Seeing is Believing (18 page)

“Mmm,” he said, lapping at her before he pulled back and looked up at her over the length of her body, his eyes narrowed, lips shiny. “Can you have an orgasm? Is that what you’re asking?”

She nodded.

“Of course, sweetheart. You can come whenever you want.” He nuzzled his nose against her inner thigh. “In fact, I wish you would. I want to taste your cum.”

Whoa. She’d never had anyone say anything like that to her before. It sounded so dirty, yet so exciting. Like instead of him doing her a favor by giving her oral sex, he was enjoying it just as much as she was. It was that thought that had her whole body relaxing, her head lolling back onto his shirt, thighs dropping open farther.

Piper stared at the inky sky through the branches of the apple trees, stars burning as intensely as her passion as Brady stroked over her with his tongue.

It was surreal, so unbelievable, yet so intently real that Piper didn’t think she had ever been quite so much in the moment as she was right then. She was at one with her body, and she was building towards an amazing release. Forcing her fingers to let go of the blanket, she sucked in a breath, then felt her body explode in a powerful orgasm that had her lungs tightening and her teeth sinking into her bottom lip to prevent a raucous cry out. Since her body was lax, her shoulders relaxed, she felt the waves of pleasure even more acutely, the breeze drifting over her skin like soft fingers, teasing her nipples and bringing on a shiver in the midst of her shudders of release.

As the undulations stopped, she finally remembered to breathe, sucking in a huge lungful of air, the shock of what she had just experienced robbing her of any speech. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know what to think. But she didn’t need to. Brady looked up.

“Delicious,” he said. “That’s how your cum tastes.”

She nodded, which was probably an odd response, because how would she know, but she was just giving an automatic polite reply. Polite to her addled brain, anyway. Brady moved up beside her and kissed her, a deep, musky embrace that was her and him mixed together. Then he lay back, pulling her onto him.

“Ride me.”

She hesitated, knowing she wasn’t the best at establishing the rhythm required to make it work for the man. So he sat up, moving her legs to either side of his, holding her in his lap, her breasts pressed to his warm chest. The night air was cooler than she had expected and she was feeling the chill, but not pressed against him like that. Not with his muscular arms wrapped around her, making her feel protected and very feminine.

“I love your hair,” he said, burying his face in her curls. “It’s so soft and shiny . . . like a magical mystery tour.”

She laughed softly, very aware of his erection pressing against her still-damp sex. “Are you comparing my hair to a Beatles album?”

“I think I am.”

“Thank you.” Piper started to move her hips, bumping against him, wanting more. Her ache had resumed, and had increased to a deep throb, and he was so close to being inside her, yet wasn’t attempting to take her.

“Take it if you want it,” he murmured, kissing along her jaw, nipping at the corner of her mouth. “Or maybe I’ll just give it to you.”

Shifting slightly, he pushed inside her. Their moans burst out simultaneously, his jagged and raw, hers high-pitched and shocked.

“Oh, Brady,” she said, because there didn’t seem to be anything else to say.

His eyes locked on hers. “Piper.”

There was something about the way he said her name that threw her. Was it supposed to sound like that? So focused, so intense, so reverent? Was that how a man who was having a casual affair sounded? She didn’t know. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, read anything into what he was feeling.

But she knew what she was feeling, and it wasn’t casual. It was so far from casual it needed more than six degrees of separation. At least seven, maybe eight.

Brady thrust up into her once, twice, then he wrapped his arms around her and brought her down on top of him. Her breasts splayed on his chest, her hair fell over his shoulders and face. Her hips were forced to spread in a way that brought her body in intimate connection with his, her clitoris rubbing on him, his cock buried deep inside her. She reached up to pull her hair back, force it back over her shoulder. He helped her, tucking it behind her ears, then pulled her mouth to his for a soft kiss.

His expression when their kiss ended was so searing, Piper had to close her eyes. She couldn’t see those green eyes, couldn’t imagine that he was as fascinated by her as she was by him. She couldn’t do that to herself, so she closed her eyes and sat up, bracing herself on his chest. Moving her hips, she rode him, like he’d requested, enjoying the full length of him in a way she wouldn’t have thought possible. He was big, he filled her, but it was a delicious stretching and she picked up the pace, feeling a little desperate, the aching in her sex moving upwards to invade her heart.

Letting go of his chest, she dug her fingers into her hair, dragging it back off her face, wanting to feel the air on her face, cool her heated skin, cool her heated emotions.

“Can I come?” he asked, gripping her hips tightly, grinding up inside her.

Piper opened her eyes. The urgency on his face sent a shiver through her. “Of course you can, sweetheart,” she said, mimicking his earlier words.

“I need to come.” He gritted his teeth.

“So do I.” It was amazing, but she did. The position tripped off little ripples of pleasure all up and down her moist channel, and she was going to come with him.

“Holy shit.” Brady closed his eyes briefly, then held her hard enough to bruise her, thrusting with a fierceness that took her breath away.

The hot throb inside her had her squeezing her muscles onto his erection, and her orgasm blended with his, their cries puncturing the still night air. It went on and on and she was amazed her body was capable of such intensity, such depth. She let it express the emotion she couldn’t, the acute pleasure she felt when she was with Brady.

Piper collapsed onto his chest, sweaty and out of breath, a cool shiver trailing over her skin, her heart thumping, her thoughts both awed and frightened.

Brady stroked her back and played with her hair. “Damn, girl. You nearly killed me.”

“You feel pretty alive to me.” Piper listened to the rapid thump of his heart in his chest. Her hips ached from the position but she didn’t want to move. She wanted to hold on to this moment, to memorize it, to take it with her.

But the goose bumps on her flesh had him rolling her onto her side. “You’re cold.”

“I’m not sure I care.”

Brady pulled the sleeping bag around them like a hot dog bun and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for fulfilling my teenage fantasy. Look, there’s the big dipper.” He pointed to the sky.

“I think you already showed me that,” she told him, grinning as she snuggled up against him. He was big and strong and warm.

He let out a bark of laughter. “True that.” He gave a yawn. “If this were a camping trip we could sleep like this.”

She didn’t say anything, not sure what point he was making. Or trying to make. Not wanting to think about how it would feel to wake up with Brady.

“I guess we should go back to the house.”

“Guess so.”

Neither one of them moved. The truck bed wasn’t particularly comfortable but she didn’t care. She was warm, her body satisfied. The moment lingered, and she wanted it to.

But with a groan, Brady sat up and crawled around the truck, collecting his discarded clothes, and the moment was over. Trying not to sigh, Piper did the same, grateful her panties were white. It was easier to find them in the dark. She lay back down on the sleeping bag to pull them on. A few more seconds, more fumbling with clothes and zippers and shoes, and they were dressed.

Like nothing had happened. But it didn’t feel that way. When she jumped down off the truck into Brady’s arms, she felt light-headed, and it had nothing to do with dropping four feet to the ground.

She was glad to be driving. It gave her something to do with her hands. Even though she was very aware of him next to her, she could pretend she had to keep her eyes on the road. At one point he brushed her hair off her shoulder, but otherwise he was as quiet as a church mouse, something she did not normally associate with him. What was he thinking? Was he as stunned as she was?

When they got to the house, he did stop her at the back door. “How about dinner one night this week?”

“Sure.”

He kissed her. “Good night, then. Since I don’t really want to kiss you in there.”

She smiled, her complacent mood shifting to anxious. It was one thing to throw caution to the wind when no one was around to see it. It was another thing to face her parents with rumpled clothes. Hopefully they’d be in bed.

They went into the house, and she kicked her sandals off in the mudroom and moved into the kitchen. The room was empty, a single light left on for her. Silently they moved up the stairs, and she was opening the door to the guest room when the hall light came on, stark and harsh. Brady squinted like she did. Her parents appeared and there were words exchanged, crap about sheets and extra pillows and coffee, and she didn’t hear a damn thing because she felt as awkward as she had the day she’d gotten her first period and her grandmother had baked her a cake in celebration of her womanhood.

Then Brady was in the guest room, the door firmly closing behind him, and she said, “Good night,” to her parents, or more accurately the floor, then she went into her room. Leaning against the closed door, she took a deep, shuddering breath. What the hell was she doing? She was in way over her head. Like she was at the ocean floor with sunken ships and weird eyeless fish and no hope of getting to the surface kind of over her head.

Her parents’ voices rose in the bedroom next to hers. If she went into her walk-in closet, she could hear them. It was a trick she had learned at fourteen, but one she had rarely used. She didn’t like to spoil surprises like Christmas gifts, and she didn’t want to hear them arguing or having sex. So if she heard them, it was usually an accident of her actually needing something in her closet. But tonight she went in and put her forehead to the wall so she could hear as clearly as possible.

“I should throw his ass out of here,” her dad said, sounding very, very angry.

“Danny, you can’t do that.”

“Why the hell not? This is my house, isn’t it? He said he was going to talk to her, the little prick. He told me he would tell her that he isn’t staying here, that she shouldn’t expect anything.”

He had told her that. Brady couldn’t be blamed for this. Piper crossed her arms over her chest.

“You don’t know what they talked about,” her mom said soothingly.

“I know they didn’t do any talking at all. They come tumbling in here, all wrinkled and smelling like sex. That’s not like her, Amanda, you know that.”

Embarrassment crashed over her. They smelled like sex? It made sense, but she hadn’t thought about it, and the realization that her dad could not only guess what they’d done but smell it . . . God, she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. After being beaten unconscious.

“She’s entitled to a social life.”

Her dad snorted. “If she wants to date, I’m good with that. A guy her own age. Who doesn’t just want a quick lay in a pickup truck. I’m sorry, I just don’t approve of what I saw tonight.”

Piper pulled herself off the wall like she’d been slapped. Never in the sixteen years she had lived with him had her father said he disapproved of her.

It stung.

She stripped off her sex-soiled clothes in the closet and pulled on a clean T-shirt. Out of her dresser she yanked a pair of panties and stepped into them. In bed, she tried to close her eyes and sleep, but they immediately popped back open. All she could see in front of her was the deep green of Brady’s eyes as he stared at her, their bodies entwined in the most intimate way possible.

And over that image she could hear her father’s voice, ringing with anger and disdain.

One man had a passing interest in her.

The other would always be there for her.

The choice was obvious.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Chapter Eleven

BRADY PAUSED IN THE ENTRANCE OF THE CUTTERS-VILLE
Public Library and marveled that while the world at large changed daily, life in Cuttersville remained very much the same. There were new books featured on the New Release wall, and the computers had been upgraded, but otherwise the library looked exactly the same as it had when he was a kid, rolling his way across the carpet through story hour with his stepmom. He hadn’t exactly ever learned to sit still for a book, either to listen or to read one himself.

Yet he remembered this room, the main entrance with its curved circulation desk, and the children’s area with a caterpillar mural painted on the wall, now faded and chipped. There were a couple of old guys using the computers and three mothers knitting while their kids flipped through picture books. He supposed a library was the sign of an elevated society, but the Cuttersville one looked like a place where the budget had taken a crap. It was mildly depressing to him.

Then again, maybe he was just having a moody moment. He’d missed Piper that morning, getting up after she left for work, and he’d had to endure the cold, barely contained fury of Danny Tucker, who clearly had no doubts whatsoever that Brady had bounced his only daughter. Which he had. Quite thoroughly.

Just remembering the way she had rocked onto his cock had him wishing he were wearing looser pants.

His only defense was that no guy in his right mind would turn down what Piper was offering.

He’d talked to her. They were clear on what they were doing. It was a thing they were having for three weeks.

So why did he feel like he’d drunk too much apple juice? His chest burned. It wasn’t good.

Something really weird was happening to him and he had a sneaking suspicion it was something he’d been avoiding for years.

Intent on getting away from Danny and his rather large fists, Brady had driven to his grandmother’s to get her paint preferences, but was told to consult Piper on them. Then he’d gone to the hardware store for spackle and painting supplies but was told by the clerk that Piper had already purchased all of that for the house on Swallow, if that’s what he was doing, and was that what he was doing? Annoyed by that point, he’d gone to visit his stepmother, who had enveloped him in a hug, then asked him whether he was aware that gossips were suggesting he had an interest in Piper Tucker.

There was nothing left to do with his day but come to the library and see Bree Murphy-Carrington, Abby’s sister. He spotted her after a quick sweep of the whole room. There was no mistaking her black hair and long, dangling pewter earrings. She hadn’t changed one bit, and as he walked towards her, she looked up from her desk. “Hey, Brady, how are you? Abby said you might stop by.”

“I’m great, how are you?” “Great” might be putting a bit of a positive spin on it, but that was his story and he was sticking with it.

“Good.” She stood up, and he saw her black lace shirt was covering a very pregnant stomach. “I’m having another baby, which is ridiculous. My son, Alistair, is ten. But this little girl decided she wanted to wait to be born. I guess she didn’t want to share with her brother.”

“Wow, congrats. Both you and Abby having babies at the same time—that’s great. Cousins to play with are cool.” Like him and Shelby, even though there was a gap between their ages.

“That is the upside. Alistair always had Charlotte’s girls to hang with, so now these two have each other.” She smiled. “But you don’t really want to talk about my fertility, do you? I hear you want some details on the original Brady Stritmeyer and good old Rachel.”

“If you have them, yes, that would be awesome.”

“We have the old newspaper articles on microfiche, which is archaic, I know, but this isn’t exactly tech central here. Then if you want to read about Rachel, we have the records from the Lunatic Asylum.”

“That would be fantastic, thanks.”

He followed Bree, whose gait could best be described as a rapid waddle. He’d bet dollars to doughnuts that she was due to give birth in the next thirty minutes. He patted his pocket for his cell phone, ready to dial 911 if necessary.

“So how’s Piper?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder at him.

What the fuck?

“Abby told me you two were an item. She’s always been our babysitter, you know. One of the sweetest girls I’ve ever met.”

Brady fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that we’re an item. But yes, she is a sweet girl.”

Unbidden, the image of her riding him, her hair tumbling everywhere, leaped into his head, and he cleared his throat. She was a sweet girl with a very sexy side.

Bree gave him a searching, knowing look. “There are certain things you shouldn’t fight. Do you want me to read your tarot?”

He’d rather have a pelican peck his nuts repeatedly. “No, thanks.”

If memory served, the Murphy sisters had always been a little odd. His recent encounters with Abby and Bree were confirming that. It was time for him to steer the conversation. “So do you know anything about Brady Stritmeyer?”

“Just what I’ve heard from the ghost stories. Here’s our microfiche machine. I pulled the relevant films for you.” Bree ushered him into a nook to the left of the main librarian’s desk. “Just scroll up and down.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Bree.” He did appreciate the help, if not the advice.

There was a funny look on her face. “This baby is kicking the stuffing out of me.” She grabbed his hand before he realized what she was doing and placed it on her stomach.

Brady’s first instinct was to yank it away, but he knew how rude that would be. But it felt incredibly bizarre to have his hand on a woman’s pregnant belly, and more than a little awkward. Yet discomfort was replaced by fascination bordering on horror when he felt the baby move. “Holy crap.”

“I know. It’s like a freak show, isn’t it? Not exactly comfortable either.”

“I can imagine.” He really couldn’t, though. The rippling motion beneath his hand continued, and he contemplated feeling his child move inside his wife. It was the first time he had ever actually thought that maybe he might be ready for such an awesome responsibility. A lot of work, yes, but there was something awe-inspiring about what he was feeling, and he could see how having a child could give a certain amount of meaning to an otherwise average life.

“If you need helping searching online job sites, I can help you with that, too.”

“Thanks.” Brady had almost forgotten to remember that he was unemployed. Reality came crashing back down on him. Hell, he couldn’t even take care of himself. There was no hope for being able to have a child. Of course, there was no hope of marriage anytime soon, so why he would think about it was beyond him. Who was stupid enough to agree to be with him for any length of time?

Scowling at the screen as he sat down, Brady suddenly felt resentful. Of his own choices. Of certain people who seemed to think he wasn’t good enough for a certain someone.

He could be good enough.

It was a dead-end thought, so as Bree moved on to other librarian duties, Brady resolutely read the three newspaper articles about the murder of Brady Stritmeyer. He also read a blurb from 1885 that mentioned the original Brady had been promoted to branch manager at the Ohio Savings and Trust Bank. Great. Even his dead namesake had been more successful than him, and the guy had been dead by twenty-five.

Other than that, there was nothing of particular interest or any new information. Brady lived in a boardinghouse. His parents were referred to as esteemed members of Cuttersville society. Rachel’s parents were equally praised and they seemed to have the sympathy of the town post-murder, but they still moved to Marietta for a fresh start.

Rubbing his neck, Brady sat back in his chair. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find, but this wasn’t it. Pulling out his phone, he texted Piper, asking her if the next night was good for dinner. He wanted to see her. He wanted to kiss her, far away from her family, where he could let his tongue linger on hers.

Shutting off the machine, he went in search of Bree.

“No luck, huh?” she asked. “I can tell by the look on your face.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but maybe more details, I guess.”

“If you want, I can search the storage room for the records from the asylum. They all got dumped here when the hospital closed in the sixties. There might be patient records on Rachel.”

“That would be awesome.”

“It might take me a couple of days to dig through the boxes.”

“Sure, no problem. Let me know if you need help. I’m not sure how much digging in boxes you should be doing.” He gestured to her belly.

“Oh, please, I still do yoga every day and have sex with my husband every night.” She laughed. “Not that you need to know that.”

He didn’t. But he couldn’t help but ask, “Every night? Really?” He was more than a little jealous of Ian Carrington, Bree’s husband. Not that he wanted Bree, but he would like sex every night. “I thought marriage killed your sex life.”

She snorted. “Don’t let anyone tell you that. Married people have three times as much sex as single people. It’s the convenience factor. Think about it.”

Brady definitely wanted to think about that. Sex every night. With Piper. Screw the forty virgins in the afterlife. If he could have Piper in bed night after night, he’d die a very happy man.

He massaged his temples. He was getting a headache from all the fucked-up thoughts he was having. It was like he had too much time on his hands so his brain was circling around finding shit to think about since he wasn’t working. Or something like that.

“I don’t think I can have this conversation,” he told her truthfully. “It’s leaving me hopeless.”

She rolled her eyes. “Wake up and smell the inevitable.”

What did that even mean? “I would much rather smell coffee, if you don’t mind.”

His phone buzzed. Knowing it was rude, he still couldn’t resist looking at the text. It had to be Piper. It was.

Won’t be able to go to dinner tomorrow. Open house at school.

Why that had him feeling like a girl without a date for the prom, he couldn’t say. Nor did he want to.

* * *

AFTER SHE HAD LOCKED UP HER CLASSROOM, PIPER
headed over to Shelby’s, who had called and left a message that she had something for her. Piper was distracted when she pulled in to the driveway of Shelby’s gray house. It had been a long day and she was tired. It took a lot of energy to continually shove images of Brady out of her head. Brady smiling at her. Brady taking a bite of her apple. Brady between her thighs.

It was both a disappointment and a relief that she couldn’t go to dinner with him. She didn’t want to face her father’s disapproval. But she didn’t want to give Brady up either. So she was left with churning emotions and a tension headache.

Her phone chimed. Glancing down, she saw it was a text from her half brother, Marcus. Frowning, she opened it.

Need 2 tlk 2 u. Holla.

She sighed. Rarely did she hear from him. Usually if she did, he was asking for something. Money. To borrow her car. Trying to sell her electronics. It made her sad to see what his life had come to, and part of her loved the little boy he had been, but the adult he was now was a stranger to her. She wanted to love him, and she did care about his welfare, but it was hard to establish a relationship with someone she no longer had anything in common with. She wasn’t even exactly sure what “holla” meant.

The hardest thing was realizing that he didn’t really have any emotional attachment to her at all. He saw her as someone he could benefit from financially.

Not sure if she had it in her to deal with Marcus today, Piper knocked on the front door and entered.

“Hey.” Shelby was in the hallway with a basket of laundry. “How are you, sweetie?”

“Fine. What’s up? Did I forget something?” It was possible she’d left half her suitcase here given how quickly she’d been determined to dash away from Brady and the curious stares of Shelby and Boston.

“No, not that I noticed. I just wanted to give you a little something for watching the kids.”

“You don’t have to do that. You know I enjoy their company.”

“I want to.” Shelby plucked at the front of her oversized T-shirt. “Come on in the kitchen. Also, do you mind taking some things over to the house for Brady? I figured the least I can do since I can’t house him is give him some food and some basic household items.”

Wonderful. Piper followed Shelby into the kitchen. “I wasn’t planning on going over there today.”

“No?” Shelby looked overly innocent. “Do you mind stopping on your way home anyway? I need to be here when the girls get off the bus.”

Actually, she kind of did. “I can take them tomorrow.” Today she just couldn’t deal with it. She knew that her father was planning on taking her bed over to the house today, and the last place she wanted to be was in a house with Brady, her father, and her bed.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Shelby handed her a pink envelope off the counter. It probably contained a check or, more likely, a gift card for babysitting. “So, can I ask what is going on with you and Brady?”