15. Paxton
15
PAXTON
T he heat from the fire is like fuel. It spreads through me, feeding my resentment and confusion as I grab another beer from one of the coolers, pop the top off, and close the last bit of distance. She hasn’t noticed me yet. She’s too distracted by the man in front of her. It only pisses me off more.
“I know, right?” Tatum’s laugh is as rich as I remember. Hell, it’s richer. Throatier. Sexier. She touches the cowboy’s bicep and grins up at him when her attention catches on me.
I lift my beer in a silent cheers, and she does a double take, her jaw dropping.
Surprised, Birthday Girl?
As soon as our gazes connect, she recovers and twists around, giving me her back as if it isn’t too late to fly under the radar and pretend I’m not standing two feet to her left.
Yeah. Not fucking likely.
The fire dances around her silhouette, and the view shoots straight to my cock, reminding me of what’s underneath. What I thoroughly explored all those nights ago. The visceral reaction only feeds my frustration.
I’ve thought about that night more times than I can count. Second guessing whether or not I made the right decision to carry her secret with me or if I was fucking over an innocent man who isn’t even real. And here she is, pretending I don’t exist.
Well, if this isn’t a blow to the ego, I don’t know what is.
Fuck, you’d think I pissed in her drink or some shit.
“Hey, Birthday Girl,” I announce.
Her body tenses as she turns to face me, locking her arm with the cowboy next to her. “Oh. Hi, Pax. This is my…”—she gulps—“husband.”
“H-husband?” the guy balks.
I scan the guy up and down, then let out a low laugh. “Seems you’re as surprised as I am.” I turn to Tate. “No offense, but I think you can do better, Tate. At least find a guy who knows how to cover for you when you’re lying out of your ass, especially when it’s a habit of yours.”
Anger flares in her pretty gaze. “Who says I’m lying?”
Your best friend , I want to answer, but I bite my tongue. Stepping forward, I ignore her question, letting my attention roll over every inch of the woman. “You look good.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze flicks over me, though it’s less blatant and a hell of a lot less curious. Like she’s analyzing a math problem or some shit. “You do, too. Seems the rockstar life has treated you well.”
“It has,” I confirm. “What are you doin’ here?”
“Visiting. Yup. Me and Carter love to travel.”
“Been here two nights,” Carter chimes in, his southern accent thick as hell.
“Carter, huh? What happened to Archer?” I cock my head. “Are you a black widow or something, Tate? Kill your husbands after fucking them over?”
Something flashes in her eyes, but it’s gone too quickly for me to analyze. She crosses her arms and lifts her chin in defiance. “Seems you’re as funny as I remember, and while it’s been a real treat catching up, our flight leaves in the morning, so…we should probably get back to the hotel.”
“Really?” Carter’s eyes pop with excitement like a kid on Christmas morning. “There ain’t nothin’ that would make me happier, darlin’.”
She forces a smile and peeks at me. “Good to see you again, Pax. If you ever come to…Georgia, let me know.” Her shoulder lifts. “Or don’t.”
“I’m from Texas, darlin’,” Carter says.
I tip my head back and laugh. Seriously, where’d she find this guy?
“Yeah, but we’re moving to Georgia,” Tate clarifies through gritted teeth, too stubborn to give up the bullshit, though I’m not surprised. Once a liar, always a liar. “Remember, Carter?”
“Ah, hell. You’re right. I thought you meant next week, not in a few months, once we get done unpackin’, and everythin’.”
“Great cover,” I interject and clear my throat. “You mind if I steal your girl for a minute, cowboy?”
“I, well, I—” Beads of sweat cling to his forehead as he looks at Tatum like he’s caught between a rock and hard place. He’s probably weighing the pros and cons of backing down, curious if she’s worth the effort of potentially having his ass kicked. Don’t get me wrong. The guy looks like he’s used to tossing around bails of hay. But me? I look like I was raised on the wrong side of the tracks, and desperate men are capable of anything. Right now? I’m desperate and pissed off that I bought her bullshit all those years ago.
Sensing his indecision, Tatum throws her boy toy a bone, grumbling, “I’ll be fine, Carter. You can go.”
“Sure thing. I’ll, uh, I’ll be right over here.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder toward a table set up with hotdog and s’mores supplies, then beelines it away from us.
Funny. If the roles were reversed, there’s not a chance in hell I’d let her out of my sight. Honestly, even with the roles where they are, I still don’t want to let her out of my sight. Not until she apologizes for lying to me and tells me her fucking reasoning behind it.
“He seems…” I hook my thumbs in the loops of my jeans and rock forward, bringing us chest to chest. “Like the furthest thing from a rockstar you can get.”
Drawing a small zigzag in the sand with her bare toes, she stares at the ground and mutters, “Maybe my taste has changed.”
“Apparently,” I scoff. “Since your first husband was named Archer, right?”
With a glare cutting straight to my fucking bones, she warns, “Don’t say that name.”
I pull back, surprised by the animosity when she has no right to be pissed. Not at me. And not for this. Even so, I’m not completely heartless and with the look in those pretty hazel eyes? I’d have to be to not back off.
Lifting my hands in surrender, I mutter, “All right. Archer equals touchy subject. Noted.” I lower my hands, scrutinizing her. Maybe she is telling the truth because it’s clear this guy isn’t made up like I initially assumed. Or maybe I’m wrong. Again. Why is this girl so damn hard to read? She lied to me. Multiple fucking times, and I’m tired of letting her get away with it all because she has a pretty face. I crowd her even more, commanding her full attention. “Doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to fall for the same lie twice.”
She gives up on her little sand project and folds her arms. “You know, you almost had me fooled.”
“How so?”
“I told you not to chase me.”
I step toward her. She retreats, mirroring my movements as we slowly move away from the bonfire toward the base of the rocky cliffs not too far away. “This was an innocent run-in. Though, I’m pretty sure the last time you looked at me, the daggers were missing.”
“Last time, I’d just had a couple solid orgasms.”
“I’m happy to give you a few more, if you’re interested.”
“Aaaand, there he is.” She scowls up at me. “As selfless as the last time we talked.”
“Always.” We move past a few more stragglers, but I doubt she notices. She’s too focused on me. This conversation. And whether or not I’ll let it go. Her lies. Her body. The mind-fuck she’s put me through for years.
Not a chance.
“Why’d you lie to me, Tatum?”
Eyes round and innocent, she murmurs, “Who said I lied?”
“You really gonna play this game?” I grab her wrist and she screeches to a halt. Ignoring the heat licking at my palm from a simple touch, I bring her left hand between us, demanding, “Where’s the ring?”
Not even bothering to look at her naked ring finger, she answers, “In my hotel room.”
Bullshit.
I tug her into me, my need to be right battling with my need to kiss her just to see if she tastes as sweet as I remember. As sweet as I’ve reimagined more times than I can count, though I’d never admit it aloud. Moving even closer, I growl, “Not ready to surrender, Birthday Girl?”
“There’s nothing to surrender to.” Her hand presses against my chest, stopping my pursuit. “And even if there was, I’m not interested.”
“Again with the lies,” I tsk. “If you weren’t interested, you would’ve left with your husband ,” I seethe through gritted teeth. “Funny how you’ve never talked about him on your social media.”
Her gaze narrows. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”
Yes.
This is also something that happens more than I’d like to admit, if I’m being honest with myself, let alone to the girl in front of me. But if I let her in on my little secret, she’ll probably slap me before running in the opposite direction. Finally standing in front of her after all these years, the idea of her slipping away a second time is more than I can stomach. It’s not like I love her or some shit, but it’s clear we aren’t through. Not yet. Not when she’s been fucking with my mind for so long, only to confirm what a small part of me always knew. She’s not married. She was never married.
“Seems I’m not the only liar,” she seethes.
The fire in her gaze damn near burns me up on the spot, and I fight my smile. “You can put the claws away, Birthday Girl.” I let her arm go. “I didn’t go back on my promise.”
“Yet, here you are.”
“Here I am.” I spread my arms wide.
She takes another step back before realizing the black rock wall is behind her and she has nowhere to run. Not anymore.
With a smirk, I add, “Now, what am I going to do with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” I challenge. “You sure that’s what you want?”
Her tongue darts out between her lips, and she takes a deep breath. It causes her breasts to brush against my chest. The lack of light only shrinks the space between us, highlighting her shallow breathing and my heart thrumming in my ears.
My cock hardens in my jeans, but I ignore it, tilting my head. “Why are you acting like you hate me?”
She presses her hand to my chest, and my heart pounds even harder. “Because I wasn’t supposed to see you again.”
I shake my head, feeling like a caged beast. My muscles vibrate with so much adrenaline that if it doesn’t expel soon, I might lose my fucking mind. Doesn’t she get it? I haven’t needed to see her to think about her. To wonder. To be curious.
My throat is dry, but I swallow past the thick cotton and tower over her. “Tell me to leave.” My words hang in the air as she stares at my chest, refusing to look up at me. To give me a glimpse at what she’s thinking, well aware if I’m given the opportunity, I’ll read her like a fucking book.
“Leave,” she whispers.
My shoes touch her bare toes as I shift closer, growling, “Say it like you mean it.”
“Pax.”
I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Tell me why you lied.”
“Because I knew if I didn’t, you would track me down.”
“I do like the chase,” I agree.
“Exactly.”
“And what’s wrong with the chase, Birthday Girl?”
Again, her lips gnash together as she bites her tongue, refusing to let me in. To let me see exactly what she thinks so I can’t form a rebuttal and she can continue living in the land of delusion.
“You liked me, Tatum,” I push, giving in to the pull of her body as I press mine against hers. Like I knew it would, her body molds against mine, fitting me perfectly. “You liked talking to me,” I rasp. “You liked being on the back of my bike. You liked what I did to your body.”
“Stop talking.” She wraps her arms around my neck, her fingers threading through my hair and tugging sharply. “Stop.” She gulps. “Talking.” Then her mouth is on mine. Biting. Licking. Sucking. Her fingernails dig into the nape of my neck. I groan into her mouth, the sharp sting shooting straight to my cock. And fuck me. The memory of our night together doesn’t even hold a candle to this.
I grip her crop top in my hands, fighting the urge to rip it off her no matter how much I want to as she lifts her chin to give me better access to her throat. I dive in, scraping my teeth against her sensitive flesh. “If I didn’t hate you for lying to me, I could fuck you right now.”
With a breathy gasp, she whispers, “Who says you can’t fuck someone you hate?”
I look behind me, taking in the distance between us, the bonfire, and the nearest person who could see us, let alone hear us.
“Promise you’ll stay quiet,” I order.
She nods and reaches for my cock, squeezing the tip through my pants before dropping to her knees.
The movement nearly knocks me on my ass. “What are you doing?” I demand.
“Making sure I stay quiet.” With a quick zip of my jeans, my cock springs free, and she palms my shaft. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Bringing it to her lips, she swallows it completely until it hits the back of her throat. I slap my hand against the black rock to keep balanced.
Fuck.
We didn’t do this last time. Didn’t get this far. Didn’t have enough time to explore each other and all the ways we could make each other fall apart. The idea alone has me begging to throw her on her back and spread her legs wide so I can taste her while she sucks me off. Part of me wants to. The other part? I want to savor this. The feel of her mouth on me. The tiny mewls hitting my erection and shooting straight to my balls. The feel of her hands cupping my sac, rolling me in her palm and tugging softly until I swear I might black out.
My chest swells with every dip of her head and sweep of her tongue. It isn’t sweet or slow. It’s punishing. Twisting my stomach into a tight knot of greed and lust. I hold her head on me, pumping in and out of her sweet lips as tears roll down her face. I want to hate her. I want to worship her. I want to make her see what she does to me. Want to make her regret it the same way I do. That she has all the power. Every fucking ounce of it. And instead of wielding it the way I wish she would, she’s done nothing but torture me. Wreck me. Make me wanna smack her ass and come down her throat to prove I can. And I might if she doesn’t let up.
Dragging my thumb along the edge of her mouth, I warn, “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna come.”
She swirls her tongue around the mushroom head, her eyes glued to my face and branding the image into my brain for the rest of my measly existence. I’ve had good head before. More times than I can count, thanks to one too many afterparties. But this? After all the years she’s crossed my mind, knowing I could never have her again? This is something else entirely.
“You swallow me so good, Birthday Girl,” I rasp, running my thumb along cheek. “So fucking good.”
Her head bobs back and forth with a new level of fervor, as if my words—my praise—turns her on. It drives me further insane.
“Good girl. Just like that.”
Squeezing the base of my dick, she massages me with her hand and her mouth as she hollows her cheeks.
“Fuck, Tate. Fuck!” My cock spurts inside of her, and she swallows it, licking every drop of cum while I unload in her mouth. My thoughts blur into a haze, the world around me disappearing until all that’s left is me and her and how good this fucking feels.
Knees weak, I lean forward, letting the black rock hold my weight and dig into my palm. My mind reels, and I try to piece together how we got here. I approached her for answers. For the fucking truth. And now, here we are.
What the hell just happened?
My softening dick slips past her lips as I rasp, “That wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“Maybe that’s why I did it.” Her tongue darts out, and she licks the corner of her mouth. “Good to see you, Pax.”
I offer my hand to help her stand, but she doesn’t take it. Pushing to her feet, she folds at the waist, brushing the sand from her knees like she just finished building a sandcastle instead of giving me the best head I’ve ever had. And just like that, my frustration, my pent-up annoyance, flares back to life, leaving me dumbfounded and off-balance.
As she starts to move around me, I block her escape, demanding, “Give me your number.”
“No.”
“Give me your number.”
Her attention flicks to me, finally gracing me with a look of indifference. “Why should I?”
“Because no matter how many times you deny it, I know you’ve thought of me, too.”
With a slow blink, she looks down and adjusts her shirt. “I haven’t?—”
“You have,” I growl. “And when you go home tonight and touch yourself, you’ll think of me. But here’s the thing, Birthday Girl.” I move closer, forcing my hands to stay at my sides when all I want to do is tug her into me. “None of those orgasms will compare to what I’m going to do to you the next time I get my hands on you.”
“Who says I’ll let you get your hands on me again?” She peeks up at me another time, those thick, dark lashes reminding me of exactly what we did two minutes ago. My dick twitches.
“Tatum—”
“You don’t know me, Pax. And trust me, pursuing me will only be a waste of time.”
I stay quiet, pressing my lips into a thin line as I consider the woman in front of me. The air around us charges with every passing second while I attempt to piece together her motive for pushing me away. For lying. For being so damn stubborn when it’s clear she’s interested in me, too. Is she like this with everyone? And if she is, how the hell has she survived because looking at her makes me want to smack her ass. She’s so damn guarded. Even now, with her head held high and nothing but acid on her tongue and the taste of my cum, I can’t help but wonder… “Who hurt you, Birthday Girl?” I ask.
With the slightest flinch, hell it’s so small I almost miss it, she ignores my question, raising her chin another inch. “It looks like my job here is done, so if you’ll excuse me?—”
“Give me a chance,” I order.
“Why? So you can waste your time?” she challenges. “I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t sleep with the same guy twice.”
Her confession makes me pause, and I replay every sexual encounter we’ve had. My hands, my mouth, my cock. They’ve each taken a turn in her tight little pussy but only once. Never twice. Including tonight. Fuck, I offered to bend her over and make her come if she promised to be quiet, but I couldn’t. Not without Tatum giving in and breaking her rule. So she did the only thing she could. The only thing we hadn’t done before.
“It’s why you gave me your mouth,” I realize.
“Exactly.” She shrugs. “One and done, Pax. It’s all I’m looking for.”
All she’s looking for? She’s driving me insane, yet she has the discipline to just…walk away after experiencing chemistry like this? Determined, I tell her, “Then let me take you out and return the favor.”
“Take me out?”
“On a date,” I say. “A real one. With lobster rolls, the ocean, and my mouth.”
Her eyes flash in the moonlight, proving I’ve affected her by showing my hand and how much our conversation meant to me. Maybe I fucked myself over by showing it too soon, but this girl. Fuck, this girl. She’s been messing with my head for so long, now that she’s here, I don’t know what to do with myself.
Arms folded, she rocks back on her heels, watching me.
“Give me your number,” I repeat.
“And if I do?”
“I’ll call you.”
“I don’t live here. I’m only visiting?—”
“With your husband,” I quip. “Yeah, I’m aware.”
Rolling her eyes, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and admits, “Okay, I’m serious about the leaving part, though.”
Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. But it doesn’t matter either way as long as I can get in touch with her. As long as I can track her down and see her again because she might fight this, but there’s something about her. Something calling to me. Something pushing me to keep going. Keep fighting. Keep climbing past those barriers even if it kills me. I move forward. “Give me your number, Birthday Girl.”
With a huff, she mutters, “You really won’t quit, will you?”
“Not a chance.” Reaching up, I brush her hair away from her face, pinching the ends softly before letting it go.
“Fine,” she whispers, though her eyes stay glued to my chest. “555-942-9932.”
I nod, committing the numbers to memory. “When do you leave?”
“I, uh, soon. Just…call me or whatever, but I have to go.”
I watch her feet dig into the sand as she jogs away.
“See you soon, Birthday Girl.”