Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
GOOSE
As much as I don’t want to, I let Ivy and Cidney talk alone. My attention stays focused on Cidney, though, her body language, the way her shoulders slump when he tells her just what the fuck he’s come here to tell her.
I watch as he wraps his arms around her in a hug, rubs her back, then takes a step backward, keeping his hands on her shoulders. He shakes her gently until her head tips backward, and she looks up into her eyes.
She gives him a small smile, he dips his chin as if that’s exactly what he needed, then turns his head to look at me. He jerks his chin, his hands fall from her shoulders, then he walks toward the front door.
I decide that I need to follow him. As I walk back into the apartment from the balcony, I don’t look at Cidney as I move past her. I can’t see the sadness in her eyes, but I know it’s there.
We make our way into the hall, and I close the door behind me. “I’m not going to ask what’s going on between you two. It probably won’t matter in a week or two anyway, so I’m going to feign ignorance on that.”
“But?” I say when he doesn’t continue.
Ivy clears his throat. “But she’s like a daughter to me, and I’m going to leave it at that. Before this, whatever the fuck it is, ends, make sure she’s safe.”
He walks away without waiting for another word. I watch him until he’s around the corner and on the elevator. Only then do I turn around and head back into the apartment.
Cidney is standing there, and the second her gaze meets mine, I feel a sense of guilt wash over me. I told Ivy to get it together with her job, his practice, and now she’s standing in front of me with an expression of pain etched in her features, mixed with a bit of panic.
“Well,” she whispers. “I’m jobless.”
Cidney’s bottom lip trembles, and the sight makes my heart squeeze. Maybe I shouldn’t have said shit. Ivy could have continued to pay her bills for the rest of her life. Because seeing her like this is too fucking much.
“You’ll be okay,” I state.
She moves toward me. She doesn’t wrap her arms around me, but she buries her face in my chest, almost burrowing herself there as if she’s trying to crawl into my body. I would welcome that. In fact, I would fucking love it if she could.
Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her close to me. “It’s going to be okay,” I murmur.
I lower my head, touch my lips to the top of her hair, and inhale her scent. I’m falling for her. I know I am. I knew I was, but somehow, this moment feels bigger. So much fucking bigger.
She tips her head backward, her eyes find mine, and she searches them. “It’s time for me to be an adult,” she whispers.
My lips twitch into a smirk because the fact she thinks she’s not an adult is hilarious as fuck. She lives on her own, pays her bills, up until now has been a responsible employee, and I know without a fucking doubt that when she’s naked, she’s very much an adult.
“I know I’m an adult,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But I’ve relied on Justin my whole life. He’s picked up the slack of my parents, he’s helped me in a million different ways, but he’s got his own family now.”
“You’re still his family,” I point out.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and as much as I don’t want to, I have to end this conversation to answer the call. Cidney takes a step backward, then another as she gives me space.
Sliding my thumb across my screen, I turn my back to her and answer. My greeting is a simple yeah. It doesn’t need to be anything else because we both know who the other is.
“I’m checking in on you,” he states.
“Checking in on me?”
He hums. “That meet today, your girl, checking in.”
I should deny that Cidney is my girl, but Maverick knows me better than anyone else on earth.
He probably knew when we fucked the first time, that’s how in tune we’ve been.
Although that relationship has been slightly strained since he met Zadie, I feel like it’s getting back on track, or shifting to a new track, really.
“I’m good. It was a lot, but nobody died, so that’s a plus.”
“And nobody will die?” he asks.
I snort. I want Goffredo to die, but that’s a mission for another day, the day he steps a toe out of line, and if he thinks I’m not watching? I will always be fucking aware of that asshole, of every goddamn move he makes.
“Not yet,” I state, and it’s the truth.
“Good,” he chuckles. “I think Zadie has been worried about Cidney. The girls want to get together. I told her it would have to be somewhere safe.”
At this point, I feel comfortable with them meeting just about anywhere. I don’t think that prick is going to try anything for a while. Not for a good long fucking while. He’s going to play it safe until he thinks we’ve forgotten about him.
I am under no illusion that he won’t eventually try some fly shit.
Maybe not with Cidney, but definitely with the Reapers. He thinks that because his daddy could save him once, he’ll be able to save him again. He won’t.
“The girls can all come here. Send me the date and time, and I’ll make sure they’re safe. Got the whole place under surveillance. You can’t fart in here without me being alerted.”
Maverick snorts. “I’m sure you’ve tested that theory, too,” he mutters.
“Might could have.”
“And when the girls get together, am I safe to assume my brother wants to hang out with me?”
I should tell him to fuck off with that shit, but I don’t. Mainly because I want to see him just as badly. “You better fucking believe it. I need a couple beers and to fucking relax for a minute.”
“Been stressful?” he asks.
Turning my head, I look over my shoulder, my gaze finding Cidney. She’s in her kitchen, her back to me, doing something near the stove. No clue what, but I don’t care either. I just like to see her standing in the same vicinity as me. I like her being in my space and me being in hers.
“In some ways.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I got you. I’ll text you.”
He ends the call, and I turn around to face Cidney. With everything that’s happened—the Front Mob Family, Ivy, that jackwagon Goffredo—I need to be inside her. I need to know she’s still mine.
CIDNEY
I can’t hear him closing the distance between us. I can feel him, though. His movements are predatory. He’s stalking his prey, and that prey is me. Which I love. I welcome that feeling, every single ounce of it, because I know when he’s caught me, it’s going to feel amazing.
It always does.
“The girls are worried about you. They want to hang out,” he murmurs behind me.
I don’t turn to look at him. I’m not sure what to say. I want to see them too, but once I do, I know it will be time for reality to crash down around us. I’m ready to return to the world, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to come back to the world that’s waiting for me.
Everything has changed. Everything will change. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to face that. No job, no money, no future. That’s what I have to look forward to, not to mention the fact that I love this man who will never love me. I don’t want any of it to end.
“That sounds like fun,” I say.
It’s not a lie. It does sound like fun, even if I don’t want to do it. But that’s for purely selfish reasons anyway. I should want to do it, and deep down, I do. I just don’t want this beautiful ride I’m on to end.
I inhale a deep breath and hold it for a moment before letting it out slowly as Goose spins me around. He dips his chin, and before I realize what’s happening, his mouth is touching mine, his tongue tangling with my own, and then my body is being lifted into the air.
Goose takes a few steps, but it’s not enough for us to be in my bedroom, only the living room. He sets me down on my feet, breaking the kiss before his gaze shifts down to meet mine.
His fingers curl around the front of my throat. For a moment, they tighten before they release their grasp, then his fingers fist the front of my top at my belly. My breath hitches as he glides it over my body, tossing it somewhere on the floor.
“Goose,” I exhale.
His smirk, his smile, appear. My favorite mischievous smile. Goose bumps break out over my entire body, over all of my flesh. If he senses it, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lowers his head and touches his lips to the swell of my breast.
In the silence, he nips my breast with his teeth, his gaze looking up at me through his lashes. He doesn’t speak when his hands find the button of my jeans, popping it open before he glides the zipper down, and then my pants are pushed to my ankles.
I gasp as he lifts his head, his sexy smile pointed directly at me. “Are you gonna be my good girl?” he asks.
God. Yes.
A million times yes.
But I don’t say that, at least not all of that, because the only thing I can get out is a single word… the only word that matters.
“Yes.”
That singular word causes something between us to snap like a rubber band. He pulls me closer to him, my chest pressing against his as his hands slide up my spine until he reaches my bra strap. He unhooks it, then touches his mouth to mine again.
His fingertips glide over my skin, goose bumps appearing on top of goose bumps with each move he makes. I want him inside me. Need him. He knows it too, which is why he’s taking his sweet time.
When Goose lifts his head, his gaze focuses on mine again as he gently guides my bra down my arms. I step out of my jeans, my hands fumbling with his belt and pants. When his jeans are off, he tosses his cut on the coffee table.
He throws his shirt somewhere on the floor before he picks me up again and slams his mouth against mine. Before I realize what’s happening, he’s ripped his lips from mine, and he’s turning me around and bending me over the arm of the sofa.
My whole ass is on display. There is no hiding any part of me from his view, and there is something sexy about that.
Extremely sexy.
Reaching out in front of me, I try to grip the cushion of the sofa for leverage, but there’s nothing to hold on to.
Then my legs are spread, I feel his fingers dig into my hips, and they’re yanked backward at the same time he pushes inside me. My head flies back the moment he fills me.
He releases my hip, and his fingers grab hold of my hair, tangling in it, tugging my head until my back arches.
My entire body feels like I’m on the edge, as if something significant is about to happen and I’m losing control of myself.
I don’t try to regain it, though. I don’t want to.
Whatever is going to happen, however that feels, I’m ready for it.
It’s almost as if I’m hovering above myself, looking down, as if my soul has left my body.
He rears back, almost slipping from inside me, before he slams back inside. The motion, or maybe the slight pain, brings me back down to earth. Or back into my body. He grunts, repeating the move before he speaks.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “So goddamn good.”
He moves inside me, in and out. He stretches me, fills me, and consumes me as only he can. I’m so madly, deeply, wildly in love with this man, I’m not sure I can keep it to myself much longer.
Then he shifts over me, his chest pressed against my back, his lips against the shell of my ear.
“My good girl,” he whispers.
Those three words.
That’s all I need.
I come.
I gasp, the surprise consuming me just as shocking as the orgasm itself. Then he buries himself inside me, and I feel him fill me with his release. Consuming me like only he can. Perfectly, warmly, expertly… passionately.