Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

JAMES

"Ican do that," she agreed, maybe a little too quickly.

She surprised me by being so compliant, but her willingness only served as a turn-on for me. I wasn’t complaining. Her eyes flicked over me as she studied my face, probably searching for answers about my motivations for asking her to join me at my parents’. I wasn’t ready to do much beyond taking care of her right now, but the spark of an idea had taken root in my head anyway.

Something that would probably never fucking work.

But man, I wanted it to.

I didn’t have the answers, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to jinx everything by rushing in half-cocked. Which was never my problem around Winter. Ever. My dick was of the fully cocked variety if in the same room with her. Telling me she loved me last night wasn’t helping in the sense of trying to keep everything cool and moving slowly. My heart was screaming one thing and my head another. Caution was a trait I’d adopted as a way to survive in my world, and I needed it now.

At least Thanksgiving dinner with my father, something I’d dreaded for weeks, was now a meeting I actually looked forward to. Which was a novelty. I wanted to see the look on his face once he realized who I’d brought with me. I wouldn’t offer a sliver of an explanation to him either. Let him try and figure out what was going on without benefit of the whole backstory for once. My father wasn’t going to be allowed to control my future. As long as I had breath in my body, any decisions regarding my life were my own.

Winter didn’t even hesitate in agreeing to go with me. In fact, she’d gone along with every one of my demands since I’d started handing them down this morning—which only made her all the more irresistible. I could no longer mistake her consistent signals for what they truly were: naturally submissive behaviors. My thoughts flashed to an image of her bound naked to my bed, her body splayed out for me to worship. I felt my mouth begin to water, and everything below the waist start to tighten.

Off-the-charts-fucking sexy was how she appeared in my fleeting fantasy. I had to keep reminding myself that’s all it was. A glorious fantasy.

For now.

And I’d thought I was attracted to Winter before last night. My inner Dom was dying to meet her inner sub with a craving so intense I feared how things might eventually play out. I’d never felt this way about any other woman before. Not Leah. Not anyone.

My previous belief that Winter and I weren’t suited was quickly going down in flames, and I was running out of reasons to keep a distance. Especially when she looked at me like she was doing right now with her sexy eyes melting through my resistance like a hot knife into butter.

I told my conscience to fuck off and leave me alone for the day.

"You’re amazing, Winter Blackstone." It was the truth.

"I am?" She appeared genuinely surprised.

"Oh yes, you are."

"How am I amazing, James?" The corner of her mouth lifted in a tiny smile.

Mostly you’re amazing because you love me."Well, for you to be so happy and caring of others after the night you had is damn amazing," I told her. "You’ve never complained, not one time. You let me take care of you last night, and you’re coming with me today so I can keep an eye on you. And you’re doing it willingly." And you love me. I picked up her bandaged hand carefully and brought it to my lips for a gentle kiss. "I rest my case."

She blushed at the praise, which only served to bring my cock to full attention. Again, not a surprise, but it helped me understand something about Winter that I’d suspected all those years ago on the day of her fifteenth birthday party.

She wasn’t acting.

There was no artifice or deceit in her behavior.

Winter was simply unaware of how beautiful she was.

And she loves me.

Holdingon to any shred of self-control became my one and only goal when she needed help to get ready.

"This is making you uncomfortable, isn’t it?" she asked in a small voice.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" I managed through gritted teeth as I did the hooks on the back of her bra.

When she’d called me into her bedroom, I really didn’t know what I expected. I guess I wasn’t thinking much at all beyond getting to have her with me today.

It shouldn’t have surprised me, though. I’d showed her the surgical gloves she had to wear on her hand when she showered, because her cut needed to remain dry in order to heal. I knew her hand was sore, and her range of motion limited, so twisting fingers behind her back to fasten tiny hooks tightly into corresponding loops wasn’t possible for her to manage alone. It wasn’t rocket science to figure out her need for assistance was real, but my dumbass brain practically shorted out when I walked in there and got a good look at her in some sexy-as-fuck black lingerie.

Her silky hair flowed down her back and shoulders in soft waves, taking my line of sight directly to her legs in black thigh-high stockings topped with some kind of high-waist garment that did amazing things to her already amazing ass. She shyly looked over her shoulder at me and asked if I would fasten the hooks of her bra for her.

I was fairly sure I groaned out loud.

I could do this.

Yeah, asshole, keep telling yourself that.

Easier said than done when all that stood between my hands and her beautiful body was…nothing. I could smell her orangey scent again and fought the urge to put my lips to her shoulder and have a taste. I’d never be able to stop if I went that far, so I pushed those thoughts aside as best I could.

"I can just tell," she said. "I’m monopolizing your time, and now you’re having to help me with everything and even watch over me at Thanksgiving, on a day when you should be with your own family." She sounded sad. What the hell?

"Hey"—I finished the last hook and turned her around to face me—"let’s make one thing crystal clear right now. When I’m with you my time is never monopolized. I’m glad I was the one to help you last night. I want you with me today for Thanksgiving with my family. You know how things are between my dad and me, and this year will be a lot less torturous having you there to help defuse him." I smiled at her. "I might even be looking forward to today a lot more than I was yesterday."

She smiled back. "Really, James?"

"Really, Winter." If she only knew how true it was.

"Okay then," she said with another shy smile.

I should’ve walked out right then.

I should’ve done a lot of things differently in my life.

Instead, I looked her over from head to toe and tried to freeze-frame the image of her in my head. So fucking beautiful and sweet, standing serenely for me in sexy black silk and lace…

She cleared her throat softly, bringing my delectable little eye-fuck to a crashing halt.

Our eyes met and held. What did she think of me staring at her mostly naked? This girl told me she loved me several times last night. Did she really love me? Did the heat of some well-delivered orgasms she didn’t even remember change that? Had she meant it when she said it?

God, I hoped so.

"I’ll let you finish dressing while I run upstairs and get what I need to take today." Which was code for: I really want to help you out of your sexy lingerie and spend the day giving you more orgasms, but I know I can’t, so I’m leaving right now.

She nodded once and asked, "What are you taking?"

"Flowers for my mom, a bottle of Bowmore 25 for my father, and…you." I kissed her on the forehead because I couldn’t help myself.

She stilled when my lips touched her skin.

I inhaled the luscious scent of her, and got the fuck out of her bedroom before I did or said anything else.

Those two littlekids loved her. Shane and Brenna. Winter loved them, too. Anyone could look at them together and see the mutual bond. When we arrived at the youth center, I held my tongue at the less-than desirable location in Roxbury. I knew Brooke volunteered once a week now Winter had brought her aboard, and Caleb made sure his girl came and went with his driver, Isaac, who had standing orders to stay and wait the whole time she was there. I wondered what Caleb thought of his sister being at the youth center on the other days all alone. If he wouldn’t let his girlfriend do it, then why was he okay with Winter coming here? I wouldn’t let Victoria come here alone. Mind you, she’d fight me on it, so I’d simply bring Clay into the fight.

I’d have to broach the subject with him in a way that didn’t bring attention to my interest in her. Winter would not be happy with sanctions on her freedom, but if it wasn’t safe for her to drive in on her own, then too fucking bad. Her safety was far more important to me than her displeasure.

"Did you hurt your hand, Miss Winter?" the little girl asked curiously with a gentle pat on the bandage. The boy, Shane, looked up at her expectantly from the other side. Both of them rushed toward her the moment we walked into the large room full of homeless and otherwise, people living out the not-so-great American dream and scarfing down free turkey and stuffing. The kids were cute, in a disheveled way. They appeared mostly clean, but there was definitely a look of neglect about them. They looked like children who didn’t have anyone taking care of them, which was probably pretty accurate from what Winter had told me. How do they get here? Safely? They’re so…small.

I watched as she gave them hugs, and then bustled them over to what looked like a classroom of sorts—probably where kids did their homework when they used the center after school. There was a poster of multiplication facts, and a few others with things like basic grammar rules and the periodic table stuck to the walls. Plastic tubs with pencils and crayons, and what I guessed were art supplies, were stacked neatly on a rolling cart. The whiteboard had a smiling turkey drawn on it with HAPPY THANKSGIVING written as a greeting. Despite the shabbiness of the space, it was comfortable, and probably a much more enticing place to be than wherever the kids "lived" with their train-wreck "families."

Winter seemed to be going for somewhere a little more private and away from where people were eating as she sat on a sofa and settled the kids on either side of her. She placed the container of cookies on the small table in front of the sofa but didn’t open it.

"Yes, I had an accident in my kitchen last night, and that’s why I’m late today. My friend helped me get here, because I promised to bring you something." The kids looked at me in acknowledgement as I gave them a smile and a clown wave. They turned their attention right back to Winter as if to say, yeah, you brought her to us, and now your work is done, buddy.

"What did you do?" Shane asked.

"I burned my hand on a hot pan and also cut myself with a sharp knife," Winter answered honestly. She censored her story enough to convey the facts without making it sound too terrifying. I was impressed with how good she was at communicating with six-year-old humans, if I remembered their age correctly.

Someday she will make an amazing mom.

My father’s edict crashed into my peaceful observations unwanted, stealing the good thoughts away from me. I hated that he held the power to ruin something pure and good in an instant.

Don’t let him.

"Your kitchen is a very dangerous place, Miss Winter," Brenna said, her brother nodding vigorously in agreement. It certainly was last night, kid. "Did your boyfriend put this on you?" she asked, touching the bandage with the tip of her finger.

"Oh, he’s not—" Winter blushed as we shared brief eye contact. "My f-friend, Mr. James took me to the doctor who put it on me." She focused her attention back on the children and their questions, but I could tell she was flustered.

Winter flustered…another fucking turn-on. God.

I also had a craving for Brenna’s innocent comment to be true.

If two little kids were making her nervous asking if we were a couple, then whatever shit my father might insinuate later on today might send her screaming for the hills. She would need reassuring. And I would give it to her.

"Well, he’s a boy." Brenna gave me a sideways glance. "And you said he’s your friend, so he’s your boyfriend, right?" This small girl was not going to let it go apparently.

Winter still looked beautifully flustered, and my cock was still throbbing when I decided to take control of the situation. "That’s right. I am her boyfriend."

"My mommy has boyfriends, but not a nice man like you."

Her comment delivered a blow that hit me right in the heart. "How do you know I’m a nice man?" I asked.

"You don’t yell, and you talk in a good way to Miss Winter." Winter and I shared a glance, both of us probably thinking about the reasons she would frame her evaluation of my "niceness" in such a way. Probably didn’t have much experience with men speaking in a "good" way if what Winter suspected about the mom was true. I couldn’t imagine Brenna and Shane, two innocent kids with their whole lives ahead of them, being subjected to such desperate conditions, but it was staring me right in the face regardless. Life was a shitty existence for more people than it was a good one.

"Is your mom here with you?" I wanted to get a look at this woman and make up my own mind.

"She brought us for the Thanksgiving but she had to go to her job. She’ll come back when her job is over." Shane volunteered the information as if he’d already answered the question more than once today. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of "job" his mother was doing either. Selling herself to some degenerate pig…one fuck or blow job at a time. The whole situation was so wrong.

"Well, I’m glad I got the chance to meet you both today. Miss Winter really wanted to make sure you got your special gift she made for you guys."

"The chocolate-chip cookies?" he asked with a big smile.

"That’s right," Winter answered as she opened the box and offered them each a cookie.

Their eyes lit up when they bit into the delicious treat. I knew how good Winter’s cookies tasted, but it was almost sad seeing these two enjoying something as simple as a homemade cookie. Such a small thing, but so very important to Winter to do for two neglected children with a very dim future based on their current situation. I totally got where her drive to help came from now. She had such a big heart, and I was completely content to watch the three of them as they ate cookies and talked together. She is such a beautiful sight.

"Do either of you know how to use your mom’s cell phone?" she asked nonchalantly.

"She showed us how to do 911 on it," Brenna offered.

"But she said only call it in a ’mergency." Shane nodded seriously as he chewed a mouthful of cookie.

"That’s good you know how to use her phone. In the cookie box is an envelope with a card for your mom. I gave her my number in case you ever need some help, or if you get scared sometime, you can call me." She smiled gently. "Can you make sure your mom gets the envelope from me?"

The kids both said yes and continued focusing on their biggest priority—stuffing their faces with as many chocolate-chip cookies as possible.

"In the envelope is something else for your mom."

"What is it?" Brenna asked.

"It’s grown-up stuff for her, but it’s really important that you don’t lose it…or show it to anyone else but your mom."

Both kids listened, watching intently as she drew out a small blue envelope from the side of the cookie box. She pointed to the phone number written in black marker across the front. "That’s my phone number, and we’re going to play a number game with it in a minute, but first I want to see who has the best pockets."

She made a big show of looking them both over before deciding that Brenna had a button pocket in the skirt of her dress. "We’re going to have Brenna carry this important envelope in her dress pocket where it will be safe until your mom comes to get you. When you are home, you can give it to her and tell her it’s from me, but keep it in Brenna’s pocket until you’re home with your mom, okay?"

"We will," they both answered in unison.

She smiled at both of them and asked, "Who wants to play the phone number game? First one to learn my phone number by heart gets to be Snack Assistant for a week."

The next minutes were spent watching Winter work her magic, teaching two six-year-olds her phone number. Creatively. In less than fifteen minutes, both could recite it from memory perfectly. My God, Winter had some serious skills. She was a true kid-whisperer. I dearly hoped neither of them would ever need to call her for help, but it was comforting to know they had a way to find her if they needed to. Although, that almost put the fear of God in my heart, because if they did call…Winter would go to them.

After we leftthe youth center, it was a bit of a drive to Weston where my parents lived in a big fucking house that I tried to avoid as much as possible. Winter was quiet in the seat beside me, looking and smelling divine, but I sensed something was bothering her.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeeesss," she said slowly from where she was looking out of the window.

"Not very convincing, Win. You just told me a straight-up lie. Now you’re going to tell me what’s wrong."

She kept her eyes trained out the window at the autumn landscape as we flew along I-90 toward Weston.

"Winter?"

"I did something I wasn’t supposed to do with Shane and Brenna." She sounded worried.

"What, giving out your phone number to a kid is a crime now?"

"No, giving them my phone number was fine."

"Then what was so wrong?"

She paused, her facial expression definitely etched with guilt and stress. "I gave them money. Inside the envelope was a gift card to Target and some money for their mom," she said in a small voice. "You know, so she could buy them some shoes that fit and don’t have holes in the soles, and warm clothes…and new coats."

"Oh." On the surface it didn’t seem like it was that big of an infraction, but in any business operating with government funds, the rules were hard and fast. "How much money did you put in the envelope?"

"All of the cash I had in my wallet."

"Which was how much, Win?" She didn’t want to tell me...

She sighed heavily and then she answered. "Two hundred and some odd dollars."

"Shit."

"I know."

"And the gift card was for how much?" I asked.

She sighed heavily before answering. "Five."

"Please tell me you mean ’five’ as in the number of fingers on one hand." I knew it wouldn’t be as soon as the words left my mouth.

"Hundred." She wiped under her eye as if she might be brushing away a tear. "It’s just…they need help so badly, and the rules make it next to impossible for me to do anything for them that might actually do some good. I have money, far more than one person could ever need, and I could put some of it to good use if my hands weren’t tied working within the stupid system." She sighed heavily and threw her head back into the headrest of the seat. "I fucking hate it."

"So, if you had the opportunity to do your own thing, what would it be?" I asked the question, but I had a pretty good idea where this was going.

"I would start my own program for mothers and children—something like a private shelter where the decisions wouldn’t be dictated by a governmental agency, but guided by a board of directors with the same vested interests as mine. Essentially, I’d be able to help whomever I wanted to help." Which she would.

"So, what do you need in order to start up something like that?"

"I’ll be qualified with the state in a matter of months, and could therefore run the shelter, but the only thing I don’t have is the money. I need my trust fund money, but I can’t touch it for six more years."

I know how to get you your money.My heart started thumping hard in my chest as I connected the dots. "Have you spoken to Caleb about your idea?"

She shook her head. "I’ve thought about it, but I know he’s really busy with running the bulk of everything, plus now he has Brooke. He’s just been so happy for the first time in forever, so I’ve left him alone to enjoy it."

"I am sure he would be willing to help you get something started." Or I could.

"I know he would, but this is something I want to do on my own, you know? For once I’d like to be able to do some good without having to answer to some long list of policies and restrictions."

"You can get into your trust fund before you’re thirty." I couldn’t believe I was actually going there with her, but once I started speaking the words out loud, it was useless trying to rein them back in. "All you have to do is get married, preferably to someone who doesn’t care about your fortune."

She scoffed as she looked over at me in annoyance. "That’s a low blow, even for you, James."

"I’m not talking about someone like Shelton."

"Well, unfortunately I haven’t found this hypothetical man who would marry me so I could tap into my hundred-million-dollar trust, but not want any of it for himself," she said sarcastically. "Like that guy even exists," she mumbled while shaking her head back and forth.

"Oh, he definitely exists, Win."

"And you know this how exactly?"

"Because that guy is me."