"Pretending is over, Liis." Thomas took a step toward me and gently pulled at my towel. It fell to the floor, and then he tugged at his own. "Say it," he said, his voice low and controlled. He cupped each side of my face in his hands. He leaned down but stopped less than an inch from my lips.
"Okay," I whispered.
"Okay what?"
He pressed his mouth against mine. His fingers tangled in my hair as he jerked me against his body. He took a step, guiding me backward, until my back collided with the wall. I gasped, and his tongue slid through my parted lips, brushing gently against mine as if he were searching for the answer. He pulled away, leaving me breathless and craving another taste.
"Okay," I breathed, unashamed of the begging in my voice. "We can stop pretending."
He lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his backside. He held me just high enough that I could feel the tip of his hardness against the tender pink skin between my thighs.
I sank my fingers into his shoulders, bracing myself for the same overwhelming feeling he'd sent through my body the first night we met. Just lowering me another inch, he would satisfy every fantasy I'd had for the last three weeks.
But he didn't move. He was waiting for something.
I touched my lips to his ear, biting my lip at the anticipation of what I was about to say and what it would lead to. "We can stop pretending, sir."
Thomas relaxed, and then in a slow, controlled movement, he lowered my body down. I moaned the moment he entered me, letting the soft hum escape my lips until his length completely filled me. I pressed my cheek hard against his as my nails bit into the flesh of his thick shoulders. With little effort, he lifted me and then pulled me down again, groaning in reaction.
"Fuck," he said simply, his eyes closed.
Each thrust became more rhythmic, sending flashes of the most wonderful, overwhelming pain through every nerve in my body. He struggled to keep quiet, his muffled grunts getting louder with each passing minute.
"We've gotta...damn it," he breathed.
"Don't stop," I begged.
"You feel too good," he whispered, setting me down on my feet.
Before I could protest, he flipped me around and pushed me toward the wall. My chest and palms were flat against the paint, and I grinned.
Thomas put his hand on my cheek, and I turned just enough to kiss his fingertips. Then, I opened my mouth, letting him slip a finger inside. I pulled back, sucking lightly, and he sighed.
He gently ran his thumb down the line of my jaw, my neck, and then my shoulder. From there, he slid his palm down the length of my spine, over the curves of my backside, and then settled between my thighs. He put gentle pressure on one of my legs, guiding it away from the other. I gladly spread them apart and then placed my palms on the wall, bracing myself, as he yanked my hips back.
With his hand, he slowly guided himself inside me. He didn't pull out. Instead, he moved his hips in a subtle circular motion, savoring the warm sensation of my embrace.
He gripped my hip with one hand and reached around with the other, touching the most sensitive parts of my skin. He moved his middle finger in small circles, and then he pulled back his hips. He groaned as he rocked against me.
I bent over, pressing my backside against him, allowing Thomas to sink himself as deeply as he wanted.
With every thrust, his thick fingers dug into my thighs, guiding me to the very edge of pleasure. I bit my lip, forbidding myself to cry out, and just as a thin sheen of sweat formed on my skin, we tumbled over together.
I REACHED ACROSS THOMAS'S BARE CHEST to turn off the obnoxious noise coming from his cell phone. The movement made evident the soreness and swelling between my legs from the hours of sex the night before, and I rested my head on his rippled abdomen, smiling at the memories flashing in my mind.
Thomas stretched, his legs too long for the bed. The sheets rustled as he stirred, and I ran my fingers over his soft skin, surrounded by the trinkets and trophies of his childhood.
With sleepy eyes, he took one look at me and smiled. He tugged on me until we were face-to-face, and then he wrapped both of his arms around my shoulders, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
I kissed the crown of his head and hummed in total satisfaction. No one had ever made me feel so right about being wrong.
"Morning, baby," Thomas said, his voice sounding strained and hoarse. He rubbed his feet on mine as he carefully raked my ratted hair away from my face. "I probably shouldn't assume, but being a woman married to her career..."
"Yes," I said. "Birth control is in place and good for five years."
He kissed my cheek. "Just checking. I might have gotten a little carried away last night."
"I'm not complaining," I said with a tired smile. "Flight leaves in four hours."
He stretched again, still keeping one arm hooked around my neck. He pulled me to him and kissed my temple. "If this weekend wasn't so important, I'd make you stay in bed with me all day."
"We can do that when we get back to San Diego."
He squeezed me. "Does that mean you're finally available?"
I hugged him back. "No," I said, smiling at his reaction. "I'm with someone."
Thomas pressed his head back against his pillow to look me in the eyes. "Last night, I realized when I was talking to Camille...those relationships didn't work out, but it wasn't because of the job. It's because we weren't invested enough in them."
I eyed him, feigning suspicion. "Are you invested in me?"
"I'm pleading the fifth but only in the interest of not scaring you off with the answer."
I shook my head and smiled.
He touched my hair. "I like this look on you."
I rolled my eyes. "Shut up."
"I'm completely serious. I've never seen you so beautiful, and that's saying something. The first time I saw you...I mean, the very moment I looked over from my barstool and saw your face, I panicked, wondering how in the hell I was going to get your attention and then worrying how I would keep it when I did."
"You got my attention at work the next day."
Thomas looked ashamed. "I don't get surprised very often. I was probably more of an asshole than normal, trying to keep everyone from knowing, and then when it hit me that I'd put you in danger--"
I touched his lips with my finger, and then I realized I could kiss them if I wanted. Immediately, I took the opportunity. They were soft and warm, and I had trouble pulling away, but even when I tried, Thomas placed his hand on my cheek, holding me while he caressed my tongue with his.
My God, he was perfection. I silently scolded myself for waiting that long to allow myself to enjoy him.
When he finally released me, he only pulled away a few centimeters, brushing his lips against mine. "I've always been a morning person, but I have no idea how I'm going to get out of this bed with you in it."
"Tommy!" Jim yelled from downstairs. "Get your ass down here and make your mom's omelets!"
Thomas blinked. "The idea just came to me."
I pulled on a loose-fitting tank top and maxi skirt. Thomas pulled a white V-neck T-shirt over his head and then slipped on a pair of khaki cargo shorts.
He rubbed his hands together. "Holy shit, it's cold," he said, sliding his arms into his sport coat. "But I don't want to sweat my ass off when we get off the plane in Charlotte Amalie."
"I had the same idea," I said, pulling on my sweater.
"I might have a..." He opened his closet and pulled something off a hanger before tossing it to me.
I held up the gray hoodie with navy writing that read ESU WILDCATS. It was a men's medium. "When did you wear this? As a toddler?"
"As a college freshman. You can have it."
I took off my sweater and pulled his hoodie over my head, feeling extremely foolish about how giddy it made me.
We packed the few things we'd removed from our luggage, and then Thomas carried our luggage downstairs while I brushed the sex tangles from my hair. I made the bed and gathered the d
irty laundry, but before leaving, I took one last longing look at the room. This was the site of the beginning of what was to come, whatever that was.
I descended the stairs, grinning at Thomas standing in front of the stove, his father holding the salt and pepper.
Jim shrugged. "No one else but Tommy can make omelets like Diane, so I get them when I can."
"I'm going to have to try it one day," I said, grinning even wider when Thomas turned to wink at me. "Where is the laundry room?"
Jim put the spices on the counter and walked over to me with his arms open. "Let me."
I felt weird about handing Jim those towels, mostly because it was the last thing Thomas and I had each worn before having the best sex of my life, but I didn't want to argue or explain, so I handed them over.
I walked over to Thomas and slipped my arms around his middle. "If I'd known you could cook, I would have spent more time upstairs."
"We can all cook. Mom taught me. I taught the boys."
The butter in the pan popped, striking my hand. I yanked it back and then shook it. "Ow!"
Thomas dropped the spatula on the counter. He took my hand in both of his and inspected it. "You okay?" he asked.
I nodded.
He lifted my knuckles to his lips, tenderly kissing all four of them. I watched him, in awe of how different he was here than the man he was at the office. No one would believe it if they saw him standing in his dad's kitchen, cooking and kissing the hurt from my hand.
"You're one of the boys, too," I said when he turned to check the progress of the omelet.
"I've tried telling him that for years," Jim said, returning from the hall. "You should have seen him dressing Trenton for his first day of kindergarten. He made sure to fuss like their mom would have."
"I gave him a bath the night before, and he woke up dirty." Thomas frowned. "I had to clean his face four times before he got on the bus."
"You've always taken care of them. Don't think I didn't notice," Jim said, a tinge of regret in his voice.
"I know you did, Dad," Thomas said, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.
Jim crossed his arms over his protruding belly, pointed once at Thomas, and then touched his finger to his mouth. "Do you remember Trav's first day? You all beat the stuffing out of Johnny Bankonich for making Shepley cry?"
Thomas puffed out a laugh. "I remember. Too many kids got their first black eyes from one of the Maddox brothers."
Jim wore a proud smile. "Because you boys protected each other."
"That we did," Thomas said, folding over the omelet in the pan.
"Together, there wasn't anything you couldn't figure out," Jim said. "You'd beat the tar outta one of your brothers, and then you'd beat the tar outta someone else for laughing about you kicking your brother's ass. There's nothing none of you can do that would change how much you mean to each other. Just remember that, son."
Thomas looked at his father for a long time and then cleared his throat. "Thanks, Dad."
"You got a pretty girl there, and I think she's smarter than you. Don't forget that either."
Thomas put Jim's omelet on the plate and handed it to him.
Jim patted Thomas on the shoulder and took his plate to the dining room.
"You want one?" Thomas asked.
"I think I'll just get coffee at the airport," I said.
Thomas smirked. "Are you sure? I make a mean omelet. Don't you like eggs?"
"I do. It's just too early to eat."
"Good. That means I'll get to make you one of these sometime. Camille hated eggs..." He trailed off, instantly regretting his words. "I don't know why the fuck I just said that."
"Because you were thinking about her?"
"It just popped into my head." He looked around. "Being here does weird things to me. I feel like I'm two people. Do you feel different when you're at your parents' house?"
I shook my head. "I'm the same everywhere I go."
Thomas considered that and then nodded, looking down. "We should probably get on the road. I'll go check on Taylor."
He kissed my cheek and then turned left down the hallway. I ambled into the dining room, pulling out a chair next to Jim. The walls were decorated with poker chips along with pictures of dogs and people playing poker.
Jim was enjoying his omelet in silence with a sentimental look on his face. "It's strange how food can remind me of my wife. She was a damn good cook. Damn good. When Thomas makes me one of her omelets, it's almost like she's still here."
"You must miss her, especially during times like today. When is your flight scheduled to leave?"
"I'm leaving later, sis. I'm catching a ride with Trent and Cami. Tyler is, too. We're on the same flight."
Cami. I wondered why Thomas didn't call her that.
"That's good that we can all carpool to the airport."
Thomas and Taylor stood near the front door.
"Are you coming, baby?" Thomas called.
I stood. "See you this evening, Jim."
He winked at me, and I hurried to the door. Thomas held it open for Taylor and me, and then we walked out to Travis's car.
Dawn was two hours away, and the whole town of Eakins seemed to still be asleep. The only sounds were our shoes crunching the frozen dew on the grass.
I stuffed my hands into the front pocket of the hoodie and shivered.
"Sorry," Taylor said, pushing the key remote to unlock the doors and then again to pop the trunk.
Thomas opened the back door for me and then walked the bags to the trunk.
"I should have warmed up the car," Taylor said, standing next to his open door.
"Yeah, that would have been nice," Thomas said, loading our bags and then Taylor's.
"I couldn't sleep last night. I'm freaking out that Falyn's not going to show."
Taylor sat behind the wheel and then waited for Thomas to get in.
He started the car, but he waited to switch on the lights until he backed out of the driveway, so they wouldn't shine into his dad's house. I smiled at the unconsciously sweet gesture.
The dashboard lights made Thomas's and Taylor's faces glow a dim green.
"She'll show," Thomas said.
"I think I'm going to tell her about the chick at the bar," Taylor said. "It's been eating at me."
"Bad idea," Thomas said.
"You don't think he should tell her?" I asked.
"Not if he wants to keep her."
"I didn't cheat on her," Taylor said. "She dumped me."
Thomas looked at him, impatient. "She doesn't care that she broke up with you. You were supposed to be sitting at home, thinking of ways to get her back."
Taylor shook his head. "I was, and then I started feeling like I was going to go crazy, so I bought a plane ticket to San Diego."
Thomas shook his head. "When are you dumbasses going to learn that you can't go off and sleep with someone the second you're rejected? It's not going to make you feel better. Nothing will make you feel better but time."
"Is that what made you feel better?" Taylor asked.
My breath caught.
Thomas craned his neck and glanced back at me. "Maybe now isn't the best time, Taylor."
"Sorry. I just...I need to know--in case she doesn't show. I can't feel like that again, man. It feels like death. Liis, do you know how to get over someone?"
"I, um...I've yet to have my heart broken."
"Really?" Taylor asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
I nodded. "I didn't date much in high school, but it's avoidable. One can analyze behaviors and observe markers that tip off the end of any relationship. It's not that hard to calculate risk."
"Whoa," Taylor said, looking to Thomas. "You've got your hands full with this one."
"Liis has yet to figure out that it's not about math," Thomas said with a smile. "Love isn't about predictions or behavioral markers. It just happens, and you have no control."
I frowned. In the last three weeks, I'd h
ad a glimpse of what Thomas described, and it was becoming obvious that it was going to be something I would have to get used to.
"So, you've only dated guys who didn't make you feel too much," Taylor said.
"Definitely no one I was...invested in."
"Are you invested now?" Taylor asked.
Even from the back, I could see the grin on Thomas's face.
"You're going to let your little brother do your dirty work?" I asked.
"Just answer the question," Thomas said.
"I'm invested," I said.
Taylor and Thomas traded glances.
Then, Thomas turned to me. "If it makes you feel better, I've run the numbers. I'm not going to break your heart."
"Oh," Taylor said, "intellectual foreplay. I don't know what the fuck y'all are talking about, but I'm feeling a little uncomfortable right now."
Thomas smacked the back of Taylor's head.
"Hey! There will be no molesting the driver on this trip!" Taylor said, rubbing the sting from the back of his head.
The plane left the runway just after sunrise. Flight was an amazing thing. In the morning, we could see our breath, and just being outside had hurt our skin. In the afternoon, we were peeling off layers and putting on sunscreen to shield our faces from the bright Caribbean sun.
Thomas opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony of our second-floor room at The Ritz-Carlton where Travis and Abby were getting married--again.
I followed Thomas, resting my hands on the railing and scanning the scenery below. The grounds had been meticulously kept, and there were so many colors and sounds. The birds were calling to each other, but I couldn't see them. The muggy air made taking a breath feel like effort, but I loved it.
"It's beautiful," I said. "Look through the trees. You can see the ocean. I would live here in a heartbeat if the Bureau had an office here."
"We could always retire here," Thomas said.
I looked up at him.
He cringed. "Too honest?"
"Is that what that was?"
He shrugged. "Just thinking out loud." He bent down to peck my cheek and then returned to the room. "I'm going to hop in the shower. Wedding is in ninety minutes."
I turned to take in the scenery again, breathing in the salty thick air. I had just agreed to try a relationship with him, and he was talking about the rest of our lives.
I followed Thomas into the room, but he was already in the shower. I knocked on the door and then opened it.
"Don't say it," Thomas said, scrubbing his hair.