Sins of the Father

Chapter Twelve

Mercy didn't feel like sharing anymore that night, which was cool because Happy didn't push. He never did. That's what she appreciated the most about him. He was always willing to listen, but he rarely asked questions.

When she finally stopped crying, Happy had gotten to his feet and briefly left her alone. He jogged up to the loft, and then she heard the sound of running water. A few minutes later, he came back downstairs wearing nothing except his baggy jeans. Once he reached her, he held out his hand in a silent invitation.

"What's all this about?" Mercy took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. She made a show out of looking him up and down. "I thought we were waiting?" She gave him a cheeky grin.

He smirked right back as he pulled her into his embrace. "We are waiting, little girl. Doesn't mean that I can't give my old lady a bath," he whispered in her ear before pulling away from her but keeping ahold of her hand.

"Excuse me?" Mercy dropped the teasing act and looked at him in stunned disbelief.

Happy ignored her and tugged on her hand to get her to follow him up the stairs, which she did. She allowed him to lead her into the small ensuite bathroom where he had candles lit on the counter and a bubble bath waiting in the clawfoot tub.

"Are you for real?" Mercy blurted out. This was way more romance than she had ever expected in her life, and it was technically still only the first date.

Happy just chuckled as he reached for the hem of her shirt. He went to pull it up, but her hands unconsciously come up to stop him. "What's wrong, sweet girl?"

"I'm not a size two," Mercy blushed and mumbled. She wasn't a real big girl, but she was no supermodel. She was thick and curvy, and she knew that most guys were into the ultra-thin girls, like Kate Moss, these days. What were the fashion magazines calling it, again? Oh, yeah, heroin chic.

"Thank fucking God for that." Happy had her shirt up and off before she even knew what happened. He didn't give her any more time to be self-conscious. He made quick work of her bra before he pulled flush against him, their naked chests squished together. "I ain't interested in junkie-lookin' whores." Then, reaching down and grasping her hips, he pressed his jean-covered hard-on into her. "You're what I want." He spoke against her lips before stealing them with his own.

When they eventually came up for air, Mercy's mind had been so thoroughly scrambled that she legitimately forgot that she was topless.

Happy was breathing a little rough when he pulled away from her. "Get in the tub, baby," he ordered. "I'm gonna go lock up. I'll be right back."