Chapter 17 Misty #2
“Your ex. The guy I’m supposed to kill. You ever think about all the bad sex you’ve had in that bed?” His head inclines slightly. “I’m not really here for your healing journey, but I don’t mind fucking him out of this bed if you want me to. You did pay me a lot of money.”
“On accident,” I remind him.
Talbot turns his head to me. “You know you secretly want him out of your life. Considering I bet he never even made you come, sounds like he has it coming.”
Talbot raises his leg to prop one of his dirty boots on the edge of the mattress.
“You know what? Off! Get off!”
Talbot curses as I try to push him off the bed.
“You need to be clean before you get on that.”
He steps out of his boot.
“There’s a guest bathroom downstairs.”
“Yeah, go ahead and send the hired help to the servant’s quarters.
” He kicks off his other shoe. “Can’t use the front door.
Can’t drink out of a glass.” He bends down to grab the heavy boots and pauses.
“Shoot, Gumdrop.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.
“I didn’t think you, of all people, would be carrying on an emotional affair in the middle of our fake relationship. It’s like you don’t believe in us.”
He reaches one of those long arms under my bed. “What the hell?”
“You can’t just go snooping around,” I screech as he pulls out… yep, the love box with Austen’s photo all over it.
Talbot fiddles with the lock. “Holy shit, you do have a shrine to Austen.”
“It’s not a shrine, and it’s not yours. Put it back.” I jump on him, tackling him, trying to pin him. It’s like trying to pin an alligator.
In a flash, he flips us over and pins me on the floor under him, his hands on my wrists, the huge mass of him flattening me into the carpet.
His hips dig into my waist.
“Don’t,” he snarls softly, “attack me. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
“Then don’t touch my stuff.” I strain against him.
He moves my wrists to right above my head so that he can pin me down with one muscular, tattooed arm. I might as well be chained to the floor. I can’t move him. The sad fact is that his Christmas package digging into my pelvis is the most action I’ve seen in a while.
I need to switch my hobby from snacking and reading to weightlifting. It’s embarrassing that I can’t even budge him.
My eyes widen as he pulls out a knife.
“Don’t look so excited, Gumdrop.” He runs the flat of the blade over my lips then, with a flick of his wrist, pops the lock on the love box. “If there’s baby teeth in here, I might just have to fuck you right now out of principle,” he says like he’s offering to give me a Starbucks gift card.
I stifle a strangled noise.
“And don’t worry, I’m judging you pretty harshly here.” He rummages around in the carefully organized box.
“A Valentine’s Day card, generic Spiderman. ‘Real heroes have heart.’ And there’s stickers inside. Someone splurged, especially since he bought these for the whole class.”
“Is this a used condom?” He lets up on my wrists so he can lean over to dig in the box.
I sit up.
He shoves me back down on the floor, hard, one hand right on my chest between my boobs. “Gumdrop.”
“That’s not a condom,” I hiss, “and I don’t need you to judge me.”
Talbot holds up the plastic baggie with the tip of his knife. He rocks back on his haunches, the friction sending thrills of… something… probably apprehension or disgust, definitely not pleasure—through my stomach.
“It’s part of a flower,” I admit.
“From...?” He twirls the knife.
“From my mom and Ryan’s wedding. Austen was there, and so was I.”
“What kind of twelve-year-old boy in the twenty-first century gives a girl he likes a flower?”
“He didn’t give it to me. I caught my mom’s bouquet. Well, went in more like a linebacker and fought for the bouquet. Grandma Pam made me give it to one of the WAGs, but I stole that flower out of it. It means something. It means Austen and I were next, that we were meant to be together.”
“Means you’re delusional.”
It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.
“Look, I typically don’t offer this, but I also have on occasion done kidnappings. I can nab him coming out of a hockey game late one night and transport him to a location of your choosing. You are gonna need a good steel cage in your basement, FYI.”
“I don’t have house money,” I tell him sadly, “especially not a house with a basement.”
He reaches up behind him and tugs off the gray icing-spattered T-shirt.
“Glad to see I’m not the most fucked-up person in this room, Gumdrop.”
My hands flutter off the carpet like I’m going to do something crazy and run them down the ripple of abs and pecs, down, down, to the belt buckle that settles at the V of muscle that disappears down his waistband of his jeans.
He smirks when he catches me looking. “You can touch if you want, Gumdrop.”
I shake my head, mouth dry. “I’m, you know, in love with Austen.”
“Your funeral. Or his.” He leaps up off me.
The loss of warmth suddenly makes me tremble.
His hand’s already on his belt, pulling it off and dumping it on the chair by the fireplace. “Don’t worry, I won’t jack off in your mom’s shower.”
Normally, I like a nice long hot shower, maybe a little me time when I imagine Austen in there with me. I’m scrubbing my skin with the gingerbread body wash. I quickly turn the water to freezing cold when my brain unhelpfully suggests that it’s Talbot’s hands there.
I’m tired. I didn’t eat enough protein. It’s been a long day.
My shoulders relax when I step back into my warm, blessedly empty bedroom, the fire crackling merrily away.
I love Christmas movies any time of year, but there’s something extra magical about snow falling outside, my corgi snoozing on the blankets beside me, and my favorite holiday movies playing on my laptop while I crochet.
Talbot’s left his ratty skullcap on the window seat. I inspect it and rummage around for matching yarn. I have a gray that’s almost a perfect match.
I swoon when Jude Law comes on the screen of my laptop, finish off the last of the stitches on the hat, and take a sip of my apple-spice tea. My stomach growls.
On-screen, someone is eating cake.
I eye the paper sack of Christmas cookies Talbot set on the table.
I force myself to focus on the booties I’m crocheting for my baby brother.
The cookies call to me.
I shouldn’t eat one, right? Talbot will be back any minute.
Wait…
Talbot’s been gone an awful long time.
My crochet hook freezes.
Austen is in Brielle’s room one floor down. Talbot could be there right now.
My feet hit the cold floor, and I trip over my slippers as I struggle to stuff my arms in the robe.
I shouldn’t have sent him to the other bathroom. I should have sucked it up and let him stay up here. He can judge my collection of body wash.
I sneak down the stairs, hissing, “Talbot. Talbot.”
The door to Brielle’s room is open just a crack. I crouch down on my hands and knees and crawl past it. I don’t hear anything, but that doesn’t mean the hitman isn’t in there.
“Talbot?” I whisper.
The door to the guest bathroom is closed. Back pressed against the wall, I shimmy to the door. Light pools underneath the crack.
Someone’s in there. I see the shadows. Water runs then shuts off.
Is it Talbot? Is he scrubbing the blood off of his clothes?
What if it’s actually Austen, though, and Brielle or, worse, Grandma Pam catches me out here spying on him?
I need to know if it’s Talbot. I can’t have a hitman loose in the house.
I sink down and slowly press my face to the floor to try to look under the door.
It flings open. I can’t even scream before a huge hand closes around my neck, dragging me into the warm bathroom.
I catch the dark shadow of his reflection in the foggy mirror, then Talbot’s face is up close to mine. He stares at me with the pale-gray eyes until recognition flits across his face.
“Don’t sneak up on me,” he growls, casually dropping me on the counter.
“You were taking a long time,” I squeak. “I was worried.”
“About Austen.” There’s disgust in the words. “Your stepfather saw me and wanted to lend me some clothes.” The towel around his waist slips a centimeter.
“Then why aren’t you wearing them?” I rub my neck.
“I am not wearing Ryan West’s clothes,” he scoffs, like that’s a horrible thing to even imply.
“But be honest, Gumdrop. Did you come to spy on me, or were you hoping to catch me jerking off in the shower?” Talbot’s fingers trail a line across my neck, not threatening exactly, more like he’s reminding me of who and what he is.
“No woman wants to watch a man jerk off.”
“Oh, do you have experience with that?”
My cheeks are hot. He pushes me back against the counter.
“Did Austen seriously sit there and jack off while you watched?” The derision drips from his lips.
“You don’t understand…”
Talbot snorts derisively.
“When he loves you, it’s like you’re the only thing that exists, like you’re his entire world,” I try to explain.
Gray eyes narrow. “Sounds like a narcissist.”
“You’re a narcissist.” I shove the hard planes of his muscular chest then immediately regret it when my palms touch hot skin.
“No, I’m a psychopath.” He whips off the towel.
I shriek, cover my eyes, make a run for the door, and smash my elbows into it.
He slaps the towel against my waist then wraps it around his shoulders and opens the bathroom door.
“I’m not looking, I’m not looking.” I stumble upstairs behind him in the dark
“Really, Gumdrop, not even a peek? If you were walking buck-ass naked in front of me, I’d definitely be staring at your ass.”
Back safely in my room, I rummage through my Tupperware containers, trying to find something to cover up the naked man currently adding more wood to the fire.
Hand firmly over my eyes, I wave some Frosty the Snowman shorts at him.
“Gumdrop…”
“I can sleep on the chair. You can have the bed since you’re a guest.” I bang into the little table next to the armchair and stub my toe on the fire poker.
“Can you stop wandering around?” He swears as fabric rustles. “You’re going to start a fire.”
I peek through my fingers at him. The shorts are on, yay! But it’s giving Christmas thirst trap, I fear.
“Just get in bed.”
“I’m good here.” I curl up on the chair.
“There’s enough room if you get rid of all these stuffed animals.”
“No, thank you.”
He shrugs a massive tattooed shoulder and flips the covers back. “Your funeral or rather, Austen’s. It’s easier to sneak out with you not right next to me.” He stretches out on the bed.
Yeah, those shorts are sinful. I’m going straight to the naughty list.
The bed’s barely big enough for him, let alone both of us. His feet hang off the side. I can’t be that close to him all night long.
Talbot stretches like a panther and puts one arm behind his head. He’s not even trying to be sexually appealing, and it’s giving me smutty Hallmark movie. He just needs a Santa hat.
“It’s just you and me, Cocoa Puff,” he coos to the dog. She snuggles into the crook of his arm.
I am not jealous of a corgi.
He reaches out one arm, the tattoos rippling, and flicks off the light switch. The firelight dances off his muscles.
Now it’s giving sex.
I hug my feet to myself on the chair.
I’m exhausted but also wired.
I have to be at the practice arena tomorrow; I can’t stay up all night.
My head nods down… then suddenly, I’m having one of those dreams where I’m falling, falling down a chimney…
“Come to bed.” Talbot’s bare arms pick me up as I gasp at the realization that I am not, in fact, careening headfirst down my grandmother’s chimney.
The metal bed frame creaks as he drops me on it and sprawls out next to me.
“I know you don’t sleep in that robe,” he whispers in the dark. “You can take it off. I’ve seen your Gumdrops before.”
His fingertips trail down the front of the robe to the tie at the waist. My tummy flip-flops at his touch. I can practically feel him smirking as he feels the twitch of my traitorous body under his touch.
His knee presses against my thigh. His fingers twirl in my hair.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Austen was a pump-and-dump guy. He’d roll over and sleep, didn’t want to touch me after. My secret romance fantasy is a guy who just wants to cuddle in bed with me all day while I crochet, like a big wolf or a cat or something.
But with a giant cock. I ate way too many cookies.
Cocoa whines and pants near my head.
“Is Misty in your spot?” Talbot murmurs to the dog.
He leans over me. I choke on an Eep! As his weight leans on me so he can pick up the heavy corgi, legs paddling in the air before he settles her between us in the bed.
“Austen never wanted Cocoa in bed.” The confession rankles.
“And you really don’t want me to kill him just for that? Guess your mommy doesn’t love you,” he baby-talks to the dog. “Good thing she never had a kid with that asshole.”
My teeth grind.
Cocoa snuggles next to Talbot and gives him happy doggie kisses.
“I’m the favorite now.”
I kick his shin.
“It’s cool if you sleep with a dog. I sleep with a gun.”
“Talbot.”
“I’ll be good.” He cranes his neck to smile at me.
I eye him. “Define good.”
“No bodies. No blood. Minimal intimidation.” He traces a heart on my chest then draws an X from one nipple to the other. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”