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Authors: Nicole Hildreth

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BOOK: 186 Miles
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“I
can’t wait to fuck you here later… when everyone is gone.”  He kissed me slow. 
“And it’s just me…” Another kiss.  “And you…”

 

I
pushed him away, placing my hands on his chest, letting out a short laugh. 
“What’s wrong with you?”

 

“What? 
I just wanted to show you my new room.  It’s where the magic happens.”

 

“Oh,
boy.”  I opened the door and shot him a look.  “Behave.”

 

He
made a jolt after me, smacking me on the behind. 
I was way too hung-over
for this.
 

 

*

 

We
unpacked box after box and assembled mountains of furniture. 

 

“Ugh,”
I groaned.  “This sucks.”

 

“We’re
done now, babe.”  He paused.  “Hey, Ray?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Talked
to my mom yesterday.”

 

Oh,
boy.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“She
wants to come down.  She and my dad were thinking next weekend.”

 

Oh
God, oh God, oh God.  What if they hated me?

 

“Oh,
to see your new place?  That’s nice.  You should make dinner or something.”

 

“They’re
coming down to meet
you
.”

 

Pressure,
pressure, pressure.

 

“Oh. 
Well, I’d like to meet them, so… that’s good.” 
What was I supposed to say?

 

He
walked over and gave me a quick hug.  “They’re going to love you.  I do and
Jack does.”  He held my face in his hands.  “You remind me of her.  My mom. 
She’s selfless, just like you.”

 

“Thank
you.”  My voice was low.  “I can’t wait to meet her.”

 

“Good. 
They get here Friday night.”

 

Oh.

 

*

 

I
was tired, falling asleep on Vince’s couch.  When I woke, I heard Vince in the
kitchen with Jeremy, their voices low.

 

Vince
was upset.  “What the fuck are you talking about, man?”

 

“I’m
just saying, if you two aren’t exclusive, I wouldn’t mind taking a crack at
her.”

 

“Are
you kidding me right now?  Rachel? 
My
Rachel?” 
Oh yeah, he was
pissed.

 

“I
didn’t think she was yours, mate.  Not by the way she acted in Chicago.”

 

Um,
no.
  I needed to
end this, wherever it was going.

 

I
walked in and put my arm around Vince’s waist.  “What happened in Chicago,
Jeremy?”

 

Jeremy
smiled and faced me.  “Well, hello, love.”

 

“What
happened in Chicago, Jeremy?” I repeated.

 

He
turned to Vince this time.  “You know how she
is
, man.  She was gagging for
it.  Hell, she had a hump with you a week after you met, so why would you think
that she was such a good girl?  She’s like a peach, this one.  Ready to burst.”

 

Vince
stood and took a swing, connecting with Jeremy’s chin.  He stayed standing, but
took a step back, smiling.  He lightly massaged his jaw.

 

“Get
out of my fucking house,” Vince growled.

 

“She
tastes like fucking honey, am I right?”  Jeremy swiped his bag from the floor
and headed towards the door.  “And she sucks like a fucking porn star.”

 

Why
was he doing this?
 He
had never even touched me.

 

“Out.” 
Vince stepped out of my grasp, walking to the door.  “Now.”

 

Jeremy
smiled again.  He turned his back to us and shut the door behind him.

 

“What
the fuck is he talking about, Rachel?”

 

Are
you kidding me?

 

“I
have no idea, Vince.  I’ve never even touched him.  When we were in Chicago, he
got my sister drunk and then tried to fuck her while Jack and I were having a
cigarette on the front porch.  That’s about the extent of my ‘time’ with
Jeremy.  I had to pull him off of her.”

 

“Then
what?”

 

“Then
what,
what
?”

 

“What
happened after that?”  He was terse, angry.

 

“Nothing!”

 

“Did
Jack take you home?”

 

“Elsa
got sick so we spent the night.”

 

He
ran a hand through his hair and walked into the bedroom, taking a seat on the
edge of the bed.  I followed, sitting close to him.

 

“Nothing
happened, babe.”  I rubbed his back.  “You have to believe me.”

 

He
placed his hand on my thigh, rubbing his thumb across my skin.  “Okay.”

 

“Okay?” 
I locked my eyes with his.  “I mean it.  Nothing.  Elsa and I slept in Jack’s
room and he slept on the couch.”

 

“I
know... I believe you.  That guy’s a dick.  I’ll talk to Jack.  He’ll be gone
by Monday.”  He stroked my leg with his fingers.  I could feel him softening. 
“I wonder why he would say those things.”

 

“I
don’t know.  Is he jealous of you?”  I thought about it.  “Maybe he just
doesn’t like
me
.”

 

He
didn’t answer.  “Let’s just go to your house.  I don’t know where anything is
here, so we would just be fumbling around trying to find shit.”

 

“Okay.” 
I paused.  “Where
is
Jack, by the way?”

 

“He
went to your place while you were taking your nap.  He felt rougher than
you
did, I think.” 

 

“Think
Jeremy is going to go there to try to get a ride back from him?”

 

“Not
if he’s smart, he won’t.  He’ll get the first fucking bus back to Illinois.”

Chapter
Fifteen

 

 

Jack
was sitting on the couch when we got back, playing some sort of zombie game on
the Xbox.  “Take that, you fucker!”

 

“Hey,
Jack,” Vince called.  “Turn that off, will you?”

 

Jack
clicked pause on the game.  “What?”

 

“Jeremy
come back here?”

 

“No,
I figured he was with you guys.”

 

“Nope. 
Hey, uh, he basically told me that he fucked Rachel.”

 

I
tensed.

 

Jack
shot up.  “What?”

 

“Oh
yeah, he said that she did it on her trip to Chicago when she saw you guys. 
Said she was like a
peach
.”  He looked at me.  “Ready to burst.”

 

“Um…
unless you count him trying to dry hump Elsa against a wall while Rachel and I
were outside, then I would say he was mistaken.  They got to our place after 10
and were asleep by midnight.  Elsa spent half of it chucking her fucking guts
out in the bathroom, so there wasn’t a whole lot of time for that.”

 

Vince
looked agitated.  I hadn’t ever seen him look like that before.  “He’s gotta
go.  When you get back home, throw his shit out on the patio.  I mean it.”

 

“He’s
already scheduled to move at the end of the month, but as soon as I get back,
he’s gone.”  Jack stood.  “You alright, man?”

 

“No,
I’m not fucking alright.  He just told me that he fucked my girlfriend and that
she sucked him off, so no, I’m not alright.”  He was practically shouting.

 

I
winced.  “Vince,” I whispered.

 

He
turned to me.  “What?”

 

“I
didn’t do that.  I wouldn’t do that.  You
know
it.”

 

“I
know
, Ray.  I just don’t want anyone to talk about you like that.”  His
voice was softer, vulnerable.

 

I
laced my fingers in his.  “Hey.”

 

He
turned and dipped his head to kiss me.  “I love you.”

 

“I
love you, too.”

 

“Hey,
you guys, I’m gonna take off.  You need time alone or whatever.”  Jack looked
visibly uncomfortable.

 

I
turned to him.  “Stay.  I’m going to make dinner and then we are going to have
a little family feast.”  I clapped my hands together.  “It’s going to be
epic.”  I smiled at both brothers.

 

*

 

“So,
Ms. Stephens, Vince tells me that you are going to meet the parental units next
weekend.”

 

I
concentrated my eyes on the wok in front of me, running a wooden spoon back and
forth over my chicken and vegetables.  “Yeah, so he tells me.”

 

Jack
laughed.  “You’re gonna like them.”

 

“He
said that too.”

 

Vince
put his arms around my waist, dipping his chin into the crook of my neck. 
Sometimes
Ryan did that. 
“They are going to love
you
, mama.”

 

Jack
sipped a beer at the counter.  “They will, Rach.  You’re like our mom a bit.”

 

Huh. 
Vince had said that too.

 

He
continued.  “Yeah, she’s all Betty Homemaker and shit.  She’s a nurturer… like
you.”  He tipped his bottle and gave me a close-lipped smile.

 

“Thank
you.”  I stared into my pan.  “Do I call them Mr. and Mrs. Conti or Isabelle
and Anthony?”  I looked up now, searching for guidance.

 

Vince
laughed.  “Definitely not Mr. and Mrs. Conti.  And my mom goes by Belle.”

 

“Oh…
that’s pretty.” 
It was.
  I always secretly wished that I had a pretty
name like Belle.  Rachel was so… eh.  “And your dad?  Does he go by Tony?”

 

“No,”
both men said in unison, laughing.

 

“What? 
Is that a weird question?” 

 

“No,”
Jack answered, “it’s just that
his
dad was Tony and he hated his dad,
so…”

 

“Ah,
gotcha.”  I turned the burner off and pulled out plates.  “Vince, can you set?”

 

“Yep..” 
He leaned in and kissed me, giving my backside a slow pull, sending a burn
through my belly.

 

Jack
stifled a smile.

 

I
turned to him.  “What?”

 

“Nothing…
I guess I just never pictured Vince to be so domesticated.  Don’t get me wrong…
I love it.  He’s finally got a girl that I like.  Not like that crazy bitch.”

 

Melora. 
I almost forgot about her.

 

Vince
flinched noticeably.  I saw it in his face.  “Let’s not say ‘the M word’ at the
dinner table, huh, Jackie?”

 

“I’m
just saying, this is great.  I can tell it’s real.  I like it.”

 

“It
is
real,” Vince answered.  “I’m gonna
marry
her.”

 

Now
it was my turn to flinch.  “Whoa, cowboy.  Let’s just try to get through
chicken without getting hitched.”  My face was heated.  I could feel my cheeks
burning.  The worst part?  I could picture
all
of it.  A small wedding,
family, friends, a baby. 
It was terrifying.

 

*

 

Dinner
with Vince was always great.  Dinner with Vince
and
Jack was fantastic. 
They talked endlessly, laughed a lot and told stories about growing up.  Belle
was a high school music teacher, but had retired a few years back.  Anthony
owned his own business; he was a tailor and had been since the boys were
young.  He was also in a fairly well-known jazz band when he was younger,
playing all over Chicago.  He still played now, but mostly fill-ins, according
to Vince.

 

“So,
is that where you two got your interest in music?  I don’t even know what you
play, Jack.”

 

“Well,
a little bit of everything, I guess, but in the band, I played bass.  My dad
played the stand-up, so that’s what I first learned.  Then he bought me a bass
guitar and taught me how to play that.  But my mom’s real love was piano, so
she pushed that shit on
both
of us.”

 

“He’s
being modest.  He was the fucking singer of the band.  And a
great
singer
at that,” he answered, beaming at his younger brother.  “But yeah, she pretty
much made us practice until our fingers bled.”

 

“You
never told me you played piano.  Only guitar.”

 

“You
never asked.” 

 

I
really have to get better at that.

 

“Are
you any good?”

 

“I
guess,” Vince answered.  “I haven’t played in years, but I can still read music. 
It’s not like I could fit a piano in any of my apartments to practice.”

 

“I
have one,” I blurted.

 

“Where?”

 

“It’s
in storage.  My dad played and when he died, my mom put it in a unit.  I think
she just missed him too much and it reminded her of him.”

 

“I
thought he died like twenty years ago.”

 

“He
did, but my mom didn’t want it near her, I guess.  So, it’s just basically sat
in that place this whole time.  Anyway, she told me I could have it if I
wanted, but I just never got it moved.  It’s still in Naperville.”

 

“Let’s
have it shipped,” he said immediately.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yeah,
seriously.”

 

“Um,
okay.  I guess I could call the storage facility and have something worked
out.”

 

“This
week… I’ll pay.”

 

“Why
this
week?”

 

“I
haven’t played for my mom in a million years.  She would love it.”

 

I
smiled.  “Okay, it’s done.  I’ll call Monday.”

 

*

 

Jack
headed back to Chicago on Sunday morning after breakfast.  He had told us that
morning that he was thinking of selling his house in Edgewater… said it was
“too far from everything.”  I wondered if “everything” was code for “Elsa.”

 

Vince
and I decided to go to his apartment for the day and spend some time putting
things away.  We also toyed with the idea of painting his bedroom. 

 

I
had once read about painting rooms the color of the sky so that it would mimic
a beach.  He said that blue was for little boys and he needed an
adult
color.  We settled on a shade of dark gray called “Kendall Charcoal.”  We also needed
to repaint his trim white.  It looked as though it hadn’t been touched up for
at least a few tenant cycles.

 

We
stared at the ceiling, lying on his bed.

 

“Do
we
have
to paint today?”  He was whining.

 

“No,
I just said that we
could
if you wanted.  You think
I
want to
paint?  Sheee-ah.  I hate painting more than I hate moving.”

 

“Let’s
get a fucking Groupon and have someone else do it.”

 

“I
like where your head’s at, Conti.  Want to watch TV or something?”

 

“I
have a better idea,” he whispered, rolling towards me.  He placed a light kiss
to my shoulder.  “We could spend the day doing house stuff… or…”

 

He
trailed his fingers down my stomach, stopping at the button on my shorts.  He
popped it open and slowly ran his fingertips under the elastic of my
underwear. 

 

I
propped up on my elbows and stayed silent, watching his movements.  He slid off
of the bed and kneeled in front of me, dragging the cotton down my legs and over
my wedges, dropping them at the floor. 

 

“Why
are you wearing high heels on painting day, baby?”  He brushed the insides of
my thighs with his lips.

 

“They
aren’t high heels,” I breathed, noting that my voice went a little high.  “They’re
just… wedges.” 
Yeah, definitely an octave higher.

 

“Well,”
he said, “they are staying on.”

 

Vince
pulled at my underwear, taking his time with them.  Teasing me.  Dragging them
down my thighs inch by inch. 
Oh God, oh God, oh God. 
“You make me
so
hard, Rachel.  I could come without touching you.”

 

I
stared down at him.  “Please.” 
What was I begging for?

 

“Please
what
, honey?”  He pulled the last inch of material, sending it on top of
my shorts.

 

I
breathed heavier, but stayed silent.

 

“Please
what
, Ray?  You want me to do
this
?”  He placed one light kiss on
the inside of my thigh.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Or
this?”  He brushed his lips to the other side.

 

“Yes.” 
Oh God, just get on with it, Vince!

 

“Or
this
?”  He took his time, torturing me with his tongue and lips, working
my body into a frenzy.  He pushed his fingers into me slowly… he was making me absolutely
nuts.  I gripped his hair, threw my heeled feet over his shoulders and screamed
his name. 
Oh, I knew I was being a huge slut.
 

 

I
never acted like this with Ryan.  Never. 
What the hell was wrong with me?

 

He
rose to his feet, keeping my ankles elevated on his shoulders, pushing the
backs of my thighs with his hands.  He slid into me slowly.  This position was
almost uncomfortable. 
Not so uncomfortable that I made him stop.  Oh, no,
of course not.

BOOK: 186 Miles
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