Between the Cracks (5 page)

Her fingers skimmed my jaw, running over the stubble I hadn’t shaved because I didn’t want to use her razor without asking first. Sarah’s palm came to rest against the side of my neck. She lifted her chin and tugged, pulling my mouth down. It started out innocent enough, but that didn’t last.

Sarah shifted around, straddling my lap as she sucked on my bottom lip. Her thumbs stroked down the side of my neck as she tilted her head and slipped her tongue into my mouth. She tasted like mint tea and some kind of sweet lip balm or whatever girls put on their lips to keep them soft and kissable. Which hers were.

I tried not to get too excited. Sarah was upset. Maybe she was looking for a diversion from the
shittiness of the past couple of days. I knew I was, but I wasn’t going to make the next move, in case she regretted the decision when she wasn’t so keyed up.

I kept my hands on her waist, but the urge to move them higher or lower was pretty damn difficult to curb when she started making noises to accompany the tongue action. Those nails of hers went under my shirt, but the thing was so tight she couldn’t get far.

Sarah broke off the kiss and went for the hem, pushing it up until my abs were exposed. “Want to help me out here?” she asked, all attitude, even though she was breathless.

“Not when you ask like that, no.”

She stopping fighting with the shirt long enough to meet my gaze. I tried not to smile at her angry expression. Sarah was aggressive. It was part of the reason I liked her. She was also no nonsense and had a biting sense of humor.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes. “Please?”

I lifted my arms over my head. “Will you look at that? Must be magic.”

“Oh, I’m looking, all right,” she muttered and went back to the battle with the too-s
mall shirt.

It got stuck on my chin and then again on my nose. “I don’t even know how you got this on in the first place. You’re built like the Hulk.” She gave it a firm yank and it finally came off.

Then it was just me in my towel and her fully dressed. It seemed unfair, but I wasn’t pushing. Not that I needed to. Sarah evened the playing field by losing her own shirt.

I kept my eyes on her face, even though I could swear her boobs had magnets in them. “Are you sure you want to be doing this right now?”

She reached behind her back, arching so her chest pushed out toward me. I looked down. Her bra was plain white satin. None of that lacy shit or frilly crap to distract me. It slid down her arms and her boobs came into view. I hadn’t seen them unwrapped before. I mean, we’d done some serious making out. She’d had her hand down my pants and I’d had mine down hers, but there hadn’t been any getting naked.

“Sarah.” I closed my eyes and held onto her hips. The image of her perfect, soft, round tits with their sweet pink nipples was already seared into my brain.

“Chris,” she whispered, lips brushing mine. Her fingers drifted along my arms. “I want you to touch me.”

“I am touching you,” I mumbled around her tongue.

“I didn’t get shirtless so you could fondle my hips.”

She guided my hands over her ribs until I reached the swell of her breasts. My thumbs brushed her nipples and she made a soft, throaty sound.

“Mm. That’s so much better.”

I wanted to be able to control myself, but I wasn’t sure it was in the cards tonight. Sarah was raring to go and all I’d done so far was feel her up. My plan had been to take her on at least one or two more dates before I let her take it to the next level, but with the way her hands kept heading south, I had my doubts it would go down that way.

She fumbled with the towel, hand diving under, fingers exploring until she reached my cock and grabbed hold. “Shit, Sarah,” I groaned as she gave it a firm squeeze.

She broke the kiss and looked down as her thumb circled the head.
“Oh God.”

“You can just call him Dick,” I joked, worried about my stamina tonight. I’d been cooped up with Hayden for the past couple of days, so
taking care of business hadn’t been a priority. Now I wished I’d made it one when I’d been in her shower.

“I’m going to be totally honest with you.” Sarah looked from my cock to my face and down again. “I knew you were  . . . ample—”

“Ample? Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

She ignored my question and kept running her thumb around the head. “—I just didn’t expect you to be proportional to your body.”

I lowered my voice to a whisper. “If you cover it with the towel, you can pretend you didn’t see it, and there won’t be anything to be afraid of.”

She scrunched up her nose and tweaked my nipple. It hurt.

I grabbed her around the waist and laid her out on the couch. Her legs locked around my hips and she shrieked, giggling.

“I didn’t say I was afraid!”

“Maybe you’re just a little intimidated.”

She squirmed under me. “More like nervously anticipating.”

“What is it that you’re nervously anticipating?”

“
You fucking me.”

The mood went from light to serious. I stared into those dark blue eyes of hers. “It’s been a rough couple of days. We don’t have to rush—”

“Stop overthinking things and take my jeans off.”

I sat back when she pushed on my chest, giving her room to pop the button and pull them over her hips. I took over from there, dragging the jeans down her legs. She wore simple white cotton bikini briefs.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I said, running my hands up the outside of her thighs. I hesitated as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties. But then she lifted her hips and I removed those, too. Between her legs was a neatly trimmed triangle of pale blond pointing toward the Holy Grail.

I leaned over, kissing her softly before I started a slow descent, stopping at her nipples to lick and suck while I ran a knuckle down her slit. She was soft and smooth and so goddamn fucking wet, it was killing me not to just dive in. But I took my time, kissing every inch of skin until my face was between her luscious legs.

Sarah’s sighs were soft as I licked her clit and slid two fingers inside her, pumping slowly, learning her body. When she came, her body shook and she said my name in a low, desperate whisper. She cupped my face in her hands, guiding me up to her mouth.

“We don’t have to—” she cut me off with a hard kiss.

“Please, Chris. You make me feel good. I want to feel good.”

“You sure? ’
Cause once we go there, we can’t go back.” She tried to kiss me again, but I stayed out of reach. “I need to hear it. I don’t want to screw this up.”

“I want this. I want you.”

I reached blindly for the coffee table, but Sarah beat me to it. She rifled through my wallet, produced a foil square and tore it open. I didn’t think to ask how she knew it was in there. Sarah was the one who rolled it on. She lined everything up. I pushed forward and eased inside, inch by slow inch.

Sarah’s eyes fluttered shut and her body relaxed into the couch. I wished I’d thought to change locations before we took things this far. I hadn’t banked on this happening tonight. A bed would have been better, but it was too late to stop now. I waited until her eyes opened again before I started to move.

Each measured thrust was punctuated by Sarah’s quiet moans. She gripped my shoulders, fingernails biting the skin. I cradled the back of her head in my palm and kept my mouth on hers, working to hold a steady rhythm.

I knew when she came again by the way her lips parted, and she threw her head back in a silent scream. She was gorgeous and sexy and exactly what I had expected her to be in bed.
Fucking phenomenal.

Later,
Sarah went to get my clothes from the dryer. When she came back my pants and shirt were draped over her arm.

She tossed my boxers at me. "Your pants are still a little damp.

"They're clean. That's a serious improvement over smelling like stale French fries." I held out a hand for them, but she cradled them to her chest.

"You could stay if you wanted."

"Until my pants are dry?"

Sarah shrugged.
"Or longer."

"How much longer?"

"You could spend the night," she said softly.

I shoved my feet into my boxer and pulled them up as I rose from the couch. "They'll definitely be dry by then
."

"So you'll stay
?"

"That all depends . . ." I took a step closer to her.

"On what?"

"Where I'm sleeping."

Sarah's grin was full of promise. "Who said anything about sleeping?"

As she led me down the hall to her bedroom I realized I'd been right; we couldn't go back now. And I didn't want to.

Inked Armo
r

Coming Soon from Gallery Books

a division of Simon and Schuster

May 2014

Chapter One

Tenley

At 6:23 in the morning, the front door opened downstairs and the security system let out a chirp, signaling Trey’s arrival. I held my breath as I listened for the sound of the code’s being punched in, then a warning beep, followed by Trey’s irate curse.

Last night I’d changed the security code for the seventh time in as many days. I started doing it after I woke up to his standing over my bed, screaming bloody murder about the tattoo on my back. Verbal abuse from my almost brother-in-law was not a good way to wake up. So since he’d thwarted my attempts to have the lock changed, I made the alarm system the bane of his existence.

Trey strung together creative new phrases describing exactly what he thought of me; he knew the alarm would start shrieking at any moment. I reached for my iPhone, jammed in the earbuds, and scrolled to the playlist I’d created for this freak show. Hard rock filled my ears as the alarm went into full panic mode.

Before long he started pounding on my door. Nabbing the remote from my night table, I turned on the surround sound hooked up to the flat-screen and blasted techno beats, then went into my bathroom to shower. Trey hated techno.

The pounding had ended by the time I’d showered and dressed. With practiced stealth, I silently turned the dead bolt on my bedroom door. Opening it a crack, I peeked out. No Trey, but that didn’t mean he was gone. He’d waited for hours before; his persistence knew no bounds.

Just outside the door was a pile of papers and a pen for me to sign over the property. He’d shown up each morning without fail, but in the past week his tactics had changed slightly. Occasionally he left the papers and ambushed me later in the day or the evening. The past couple of days, he’d gone back to waiting me out.

My response never changed. I always tore up the papers and watched them scatter like fat snowflakes on the floor. Their destruction had become a ritual I enjoyed.

I was about to shred the ones left for me this morning when I noticed they weren’t the usual documents. The stack was thinner. I leafed through the pages, frowning as I absorbed the content. The back page held my sloppy signature. Based on what I was reading, I’d signed over power of attorney to Trey.

I had absolutely no recollection of reading this document, never mind signing it. According to the date, it was drafted and made legal two months after the accident. I’d been released from the hospital at that point, but I hadn’t been in any state to care for myself, and Trey had put himself in charge of my medication. Now I understood why.

“Trey!”
I crushed the documents in my fist and rushed down the stairs.

He was sitting at the kitchen island, typing away on his laptop with a coffee at his side. As if it were his house and not mine. I slammed the laptop shut on his hands.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He stood, his chair toppling backward. The metallic clatter echoed in the open space.

“What’s wrong with me?” I shoved the papers into his chest. “What’s wrong with you? Do you think you can bully me into signing the house over?”

He seized my wrists to stop me from attacking him. His lip curled in a sneer. “I have power of attorney. I can take everything if I want to.”

“Have you lost your mind? Do you honestly think this is going to hold? I wasn’t even lucid when I signed this.” I struggled against him, the bones in my wrists grinding painfully as his grip tightened.

“Sign over the house and it won’t be a problem.”

“Not to you, and especially not now!”
I spat.

“Sign over the fucking house,
goddamnit!” he roared.

“Why are you so intent on making me do this?” I screamed back.

“Because the estate is useless to me until I have possession of this house!”

He released my wrists and turned away to lurch around the kitchen, his wiry body jerking as he tried to get a handle on himself. Trey had never before lost control. I rubbed my wrists, red marks marring the skin where he’d held me too hard. His nostrils flared, eyes burning with hatred. He took a deep breath and adjusted his tie.

“There are five houses on the property; why do you need this one?” I asked, his motivation lost on me. Although, with him, logic need not apply.

“Are you really that stupid? I can’t sell the estate unless I own all the houses.”

“But in your parents’ will—”

“The will doesn’t matter anymore! My parents are dead, no thanks to your brilliant wedding plans,
so what they wanted is irrelevant.”

The shot of guilt hit me like a bullet to the heart. “That’s not fair.”

“You don’t like the truth? Is it too much for you to handle? Should I get you a pill?”

“Enough.” I held up my hand.

I could never live in this house—not when it symbolized everything that might have been, but would never be. I couldn’t stand the thought of it leaving his family. Especially when he had so many close relatives who would jump at the opportunity to call the estate home if they could afford it. The property had been in his family for generations.

“Even if I signed over this house, your uncles still own the summer home, don’t they?” I asked.

“My uncles will sell.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because everyone has a price. I’m just not sure what yours is. I mean, you stayed with Connor even after he fucked his way through half the female population of Cornell while you were on your little break, or whatever you called it,” Trey sneered. “And then you jumped all over that fucking proposal. So maybe the money is more important than you’re letting on. You’ve been more than willing to relinquish your self-respect these days, from what I witnessed in Chicago. What if I doubled the offer? Would you take it then?”

Any shred of empathy I may have had for Trey dissolved. Connor hadn’t been perfect, and neither had our relationship, but Trey’s allegation sounded like another of his ploys to hurt me. True or not, I didn’t need that stain on Connor’s memory.

“Why do you have to be so cruel?”

Trey’s smile was malicious. “You are the only thing standing in my way, and I will do anything in my power to get what I need. If you don’t sign it over, I will take it. The request was a courtesy, but I see you’re too self-absorbed to understand that.
As usual.”

I held up the crumpled papers, my resolve hardening. “This will never hold.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He righted the toppled chair and picked up his suit jacket. He tucked the laptop into his briefcase, but before he closed the case he withdrew yet another set of papers. These I recognized.

“I’ll just leave these for you, shall I? In case you change that little mind of yours.” With that, he turned and walked out the door.

As soon as Trey’s car disappeared around the bend in the drive, I sank down in one of the chairs. His words were like slivers working deep into my skin.

My relationship with Connor had always been tricky. He was older by several years, and he’d had some unrealistic expectations, mostly old-fashioned notions of propriety. In hindsight, it had been all about keeping up appearances. If we’d gotten married, I would have had to balance that my entire life. All my “little quirks,” as Connor called them, would have been shelved or channeled into more acceptable things. Or hidden under clothing or hair, as my tiny tattoo and ear piercings had been.

Connor had been halfway across the country for years, only coming back to Minnesota during the summer months and holidays. When we started dating, he flew back more often.
But the distance strained the relationship, and in my final semester of college it became too much to juggle. I needed to focus on school, not pine for a boyfriend so far away. So I gave him a reprieve. It lasted eight weeks. I’d never asked him about that span of time. It hadn’t seemed necessary to know, because shortly thereafter he proposed.

Unfortunately, that little barb from Trey brought up other concerns that had nothing to do with Connor. An image of Hayden with Sienna all over him popped into my head. The thought made my stomach turn. I couldn’t stand the idea of him with anyone but me.
Which wasn’t fair because I left him, not the other way around.

If he went back to her in my absence, I had no one to blame but myself. Two weeks was long enough for her to find a way to sink her claws back into him, especially with how I’d left things. It made the urgency of tying up loose ends even more pressing. I missed him so much it was a constant, painful distraction.

I smoothed the power-of-attorney papers out on the counter. Unlike sorting through Connor’s effects or managing the financial aspects of the settlement, this wasn’t something I could handle on my own. I snatched up my purse and the documents and headed for the garage.

The familiar drive to Minneapolis didn’t take long, and I soon reached Williams and Williams Attorneys at Law. I should have called ahead, but Frank Williams was a longtime friend of my father’s. I was certain he would see me, even without an appointment.

The elevator ride to the twelfth floor took forever. The confined space made me anxious; I hadn’t been to Frank’s office since I signed the paperwork regarding the settlement from the airline and my parents’ will.

The receptionist looked surprised as I entered.
“Tenley!”

“Hi, Catherine.
I’m afraid I don’t have an appointment, but I’m happy to wait if Frank is available.”

“Is everything okay? Is there a problem with the settlement?”

“It’s about Connor’s estate. I have . . . some questions.”

“I’ll be right back.” She went down the hall to Frank’s office, and less than a minute later he appeared, Catherine following behind.

“Tenley! It’s so good to see you.” Though he smiled, I saw his concern as he folded me in a fatherly embrace. I hugged him back. “How is Chicago treating you?”

“I’m taking a short break. There are some things that need my attention here.”

“Why don’t you come to my office and we can talk.” He looked to Catherine. “Can you reschedule that lunch meeting?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll let you know if we need to rearrange anything else this afternoon,” Frank said, and led me to his office.

Once the doors were closed, I filled him in, handing over the documents. Frank lifted the bifocals hanging around his neck, his frown deepening as he scanned the pages.

“Why haven’t I seen this before?” he asked.

“I just found out about it this morning. I came directly to you. Is Trey right? Can he take everything?” The property and the value attached to it didn’t concern me. It was having control stripped away, the potential for more loss too much to handle.

“This is your signature?” He flipped to the back page and turned it toward me.

“Yes, but I had just been released from the hospital and was on a lot of medications. I don’t remember signing that.”

“That son of a—” Frank shook his head. “He can be disbarred for this.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“I’ll need a few days, but I’m sure I can have this rescinded. He should be taken to task over this—but I have a feeling you won’t be interested in going that route.”

“I don’t have the energy to take him to court. I just want to make sure he doesn’t have any power over me, and that he doesn’t get the house. I want this behind me so I can move on.”

“If that’s what you prefer. Now, Catherine said something about Connor’s estate. Is there more we need to deal with?”

“Yes.” I pulled out a copy of Trey’s transfer-of-ownership papers and the proposed remuneration.

So much had changed since I’d signed the papers for the settlement. I’d been drowning in guilt over accepting financial compensation for such overwhelming emotional losses. For the past year I’d believed the loss was a direct result of my selfishness. Trey had played on that, but I’d finally seen that what had happened was far beyond anyone’s control. I wouldn’t allow him to hold that over me anymore.

Four days later I was back in Frank’s office with Connor’s cousin Weston.

Frank had been able to overturn the power of attorney. He’d also uncovered some information about a recent proposal for the Hoffman estate, which sprawled over ten acres with five houses. Trey had applied to the city council for commercial zoning and demolition.

My house and its two-acre parcel of land was a gift from Connor’s parents, meant for us once we were married. We were supposed to move in when we returned from Hawaii—except that hadn’t happened.

I’d been shocked when I found out the property had been left to me. Trey had been livid, particularly since Connor, who’d specialized in real estate law, had left him with no loopholes to take it from me.

While his plans for the property were unknown, some of the houses, if not all of them, were at risk of being torn down. That was not acceptable.

In drawing up the new transfer-of-ownership agreement, Frank included a clause that stipulated the house and two acres would remain under the residential zoning bylaws.
And since the house was smack in the middle of the estate, that kyboshed Trey’s plans.