Caged

4-2

NOT MUCH CONVERSATION passed during our meal. Even if the air of despondency hadn’t sullied the mood, the fullness of my mouth would have hindered my chatter. I almost couldn’t get the damn pizza in fast enough—until I caught the two females staring at me, remembered my manners, and made a mental note to slow down.

Mia hopped up the moment I aimed the last slice toward my mouth and cleared away the plates. The easy way she moved about the house, from room to room, without an ounce of discomfort, led me to believe she stayed over a lot. She cut back through the living room and disappeared into the hall, the stairs creaking as she headed up.

“I’ll fix you a drink,” Shelley said.

I climbed from my position on the floor and followed her into the kitchen.

As though unaware of my pursuit, she paused in front of the window. Her hands rubbed across her face before they found support on the countertop, and a long, slow breath exhaled past her lips.

“We’ll get him back, Shel,” I said.

She turned and met my eyes with her almond-shaped greens. “I trust you to find him.”

I nodded—could think of no other way to respond to someone who had more faith in me than I held in myself.

“Why don’t you grab some glasses?”

I moved across to the cupboard, my hip brushing against Shelley’s and nudging her. “Sorry,” I mumbled, reaching out a hand to steady her.

“It’s okay,” she said as she continued past to the fridge.

The glasses had been kept in the same cupboard for months, so I knew where to find them. They clinked together as I picked up two, the fridge closing with a whoosh and a thunk behind me.

“Will Mia want one?” I turned to find Shelley with the bottle balanced between her denim-clad thighs while she twisted the corkscrew into the top. “Why don’t you let me do that?”

“I can manage.” Her tone held a brimful of determination, yet her grunt negated the words. A few more twists of her wrist penetrated the cork further. “I’m not as weak as you all think, you know.”

“I don’t think you’re weak.”

Her gaze lifted as she fought with the bottle and the opener. “No?”

“No. Just ...” I smiled. “... feeble.”

She glowered for a second, but then she straightened and waved the offending item at me. “Fine. You do it, then.”

I swapped the glasses for the bottle, grabbed the corkscrew handle, and tugged. The stopper slid out with a gaseous plop, and the richness of red wine scented the kitchen.

Shelley held out the glasses.

I poured a generous glug into each, set the bottle down on the countertop, and turned back to tap my drink against Shelley’s. “Here’s to ...”

What the hell did we have to drink to? The woman’s son had gone missing, for goodness sake.

“Getting Gabe back,” she said.

I tipped my face down to her, as she gazed up at me, forcing my head to nod while attempting to keep my worry at bay.

Fire sparked a glower into her eyes, and her free hand fisted as she leaned toward me. “You can take that look out your eye, Ethan Holloway.”

I stared at her. “What—”

“You can take it out right now.”

My brow knitted. “What—”

“That damn look of defeat.” She poked me hard in the chest. Wine slopped over the rim of her glass, splashing at my feet.

I skimmed my drink across the counter and grabbed for her hand. “I’m not—”

“You don’t give up.” Her fist reformed, and she thumped it against my shoulder as I tried to pry her glass from the vice-grip of her other hand.

A low growl escaped as I freed the drink and set it down. “I haven—” I turned back to a double slam against my chest.

“It’s not your style.”

My jaw clenched. “I haven’t given up ...”

“Don’t you let me down, Ethan.”

I snatched for her arms, as she lunged toward my face, ducking with a snarl when I missed. My hands tightened—more against the verbal than physical assault.

“Don’t you dare let my Gabe down!”

“I’ve barely even started!” I snapped as my fingers circled her wrists coming at me. “Dammit, Shelley, give me a chance, will you?”

We stared at each other, chests heaving. With a sob, she jerked away from me, fisted her hands into her fringe and dragged them over her face.

Emotion effected Shelley’s eyes with a high shine, her cheeks with a deep blush that glowed beneath her hair. She averted her eyes, seemed to seek self-control with long, deep breaths.

The blood passing through my carotid artery slowed its surge as I waited for her to turn back to me, fully regulating itself only once she had.

“I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you.” Her fingers folded over my forearm, before she whipped her hand away and wrung it with her other. “I’m taking this out on the wrong person.”

Before I could stop myself, I reached out to sweep her mussed hair back from her face. “Who else would you take it out on?”

I went to pull back, but her hand covered mine, holding it against her face. With a shallow sigh, she pushed onto tiptoe, placed her lips to my cheek. “Thank you.”

I expected her to move away, but her breaths continued to warm my skin. As her fingers wove into my hair, a slight twist of my head showed me her eyes with half-lowered lashes. “Shel?” My voice came out deeper than intended.

“Just ...” Her breath shuddered out, and the tremor of her body hit my chest. “Just hold me, okay?”

I slid my arms around her back, lifting her when I realised it would be easier than stooping. She didn’t protest, as I pulled her close against my body, nor did she seem to mind when my nose nestled into her neck to inhale her sweet scent.

Her fingers within my hair twisted a little, and her face came to rest mere inches from my throat. I closed my eyes as her breaths drifted over me, as her other hand folded around a scrap of my clothing, and held her even tighter when a damp patch began to expand across the fabric of my shirt.

“I’ll find him, Shel,” I murmured into her ear. “I promise I won’t stop searching until I have.”

Her face shifted, and I pulled back. As our gazes met, my heart damn near stuttered its rhythm.

Teardrops decorated the cheeks of her elfin features, like diamonds, redacting the light beneath the glistening emeralds that stared back at me. They all merged into one rainbow of beauty as I ducked nearer.

Shelley didn’t flinch from my clumsy head thrust, or from the tentative sweep of my lips across hers. Instead, her face tilted, our noses brushed, and her lips parted as they pressed against mine.

A rumble brewed deep within me as the sudden tightening of my jeans announced an arousal I hadn’t expected. With a dart of my tongue, I tasted the faint spiciness of the meal we’d shared. As her left leg lifted, my hand swept down, hooked beneath her thigh, and my step back brought me into contact with the counter.

Her fingers grasped onto my shirt, hauled it taut across my shoulder. One quiet sigh followed another as her tongue met with mine.

I spun, nudged her rear onto the breakfast bar, and slipped between her knees. My fingers grabbed her hips, tugged her forward against my erection, and at her gasp, I gave a low growl.

The fingers within my hair entwined with the strands. A small yank encouraged me to keep going. Another tongue dart, another sample, and the thrum vibrated throughout my entire body, shivering along my spine. My pelvis pushed forward, my lips devouring the delicious fullness of hers, until the urge to clamber up on the work surface and bring forth even more of her erotic scent overwhelmed me.

A click arrived from the living room, followed by the sweep of the door across carpet, and Shelley shot back from me like I’d zapped her with a thousand volts.

Her chest rose and fell as her hands flew out. She stared at me for a second, her wide-eyed expression one of total shock, before the scramble of her legs sent her sprawling past me to the floor. Her cheeks held high colour as her head whipped up toward Mia in the doorway.

I kept my groan silent, rubbing my face.

“I, um ...”

My hand dropped at Mia’s stutter. I found her staring my way, while Shelley fussed with her blouse.

Mia thumbed over her shoulder. “I only came down to tell you I’m going to bed.”

“Me, too,” Shelley mumbled, and she ducked past Mia into the living room.

As I frowned after Shelley, the young teenager tracked her passage, before she whirled back toward me with narrowed eyes.

I thought about explaining myself, even went as far as opening my mouth.

“G’night, Ethan,” she said through compressed lips. With a final look that could only be interpreted as a warning, she spun and shot off up the stairs after Shelley.

Alone, I let my groan free and slipped a hand into my boxers to adjust my bulging discomfort. As my fingers wrapped around my stiffness, the temptation to relieve my frustration crossed my mind for a split-second, until a headshake cleared my thoughts.

I held out my waistband, peered into the depths of my underwear as I tucked him to bed. “Settle back down, buddy.” I blew out a breath, rolling my shoulders. “Not meant to be.”