Part 9 (1/2)
Chapter Seventeen.
a-aa- It takes me less than two seconds to throw on the brakes and ease the Denali to the side of the road. The farm is visible up ahead, but clearly this cannot wait.
”Arion! What the h.e.l.l are you doing?” Angel peers at me in the darkness, her eyes wide and reflective as I throw the gears.h.i.+ft in park and climb out of the truck. My stride is determined as I march around and throw open the pa.s.senger door.
”What the f.u.c.k!” Her eyes are flas.h.i.+ng. My Angel is awake and paying attention now. Good. I take just enough time to skim her face with my gaze to make sure she's not afraid of my erratic behavior, and when satisfied, I unsnap her seatbelt.
”Out,” I bark, sharper than I mean to be.
She doesn't move until I narrow my eyes and she realizes I'm completely serious. I cup her elbow, making sure she doesn't lose her balance as she hops to the ground. ”If you think you're going to leave me by the side of the roada”
I silence her protest by pressing my lips to hers. Just about every time I touch or kiss this woman, there's a part of me that holds back, afraid to scare her with the intensity of my need for her, but not this time. My tongue furiously probes her mouth until her lips are swollen and heated against mine. Pinned between my unyielding body and the metal side of the truck, Angel writhes in my arms. ”Arion,” she breathes against my lips when I finally let her catch a breath. ”What are you doing to me?”
”Making it abundantly clear that you and I are the real deal. I may not know what color the paint was in your bedroom when you were a kid, and I may not know how old you were when you learned to tie your shoes, or when you had your first kiss, but I know that I'll be your last. I know that whatever color you paint your next bedroom, and the one after that, and the one after that, they will be the walls I sleep between every night. And I know that when you're old and can't tie your own shoes, I'll kneel down and help you, even if it takes me five minutes to get my old and decrepit body back up off the floor. Because you and I, Angel, we're forever. And I want to make d.a.m.ned sure you know it.”
Her body melts against mine as she loops her arms around my neck, clinging to me. ”How am I supposed to think clearly when you say things like that?” she whispers.
”Who said I want you thinking? Baby, I love nothing more than driving you out of your ever-loving mind.” I s.h.i.+ft my hands to grab her a.s.s, hoisting her up until she's braced against the side of the truck. Her legs wrap around my waist and lock together behind me.
Supporting her with just one hand, I lightly roll my thumb over her nipple, and her head dips back against the truck. She shudders, then lifts her head to beg me with her eyes. I'm just not sure whether she's asking for me to stop or keep going.
She's got on a skirt that's easy to push up and out of my way, and her underwear offers little resistance. Angel gasps as the fabric rends with an audible rip. ”Tell me you don't want me to do this.” I plunge a finger into her warmth, and she instantly rewards me with a moan.
”What if someone sees?” she squeals between erratic breaths.
”Then they'll know you're taken,” I growl as my finger goes slick with her need.
”We can't!” Her legs squeeze tightly around me as she pants beneath my fingers.
”We are, baby.” I remove my hand, unzip my pants, and press my eager c.o.c.k against her entrance. ”Tell me you want this, Angel.”
She buries her head against my shoulder, but I feel her nod.
”Words, baby.”
Her hips grind against me, searching, desperate for me to fill her.
”You've got to tell me what you want.” I'm an evil b.a.s.t.a.r.d and I know it. But I also have to be one hundred percent sure I'm not pus.h.i.+ng her too far.
”Please,” she begs, and I can't deny her any longer. ”Ahh!” she cries out as I sheath my entire length inside her. The intense pleasure of her tight walls pulsing around me makes my knees tremble as I thrust in and out with long, desperate strokes. It doesn't take long for her release to quake around me, and I answer her with my own. I grab a handful of napkins out of the glove box and clean us up the best I can, then just hold her in my arms on the side of the road.
A car flies past us, tossing gravel in its wake, but they don't even give us a second glance. Once they're gone, Angel gives me a withering look. ”Glad they didn't come by a few minutes ago.”
I shrug, but secretly I agree. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I feel her sigh.
”Trust in me, Angel. Trust in us. I won't lead you wrong.”
I feel her nod, but worry is still nagging me. If she thinks I'm moving too fast, should I call off the plans to propose, and give her more time? I don't want to push her, but I also don't want to wait another moment to begin the rest of our lives. She said she was ready, but did she mean it? Suddenly I'm not so sure.
”Babe, my parents didn't work because neither of them were willing to fight for it. That, and I don't really think they were compatible. I was young at the time, but I remember them arguing a lot. I'm not sure if they even liked each other. You've never seen two people so wrong for each other: Dad was all business and logic, Mom was whimsy and imagination. Oil and water. You get the idea. You and me? We're milk and cookies. We just go together.”
Angel laughs as she opens the pa.s.senger door of my truck so she can climb in. ”Chocolate chip?”
”Pfft. Peanut b.u.t.ter. Ready to go do the paperwork with my dad?”
We get back in the truck and quickly cover the remaining distance to the large farmhouse I was raised in. I expect to find my father in his study, not in the kitchen, and I sure as h.e.l.l don't expect to find my mother with him, happily doing dishes while Dad sits at the table finis.h.i.+ng off his lunch.
Neither one of them have the d.a.m.n courtesy to look the least bit ashamed.
I'm f.u.c.king speechless. Even Angel seems a bit tongue-tied, though she does manage to choke out, ”h.e.l.lo, Mr. Chadwell. And, um, Mrs. Chadwell.”
”Tucker, please, Tess,” my father reminds her at the exact moment my mother says, ”Call me Joyce, dear. How are you feeling today?” Then, realizing they spoke in tandem, they look at each other and laugh.
I've entered the f.u.c.king twilight zone. I briefly wonder if we came as close to catching them doing something as the car on the road came to catching me and Angel. Then, when I realize what I'm thinking, I want to punch myself. No. Just no.
”Dad? Where's Vanessa?” Never thought I'd care to know the answer to that question.
Dad wipes his mouth with a paper towel, then places it neatly beside his plate as if he's not in any hurry and doesn't have a care in the world. I stop myself from growling at him in frustration, just barely. ”The Four Seasons, I imagine.”
”Huh?”
”She's unhappy with your mother's re-entry into our lives, and she's decided to go to a hotel while she evaluates what role she'd like to take going forward.”
What the f.u.c.k, Dad? Does he realize his marriage isn't a merger? Not that I can say I'd be sad to see Vanessa go, but what would that do to Chelsea? I lift my eyes to my mother, who is was.h.i.+ng dishes like this conversation isn't even happening. ”Well, you know, I can't imagine why she'd not like your ex-wife standing in her kitchen like she still lives here.”
”Don't use that tone with me, young man.” Dad pulls off his gla.s.ses, his version of rolling up his sleeves, preparing to duke it out.
Wait just a d.a.m.n minute. ”Mom. Are you living here?” I think my brain is about to explode. I feel Angel's hand on the back of my shoulder, offering silent rea.s.surance.
Mom turns and grabs a dish towel. ”No, Axel. I'm staying with the Ferrons down the road. But I have been over here some, discussing things with your father.”
Some. Right. ”And just what do you two have to discuss?”
”Axel.” She gives me an exasperated look I haven't seen since I was a child. ”We do have two children together.”
Nice of her to remember that. ”Ever heard of phones?” Dammit. I'd been coming around to trying to work on things with Mom, but seeing her in our kitchen, where she should have been all these years, is throwing me. I feel my walls going up.
”Axel! Enough.” Dad's gaze is hard, and I know I'm on thin ice. ”Apologize to your mother.”
”Sorry,” I mumble. Why does he think he can talk to me like I'm five? And why the h.e.l.l am I listening?
”Why don't we sit?” Angel nudges me toward two open seats at the table. Numbly, I let her lead me over, taking the seat farthest from Dad, near the wall. Angel sits next to me, keeping her hand on my leg, a constant reminder that she's right here. I don't have to face my parents alone.