Breaking Conviction by Greer Rivers

Chapter Twenty-Four

Define good.

Naomi gulped at the innuendo and wrung her hands as she stared at the text Wes sent her hours earlier. He and the rest of the crew had been gone all day, and all she’d had on her agenda for the weekend was to watch Brave for the trillionth time, worry about her future, and dream about everything that godforsaken text hinted at.

She cursed and stirred the dough harder. Her recipe called for a handheld mixer, but for one thing, apparently bachelors didn’t see the need for one. If she’d known that, she would’ve asked Wes to pick one up when he’d gone shopping for her. Second, it was helping her channel her stress and pent-up… aggression.

Finally, the dough was mixed so well she was doing more harm than good. She hated cookies that weren’t soft and chewy and aerating the dough would do just the opposite.

She grabbed an ice cream scoop—that apparently was an essential item in a bachelor pad— and slammed scoop-sized cookies onto the tray until she got lost in the rhythm.

“What’d the cookie dough ever do to you?”

The ice cream scoop clattered onto the metal sheet and she cursed under her breath before jutting a finger against Wes’s deliciously firm chest.

“You can’t just sneak up on a girl like that!” She returned to the cookies to try to play off how fast her heart was beating, but the only dough left was on the mixing spoon and sides of the bowl.

Wes’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer. “I’m sorry, Naomi, I…”

Naomi watched his full lips move and she could’ve sworn she was listening, but Wes’s actual explanation didn’t register. Instead, she imagined him saying the words of his text message in his baritone. Heated desire crashed over her like a wave.

“I’m trouble… why would I be good, when I can make you feel good instead?”

“Mommy, is you okay?” Thea called from the dining table in her high-pitched voice, pulling Naomi from her trance.

“What, baby?” Naomi grabbed the baking sheet and shoved it into the oven, allowing three hundred and fifty degrees to blast against her face before she stood back up and closed the door. Hopefully, the oven’s heat masked the blush she’d felt coming on. “Yeah, Mommy’s okay. Why would you ask that?”

“‘Cause your mouth was open and your eyes was big and you was starin’ at Wes—”

“O-kay that’s enough, I get your point.” Naomi interrupted, in a higher pitch than usual. When she heard Wes chuckling, she scowled at him.

He held his hands up to the side and scoffed. “Hey, don’t look at me, it’s out of the mouth of babes. I’m just enjoying the show.”

“Is it ‘cause his blue hair’s wet? Wes, Mommy says you have to scrunch your hair with a towel so the curls don’t fizz.”

Wes snorted. “I’ll make sure to towel it off better next time so it doesn’t get fizzy. I just couldn’t wait to see your mom again.”

Naomi rolled her eyes while her heart did that stupid pitter-patter and turned back to her daughter. “Thea, why don’t you take Angus and watch your show in the livin’ room? I’ll bring your cookie when they’re done.”

“‘Kay,” she nodded and her bright red curls brushed over her shoulders as she and her teddy bear, Angus, slid from her dining chair. While awkwardly using Angus to stabilize her crown, Thea watched her iPad and walked to the living room all at the same time.

“Who says preschoolers can’t multitask,” Wes joked and Naomi snorted. When Thea had settled on the couch, Naomi returned her focus back to Wes and whispered.

“How’d… whatever happened today, go?”

She’d meant what she’d said a week ago, that she wanted to remain on a need-to-know basis. That meant she had no idea what Wes had been up to all day, but she was fine with knowing just the end result.

Wes nodded slowly and leaned against the stainless steel fridge and crossed his arms. “It was… successful in some ways. A setback in another.” A shadow passed over his face before he seemingly shook it away. “But no need to worry. Everyone’s safe.”

Naomi nodded. She tamped down that natural curiosity that was bound to get her hurt. It wasn’t in her nature, but in this circumstance, plausible deniability promised a much better outcome judicially speaking if things went south. If she went to jail and left Thea with Dean… she shuddered at the thought.

She wiped her hands over her face and ended by smoothing her dark auburn tresses. “Good. I’m glad everyone’s safe.”

There was a pause and she looked to Wes and his furrowed brow as he watched her.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, snapping her from her reverie. “You seem…”

Turned-on? Horny? Needy?

“... stressed.”

Yup, definitely that one.

She chuckled at her inner thoughts and hopped up to sit her butt on the counter. “There’s just been a lot goin’ on lately.”

He nodded before he stood in front of her. More than anything she wanted to demand he follow through with the text message that she’d been obsessing over all day. But she settled for minutes of comfortable silence as he took her hands in his. He squeezed and she looked up from their connection and into his Arctic blue eyes.

They were so different from everything else about him. A story she wondered if she’d ever learn all the nuances. He was warm and kind, but his eyes made her think there was maybe something cold and dark hidden within. Granted, that was probably just her experience and paranoia more than anything else.

Wes stroked her palm with his thumb, somehow hitting all the nerves in her body that were in charge of desire. There was no telling what Naomi would let this man do to her if she gave into the pulse thrumming between her legs, but she had to get control of herself. Thea was in the next room, for goodness’ sake.

Naomi blew out a breath and collapsed her back against the dark wood of the overhead cabinet. Her legs inadvertently spread a fraction, but she didn’t change her position. Wes’s eyes flashed to hers as he took a small step to stand between her thighs. It felt sneaky, like she was getting away with something, but being around Wes never felt wrong. Quite the opposite. Especially when his fingers started massaging the inside of her palm more insistently, making her bite back a moan.

“Why the hell does that feel so damn good?” The words whispered out of her as she closed her eyes and sank into the relaxation his touch provided.

He gave a knowing chuckle. “We’ve got a lot of pressure points and nerves in our hands. It feels good to find release.”

The words hit Naomi and her eyes snapped open. Wes wasn’t looking at her, but she caught his wicked smile and his skin pinkened from his pale cheeks all the way down his tattooed neck.

She opened her mouth to confront him about the innuendo, but as she did, the timer on the oven dinged.

“Shoot! I completely forgot.”

She pushed him aside and hopped off the cabinet, turning to open the oven. The heat clouded her face and she stood back up, opening, searching and closing every sparse drawer. “Um... where are y’all’s oven mitts?”

Wes cringed. “Honestly, I don’t think we have them.”

She huffed and turned off the oven, leaving the door open to let the heat out. “Well, how am I supposed to get them out? If they stay in there, they’ll burn.”

He frowned. “Okay, hold on.” He reached behind him and tugged the collar of his white T-shirt, sliding it over his head and arms like he’d freakin’ practiced the move that every red-blooded woman fantasized over.

“Wes, what’re you doin’?” Her voice wavered and her eyes widened at his sculpted chest, painted with intricate tattoos that made her mouth water.

He ignored her as he wrapped the shirt around his hand multiple times and bumped her to the side with his hips.

It took her another second until she realized what he was doing and she watched in horror as he tugged the tray from the oven and held on to it long enough just to clatter it to the stovetop. He cursed and tossed the shirt onto the countertop as he wrung his hands.

“Did you just use a T-shirt to get out a three hundred and fifty degree metal pan? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Mommy, don’t say bad words.”

Naomi swiveled her head around to see Thea eyeing her over the couch, her big round headphones laid around her neck.

“Watch your show, baby. Headphones up.”

Thea sighed dramatically before turning and collapsing back into the couch.

“Of course she’d freakin’ perk up for cookies and curse words.” Naomi muttered.

Wes laughed, sucking on a finger. “Kids have a sixth and seventh sense for those things.”

Naomi almost laughed with him until she noticed the redness already creeping over the pads of his fingers.

“Goodness gracious, come here.” Grabbing his hands, she tugged him toward the sink and turned on the cool tap water, testing the temperature before soaking his fingertips. His palms were already an angry red, but as she inspected his injuries, she noticed his knuckles were split and bruised. Without thinking, her finger grazed over one of the small cuts and she shuddered from the memory of the last time she’d seen knuckles like that… the last time she’d felt knuckles like that.

No. This is Wes. He doesn’t have a violent bone in his body.

“Dang, trouble, maybe you should try less to live up to your name and ease up on the boxin’. At least make sure these heal up before you go again.”

“Yeah, um… you’re right,” he murmured and tucked his face away from her as he bent close to the water, like he suddenly felt the need to pay rapt attention to his injuries.

Weird. But it’s not my business. Better to not ask questions.

“Your fingers don’t look too bad, just red. This water should help. Maybe some petroleum jelly if y’all’ve got some—” She looked up to speak to him but paused as she realized how close he was to her.

Her eyes were level with his chiseled, bare, tattooed chest, and her own skin grew hotter with the need to touch him than it had from the oven behind her. His icy hot eyes bore into her, but hers darted to the sensual curve of his mouth. She licked her lips and Wes pulled his hands free before placing his hands on either side of her in front of the still running sink. Normally, his positioning would feel like she was trapped, but the overwhelming security she felt made her heart light. She leaned in as he grazed his nose along her jawline, and her breasts heaved with every panting breath.

“Naomi—” Wes groaned her name against her ear before moving his hands to her hips and tugging her into his hardening—

“Mommy, is the cookies ready? Wes… where is your shirt at? You can’t go ‘round the world with no clothes on.”

Thea suddenly appeared in the kitchen as she used her sweet little voice to repeat words Naomi scolded her with all the time. The combination splashed cool water over Naomi’s libido, way better than the rushing tap water beside them could provide.

Wes chuckled before kissing Naomi lightly just under her ear. She swallowed and moved her hands to his chest with every intention of pushing him away, but she couldn’t bring herself to create space between them. He did it for her, though, as he cleared his throat and backed up.

He assessed the shirt he’d tossed on the counter, likely to see if there were any burns before sliding it back on. When his body was finally covered, he leaned forward at an awkward angle against the island countertop, drawing her attention to the thickness straining against his jeans’ zipper. He snorted and she met his laughing eyes as he adjusted, hiding his hard-on behind the island cabinet.

“Mommy, is they ready?” Thea asked with an insistent pursing of her lips.

Naomi yelped, somehow forgetting again that little eyes and ears were present. She smoothed her dress and coughed.

“It’s ‘are’, baby, but yeah, the cookies are ready. I just gotta drizzle the caramel...”

Wes’s eyes were still full of need and Naomi quickly diverted her attention to the baked goods. She’d get caught up in the moment again if she let herself, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could go without throwing herself at the man. “Wes was just helpin’ me.” She turned back to T, who was now walking into the kitchen from the living room. “You only get one, alright? It’s almost your bedtime. I don’t want you bouncin’ off the walls when I’ve got work tomorrow and you’ve gotta go to day care.”

Wes grinned as Thea rounded the counter like a racehorse. “Ready for that cookie, huh?” He picked her up like her forty pounds were nothing and tossed her in the air, causing giggles to cascade throughout the concrete aesthetic. He quickly turned her to face the oven, settling the girl’s slipping crown back onto her head. “I say you should at least be able to pick the one you want. So which one shall Princess T have, hm?”

Thea giggled and hugged his neck before her face grew serious over the most important decision a four-year-old could make.

“That one—”

Wes caught her hand before she could get too close to the pan and burn herself.

“This one?” he asked, pointing to two flat, crispy cookies that had morphed into one.

Guess I overmixed the dough after all.

“The princess gets what the princess wants.” He looked at Naomi and winked. “Just like the queen.”