Chapter 9
Sawyer
I feel weird.
Val’s always been like an older sister. There, but in the background. Working for her was supposed to be an excuse to get some separation from the ranch.
A familiar person to get on my feet about being more independent.
The job is easy. Fast paced enough I don’t have to stare at the clock or get bored.
I could be in the background and try to be dependable.
But now…
My dick won’t stay down. It’s why I rushed into the kitchen. I couldn’t control myself.
From the moment she said the word “breast” I was fucked.
That thing has a mind of its own.
Except now I can’t stop thinking about the taste of her skin, the brush of her lips, the smell of that little hollow of her cleavage.
“Sawyer?” She pushes through the door with a handful of order slips.
I press my hips harder against the counter to hide the bulge in my jeans.
It’s embarrassing.
“Hey, sorry I kinda put you on the spot. I didn’t think you’d actually not know what a body shot was.” When she leans over to tack the pages to the board, I can’t help but glance at the flash of skin between the bottom of her tight shirt and the waist of her low slung jeans.
I never noticed that before.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I lower my head to focus on kneading the dough.
“It’s okay,” I mumble, avoiding looking at her.
But then her hot palm lands on my forearm, forcing me to meet her piercing green stare. “No. I hope I didn’t screw things up with you and your girlfriend.”
What?
My face scrunches in confusion. “I don’t have one.”
Why would she think I did?”
Her head tilts as her arms cross her chest.
Geez, that makes her breasts push up. There’s still remnants of salt on the left—
Stop noticing!
“How does a cute, polite, hard working guy like you not have a girl?” The corner of her red lips lifts while she watches me.
Her praise makes me hot inside, suffocatingly.
She thinks I’m cute?
All I can do is shrug.
Her throaty laugh as she leaves makes my nuts tingle.
They never did that before. What the hell is wrong with me?
My face feels like it’s on fire.
By the time the evening rush passes, my groin is finally back to normal.
It takes a little while to get everything cleaned up. It was busier tonight than I’ve been used to, so the kitchen is pretty trashed.
I’m scrubbing the last of the dishes when Val comes back in.
“I got the front picked up already, you don’t have to worry about it.” She’s holding a few bills folded in her hand that she waves towards me. “Here’s your half of the body shot money.”
The image of her bare chest flashes through my head again.
Fuck. My dick is back at it.
“Oh, lean over here.” She pulls a paper towel from the rack and dips it under the warm water. “You might not have a girlfriend yet, but you go home with lipstick on your mouth, no one will believe you.” A smirk flirts a mischievous glint into her emerald gaze as she wags her fingers at me.
I hesitate. I don’t know how well I’ll handle her touching me again.
It makes it hard to breathe.
“Come on, be a good boy.” Her voice drops into a low purr.
Does she know what the fuck she’s doing to me? Or is this still her bar act? I’ve seen the difference in how she treats the customers. Flirty banter for tips.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I obediently lean closer.
Her fingers are cool where she grips my chin, a sharp contrast to the heat of the damp wipe.
Every stroke feels like I’m straddling an electric fence.
“There.” She tilts her head, staring at my mouth. “Now it doesn’t look like you’ve been kissing anyone.”
My throat closes over making it impossible to breathe.
Somehow I finish rinsing the last tray.
Maybe I should flip the water to cold and spray it down my damn pants?
“Anyways, here’s the cash.” She sets it on the clean prep area. “Have a good week.” Flashing me one last smile, she disappears out the door.
The entire drive home, all I can think about is the brush of her lips.
Was that a kiss?
It’d have been my first.
Does it count?
I’m just glad everyone is asleep when I get home. Tiptoeing into my room, I tug off my boots and jeans, then collapse onto my disheveled bed.
Sleep would be nice.
Except every time I close my eyes I see her. That damn body shot replays over and over on an endless loop.
Each time I progress a little further.
What would it have been like to tug her snug tank top down and lick the salt directly off her nipples? Are they pink or purple?
With a groan I roll over, wrapping my arms around my pillow.
If I had kissed her, would she taste like lime? Or the burn of tequila?
It would have been better if I could have sucked the alcohol out of her pierced belly button.
Fuck.
My hand drifts to my boxers, gripping my hard dick in my fist.
No, I’m not jacking off to Scott’s sister.
This is the same woman who used to tease me when I was younger.
Called us nerds and said I smelled like horse shit when I didn’t shower before I went over.
It was a relief when she got married and moved out of Scott’s parent’s place.
Even if it felt emptier.
Shit, who am I kidding?
She’s always been hot as hell.
Big breasts, round hips, and puffy red lips that always look like she’s just been kissed.
My hips start to buck as my hand moves faster, in sync with every thought.
She trusted me to touch her.
Lick her.
I’m special to her.
She thinks I’m cute.
I’m her good boy.
Violently, I spurt over my crumpled sheets as I bite the comforter to stifle my moan.