Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 (40 page)

“You going to be rude or invite us in?” Cheyenne asked setting the baby on the floor, and pulling three more children into the room from the hall. “We traveled all night to get here.” She laid one of the children on the floor and proceeding to change a diaper.

“She’s gonna be rude, kind of like you’ve been since you got here,” Dylan answered, tugging one of the children away from the fireplace.

“Now, I understand you might be the law, but you’ve got no call to be talkin’ to my baby girl that a way.” Dad had his finger in the straps of his overalls, rocking back and forth on the balls of his flip-flop covered feet.

“How about I run your name for warrants? Does your probation officer know you left the state?” Dylan was all business as my dad looked to Gigi. My attention was focused on Shane and the two children that looked just like him. “Theses yours?” I questioned, knowing the answer already, but wanting confirmation.

“Yes, they are,” Cheyenne, answered for him, enunciating every word, hate and jealously lacing every syllable. “He is mine, too. You had your chance with him and you walked away.” She held up her left hand, a black rubber looking band around her ring finger, the same hot pink color as her hair in ribbons around the black. “So don’t you go gettin’ any ideas about wantin’ him back,” she said as she tossed the soiled diaper in the corner by my couch. Shane remained silent as he always had.

“Oh, honey, ain’t no chance of that,” Gigi added. “Just look at what she has right here at home.” She was looking at Dylan as if he were the best cut of meat at the butcher shop.

“Listen, Claire, we just need a place to stay until we can order a part for the motorhome,” Dad explained, his eyes not leaving Dylan.

“Yeah, Claire, Dad is taking us to Florida to see Mickey.”

I had to laugh. The thought of my father having enough gas money to make it to the state line was a joke in itself, but getting all of them into an amusement park was another.

“See we recently came into a bit of money,” Gigi explained, her arm stretched across the back of the couch, legs still inviting Dylan in. Without thinking, I snapped my question. “How?”

“Well, Miss smarty pants.” And let the name calling begin, I thought.

“The folks who owned the land where the old house was built, sold it to some hot shot fella from New York, somebody Adams. His men came out to our property and offered us one thousand dollars each to leave immediately. Well we ain’t stupid, one thousand dollars make us stinking rich. Dad found us a new motorhome, one with an engine, and here we are, on vacation like a real family.”

Cheyenne was proud of this and I felt bad for her. Always following along with whatever scheme they were playing. Dylan could tell I was uncomfortable; he looked at me and motioned for me to join him. I didn’t care how things were between us; I needed someone on my side.

“Where is this motorhome of yours and what part do you need?”

Dad told him the motorhome was just outside and I cringed as I wondered what my neighbors were thinking. Dylan pulled out his cell phone and made a call to a tow truck company. He instructed the guy, who he knew by first name, to bring the part over and have the thing installed.

“There, now you can take the money you got from Adams Lighthouse and feed your family some dinner.” He pulled me closer, locking me into the safety of his arms.

“Claire has food right here!” Dad starts, but Dylan finished.

“Which she worked hard to provide. You are the parent here, now do what’s right.” He looked pointedly at him. “Or do I need to call my partner for backup?”

By the time the last of my family had boarded the motorhome, the guy Dylan had called was just about finished. I watched as Dylan took money from his own pocket to pay the guy as my Dad looked on. Nothing would ever change with them, always using whomever they could to get what they needed.

I spent nearly half an hour cleaning every surface they had touched; even threw away the jar of peanut butter Benny was eating from with his fingers. I lit candles and vacuumed, trying anything and everything to get the smell of them out and avoid the conversation I knew needed to happen. When there was nothing left to clean, I turned to Dylan who had just settled onto my freshly clean couch.

“Come sit with me.” He patted the space beside him.

“Listen, I want to thank you for what you did today; for making them leave and paying for the repair. If you tell me how…”

“I don’t want your money,” he interrupted, rising to stand before me.

“What do you want?” I questioned hesitantly. I’m not Gigi with her lack of self-respect.

“I want you to tell me about your family. You never speak of them, so I’d like to know exactly what that was.”

What did I have to lose? He claimed to be a changed man, he’s helped Lainie in so many ways. So I told him. I told him about growing up and not fitting in. How I’d spent most of my life avoiding the people who’d just left. How I’d chosen to use what’s inside my head instead of what was below my waist to get what I wanted out of life. He never interrupted as he listened to each word and watched every cringe and somehow, I knew something had changed. The man before me isn’t the cocky bastard I once believed him to be. Now, he’s the kind and gentle man who’d protected me, defended me, and was looking at me with such admiration in his eyes.

“So the dude holding up your wall is with your sister?”

I tried to recall if he was talking about Shane or one of my other brothers.

“The one who still has the hard on for you,” he teased.

“You mean Shane? Yes, we dated for a little while, now it seems he’s married to my sister or so her rubber band rings indicated.” I rolled my eyes at the idea Cheyenne would ever marry.

“I’m not really surprised they’re together, he has a job and a car. It’s a complete bonus for her that he has them at the same time,” I joked.

“But you have higher expectations?” He cleared his throat, his face cautious.

“You could say that,” I agreed vaguely.

“I meant what I said earlier, about being your boyfriend, that’s what I want.” His face grew closer to mine, blue eyes flickering between mine as his hands cupped my cheeks. His skin was warm, soft and gentle, as if holding the tiniest of creatures.

“I have requirements, rules which I won’t bend or break for anyone.” I breathed, trying to hold my hormones in check.

“Such as,” he questioned, leaning closer still and licking his lips, the moisture inviting, desirable.

I closed my eyes tight, ignoring the way he made me feel, the way his skin set mine on fire.

“When I was a little girl, I read all the fairy tale books and watched all the movies. As I grew up, I knew these stories were just that, stories in a book.” He grasped my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of my knuckles.

“Go on,” he whispered.

“I want to be adored, Dylan. I want to be the first thing you think about and the last as you close your eyes to sleep. I want to go to work and know you are keeping me in your heart and not just a number in your cell phone.” My eyes stung from the tears, which begged to be released.

“I want to have you hold me when life kicks me in the teeth and kick my ass when I get too big for my britches.” My voice cracked with the emotions I’d kept pent up for so long.

“But most of all, I want a passion that burns hot in my belly.” I searched for something in his face, something which would tell me to stop and throw him out.

“A passion so hot and intense, nothing could ever put it out.” I took a deep breath as I made my last request.

“Finally, I want to be kissed. So hard I can feel it three days later. So passionate I could write a song about it and so real I could keep it as a promise of your love for me.”

I had listened to all of the stories told behind closed doors, conversations of how he could fuck like a pro, yet never laid his lips to anyone else’s. If he could do that, kiss me the way I wanted, I would be his, body, mind and soul. I waited, searching for the moment when he would pull back and tell me to have a great weekend, riding off to his next stop on his journey.

“Then you better hold on, baby.”

He lurched forward, capturing my neck in his hands and pulling my face in his direction, closing off any distance separating our lips. Even though I wanted this, had anticipated the possibility of him kissing me, I was taken completely off guard. Dylan took advantage of my shocked state by tracing his tongue across my bottom lip. Testing the waters and finding no resistance, he dipped his warm, wet tongue into my mouth.

I tried to be in the moment, to enjoy how possessive and in control he was. But in the back of my mind, I could hear the women of his past chanting over and over, “This isn’t real. Dylan Morgan doesn’t kiss.” But it was real and this was my life and, goddamn it, I’ was going to live it until it was taken from me.

His skin was warm, so deliciously warm. My fingers drank him in, diving into the hair at the back of his neck and pulling it slowly, as I feel every centimeter of the short strands. My thumb flicked the skin of his lower earlobe, causing a moan to resonate from deep within his chest, the vibrations humming around parts of my body, which were begging to be touched.

He explored my face with his fingers, his thumb circling across the apple of my cheeks, mapping each side. This man is gifted with not only the ability to drop panties with a single smile, but to bring me to such heights even with all of my clothing on.

This may be new territory for him, but it’s one he has conquered with very little effort. Once his lips covered mine, they remained intact, no adjusting of positions to get a better feel. He locked in on my sighs and moans, learning from the responses I gave and never allowing me to pull away or take things further.

It was our first kiss. One that lasted an immeasurable amount of time, but one that not only took my breath away, it gave me a new life. One I never wanted to leave. One I hoped would never end.

Brothers don’t necessarily have to say anything to each other- they can sit in a room and be together and just be completely comfortable with each other.

~Leonardo DiCaprio

W
e had been sitting around, much like we had when we were younger, teasing each other and throwing shit at one another. Chase had checked into his new command, gotten his stuff all situated, and then headed over to my house to crash.

Claire came by on her way to pick up her friends, they were going to a bookstore where some famous author was signing her latest book.

It funny how you can go through your entire life thinking you have it all planned out, convincing yourself there is no way in hell you can be any happier than you are right then.

And suddenly this incredible human being comes into your life, showing you so many possibilities you’d never dreamed of ever wanting.

I had no tragedy, which closed my mind off to kissing, never had a bad moment, which centered around a kiss. It was just so easy to convince myself I would never miss it. And this would have been true, it had been true. I never needed the intimacy of being that close to a person you cared about, sharing an act, which could be more erotic than fucking.

Once I started kissing Claire, it was nearly impossible to stop. The sun was rising before she’d finally pushed me out her front door, her lips swollen, cheeks red and raw from the stubble which formed as I’d devoured her.

“Hey, handsome,” she called as she opened the garage door. Austin laughed his ass off when she did it. Saying she was the kind of girl he could stand to keep around. I shut him up when I cleared the distance between us, wrapped her in a tight embrace, and then kissed the fuck out of her.

She sat right there with us, drinking a bottle of water as she enjoyed my family. She was just about to leave when dad’s car pulled into the drive, and he and momma got out of the car, heading into my shop.

“Well, Miss Claire, this is about to get real,” Chase, warned her, before standing up, his eyes never leaving the entrance to the shop.

Picture three grown men, all of whom stood over six feet in height, could bench press a Buick if we pulled our strength together, yet we all stood in apprehension of a woman who weighed perhaps one hundred pounds soaking wet.