Safe Love (Love Brothers #4) (5 page)

Margot looked across the vast expanse of her desk, trying to
decide what to say to the young woman who sat sobbing her eyes out and
clutching a handful of tissues, or to the man sitting next to her with his arms
crossed over his massive chest, face cloudy with a combination of fury and
resignation. After cancelling the last two of his scheduled appointments,
Antony had appeared today at her door behind his daughter. The following forty
minutes or so had been torture for everyone in the room.

In all her years of helping people, listening, giving subtle
suggestions to teens, married couples and others, she had never felt so utterly
useless in the face of what would and should have been a straightforward case.
The room was suffused by the sound of AliceLynn’s sobs and barely
understandable mumblings about how she ‘hated her Daddy’ and ‘hated all this
stupid talking’ and ‘he hated her anyway.’ Sweat beaded under Margot’s shirt
the longer Antony sat there, glaring at her as if this were somehow her fault.

She prayed that no one would catch her in this mess because
she would surely, without a doubt, one hundred percent, lose her damn license
to practice if they did. Antony cleared his throat, shifted in his seat and
attempted to drape an arm across the increasingly miserable girl’s shoulders.
“Get off me!” Her screech made Margot’s head pound. Antony withdrew his arm,
his face red and his hackles raised. “I hate you!”

She jumped to her feet, purse clutched to her thin frame. A
sudden thought filled Margot’s head and she acted on it, for reasons that never
really clarified themselves. “What’s in the bag, AliceLynn?”

The girl blinked, brushed the back of her hand across her
runny nose, then glared at Margot. “None of your dang business.”

Antony snagged it quick. The girl made an attempt to grab it
but he held her off, and tossed it to Margot without a word. The surrealism of
the moment made her heart race. This was not right. This was not her place. She
was not the girl’s mother.

Even so, she sat and tugged the strings, getting a distinct
whiff of marijuana when the bag opened. Frowning, she pulled out the elaborate,
blown-glass pipe and a baggie about a quarter filled with weed. She set them on
the desk, ignoring Antony’s sharp intake of breath. Antony’s mother and his
younger brother Dom had filled her in on
his
pot and beer-fueled high
school and college days. That wasn’t what concerned her at the moment anyway.
The item below all that stuff did.

Just as Antony opened his mouth to bellow or berate,
generally making the whole scene a million times worse, she held up a hand. To
her relief, his lips pressed together in a thin line and he stayed quiet.
Margot closed the purse, leaving the paraphernalia on the desk and handed the
bag over to the red-faced girl. “AliceLynn,” she said in a firm voice. “You
need to get a grip on yourself now. We understand…” She stopped, catching her
error. “Your father understands how you feel. Our…uh, I mean
your
task
now is to move forward, to get past it, to work together and be stronger as a
unit.”

“He’s a jerk,” the girl said, clutching her bag that
contained something Margot would be discussing with her, just not in her
father’s presence. With that move, she sincerely hoped AliceLynn would trust
her. “That’s my property.” She jerked her chin toward the baggie of weed and
pipe. Margot raised an eyebrow, surprised, but not really. From what she had
heard about Crystal and knew about Antony, AliceLynn came by her strong,
defiant, somewhat self-centered personality honestly.

Antony rose, his set shoulders blocking Margot’s view. “I
may be a jerk, but I
am
your dad. And I
am
sorry. Really, I truly
am so sorry, honey.” Margot hesitated. This she had not anticipated. Antony
held out his arms. Margot willed the girl to respond but she just stood,
gnawing on her lower lip, her pale cheeks tear-streaked, red hair in a wild
riot around her face.

“You should be sorry, Daddy.” AliceLynn spit the last word
out as if it tasted bad. Antony took a step back, straight into Margot. She put
a hand on his bicep. “You
dumped
me. Dumped me right out of your life,
like I was never in it. Like… like…without my mama you didn’t even care about
me, you know?” Antony didn’t move. AliceLynn’s gaze flickered down to the hand
Margot still had on his arm. “And I think,” she said, drawing herself together
in a classic self-justification stance. “I think this session should be over.”

Margot dropped her hand to her side, feeling her face flush
hot. “I love you AliceLynn,” Antony said, making Margot frown when AliceLynn
flinched as if he’d slapped her. “I love you,” he repeated, his arms hanging at
his sides and his broad shoulders slumped.

“Well, goodie for you,” the girl said before turning and
flouncing to the door. She yanked it open then whirled around with a dramatic
flourish. Margot tried very, very hard not to roll her eyes. “Let’s go, Daddy.”
She kept her gaze on Margot who’d stepped out from behind and now stood
shoulder to shoulder with Antony. “Don’t you have a
date
? With your
fiancée
?”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t have a date. Rosie said she’d
be late tonight, some meeting at the bank.” His voice was strong, steady and
free of anger. Margot gave him mental kudos. He crossed his arms. His daughter
mirrored him. If the whole thing weren’t so hopelessly messy, Margot would
consider this moment a breakthrough. But she couldn’t get past her bizarre,
huffy, knee-jerk reactions to the girl’s teenage-style baiting.

AliceLynn frowned then slipped out the door, leaving Margot
at a loss, and unsure for the first time in a damn long time what to say or do.
Antony turned and dropped into the closest chair, burying his face in his
hands. She stood over him, raised a hand to touch his shoulder and then dropped
it. Then raised it again and dropped it once more. Confusion churned through
her.

After a few brutally awkward minutes, Antony lifted his head
and looked at her, making her weak in the knees, in a way no grown woman should
be. She took a step away from him, shaking her head but he remained seated,
staring at her. “I can’t do this.” His voice was low and sounded strangled.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she insisted, making her
slow way around so the huge desk was between them again.

“I can’t be this…person everyone needs me to be. I don’t
know how I got here in the first place and I’m sick and fucking tired of
disappointing everybody with my inability to father that…that girl. Oh god,” he
moaned and leaned his elbows on his knees.

Letting her inner caretaker overrule her logical mind, which
was fairly screaming at her to stop, run away and put a lot of distance between
herself and this imminent disaster, Margot moved back around the desk and put
her hand on his shoulder. The way he settled under her touch and the way she
sensed it, provided her with even more inner turmoil.

“You aren’t disappointing anyone,” she said, attempting and
nearly failing to keep the tremor out of her voice. “Stop saying that.”

He rose so fast the chair tottered and tipped backward with
a thud. Before she could blink he had her wrists in his hands and his lips
close to hers. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m…I …”

Giving herself a firm shove over the precipice, Margot took
a breath and yanked her arms out of his grip, wrapped them around his neck and
pressed her lips to his. They both made low, satisfied sounds deep in their
throats. He hesitated a split second then met her more than halfway, pulling
her close and opening his mouth to hers. After a few, glorious seconds, he
broke away, breathing heavy and glaring at her. “Don’t make this fucking
worse,” he said under his breath as if talking to himself.

Margot’s body was on high alert. She tingled from tip to toe
and knew her face was flushed. “It’s…all right.” She moved closer, taking his
large, warm hand in hers. He jerked out her reach.

“No, it’s not and you damn well know it. I don’t know what
the fuck it is about you—no, wait, I do know and I don’t want it, do you get
me? Margot? I
can’t
want it. I
had
it. I loved it. And
it
got into a car and was crushed by a fucking semi-trailer on the interstate.”
His voice broke. “I won’t allow myself to feel that way about anyone ever
again.”

Margot dropped onto the small couch, her therapy brain
clicking in on autopilot. “But, you…what about…” She couldn’t even bring
herself to say the poor woman’s name.

“Rosie,” he growled, keeping a solid four to five feet of
air between them. “Oh fuck.” He stepped further away, stumbling on the
overturned chair. “This is our last session. You can keep working with
AliceLynn but you and I…we can’t …”

Margot rose slowly, keeping her gaze on his, noting how he
automatically reacted and owning it.

This could be pretty incredible. But for her shitty timing.
She took a long, shaky breath. “You’re right. We can’t. Please tell AliceLynn
I’ll see her on Friday. If you’ll excuse me,” she said, barely making it to the
small private washroom before bursting into tears.

The weird, empty, post-therapy feeling stole over Antony as
he drove like a bat out of hell all the way home. Opening up the Charger’s hemi
and blaring Luke Bryan music didn’t dispel it. Neither did the two hours of
riding and grooming his horses, or the six pack of beer he downed. If anything,
all the physical activity and booze expanded the hole in his chest, leaving him
shaky and as horny as a sailor on shore leave.

Cursing, he slammed the window shut when a strong wind blew
a squall of rain into the kitchen. His phone buzzed across the counter. He
snagged it, registering AliceLynn’s text about ‘staying at Janey’s’ and
wondering if she were actually doing that or in the middle of making out with
her boyfriend. He groaned as he tried to formulate an appropriate response.

After typing and deleting all the stupid auto corrections,
he hit ‘call’ and leaned against the counter, heart pounding.

“What,” she said, picking it up right before it went to
voice mail.

“Is that any way to answer my call?”

“Sorry. Hi Daddy! How can I help you this evening?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” he growled. “Where are you, really?”

“I told you. At Janey’s.”

“So if I said ‘put Janey’s daddy on the phone, hon. I need
to let him know I’m still waitin’ on a part for his Honda,’ that wouldn’t
present any sort of a problem, would it?”

“Not at all. As a matter of fact, he’s sitting on the couch
now, staring at a baseball game. I’ll get him.”

“You do that.” Antony waited, tapping his toe, knowing he
had to follow through with this, or she’d call his bluff.

“Hey Antony. What’s up?” Janey’s father’s voice filled his
ear. “What’s that? Oh, okay. So, AliceLynn says I’m to tell you that she is
here, and not anywhere else. Teenagers,” the man said, chuckling under his
breath. “How’s my Honda?”

“Should be done tomorrow if the part shows up. Put my
daughter back on, would ya?”

“Sure thing. Hang in there, man. It’s gotta get better,
right?”

Antony grunted, acknowledging that of all the things so
grossly wrong in his life at that moment, he would take a little right with his
daughter. But he had to own up to his piece of it—he’d done this. So he had to
take a little extra on top of the usual teenage girl BS.

He could hear her breathing and waited for her to say
something, then realized she probably wouldn’t. “Have a nice…night,” he said,
cursing under his breath. Would he ever get the hang of this?

“Sure. Whatever.” The phone went silent in his hand for a
minute before buzzing, startling him. Noting the name on the screen, he
pondered ignoring it until something in his head started pinging like crazy.

“Hey Rosie, what’s up?” He sat at the kitchen table with his
hand over his face, acknowledging that while his fiancée was the last person he
wanted to talk to right now, he could use her company, considering that since
his anger at AliceLynn was dissipating, his earlier, more primal urges were
returning in a sickening rush. The sound of her sharp intake of breath and sob
drove all that out of his head. He jumped up and started pacing. “Honey, what
is it? Calm down. Is it Jeffrey? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come over?”

“No,” she said between crying. “No, no, no it’s…nothing. I’m
just…I wanted to…oh shit, Antony.” The sobbing recommenced.

“Damn it, Rosie, talk to me. What the hell is—?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m all messed up, just, you know,
emotional and stuff I guess.” She sniffled. Antony heaved a sigh, thinking that
suggesting she come over so he could fuck her and take his edge off might be in
the ‘wrong’ column at that moment. “I love you,” she whispered.

“You too,” he said, rummaging through the fridge for more
beer and coming up empty.

“I don’t…deserve you.”

He frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose where a
headache was taking up residence. Exhaustion hit him in the chest. Close on the
heels of that, the most overwhelming urge to run out into the night yelling
like a crazy person. He had to clench his jaw to keep from doing exactly that.
“I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.”

“I, um, got the promotion.”

“Oh, that’s great, baby. Congratulations.” Something
occurred to him then—a memory of a promise he’d made to take her out wherever
she wanted for dinner once the promotion came through. Before he could ask if
she’d been out looking for him today to break the news, she spoke.

“I’m gonna go. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know. I wanted to
hear your voice.”

“Uh, sure. Okay.” A sick sensation hit his gut. Had she been
at the strip mall where Margot’s office was located? Today? She knew his
therapy schedule better than he did. “Did you—” But for the second time inside
an hour, a woman he cared about hung up on him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, preparing to toss the damn phone onto
the counter and take a cold shower. It buzzed again. Aiden this time. That
strange, alarm-bell sound hit his brain, accompanied by a tingling all up and
down his spine. “What?” he yelled into the thing as he walked down the hall,
already figuring out ways to get out of the conversation.

“Hey, um…” The other man hesitated, pissing Antony off.

“What the hell is it? I just got off the phone with Rosie
and she’s pullin’ some kinda PMS emotional crap on me and AliceLynn is being a
pill. I’m not in the mood right now, Leonardo.”

“Sure. Right. Sorry.”

There was a strange, overly long silence between them.
Antony set the phone on his dresser, putting it on speaker so he could strip
out of his clothes. “So what is it?” The tingling had returned, making him
antsy.

“Nothing. Just wondering…about…uh…”

“Christ in a sidecar, spit it out.” But something in him
just knew at that moment what his subconscious had figured out a few weeks ago.
He shoved it away, unwilling to acknowledge or confront how very bizarre his
life had become, ever since his wandering bookworm of a baby brother had
returned to town. He glared down at the phone, then up into the mirror, noting
that his now-naked body had not crawled down off the horny ledge. “I gotta go.
Bye.” He ended the call, unwilling to let the onrushing fury at what was right
in front of him between his fiancée and Aiden take up residence in his brain.

He washed his hair and body, not giving into the urge to do
something about the ever growing, gut-churning need to fuck something. He
didn’t even allow himself an overly enthusiastic wash down there, lest he
engage in a quick jack off. No. He wouldn’t. It was…he groaned and leaned his forehead
against the tiled wall, realizing he’d been about to launch into one of
Crystal’s favorite fantasies—where she made him go without sex for a solid
week, forbidding him to even touch his penis for any reason other than to piss
or clean it. Demanding to watch him while he washed and reaching out to pinch
him hard if he got too enthusiastic with that activity.

The weekend sessions they’d get up to after those weeks were
epic.

He turned and leaned back against the tiles, cranking the
hot water over to cold, yelling when it slammed into his skin, not to mention
his erection. Unfortunately, it only helped a little, so he got out, toweled
off, and flopped onto the bed, reaching down to just take care of the damn
thing and get some sleep. After a few minutes of effort he had to acknowledge
that it was no use. He was into the space, as he used to think of it. That
special, quiet corner of his own brain where he could retreat and let Crystal
take over.

He rolled over onto his stomach with a groan and willed his
brain quiet. He must have slept because when he woke with a grunt, the bedside
clock glowed a green ‘1:15’. He put his feet on the floor, noting that he still
had a half-woody and a raging headache. The storm had returned and lightning
flickered nearly constantly as he made his way to the kitchen for water and
aspirin. Something about the crack of thunder and the sharp sparkle of nearby
strikes made him smile, even as it raised the hairs on his arms and the back of
his neck.

Feeling somewhat better, he turned around just as a
thunderclap so loud it made his ears ring ripped the air. He saw her then, in
the next white, electric flash, but just for a second. The air smelled hot and
he wondered if something had been hit. Then he heard her strike a match and watched
as she touched it to the single candle. His knees shook when he met her calm,
blue gaze. She rose to her feet and walked up to him, bringing the candle with
her. The sweet smells of leather, wax and lust filled every corner of his
conscious mind.

“You…”

“Shh…” She put a finger to her lips, then to his. That
finger slid down his cheek, neck, across his bare shoulder and down his arm
until it found his hand. She took it and led him down the hall to his bedroom.
“Sit.”

He did, relishing the cool sheets against his hot,
completely bare skin. She put the blindfold on him and gave him a small push.
He dropped onto his back and sighed with relief, willing to go with this, if
for no other reason than to maybe get her out of his system. The first drop of
wax hit his torso, making him hiss with pleasure. She stayed silent, and he
sank deeper into his zone, dick rigid and aching, his body tensed and ready for
her orders.

After a while, he had no idea how long—he’d been known to
zone out for hours—he realized she’d left the room. “Margot,” he called out,
his throat clogged from disuse.

“Yes,” she said from somewhere nearby.

“I need…” He stopped.

“I know what you need, Antony. You don’t have to tell me.
The problem is, I can’t give it to you as much as I want to.” She took both his
wrists and drew them up over his head, fastening them together with metal
cuffs. He had to repress the urge to come without even being touched. But then
she started touching, working her way up his legs, kneading, stroking,
fondling, caressing with her fingers, her lips and her tongue. His hips moved,
thrusting up, making him gasp and fight the restraints.

She ended by straddling him high up on his chest, making his
mouth water with the smell of her. “Take these off,” he growled, rattling the metal
against his wrists.

“No,” she said, putting her finger on his lips which he
parted, so she could slip it between his teeth. “No talking.” She slid down
then, bringing her warmth against his, settling there and moving slow and
steady, making him groan.

“Please,” he whispered. “Oh my god, Margot. Please, let me…”

A whooshing sound filled his head, familiar, yet not, at the
same time. His heart was pounding so hard it scared him. Something about her
was so very much the same and yet different from Crystal. And this scene, while
familiar, was also terrifying in its difference.

“I won’t let you come yet, Antony,” she said as she got up
and disappeared, leaving him panting with his dick leaking onto his belly, his
wrists raw from pulling against the metal. “Not until you tell me something.”

He smelled the match again and took a long breath. “What do
you want to know?”

“Tell me…how you like it.”

He paused and then smiled. “I like it however you like it.”

“Good answer. Now, tell me how I like it.”

Her voice was low and husky. He could still smell her—the
richness of a woman so ready for him, so perfect for him it rolled off her in
waves. It was something he’d gone without for so long he thought he’d forgotten
its sweetness.

“You like it rough. You want to ride me, to come on me, and
then you want me to…to…” He stopped, grasping how important this moment was on
a very primal level.

“Yes, go on…” She was closer now. Antony licked his lips.

“You want me to fuck you from behind,” he said, his voice
barely a whisper. “Is that it? Margot?” He heard her sigh and sensed the candle
near his flesh again. “Yes. Please,” he begged. She obliged him, leaving more
stinging drops of wax on his belly and thighs.

The soft, cool space enveloped him once more and for a
second he was afraid he might have lost control of himself. But then she freed
his hands and straddled him, taking him inside her so fast he gasped and
gripped her hips, biting the inside of his cheek and mentally replaying
baseball stats to keep from blowing in seconds.

Her nipples were huge, rich tasting and obviously a trigger
for her because when he sucked one, she cried out his name, digging her fingers
into his shoulders and came so hard it hurt. But he liked to hurt. He grinned
and tugged off the blindfold, pushing her up and off even as she was still
pulsing around him.

She stood and wobbled a bit, lit from the single candle and
the still flashing lightning. He jumped up and grabbed her, shoving his tongue
into her mouth as he gripped her ass. She wrapped her long, firm body around
his and he felt himself sliding sideways, not caring that he was here, fucking
a woman who was not the one he was engaged to, and loving every single sweaty
minute of it. She tasted so damn good, he could kiss her all night.

She broke from him, her eyes shining in the dim room. “What
was it you said I wanted?”

Even though he wanted to go on kissing her, as the
realization that he was going bareback, with the distinct niggling sensation
that it was probably a Bad Idea to do so, he flipped her around so she could
grip the dresser and shoved into her. Holding on tight to her hips, he did as
she commanded, fucking her hard, harder, grunting with the effort not to come.

She did that amazing orgasm thing, clutching his dick so
tight he went up on his tiptoes and cried out with her, even though he didn’t
come. He’d had some practice at this and discovered it was sort of a ‘bike
riding, muscle memory’ thing. She calmed and he pulled her up so he could kiss
her neck and lap up the sweat on her shoulders, even as their bodies stayed
connected.