Cocky Cowboy: A Second Chance Romance (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 3) Page 11

  And to hear he wants me as much as I want him, that these last, chaste days haven’t been easy for him either is the kind of validation I need to hear. I’ve been longing for his touch.

  Like he’s speaking from within my own heart he rasps, “It’s been fucking torture for me being this close to you and not touching you.”

  Riddled with insecurity, I murmur, “You haven’t shown it…”

  He takes my chin in hand like he likes to do. I have to admit I love being held here. His forcing me to look at him means I don’t have to find a reason to look away.

  Jaxson crushes me in one of those hot kisses that have haunted me ever since I tasted them. I melt into his body and respond with equal abandon as he tightens his arms around me. Tracing his lips down my neck he thickly rasps, “Let me inside.”

  My voice is no more than a whisper. “I’m scared of how I feel about you.”

  “I know. This is the first time in my life that I’ve felt this out of control,” he groans, lifting me up and devouring me with kisses that don’t stop all the way up the stairs.

  Setting me down in his bedroom with such care as though I might break, Jaxson begins to undress me until I’m completely bared to him. As each strip of clothing falls away his breathing grows shorter with need, but his fingers never rush.

  He strips his t-shirt off from the back forward, mussing his hair. I lay my hands on his naked chest as he slides his jeans’ zipper down and kicks them off. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Some might say I’m glowing,” I mutter, attempting a joke and knowing the timing is awful.

  His green eyes narrow, but he shakes his head and takes my chin again. “Some would swear it.”

  I moan as he pulls our naked bodies together, his erection pressed against me. The closeness this shared time has given us has only heightened my desire for him.

  I’m aching for everything he is.

  Jaxson makes love to me in a whole new way than that first night when everything felt naughty, a little dirty and almost wrong.

  Everything tonight builds slowly.

  His hands run the course of my body like he’s got nowhere else to be for about fifty years.

  His grip is strong, protective and like I belong to him.

  His kisses are deep, molding my lips as though he’s claiming me.

  We move together like we were made to be here and I feel emotions welling in my chest.

  The kisses are languid yet passionate, like molasses coming to a slow boil.

  When the pleasure builds to its height in both of our bodies, his thickened cock continues to fills me with slow moving, sure strokes until I am arching my breasts into his chest and whimpering his name.

  We climax together, moaning and biting each other’s lips.

  When he pulls back and I see there are tears in Jaxson’s eyes, mine go liquid, too.

  Afterward we remain entwined and confused and at peace.

  He buries his face in my hair. Throbbing inside me in the aftermath. Gripping me to him.

  It’s the most emotional sex I’ve ever known and as he gazes at me, I know it’s the same for him.

  Crushed in a delirious vice of muscles and tangled emotion, I silently send a prayer up to God if he’s listening, Please, if you’re up there, please let Jaxson be my child’s father.

  I know what I’ve been fighting so hard to deny ever since he teased my nine-year-old self, “That’s because you’re in love with me!”

  Even though I threw every objection I could think of at him, “As if! You only wish! Ha! Keep dreaming!”

  …He was right.

  I am deeply in love with him.

  Jaxson

  This was the first morning I didn’t hear Hank’s crow in the years I’ve had him.

  From a deep dream where Rachel and I are alone on a beach with soothing, pale blue waves, a knock on the front door rouses me at the late hour of nine o’clock.

  She murmurs, “Did you hear that,” peaceful blue eyes cracking open.

  We were sleeping in each other’s arms, faces so close you’d think we wouldn’t be able to breathe enough oxygen. Yet I was comfortable.

  I rise onto my elbows and listen. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure if I did, but since you–” Another, louder knock interrupts me. Throwing off the blankets I pull on my jeans. “Stay here.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispers, sitting up with a start. “What if it’s him?”

  “Just wait here,” I order her again as another knock sounds. No one shows up here without giving word or receiving invitation.

  I know it’s not that Mr. Jarvis – he’s too polite a personality to pull something like waking a man on a Sunday in his own home.

  Sniffing the air for a potential brush fire I exhale, satisfied my land is safe.

  Reason implies it can only be one person. And his timing is for shit. I stroll down the stairs readying myself for a battle. If this guy thinks he’s going to take her from me today he’s fucking wrong.

  Swinging open the door, I blink at a face I haven’t seen in two decades, but who looks so alike the one I just left it’s jarring. “Mrs. Sawyer…”

  “Is my daughter here?” Ellen Sawyer demands, rising on her toes to look past me.

  The sound of quick padding down the staircase turns me around. Rachel is smoothing her hair, back in the clothes I peeled off her last night. “Mom!”

  I step back to allow our unhappy guest entry, and receive a scathing look from blue eyes very much like her daughter’s, only older. “I hoped he was wrong.”

  “Mom, what are you doing here?” Rachel whispers.

  “What are you doing here!!??” Pale hands fly up and cover Ellen’s face as she careens away like we’re poisonous.

  Her eyes make a quick inspection of my clean kitchen.

  Pacing briskly to do the same of the living room side of my home’s open floor plan, she shoots me a look, one that prepares me for another outburst, probably worse than the last.

  I have no idea why she’s looking at my home like it’s a piece of shit. No money was spared here. The windows are double paned. The furniture was personally designed for me to my specifications, save for a few pieces I found in antique stores. Even the fucking pots hanging over my stove are the best available. The Cocker family comes from old money. I’m no slouch. And while I live rurally I enjoy quality as much as the next man. Any woman with her upbringing would be able to see the value of my house and everything in it.

  It’s me she disapproves of.

  And only me.

  To her everything here is just a symbol of me.

  “Can I talk to my daughter alone, please?”

  Rachel crosses to stand at my side. I glance down to find her calm and in control of herself. She takes my hand and squeezes it. Ellen’s blue eyes drop and widen as if Rachel touched a scorpion. What the fuck is this woman’s problem?

  “I’m not a child, Mom. I don’t need to be chastised or scolded. Jaxson has been very good to me. And this is his home so I won’t ask him to leave so you can—”

  But she doesn’t get a chance to finish. “—You’re pregnant! That’s what he told me. Is it true?”

  Rachel’s mouth parts in surprise. “Ryan told you?”

  “He told me, yes, he told me! And when I demanded to know why he didn’t know where you were, and why was he calling me, he coldly informed me you don’t know who the father is!!! And that I might look for you ‘at that loser’s house.’”

  I grip Rachel’s hand harder as she begins to melt.

  “Mom…”

  “You told me you didn’t sleep with him!” She points at me, eyes wild with fury. “You lied to me!”

  Rachel’s eyelashes flutter to me.

  My eyes tell her I don’t fucking care if she had to lie about that first night to protect herself from this she-bitch. Like I give a shit what she told her mother. This woman isn’t important to me. Her daughter is, and only her.

  Rachel blinks away from me to
say, “I’m sorry, Mom, but you were so upset, I didn’t feel I could confide in you.”

  Huffing, Ellen rakes her hands through her dyed-brown hair. As her arms fly up pieces stick out all over her head. “This can’t be happening. It’s payment for what I’ve done. I thought I paid enough!” Mumbling almost inaudibly and rubbing her face, she repeats, “I thought I paid.”

  Rachel tugs her hand from mine and goes to console her. “Mother, stop it. Why are you this upset? Is this because of…?” She quiets, not wanting to say something aloud in front of me.

  Now I’m curious. What has made this woman so upset with me?

  Ellen fearfully whispers, “Because of what, Rachel?”

  “Mom you don’t even like Ryan, but you’re acting like I cheated on my husband of twenty years! And that morning I came back to your house it seemed like maybe you were acting out of your own guilt there, too. You were taking it so personally.” Her voice grows more gentle as she asks, “Mom, did you cheat on Dad? Or is this over Tanya and…oh, I don’t know! I just can’t understand why you’re this upset.”

  “Oh Rachel,” Ellen whispers, face crumbling.

  “You don’t have to tell me, but Jaxson and I are not the same thing. Ryan and I were unhappy for a long time. We’re not married. He doesn’t want to be married.”

  Ellen’s eyes are stricken. Nothing Rachel’s said has abated her concern.

  Does she really hate me this much?

  Choked with emotion, she rocks the room to dust. “My affair was with Michael Cocker, Rachel.”

  Icy nails slice into my spine. My dad?

  No.

  No way.

  No fucking way in hell did Dad cheat on my mom.

  Ellen’s eyes lock on me, his eldest son. “Michael Cocker and I were in love. For years.”

  “No,” I growl, stepping forward. “He never cheated on my mother. No!”

  But even as I say it the conversation with my mom replays in my mind with a whole new understanding.

  “They lived two doors down from us when I was in grade school. You had them over for dinner sometimes.”

  “You mean John and Ellen? …Ellen and I were acquaintances. She fought me at every turn at the Atlanta Woman’s Club.”

  Fighting it, I growl. “It’s not possible.”

  “It’s the reason we moved away,” Mrs. Sawyer moans. “I told John, and we wanted to try and make it work. I couldn’t do that with Michael two doors away.”

  “…but then their family moved to New York out of the blue. John got a job or something…”

  “None of you were ever meant to know.”

  With tight fists I cross to the window, seeing my father in bed with this woman. I can barely speak, but I have to. “Does my mother know?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Turning on her, I shout, “Why the fuck are you telling me this now?!”

  She collapses to the floor, weeping. I go to help her up and Rachel rushes to do the same. Her body is trembling as she stares up at the two of us, looming above her. “You don’t understand,” she whispers. “He might be your father, Rachel.”

  I let go of her arm and back away.

  Rachel rises slowly.

  She turns and stares at me.

  “No,” I groan. “No!”

  How similar we are. How well we get along. Our love of books and silence. Our fucking hair color.

  The magnet that’s always pulled us together.

  “Oh no, Jaxson,” Rachel whispers. “What have we done? What if…”

  I croak, “Holy shit. The baby…if it’s mine.”

  Rachel starts to sob, “Oh my God! Jaxson, we…”

  I rush to pull her in my arms. “We didn’t know! We didn’t know.”

  I can feel Ellen’s stare. I jam a finger at her. “You! TALK.”

  Ellen struggles to stand. “I need a cigarette.” She goes for her bag fumbling with the zipper as I stroke Rachel’s hair, her body shaking with sobs.

  Flashes of us that first night are tearing up my insides. It’s fucking brutal how graphic they play out and how tainted they become in seconds. And then last night.

  “Go get some air,” I tell Rachel. “I need coffee. It’s too early for this shit.”

  Rachel nods and follows her mother to the porch, both of them wilted.

  I whisper under my breath now that I’m alone, “What the fuck am I gonna do?”

  My first thought is to call Jett, my best friend, but this will kill him, too.

  I need to take this hit on my own until I have more information.

  I need to listen to Ellen’s story first.

  Find out what the fuck went down, if she’s just lost her marbles or if Rachel really could be my half-sister.

  I need details before any of this can be processed.

  But holy fuck. I feel like I’m gonna puke.

  Gripping the kitchen counter with both hands, I stare out at my horses grazing in the distance. When I introduced Rachel to them and explained why I didn’t name the female Jenny, I was thinking of Rachel, telling her in my subtle way how I felt about her. That she was who I belonged with. I knew it when I was just a kid, when no one thinks you know anything – I knew she was for me.

  When she moved away, I made myself forget.

  Was it just because we’re family that we were drawn to be together? Did we just misunderstand the soul connection?

  “Shit!” I slam my hands on the counter and hold back tears.

  Until last night I wasn’t sure I could raise this baby as my own child even if it wasn’t mine. But that shifted. When Rachel and I made love something happened to me.

  I was ready to step up, even if it was Ryan’s. I knew nobody would ever take her away from me again like her parents did when they moved away.

  And now…

  “Fuck,” I rasp, yanking the brewed coffee pot so fast some splashes out. I pour until the cup overflows, and swear again. Exhaling disgust at this whole situation, I make quick strides to join them and find out how the fuck this happened.

  Rachel

  My hand is cradling my abdomen as I stare off.

  I can’t breathe.

  I can’t think.

  Jaxson...

  And a man who was not my father might have raised me.

  All these years might have been a lie. All the Christmases. All the birthdays. Going with my parents to the Cocker house for dinner and that man might have been my real father.

  My mom is smoking her second cigarette, lit up as soon as the other went to the nub. She quit years ago. Must have picked up the pack on the way here.

  I can’t imagine what she must have been feeling when she heard from Ryan who I was with, and how long I’d been in Georgia.

  She and I haven’t said a word after she whispered, “Rachel,” and I croaked, “Shut up.”

  I woke up with our limbs entwined, blissfully enmeshed and knowing I love him. And now he might be my brother.

  Jaxson explodes onto the porch, coffee splashing unnoticed as he locks eyes with me. He’s tortured, too. We’re both having a hard time looking at each other, so much pain.

  Numbness starts to take hold of me as I watch him plant his feet and bark at my mother, “When did it start?”

  Mom’s staring off into his ranch. The cows are making a lot of noise in the barn. No one was there to let them out. I heard them in our silence while we waited, but Jaxson hasn’t noticed.

  He wants answers. So do I.

  As memories play out before her distant blue eyes, Mom tells the story she’s held from us for decades. “You never plan these things you see. John and I moved a couple houses down from the Cockers during a difficult time. We were having trouble conceiving. It was putting a strain on our marriage. I’d had three miscarriages, and wanted a baby more than anything.” She takes a slow drag on the cigarette. “Michael was so handsome. So charming. So easy to talk to you just as neighbors. We didn’t plan the affair. No one ever does, I think. But I ran
into him quite by chance when I was visiting my mother in D.C. Michael was there working for a congressman, hoping to be one himself someday. We had lunch and then…” She inhales sharply at the memory’s strength. “I lied to my mother and said I had to go home early. Instead I went to Michael’s hotel. He didn’t want to let me in anymore than I wanted to be there. But the chemistry was too strong for us, and he’d given me the key already. It was too hard for me to turn it down. And with me standing there, he let me in.” She closes her eyes and whispers, “Shortly after, I became pregnant. But so did Nancy. Michael said my baby might not be his. I hated him for that, but agreed to keep quiet, even to keep it from John. We tried to stop, but time and again we weren’t able to resist the pull. It was too strong and we weren’t.”

  Jaxson growls, “Mr. Sawyer found out.”

  My mom glances to him from her daze and whispers, “Yes. Eventually he did. And he made me choose. We had to move. The first year in New York was one of the hardest of my life. The withdrawals from Michael were so painful.”

  “Mom,” I groan, covering my face. “How could you guys keep this from us?”

  She shrugs, defeated. “When you were kids, it didn’t matter. You were too little for me to worry that something would happen between you. But then when you ran off with him I saw his Jeep and knew who it was, first I shouted, then I called and called. I was going to tell you then but—”

  “—I left my phone there.”

  “Imagine my horror when I heard it in the guest room,” she takes a drag off the cigarette, the damage done. “I didn’t know where he lived or I would have driven here. And I didn’t have the courage to ask Nancy then. Michael and I have never spoken since I moved away.”

  Jaxson asks, “You talked to my mom today?” He’s glaring at her like he might rip her throat out.

  “Jaxson, calm down,” I whisper.

  “Calm down? Do you know what she did to us?!”

  “It wasn’t just me!” Mom cries out. “No one ever blames the man!”