Given (Give &Take) (4 page)

T
he streets were alive with lights and music, a fall festival with street vendors and carnival rides. I watched the way the flashes of color caught Rachael’s eyes. A pack of little kids ran toward us, chasing and laughing, dodging us at the last moment, but catching Rachael’s bag with a sticky red candy apple.

“Be careful!” I shouted after them.

“It’s okay,” Rachael said, digging a tissue from her bag and wiping the mess off the best she could.

“One of them is going to end up hurt,” I said, watching the retreating kids.

“Paternal instinct kicking in?” Rachael quirked a smile.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Better late than never, I suppose.” Her eyes fell and her hands fumbled with the tissue, crumpling it before tucking it back inside her bag. It struck me that maybe she’d mentioned my paternal instinct as a way to open the conversation about our future. Would we have kids someday? Rachael was only in her twenties; surely she’d want to have kids.

Maddie and MJ would get married and have kids. Jesus,
I could be a grandfather before I was a father again. Or at the same time. This wasn’t supposed to happen in a man’s early thirties.

I was just getting used to the idea of being a father to MJ. I was trying my best to deal with Nadia. I wasn’t ready to think about a future kid, but my mind was flashing images of Rachael holding an infant in our bed in the tree house with the wispy bed curtains blowing around them in the breeze from the open windows.

It was a nice image. A perfect image. I wanted it—wanted to see it with my eyes and not just my imagination.

I’d get to be there this time from conception until the day I died. I’d never let what happened with MJ and Nadia happen between me and Rachael’s child.

I took her hand in both of mine and held it against my chest. She gazed up at me and I wanted to speak every word, every thought that I’d been thinking, but I couldn’t bring myself to get them off of my tongue. What if I said something to scare her? I constantly made the wrong choices. Admittedly, I was terrible at communicating. It was our biggest obstacle. It was up to me to change it, though.

She blinked a few times, tilting her head and staring into my eyes, like she was trying to decipher what was going on in my head. “You can tell me,” she said.

“I know. It’s—you know me. I mess things up all the time. I need to think before I speak. It has to be said just right. I can’t ruin it when it comes out of my mouth this time.” I thought she knew what I was referring to, but to
be certain, I rubbed my thumb in circles over her left ring finger. “I can’t mess this up.”

“You won’t.” Rachael leaned into me, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head against my chest. “Even if it doesn’t come out perfectly, I know your heart, Merrick Rocha. That’s what matters.”

God, her words were a safety net. My apprehension of failing her melted away somewhat. “You
own
my heart, Rachael DeSalvo.”

We strolled, hand in hand, through the carnival. I hadn’t realized how far we’d walked that evening. The jet-lagged exhaustion I’d suffered earlier waned, tampered by the night air and excitement around us.

“What if she stays with Enzo?” Rachael said out of the blue. “Nadia. What then? Will it consume you for the rest of your life, or can you let it go?”

I shook my head. “Not an option. I got MJ away from him. I’ll get Nadia, too.”

As soon as I’d learned of MJ’s existence—a fact hidden from me, along with the knowledge of his twin, for twenty years—I had to get him away from Enzo. I knew from personal experience what living with that man for even a short amount of time could do. Nadia had been fortunate enough to have been raised by her mother. Of course, I wasn’t sure how much better that situation had been. I needed time with Nadia to know her, to understand what she’d been told about me for all of those years, to come to terms with having her exist in the first place.

Rachael pressed her lips together, making the outer edges turn white. “So your life—our life—is on hold until everything is perfect with MJ and Nadia? You know there’s no such thing as perfect.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?”
The words were out in a rush, spurred on by her doubt and the tone of her disbelief that this would end up how I wanted it to. The stunned look on her face was like I’d physically attacked her. Wide-eyed, she dropped her hand from mine. “Jesus,” I said, running my hands through my hair. “Believe me, I want exactly what you want. But right now, MJ and Nadia come first. Are you asking me to turn my back on them?”

She took a step up to me and jabbed a finger into my chest. “No! I’m asking you to not let them become your
entire
life. There’s still
you
and what you want and need.”

A flame lit in my gut. She thought I was a fool for following Nadia to Paris. “I should just go home, huh? Fuck Nadia. Shove my head in the sand and forget this ever happened? Go back to the fairy tale of Turtle Tear and pretend?”

“Is that what you do there, Merrick? Pretend?” Her eyes blazed with anger and hurt. The same anger and hurt boiling over inside me.

“You can’t seriously be asking me that. You think I pretend when I’m with you? Why the hell would I do that?”

Rachael turned away from me, took a deep breath, and blew it out hard. “It’s been a long day. Let’s just get back to the hotel.”

“Fine.”

I didn’t try to take her hand as we walked back in silence. Was I being irrational? Hell, I didn’t know. I’d always let my instincts guide me. They were telling me to protect the people I loved. How could that be wrong?

Back at the hotel, Rachael locked herself in the bathroom and took a shower. She must not have realized how thin the walls were, because I heard her sobbing.

I sat on the foot of the bed and stared at my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. “You know what she wants, you asshole. Give her the damn ring and make her happy.”

Before I could argue with Mirror Me, I knelt beside my suitcase, unzipped the compartment in the bottom, and held the black velvet box in the palm of my hand.

The water shut off in the shower.

She’d be out any minute.

My eyes stayed glued to the ring box. Could I do this? Here? Now?

The bathroom doorknob turned.

I panicked and shoved the ring box back into the suitcase.

No. Not here. Not now. This was all wrong. We’d been fighting. She’d think the only reason I was proposing was because of our argument on the way back to the hotel. Plus, this wasn’t the romantic spot I’d pictured.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, rubbing her wet hair with a towel.

“Um, making sure I brought my toothbrush.” I grabbed my toothbrush and pulled it out, smiling.

She nodded, unaffected. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Shit. She was emotionally drained. It was written all over her face in the circles under her puffy eyes and the red splotches on her cheeks. I should just give her the damn ring.

The entire time I showered, I debated with myself. I could order champagne and strawberries—no, brownie sundaes—from room service and snuggle up in bed with her and our dessert and give her the ring. But we’d had dessert on the boat.

I lathered soap on my chest and down over my stomach. The desperate feeling was making me crazy.

No, not tonight. I had to keep trusting my instincts. Tonight was not the night to ask Rachael to marry me.

I
woke up the next day sweating, with Merrick wrapped around me. He was like sleeping with a toaster oven. I’d fallen asleep while he was showering the night before and didn’t even remember laying my head on the pillow.

In the streams of light filtering in through the filmy curtains, I ran my eyes up the strong arm wrapped around me. The bittersweet feeling broke my heart. I wanted to be held in his arms forever, but it seemed like it would never happen.

I knew it was early in our relationship to be thinking about forever and that it might not happen for us, but I knew his mind as well as his heart. If he needed to have the perfect world before he proposed, he never would. Perfect worlds don’t exist. He’d never understand that.

So I either waited, or… Leaving him was unbearable to even consider.

Why was I doing this to myself? To us? Here we were in Paris, our relationship was in a wonderful place, and I was pushing and pushing him for more. Why?

If I really let myself examine my feelings, I could admit
I was afraid. I hadn’t had enough time to be the most important person in his life, and now with MJ and Nadia, it seemed I’d always be second—third—best.

I turned my head and studied his face, his peaceful, sleeping face. He even looked strong and confident with his eyes closed, his long lashes splayed underneath them. My eyes traced his wide lips. I knew what they felt like on my own. His close beard felt prickly through my hair when he kissed the top of my head. I could feel the memory of it, and my scalp tingled. I’d explored his body, from his toes to the top of his head. Kissed, tasted, pleasured every inch.

He was mine. All I wanted was to keep him that way.

I leaned in and lightly kissed his lips, warm and soft. Always so warm and soft. I traced a finger over one eyebrow. He flinched, but didn’t wake.

I rested my hand over his heart to feel it beating under my palm. There was no way I could ever love anyone as much as him.

Helpless—that was how I felt. The helplessness circled the fear, stalked around it, and poked it, making it raw and sore in my chest. I wanted to take the situation and resolve it quickly, but I couldn’t.

Or could I?

My head snapped to the nightstand, where Merrick’s cell phone was charging. I wouldn’t let myself stop and ponder the consequences of what I was about to do.

Slipping out from under his arm and the heavy down comforter, I grabbed his phone off the nightstand. I stood
frozen with it between my hands, watching him for signs of waking.

He sighed loudly and rolled over onto his stomach.

I dashed to the balcony, opened the door as quietly as I could, and stole away outside to make the call. The breeze was chilly through my short, lightweight nightgown, and chills climbed up my legs and over my bare bottom.

The number was the last on his incoming calls list. I peered over my shoulder through the glass door to Merrick sleeping in bed, knowing he’d be pissed when he found out I called.

I squeezed the phone in my hand. I couldn’t let the helplessness win. I clicked the green send-call button and put the phone to my ear.

On the second ring, Nadia answered. “Dad, I told you, I’d call you. If he finds out I’ve been in contact with you, he’ll destroy this phone and—”

“It’s Rachael.”

Neither of us said anything for a moment.

“Why are you calling?” Nadia asked.

“I want to help. I want this over. Where are you?”

“On a train in the south of France. I don’t know where exactly. I was going to call when we got to wherever he’s taking us.”

“Who else is with you?”

“My mom.”

Gina Montgomery, MJ and Nadia’s mom, was with them. The woman who’d pretended she was dead for the
past twenty years. The woman who let Enzo ruin Merrick’s life. Money was a powerful motivator to keep secrets, and Enzo had given Gina a lot of it to keep her mouth closed. “Is she helping him, or does he have the two of you with him against your will?”

“She’s with him. She’s always been with him. I don’t know… I’ve been confused. I’m trying to do what’s right.”

For a second, I felt sorry for Nadia. But only for a second. My distrust of Nadia kicked in and took over. “What train are you on? We’ll be on the next one out of the station.”

“I don’t know, I—”

“Bullshit, Nadia! What train are you on? Either you want our help, or you’re leading your dad on a wild-goose chase. Which is it?”

“Rachael.”
I snapped my head around at the sound of Merrick’s voice. He stood in the doorway, seething.

I didn’t care. This sit-and-wait business was killing us both. “Which is it, Nadia?” I continued, setting my eyes on Merrick’s, daring him to make me stop.

He fisted his hands, and his jaw clenched along with every muscle in his bare chest and stomach. It wasn’t the time for it, but I couldn’t help admiring the beauty of a pissed-off Merrick, just awoken with his hair sexy and messed up, wearing nothing but pajama pants hanging low on his hips. The sight of him stirred my desire.

I knew how to calm him down when I was off the phone. I still owed him from the evening before anyway.

“I have to go,” Nadia whispered. “Take the TGV out of Paris-Gare de Lyon to Nice-Ville.” Then she hung up.

I lowered the phone from my ear. We stared at each other.

“Get what you wanted?” he asked, his tone dark and menacing.

“She said to take the train to Nice-Ville.”

He shook his head. His impossibly dark eyes like granite pierced into mine.

“You’re pissed,” I said. “I knew you would be.”

Hands on his hips, he took two steps toward me. “You did it anyway.”

“Your judgment’s clouded when it comes to Nadia.” I sank onto the patio chair behind me, gripped the front of Merrick’s pajama bottoms, and pulled him another step forward between my knees.

He glared down at me. “My judgment’s clouded?”

“You want to trust her, so you do.”

“So you take matters into your own hands?”

I leaned forward and grabbed the drawstring on his PJ bottoms with my teeth, pulling the bow free before hooking my thumbs into the waistband and tugging them down to drop at his ankles. Looking up at him, I ran my hands up his bare thighs and took his cock in my hands. “Yes. I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Merrick closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting his head fall back slightly. “I’m so fucking pissed at you,
Rachael. I’m a man. I don’t need you running interference. I can take whatever happens.”

I licked him from base to tip, hearing the rush of air from his lungs. His hands came off his hips and threaded through my hair.

“So be fucking pissed. But you’re mine. It’s my job to take care of you.” I took his rapidly growing length into my mouth. There was something so powerful about loving this man, about giving him pleasure and taking it from him. He was my addiction.

I pushed away the thought that we might be seen out on the balcony, too turned on by his arousal to care. The way he felt in my mouth—hot, silky, and huge—made me want to take him deeper, faster. My abandon of all reservations with Merrick was nothing I’d ever experienced before. I’d do anything to him, with him, and let him take me however he wanted.

Merrick fisted my hair in his hands and thrust himself in and out of my mouth. I knew he was working out his anger, but he’d stop if I wanted him to. I didn’t. His frustration, eagerness, and lust fueled me. I reached between his legs, massaging his balls, working him into a panting frenzy. “Fuck, Rachael—killing me.”

Merrick stepped back, pulling himself out of my mouth, holding the base of his cock, eyes flaming with heat and rage. He pulled me up and turned me around. “Bend over the chair.”

My silky slip of a nightgown rose as I knelt on the
seat and leaned over the back. I closed my eyes as Merrick grasped both sides of my ass, slipping both thumbs between my cheeks and sliding them down to my middle, spreading my lips apart. I gripped the back of the chair tighter as he spread my wetness with his fingers, circling my clitoris before guiding the head of his cock to my opening and shoving his length inside in one fast, hard thrust.

I threw my head back, gasping and arching into him. So full. The sensation was always unexpected, no matter how many times he’d filled me.

He kept his grip on my ass cheeks as he slammed himself into me over and over, squeezing me so hard, I knew his fingertips would leave bruises, but the pinch of pain with the overwhelming pleasure thrilled me.

“Stay. Out. Of it,” Merrick said, punctuating the words with deep thrusts. One hand grabbed a handful of my hair. “Am. I. Clear?” He pulled me back against him hard, using my hair like reins, to meet each brutal thrust. I cried out.

“Am. I. Clear?”
he repeated, continuing his deep penetrating assaults.

“Yes!” I reached back and grabbed his thigh. My insides were quivering on the brink of my first pleasure/pain orgasm. “Please. Yes.”

Merrick let go of my hair and wrapped his forearms around my waist, leaning over my back. “Let it go.” His husky voice was like a growl in my ear.

I wasn’t sure if he meant the situation with Nadia, or my own burgeoning release, but the blinding red heat behind
my eyes and the prickling surge of energy sparking at every nerve ending were my answer.

I exploded, shattered, shook and convulsed, whimpered, and collapsed back against Merrick as a sob escaped my throat.

He collected me into his arms, lifted me from the chair, and carried me back to bed. The warmth of his chest against my cheek and his embrace cracked me open, and tears rolled from my eyes.

Merrick covered us with the down duvet and held me tight against him. “What is it? Was I too—”

“No,” I whispered, placing a kiss over his heart. “It’s just with everything—yesterday—the arguing, and you seem so far away, locked from me inside your head with this whole mess—I just…” I lifted my head, resting my chin on his chest to see his eyes, always so deep, their darkness so sincere. “I miss you.”

Merrick traced a tear down my cheek, his finger featherlight on my skin. “I’m sorry. I want to be… I’ve never…” He trailed off, glancing up at the ceiling. “I want to be the kind father my own father never was. I can’t screw this up.”

Overwhelming feelings clenched in my chest, sending more tears flowing from my eyes. “Merrick,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. I scooted up his body, resting on top of him. “I love you.”

He held my head between his hands and kissed me. I tasted his sweet lips and my salty tears. His mouth moved
over mine slowly, thoroughly. I cherished each and every kiss. Every touch. Every time we made love.

My fingers slid up the sides of his neck, the tips tickled by the hair on his nape. I treasured this man, could never imagine loving someone as much as I loved him. Never wanted to spend a day without him for the rest of my life.