Hot Dirty Love (Copperline #5) (19 page)

“Guys, meet Gracie,” Brannon said a couple hours later as we were led back into the room. He sat on the edge of Sophie’s bed holding a little pink face in a blanket.

The Mofo girls rushed him, dragging Rain right along with them, and the whole bunch cooed as though they’d lost their ability to speak like normal people. As I fought back another peevish wave of unease, I heard little squeaks about how beautiful Gracie was. How perfect and miraculous, even if her face was kinda squished and she didn’t even open her eyes.

Worse yet, the other guys looked half loopy, too. Once more, the domesticity of my friends made me feel like we were worlds apart. Yet, as they brought Rain into the fold like she was meant to be there, I almost wondered if it could be possible. If somehow…
maybe…

Fuck off
, I reprimanded myself.

I knew better, so I shut that shit down and forced an easy smile onto my face. I reminded myself who—and what—I was.

“Wait until Max and Eoghan see her,” Cody murmured quietly. “They’ll love her.”

I sure as fuck wasn’t Cody.

Brannon glared at him, but with a joking smile lighting his face. “Keep your little fuckers away from my daughter, or I’ll fire your ass.”

“You’ve been threatening me with that for years,” Cody grinned easily. “I think if you were going to do it, you’d have done it by now.”

Little Gracie, disturbed by all the touches and all the goo-goo shit, opened her eyes and let out a little cry. Brannon shot Sophie a panicked look, but she just smiled and held out her arms to take Gracie back. She held her daughter close with sweet little murmurs to soothe the infant’s distress.

The strangest emotion crept into my chest as I watched Sophie look down at her newborn child. The sheer awe lighting her face. The pure adoration that radiated from her, almost taking my breath away.

It was a mother’s love.

So that’s what it looked like.

I was quiet on the way back to Ophir that evening. Unsettled. A little angry, even.

I hadn’t felt this way in years.

This
was why I didn’t like to feel.

I didn’t say a word as I unlocked the door and walked in. I grabbed a bottle of Wild Turkey off the top of the fridge and strode into the greatroom to flop down on the couch and take a long drink.

“Are you okay?” Rain asked, standing warily still and watching me sink into my dark mood.

No
, I thought, but that’s not what I said.

“Fuckin’ dandy.”

Awkward silence.

“Do you want me to leave?”

No
, I thought… again.

“Whatever you want.”

I turned to look at her, wishing the bourbon would kick in to numb the complete emptiness I felt inside. Her brows narrowed. She stepped closer and came to sit with me, lifting her palm up to cup my cheek. The faint touch of her hand burned through me, reverently touching me like I was special and precious.

It felt so beautiful, but painfully so.

I set the booze aside and tangled my fingers in her hair with a sharp tug. Her startled cry rang out in the quiet room, but I didn’t let go. My lips crashed down on hers, and I pushed her back down on the couch beneath me. I jerked open her jeans and stripped them from her in a flash, ripping my own fly open and quickly donning a condom from my pocket. None-too-gently, I wedged myself in between her thighs. The more she just let me, the rougher I became. Right up until I thrust hard into her so hard she practically screamed.

I looked down at her then, her bruised lips and hot, tearful expression. I stared into her eyes, suddenly afraid to move, afraid to let the beast out of me.

But then she kissed me.

Her trembling lips touched mine. Her fingertips brushed my jawline as she turned her head to deepen the tender caress. The warmth of her very soul thawed something inside mine. It released something bitter, something vile I’d been holding tight almost all my life.

The naked desperation ebbed away. Her hips rose up to take me in more fully as her lips dusted over my features. The darkness lifted a little more with every movement, like she was fucking the bitterness clean out of me. It was the strangest thing, almost frightening.

I let her. She soothed something inside me as she coaxed me to rock slowly into her sweet warmth. To lose that ragged frustration and kiss her back with something that almost felt like hope, deep and promising.

She kissed me when I came—a gentle brush of her lips to mine—and I sensed a whole new side of me had emerged.

“Are
you
okay?” I asked. “I was a little rough.”

Rain stroked her fingers through my hair as I lay where I’d collapsed, my head resting against her slowing heartbeat and her legs wrapped around my waist.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m a pretty tough chick… and just a teensy bit masochistic.” Her touch continued to feather over my skin, sweet and soft and sensual. “Are you?”

Her voice sounded hesitant. Wary.

I thought about what to say. If I should say anything at all.

But there was something about the way she held me… I had to.

“It was the way Sophie looked at her baby,” I began. Her caress stilled just momentarily before continuing on. “It touched a nerve. I don’t think my mom ever cared about me that much. Not even close.”

Silence.

And then…

“I’m trying really hard not to ask why you think that,” she admitted in a quiet voice.

“Because you think I don’t want to tell you?” I asked. “Or because you don’t want to know?”

“Both, I guess.”

“I haven’t seen her in years,” I conceded with a shrug. “I don’t talk about her much.”

Strangely, I found myself wanting to do just that. To talk about her.

With Rain.

Yet she had admitted that she didn’t really want to. This was something intensely personal, a pretty deep conversation.

And we were just fucking. That’s all I was really good for… to anyone.

I pulled out and shifted my weight off her to sit up, slipping off the condom and tossing it in the trash at the end of the couch. I tucked my dick back into my jeans and simply stared off into space, away from her, attempting to make the disappointment fade.

I didn’t really want to share anyway. Sharing was for pussies.

But then she followed. She curved her arm around my back and rested her chin on my shoulder.

“Why?” she quietly asked.

I looked back to her and saw her eyes fixed on me. Empathy and compassion filtered into her gaze, warming the cold edges of my consciousness. Bare, body and soul.

“She left,” I finally replied.

“I look just like my dad. My mom used to say that all the time when I was little. She called me his little clone, said with such pride.” I paused to take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Then everything changed. Overnight.”

“What happened?”

“My dad was slapped with a paternity suit from some chick he banged in a bar.”

“Oh, shit,” she murmured.

“Yup. My mom was so horrified that she could barely even look at
me
anymore. All she saw was him. His other kid who also looked just like him. A boy who looked just like me.”

None of the guys even knew this. I had never breathed a word of this to anyone. Not in my entire life. In my desire to be wanted, this rejection festered. It was something I couldn’t admit to a soul… before now.

“You have a brother?”

“A couple of them,” I replied. “My dad was pretty free with sowing his wild oats. And my mom…” I shook my head.

“What did she do?”

“She just… stopped. She wanted nothing to do with him or me. Her devastation was so strong. She hated him more than she loved me.”

“Oh, Justin…” Rain whispered, her voice empathetic in the shadows.

“She left us both. She just walked out the door right in front of me. She moved on. Remarried. Started a new life. New husband. New kids.” I swallowed against the sudden swollen lump in my throat. “She knew there was nothing to stay for because I was just like him—not worth a shit.”

“That’s not true.”

“My own mother didn’t give two fucks about me, Rain. How bad do you have to be for that to happen?”

“I don’t believe that,” she replied. “I don’t know why she did what she did, but I don’t believe that.”

“I got birthday cards for a couple years. I got Christmas presents. I used to go see her for a month or so in the summer until I got a job mowing lawns when I was thirteen. I did that mostly so I’d have a reason not to go. I was an outsider there. I have two brothers and a sister there I barely know. I never became part of
her
family. I was always
his
son.”

“How old were you when this happened?”

“Seven.”

“Jesus, Justin.” She curled around me, drawing close with a quiet sob into my shoulder. “You were just a little kid.”

“It was just me and my dad after that… and his revolving door of pussy.”

“What about his other kids?”

“Two boys. Two different mothers that never felt he was a fit enough parent to be involved. I never really got to see them much. He paid court-ordered child support up until he died, but that’s about it. They cared for their kids enough that they didn’t really want him around. Unlike my mom.”

“Justin—”

“They were right, though. He was a horrible parent. I’m proof.”

“What do you mean?”

“I fuck good. I play the bass. School came really easy, so I was a good student, and I’m a fair teacher. But that’s about it. I don’t really have any other redeeming qualities. Part of that is nature. I’m genetically an asshole. Part is nurture… or lack thereof.”

“I think you have more redeeming qualities than you allow people to see.”

“Nah, I’m just like him. Destined to die in some random chick’s hotel room like he did.”