Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Savannah…
What in the fuck was that? I thought to myself, leaning heavily against the door and taking in my relatively stunned and shattered appearance in the mirror above the sink.
My pussy still throbbed faintly with all the good feels, but holy shit – I had never been so… I didn’t even know what, as I’d been in that room just minutes ago.
I used the toilet and sat for several moments in a sort of post-sex haze of wonder at my wanton behavior.
I hadn’t been entirely comfortable blowing him, but if it was one thing I had had a lot of practice at?
It was blowjobs. I’d only had one partner before Corbett, and that was back in high school, before college.
And while we’d ahem, sealed the deal before I’d gone off to college, it’d only been one or two times before the distance had been too much for him and he’d cheated.
And… well… I’d been more than a little busy with getting my degree and building my little life here in Savannah to spend much time in the dating pool.
Plus, nowadays, guys weren’t interested in any kind of relationship, which bothered me.
They just wanted sex. While Corbett Prescott was much the same in that regard, there was at least one thing I appreciated about him.
He didn’t mince words, throw mixed signals, or lie about it.
He had been very clear from the get-go on what he wanted and how he wanted it, and I could at least appreciate that.
I mean, the man, for all of his arrogance and pushy behavior, knew precisely how to set me off, and there was something… I didn’t know… comforting to not have the burden put on me for everything all the time. His weird alpha maleness wasn’t degrading, even if it was demanding of me, and the payoff?
Well, let’s just say I have never been wetter or felt as free as I did under his control – which was weird, I know. I mean, wasn’t that weird?
I cleaned myself up as best I could in the small bathroom with what was at hand and donned my panties.
I refreshed my makeup and finger-combed my hair into some semblance of less wildness and more professionalism.
When I opened the door, Corbett was leaning against the wall beside it, scrolling on his phone through what looked like a group text exchange.
“Hey,” he said, giving me a once-over and smiling slightly. Butterflies took off in my stomach at the sight of that little smile, and never had I ever even thought about this man in that way before all of this.
“Hey,” I said and drew the word out on a sigh. I needed a minute. I needed some space. It was as though the world had tipped on its axis a bit, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
Overwhelmed was a good word for it.
“I really hate to do this, but I’ve got to go,” I lied. “Work calls.”
I hoped he bought it. His whiskey-colored gaze roved my face and lingered with enough prolonged eye contact that it made me want to squirm, but I held perfectly still.
“I understand,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
I put on a bright smile and said, “Thanks!”
We struck out in the direction of the parking lot.
“You, okay?” he asked me once we cleared the door and stepped into the evening sundown. It was still barely light out here, which meant I really had spent no time at all here, but lord, it had felt like the entire world had stopped for us when we’d been in that room together.
“I’m good!” I said quickly. “More than good, actually.”
I reached out and slid a hand up the lapel of his leather jacket beneath the colorful patched vest he wore over it, the patches stained with wear and road grime.
“I call, you answer,” he reminded me, and tipped my chin so gently to bring his lips down to mine.
He kissed me, and it was so sweet, almost like a little reward for a job well done.
“Am I forgiven then?” I asked quietly, and what I hoped was playfully.
He smiled and said, “Oh yeah. That was a very good girl.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed at that and rolled my eyes, even as the praise showered me in unexpected, internalized tingles.
“I’ll call you later tonight and check on you,” he said.
“I’ll answer,” I said, and opened my car door and got in.
He closed my door for me and stepped back, raking a hand through his hair, back from his face.
I smiled and started my Jag. He watched me pull out of the parking lot, and I shivered.
Wow, that had been intense.
Wow, wow, wow!
I drove home, my day thoroughly done, and arrived just after full dark. I completed my ritual of pulling into the garage, closing things up, carrying my purse, briefcase, tumbler, and juggling my keys to my front door.
I let myself into my house and shut the world out, sighing as I dropped my stuff inside the door, holding onto just my tumbler as I didn’t want any of the contents to spill.
“Well, that was intense,” I said to no one and nothing in particular. I heaved a sigh and turned, locking the door behind me before switching on a light.
I stepped out of the mess I’d made of my entryway and went right in to strip and shower.
Yeah, the dress needed to go into my dry-cleaning pile – for sure – and I flushed with embarrassment thinking about how the place might judge me for the stains that were clearly dried on it.
Woof. My mind raced as I stepped into the shower. I was still stressed about if and when the cops would come knocking over Hal Lindstrom… but at the same time… I didn’t think I regretted what happened one bit.
Was I still off-kilter and trying to learn how this whole new dynamic worked with Corbett? Yes… But I was also trying to work through how something so binding could also feel so freeing!
The cognitive dissonance was real, and it was really uncomfy. I couldn’t say exactly where my mental health was at with all that was going on. I mean, a lot had happened in a very short amount of time, and I just couldn’t seem to process fast enough.
I scrubbed my face free of makeup and my hair free of product and just stood for an inordinate amount of time under the hot shower spray and thought myself in circles.
There really wasn’t much for me to do in this dynamic except, honestly, pick up the phone when he called… which, thus far, hadn’t been difficult.
I got into my coziest pair of pajamas and put on a robe, taking myself to the kitchen to make a hot cup of tea. I turned on the fireplace ambiance while the electric kettle heated, trying to decide whether I was in the mood for a movie or to read.
The answer was, I wanted to go home – back to the farm where I felt grounded and centered and more like myself than I did anywhere else.
The truth of the matter was this was all a sham, and I was pretending to be brave and sucking it up on a daily to wheel and deal, all in a bid to save my very favorite home.
And as if that wasn’t stressful enough? No, I had a murder to cover up and was at Corbett Prescott’s beck and call – which, honestly, though frustrating, wasn’t all bad. It was just… a lot.
I didn’t have the concentration to read a book, and so television it was. I snuggled into my couch under my fluffy throw, and wrapped my hands around a warm mug of tea, trying to forget my circumstances lately, and no, it didn’t come anywhere close to working.
A week or two passed, and Corbett was a little busier than usual, so despite phone calls here and there that were mostly business related, I had a bit of a reprieve which put me back on track.
That is until Savannah PD showed up in my office asking questions about Hal Lindstrom.
I lied my way through the interview, convincingly I hoped.
He’d shown up to the showing a little late, but not significantly.
He’d come from dinner, he’d said. I’d noticed alcohol on his breath, and he appeared to be slightly inebriated, but in good spirits.
No, he hadn’t driven there – he’d taken a car.
He had made an offer on the house. Yes, I thought it was weird that he just stopped answering the phone and didn’t return any calls.
Yes, I’d been worried. No, I didn’t think it was my responsibility to call the police when he failed to answer his phone.
Maybe he had buyer’s remorse or any other number of possibilities.
I’d seen similar in real estate before. People could be flaky, but it was so few and far between that it was still odd.
They thanked me for my time and left, no closer to figuring out what’d happened to Hal, but thankfully seemingly none the wiser that I had anything to do with it.
Still, my heart hammered in my chest, and as soon as the office door closed, I sagged in my seat.
My eyes drifted to the window that certainly wasn’t there for any kind of view, but did let in natural light.
My phone buzzed and I jumped, quickly picking it up to see a message from Corbett.
How did you do?
I looked around my office, which I know was stupid, but…
To what are you referring? I asked.
You know what. Meet me tonight. My place. 8 o’clock.
I sighed and had to frown.
What if I’m too tired? It sounded lame, even to me, but I’d already hit send.
I call, you answer. I frowned and texted back – but, of course, I got no response. I hated that he knew I would show up – how could I not? My curiosity was already killing me. How did he know? Literally, how did he know the police had been here? Was he stalking me?
Of course he was, I thought to myself. It was stupid of you to think he wouldn’t.
The whole thing threw me into such a tailspin, but I couldn’t cancel the rest of my day, even if I wanted to.
I wondered if he knew my schedule somehow, too. Because there was no reason I had to miss the appointed hour, and in fact, his place was closest to my last appointment for the day, conveniently so.
“Two tears in a bucket, mother fuck it,” I muttered, and I gathered my wits, shoving all else to the side to finish out my day.