Sustained(23)

“Okay,” Lisa says. “Then what are you offering?”

“Court-mandated therapy, once a week. Monthly progress reports.”

“Twice a week,” she counters. “And I want to pick the therapist. No feel-good quacks permitted.”

“Done.”

Lisa’s gaze travels over me, head to crotch. “I’m surprised by you, Jake. I don’t remember you being so . . . soft.”

I move forward, bracing my hands on the arms of her chair—caging her in. “ ‘Soft’ isn’t in my vocabulary—I’m still as hard as they come.” I smirk. “And after.”

Her eyes settle on my mouth. “Good to hear. Particularly since Ted and I broke up.” She holds up her ringless left hand.

Lisa definitely falls under the “known” category, which means no awkward first-date dinner conversation, no twenty goddamn questions that I don’t want to ask, let alone answer. Nope—it’ll be straight to the fucking.

Excellent.

“It’s a long story,” she says. “Which I’m sure you have no interest in hearing.”

Yes, Lisa knows me well.

“You still like tequila?” I ask.

“Absolutely. You still have my number?”

“I do.”

Her smile is slow and full of promise. “Good. Use it.”

I stand up and walk toward the door. “I’ll do that.”

“And I’ll get started on the paperwork.”

• • •

A few hours later, after approval from child services and a quick compulsory appearance before an indifferent judge, Rory walks out of the courthouse with us. We head back to my office to gather his many siblings. They all seem happy to see him—if the affectionate “stupid idiot” and eager questions about his stay in “jail” are any indication. The sky is dark by the time I escort Chelsea and her charges back out to her car. I wait next to the driver’s-side door as she gets them loaded and buckled in.

Then she comes around and stands in front of me, all warm eyes and soft gratitude. And I’m struck again by the smooth flawlessness of her skin beneath the glow of the streetlight.

Fucking gorgeous.

This close, I notice the adorable dusting of freckles across the bridge of that pert nose and wonder if she has them anywhere else. It’ll take a slow, exhaustive search to find out. And I’m just the guy for the job.

She pushes her hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Jake, so much. I don’t know what I would’ve—”

“Aunt Chelsea, I’m starving!”

“Can we get McDonald’s?”

“Do you know what they put in McDonald’s? Even insects won’t eat it.”

“Shut up, Raymond! Don’t ruin fast food for me!”

“You shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“Aunt Chelsea!”

“Hiiiiiii!”

I can’t help but laugh. And wonder if she owns earplugs.

Chelsea blows out a breath through her perfect, smiling lips. “I should go before they start eating each other.”

“That might not be a bad thing. There are enough of them to spare.”

She shakes her head and climbs into the truck, then rolls down the window to say, “Thank you again. I owe you, Jake.”

I tap the side of the truck as she slowly pulls away. “Yes, you do.”

And that’s a debt I can’t wait to collect.

Soon.





8


Scorching lips suck at the skin along my neck—teeth nipping, tongue-laving suction. Nails scrape along my abs, across my chest, blazing a hard trail of need that leads straight to my cock. Deft fingers work the buttons on my shirt and hot blood pools in my pelvis.

It’s been so long—too long—but the dry spell ends tonight.

Fucking finally.

I cradle her face in my hands and move my mouth over hers roughly. My tongue plunges and swirls, tasting tequila. So good.

Friday afternoon, I got around to dialing Lisa DiMaggio. Because I learn from my mistakes, I asked about her and Ted’s breakup—it wasn’t because of cheating. Then I asked if she’d been tested recently. Miraculously she had, and she was clean. It was like the universe was telling me, “You’ve suffered enough, poor man.”

We made plans for her place on Friday night, and I brought a bottle of Patrón for Lisa and a bottle of red wine for me that I ended up leaving in the car.

Lisa peels open my shirt, running her palms across my pecs and over my shoulders. “God, your tattoos.” She moans appreciatively, tracing the ink first with her hands, then with her lips. “These are so fucking hot. They’re my favorite part.”

I work on her earlobe, flicking at it with my tongue like it’s a clit. And I chuckle. “I thought my cock was your favorite.”