Finding Home with You Read online

  “And what are you thinking about?” she asks.

  “I’m thinking that I wish it was your hand holding my dick,” I tell her. “Or better yet, your mouth.”

  “Not my pussy?” she asks.

  “Shit, Erin,” I bite out, my body straining for a release. “Your hand, your mouth, your pussy. I want all of it.”

  Erin laughs, but it’s throaty and deep and sexy as hell. “I know you do, Detective. Just like I wish it was your cock inside me now, not my fingers.”

  “Tell me you’re touching yourself,” I say, my hand moving faster.

  Erin groans through the phone. “I’m not just touching myself, I’m fucking myself,” she says. “Fucking myself with my fingers, just like you once did.”

  “Erin,” I moan, my hand gripping tighter, moving impossibly faster. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come.” And then I do, my dick exploding in my hand as Erin pants down the phone, calling out my name as she comes too.

  “Wow…” she eventually breathes out. “Wow.”

  I smile, thinking wow is a big understatement. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Wow.”

  Erin laughs again, and it’s so sexy that I instantly wish I was there with her, my arm wrapped around her waist and pulling her body against mine as she comes down from this high. I want it to be me making her this way, not just my voice.

  Jesus, what is wrong with me? Not only have I not slept with a single other woman since I started this thing up with Erin, but she’s all I’m thinking about too. I jack off to her, I randomly go to Rockport and fuck her and now, I’ve just had phone sex with her.

  And all of it has been amazing.

  And I really, really want more of it. A lot more.

  Swallowing the words before I blurt them out and completely screw myself to the wall, I say, “I’ll see you in two days, gorgeous. You better be ready.”

  And then I hang up before she can say anything, before she realizes what’s going on here, what I’ve just worked out for myself.

  I’m completely whipped.

  Chapter Two

  Present Day – Rockport

  Erin

  What the hell have I gotten myself into? This is insane. I’m still clutching the phone in my hand, my breathing heavy and my hand in my panties as I try to sort out exactly what is going on with Ryan and me.

  I’m not the relationship type. Not the kind of girl who only sees one guy and gets those butterflies in her stomach and her heart racing, but fuck me if every single time I hear Ryan’s voice, see his face, feels his hands on my body that it doesn’t happen to me.

  I haven’t even been interested in anyone else, not like I have a ton of options in this itty bitty town, but even during tourist season, I could have cared less. After Ryan and I had sex in the restroom at O’Loughlin’s, something in me changed and he was all I could think about. He was and is the only guy I want.

  I wanted to screw with him after our ladies’ room tryst because I assumed he’d be like all the others. He’d fuck me and walk away. When I left him in there, that shocked look on his face, I knew I couldn’t get pregnant. I was on the pill, but saying it left me in control and him looking stupid. But then he surprised me by showing up at my door to apologize and I realized he wasn’t like all the other guys.

  Strangely enough he makes me so angry at times that I want to slap him across the face, but he challenges me in ways I never imagined and I love everything about it. The mix of emotions is totally foreign to me, yet completely exhilarating.

  Having him inside me, having him fuck me, is the most amazing feeling. He completely satisfies my every need, every desire that builds inside me, but I find myself craving him even more as soon as it ends. I think the worst part is that when he is inside me, in that moment of utter blissful confusion, I’d do anything he asked, and unfortunately for me, that feeling is flooding my life outside of having sex with him. I feel like I would be anything he wanted me to be, do anything just to be what he needs, just to keep him in my life. Somehow it’s perfection and torture all at the same time.

  “Ryan, you beautiful asshole,” I mutter, doing anything but hating him.

  I can feel myself fading and eventually letting my guard down with him. Knowing this façade I have in place can only last so long, I worry about what might come. Being happy with Ryan can only last so long. It’s the way it always goes. Guys like Ryan don’t stay faithful for long and I’m not certain I want to go through that again. But still I find myself drawn to him and there are moments I almost don’t care if he breaks my heart.

  My phone rings and like a crazy ass, I fumble it in my hand and drop it on the floor. Lunging for it in the hopes that it’s once again Ryan, because in addition to the awesome sex we have, I actually enjoy talking to him.

  Our conversations are easy and he makes me laugh with his smart mouth and witty comebacks. I have never found someone who infuriates me and makes me feel so alive before. Debating everything from politics to how to pronounce fudgesicle with him. It always ends with one of us angry, leading to a far too intense session of fucking.

  I shake my head as my phone continues to ring, my torso hanging off the bed as I grab for it.

  “Hello,” I say, but it comes across more annoyed than I planned.

  “He hasn’t called, huh?” Kelsey says without greeting me.

  “What, that stupid ass? I couldn’t give a shit,” I respond playing it as casual as possible knowing I just made myself come listening to his voice.

  “Whatever you gotta tell yourself,” Kelsey says laughing. “But anyway, you know Beck’s birthday is this weekend and we’re having a party at the pub, but I was hoping you could help me out and make some cupcakes?”

  “Of course, no problem,” I say, thankful for the turn in conversation. Up until this phone call my thoughts have been consumed with Ryan and only Ryan. “What kind do you want me to make?”

  “Anything you want, I just need at least three dozen.”

  “Three dozen, shit, Kelsey, that’s a lot.”

  “Well, I’m sure Ryan will be up on Friday night, maybe he can help you.” And there he is, back again. I can’t get rid of this boy if I tried. I exhale hard into the phone, irritated at her constant teasing. “Maybe you could even make yourself a bikini out of frosting and let Ryan lick it off you.” By now Kelsey is laughing so hard I can hardly understand her.

  “Stop giving me shit. You and Beck do it like rabbits and you don’t hear me saying a damn thing.”

  “Fine, fine,” she says conceding, but still giggling. “But thank you. If you need any help, let me know.”

  “I will. See you on Saturday.”

  Just when I think she’s about to hang up, she gets one more in there. “You know, it would be easier if you would just admit you like him. No judgment from me. I kinda like you guys together. He keeps you busy.”

  “Like him?” I say sounding appalled. “He’s a bastard.”

  Immediately after hanging up with Kelsey and before I’ve even set my phone down it rings again. My social life is suddenly off the charts, and I answer without even looking at the screen.

  “Hello,” I say in a sing-song voice assuming it’s Ryan or Kelsey.

  The line is silent for a few seconds and my heart immediately begins to race. I’ve been here before. I know exactly what’s happening, and before I can react, I hear the line click and the voice that forces its way into my ear.

  All the voice mutters is my name, but it sends chills down my spine and my hands begin to sweat so much that I fear the phone will slip from my hands.

  I’ve let my guard down, let my happiness and this euphoric feeling fool me into thinking I’m safe. But all that is gone now and taking over is a sick feeling of nausea that settles heavy in the pit of my stomach.

  This isn’t the first time this has happened, but it’s been so long that I’ve fooled myself into thinking it might actually be over.

  I hang up just as I
was told to do, but I know it’s still too late. Those five or so seconds I stayed on the line were enough to get what he needed.

  I don’t know who the man was, but I know the man who pays him and that’s what scares me.

  Most people wouldn’t fear their father, but I do and for good reason.

  He’s the head of one of the most powerful mobs in Boston. I was born into a family that I never wanted to be a part of, and despite being raised outside of Atlanta; I was never able to get away from it.

  I swallow hard, trying to quell the feeling of vomit that is rising up in my throat. I reach for the gun I keep in my nightstand drawer, stashing it in my purse. I grab my car keys, but immediately toss them back on the bed.

  Walking seems safer at this moment and I’m not taking any chances. I know it was just a phone call and the last time this happened it amounted to nothing, but I’m on edge now.

  Before leaving I pick up the house keys I have in a bowl by the front door, keeping them tucked in the palm of my hand. I head across town hoping I won’t be noticed with the darkness that blankets everything around me.

  I don’t even bother to knock when I get there, just let myself in as if I live here too. The house is quiet, but a small porch light illuminates the front door along with a table lamp and the glow of the TV, all indications that he’s home.

  He’s knows it’s me because this isn’t the first time this has happened and it probably won’t be the last.

  I call out just in case, not that I think I will scare him, more to make sure he’s alone.

  “Hey Finn.”

  “Hey Erin,” he calls back. “Everything okay?”

  “Nope,” I reply and that’s when he meets me in the entryway. “I answered my phone.” And without any more explanation he understands.

  “You gotta dump your phone again,” he says without missing a beat and I nod in response. But it’s not as easy as last time or the time before. People get suspicious, they ask questions, and even worse this time there’s Ryan.

  “How do I explain this to Ryan?” I ask, not entirely certain whether my question applies to the phone or to everything.

  Finn shrugs his shoulders, but tells me, “He might be a better person to tell than me.”

  Finn is probably right. I know he can’t really help me with any of this. He’s a small town police chief not someone who has the resources to hunt down a mob boss. I’m not even sure I want anyone hunting him down. I just want to be left alone.

  Finn knows I won’t get into it with him about whether I should tell Ryan or not. That’s why I’m here. I don’t want advice. I don’t want to talk. I just want to feel safe.

  “You ready for bed?” he asks, walking toward his bedroom as I follow.

  He hands me a t-shirt and I disappear into the bathroom to wash my face and change.

  When I emerge from the bathroom Finn is already in bed, and the room is shrouded in darkness. I climb in next to him and as I do my chest tightens and a lump fills my throat. I choke back the sound that I know will leave my lips if I let myself cry.

  I want to cry out of fear, but mostly I want to cry because no one has ever been as kind to me without explanation as Finn has.

  “Good night, Erin,” he says and I can hear the concern in his voice, yet I also know I’m safe.

  “I’ll sneak out in the morning so we don’t become the town gossip,” I respond and Finn laughs.

  “You’ll always be the town gossip, Erin. You’re an outsider.”

  He’s right; I am an outsider. I always have been and probably always will be, but at least now I fly under the radar. As a kid that was impossible because everyone knew who my father was, but Kelsey never held it against me. She was my friend regardless, and her acceptance meant Finn became my friend too.

  I owe both of them so much.

  For the rest of the week, Finn comes by everyday to check on me despite me feeling like I may have overreacted. I continually apologize to him for involving him in this shit show, but he reminds me that if I want this to work, that if I truly want to disappear I have to assume nothing is safe.

  Even after all these years, I’m still trying to come to terms with this, and I know it’s why I keep everyone at arms length. It’s all on a need to know basis because I know that I’m possibly putting someone else’s life at risk by involving them. So I get a new phone and a new phone. Make up some lame excuse about my old number being stolen, pretend as though it’s no big deal.

  It’s been a long and exhausting week and by the time Friday arrives, I’m crabby and exhausted and the last thing I want to do is make cupcakes. But because I love Kelsey, I hit the store on my way home from work, picking up everything I need.

  Milling around the aisles of the supermarket, I get stopped by two parents who want to have an impromptu conference in the coffee section, while all I want to do is get out of here. What made me think living in the same town I teach in was a good idea is beyond me.

  I haul ass to the checkout and somehow make it out without being stopped by another parent or a student for that matter. Loading my groceries into my car, I’m interrupted by my phone chiming multiple times in my purse. By the sixth one, I toss what remaining bags I have in the trunk and pull out my phone.

  Two are from Kelsey, who seems to be having a panic attack that I’ll forget to make the cupcakes and leave her with nothing to serve at the party. I send her a quick reply letting her know I’ve got it under control and hopefully she’s now breathing a sigh of relief, although I doubt it.

  Forgetting about the other messages, my phone chimes again and I laugh. Figuring it’s Kelsey, I glance at the screen and see a message that pisses me off. Already in a piss poor mood, I don’t feel like dealing with bullshit.

  Ryan: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

  Me: Are you shouting at me?

  Ryan: I’ve texted you five times. It pisses me off when you keep me waiting.

  Me: fuck off

  I’m not interested in battling with Ryan tonight whether it’s playful or not. What I really want I can’t ask him for because that would mean I’d have to tell him everything.

  Chapter Three

  Ryan

  The headlights flash across the porch as Erin pulls into her driveway. I’ve been waiting here for nearly thirty minutes now, getting increasingly annoyed at how long it’s taking her to get home. I’d expected her to be here waiting for me like she normally is, but she wasn’t. And even though I know she keeps a spare key under her mat, despite me telling her a millions times not to, this time I haven’t used it. I’m not sure why, but there was something about her last text message that has me wary.

  I watch as she gets out of the car, not looking at me as she walks around to the trunk and pulls out a couple of grocery bags. I stand, ready to help her, but she manages them, locking her car before she walks toward me. I smile, but she doesn’t even look at me, walking straight up the steps and past me to the door.

  “Hey,” I say as she jams her key into the front door, one of the bags slipping from her arms as she does.

  “Fuck,” she mutters as a bag of flour falls onto the porch.

  “Babe,” say, grabbing the bags from her hands. “Give me these.”

  Erin shoves a few of them into my hands, still not looking at me as she finally gets the front door open. I follow her in, wondering what the hell’s going on. When she reaches the kitchen, she dumps the bags on the counter before going to the fridge and grabbing herself a beer. She doesn’t get me one and she still hasn’t looked at me.

  “Erin,” I say, putting the bags I’m carrying down on the kitchen table. “What’s going on?” I ask as I step toward her and pull her into my arms.

  She stands rigid in my embrace, not moving and not saying anything as she all but mainlines the beer in her hands. I press a kiss to her hair, feel her stiffen before she pulls away and starts to unpack the groceries.

  “Erin,” I repeat, my
voice firm this time.

  I watch as she lets out a long breath before turning to face me. “What?” she says, finally meeting my eyes.

  To say she looks pissed off would be an understatement and I can’t for the life of me figure out what the hell is going on right now. “What’s wrong?” I ask, stepping closer. I cup her face in my hand and brush a thumb across her cheekbone.

  I watch as she closes her eyes briefly. “Nothing,” she says, opening them as she pulls away.

  “Bullshit,” I respond, grabbing her wrist. “Talk to me.”

  “Don’t, Ryan,” she says, pulling her arm from my grip. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Not in the mood for what?” I ask, stepping closer.

  “This,” she says, waving a hand around as she turns back and starts to unpack the groceries.

  I step closer, crowding her against the counter. “Babe,” I whisper, brushing my lips against the back of her neck. “Just stop for a second. Talk to me.” Erin stills, her back to me. I feel her take a deep breath, which she slowly lets out before she turns to face me. I press a quick kiss to her lips when she does, murmuring, “God I’ve missed you.”

  Erin slams her hands on my chest now. “Missed me?” she yells. “Or missed getting laid? God, Ryan,” she continues. “You’re so fucking predictable.”

  My hands encircle her wrists now, holding her against me. “What the fuck is going on here, Erin?” I say, not letting her go.

  “For the thousandth time, nothing,” she says.

  “Bull. Shit.” I reply, ducking my head so I can meet her eyes. “And just so you know, I have missed you. You, Erin. You.”

  She stares up me, swallowing hard. If I didn’t know better I’d say she was trying hard not to cry, and there’s something about her sudden vulnerability that throws me. I’ve never seen her like this. Gone is the feisty little minx that loves to push my buttons and in its place is a woman who looks exhausted, defeated, and maybe a little bit scared. It freaks me out, a ripple of fear washing through me.