Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
DARIA
My mouth hangs open, and I pull back to stare at Kai. “Streaking? Seriously?”
“Yup. It was a dare. You already know that I’m determined to live life. Vic doesn’t like to let other people win, and Lincoln?” He pauses and shakes his head. “Lincoln was buzzed and thought it sounded like fun.”
“I’m sorry, I’m trying to picture the three of you running around naked.” Shaking my head, I giggle, the image in my head too obnoxious to be reality.
He chuckles. “Yeah. Since we grew up together, we always hung out, but after that, the three of us were inseparable.” Smirking at me, he arches an eyebrow. “Have you ever done it?”
My eyebrows jump. “What? Gone streaking?”
“Yeah.”
“No. Streaking with boobs this big would be painful,” I say, choosing not to censor my thoughts. This is who I am.
“Mmm. So, you were a good girl?”
“Hardly. But I was too mature to run around naked.”
He presses his hand to his chest. “Shots fired.”
A grin cuts across my face. “Should I call the senior center?”
Eyes flashing, he drops the hand that was on his chest onto my thigh and turns toward me, squeezing my leg. “That mouth might get you in trouble.”
His touch is electric, making my blood thrum through my veins in response. A wave of heat rushes over me, a bloom of musk coating my lavender scent. Kai’s nostrils flare, and his fingers inch up my thigh.
“Needy again?” he purrs into the headset.
I glance at the pilot, but he’s focused on flying the helicopter. If he notices my scent, he gives no indication.
“Daria?” Kai undoes the button of my jeans and slips his hand into my pants, tsking . “Your clit is needy for me.” His voice is rich and husky, even through the headset.
“What about the pilot?”
“He’s being paid more than enough to not care.” Without additional warning, he pushes two fingers into my dripping cunt. “And maybe I’m a little selfish, wanting to hear you moaning my name again.”
My body is so sensitive from the orgasms he already gave me that my next one approaches so fast, it’s almost embarrassing. But as Kai’s thumb circles my clit, I don’t care.
Toes tingling, I gasp and grab his forearm, keeping his hand right where it is and rocking into it, all sense of propriety gone with the promise of euphoria.
“Kai,” I whimper, so close to the edge.
“I’ve got you,” he says, moving his thumb faster and faster and faster until my muscles tighten and stars dance across my vision.
I stifle my moan, panting hard as the orgasm crashes over me. Kai is purring so loudly, I’m surprised the pilot can’t hear, but a quick check assures me the pilot isn’t paying attention.
Like in the car, he fixes my pants for me and sucks his fingers into his mouth, gaze holding mine as he licks them clean. “The sweetest torture,” he murmurs, draping his arm over me again.
“We’re approaching the landing pad.” The pilot’s voice startles me, and I half wonder if he was waiting for us to finish before making the announcement. It’s so loud in here, there’s no way he heard my moans, but there’s a good chance he could smell exactly what Kai was doing to me.
When I shoot a sheepish look at the alpha, he simply smirks and pulls me closer, adjusting himself again. There’s a very large present for me in his lap. Maybe I can unwrap it after dinner.
Maybe you should continue getting to know him first?
Ugh. Who invited the voice of reason? I mean, sure, I could be good and simply let him wine and dine me and give me orgasms, but I’ve also never been afraid to go for what I want.
But what if that’s why all the other packs left you?
Is it weird that I want to punch myself in the face?
The pilot tells us about Cape Charles and the famous lighthouse as he navigates toward a landing pad. I’ve only been out to the islands with Quinn and her family. They usually went to Myrtle Beach. The Cape Charles Lighthouse is near Smith Island Beach, and we land down the coast from the beach. Kai helps me unbuckle, his knuckles brushing over me, almost teasing, and once the pilot gives us the okay, he helps me out of the helicopter. It’s a little chilly on the coast, but not nearly as cold as it was up in the sky.
“Ready to eat?”
I pull my gaze from the ocean and find Kai gesturing to a table sitting on a wide strip of grass that’s just off the beach, far enough away from the shore that we won’t end up with sand all over us. There are silver covers over plates, and two sturdy chairs that hold up to the breeze rolling off the water. A white tablecloth is battened down.
“I hope you like Italian,” Kai says, searching my face for some sort of approval.
“How did you do all of this?” I finally manage to ask.
He shrugs. “I know a guy.”
How much is this date costing you is my next question, but I force that one down. Kai has his own money. He can do what he wants with it. And me? I’ll try not to keep a running tab of expenses in my head and embrace the romantic gesture.
“Do you like it?”
“Do I like it?” I parrot, glancing at him like he’s grown a second head. “Kai, this is amazing .”
A relieved breath rushes out of him. “Let me feed you.” He holds my hand and draws me toward the table, nodding his head at someone over my shoulder.
The helicopter’s blades start to turn faster.
“Where is he going?”
“We’ll drive back.” Kai gestures to a pretty baby blue SUV parked down the way.
“What about your car?”
“Lincoln and Vic already picked it up.” Kai leads me farther away from the helicopter as it prepares to take off.
Thankfully, it’s far enough away from our dinner that nothing tips over or blows away. I clutch Kai’s hand, half-worried the night will turn into one of those horror films, where the rotor blade accidentally chops my head off.
“I got you,” Kai says, pulling me into his arms, wrapping them around me as a protective shield. “You don’t have to be afraid. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
My heart trembles in my chest. It’s way too early to let myself fall, but as he holds me, I can’t help picturing myself spending the rest of my life with Kai and his pack.
Kai’s jacket found its way home with me by accident. It accidentally got tucked under my pillows, where I accidentally clung to it all night long, letting his crisp citrus scent bring me dreams of the pack life I’ve always dreamed of.
I woke with a smile that slowly fades as I park outside of my dads’ house. It’s hard not to think about Vic or the pack and how, eventually, if things work out, we’ll have to break the news to Letti and my dads. I’m not going to spend years being a dirty little secret. Not after seeing what it did to Quinn.
Besides, Letti is great. I don’t think she’ll be pissed. At least, not at me. Maybe at Vic. And then there’s the fact that the guys are almost as old as my own dads. I’m trying not to think too hard about that part.
Plenty of people are attracted to people older than them.
Letti pokes her head out of the garage door. Waving, I climb out of the car and head in her direction.
“Mija! ?Cómo estás? What are you doing here?” she asks.
No sense in lying. She knows all about my mom and Marco. “I came to see if you guys would help me buy Marco some cleats.”
A deep line burrows in her forehead. “Your mother?”
I shake my head.
Letti looks on the verge of saying something—probably cursing my mom—but she’d never do something like that in front of me. Features softening, she pulls me inside. “Come. Let’s find your fathers. They’d do anything for Marco.”
“What about Marco?” Brock asks, closing the fridge. “Hey, sugarplum.” He wraps me in a big bear hug, and I laugh, hugging him back quickly before extracting myself from his death grip. His hair is blond and curly like mine, only he keeps it cut short enough that you can’t tell.
“Marco needs some cleats, and I was wondering if you could help me buy them?”
Nico wanders into the kitchen, resting his arms on the breakfast bar. “Is he still playing football?”
My chest tightens. “He didn’t join because he didn’t have cleats.” Shout-out to my voice for not shaking when I feel like screaming and crying on the inside.
“How many pairs does he need?” Henry calls from the other room.
“One.”
“Maybe get him two,” Brock says, glancing at Nico, who nods.
“Two,” Letti calls to Henry. She squeezes my arm. “?Tienes hambre?”
It’s two in the afternoon, but I love Letti’s food, and the groceries that were left on my doorstep have almost run out. “I mean, I could eat.”
“I just got some bolillos. Beans?”
“If you have some, I won’t say no.”
She grins at me. “Of course I have some. Who do you think I am?”
As she busies herself getting a bowl of beans warmed, I meander over to the breakfast bar, sitting next to Nico.
“How’s Marco doing?” he asks.
“As good as he can be,” I say carefully. Marco isn’t their son, but they do care about him because he’s my brother. Marco even spent a summer with us while Mom was off doing who knows what.
“You should bring him to dinner next weekend.” Letti grabs a spoon and sets a bowl in front of me before grabbing a plastic bag full of the best bread I’ve ever tasted. I don’t even care about the shortening. That’s probably why it tastes so good. “They’re fresh.” Letti sets a plate with a bolillo in front of me. “Bring Marco to dinner.”
“I’ll ask,” I say, knowing my mom would never go for it. Even though she’s the one who left my dads, she hates Letti. Maybe it’s because Letti is everything she’s not. Kind. Loving. Intelligent.
Don’t get me wrong. My mom is smart, but in a conniving way. She’s also cruel and only pretends to care when she needs something. Sometimes, I wish Letti could’ve been my real mom instead.
Letti grins at something Brock said, her eyes dancing with love. She’s so good to my dads. She’d never steal all their money. She’s never made me feel bad for being bigger or for how loud my voice gets when I’m excited. If anything, Letti matches my excitement in her own way.
If she had kids of her own, Letti would never make her son ask her daughter to pay the bills.
My throat aches so hard, it hurts. I look into my bowl of beans to hide the tears that have suddenly filled my eyes. Though this isn’t the first time this has happened, I usually save my sad-girl party for when I’m alone.
I force the tears back, filling my spoon with some beans before taking a bite. They’re delicious, as always, but I can’t find any joy in it. Not when my chest feels like it’s cracking open.
Henry comes in. “Okay. Here’s three hundred dollars. That should be enough for the cleats and some good socks.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking the first bite of bolillo. The crust is perfectly crunchy, while the inside is fluffy and soft. I savor the rich flavor. There’s something special about bread that heals the soul. Maybe bread soaks up sorrow.
Fucking christ, Daria. Get it together.
Letti and my dads talk about a trip they’re planning. I listen and pretend to be too interested in eating to contribute to the conversation. The beans are warm and the bolillos are divine, and by the time I get to the last bite, I’ve shoved all my mommy damage into the little box in the back of my mind.
As much as I dread going to her house, for Marco, I’ll do it.