Every Way (The Brush Of Love Series, #4) Read online

  “Can I get you anything?” Bryan asked. “You didn’t eat much at dinner.”

  “Not very hungry,” I said as I turned on the water.

  “You know I’ll always stand by you, right?” he asked.

  “I know.”

  “No matter what.”

  “I get it,” I said.

  “Do you want to talk?” he asked.

  “No, Bryan. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to talk about the fact that your mother only wants to be a part of things if she can control them. I don’t want to talk about the fact that my budding relationship with your father makes me want my father around too. I don't want to talk about the fact that our child will never have stable relationship with their grandparents, and I certainly don’t want to talk about how I wish I could throw your mother into a flaming volcano.”

  “Does it have to be flaming?” Bryan asked.

  I allowed a giggle to slip through my lips as I stepped into the warm water of the bath.

  “Look, our child is going to have us. And who knows what’ll happen with your parents in the next year or two? You guys are still talking even though they haven’t come to visit yet. Maybe you just need to build up that bond with them again.”

  “I guess,” I said.

  “Maybe they want to give you time to digest the fact that they’re back in your life. They were here a lot when you were battling cancer. Maybe they want to give you some distance.”

  “But I’m pregnant. And there are just times where I want my mom,” I said.

  “Have you told her that?” Bryan asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “Then how can you expect them to know that?”

  “Because she’s my mother. Isn’t that what happens? Mothers read their daughters’ minds or something?” I asked.

  “No,” Bryan said, chuckling. “That’s not how it works. Ever.”

  “How would you know? You’re not a girl.”

  “By the same principle, fathers should be able to read their sons’ minds.”

  “Nope, not how that works.”

  “And why not?” he asked.

  “Because men are stupid.”

  “I love it when you pout,” he said.

  Bryan leaned over to put a kiss on the tip of my nose, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. I pulled him into the bath, giggling as he tried to catch himself on the edge. His clothes were soaked, and his hair was matted to his face. But all I did was spread my legs so I could hold him closer to me. He turned around in my arms and caressed my skin, pulling goosebumps up all over my body as I looked deeply into his eyes. I saw my home when I looked at him. I felt alive when I was against him. No matter what we had endured and no matter what had been done to us by the other, I knew we were destined to be together.

  I knew he was the man for me.

  “Besides,” Bryan said, “I think I’m going to like not having dinner at my parents’ any longer.”

  “Oh, you will, huh?” I asked.

  “I think we should designate their dinner nights as our nights. One night a month, you and me, no matter what happens between us.”

  “And what will happen with at this ‘us night’?” I asked.

  “I can think of a few things,” Bryan said, grinning.

  “But what’ll we do with the rest of the night?” I asked.

  “Who told you I couldn’t go all night?”

  Bryan pressed his lips to mine as his hands wrapped around my body. I giggled into his skin, allowing the events from dinner to fall to the recesses of my mind. Bryan gathered me against his body and leaned toward the other side of the tub, spreading his legs wide to make room for my growing body. I lost myself in him. I lost myself in the feel of him. I allowed myself to pretend everything was okay. I allowed myself to believe that my parents were only giving me space and that Dorothy didn't hate me and that this child would come into a functioning, healthy family that would love it and cherish it no matter what it did.

  I allowed myself that dream until my lips disconnected from Bryan's. But like always, reality set back in.

  “What happens if no one comes back?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what if Dorothy never apologizes? What if she takes Michael from us? What if my parents never come back?” I asked.

  “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Bryan said. “They’ll come around. I promise.”

  “And if they don’t?” I asked.

  “Hailey—”

  “Just humor me. If they don’t?”

  “Then they’ll have Uncle Drew and Aunt Anna to love them and cherish them,” he said.

  And somehow, that lightened the load that had settled around my heart.

  Chapter 5

  Bryan

  I was trying my best to keep myself contained for Hailey’s sake, but inside, I was fuming at my mother. Where the hell did she come off saying the things she did? I was astounded. There was no way in this world she was intervening in everything. Nor was she going to sit there and make the love of my life feel less than the beautiful, outstanding woman she was. And even though Hailey was calm now against my body, I was still having to talk myself down from my anger.

  “I feel bad,” Hailey said.

  “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick? Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?”

  “No, Bryan,” she said with a snicker. “About dinner. I feel bad.”

  “Why?” I asked. “You did nothing wrong.”

  “I just feel like maybe the tension was my fault.”

  “Hailey, look at me.” I watched my beautiful pregnant wife raise her eyes to look at me as the water around us encompassed our bodies.

  “There is nothing you did wrong. The blame is on my mother. Not you. The things she said to you were out of line. Honestly? I’m still reeling a bit from the shock.”

  “I know. I thought we were over all of this,” she said.

  “Me, too. With all the things my father found out, I thought this would put us on a path to healing. My father has accepted it, that my brother’s death had been a murder. I’ve accepted it, for the most part. But my mother ... I don’t think she has.”

  “I think it made her angrier,” she said. “And rightfully so. That was her baby boy, and she had it in her mind that his death was his own doing. Now that she knows it’s not, she’s probably thinking she could’ve done something about it.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s not worth thinking about. Just because she can’t accept it doesn’t mean she gets to take her anger out on others the way she did over dinner. I need you to know that dinner was not your fault, Hailey. Not by a long shot.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  I cupped Hailey’s cheek and brought her lips to mine. I could feel her body pressing into me, her growing curves blanketing my body. My clothes were heavy with water, and my hair was plastered to my forehead, but the way her body molded to mine began to heat my skin. Our tongues swiped together, and our lips danced in harmony. A glorious routine that had given rise to the child growing within Hailey. I wrapped my arms around her as much as I could and pulled her deeper into me, feeling our child kick against my abdomen.

  “No matter what,” I said into her lips, “I’ll always pick you.”

  “Thank you,” Hailey said breathlessly.

  “I love you. You are my other half, the woman I was destined to be with, and nothing will come between that, not even my mother.”

  “I love you so much,” she said.

  “And I love you.” Our kissing turned heated, and I could feel her nipples puckering against my skin. My hands worked to rid myself of my clothing, straining my muscles as I peeled them off my body. I grew harder as Hailey stood, her body naked and bare for me as my eyes scanned her. She was the most beautiful creation alive, a piece of artwork being molded in front of my eyes. Her stomach sat high, and her stretch marks were purple, painting beautiful colors across her pale skin. Her thighs were thick with love, and
her breasts were swinging freely, beckoning to my lips as I stood to meet her gaze.

  I helped her out of the bathtub and led her to the bed, my eyes never leaving hers.

  “You are gorgeous,” I said.

  “Stop it,” she said, giggling.

  “A work of art to be praised.” My lips lowered to her neck, and I could hear her groan at the contact. My hands slid along her body, cupping her breasts and massaging them slowly. She sighed with relief as the aches and pains left her body, and the tension in the lines of her sleek muscles began relaxing as my lips traveled down. I kissed every open part of her. Every curve, every dip, and every stretch mark. I ran my tongue across the purple pastures of her body and dipped my fingers into the crease of her thighs. She was rolling into me, her hands tangled in the wet tendrils of my hair as I nipped at her luscious thighs.

  “So beautiful,” I whispered. “So perfect.”

  I kissed her thighs and up her side, leaning her over so she was comfortable. I slid behind her, my hand massaging her beautiful bosom as my cock slid between her legs. She was drenched and waiting, her hips rolling back into me. I could feel myself leaking against her, ready for the warmth and comfort her body could provide me.

  I kissed her shoulder as I slid in, her walls beckoning me in as she groaned into the night.

  “You are breathtaking,” I said in her ear. “A dedicated monument to all the women of this world who have carried children.”

  “Oh, Bryan. This feels so good.”

  “You are delicious,” I said as I pumped into her. “Like a table of desserts ready to be devoured.”

  Her hand reached back and found my head, guiding my lips to her neck. That was what she loved the most, my lips suckling her skin while I slowly thrust into her. Her passion had become tamed with her pregnancy. She found herself more intimate than animalistic. And I loved it. I loved pressing my body deep into hers and taking a slow pace. I loved how lazy our sex had become, how easy it was to please her and how wonderfully she shook at the slightest movements.

  My hips rolled deeply, hitting parts of her I rarely did as her legs began to shake.

  “I want to hear you say it,” I said.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I want you to say you’re beautiful.”

  “I’m so close. Please, Bryan.”

  “Say it, and I’ll let you.” My hand released her breast and traveled down to her glistening folds. I parted her with my fingers as she moaned, her hips rolling down to find any sort of friction. I pulled myself from between her legs, with nothing but the head of my cock seated within her body. She was trembling for me. Panting as her body flushed with wanton lust.

  It was the most beautiful look on her, and I smiled as I kissed her shoulder.

  “Bryan, please,” she said, panting.

  “Tell me you’re beautiful,” I said. “Just say it. Preach your truth.”

  “I-I’m beautiful,” she said.

  “Say it again.”

  “I’m beautiful.”

  “One more time.”

  “Damn it, Bryan. I’m beautiful. I’m gorgeous. I’m—oh.”

  I slid into her deeply, pressing my fingers into her clit. I kept a steady pace, timing my circling with my thrusts. Her legs were quaking, and her chest was panting. Her skin was flushed a beautiful pink hue that contrasted the purple streaked across her stomach. I held her close, sucking love bites on her shoulder as my thickness grew against her walls. She was massaging me so perfectly, her ass cradling me as her hands curled into the locks of my hair.

  “Please. I’m so close.”

  I pulled out and slammed into her one last time before she leaped over the edge. Her body pulled me deep into its warmth, massaging my girth as my legs tensed. She was shaking against me, her toes curling as her nails raked against my scalp. I could feel myself spilling into her, marking her as mine as I moaned her name into her skin. I could hear my name dripping from Hailey’s lips as her pleasure coursed through her system.

  “I love you,” I said. “I love you so much.”

  Our bodies came down from our highs as I stayed sheathed between her legs. She was panting, her back expanding against my tired chest. I brought my fingers to my lips, tasting her as I moaned relentlessly in her ear.

  “You’re insane,” she said breathlessly.

  “Insane for you,” I said.

  She pushed herself back into me as I raised the covers up over our bodies. She felt warm and inviting, like a weighted blanket or a child’s favorite stuffed animal. I nuzzled into her as the blanket settled over our bodies, my arms pulling her as close as I could get her. Hailey was my world, the reason I got up in the mornings. She kept me going during the hard times and was worth every battle we had encountered up to this point. No matter what I had done and no matter what she felt she had done to me, the only thing that mattered was that we’d ended up here together, married, in love, and expecting our first child.

  “Goodnight, beautiful,” I said into her ear.

  “Mmmm, night.”

  Chapter 6

  Hailey

  The bell above my gallery door rang, and I peered up from the cash register. There was a man walking in, and he didn’t look friendly. He had ghostly pale skin and an uneven scruff on his face. His brown hair was disheveled, even matted in some places. His clothes were dirty, and his teeth were yellow, and he practically snarled at me as he approached the register. He was tall, looming over me as I took a step back from him. His presence made me nervous, and I stuck my hand in my pocket and hovered it over the emergency call button.

  He didn’t seem like the kind of man who was interested in art, but I didn’t want to prejudge him. Everyone was welcome in here until they proved they didn’t deserve to be here. I looked into his eyes. His bright, hazel eyes. They were full of malice and contempt like someone had angered him and he was about to let them know it.

  There was something familiar about his eyes.

  But, once he got halfway across the gallery room, his eyes diverted from me. They locked onto the paintings on the wall, and I relaxed a little. He was walking around the room, taking everything in as he tracked in dirt. I tried to push my preconceived notions of him to the back of my mind. For now, he seemed genuinely interested in the art on the wall, so I sat down on a small stool in the corner and watched him.

  “Who painted these?” the man asked.

  He was pointing to the pair of John’s paintings I kept loaning out to places for display.

  “His name was John McBride.”

  “Lot of pain in these paintings,” he said.

  “Mr. McBride dealt with a lot of pain. Loss. Substance abuse. He climbed out of a very deep, dark hole. You’re the first person who’s ever looked at these and latched onto the pain behind them. I’m impressed.”

  “Substance abuse, huh?” the man asked. “You know what kind?”

  “Heroin mostly,” I said. “He was using his art to recover, taking classes to try and express himself again through a medium that brought him comfort.”

  The man’s voice was gruff like tire trucks scraping over gravel rocks. I scanned his body again and noticed his fingernails. They were dirty and caked in dust and oil. I was curious about the man and about how he had come to know about this gallery. Was he looking for something? Understanding maybe? He seemed to be very perceptive of John’s work, and it made me wonder if the two had anything in common.

  “How much are these paintings worth?” the man asked.

  “They aren’t for sale,” I said.

  “I didn’t ask if they were. I was just asking if they were worth anything,” he said.

  “They’re priceless,” I said.

  “Interesting.”

  He continued walking around the gallery and that uneasy feeling returned. I sat back down on my seat and slid my hand back into my pocket. The man’s eyes were glossed over like he wasn’t really all there. He walked around the gallery and took in the rest of the paint
ings, but then he ended up back in front of that pair of pictures.

  “Seen these in the newspaper,” he said.

  “I loan them out to places in town so they can display them.”

  “Must mean they’re worth something.”

  Why in the world was this man so intent on knowing the price of these pictures?

  “Like I said. They’re priceless.”

  “Maybe I could take one off your hands,” he said.

  “They aren’t for sale,” I said.

  “They should be. You owe me a lot of money.”

  I furrowed my brow as I took in his words. I owed him money? I didn’t even know who this guy was! I felt my hands beginning to tremble as the man turned his gaze to me. I figured out why his gaze looked so familiar and why his glossed-over eyes made me so nervous.

  The man was high, and judging by the state of his clothes, he was also homeless.

  “Sir. I have no idea who you are or what you’re talking about, but you obviously have me confused with someone else.”

  “Hailey McBride, right? The woman with the small art shop in Los Angeles?”

  My blood froze in my veins as a grin grew on the man’s disgusting face.

  “Get out,” I said.

  “I don’t believe that’s any way to treat a customer,” he said. “One of these paintings will do just fine.”

  “I’m not giving you a damn thing. Now get out. Immediately.”

  “It’s your fault he’s dead, you know.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “John.”

  I felt all the blood drain from my face as my hand grew weak around my phone. The world had stopped spinning, and I felt like I was floating in the air. I couldn’t get my fingers to move. No matter how much I screamed for them to press the damn button, I couldn’t get them to budge. The man slowly approached the cash register, his arm leaning against the counter. I could feel bile rising up my throat, tainted with the disgusting decaf coffee I had choked down this morning to try and feel normal.

  “Your ex-boyfriend caused my family a lot of heartache,” the man said.

  “We weren’t dating,” I said.