Page 28 of Forbidden Dreams
I walk down the steps and find him in the kitchen, the bottle of whiskey in front of him with an empty shot glass. His hand is outstretched at his side on top of the counter, his head hanging. “Hey,” I say, and he looks up, and I see his face looks like it’s being ravaged.
“He out?” he asks me as my feet move on their own toward him.
“Yeah,” I confirm, stopping beside him.
“I need to take pictures of your arm,” he states, his voice sounding like it’s going to crack, “for evidence.”
“Brady.” I put my hand on his arm, and he shakes his head so my hand falls away.
“He put his hands on you.” Every single word he says feels like he’s being tortured. “So hard I heard you cry out in pain from inside your house.” He turns to face me. “I ran there so fast, and when I saw him, I saw black.” I close my eyes, and my hands move to his face. “I should have?—”
“You should have done none of that,” I counter softly. “If you had, then he would win.” I look into his eyes. “I’m tired of him winning, Brady.” I step even closer to him. “I’m tired of him winning.”
“He’s not going to win this time.” His gruff voice sends shivers down my spine.
“When I saw you, I knew I would be okay,” I admit to him. “I knew that you would take care of me.” I swallow down the lump. “I…” I trail off. “I…” I get on my tippy-toes. “I feel safe with you,” I say right before my lips find his.
CHAPTER 17
Brady
She steps toward me, and my body suddenly becomes alive. “When I saw you, I knew I would be okay.” I can see her eyes in the dimmed room; the light over the stove is the only light on. “I knew that you would take care of me.” She swallows, and I see her hands shaking as she takes a step toward me. “I…” She trails off. “I…” I close my eyes for a second to push down the rage I feel thinking about the scene I walked into. Seeing his hands on her, hearing her cry out in pain and fear. It’s a sound I don’t think I’ll ever forget in my whole life. It’s a sound even five shots of whiskey couldn’t cancel out. “I feel safe with you.” It’s the last thing she says, and her mouth comes to mine. Finally, is all I can think when I wrap my arms around her as her mouth opens for my tongue.
Pulling her flush to me, I relax with her in my arms. The kiss starts out slow, each of us taking our time. I waited too long for this kiss. My hand moves up her side to her hair. I bury it in it, and as soon as I fist her hair, she groans into my mouth, pushing her tits into my chest. The kiss that started out slow is now going into overdrive. Our tongues fight with each other. One of her hands on my chest grips my T-shirt in her palm while the other moves up to go into my hair. I wrap my arm around her waist, picking her up, and place her ass on the counter. Her legs open for me to stand between them.
“Harmony,” I whisper when our lips finally separate, but it’s for a split second. Her hands grip my T-shirt, pulling me back to her. “Fuck,” I swear before I turn my head to the side and kiss her. I could spend the night just kissing her, and I’d be okay. My cock is hard and wants to sink into her so badly. I let go of her lips to trail kisses down her neck, sucking in. Her hands grip my sides as I slide my tongue back up her neck to her jaw. As I devour her mouth, she wraps her legs around my hips, pulling me closer to her. If she were naked, I’d slide into her and it would be heaven. The thought alone makes me want to lay her on the counter and feast on her.
“If we don’t stop this,” I finally say, “it’s going to go somewhere I don’t think you’re ready for.” My eyes stare into hers as her chest rises and falls. The kiss has made her breathless. “We’re especially not going to be doing this on my counter for the first time.” I see her eyes go big, and her cheeks get a touch pinker. She looks down shyly, and I put my hand under her chin, raising it up for her to look at me.
“Brady,” she says, “it’s been a while.”
“Yeah, baby?” I don’t know why this pleases me, but it does.
“And he was my first.” Her grip on my T-shirt tightens. “And, well, it wasn’t often.”
“We’ll go slow, baby,” I assure her, “but make no mistake about it”—my head bends to kiss her lips—“I’m getting in there.”
“Mom!” We both hear Wyatt screaming her name at the same time. My body goes still as I rush away from her and run up the stairs toward him, taking the stairs three at a time. “Mom,” he calls again, and when I walk into the room, I see him in the middle of the bed with tears running down his face. He takes one look at me and asks me, “Mom?”
“I’m right here,” Harmony confirms from behind me, walking around me to go to him. I watch her get on the bed with him and take him in her arms as he sobs, gripping the back of her shirt. “I’m right here.” She puts her cheek on the top of his head as she rubs his back.
“I’ll get him some water,” I offer. When she looks at me, her own tears run down her face. She doesn’t answer me. All she does is nod.
I walk back down to the kitchen and grab two bottles of water before making my way back upstairs. “Are we staying here now?” he asks her, and I can hear the fear in his voice. Again, for the second time tonight, I have to lock down the need to go and find Winston Cartwright and beat the ever-loving shit out of him. My head hangs for a second when I hear him ask in the softest voice I’ve ever heard, “Is he going to get you?”
I walk into the room. “No.” I don’t know why I answer him instead of letting Harmony answer. “He’s not going to get her, and he’s not going to get you.” I hand him a water bottle, and he reaches out for it but puts it beside him. “He won’t bother you guys here.” He stares at me. “I promise you, Wyatt, he will not get close to you guys.” I made him a promise, wondering how many broken promises were made to him by his father.
“Okay.” He nods at me and then falls back with his head on the pillow.
“I’m going to wait until he falls asleep again,” Harmony whispers to me, and I just nod, walking out of the room and heading back down to the kitchen.
I’m putting the whiskey back into the cabinet on top of the fridge when I hear her soft footsteps coming into the kitchen.
“Is he down?” I ask, and she nods.
“For now, at least.” She stands in the middle of the kitchen. “It’s never been this bad,” she says. “Like, we’ve argued for sure, and as much as I tried to keep my voice down, Winston didn’t care. I tried to shield him.”
“You’ll have to stop talking,” I tell her, my teeth clenched.