Wrong to Need You Page 10

  He braced his arm on the wall, the water beating down on his back and ass. His front wasn’t cold. Not with his palm stroking his cock.

  In his imagination, the door opened to an audience of one. She wouldn’t watch. She’d slip inside and under his guard. Her nails would scrape over his clenching stomach, and she’d take over for him.

  His fingers curled against the tile, but in his mind they were tunneling through her thick, dark hair. He’d drag her close and capture her lips and taste the chocolate mint on her tongue while she jacked him off.

  Oh fuck. He squeezed his eyes tight. Chocolate mint.

  His anonymous fantasy woman morphed, and her features became far too clear. He fucked his fist, the water starting to run cold, but he couldn’t care. Not when a naked Sadia was standing in front of him.

  In his dreams.

  He’d tighten his grip on her hair and she’d respond, falling to her knees. He groaned, imagining the tongue that had been in his mouth rubbing against his cock, fingers that had been on his arms playing with his balls.

  He widened his stance, his hips moving like he was fucking Sadia’s warm, wet, willing mouth instead of his own rough hand. A few hard strokes and he came with a groan, the water washing away the evidence of his perversion. He rested his forehead against the tile and breathed deep.

  It was nothing. They would forget about it. He didn’t still love her.

  His heart thundered in his ears.

  Beat. Don’t feel. Please don’t feel.

  Chapter 8

  He was in her head.

  Half-asleep, Sadia rolled over onto her back, shoving aside the blanket, making it easier for him to touch her. He was crude and hurried, pushing her nightshirt up so he could get to her breasts. It was fine, she didn’t need romance and hearts, not now.

  She needed to be fucked. With fingers or a tongue or a cock or a dildo. She wasn’t picky.

  He sucked her nipples, teeth nipping her hard enough for a ripple of electricity to shoot through her body. The man’s perfect hands slipped over the curve of her belly. He squeezed the roundness there, the result of pregnancy and genetics, a layer of padding unresponsive to crunches, before dipping lower.

  She hadn’t shaved or trimmed in a while, but he didn’t seem to mind the hair, his fingers combing through it like she’d given him a treasure. His thumb dipped between her pussy lips, glancing over her hard clit, coming back to rub it when she gasped. He kept up that slow, circular motion that tightened the knot inside her belly while he moved down her body. Two fingers spread her lips wide and he licked her like she was a sweet treat. She squirmed, her entire body tightening.

  He was so beautiful, big and muscular, muscles packed upon muscles. He sucked her clit in and his thick finger worked its way deeper inside her vagina, fucking her.

  Oh fuck.

  She sat up and fumbled to open her nightstand drawer, digging under various items she used for camouflage before finding her favorite vibrator.

  She didn’t need the frills today. She half-reclined on her pillows and spread her legs wide, rubbing the tip of the pink plastic against her wetness.

  She turned the vibrator on, shuddering when she placed it on her clit and rotated it in a small, tight circle. This was enough. She didn’t need to fuck herself with it to get off. In her head it was Jackson’s cock, thick and engorged with blood.

  She came silently, her teeth grinding into her lower lip as her body convulsed.

  Her eyes popped open and she breathed deeply, resting the vibrator against her belly. She shut the thing off.

  Holy shit. Bad enough to kiss her former brother-in-law. Now she was fantasizing about having orgasms with him?

  She whimpered and screwed her eyes shut. What was wrong with her?

  Should have stayed enraged at him. See where talking gets you?

  It had been exactly one week since the two of them had locked lips, and she was no closer to forgetting about it, though they’d spent the last seven days ignoring each other as much as humanly possible for two people who both lived and worked together. Sadia spent her days in the café locked up in the office or busying herself outside the kitchen. Jackson, for his part, left the house super early in the morning and returned late at night.

  It didn’t matter if she saw him or not, though. He was on her mind no matter what, even when she tried to schedule him out of it. The number of times she’d guiltily switched browsers away from work and typed the name of his pop-up into a search bar—well, she wasn’t about to show him her search history, because it was absurd.

  As was the fact that she had a world-renowned name cooking in a little café. There had been more than a few articles speculating about the anonymous chef’s identity, but she was privileged enough to know that the man behind the restaurant specializing in comfort food from all over the world was her own Jackson. Foodies lined up for blocks when he came to their city.

  She shook her head, wishing Jackson hadn’t told her about his hugely prosperous, if secretive career. His success was intimidating as hell, and that was without factoring in their kiss.

  That kiss. She’d tried every excuse and justification possible. A moment of temporary insanity, brought upon by the stress of the day and week and month and year? The struggle of holding it all together and pretending everything was fine? The seething resentment and frustration over her role in her family?

  You were starved for sex, is all.

  She wished she could grasp onto that last excuse, but she couldn’t. Sex wasn’t difficult for her to find when she went looking for it. In the right place, like the bar. Not in her home.

  She grabbed her phone and checked the time, groaning when she realized she was five minutes past when she had to be up. It was Sunday, and Jackson had conveyed through Darrell that she didn’t have to come in. That was good, because Kareem had an enrichment class, soccer, and a piano lesson today, which meant she was scheduled from minute to minute.

  She rolled out of bed. No more. She honestly did not have space in her life to lust after Jackson of all people.

  She got cleaned up, keeping herself focused on the task at hand. She paused once she was dressed and picked up the box with hers and Paul’s rings in it. “I kissed your brother,” she blurted out. Immediate relief ran through her at the confession.

  She definitely didn’t feel like she’d cheated Paul’s memory, and Paul and Jackson being brothers wasn’t some huge taboo, but all these intertwining relationships were contributing to how conflicted she felt. “I haven’t felt weird about kissing anyone else since you died, but none of them . . .” None of them had made her feel anything.

  She traced his face. “It wasn’t because he reminded me of you, or anything like that. You guys were always so different. Maybe I just missed him a lot? I don’t know. Anyway, in summation, I’m doing my best, but I also don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

  Sadia, babe. It was only a kiss. Everyone kisses. Relax a little.

  Her lips wobbled into a smile, Paul’s voice so clear in her imagination he might have been standing next to her.

  That was right. It had only been a kiss. She would invite Jackson over for dinner tonight. He was her temporary employee and tentatively reunited friend. When she saw him, she was going to be cool and calm and pretend like nothing had happened.

  Sadia prodded her son awake and made him a quick breakfast, then called the café. Kimmie, Darrell’s sister, picked up the phone. “Kane’s Café.”

  “Hey Kimmie, it’s Sadia. How’s everything going?”

  “Great, no problems.” Her voice was enthusiastic. Sadia could hear the crowd in the background.

  “It sounds busy.”

  “Nothing we can’t cope with. Jay’s trying some new acai bowls and they’re a hit.”

  She frowned. She hadn’t known Jackson was introducing items off-menu. Not that it mattered, if they were making money.

  As she said her goodbyes and hung up, Kareem looked up at her from the bre
akfast table. “Can I see if Uncle Jackson wants to play today?”

  Sadia took a sip of coffee to hide her reaction. Kareem had asked the same question more than once over the past week. She understood it was the novelty about his mysterious relative that had Kareem so desperate to meet him, but she couldn’t stop softening over how damn cute it was that he was so eager to get to know his uncle. She also didn’t know how to tell him he couldn’t see his uncle because mommy was freaking out that she’d kissed the man.

  But no more. “Tonight, perhaps.”

  Kareem looked disappointed but then he brightened. “Can we go see the grandmas?”

  The grandmas were what he called Tani and Maile. Sadia gave a strained smile. With Jackson working at the café, she’d managed to cut down on needing too much extra childcare this past week, which was a blessing. There was no doubt Kareem would happily tell her sisters or his grandparents about his newfound mysterious uncle.

  She didn’t want to deal with her sisters or parents pestering her with questions or her in-law’s drama, and if that made her a jerk, so be it. She couldn’t be a saint all the time. “Maybe tomorrow,” she hedged. “Come on now, finish up your breakfast. We have a big day. I have to stop and get snacks for your team before the game.”

  “If you don’t, Mrs. R will get mad. She’s kind of a turd.”

  She closed her eyes and counted to ten. “Where did you hear that word, Kareem?”

  “Is it a swear?”

  “It’s an impolite word.”

  “Aunt Liv—”

  “New rule, okay? We don’t repeat any words Aunt Livvy says or call anyone by those words.”

  Kareem pursed his rosebud lips. “None of ’em?”

  “Not one.”

  “What if she says . . . butt?”

  Sadia raised her eyebrow, struggling to keep a straight face when Kareem dissolved into giggles. Ah, yes. This was the only Kane she wanted to think about today.

  “Oh my god, is it true Livvy and Nicholas eloped in Vegas and are in talks for their own reality show?”

  Sadia stared blankly at the other soccer mom and then held out the box she carried. “I brought chips.”

  The well-dressed brunette accepted the chips without inspecting them, which was a sure sign that she was distracted by gossip. “You can tell me,” she said. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  “I have no idea where Livvy and Nicholas are,” she responded, wishing she didn’t sound so rehearsed. More than free childcare. Livvy owes me like a million tattoos, if I ever get over my fear of needles.

  Rachel looked far from convinced, but she brightened. “Well, I also heard Livvy’s brother is back in town. Is he as cute as he used to be?”

  Dismay ran through Sadia. “I don’t know.” Damn it. Seemed threatening Harriet had only pushed off the inevitable gossip.

  “Sure you do. He’s working for you.”

  “I don’t talk about family, Rachel.”

  Rachel looked taken aback for a minute, then annoyed. She glanced at the chips. “I see you got the regular chips. The kids like assorted, for future reference.”

  For future reference, you are kinda turd-like.

  Sadia moved away and pulled out her phone. No one from the café had called her. She hesitated for a second, then opened her messages up.

  How’s everything going?

  Jackson’s reply was instantaneous, like he’d been waiting for her. Fine. Don’t worry.

  She chewed her lip. She should be more worried than she was. Jackson being at the café was more of a relief that she didn’t have to be there than anything else. She paused for a second, then typed out her request.

  Do you want to come over for dinner?

  She hit Send, then glanced around, worried someone might know she was texting with the man she’d had a wet dream about, but no soccer mom was nearby to shame her, not even turd-like Rachel.

  His response was just as fast as the last one. Yes.

  Okay then. She nodded, trying to ignore the jump in her belly. She was excited to get back to their tentative truce after a week-long stalemate, was all.

  She tapped her fingers on the back of her phone, then quickly wrote another message. FYI, it seems like a few people know you’re here, working for me. Maybe you should let your mom or Maile know before they hear about it from someone else?

  This was not her courting drama, but trying to head it off. Eventually, Maile or Tani would find out, and then she’d have to hear about it.

  Her phone buzzed. Thanks for telling me.

  She waited, but that was it. Sadia suppressed her frown and looked up at her son’s voice. Whatever. She had enough on her plate without Kane family dynamics.

  She tried to concentrate on the game. It was itty-bitty soccer, so it wasn’t exactly high stakes. Sadia was dedicated to making sure her son had as many opportunities as she’d had. Kareem should get the chance to discover what he loved and was good at.

  Her mood lifted automatically as she watched the adorable five- and six-year-olds tumble around a grassy field. She cheered when Kareem managed to get a hold of the ball. “Good job, baby! No . . . Kareem, hug your friend when the game is over!”

  She smiled when her son released his friend and gave her a thumbs-up. Her gaze drifted past the field, to the parking lot.

  It took her a second to place the man sitting in a wheelchair at the edge of the lot, under the shade of a tree, but when she did, unease crept through her. Her smile faded.

  Sadia didn’t hate John Chandler the way her late husband had. Paul hadn’t been able to stand the name or sight of anyone Chandler. While she appreciated that he’d lost way more than she could comprehend after Robert Kane and Maria Chandler had died, she’d also hated how it had shaped so much of Paul’s life.

  One of the reasons she hadn’t taken her husband’s name was because privately, she hadn’t wanted to get swept up in the whole Kane/Chandler feud. Not that it had helped much. She’d felt like a traitor the first time she’d set foot in a Chandler’s store after Paul had died, but she’d gotten over it, telling herself she wasn’t about to feed her son anything but the best.

  It was a punch to the gut to see John sitting in what she considered her domain, though, and by extension, Kane domain. Livvy and John had reconciled before her best friend had run off with the man’s grandson, but why on earth was he here? Did he know another child in the itty-bitty soccer league? Because it wasn’t like anyone would come be a spectator to a bunch of young children staring at the sky and bumping into one another and occasionally kicking a ball.

  Unless . . . he was here to see Kareem?

  Her maternal instincts bristled and she didn’t even realize she was walking toward him until the distance between them dramatically shortened. When she was within a few feet, he took his attention off the children to calmly watch her approach, looking for all the world like he’d expected her. “Hello there, Sadia.”

  She stopped a foot away from him and linked her hands in front of her. “Mr. Chandler.”

  He was dressed casually, in jeans and a plaid shirt. John had never carried himself like the wealthy man he was. He smiled faintly. “You used to call me Grandpa John.”

  She had. The Kanes had treated the Chandler home as their own and this man as their grandfather, and she’d been part of the family from the time she was ten. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

  “It has been a while.” John looked out at the field. “Your son is growing fast.”

  Jackson had said something similar, but the difference between the two men was that Sadia had sent Jackson photos of Kareem. She hadn’t sent John photos, and she was sure Paul hadn’t. “Have you seen him before today?” The question was sharp, and she couldn’t help it. She didn’t like the thought of anyone viewing her son when she was unaware.

  “I have,” he said, surprising her with his honesty. “Not recently, though. I don’t leave my home as much these days. I was curious.”

  “I don’t
really care if you were curious,” Sadia returned politely. “If I see you lurking about my son again without my knowledge, I’ll murder you.”

  He looked startled, and then he let out a sharp crack of laughter. “My god. No wonder Paul adored you so.”

  Her hands tightened around each other. She could still feel the imprint of Paul’s lips on her forehead the night before he’d died, after he’d asked for a divorce. They may not have been in love, but Paul had definitely loved her, even at the end, just as she’d loved him.

  John sobered, picking up on her mood. “I’m sorry about Paul. I want you to know that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And I’m sorry I’ve been lurking, as you’ve said. I only wanted to learn as much about Paul’s son as I could.” He looked up at her, and she would have had to be a monster not to immediately soften at the sadness in his gaze. “He’s the closest to a great-grandchild I’ll probably ever know, Sadia. That was all.”

  She nodded slowly. Family. “I can understand that.”

  “I won’t do it again. And frankly, I’m only here today because I wanted to speak to you.”

  “To me?”

  “Have you heard anything from Nicholas and Livvy?”

  She relaxed completely. Ah. This made perfect sense. “I have not. I understand they’ll be back when they’re ready to be back. Livvy’s been checking in with her aunt and mother over the past couple of weeks, though.”

  John looked disappointed. “Nicholas is doing the same with his sister. I think he’s trying to teach me and his father a lesson by not contacting us but . . . anyway, that’s not important. I am thrilled the two of them are trying to work things out, of course.”

  She hummed an agreement. Yes, she was thrilled too. Still feeling a little abandoned, but happy. “If that’s all you wanted to ask me . . . ?” She was poised to go back to her son and away from this vague feeling of betraying her family.

  “Actually, there is one more thing. I heard a rumor.”

  Oh bollocks. She stayed, resigned.