiles and continues rambling on about how great it feels to be honored once again. She mentions something about a lifetime achievement award and then somehow that turns into a spiel about how she had to fire her decorator and ended up hiring college intern with more talent in his pinky finger than anyone she’s ever worked with combined.

I sit back and let her talk, and when she retires for the evening, I send Lauryn a goodnight text. I want her to know I’m always thinking of her.

Always.

I wash up for bed and set the alarm on my phone, mentally calculating my morning routine so that I’m not late arriving at the airport.

I check my phone one last time before shutting off the light.

No response.

It’s way too early to be up. This is not normal. This is not natural. I take scalding sips of hot coffee, letting it burn my throat on the way down. The faster it works its way to my bloodstream, the better off I’ll be. I’m still on east coast time, and this is brutal.

My foot twitches wildly. I’m nervous. I shouldn’t be, but I am.

I’ve secured a seat on a Miami-bound plane that departs LAX in less than an hour, and there’s no sight of Sutton yet. Knowing my luck, he cancelled his flight so he could harass me into coming home with him even more.

That boy is relentless.

I smile, finding his determination charming and amusing and admirable. The fact that I can admit that now, that I can be comfortable admitting Sutton Pierce is the best thing that’s ever happened to me speaks volumes. I barely recognized myself that morning as I got ready, but I have a hunch I’m going to love the girl I’m becoming.

Throngs of travelers make their way to their terminals in burst of people. A group of people chatting idly pulls my attention to my left. They take up the entire walkway, walking shoulder to shoulder, and I sit up in an attempt to see over them.

The moment they clear, I see him.

“Sutton,” I mouth, loving the way his name feels coming from my lips. I sit there, smiling like an idiot, and waiting for him to notice me. And then I rise. He steps in my direction, a leather messenger bag slung across his chest and a coffee in his hand. His hair is still shower-damp, and I can only imagine how delicious he smells.

His  lifts until he sees the terminal sign, stops short, and scans the area for a free seat. And that’s when he sees me.

I stand with bated breath, hoping for a hint or sign that he’s happy to see me. He doesn’t smile immediately. He doesn’t come running into my arms. This isn’t a movie scene.

He marches toward me and drops his bag at my feet. “You didn’t text back last night.”

My brows furrow. “I-I was sleeping. I had to get up early this morning.”

He still hasn’t smiled, and that’s concerning to me because we’re due to sit next to one another on this plane in less than an hour, and several hours sitting next to someone who suddenly doesn’t want anything to do with you is bound to feel all kinds of horrible.

Without warning, his hands find my jaw and he smashes his mouth upon mine. His kiss is unapologetically bold. He wants the world to know, once again, that I am his.

And I am.

I. Am. His.

“Ladies and gentleman, we will now begin boarding flight 352, non-stop to Miami. If you’ll…” the flight attendant’s voice booms over the speakers, and he peels his mouth off mine. We’re both gasping for air, and our lips curl in tandem.

“I’m going to need a place to live, you know,” I say. “I kind of quit my job.”

“You won’t have to worry about a damn thing, Lauryn.”

One Year Later

“Ah, look at that.” I flip to the back of the Miami Herald where an advertisement for a local used car dealership takes up the entire thing. “Cheapest cars in town. Nobody beats Dealy Dan’s Domestic Dealership. Did you know they’ll take any old trade-in? Even if it doesn’t run?”

Sutton removes his sunglasses, turning to me with a smirk as he finishes his bite of his breakfast bagel. “You want a new car?”

“No,” I laugh. “Look.”

I hand him the newspaper with my finger pointing to a photo at the bottom. Dealy Dan’s staff is pictured along with their cell phone numbers, and James’ picture is smashed right in the middle.

“James.”

Sutton brings the paper closer to his face, as if it can’t possibly be James. “No way. He wouldn’t work at a used car dealership…”

“I can’t imagine Colette DuBois hung around long enough to watch him fall to his social-status death,” I huff. “Daughter of an oil baron dating a used car salesman? I don’t think so.”

“He lost it all, baby,” Sut laughs. “I believe that’s what you call karma.”

The faint sound of a baby trails toward us, drifting on a breeze through the window of our next door neighbor’s house. It makes me smile, and I look over at Sutton. He’s smiling too.

“Soon,” he says. “I know you’re anxious to get started with that next chapter.”

“I know,” I say. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have baby fever something fierce. Something about knowing you’re with the most amazing person in the world, the person you’re going to spend your life with, makes waiting to get your life started unbearably tortuous. “I just want these next thirty days to fly by.”

“They will,” he says. “A month from now, we’ll be strolling the white sandy beaches of Turks and Caicos as man and wife.”

“So weird,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “Like I never thought you’d be my husband.”

Sutton drops the paper to the side, reaching for me and pulling me into his lap. Our breakfasts sit half-eaten on our patio table. The sun rises over the horizon, threatening to bring with it some humid Miami heat, but none of it matters.

“I knew. I always knew.” His sturdy doctor hands cup my face, pulling me in for a kiss. “I knew I’d find a way to make you mine eventually.”

“I never stood a chance, did I?” I laugh. “You’d never let me get away.”’

“Never.”

“Good.”

He kisses me again, longer, slower. Our mouths dance and our tongues flirt. He has to leave for work soon. Those babies won’t deliver themselves.

“Will you deliver our baby?” I ask, pulling away.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, when we have kids someday. Will you deliver ours?”

Sutton doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t pause or think about it. He shakes his head. “No, never.”

I arch an eyebrow. I’m truly shocked. What doctor wouldn’t like to deliver his own children if he could?

“I’ve always wanted to be on the other end,” he says, running his hand along my thigh sweetly. “I’ve always wanted to be at the head of the bed, holding my wife’s hand, keeping her calm, reminding her to breathe. I want to be surprised when the baby comes out, and I want to be snapping pictures from the moment the baby takes its first breath until it finds comfort in the arms of its mother.”

I wipe away a tear. “That’s some deep stuff, Sutton.”

For a tattoo-donning, cock-pierced, baby doctor, Sutton has proven, once again, that he can’t be pegged. He’s Sutton Pierce: one of a kind and strictly mine.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this,” he says, reaching for his coffee and pulling in a careful sip.

I rest my head on his shoulder and breathe in his soapy, showery fragrance. “I wish you could call into work today.”

He laughs. “We go through this every time. Doctors don’t get sick.” He kisses my mouth, tasting like toothpaste and bagel. “You need to get ready for work. Those kindergarteners need their fearless leader.”

I rise up, letting him stand and silently permitting him to go to work. I watch as he slips his keys into his pockets and waves before turning to head inside. One month from now, he’ll be my husband.

My everything.

But then again, he always was.

Maya Hawk is an attorney by day and a romance writer by night. She has a husband, two Siamese cats, a beta fish named Alpha, and is expecting her first child later this year. When not writing or lawyer-ing, she appreciates a good glass of wine, a perfectly grilled steak, or a trip to her local farmer’s market for some homemade, million calorie cinnamon rolls.

This was her debut novel, and she hopes you enjoyed it!

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