Seducing Sheri (Codename Heartthrob #2)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

Sheri

Silence settles over the house as I close the door to the boys’ room.

They’re so busy during the day, like tiny tornados sweeping through the house. It does my heart good to see them back to their old selves. Well, almost. Luke still has nightmares he’s unable to articulate clearly, and James is wetting the bed again but, at least during the day, they’re back to laughing, running around, playing, and fighting with each other.

Sighing, I make a mental note to set up an appointment for the boys with my therapist. I go through my usual night routine mechanically, tired to my soul but knowing sleep will prove as elusive as ever. It has been since I lost Maverick. Between grieving his loss and being hyper-aware that the boys need me, more than ever now, I find it difficult to get the rest I so desperately need.

I’m about to climb into bed when I remember I haven’t checked the doors and windows downstairs. Tears fill my eyes as I make my way down. Yes, it’s something I had to do myself, even when Mav was alive, but it was his job when he was home, and it still hurts, six months later, knowing he’ll never come home to do it again.

Pausing on the stairs, I dash away the teardrops tracking down my cheeks. Able to see again and not risk a tumble down the staircase, I make it to the main floor and do my rounds. Secure in the knowledge our home is locked up tight, I head back to my room and the steamy new book waiting there for me.

Books and Leila have become my refuge. A place to leave my own worries behind as I focus on them.

I still can’t believe that Merlin broke things off so abruptly almost six months ago, not long after Maverick’s death. Right from the time they came home, he was different with her. Moody, quiet, distant. We all just put it down to grief.

Mav’s loss has been hard on all of us. I guess harder on Merlin than any of us realized. Dealing with my own stuff, I never saw it coming. But concentrating on keeping Leila going, keeping her here with us, has given me something other than my own pain to focus on.

With a sigh, I crawl under the covers and push my dark thoughts away. Sleep is elusive enough without depressing myself before bedtime. Grabbing the paperback off my nightstand, I get comfortable, the better to get lost in the story.

And that’s exactly what I do — lose myself in the words of the talented author, allowing myself to be transported to someone else’s world, their problems, their passion. Because, damn, is this story spicy. For the first time in these past months, I feel desire building, being fed by the words on the page. The image the author is so creatively painting in my mind.

I’m surprised the make-up sex the main characters are indulging in hasn’t set fire to the page I’m currently reading. Feeling hot and bothered myself, I know I won’t be able to settle if I don’t take care of it. I pull my T-shirt up to expose my breasts and reach for a nipple, budded tight with desire.

Closing my eyes, I imagine it’s Maverick’s hand instead of my own and roll the little bud between my fingers, just as I loved how he did. I tug and feel the sensation all the way down to my core, going wet in the process.

So hot now, I need to relieve the pressure; my hand trails over my torso as if it has a will of its own. My stomach clenches in anticipation, and then I touch my woefully neglected clit, almost coming off the bed at the sensation. I can’t stop the moan that bubbles up as if from the deepest recesses of my body and spills out of my mouth.

Tension building, need rioting through me, I rub the stiff little nubbin beneath my finger harder and harder, but it’s not enough. So, I dig my trusty vibrator out of my drawer and pray there’s still enough battery power left in it to get me off.

Touching the tip to my clit, I turn it on. Holy Mother of Mercy, that feels so good I feel my body tighten. The powerful little cylinder in my hand has me so close to coming within scant seconds, and as my body readies itself to freefall into what will probably be a monster orgasm, I hear Luke cry out.

No, damn it.

So damn close, but the moment I heard my baby, all desire disappears, like air escaping a balloon. I can identify. I’m feeling pretty deflated at this moment. Duty calls, so I yank up my PJ pants and hurry to soothe my boy.

I can hear him thrashing around as I open the bedroom door, and my heart squeezes. These precious souls are struggling as much, if not more, than I am. At least I can understand what’s happened. They’re so lost, trying to figure out why Daddy isn’t coming home to them.

Despite the frustration of the orgasm denied to me, I have to put my children’s needs before my own and offer them patience and understanding in this moment, when all I want to do is throw things and rail against a God I feel has abandoned me.

Another piercing scream cuts through the silence of the night and has me dashing into the boys’ room. Before Mav’s death, they each had their own rooms. Now, they can’t be out of each other’s sight without a meltdown. Our world is in complete turmoil, completely adrift, and we’re struggling to find solid ground.

Merlin, Ace, and the other guys have been amazing. They come by regularly to spend time with the boys, checking in to see how we’re all doing. As much as I appreciate them, they’re no replacement for what we’ve lost.

Ace, particularly, has been brilliant. He stops by to hang out, he takes the boys out so I can have some time to breathe, oftentimes he’ll bring takeout. He’s been an absolute sanity-saver. Between him offering his unstinting support, and Leila giving me something other than this awful grief to focus on, I’m not sure I’d have made it this far.

I gather Luke up in my arms, careful to avoid thrashing little limbs, and rock him while singing the Brahm’s Lullaby to him. Just like I used to do when they were babies. Slowly, he begins to calm down, and eventually he settles.

Looking down at my sweet boy, tears in my eyes, I find his deep blue ones — so much like his father’s — focused on me. A world of pain swirls in those expressive orbs, and the jagged edges of that pain slice my heart to shreds.

“Hey buddy, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” I drop a kiss on his sweaty forehead and hug him tighter.

“Mama,” James says.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. Want to snuggle with Luke and me?”

He doesn’t answer, but seconds later his warm little body wiggles into my embrace. Awkwardly, I shift fully onto the mattress, a child in each arm, Luke and James clinging to me. I am their only anchor now in this sea of fear and uncertainty, and that responsibility weighs heavy on me.

I hate that through no fault of our own we’re all hostage to pain like nothing experienced before for having loved this one man. The one man who was our entire world. And now we have to figure out a life without him in it.

And hopefully, one day, it won’t hurt so fucking bad.