EIGHT
INHALING THROUGH her nose, she cleared out her negative mood and smiled before focusing on Presley sitting up in bed.
“How are you doing, kid?”
“I’m not a kid,” he said. “I’m twelve.”
“Right.” She went to his bedside. “Of course you are… I’m sorry, that’s practically a man…” Pointing at the end of the bed, she slipped off her shoes. “Do you mind if I join you?”
The kid’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “In bed?”
“I promise not to make any inappropriate advances,” she said and gestured to the chair on the other side. “I can sit there if you’d prefer.”
“No!” he said, forgetting about his arm and lunging forward. In pain, he recoiled. Her wince of sympathy came in time with helping him gently lay his arm down again. “I’m sorry, Master Claymore, can I get you something? Are you hungry?”
“I’m twelve,” he muttered. “I’m always hungry.” The barely restrained tears in his eyes broke her heart. “Why’d you call me master?”
“Because I don’t have permission to use your first name.”
“You can use my first name,” he mumbled.
“Thank you,” she said, grinning. “And you can use mine… I’m Freya… Freya Dere…How about when we’re through here, you let me take you out for a cheeseburger?”
“Won’t it be too late?”
With a shake of her head, she gestured to the end of the bed again and he nodded. Gathering her skirt, she climbed on to join him.
Legs folded, back straight, she rubbed her foot. “It’s up to your brother,” she said. “I know this amazing place that does the best fries you will ever taste in your whole life…” Leaning over her foot, she lowered her volume. “Saying yes would really help me out. I’m only allowed to eat junk food on special occasions.”
“Says who?”
“Adulthood,” she said, straightening to massage again.
The youngster’s frown grew while remaining intent on her massage. “Why is this a special occasion?”
“I’m making a new friend,” she said and stopped massaging to tilt her head. “Unless you don’t want to be my friend.”
“I… I want to be your friend,” he said, his expression loosening though his eyes flicked up and down when she switched her massage to the other foot. “Your feet hurt?”
“It’s the shoes,” she said, sharing a private smile with herself.
Slanting to the side, he peeked off the edge of the bed. “Boy, they look…”
“Lethal?” she asked. “It’s a stiletto platform. Has to be. I’m short.”
He blinked. “Baer is six feet four inches tall.”
Raising her brows, her smile was tight. “I noticed… Why do you think I need the high shoes?”
“Dad says me and Charlie might be tall like them one day… you think maybe?”
From what she could see, he was already tall, though he probably didn’t feel it next to his brother.
“It’s possible,” she said. “I was told someone’s height is dependent on their parents’.”
That disappointed him. “Huh, Mom is short. Not as short as you, I don’t think.”
She laughed. “Not many people are, honey.”
“Are your parents short?”
It wasn’t unusual for kids to ask about her parents, or for parents to ask about her parents. Still the question always caught the breath in the back of her throat.
“My dad was tall,” she said. “My mom only hit five flat.”
With the innocence of a child and a wariness that suggested he feared the response, he asked, “Was?”
She licked her lips. “My parents died when I was ten.”
His attention dropped to his uninjured hand resting on the bed. “Charlie and me were eight when ours had their accident.”
Curiosity and sympathy inspired questions, but this was Baer’s private business. She doubted he’d appreciate her prying. Not that it mattered. They weren’t dating each other; she wasn’t his client.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not easy to lose someone close to you.”
Perking up, he was quick to make eye contact. “We didn’t lose them. We live with Dad… he was just… he got banged up and has problems with his leg sometimes, so he can’t work like he used to. That’s why Baer supports us. But, Dad, like looks after us and stuff.”
No mention of their mother, but she wouldn’t ask. “Must be good to have a big brother living with you.”
Again, he shook his head. “Baer has his own place in the attic… he does maintenance in the building, gets us a break on rent.” This kid wasn’t shy about sharing. “Are you going to like get with him?”
“Get with…? Oh, no, honey. We’re just friends.”
Even when hurting his arm or talking about his parents, he hadn’t looked so dejected as he did right then, sagging against the pillows propping him up.
“Dad says Claire messed him up good. Mom and Dad were in the hospital for so long after the accident, Baer was trying to look after us and them, it was tough. I don’t remember a whole lot, just that Mom wasn’t around… But after that, we didn’t see Claire anymore… Dad said she was only interested in the sprint.”
“Not the marathon,” she murmured. In the hallway, Chapman was quick to put that same label on her. Guilty, just how like this Claire might she be? Yeah, that wasn’t the time for internal crises. Changing the subject, and the mood, she squeezed his ankle, then renewed her efforts to massage her feet. “So did you think about what color you want them to wrap your cast in?”
“Color?”
“Sure,” she said. “They have all sorts of colors. I love the pink, it’s really vibrant.” Gasping in joy, she gave him another squeeze. “I saw this one girl last week with purple daisies on hers… Purple is my favorite color. That was over at Harbor North, but I could call them, see if they’ll courier some… goes really well with the pink.”
“Pink?” His lip curled in disgust. “Purple?”
“Sure,” she said, playing with him. Her hands left her feet when her shoulders went back. “You wouldn’t get pink? I asked you out for burgers and you wouldn’t even get purple flowers for me?”
“Well… yeah,” he muttered, his lips loosening. “But I gotta go to school tomorrow…” Suddenly optimistic, he bounced. “You want to come to my school tomorrow? It’s on West Trin. If you meet me after, I can tell them I did it for my girl.”
Oh, he was so sweet. Such innocence and hope.
She smiled and reached over his legs to take his uninjured hand.
“That’s a date, Handsome.” She put his hand on her cheek. “But, you know, I like blue too… Maybe if you got blue, you could let me draw a daisy for you… would you let me do that instead?” Eyes glazed and wide, he blinked hard and nodded. “Thank you, Handsome.”
“What’s going on in here?”
Baer’s approaching voice attracted her attention, which loosened Presley’s hand. The older brother examined the younger. Something discerning in his eye became more intense.
He tilted his head to focus on her. “You know he can see down your dress, right?”
It hadn’t even occurred to her. Glancing down, she saw that, yes, she’d been giving Presley a close-up of more than just modest cleavage. She sat up, pressing a hand to the front of her dress.
“Sorry,” she said to him, then winced at Presley. “I’m sorry.”
Baer laughed. “Don’t apologize to him,” he said and handed the kid a juice box.
“I don’t want that baby thing,” Presley snarked, shoving the box onto the table.
Kids on the cusp of teenage-hood acted this way all the time.
“Can I have it?” she asked, opening her hand to him. “Please?”
Surprised by the question, Presley handed it over. She smiled in thanks and opened it.
“I called home,” Baer said. “You’re grounded forever.”
Presley gaped at his brother. “But I… Freya’s taking me out for burgers.” Baer landed an unimpressed eye on her. She smiled and shrugged, tonguing the straw into her mouth. “We’re dating now.”
That widened her smile. She sucked up some of the juice before holding the box toward Presley.
“Want to share with me, Handsome?”
The kid was happier to take the juice from her.
Baer hadn’t managed to crack a smile. “You’re dating,” he said. “My twelve-year-old brother?”
She shrugged. “What can I say? We hit it off.”
“You tell him we’ve kissed?”
How could he announce such a thing? She gasped and swatted for him, but he swerved back. In that move, he found his smile.
“Baer!”
“You said you weren’t getting with him,” Presley whined.
“Oh, honey,” she said, leaning forward to take his hand again. “He’s just jealous. Ignore him.”
“Money shot,” Baer muttered, stepping back from the bed to take his jacket off.
And, sure enough, Presley’s eyes dropped a little.
Sitting up fast, she held a hand out to Baer. “Can I have that, please?”
He handed over his jacket. “Won’t protect the assets.” Putting her arms in the sleeves, she wrapped it around her front and leaned back to massage her foot again. “If you’re dating, he’s entitled to the view.”
Baer went around the end of the bed to the seat by Presley’s uninjured hand.
“No one is entitled to anything, even in a relationship,” she said. “You should know better than to send young boys that message.”
“This from the woman dating a twelve-year-old,” he said, loosening his cufflinks and lifting his hips to put them in the pocket of his slacks.
“Stop being jealous, Baer,” Presley said while Baer folded his cuffs over his forearms. “I manned up for her first.”
She swooned a little and switched her smile from him to Baer.
Presley was glaring at his brother and didn’t notice her mouth, “I love him,” to the elder Claymore.
In response, he rolled his eyes.
Shifting his chair closer to the bed, Baer presented her a hand. “Gimme.”
“Give you, what?”
He sat straight, gliding his fingers over the apex of her knee to skim it down the front of her calf. Ah, he’d noticed her massaging.
A foot massage? Oh, God, yes. It might be polite to refuse, but she wouldn’t. Uncrossing her legs to extend one toward him, if he knew what he was doing, this would be the highlight of her week.
“Take this,” he said, pulling a pillow from the top of the stack behind Presley.
One the kid wasn’t tall enough to notice missing.
He guided the foot she’d given him closer and surprised her by scooping up the other one to put it on the arm of his seat. With one of her legs next to him and the other in his grip, her ass shifted closer to Presley’s ankles.
“Now, kid, you watch close,” Baer said. “You get this right, you’ll never have to worry about your view being taken away.”
“Baer,” she murmured, but didn’t pursue her scolding.
Instead, she put the pillow under her head and lay down. And when he squeezed the sensitive spot next to the ball of her foot, her eyes closed. Exhaling, she hadn’t meant to sound quite so blissed out, but in that opening gambit, he proved his skill.
“Do you trade?” Presley asked.
Her twisted upper body didn’t allow for a view of the youngster. No, when she opened her eyes, Baer was all she saw. He fixated on her with that same sleepy look in his eye as before, only this time it was hotter, steamier, far from age appropriate for their audience.
Neither of them answered.
Presley spoke again, “Freya says she has to wear the shoes that hurt her ‘cause of you. Is that why you have to massage her feet?”
“I massage her feet because I want to,” Baer said to his brother, forcing himself to stop looking at her.
The new angle gave her a better view of his profile. Clean-shaven tonight, unlike the stubble he wore when they met. She preferred the stubble. God, talk about presumptuous. It wasn’t her place to be thinking anything close to that. So new thoughts. New thoughts…
Hmm… smooth would be nice too, she’d be able to lick his jaw, to taste his skin, slide her lips across his cheek to his upper lip. Smooth meant no stubble burn. No barriers. No clues.
Baer was a gentleman; he’d been polite and courteous. Yet there was something about him that suggested he could be a little rough around the edges… if he relaxed some.
It would be so easy to take her foot from his hands, to prop it on the opposite arm of his chair and slither forward, off the bed, into his lap…
“Freya?”
Presley’s voice interrupted her inappropriate fantasy. “Yes, Handsome? Sorry, my mind was drifting.”
“Drifting where, Little Skit?” Baer asked, mischief dancing in him.
When he elevated her foot, his breath touched the pad of her big toe, forcing a rush of heat through her. Clenching her abs, she tried her best not to react, but he noticed how hard she swallowed. Oh. Oh. Oh. The flare of his gaze… She had him, enticed him, intrigued him.
Licking his lips slowly, he lowered his chin, routing his exhale to her sensitive instep. A tremble shimmered from her inner thighs to the most intimate corner of her enlivened body.
“Baer,” she whispered, her voice almost not there.
When he next breathed against the groove of her foot, the whisper of his lips brushed her skin. Like he’d flipped a switch, she rolled onto her back, and her foot leaped from the arm of the chair to land on his chest. Curling her toes into the thick fabric of his expensive shirt, they begged to be spoiled too.
“Have you… have you had sex?” Presley asked like he wasn’t quite sure what he was witnessing.
Join the club, kid.
Her overloaded senses presented a vision, both inside and out… Oh, she wanted more.
“With Freya?” Baer asked. Guy deserved credit for getting that out, getting any words out. “No.”
“Would you?” Presley asked, excited.
“Would I? Hell, yeah, I would.”
Because it was his job.
A trolley rattled into the room, and she sat up fast, snatching her feet from Baer.
“Who ordered one cast?” a male voice echoed behind her, but she was too engrossed by Baer to turn around.
The quick smile he offered grew curious. “You okay?”
“I’m, uh… just going to see what Rufio dug up for me.”
Sliding off the bed, she was quick about skipping around it and picking up her shoes.
“Freya?” Presley called when she was nearing the door. “We still going for burgers?”
“Of course, Handsome,” she said, holding onto the doorframe, supporting her balance as she put on one shoe, then the other. “I know how long this takes… I just have to see some patients, sign some paperwork… won’t take long. Baer will stay with you.”
That’s what she said and meant… Except in the hallway, just outside the room, she needed a moment to gather herself. Okay, she was fine, good. Back to business.
Before she’d gotten a step away, someone snatched her wrist to pull her back. Again, she landed where Chapman put her, except this time Baer was the one with his forearm on the wall above her head.
“You got spooked again, Little Skit,” he said. “What happened?”
“You should get back in there.”
“Kid will be fine for a minute,” he said. “What’s in your head?” He paused. “Thinking about that kiss again?”
“No,” she said, probably too quickly, planting a firm hand on his chest. “No. God, no, I wasn’t thinking about kissing you…”
Not at that exact moment anyway, though those thoughts hadn’t been far from her periphery. And now that he mentioned it…
Maybe he sensed her confusion. The twitch of his eyes narrowing betrayed he couldn’t quite figure her out.
“If you want to take off, you can go. You’re under no obligation to be here. I’ll call you a cab. I’ll tell Pres—”
“No.” Her hand was so small against his chest. “I don’t want to go…” Peeking at him, she kept her chin low. “Unless… do you want me to go?” His next blink was long and slow. “You’re under no obligation either… You’re not being paid to entertain me. This is personal. I shouldn’t be here… I—”
Touching her lips, he silenced her. “I don’t want you to leave, Little Skit.” Sliding his finger south, it kept going until his hand curved around her waist with the lightest grip. “Look at me…” Moving just the tiniest bit, her hair fell from her face. “Lift your chin…” As she complied, his arm left the wall above her head to trace the line of her jaw with the edge of his finger. “Relax,” he whispered. “Right here…” The digit drifted up her jaw again. Doing as told, her jaw loosened to part her lips. She didn’t think beyond his instruction, but some part of her had to know what was coming. “Good, Little Skit…” His voice was the gentlest whisper as his mouth came lower and his eyes grew heavier, eventually closing just a feather away from hers. “You are so good, baby.”
Joining their mouths, his soft, slow approach stretched time, minutes must’ve passed before he even let their lips engage all the way. He kissed like he had all the time in the world, like there was nothing around them, like it was just them and eternity.
Brushing his tongue across her mouth’s threshold, he let it just touch hers then withdrew, disappearing before she was ready. Clinging tighter, an aching squeak fled her throat. She couldn’t think of anything, nothing except the whisper of his tongue dipping into her mouth again, seeking permission to be somewhere it already knew.
Begging more, her nails bit into him, desperate as her tongue pressuring his, demanding it fight back, to raise the urgency from torment to gratification. Instead, his tongue retreated, and the pressure of his mouth ebbed.
He didn’t let their lips lose contact. Just the hint of his kiss was tease enough to heat her. Lost in the cocoon of his aura, she couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t take a full breath.
“It’s not a race, Lil’,” he whispered, giving her another brief taste. “Stop trying to reach the finish… You’ll always get there first with me… I swear it to you, baby.”
Boneless, hot and aroused, she gripped him tighter, responding to the grace granted by his mouth.
“You didn’t read the right prep sheet if you think I need tender and slow.”
“No prep sheet,” he said, sweeping the hair from her eyes to match their gazes. “You hear me, Frey? No prep sheet… Not between us… not ever, okay? Do you understand?”
Her head moved in an involuntary nod. Did she? No. But what did that matter? It didn’t, not in the light of another truth. No one was paying either of them to be there at that minute. Whether or not he knew who she was, she wanted to be sucked in and wanted this to be doing to him what it was doing to her.
“I should get back to Pres…” Yes, his brother. She licked the remnants of their kiss from her lips. Just as her tongue slipped back into her mouth, he dipped to kiss her again. Straightening up, he ran a hand through his hair and grabbed the doorframe of Presley’s room to pull himself toward it. “Oh, uh… They don’t know what I do… My family, they… don’t ask questions and I don’t offer information. I know I don’t have to ask for your discretion, but—”
“Sure,” she said, surprised by his sudden composure. “No, I wouldn’t ever…”
He smiled and winked. “Thanks, Little Skit.”
Alone in the corridor, with whiplash, she’d need another minute. Was that kiss… something, or an attempt to ensure her silence?
From one lane to the next Baer could switch gears to floor the gas or slam the brakes. What was going on? Would she ever figure it out?