Taking Control (Kerr Chronicles #2)(46)
Author: Jen Frederick

Taking a moment, I choose my words carefully. “Before you, I had nothing. Yes, I have a few friends. They’re great, but they don’t love me and I don’t love them. I’ve worked nearly every day with my right-hand man Louis for five years without realizing that he’s kind of a shitty human being. Worse, I was the same shitty human being. I cared about nothing but making money, and it didn’t bother me if I stepped on a few toes or hands or faces to get to the top. There’s no question that Richard Howe is a blight on humanity, but he’s meaningless now because you’re my future. Chasing down Howe doesn’t bring my mother back, nor does it bring yours back. All it can do is stifle what you and I could make together. Tiny, if I didn’t have any money, would you feel the same about me? Would you still love me?”

“Yes,” she responds without even taking a moment to think.

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Her shoulders relax as some of the tension she’s wound tight around her frame unspools. Taking a deep breath, I haul myself out of the seat and jog around to the passenger side so I can lift her out. “I thought we’d have lunch, but I’m going to need to make love to you first.”

Her response is to twine her arms and legs around me. “I’m down with that plan.”

Her stomach growls before I can take two steps toward the house.

“On second thought, how about we eat first?”

“Another good plan.” She slides down, brushing her unfettered br**sts against my chest. Groaning, I pull her in for a hot, hungry kiss—which is interrupted by another grumble.

“The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,” she says with chagrin.

“Let’s feed you, then. I think I can manage to keep my hands to myself for an hour.”

“I hope not.” She grins impishly and then swings around, purposely brushing her hip against my growing erection.

Awkwardly I maneuver toward the trunk. Inside is the picnic basket, and I unhook the blanket from the custom-made insert.

“So when did you buy the car?”

“I didn’t buy it. We’re test driving it.” I transfer the basket and blanket to one hand and grab her with my other. The walk down to the shore is about a couple hundred yards. It’s a beautiful June day with a light breeze blowing up from the sea.

“They let you test drive it?”

“Yes, for the weekend.”

“That seems weird…and trusting. What if you run off with it?”

“You don’t want to buy a car you haven’t driven before. Didn’t you test out your bike first?”

She shook her head. “No, I bought it used from another courier who was moving up. She bought a Vanmoof.” Her voice sounds wistful, and I hide a grin, thinking of the packages that are sitting in one of the empty garage bays.

The sand on the beach is fairly coarse, but it’s private. Tiny toes off her tennis shoes and wades into the water. “Oh shit,” she yelps and jumps back out. “It’s cold!”

I chuckle at her surprise. “I take it you never went swimming in the sound?”

“Usually Brighton Beach in Brooklyn, or sometimes we’d hit Jacob Riis Park.”

“Never been. Should we go together sometime?” I flick the blanket out and set the basket on one edge. Inside I find two plates, two glasses, and silverware along with salami, cheese, fruit, and antipasti.

With a nose wrinkle, she shakes her head. “No. Jacob Riis is pretty shabby, and Brighton’s crowded.”

“Then maybe we could go up to Vermont. Visit the ice cream factory,” I suggest. It was something Tiny and her mother had planned to do before Sophie had fallen ill.

Tiny gives me a forlorn smile. “Maybe. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

“Then come and eat and tell me where we should spend our summer. It can be anywhere.”

I spread a pretzel cracker with goat cheese and a dab of jam. She wolfs it down with one bite. “Mmm. Can we take this picnic basket with us, too?”

“Of course.” With a raised eyebrow, I fend off her attempts to wrestle the knife from me. “Not today, bunny. Today you eat from my hand.” I offer her another cracker. Her teeth are a shade sharper against my fingers than necessary, but I appreciate the pinch. Always challenging me in her own way. Once she asked me what I would do when the pursuit was over. My response was sincere at the time, but not entirely truthful. She will always confront me, fight me, and test me, therefore the chase is never-ending. Even in this she looks a bit mutinous, and every bite from my hand bears a risk of deeper teeth marks being left behind.

The sad truth is, I’d like to feed her from my hand at every meal. The idea of her sustenance being totally in my control is dizzyingly erotic. But Tiny’s far too independent to allow that to happen, so I’ll take what I can get—like this meal and maybe a little bedroom play tonight. The new bed frame is made of solid mahogany with soaring posts at the four corners.

I’ve had quite a few fantasies about her being tied to those posts, spread eagle and helpless underneath me.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks suspiciously after swallowing down an herbed mozzarella pearl.

“You, of course.” I palm my erection lightly. “He only gets up for you.”

Her lashes sweep downward for a moment and then she glances up—almost shyly. “Is that true?”

It’s a serious question, and one she’s embarrassed to ask if her pink cheeks are anything to go by. Tiny’s sudden bout of insecurity pains me because I know it has more to do with how unsure she feels about her place in my life than her own feelings of self-worth. I bring her hand to my mouth to press a kiss against the palm and then the wrist. “Don’t ever doubt it.”

Pensively, she bites her lip and looks out onto the sea. The water is nearly still, with only the slightest breeze to mar its glassy perfection. From here, the sound looks blue and beautiful, but the glee with which Tiny had greeted the sea has been swallowed by a thoughtful melancholy. “When it was just Mom and me, the fact that I couldn’t read was no big deal. I didn’t realize until she was gone how much I depended on her to do stuff for me—like look up an address on the internet or read the news to me in the morning as I was getting ready. She helped me set up my phone and filled out all the paperwork for our apartment.”

To make it seem like the feelings she was sharing were not of too much or too little importance, I cut salami, plate cheese, and pour wine. She eats and drinks absently. “I’m just wondering if I would have made it if you hadn’t come along.”