Unethical Page 17

  I turned back to the receptionist. I could do this. Plus, I couldn’t keep stalling and make the people behind me wait any longer. Visiting hours closed later this afternoon, and most of these people looked anxious to see whoever was on the other side of the metal bars. I blew out a shaky breath. “Evan Cooper.”

  Her long nails clicked against the keys as she typed something into her computer. She squinted at the screen and handed back my ID. “Go wait in the reception area over there,” she pointed to the rows of seats to my left, “and someone will be out to escort you.”

  Blake had already saved me a seat in the reception area. The back of his head pressed against the glass window that overlooked the parking lot.

  “You ready for this?”

  I shook my head, staring at my shoes. “I don’t know.” A chill twisted through every crevice of my body, and I didn’t know if it was from the cool waiting room or the thought of seeing my father. Blake put his hand on my thigh, and I gnawed on the zipper of my jacket, my mind working on overdrive.

  How would I even start a conversation with him? Oh, hey Dad. Sorry I didn’t visit you for two years. How ’bout them Bears?

  Yeah, the conversation wouldn’t be awkward whatsoever.

  I had stewed long enough about Mom’s death. My parents had their reasons for keeping me out of the loop, I got that, and now it was time to do the right thing and pick up the pieces of our wrecked relationship.

  A buzzing sound came from a door that I assumed led to the prisoners. A wiry guy in uniform opened the door and walked into the reception area. He studied his clipboard and tapped his finger against it, muttering something under his breath.

  “Cooper. Please come with me.”

  Blake squeezed my thigh. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

  I nodded and got out of the chair, leaving my purse and cell phone with him. Clenching my shaking hands, I walked over to the door and took deep breaths through my nose. I glanced back at Blake one more time, his wide smile the only thing keeping my feet moving forward, closer to my dad.

  After going through a metal detector, the guard led me past what looked like a cafeteria, where several tables were spread across the room. A few families filled the tables, visiting, kids squealing and running around the area. I assumed the guard would take me in there, but we kept walking.

  He stopped in front of an opened door and pointed inside. I peered into the room, which looked like an interrogation room without the two-way mirror.

  “He’ll be down in a few minutes. Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll come get you when your thirty minutes are up.”

  I sat down at the side of the table that faced the doorway.

  My stomach lurched as I stared at the clock hanging above the doorway. I shifted uncomfortably as a lull in the commotion from the cafeteria of families filled my tiny room with an eerie silence. I flinched at every stroke of the second hand, like some twisted version of Chinese water torture, or maybe I had developed some sort of eye tick.

  I drummed my fingers on the metal table that would separate me from my father. My fingerprints left smudges on the reflective surface. I wiped away the prints with my sleeve. If only it was that easy to erase the past.

  Somewhere between one hundred eighty and one hundred ninety finger trills on the table, my father arrived. True to fashion, he donned an orange jumpsuit, his hands and feet uncuffed. He looked the same as he had last time I saw him, except for dark circles under his bright green eyes. The same color as mine.

  He stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at me like he didn’t quite believe what he saw. Was he mad? Pissed? Relieved? His face gave away nothing, which sent beads of sweat pooling on the small of my back. I squirmed in my seat. I didn’t have anything to talk about. What if he didn’t, either, and we sat in painful silence for the entire thirty-minute visit? The ticks from the second hand echoed in the room, my eye twitching on each loud click. One thousand eight hundred ticks of silence would rank right up there with chick-flick marathons and dates with Andrew—complete and utter torture.

  In one swift movement, he strode over to the table and pulled out the seat. The metal chair screeched against the linoleum and broke the deafening clock-tick cycle. He sat and put his hands on the table, interlacing his fingers. “Hello.” His voice came out unsteady, wavering on the o.

  “Hi.”

  This was a bad idea. Very bad. Maybe I should have written a script. I could even include blocking. Insert awkward hug between father and daughter. Two tears trickle down Evan Cooper’s cheek, glistening in the stage lights.

  We stared at each other for an excruciating amount of time. I pulled my curls into a bun, away from the sweat beading around my hairline.

  He sighed and ran his hands over his sideburns. “You look so grown up.”

  “So do you.” Why did that actually just come out of my mouth?

  A beat of silence.

  The corner of his mouth jumped up, and he let out a small laugh. “I suppose I do.”

  Another beat of silence.

  Oh my God, why did this have to be so excruciatingly awkward?

  Should I just pretend things were back to normal? Explain why I hadn’t contacted him in two years? How come nobody made a study guide for these types of situations? It could be like my MCAT textbook with multiple choice questions.

  1. If subject X is visiting subject Y in jail for the first time in two years, what is the appropriate dialogue?

  A. “Yo, daddio, long time no see. What’s shakin’?

  B. “I hate you for leaving me to fend for myself when I needed you most.”

  C. “Orange is so your color.”

  D. “I missed you so much. I love you.”

  D. Definitely D.

  “I missed you.” My voice wobbled, hot tears collecting in my throat.

  He reached across the table and grabbed my hand, grazing my knuckles with his thumb. “I missed you, too. How have you been?”

  “Good.” Better than you. “Busy with school.”

  A wobbly smile crossed his face. “Where are you going? What are you majoring in?”

  It hit me harder than a battering ram to the chest. He’d missed out on two years of my life. He knew nothing about me now. And it was all my fault.

  “I’m at Drexler now, majoring in biology with a pre-med emphasis.”

  “My baby girl.” He gave my hand a tight squeeze. “I’m so proud of you. Do you like your classes?”

  “Yeah.” I did, except for one. “Well, most of them. I don’t really like my ethics class. The teacher’s a jerk.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Because he hates on you. “Ugh. Dr. Centafont just has a stick up his as—butt.”

  His brow rose. “Nick Centafont?”

  “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “Went to med school with him. He was a jerk back then. I’m not surprised he hasn’t changed. He tried going for your mother at an event, and she ended up going home with me.” He gave a wry smile.

  How Professor Snape of Dr. Centafont. The grudge was starting to make a lot more sense. But Dad talking about “taking my mom home” had too much of a gross factor for me to handle. “Ew, Dad. Don’t talk about Mom that way.” He frowned, and I immediately wished I could pluck the words out of the air and tuck them into my jean pocket. Why did we have to bring up the mom subject? I didn’t know about him, but I wasn’t quite ready to talk about it yet.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. And we were back to clock torture. After thirty-seven agonizing tick tocks he said, “I miss her.”

  “Me, too.”

  He hesitated, shifting in his chair. “Did you get my letters?”

  “Yes.” My cheeks burned. I wouldn’t admit that I hadn’t read them all until just last week.

  “So you understand—”

  “Yes.” I pulled my hands away and set them in my lap. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” My lip quivered, and I was sure that, if I spoke ag
ain, I’d break down. Keep it together. You’re finally getting somewhere with him.

  “It hurt me, too. But it wasn’t my decision to make. I hope you realize that.” A tear tracked down his reddened cheek, and he quickly wiped it away.

  I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

  “I’m so glad you came. I missed you so much.”

  And it started. Snot ran down my nose. Sobs wracked through my chest. Tears blurred my vision. “I missed you, too, Dad,” I croaked.

  His chair squealed against the linoleum as he kicked it back and raced over to my side. He wrapped me in a hug, and I cried into his orange jumpsuit, soaking the fabric with my tears.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  His body shook, and I looked up to see tears flowing freely down his face. He squeezed me tighter. “I love you, too.”

  The car ride home had been filled with a comfortable silence as I stared out the passenger window and hummed along to a Kenny Chesney song on the radio. Blake pulled into my apartment complex and cut the engine.

  “Thanks for coming with me today.”

  He squeezed my thigh. “You’re welcome.”

  Maybe it was the emotions swirling around my bloodstream, but I had an overwhelming urge to show him just how thankful I was. I unbuckled my seatbelt, leaned across the bench seat, and nipped at his ear. He groaned as I glided my tongue over the fleshy part of his lobe.

  He grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of him, and I could feel just how excited he was because of my kisses.

  “You know what that does to me.”

  Fire set between my legs, and I wanted to feel him inside of me. Knowing Whiskey Creek had plenty of families with young kids, we needed to get inside before we scarred them for life. I slid off Blake, and he reached over and smacked my ass as I went to exit the truck. I shot him a look, and we both raced to my apartment door quicker than I had sprinted in a while. It had to be a new personal record.

  Before the door was locked, I had Blake’s shirt off and worked on his jeans that hung low on his hips. I ran my hands over the lickable V-lines, and, heck, if I was taking chances today, might as well go all in. I dropped to my knees and ran my tongue along the grooves between his hips. He shuddered and threaded his fingers through my hair.

  “Get off your knees,” he ordered.

  “You don’t want this?” I grazed my teeth across the fabric covering his erection.

  He groaned, his dick throbbing against my mouth, but he scooped his hands under my arms and pulled me to standing.

  “No.” His intense gaze sent a shiver down my core. “I want to make love to you.”

  He stuck his warm, steady hands under my shirt, and I lifted my arms as he gingerly dragged it over my head and kissed down my neck. I arched my back, my nipples pressing against his chest. My breath rushed out as he rubbed his thumb across the fabric of my bra, over my hardened tips. The pleasure shot straight down, low in my belly, and I ached for him. My knees buckled as he nipped the edge of my bra, tugging it down with his teeth.

  He reached behind me, unhooked my bra, and it fell to the floor. I waited to see what he planned to do next. He backed away, his gaze roaming up and down the length of my body.

  “How did I get so lucky?”

  He drew me into his arms and crushed his lips to mine. My legs wobbled, and I held on to him tighter as our kiss deepened. He pushed me backward, down the hallway.

  The only clothing left when we entered my bedroom were my lace panties and his boxers. I knew I had surprised him last night by taking charge. Redefining myself over the past two years taught me I had nothing to be ashamed of, at least when it came to my body. But, tonight, I wanted him to take charge. I had the feeling he sensed this, because he scooped me up, carried me to the bed, and laid me down. He hovered over me, his intense gaze zapping an electric current through my body.

  My legs spread open, inviting him, my knees trembling as I anticipated him entering me. It always shocked me how something so large could fit. I squirmed under him, growing impatient.

  He worked his fingers down my stomach. They passed the place I really wanted him to be, and grazed along the inside of my thigh. I rocked my hips, trying to send him the message of where I wanted his fingers. C’mon, future Dr. Blake. Use that common sense you tout so much about. He smirked and brushed his thumb over the fabric of my panties. And then it was gone, traveling down my leg. I wasn’t in the mood for teasing. I needed this. Now. Grabbing his hand, I placed it back on my panties.

  He smiled at me through hooded eyes and slipped one finger under the lace. I closed my eyes as he slid it into me.

  Warmth rushed over my body as he worked his thumb over my apex. A hunger gnawed at my insides, his fingers suddenly not enough. I wanted to feel that connection—the one we had shared so many times before.

  I tugged down his boxers, and he kicked them to the floor. He gasped as I grabbed his hardened length and looked into his eyes.

  “I want you,” I whispered.

  His gaze swept over my body once more before he pulled down my lace thong one inch at a time, planting kisses down my legs. As soon as he removed them, he threw them onto the floor next to his boxers.

  He jumped off the bed and grabbed his pants in the hallway, and, still in sight, ripped open a foil package and rolled on the condom. When he walked back into the room, he stood in the doorway and watched me, his hazel eyes blazing. Making his way to the bed, my gaze rolled over his rippling muscles that flexed every time he took a step. Greek statues had nothing on his chiseled features.

  My body tensed, this moment stuck in slow-motion when I needed fast-forward. He climbed on the bed, hovering above me. I opened my legs, and he lowered himself, his erection pressing against my thigh.

  He ran his hand through my hair and said, “Is this what you want?”

  I nodded and gasped as he slowly entered me, and shockwaves sparked as he thrust farther. His thickness filled me completely when he pushed all the way in. My heart swelled, our two bodies connecting in the most intimate way.

  He looked down at me, his eyes glazed in ecstasy. I tightened around him, and liquid heat bolted straight through me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment. As he plunged in and out, I edged closer to the brink, my body trembling beneath his as release built between my thighs.

  He kissed my neck, and his breath brushed heavily across my ear. “I love you.”

  I wrapped my legs and arms around him. Even though he was inside me, I couldn’t get close enough. I needed to be closer to him. This felt more intimate than any other time I had been with him. We had been through so much crap and still made it out on the other side. I appreciated him more than I ever imagined I could back in high school. “I love you, too.”

  A heat wave coursed through my body as pleasure zinged through every synapse. My body shook, and I squeezed my eyelids shut and enjoyed the pure bliss of the orgasm ripping through me. My head swam, colors—deep reds and blues—flashing across my eyelids.

  His shallow breaths increased, and he let out a sexy growl before his thrusts turned erratic and he found his own release. His face pinched, and his brows knit together as he plowed into me harder. “Oh God, Payton.”

  The way he said my name both melted my heart and sent me spiraling into another climax. Liquid heat rushed through my body, and I realized how much I needed him. He was my rock. He made me complete.

  After we found our releases, he kissed my forehead and slid off the bed. My body molded into the mattress as I lay there completely sated. Blake came back a couple minutes later sans condom.

  He collapsed beside me and wrapped me in his warm arms. With my body pressed against his warm chest, I decided, at that moment, life could not be any more perfect.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Blake

  I ran my hands through Payton’s curls. She had some major sex hair going on, and it was pretty damn hot. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave me a sleepy smile.

  How could s
omeone look so good when they first woke up? Especially after three rounds last night.

  We had to stop after round two to get some Thanksgiving sustenance. Best Thanksgiving of my life. Frozen turkey pot pies that we fed to each other while watching Christmas movies. We cuddled on the couch and ate Jules’s Oreos until we were both up for round three.

  “Morning, beautiful.”

  She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She looked like she was savoring the moment. “Morning, handsome.”

  She nestled her head in to my neck, and I kissed her forehead. If this wasn’t heaven, I didn’t want to go anywhere she wasn’t involved. Her body, warm and toasty, pressed against mine.

  “What do you want to do today?” I kissed along the perimeter of her hairline and then worked my way down to her lips. She let out a soft moan as I kissed her. I maneuvered my body so it hovered above hers and left a trail of kisses down her neck to the swell of her breasts.

  “I could think of something.”

  She tugged at my boxers, pulling them down to expose my dick in all his morning glory. She spread her legs beneath me, and I lowered myself. Just as I was about to enter her, a noise came from the front of the apartment.

  In one swift moment, I jumped off the bed, pulled up my boxers, which did little to hide the raging erection, and grabbed my jeans off the floor. Her roommate wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow, and I wasn’t about to beat some intruder to the ground with my wang hanging out.

  “What are you doing?” Payton whisper yelled.

  I zipped up my jeans and strode over to her bedroom door. “I’m going to see what’s out there.”

  She nodded. Her hands fisted the comforter that she held up to her neck as she sat in bed.

  When I opened the door to Payton’s bedroom, the front door hung wide open, a suitcase parked the middle of the hallway. I kicked the door shut and made my way to the kitchen, where Jules put something in her mouth, took a swig of water, and tipped her head back.