11. Rick
11
RICK
Chase just left after his last client—a college kid who wanted his girlfriend’s name covered up. It was a rookie mistake. However, after seeing the phoenix Chase created to cover up Evie’s ex-husband’s name, maybe I shouldn’t judge. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it all day.
I’m about to leave for the day when I hear music coming from the office. Something slow and sad. We’ve been closed for twenty minutes, but Evie often stays late, catching up on paperwork.
Except this doesn’t sound like paperwork.
I find her sitting on the floor behind her desk, knees pulled to her chest. She doesn’t notice me at first.
“Evie?”
She startles, quickly wiping her eyes. “Rick! I thought you’d already left. I’m sorry, I was just—” Her voice cracks. “I’ll clean up. Go home.”
“Like hell.” I close the office door. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She laughs, but it sounds hollow. “Just having a moment. I’m fine.”
I slide down beside her. Close enough to touch, but not touching. “Yeah, you look real fine.”
That gets me a weak smile. “Your sarcasm needs work.”
“My everything needs work. Talk to me.”
She’s quiet so long before she answers. “Do you ever look at your life and wonder how you got here?”
“Here being my office floor at ten PM?”
“Here being…” She gestures vaguely. “Everything. All of it.”
I think about our conversation the other night—three brothers agreeing to pursue one woman together. About how none of our lives look like we planned.
“Sometimes.” I touch her hand. “Want to tell me what’s really going on?”
Fresh tears spill. “I can’t.”
“Talk to me, Evie.”
She turns her face into my shoulder. “I’m so tired of being strong.”
Something in my chest tightens. I’ve seen Evie professional, seen her flirtatious, seen her come apart under my hands. But this? This raw vulnerability? This is new.
“Then don’t be.” I pull her closer. “Not with me.”
She breaks. The kind of crying that comes from somewhere deep and hurting. I just hold her, letting her soak my shirt with tears.
“He took everything,” she whispers eventually. “My trust, my safety, my whole fucking life.”
I don’t ask who. The bastard’s name is still healing under the phoenix design on her collarbone.
“But not your girls.”
“No.” Her voice strengthens slightly. “He’ll never touch them. I made sure of that.”
The fury in her tone tells me more than questions would. Whatever her ex did, it was bad enough to make her run. Bad enough to still have her looking over her shoulder.
“You’re safe here.” I mean it more than she knows. After last night’s conversation with my brothers, I know we’d all die before letting anyone hurt her or those girls.
She pulls back enough to look at me. “Why are you so good to me?”
“Because you deserve good things.” I brush tears from her cheeks. “Because my brothers and I?—”
But I can’t finish that thought. Not yet. Not while she’s this raw.
She kisses me instead. Soft and sweet and desperate. Tasting of need and trust I haven’t earned.
“Rick.” Just my name, but it holds questions I’m not ready to answer.
I rest my forehead against hers. “I’ve got you. Whatever you’re running from, whatever you’re hiding from—I’ve got you.”
“We’ve got you,” I add silently. But that conversation can wait for another night.
“Kiss me, Rick,” she mutters.
Her lips taste like salt from tears, but her hands are steady as they pull me closer. No more words. No more questions. Just the need to forget, to feel something besides pain.
I lift her onto the desk, scattering papers we’ll deal with tomorrow. Right now, all I care about is how she arches when I kiss down her neck and the way her breath catches when I find that sensitive spot behind her ear.
“Please.” She tugs at my shirt. “Make me forget.”
I understand what she’s asking, what she needs. Not gentle, not sweet—just pure sensation to drown out whatever demons are chasing her tonight.
Her blouse hits the floor. The simple black cotton underneath isn’t meant to seduce, but seeing her like this—raw and real—makes my cock throb. When I palm her breast through the fabric, she moans. The sound echoes in the quiet office, making us both freeze momentarily.
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. She grinds against my cock through denim, making me groan at how hot and ready she feels even through layers.
I unhook her bra, revealing perfect breasts that fit my hands like they were made for me. When I take one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard while pinching the other, her nails dig into my shoulders.
Her skirt rides up as I step between her spread thighs. I slide my hand up her leg, discovering she’s soaked through simple cotton panties. When I press my thumb against her clit through the fabric, her whole body shudders.
“Rick,” she moans. “Please…”
I push her panties aside, sliding two fingers into her wet heat while my thumb works her clit. Her pussy clenches around my fingers, telling me how close she is already.
She fumbles with my belt, desperate now. I help her free my cock, groaning when her small hand wraps around me. The way she strokes me shows she needs this as badly as I do.
I position myself at her entrance, teasing her with just the tip until she whimpers. Then I push in slowly, letting her feel every inch as I fill her. We both curse at how perfectly she takes me.
She feels like paradise and sin wrapped into one. Each thrust goes deeper as she moves with me, meeting every stroke. I grab her hips, angling her just right until I’m hitting that spot that makes her shake.
Her orgasm hits hard and fast, my name a cry on her lips. I follow right after, holding her like she might disappear if I let go.
Reality creeps back slowly. Her phone buzzes somewhere in the scattered papers. She ignores it.
“You okay?” I brush the hair from her face.
“Better.” She offers a small smile. “Thank you.”
We clean up in comfortable silence. There is no need to discuss what just happened or complicate it with words.
I’m locking up when her phone rings again. This time, she answers.
“Rose? What’s—” Her face drains of color. “Which hospital?”
My gut clenches.
“I’m on my way.” She’s already running for her car. “Is she—okay, keep her calm. I’m coming.”
“Evie?”
“Violet.” Her hands shake as she searches for keys. “She fell. They’re at Memorial.”
“I’m driving.” I take her keys. No way she should drive like this.
The drive to the hospital takes forever and no time at all. We find Rose in the emergency waiting room. She looks relieved to see me with Evie.
“She’s okay,” Rose says quickly. “Just needed stitches. Tried climbing that tree in the backyard again.”
“Where’s Daisy?”
“With her.” Rose’s eyes meet mine over Evie’s head. Something passes between us—it feels like a warning. “They’re in room three.”
Violet’s small face lights up when she sees us. “Mama! Look, I got green stitches!”
Two stitches across her forehead. It could have been worse.
“What were you thinking?” But there’s no heat in her voice. Just relief.
“I wanted to see the stars better.” Violet sounds proud despite everything. “Did you know Uncle Zane built a tree house when he was little?”
Evie’s eyes find mine. “Did he now?”
“I should call my brothers.” Let them know why their office manager won’t be in early tomorrow. “They’ll want to know she’s okay.”
Something soft crosses Evie’s face. “Thank you. For everything.”
I leave them to their reunion, stepping into the hall to call home.
Tonight has changed things.
We all have scars. Some just show more than others.