On Solid Ground Read online

  “We barely made a dent.” Sliding the gallon of milk in the fridge, she takes stock of the rest of his food situation. “Looks like he lives on leftovers.” Pinching her nose closed, she dangles a Chinese take-out container on the end of her finger.

  “He’s a single guy who just inherited a kid. I doubt cleaning out the fridge is high on his priority list.”

  “Single?” Chloe arches an eyebrow.

  Stacking the mac and cheese boxes in the pantry allows me not to have to make eye contact with her. Turning around, I admit, “Well, I don’t know what the hell we are, so isn’t it just safer to make it seem like it’s less than it really is?”

  Without saying anything, Chloe pats the open seat next to her. “That depends.”

  “On?”

  “On what you want it to be.”

  “I think I want it to be that he’s not single, but I’m not sure I can convince him of that.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you don’t think you want someone. You either do or you don’t. And if you do, you go after it with everything you’ve got, no matter what difficulties you think may be in your way. If he needs convincing, then you convince him.”

  “Oh, it’s that simple, is it now?” I tease.

  “Actually, yes it is.” She neatly folds over the final paper bag, sliding it next to the garbage pail where the others are. “The only thing standing in your way is you.”

  We put away the rest of the food in comfortable silence. Before Chloe leaves, I take Tonka for a quick walk. By the time I get back to the apartment, Violet is waking up from her nap and it’s closing in on dinner time.

  “It’s been fun, but I’m out. Devon is taking me out dancing tonight.” Dramatically, she twirls around, joining hands with Violet and spinning her until she can no longer stand. “Have fun you two.”

  “Okay, Violet. What should we have for dinner?”

  Contemplating her choices, she makes me wait a solid two minutes before jumping up, excitedly yelling, “Pizza! Pizza! Can we get pizza?”

  “We didn’t get the stuff you need to make pizza, though.” Scratching my head, I try to come up with some kind of alternative that will save me from what I’m sure will be a tantrum if I don’t deliver.

  “No silly. There’s the pizza store right next to Uncle Beck’s store. Please,” she draws out the word, pouty lip and everything.

  Then you convince him. Chloe’s words echo in my head.

  “You got it! Let’s go.”

  It’s not a very long walk, but it’s long enough for little four-year-old feet. She’s more than happy to ride on my shoulders as we walk the few blocks to Beck’s shop. Lexie greets us as we walk in and I chuckle a little when Tonka glares at her.

  “She’s harmless, Tonka. Might not look it, but she’s good people.”

  “Hey there, little Miss Vi! What’s shakin’?” Lexie helps Violet down from my shoulders. “Look what I got for you.”

  “Awesome! Can I have one now?”

  “Let’s go ask your uncle first.” Shaking my head, I laugh in disbelief. Only Lexie would get a four-year-old temporary tattoos.

  I walk behind them into Beck’s room, where he’s currently meeting with a client who is interested in a multi-session large back piece. They’re shaking on the deal as Violet barrels into the room.

  “Hey, sugar pop!” He lifts her up on the counter before making the final arrangements for his customer to come back in an hour, when he’ll have the first of the piece drawn up.

  “Can I have one?” She holds out the sheet of tattoos for him to look at. “Pretty, pretty please with a raspberry on top?”

  He makes a face at her. “Don’t you mean cherry?”

  “No,” she makes a face back at him, “I like raspberries better.”

  When he agrees, she leaps into Lexie’s arms and they disappear down the hall to put the tattoo on.

  “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Violet wanted pizza,” I say, stepping closer to him. Emboldened by Chloe’s words of advice, I pin him between my body and the counter behind him. “And you left before I could do this.”

  Digging my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, I angle his head back. He gasps at the movement, but his eyes widen with what can only be called desire. My teeth sink into the soft skin where his neck meets his shoulder, causing a ripple of shivers to course through his body.

  His hands fall to my hips before he shoves them into the back pockets of my jeans. As he squeezes my ass, I attack his mouth. Nipping at his lower lip, I plant one final sweet kiss there, before pulling back from him.

  “Can you join us for a slice?” My thumb traces over his lips.

  “After a kiss like that, how can I say no?” He smiles, a beautifully crooked smile that makes my pulse beat as wildly as kissing him does.

  “Ahem,” Lexie clears her throat from the door, playfully shielding Violet’s eyes.

  The place next to the tattoo shop has tables set up outside, so Tonka comes along, enjoying a few broken pieces of crust throughout the meal. Beck tells me about the piece he’s designing for the client with whom he just met. I listen, completely in awe of his talents.

  Clearly famished, Violet doesn’t say much of anything through the meal, but when she does open her mouth, I nearly choke on my food. “Uncle Beck? What does hot tattoo man mean?”

  Clapping me on my back, Beck helps dislodge the piece of food stuck in my throat. “Nothing you have to worry about, sugar pop.” Satisfied with his non-answer, she returns to her meal, leaving me and my embarrassment to explain things to Beck.

  “Hot tattoo man, huh? Not terribly creative, but I’ll take it.” Beck laughs, gathering the cleared-off paper plates from the table.

  Violet, Tonka, and I walk Beck back to his shop. Busying herself with telling Tonka something top secret, Violet faces away from us. Leaning against my body, he whispers into my ear, “Don’t worry. Around here, they call you sexy soldier boy.” He drops a hand to my chest, running his fingers along the broad muscle. “I’ll see you around eleven,” he promises with a quick kiss to my cheek.

  The touch of embarrassment I initially felt over him finding out what I call him behind his back is quickly replaced by happiness at knowing he has a similar name for me.

  When Beck tiptoes into the apartment later that night, I press a finger up against my lips. “I just managed to get her to sleep in your room.”

  Holding up the poster I had to take down, Beck laughs. “Skull and cross bones were too much for her, huh?” Dropping the poster back on the table, he slides next to me on the couch as some late night talk show plays on in the background.

  “How’d the piece turn out?” I ask, genuinely interested.

  “Really great. I got the outline of the tree and all the branches for her family.” As he talks about the rest of the plans for the massive tattoo, he’s rolling his shoulders and popping his neck. “The thing might kill me, though.”

  “Here,” I pat the spot on the couch in between my legs, “let me see what I can do.”

  Without an ounce of reluctance, he sits in front of me. “How’s that?” My fingers work at the knots twisting deep in his shoulders. The fact he can’t answer in more than a grunt lets me know I’m doing okay. His head lolls forward as I work out the kinks in his neck.

  “That feels so good,” he groans as my hands work over his biceps and forearms.

  With his body limp and relaxed, I ease his shirt over his head, enjoying the warmth of his skin under my fingertips. Not much effort is needed to pull him against my chest. Reaching over his shoulders, I run my short nails over his chest, stopping to toy with his nipples as I trail a leisurely path down his stomach. He angles his neck to the side, exposing his skin to my mouth.

  Licking from shoulder to earlobe, I unbutton his pants. He lifts his hips and then kicks his jeans to the side. Sinking my teeth onto his earlobe, I suck on it lightly, mimicking the motion my hand is traveling up and down his dick.

 
He reaches behind to stroke me through the layers of clothing between us. “Ahhh,” my hips thrust forward into his hand and he turns around to face me.

  Renewed with some kind of energy, Beck peels my clothes off. In less than a minute, we’re no more than a tangled heap of limbs, naked and grinding against each other. Straddling my hips, it’s easy to touch him exactly where he wants to be touched. As my hand strokes his cock, I offer him my fingers, fucking his mouth with them.

  “Get them wet,” I demand. With one hand still jerking him off, the other one, now wet, reaches around, probing at his ass.

  “Dax,” he groans against my ear, his body a weightless force of energy moving against me.

  Holding himself up with one hand on the back of the couch, he grips my dick and sets a furious pace. Groaning out in protest when he stops, my eyes widen when I realize he’s shimmying down my body. On his knees in front of me, he takes me to the back of his throat, gagging on me in the process.

  “Oh, fuck . . . I’m com–”

  Midsentence, he climbs back onto my lap. “Not yet you’re not.” His eyes demand me to hold back as much as his words do. He grabs a condom from the back pocket of his jeans on the floor and rolls it over my erection. Pushing myself close to the edge of the couch, I balance Beck on my legs as he hovers over my dick. “You can come while you fuck me.”

  The lube on the condom and the residual wetness from my fingers help me slide smoothly into him. Burying myself to the base of my cock in one swift motion, I already feel like I’m too close to last much longer.

  Needing both of my hands to keep him balanced, I can’t touch him like I want. But with my dick thrusting deep into his ass, I can’t concentrate on much more than the feel of his body surrounding mine.

  “Oh, fuck,” he calls out too loudly.

  “Shut up,” I grind out, covering his mouth with my hand. The image of him submitting to me makes my dick throb as I still myself beneath him.

  He nods, promising to keep his mouth shut. Figuring he can’t speak if my tongue is in his mouth, I wrap one hand around his neck and pull his mouth to mine. He surprises the shit out of me when he starts sucking on my tongue in time to the rhythm of our fucking.

  “Oooh, God,” I groan against his lips as my orgasm rushes through me.

  His hand flies to his cock, stroking it between our writhing bodies. I look down, hypnotized by the motion. His body bends backward in pleasure, his back arching as a bead of moisture spills over the pierced tip.

  Keeping his promise of silence from before, he clenches his jaw as the hot, white ropes of his orgasm lash against my stomach.

  Flopping forward, he rests his forehead against mine, letting his heavy breathing mix with mine. “Stay the night?” he asks, pressing his lips to mine.

  “Like you can get rid of me now.”

  With stealth-like ninja movements, we clean up and pull our clothes back on. Beck comes back out into the living room, Violet cradled carefully in his arms. He lays her on the couch and stays with her for a few minutes to make sure she stays asleep.

  When she’s settled, we both climb into Beck’s bed. While it’s nothing more than a box spring and mattress on the floor, it’s the most comfortable I’ve been in a long time.

  With the steady movement of his fingers tracing over my tattoo, my breathing evens out. I don’t know if my eyes close before his fingers still or if it’s the other way around, but I do know that falling asleep next to Beck is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

  Waking up the next morning, an eerie sense of calm covers me like the blankets wrapped around me and Dax. He’s got one arm tucked under the pillow and the other outstretched over my waist. Still drowsy myself, it takes me a few minutes to really focus in on his face. Though I’ve heard people say they notice how relaxed their significant others look in sleep, I can’t say the same about Dax. There are deep lines of worry etched into his brow. His fists clench and release and his breathing grows uneven. The mumbled sound of his voice, initially calling out in groans and grunts, is what puts me at full attention. When the noises change over into regular speech, despite the fact that I feel like I’m eavesdropping, I can’t help but listen to what he has to say.

  “No!” He shifts on the bed, his legs scissoring between us. “Delaney.”

  As I sit there, debating whether or not I should wake him up, I see beads of sweat form along his upper lip. “No, no, no,” he repeats over and over again, his body locked in a rocking motion. Curling his legs up into fetal position, he knocks his head into my shoulder. The thud barely registers in his consciousness as he continues to deny whatever is happening in his nightmare.

  “Delany, no, no! You c-can’t d-die. De-delaney, no!” The last “no” is a long, drawn out noise of agony, a wail of sorrow unlike anything I’ve heard come out of anyone who is awake. “No,” he whispers. “No, you’re n-not sup-supposed to d-die . . . I l-loved y-you.”

  Tonka nudges his nose against the bed, whining in muted sympathy at seeing Dax like this. Even when he jumps up on the bed, his movement barely shakes Dax from his darkness. Resting his head on Dax’s pillow next to him, Tonka seems to know that it’s not in anyone’s best interest to wake him up when he’s like this. Who am I to argue with that logic?

  It was obvious before that Delaney was important to Dax. You don’t permanently etch someone’s name on your skin unless they mean something to you. But now, knowing how much Delaney actually means to him, I feel unsettled, as if I’ve intruded on something I was never intended to witness in the first place.

  After another minute or so, I debate waking Dax up. Unable to see him like this any longer, I lay down next to him, figuring that seeing my face as soon as he wakes up might help to remind him where he is. As I rub a hand over his shoulder, his words fade away, tears building in the corners of his eyes. He grips my forearm, a steel band of strength tightening around me. Even in sleep, he’s stronger than any man I’ve ever met.

  A black abyss of fear turns my stomach upside down. Remembering what he did to Ty, I flinch when his arm moves from my forearm to up around my shoulders. Dax could really do some damage to me, especially if he’s not completely aware of what’s going on. I know it would be totally unintentional, but still, the thought of his fist crushing my jaw isn’t an especially appealing one.

  When his head comes closer to my own, I fear the crack of his skull against mine. But in a moment filled with both nervousness and fear, Dax proves me wrong in all my worry. Tears easily streak down his face, tracking down his cheeks. Rather than crushing my own, his head falls to my chest, resting against my bare skin. With a physical strength I could never exert, Dax hugs me tightly, crying all the tears he keeps at bay while awake.

  Stroking my fingertips lightly through his hair calms him somewhat. “Shh, shh,” I repeat over and over, trying my best to calm him down without startling him too much. Eventually, the tears subside, and his breathing settles. Awareness dawns on him as the sun slices through the room.

  Afraid he’ll begin to recall what just happened to him and that he’ll pull away from me, I hold back my words. The last thing I want to do is scare him away or make him feel ashamed or embarrassed about what just transpired.

  With puffy, red eyes, he looks up at me. “Hi,” he croaks, his voice thick with a mixture of sleep and emotion. “I didn’t mean to . . .” his words fade away as he swipes at the wetness he’s just recognizing on his face.

  “It’s okay,” I assure him, pulling him back against my body, letting him spend a few more moments quieting himself before reality sets in. Tonka calmly rests his head on Dax’s curled up legs, waiting patiently to be pet, to be reassured that his Dax is okay.

  As if on cue, by the time Dax has dried his final tear, Violet bounds into the room, jumping on the end of the bed in a fit of energy that only a four-year-old can have at seven in the morning.

  “Wake up sleepy heads!” She bounces on my ankle and topples over, landing in the small strip of mattress
open between me and Dax. “Did you sleep over?” she asks, poking Dax in the chest.

  Our eyes meet over her head. The panic I feel is mirrored in his eyes. We’ve nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of—I’ve never once hid my identity as an adult, but I don’t know what Violet has seen and what she’s already been through. I don’t want to add to whatever screwed up shit she’s been exposed to with Nikki.

  Calmly, which is pretty much the exact opposite of what I’d expect from him right now, Dax smiles down at Violet and says, “I promised you my world famous waffles, remember? So I didn’t want you to miss out on them. Plus,” he winks at her, a conspiratorial tone coloring his words, “Tonka told me he’d be really unhappy if you didn’t take him for his walk this morning.”

  Violet’s face lights up, a wide smile spreading from ear to ear. “Can they please stay for breakfast, Uncle Beck?” she begs.

  “Absolutely, sugar pop. But if you want to go for that walk, you’re going to need to put your shoes and a hoodie on.”

  Though Violet rolls her eyes like any little girl worth her weight, she leaps out of bed, excitement vibrating all around her. Tonka wags his tail, following behind Violet and both Dax and I let out a deep sigh of relief.

  “Does she know you’re gay? I mean, do four-year-olds even know things like that?” Dax shifts on the bed, pulling himself up against the wall behind us.

  Running my hands through my hair, I try to wake myself up and shake off what just happened while thinking about an answer at the same time. It’s too early for all of this shit to be going on at once. “Uh, I don’t think so. She’s too young, anyway. But–” Pausing, I consider my words, but then think better of speaking them. “Let’s get a move on. Violet won’t wait long for you before she tries walking Tonka on her own.”

  “But what?” Dax stands, gathering the rest of his clothes and pulling a T-shirt over his head.

  “Nothing,” I deflect. Hoping that line of questioning is over with, I rifle through my drawers to pull out a pair of shorts.