Take Me Back (9 page)

“Right,” she says.

“Speaking of that weekend,” Aunt Jan says, and my stomach crashes to my feet, “we never did get the whole story of what happened at Merrick’s dad’s house.”

I’d told them I had to go, that it was urgent and I wasn’t sure what Enzo Rocha needed from me. All I knew at the time was that I wanted to help you and your father have a better relationship. Then I got to the Rocha estate and what I found out turned your world upside down.

I meet Aunt Jan’s eyes, then Mom’s. “I met MJ. Merrick Junior.”

They both look at me like I have two heads. “He has a little boy?” Mom says.

“No. Not exactly. MJ’s a grown man, Mom.”

Her face goes slack. “What?”

I wave a hand in the air. “It’s a long, confusing story and there’s no time to tell it now. Merrick had no idea MJ existed. They have a great relationship now. MJ’s living in Merrick’s apartment in Atlanta, but please don’t bring him up unless Merrick does, okay?”

“Fine.” Mom shakes her head.

“At least she won’t be changing his kid’s diapers,” Aunt Jan tells Mom. “Being the evil stepmom is probably a lot easier when the kid doesn’t live with you.”

“I’m not a stepmom! MJ’s five years younger than me. We get along great!”

“He’s closer to your age than his dad, isn’t he?” Mom says. Her disapproval is clear. “Merrick was only a boy when he made that baby. What kind of upbringing—”

“Mom. His mom was dead and his dad had nothing to do with him, okay, so let it go. It happened one time, and MJ was the product of that encounter. I doubt Merrick would want it any other way. His son is a blessing to him. Please. Just let it go.”

“I’m not going to say a word.”

Movement outside catches the corner of my eye. “He’s here.” You turn a black Ford SUV into the driveway. I still remember you renting that same vehicle the first time you were here, and how it blew me away that someone with billions of dollars would rent a Ford.

Now I know it’s just you, trying not to be someone with billions of dollars.

I pull the door open and rush outside. As you park, I catch your dimpled smile through the window. You step out as I round the front of the SUV and grab me around the waist. “God, it’s good to see you.”

You’re holding me so tight, it’s hard to breathe. Your hands and warm body fill me with the familiarity of home. I melt into you, savoring the smell of your skin—a trace of cologne, laundry soap, and you… all man—and the soft prickle of your closely trimmed beard against my cheek. “You too.” I stand on tiptoe and press my lips to yours. Three days without your warm, full mouth kissing me is way too long.

“Hang on,” you say and hold me back while you reach into the SUV and bring out a medium-sized box. “This is for you, but you can’t open it until later.”

I take it and feel the slight weight of it, not able to imagine what’s inside. “What is it?”

You lift my chin and kiss me again. “You’ll see.”

After unloading your suitcase, we make our way inside. Mom’s nowhere to be seen, and Jan’s on the edge of her seat trying to figure out the final puzzle on TV.

You set down your suitcase and run your eyes over the screen. “Want me to tell you what it is?”

Jan scowls at you. “No, smarty pants. I can figure—” The timer on TV buzzes. The contestant didn’t guess and neither did Aunt Jan. “Fine. What is it?”

“Four score and seven years ago,” you say in unison with Pat Sajak, the host, as Vanna White lights up the letters.

You shrug. “I have an eye for puzzles.”

Mom rushes in from the kitchen. “Merrick! Welcome! We’re so glad you’re here.” She practically tackles you. “I’m making Rachael’s favorite for dinner, mini chicken dumplings.”

“Sounds great. Smells great.”

“Come on,” I say, pulling your hand. “You can put your suitcase in my room.”

We get to the hallway and I stop abruptly, turning so you bump into me. “I want to know what’s in this box,” I say, holding it up. “I’m opening it when we get in my room. No arguing about it, either. Got it?”

You laugh. “Got it. But it comes with an explanation, so let me get my story out before you go tearing into it.”

I open my bedroom door and lead you inside. “Okay, start talking.”

You set your suitcase aside and close and lock the door. Your eyes narrow and you lower your chin, licking your lips. There’s no mistaking what’s on your mind.

“Merrick…” I back away, giggling. You look like you’re ready to pounce.

“The last time we were in your bed, we were waiting until you trusted me.” You stride toward me, loose-limbed and sexy. “You trust me, don’t you?”

I put my hands out and press against your chest to stop you. “Of course I do, but my mom’s in the next room.”

“We’ll be quiet,” you say, brushing your fingertips over my breast.

“Maybe you’ll be quiet, but I know what you do to me.” I slip my hand up the back of your neck, tangling my fingers in your hair and pull your mouth to mine. Need throbs in my center as our tongues slide together. My thighs ache and my nipples harden.

“I’m not going to be without you for one more second,” you whisper, pushing my shirt up and pulling the cups of my bra under my breasts. “You’re an adult and she knows we live together.”

My knees give out as your lips and tongue tease and suck my nipple. You lower us to the floor, your hands working fast, shoving my jeans down over my hips.

Your smooth skin on mine, being this close with your warm breath caressing me, I never want to go one day without this. Without you.

Desperate to have more of you, I unfasten your pants and free your erection. It’s hard and needy in my hand. I have to have you inside me. Nothing has ever been so urgent.

With your back against the bed, I crawl on your lap and straddle you. Your fingers push my panties aside. Your knuckles brush down my center, parting my wet lips while your tongue does the same to my mouth.

I lead the head of your cock to my entrance. “Please. Now. Before I scream.”

A low, quiet chuckle rumbles in your chest. “No need to be frustrated.” You grab my hips and pull me down on your shaft hard and fast, making me arch and gasp. “I’ll always give you what you want.”

We’re both greedy and desperate, our mouths and tongues seeking each other. I can’t stop tasting the sweet, salty skin on your neck. My hands grip and glide over your chest under your shirt while you thrust in and out of me.

My senses overwhelm with you, my release builds and burns, comes quickly. I grasp your hair with both hands and press my forehead to yours. “God, Mer—” My mouth drops open and my eyes squeeze tight.

Your hands squeeze my ass tighter and your breath stutters. You’re so big inside me; it’s so tight with me throbbing around you. I know I’m taking you over the edge with me.

You let out a deep groan and wrap your arms around me, holding me tight against you while you pump your own release into me and draw out the last echoes of mine.

Finally, we still. I rest my head on your shoulder and you run lazy fingers up and down my back. “Are you ready for your surprise?” you whisper into my hair.

I snuggle in close, breathing your soapy, masculine scent. “Yes, but I don’t want to move yet.”

“Then don’t. Just listen first.” You begin stroking my hair. “MJ told me how he found you guys at the plantation. How Joan was afraid to go inside and you were pale as a… well, pale and freaked out.”

You take a deep breath and shift a little underneath me. “I figured if Joan was afraid, then something was going on there.”

I snap my head up. “So, you’ll believe her, but not me?”

You place your hands on the sides of my face. “No. You have to understand, I don’t believe in this sort of thing. Well, I didn’t. I know Joan didn’t, either, so if she was affected by something in that house, then I figured maybe I would be, too. That’s why I went there yesterday.”

I sit back and gape at you. “You went to the Weston Plantation yesterday?”

You twist a strand of my hair and nod.

“And?”

You stare into my eyes. “She’s there. Ingrid’s there, and I know what she wants.”

“What? What does she want?” I clutch your shoulders, desperate. How could you know what Ingrid wants and I don’t? She and I have our connection. Have I not been paying close enough attention?

You reach back onto the bed and hand me the small box you brought. “It’s inside.”

My hands shake as I open the lid and set it aside.

Sitting in the bottom of the box is the small silver cup engraved with flowers that Maddie and I found in Ingrid’s trunk. I hook my finger through the handle and lift it out. The tiny acorn with the smiling face seems to mock me. Why didn’t I realize she wanted this? It was the only item in the trunk that was left behind at the plantation.

“I wandered around the plantation—inside and out—for hours,” you say, watching me study the cup. “Eventually, I ended up in the great room, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace.” You tap the side of the cup. “This fell off the mantel. When I picked it up and placed it back, it fell off again. The third time, it flew across the room and I knew.” You smile and shake your head. “I knew your Ingrid was responsible. She was trying to tell me something.”

Jealously and hurt squeeze inside my chest. “Why didn’t she show
me
?”

You twirl a lock of my hair around your finger. “She would have. I was convenient. I was standing right there and she knew I didn’t believe. She had to be obvious to get through my thick skull.”

“You’re sure it’s the cup she wants?” How could you know if I didn’t?

“She wouldn’t let me put it back, so I’m guessing she wanted me to take it with me for a reason.”

I hold the cool silver between both hands. “She wants it at Turtle Tear.”

“Maddie told me spirits sometimes attach themselves to objects. Ingrid might be attached to that cup.”

“Bringing it home would bring her home, too.” I stand and take a few short steps to my dresser and set the cup down. “If you’re here, Ingrid, welcome to Cleveland. We’ll have you back at Turtle Tear in no time.”

Behind me, you laugh. I spin to look at you, and you hold your hands up in defense. “I believe. I do. But, it’s just so damn strange.”

I shoot you a cocky grin. “Tell me something about us that isn’t damn strange.”

You laugh louder. “True. We are an absolute freak show.” You reach out and swipe your arm behind my knees, catching me when I fall into you. “There’s nobody I’d rather be freaky with.” You pinch my nipple and tickle my side, making me laugh and squirm.

“I have something else,” you say, reaching into your back pocket. You pull out a recipe card and hand it to me. “Carlos found this in the kitchen boxes you brought back.”

I take it from you and stare at the handwriting in disbelief. “The Turtle Tear Key Lime Pie recipe.”

“I never thought it would be found.” You kiss my cheek. “I bet it tastes almost as good as you.”

A knock on my door makes me jump. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” Mom says from the hallway. “Dinner’s ready.”

“We’ll be right out,” I say, biting my lip to keep from howling with laughter. If she only knew you were sitting here with your pants undone and me in my underwear with my boobs trapped under my bra. “I’m going to hell for this,” I whisper in your ear and suck your earlobe in my mouth.

“You don’t go to hell for having sex in your childhood bedroom. At least, I don’t think so. I’m really not up on the rules.”

I push myself back up and grab your hand, yanking you to your feet. “Food. I’m starving.”

We fix our clothes and head for the bedroom door. Before I open it, I take you in my arms and kiss you. “Thank you.”

A crease forms between your eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I’ll never doubt you again.”

“You were worried about me. I know your true intentions don’t always come through in the actions you take—like sending me here—but I know you did it because you were concerned.”

“God, you have no idea. When you started—”

I kiss you to keep you from talking. “I’m sorry I lied to you. Even if you didn’t believe in Ingrid, there was no excuse for me not telling you the truth. I’ll never do it again. I promise you.”

Your face relaxes and your close your eyes, leaning your head down against mine. I stroke your cheek, the stiff stubble along your jaw, and lift my lips to yours. “Promises should be sealed with kisses.”

“Where should we put it?” I glance around the tree house bedroom knowing this is where the silver cup belongs, but uncertain where Ingrid would like it to be placed. We landed on Turtle Tear ten minutes ago and rushed right here.

“Somewhere she can’t watch us having sex.”

I laugh, thinking you’re joking, but the serious expression on your face tells me you’re not. “You think she’s going to…” I can’t help but laugh again. “Seriously, Merrick?”

You laugh, but nod at the same time. “What? You wanted me to believe. She made me believe. Now you think I’m nuts for wanting some privacy?”

I slide my arms around your waist and kiss your chin. “Okay, we’ll keep it out of the bedroom.”

You follow me down the spiral staircase to the first floor. Standing beside the hot tub, nothing seems to fit with Ingrid in this room. It’s too modern with the white sofa and carpet, and wet bar with stainless steel appliances. “This won’t work.”

“No,” you agree. “What about outside?”

“I can’t just stick it in the tree or something.” Men.

“No, I know. That’s not what I meant. We can find somewhere safe and hidden.” You open the door and step out onto the deck.

I close the door behind me and stand beside you, taking a deep breath of the lime-tinged, floral-scented air of the island.

Home.

I’m home, and I love it here. I know why Ingrid was so desperate to get back. Nowhere else on Earth compares with the wild wonder that’s Turtle Tear.

“I figured I’d find you here,” Beck says, standing on the ground below shading his eyes with one hand. “How was your visit home, Rach?”

“Good, but I’m glad to be back.” He grins, and I realize I even missed Beck. He’s like a brother to me. A big, muscly, tattooed brother in need of a haircut. “Still with Joan?”