Page 48 of Rebound

“Well, I’ll keep all my dark secrets to myself and let you believe the best of me, Pete.” He laughs and sits at the kitchen island.

“Tell me how you met Seth. He never tells me anything. It’s like pulling teeth sometimes with that boy.” He surprises me when he reaches across the island and rests a hand on mine. “I really do want us to be friends.”

This man never leaves the house, so I’m going to assume Seth and Jasmine are his only friends. And Seth is only in this out of obligation mostly. I’m certain of it.

“Well, as your friend, I promise never to lie to you. I did not like your son at all when I first met him. In fact, I disliked him way before I ever laid eyes on him.”

His eyes widen, but then he gives me a lopsided grin.

“It was because of all them girls, wasn’t it?”

“Bingo. I judged him so hard. Let me tell you about the day we actually met—”

Chapter 27

Seth

Jasmine giggles when I tickle her belly and toss her over my shoulder. I spin around, and she lets out a big belly laugh just like I knew she would.

“More,” she yells, and I do it again, but stop when I start to get dizzy. I take her off my shoulder and put her under my arm like a football.

“Heisman!” I yell as I run out of the room, down the hall, and down the stairs. I hear laughter and chatter when I get there, which is not a sound I’m used to in this house unless it’s Jasmine’s baby giggles.

“No way,” I hear Layla say.

“It’s true. If he didn’t get that basketball scholarship, he would have gotten an academic one. He’s gotten all A’s from first grade to twelfth. He got a perfect score on that college placement test. He would be headed to medical school right now.” I turn the corner in time to see my father standing there, proudly puffing out his chest at my accomplishments. “I don’t know where he got that from. Not from me or his mom. I’m about as sharp as a circle.”

“I don’t believe any of that,” Layla says. She holds a bread knife and points it at me. “Him? Smart? No way.” She grins, and I smirk. “All he does is gyrate on the court like a fool aftereach basket like this.” She exaggerates rolling her hips, and my dad bursts into laughter. “Let’s not get started on those stupid faces he makes when he’s in total Sethhead mode.” She points at me with her index and middle finger, then she does it to herself before she sticks her tongue out.

“Well, I never said he was mature. He’s a terrible dancer too. That’s probably the only thing he can’t do well. The Sethhead thing is behind him or he’s going to have to answer to me.” Dad looks at me, and I almost want to laugh. As if he ever had any authority over me. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been the one telling him what to do. “I’m gonna go find his report cards.” He hops off the stool and starts to walk away, but Jasmine runs after him. He stops long enough to pick her up along his way.

Layla slices a French baguette, and I go behind the counter to help, but she puts the knife down and puts a hand to my chest. Something about the gesture shocks me. I don’t remember the last time someone other than my daughter touched me like this. She pushes against me, and I wrap my hand around her wrist. I show her how powerless she is as I pull her into my body. I put my hand on her ass and gyrate.

“Is this what you were talking about?” I whisper in her ear. I continue my slow grinding until I hear her moan. She bites her lip, and I lower my mouth. Her eyes stay on mine until I get close to her lips. “You’re gonna have to wait.” Then I let her go and move away to reach for the knife again. “Let me do it.”

“No.” She snatches the knife before I can get to it. “I’ve got it. Sit down.” She points to a chair, and when I continue to just stand there, she snatches my wrist and starts to pull me.

I let her, and she takes me to the couch. When she points to it, I sit, but I pull her onto my lap. She feels good. I always knew she would. Holding a woman like this has never interested me.Only children are supposed to be held like this. At least that’s what I think. It’s not like I have experience sitting on a loved one’s lap, but having her like this, I realize that intimacy is not a bad thing.

She looks into my eyes, and I hold her stare. My hand travels up her spine until I cup the back of her head. I tilt my head up, and she leans down. The kiss is slow and sweet. One of her hands lands on my chest, and I wrap my free one around it to keep her there.

I never realized touching could be so intimate. We continue to kiss and she moans against my mouth. If my dad and daughter weren’t upstairs, I’d lay her on the couch and make slow, sweet love to her. I’d hold her underneath me, and I’d hold her through her orgasm, but that will have to wait until tonight.

“You’re going to make me lunch?” I ask when we finally break the kiss. She nods and rests her forehead on mine. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” she says, “but you’re not about to tell me what to do. Don’t make me call Vickie.”

“Oh, please. What is she going to do to me?” I grin at Layla. “She’s like a cult leader, and you’re her most devout follower.”

“When you think about it, everything she says makes sense.”

“That’s what all the cult followers say. For your information, it makes zero sense. All she does is fawn over Chastain and their kids and pretends like it’s a hardship.”

She shrugs but doesn’t offer a counterargument. Her nose scrunches when I squeeze her back. I shock her when I take her chin between my teeth and start to growl like a dog.

“Oh my god. Let me go, you mongrel.” I pull on her gently. She could easily pull away and run, but she doesn’t. She wraps her hand around my shirt. I throw her on the couch and straddle her. I take both her wrists and lift them above her head.She starts to laugh and scream. With my free hand, I lift her shirt and start to tickle her. “I’m so gonna kick your sorry ass, Whorekowski,” she says between laughs.

“I’m so scared.” I drop her wrists, take one of her legs, and throw it around my waist. “Come on. Fight me.” I put my full weight on her, rendering her completely immobile.

---