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“Jesus, why the fuck is it you?”
This time, it was my turn to laugh. “Like I’m not thinking the same shit about you. Would be easier if you weren’t so fucking hot.”
He didn’t look my way, but I could have sworn his cheeks tinged a slight pink. Would you look at that. Patrick Whitt was blushing. “That why you pretended to hate me your whole life?”
“Oh no. I did hate you…but I also didn’t know you,” I admitted. “You made it easy to hate you because you were always putting on a show.” And he still did in some ways. Maybe Patrick thought he wanted people to hate him. I’d prove to him it didn’t have to be that way.
LA traffic was a bitch like always, but we distracted ourselves the whole driveby talking about shit that didn’t matter.
I’d been right before when I’d imagined that Patrick’s house was in the Hollywood Hills.
This sure as shit wasn’t somewhere I ever thought I would be. “You hungry?” he asked again, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was nervous. You couldn’t tell it by looking at him, but then, he was good at keeping secrets.
“Yeah, I could eat. What do you got?”
We ended up grilling some chicken in his backyard, with his pool out in front of us, sipping on a cold beer while the food cooked.
“You guys have always been close? You and your family?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. My bio dad was a real piece of work. He didn’t give a damn about us. He treated my mom like shit and bailed on her. Never saw us, never paid a cent of child support or anything. It was real hard on my mom. She had me and Kayla when he bounced the fuck out. Eventually, she met Steven. He was fucking great. He came into a ready-built family, but he never treated me or Kayla like we were anything but his kids, even after Zuri and Savanna came along. There wasn’t a difference in how he parented his biological daughters compared to us. We never had money, ya know, but it was the first time in Mom’s life she didn’t have to kill herself to make ends meet. He’s my pops if you ask me. Fucking broke us all when he died.”
It was strange talking to Patrick about things like this. I never would have let him in this way when we were younger, would have felt like it made me weak in his eyes or something. Back then, I’d thought he had everything—money, the perfect family—but he hadn’t—not the family part at least, and what the hell good did money do you if you didn’t have people around who showed they loved you? In that way, I’d been richer than him.
“I’m sorry that you lost him.”
“Yeah, me too,” I replied. “Wish he could have seen me…wish he knew how hard I’ve worked and what I became. I just want to make him proud. Want him to know I’m taking care of mom and my sisters—not that they need it, but yeah, I hope wherever the fuck he is out there, he knows.”
“He does,” Whitt replied. “I don’t know how I feel about what happens after we die, but he’s proud of you, and he knows you’re taking care of them.”
My mouth pulled into a smile, one that I couldn’t hold back, even if I wanted to. Fuck, I liked hearing shit like that from him, believed what he said because it was Patrick who said it.
“Did I ever tell you about Andre?” I asked.
His brows pulled together. “Who the hell is that?”
I clutched my stomach, laughing. “Clearly, we’re both jealous SOBs. Here.” I pulled up a photo on my phone and showed it to him.
“Cousin or something?”
“Nah. I do that big-brother type of program. I don’t get to see Andre as much as I’d like, but we hang out as often as we can. He’s a great kid. Fucking genius. I wish I had his brains, but yeah, part of me does that so I can be a Steven to someone else…”
“I…” He gave me the softest smile I had ever seen from him. “That’s incredible. I don’t know what to say.”
“Yeah? First, you say my dad is proud of me, and now this. Damn, you’re sweet.”
“Fuck you,” he groaned, and then I was surprised when he lunged at me. We tumbled off the chairs and onto the concrete, wrestling each other. It wasn’t something I’d expected, so he got the best of me, Whitt on top of me, his boy next door smile shining through. He was so fucking different than anything I’d thought he would be.
“Gotta catch me off guard to beat me,” I threw his direction while I thrust up to try and buck him off, then rolled us so he was beneath me.
We went at it for a few minutes, rolling around, each of us giving as well as we could take, when we ended up in the grass, me on top of him again, holding down his arms. This time, Patrick didn’t move, just looked up at me, chest heaving in and out, the blue pools of his eyes locked on me, those perfect bow lips calling my name.
“Christ, I hate that you’re so fucking beautiful.” I leaned down and took his mouth. My tongue swept inside, Patrick opening up for me and inviting me in. My dick got hard, his cock firm against me as we rutted together in the grass, tongues tangling and hard bodies pressed together.
I loved that he nearly matched me, that he was almost as tall as me. Though not as broad and big, he still held his own in ways women or the other men I’d been with didn’t.
I kissed my way down his neck, then shoved my hand in his shorts, wrapping my fist around his dick and stroking him.
“Fuck.” He thrust up and into my palm.
