Текст книги "Hold On"

Автор книги: Kristen Ashley

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

It was hard for me to believe. For years, along with the rest of the ’burg, I’d lived the whole Mia-and-Merry-need-to-get-back-together thing.

But he was right.

I’d made a decision to give us a shot. I’d promised him I’d give it the best one I had. And I’d promised myself I was not going to fuck this up.

And it had just been days and I was falling down on that job.

“Roger that, boss,” I replied.

“I’m spoutin’ important shit, she gives me the smartass.”

“It’s me.”

“It is.”

He didn’t make it sound like it was a bad thing.

“Are we gonna talk for the next hour so you’re only gonna be here for fifteen minutes before I get to go home to my kid and my guy? Or are we gonna hang up so you can get your shit done and come see me?”

Merry didn’t reply.

He hung up on me.

Which was too bad since he couldn’t hear me laughing.

Chapter Fifteen

Don’t Let Go

Cher

Ethan nearly knocked me off the couch when he shot off it to get to the door.

A second earlier, he’d looked through the break in the curtains.

I looked to the cable box.

It was Thursday night, ten to six, and Merry was there.

I turned my head left and saw Ethan throw open the front door and unlock the storm.

He waited a beat…two…three…all while I suspected Merry was walking up the walk.

Then he shouted, “Hey, Merry!”

I studied my son, wondering if Merry read the situation with him right.

Ethan had totally been down with Merry hanging with us and watching TV the night before.

And he was totally down with Merry walking up our walk and going to his gramma’s for a family dinner.

It didn’t appear Ethan needed space.

It appeared Ethan was like me and just needed Merry.

“Hey, man.” I heard Merry’s voice, and that was when I pushed out of the couch, grabbing the remote.

I was turning their way at the same time switching off the TV when Merry walked in and gave Ethan a man-to-man handshake.

They’d let go when Ethan informed him, “Gram’s makin’ her meatloaf.” He lifted a hand and shook it in a don’t-be-disappointed gesture. “I know it sounds like it sucks. But it doesn’t. Gram’s meatloaf is the freaking bomb. It’s like a huge hamburger baked with ketchup on top. She usually puts onions in it, though she won’t do that tonight.”

“Sounds good,” Merry told him.

“Then she makes this tater tot casserole to go with it. It’s crazy good.”

Merry grinned. “Sounds like it’s a good thing I’m hungry.”

Merry’s comments did not deter Ethan from his information sharing. “And fried corn.”

“Can’t call yourself a Hoosier unless you got fried corn stuck in your teeth at least once a week,” Merry replied.

Ethan burst out laughing.

“Okay, kid, now that you’ve broken down the menu,” I said, moving toward them. “Maybe we can get to your gramma’s and eat it.”

Ethan quit laughing and looked at me. “You just want me to shut up so you can be gooey with Merry.”

“That and I’m hungry,” I returned.

“Whatever,” he muttered to me and looked to Merry. “While you get gooey with Mom, can I go out and start your truck?”

As an answer, Merry tossed Ethan his keys.

“Right on!” Ethan shouted after he caught them.

He wasted no time rushing to the bucket chair to grab his jacket and then he raced out of the house.

The storm door whispered and banged.

I looked to Merry.

“Get over here and give me gooey,” he ordered.

The essence of hotness: a badass capable of uttering the word “gooey,” doing that shit and making my clit tingle.

I wasted no time either.

Merry met me halfway probably with a dual purpose, the second part of that being we were not in the door where Ethan could see when Merry took me in his arms, bent and laid a wet one on me.

When he was done I was wishing we had all kinds of time to be gooey.

Since we didn’t, I warned, “Don’t let Mom steal you away with her tater tot casserole. Just so you know, I have the recipe.”

Merry held me close in his arms and smiled at me.

My kid. My guy. My mom. Her tater tot casserole. And Merry smiling at me.

There it was again.

Fucking happy.

* * * * *

“This is delicious, Grace,” Merry told my mother.

We were sitting at Mom’s kitchen table.

Ethan was shoveling his gramma’s food in his mouth like he’d been told he was getting nothing but C rations for the next year after that meal.

I was freaking.

This was because somewhere between leaving my house and sitting at Mom’s table, something had happened to Merry.

Something extreme.

Gone was the mellow, funny guy he gave my kid. Gone was the thoughtful, gentlemanly guy he gave my mom. And gone was the teasing, hot guy he gave me.

He was quiet to the point he was distant, like he was there but he didn’t want to be.

Worse, he wasn’t hiding that.

At all.

Those four words were the first he’d spoken since conversation had awkwardly died when both mom and me sensed Merry retreating.

“Thank you, Garrett,” Mom replied. “I’m glad you like it.”

He nodded to her once, didn’t further engage, just turned back to eating.

My heart sank to my stomach.

That was so not Merry.

Mom looked at me and I instantly saw that her enthusiasm at having a new addition to her family dinner, this being a good guy who was into her daughter, had died.

She wasn’t freaking like me.

She was disappointed.

Then again, she didn’t go all out for dinner, cleaning her house, even putting out flowers Merry would most definitely see and know that was an outlay Mom didn’t splurge on often (her doing it to show Merry he was making the right choice of possibly wanting to be a part of this family) to have him act like the last place he wanted to be was there.

I had nothing for my mom, nonverbally and definitely not verbally, to explain what was going on with Merry.

What I wanted was to kick him in the shin, this my way of telling him to snap out of it at the same time asking him what the fuck was his problem.

That was the Cher way of dealing with things.

But after nearly blowing it with Merry, I needed to learn not to do shit like that. I couldn’t react, mouth off, or do something stupid and then face the consequences later. Not without risking fucking us up, and I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do that.

But this wasn’t Merry. Not even a little bit. I’d never seen him like this. Even when Tanner and Rocky were on the bumpy path of their reunion, something neither Merry nor his dad hid was just as bumpy for them, he didn’t get like this. Not when he had a shitty case he was investigating that took time and effort that, in the end if he closed it, only allowed him to give a small measure of relief to the people who’d had their lives irrevocably altered when the shit of life buried them under the stink.

“I hear you have a boat,” Mom noted, attempting to snap Merry out of it by engaging him in conversation.

“Yep,” he told his plate.

He said no more.

Well, that didn’t work.

“You got a boat?” Ethan piped up excitedly.

That got him. Merry looked to my son, the blankness leaving his face, and it softened.

“I do, bud,” he said quietly. “But, just to say, it’s for sale.”

I stared at him because I had no clue he was selling his boat. I’d actually never been officially informed he had a boat.

I didn’t do healthy relationships until now (arguably, especially at this moment), but that seemed like something to share, say, when he was hanging at J&J’s having a drink. Or perhaps when we were making out on my couch and feeling each other up last night after Ethan went to sleep. Or during dinner at Swank’s, waffles at my place, lunches (plural) at Frank’s, or in one of what I was now seeing were the not-very-informative texts he’d sent me.

“Why are you selling it?” Mom asked.

Merry looked to her. “In the market to get a house. Got a realtor; she sent some listings. Looked through eighteen of ’em. Didn’t like what I saw except for two, both outside my price range. To make ’em in my price range, I gotta liquidate some things for the down payment.”

I kept staring at him, because selling your boat might not be something that you’d share with the woman in your life but buying a house definitely was.

I wanted to be smart. Not get ticked or more freaked but instead twist that to something happy.

First, Merry out of that crappy apartment. Second, the idea he was doing that now, after he’d decided to take a shot at an us with me.

But the way he gave Mom that information, void of emotion, didn’t sit well with me.

Mom didn’t care about the void-of-emotion part.

She went straight to the twisting.

“You’re in the market for a house?” Her voice was an octave higher, filled with hope and excitement.

“Yeah, Grace. Don’t live in a great place. Time to move on,” Merry answered, no inflection in his tone at all.

Mom gave happy eyes to me.

Ethan declared, “A boat is better than a house.”

“You don’t have my view, buddy,” Merry replied.

“View is always better from a boat,” Ethan informed him.

Finally, one side of Merry’s lips curled up. “Can’t argue that.”

“Have more corn, Garrett,” Mom urged, seeing his plate almost clean and picking up the bowl of corn.

“Prefer seconds of that casserole, Grace,” he returned.

She dropped the corn so fast it clattered and nabbed the casserole.

With Merry reengaged (sort of), the rest of dinner and dessert went okay.

Not great.

Just okay.

And okay was so…not…Merry.

After we were done, Mom shooed the boys out so the women could do the dishes, something she’d normally never do because she wasn’t about “women’s work” unless that work involved pushing out babies, which was only women’s work due to biology.

Which meant she wanted to be alone with me to hash out what was going on with Merry.

The guys hit the living room and I hit the sink, wanting to hash out what was going on with Merry too. The problem with that was, in this scenario, it was me who had to provide the information and I had no clue.

Mom got close with the meatloaf platter and a Tupperware container.

“Garrett’s being strange. Are you two okay?” she asked under her breath, seeing as her house was nearly as tiny as mine and they were in the next room.

I thought we were.

For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine the way Merry was at dinner had one thing to do with him and me.

I just couldn’t think of what it did have to do with.

“Yeah,” I told her.

“He wasn’t him…” She paused. “At all.”

“Yeah,” I repeated.

“Except with Ethan,” she revised.

At least there was that.

“You need to talk to him, honey-sicle,” she advised.

I looked from filling the sink with soapy water, to my mom.

“Maybe I should let this slide,” I suggested.

Her face started to go mom-like, so I rushed on.

“We’re new, Mom. Still feelin’ each other out. It’s only been a week since our first date. Not your fault, I was all for it, but maybe dinner at the mom’s house was too soon.”

This was a possible option of what was going on with Merry.

But even as it came out of my mouth, I didn’t buy it.

“He’s sat at that table before, Cheryl,” she reminded me, swinging her hand to the kitchen table. “I fed him and Mike when they helped out with my house, and I fed him lunch when he was takin’ care of my walls. He filled his plate with food from that table when I had Ethan’s ninth birthday party. Stuffed his face from that table at last year’s Christmas party. He is not a stranger to this house. He’s not a stranger to me or Ethan. But he was a stranger tonight.”

She was right.

I looked back to the water filling the sink and turned it off. I was shifting to go to the table to grab plates, but I stopped when Mom’s hand caught my forearm.

I gave her my eyes.

“Whole town’s watchin’, you know that,” she said quietly. “Whole town’s waitin’ to see what comes of you and Garrett Merrick. Figure most of ’em are rootin’ for you two. Same’s I figure most of ’em think you’re gonna go down in flames, that bein’ you who ignites that blaze or, due to history in this scenario, more likely it bein’ him.”

Her hand left me, but she didn’t quit talking.

“I know my girl. I know you want everyone to think you don’t care what they think. But I also know you care about that man in there.”

She jerked her head toward the wall on the other side of which was her living room.

She then kept going.

“It is no secret Tanner Layne had his hands full beatin’ back the demons that plagued the woman he loved, demons that drove her away from the only man for her and she knew he was just that. She still let those demons win, sugar. Story told so often in this town, I know. Everyone knows. And what we know is Tanner made one mistake in all that. In the beginning, he gave up. But Raquel put up a hell of a fight to make him quit and they were young so neither of ’em knew better. You and Garrett are not at that place.”

I opened my mouth to tell her she wasn’t wrong, and more (something I had to chew on), Mia’s fatal mistake was giving up too.

But Mom wasn’t done speaking.

“Like I said, I know my girl. So I know my girl’s a fighter. Now, don’t you make the mistake of doin’ somethin’ you’re tellin’ yourself is right, givin’ him space and time to sort his own self out, when you know it’s wrong. Garrett Merrick didn’t sit at my table tonight, honey. And you need not to waste any time findin’ out what took him away from that table, which meant he took himself away from you.”

“There’s a lot goin’ on that you don’t know, Mom,” I shared.

I shared it and it was lame.

“I know this,” she returned instantly. “I know he knows he sat at my table as the man who brought my two babies in his truck to my home to eat my food with the possibility he’d be at that table a lot in future. He knows me, but he knows what tonight meant. So he would know not to mess that up, no matter what’s goin’ on.”

“He was just quiet,” I told her.

“He wasn’t quiet, Cheryl. Half the time he wasn’t even here.”

She was right and she was also telling me not to fuck this up.

I was just so good at fucking things up, I didn’t know another way to be.

And the biggest part about that was, Merry’s retreat scared the shit out of me.

Mia Merrick didn’t have it in her to fight for her man and I had no problem pointing that out.

Faced with just a taste of what she’d had shoved down her throat, the acid of it burned.

And if I let my head go there, the scary it was would be terrifying.

“Talk to him,” Mom urged on a whisper. “I’ll tell you this, baby girl, that happened tonight at my table and you have to deal. Because that man’s got a woman in his life now, a woman with a son. And he’s lookin’ for a house. And that says other things. I’m not tellin’ you to get things straight with him because I want my girl’s hooks in a good man. I’m tellin’ you to get things straight for him because I know what he’s got with you. I know what my grandbaby will give him. I know that man is far from stupid. I know he deserves good in his life. And I know he’ll kick his own behind and not bounce back from that, he lets you slip through his fingers.”

I loved my mom. I’d fucked her over like I’d fucked a lot of shit in my life.

But I loved her because I did all that and she still said what she just said, which meant she loved the hell out of me.

I looked into her eyes. Then I nodded.

After that, I headed to the table to get the dishes.

It was a school night, so even though we had some time to visit after the dishes were done, we didn’t have a lot.

And through that time, Merry again gave Ethan what he needed but only what he had to give to Mom and me.

This meant she gave me a telling look after the hug we exchanged before we left. But she pretended like it was all good with the warm hugs and good-byes she gave Merry and Ethan.

Ethan chattered on the way home. Ethan chattered when we got home. And Ethan didn’t hide his disappointment when I shared it was bedtime.

He didn’t fight me, though, because it actually wasn’t bedtime. It was half an hour after bedtime, so he knew he’d already gotten a reprieve.

What freaked me (further) was that Merry took Ethan’s bedtime as his opportunity to leave rather than what we did last night after Ethan went to bed—taking time, being together, whispering to each other, laughing quiet so we wouldn’t wake my kid up, and making out.

He gave Ethan another man-to-man handshake.

He gave me a distracted kiss on the cheek.

Then he took off.

The only good part about this was that my son was growing up and there wasn’t a lot he didn’t notice. But he wasn’t grown up enough to know that a man like Merry didn’t kiss his woman good night like that.

Obviously, I didn’t educate him.

I got him to bed and then I sat on my couch with my phone in my hand.

I started a dozen texts.

I couldn’t figure out which words to use, so I erased everything.

I looked at the clock, then I turned my head and looked at the wall, well beyond which was the house that Tilly lived in.

And Tilly was a late-night talk show girl.

“Started the habit with Johnny Carson, honey, a habit that’s hard to break,” she’d told me.

Before I could talk myself out of it, which would mean talking myself into fucking things up with Merry, I pulled my boots back on, grabbed my purse, my jacket, and my keys, and headed out.

Tilly’s house was quiet and dark except for the flickering light of a TV coming from her curtains.

I knocked not too loud but also called out, “Tilly, it’s Cher.”

The door opened almost immediately and I looked down at the round woman with curly hair that was an equal mix of black and steel, who had big blue eyes in a face as round as her body.

“Is everything okay, Cher?”

“Listen, I know this is askin’ a lot, but I need to ask if you’d go over and stay with Ethan. He’s sleepin’, but I…” Shit, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck. “I don’t know if you heard, but I’m seein’ Garrett Merrick and there are some important things I gotta talk about with him. We couldn’t do that with Ethan around, and Merry went home before we got to it. It’s not stuff you can talk about over the phone either. I know this is selfish, but I can’t sleep, Till. I gotta go over to Merry’s and talk things out.”

“I’m in my slippers, hon. Let me get my shoes,” she said instantly.

Totally a good neighbor.

And she’d so totally heard about me and Merry.

She got her shoes.

I followed her over to my house and sat in my car until I saw the door close behind her. Then I sat in it until I saw my curtains flickering with the late show on TV.

After that, I backed out.

I hit Merry’s complex, and before I could turn tail and do the easy thing rather than doing what I’d promised him I would do and give us the best shot I could give, I got out of my car and hauled my ass up to his place.

There was a window in his apartment that faced the landing. No light.

I knocked as loud as I could without being obnoxious to him or his neighbors.

It took too much time (probably ten seconds) before dim light came from the blinds at his front window. I heard the locks go and the door was opened.

Not opened.

Hauled open.

“Fuck, Cher, is everything okay?”

I looked up at his face, lit by the outside lights on his landing, and saw distant-Merry was not with me.

He looked worried.

But he smelled like cigarettes and it hit me it’d been a while since I’d smelled that on Merry.

“I don’t know, baby, is it?” I asked carefully.

“Where’s Ethan?” he asked in return, his gaze flicking beyond me.

“Tilly’s at the house keepin’ an eye on things until I get back.”

Merry’s eyes narrowed when they came back to me. “Babe, it’s nearly eleven.”

I knew that. I just didn’t know why he was telling me that. He couldn’t be so far gone he didn’t know why I was there.

Could he?

“We have to talk,” I told him.

“About what?” he asked.

“About you checkin’ out at dinner tonight.”

There it was. I saw it happen and it freaked my shit right out.

The door closed on his soul and that was written all over his face.

“I didn’t check out at dinner tonight,” he lied.

“Merry—”

“I had my ass in a seat, eatin’ tater tot casserole, and you were right there with me.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

His brows snapped together. “You mean to make problems that aren’t there?”

Seriously?

“Merry, you checked out.”

He shook his head at the same time he sighed. “Get back to Ethan, Cher.”

I lifted a hand. “Merry—”

“It’s late. Get back to your kid.”

“Dammit, Merry,” I snapped. “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Boss, you are not talkin’ to a princess who could climb on top of a mattress, feel a pea, and bitch about that shit. You’re talkin’ to me—a real woman who knows what’s important,” I snapped. “And you checked out tonight. Now, you gotta know that I know, like every-fuckin’-body knows, a Merrick checks out, you don’t dick around with checkin’ him back in.”

His face went hard. “We’ll talk about this on Saturday.”

So there was something to talk about.

And he wanted to wait until Saturday. Two whole days for him to retreat further from me?

“We’ll talk about it now.”

“Listen, Cher, I do not need another woman at my door wantin’ a chat with me when I do not want that shit.”

A low blow, pairing me with Mia to push me away.

I stared at him.

Then I pushed right in.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

I went to the back of his couch, threw my bag and keys in the seat, and turned to him, yanking my jacket off.

“Know this play too,” he stated. “Not in the mood to chat and not in the mood for a woman to fall on my dick, thinkin’ that says everything.”

That was an outrageously low blow.

Shit.

Okay, I needed to hold it together, not go batshit crazy and mouth off, saying something I’d regret.

I took in a deep breath and draped my jacket over the back of the couch to give myself time to do that.

Only then did I look at him.

“What triggered it?” I asked quietly.

He stared at me before he threw the door to, turned back to me, and crossed his arms on his chest.

But he didn’t speak.

“What’s fuckin’ with your head, Merry?” I pushed.

“Right now, you,” he returned.

“Did I do something before?”

He shook his head, murmuring, “Jesus, Cher.”

I kept at him.

“Ethan?”

He stopped shaking his head and just looked at me.

“Mom?” I continued.

He didn’t answer.

I took him in. Still in his nice button-up shirt, this one navy, perfect for his eyes, perfect for his coloring. Dark jeans that fit good. A fantastic belt. Nice but casual boots. That thick, dark hair that, even though I knew he was in his early forties, had not even a strand of silver in it. Set features in a strong, handsome face.

Five hours ago, all that was mine.

Now he was withholding it from me.

I wanted it back.

I closed my eyes, opened them and whispered, “You mean the world to me.”

His tall, lean body jerked only slightly, like he caught it and tried to check it before the movement gave him away.

But I saw it.

“For a week, I’ve been happy,” I told him.

“Cher—”

“I got a good mom. I got a good kid. I got good friends. It’s not like I’ve never been happy. But with you, havin’ you, I’ve been happy.”

His voice gentled as he said, “We’ll talk about this Saturday, Cherie.”

“There is no way in fuck, Garrett, that I’m givin’ you two full days to lock yourself away from me,” I replied. “Ethan’s asleep. He’s good. Tilly’s with him. And now I’m here, askin’ you to talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” he declared. “We’re fine. You’re makin’ a drama out of nothing.”

“And you’re standin’ there, lyin’ to me.”

Any gentle I’d gained took a hike.

“You know me, but you don’t know me enough to say shit like that to me.”

“Talk to me,” I repeated.

“You need to go home, babe.”

“What tripped it?” I asked.

“Cher, won’t say it again. You need to get your ass home.”

“What took you away from me tonight?”

“We’re not talkin’ about this.”

I threw out both arms, leaned toward him, and lost it.

“What took you away from me?” I shrieked.

I took an automatic step back and hit couch when he leaned my way, his face twisted in a way the feeling it expressed hurt me, he slammed his fists to his hips, and roared, “Flowers!”

I stood still, finding myself suddenly breathing so heavy, my chest was actually heaving.

Because I just witnessed Merry going from gentle to pissed to impatient to destroyed.

Staring at that look on his face, I had no fucking clue what to do.

And that look scared the living shit out of me.

“Flowers?” my mouth whispered for me.

Merry studied me. Then he moved jerkily, prowling toward the dining room table, lifting his hand and tearing it through his hair, moving like a caged animal, until he stopped and turned back to me.

“Fuck,” he snarled.

I didn’t move an inch except to follow him with my eyes.

“Flowers, baby?” I prompted.

“Fuck,” he repeated.

“Flowers, Merry.”

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“What do you need?” I asked quickly.

He looked to the side and I saw his jaw tight, his cheek ticking.

“Merry, what do you need?”

He looked back to me and announced, “I’m a cop.”

“I know that,” I told him carefully.

“You get that?” he shot back.

I thought I did, but the way he was speaking, I wasn’t sure. So I just nodded.

“You need to get that, Cher,” he stated roughly.

“I get that, Merry.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” I promised, even though I wasn’t sure I did.

“We eat, we do it in front of the fucking TV.”

His abrupt subject changes were bizarre, and even if I was getting him (which I wasn’t sure I was), with the quickness of those changes, I wasn’t keeping up.

“Okay,” I said hesitantly.

“No fuckin’ flowers.”

“No flowers, Merry,” I agreed.

“Your mom wants me back, I’ll eat at her table. But you tell her that shit—no flowers.”

I nodded.

He said no more.

“Why no flowers, baby?” I asked quietly.

“Cecelia liked flowers.”

I shook my head.

His baby niece liked flowers?

“I—”

“My mother, Cher.”

I shut my mouth.

Shit.

Shit.

Fucking shit.

“We Merricks aren’t real good at sittin’ down with family.”

“Your mom liked doin’ that,” I whispered.

“Every night. No fail. And either Dad bought ’em or she got ’em herself, but in our house, there were lots of flowers.”

God.

God, Merry.

“Weak,” he grunted, that one word sounding torn from him in a way so extreme, it also ripped through me.

“What?” I asked, knowing we were now somewhere else. I wasn’t keeping up, but it was essential that I did.

“This shit. I’m fuckin’ forty-two and still not over it. It’s weak.”

Was he crazy?

“I dread it,” I told him.

“Bet you do,” he said like he knew what he was talking about.

Maybe he did.

I told him anyway.

“The day I lose her…I dread it. She’s been there. Always been there. I fucked up, Merry. You know I did. But it was worse when I was a kid. Christ, when I was a teenager, I fucked up, but she was always there. She held my hand when I pushed out Ethan. She looks after him just as much as me. She’s always there and I love that. I love her. But I know she’s gonna go. It’s the way it is. And I dread it. I know I’ll never get over it. It’ll be like a piece was torn from my heart and it’ll never beat the same way again. I know that. And I also know feelin’ that feeling is so far from weak it isn’t funny.”

Merry didn’t move, not even his mouth.

“Lord forbid it happens anything like the way you lost yours. Won’t be in my power however it goes down. But the way you lost your momma, Merry…God.” I shook my head, feeling moist in my eyes. “The beauty you are, standin’ right there? I don’t know how that could be. I’m breakin’ my back to give Ethan good and I’m doin’ it with fingers crossed, hopin’ he grows up half the man you are. You lost your momma and you’re all that.” I swung a hand to him. “You’re fuckin’ straight up crazy if you think any of that is weak. Love is not weak. Grief is not weak. Lovin’ her so much you’re givin’ that to her decades after she’s been gone and you’re still standing? Baby, seriously, how the fuck can you think that’s weak?”

“Come here, Cher,” he ordered.

“No,” I denied, thinking I needed to sort his shit out. “Answer me.”

“Come…” he drew in a breath that didn’t work and I knew it when the next was growled, “here, Cher.”

I looked into his eyes.

Then I walked there.

Four feet away, he lunged at me, hooked my waist with his arm, and I was flying through the air. My surprised cry stuck in my throat when my back hit the dining room table with Merry bent over me.

He kissed me, hard and wet and brutal, his hands tearing at my clothes.

I tried to get to his.

He broke the kiss and ordered, “Arms over your head, Cherie.”

“Baby,” I whispered.

“Do it,” he grunted.

I lifted my arms over my head, staring into his blue eyes, panting.

He dropped his mouth to mine and took it in another savage kiss.

Then I kept my arms over my head as he pulled off my top.

I kept them over my head as he yanked off my boots.

I kept them over my head as he tore my jeans and panties down my legs.

I kept them over my head as he tugged the cup of my bra down my tit and went at me, tonguing, sucking, biting.

I kept them over my head (but did it squirming) as he went after the other tit.

And I kept them over my head when he lifted his head and watched me as his hand dove between my legs.

“Bein’ good,” he muttered thickly.

“Give you what you need,” I panted back.

Emotion rolled over his face, God, so much of it, it was a wonder it didn’t drown me.

He drove two fingers inside and found my clit with his thumb.

“Give that back,” he growled.

Fuck, he did. He gave that back. So good. So hot. I forgot what was going on in my need for him and I shifted my arms so I could touch him.

“Baby.”

My eyes had closed, and when he said that, his fingers stilled, so I opened them.

I settled my arms over my head again.

He went back at me.

I arched, driving down into his hand, begging for more.

He gave it.

I rode it.

“Don’t you come, Cherie,” he ordered.

I tried to focus. “Merry.”

“You come when I got my dick in you.”

He kept at me and I whimpered.

He was asking the impossible.

But I was going to do my all to give it to him.

He dipped in and his mouth brushed mine. “Give me what I need.”

“Okay, honey.”

He stayed close but tipped his chin down to watch what he was doing to me.

God.

Hot.

“Need your cock, baby,” I begged.

“Give me more.”

I gave him more, writhing on his dining room table as he toyed with me.

“Need you, Merry,” I gasped. “And wanna hold on when you fuck me.”

He looked from his hand between my legs into my eyes.

“You gonna give me what I need?”

I stared into his eyes and whispered, “Always.”

On a groan, his mouth took mine as his hand slid away.

That was when I moaned in disappointment against his tongue.