Chapter 17 Mae
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sienna says, folding her arms across her chest. She’s seated on a barstool in my kitchen while I knock back another glass of whiskey.
“Why not? He wanted to mark his territory with Axel and ruined my date,” I respond.
“Yes, but what good will come from you going to his apartment and telling him off him? He’s a client too. Remember?”
I rake a hand through my hair, frustrated, as I pour another shot and sip it slower this time.
Whiskey always seems to do the trick when it comes to messy things for me.
And right now, I’m being incredibly messy while I plot just how I’m going to tell off Cody that he had no right speaking over me like that while I was on a date.
But before I can finish my next thought, the doorbell chimes.
Sienna raises a brow. “Who could that be?”
I stalk towards the door, liquid courage coursing through my blood. Checking the peephole, I see Cody standing outside wearing the same damn baseball cap from the restaurant tonight.
“Shit!” I hiss and drop to the ground as if he can see me through the peep hole.
“Who is it?” Sienna stage whispers.
“It’s Cody,” I whisper back, waving my arms like a lunatic as if that’s going to make us both disappear.
Sienna’s eyes widen as she looks at me, then grabs her purse and smiles.
“On second thought, you should call him out. Really lay into him. Elsie is gone for the next two weeks. I know he’s a client, but maybe you deserve to have some fun and bang it out with a guy you used to love.”
Love.
That word alone has my heart doing some strange, skipping motion—like it can’t decide whether to race or stop altogether—leaving me both nauseous and exhilarated.
And the truth?
I haven’t been in love with anyone since Cody.
How pathetic is that? That even my ex—the man I share a child with, the man I built a life with for a time—I never loved. Not the way I should have. Not the way I loved Cody.
I knew this was a mistake. Letting him back in, reopening a wound I’d convinced myself had healed years ago. It dredges up memories I don’t want, reminders of a childhood that hurt more than it should have.
But none of that stops me from watching as Sienna slips out the sliding glass doors, sneaking around to her car. And none of that stops me from taking a deep breath, standing up, and steadying my heart before I walk to the front door and pull it open.
Cody stands there, tall and shadowed beneath the dim streetlights, his face unreadable.
“What do you want?” I ask, exasperation lacing my words.
His eyes meet mine, and for the first time in years, I see it—the wound behind them. The ache that mirrors my own.
“Can I come inside?” he asks, his voice quiet. Then softer, “Please, Mae.”
I hesitate, my fingers curling around the doorframe. I should tell him no. I should walk away. But instead, I step back, holding the door open wider, letting him in.
The moment he steps into the kitchen, under the warm glow of the overhead light, I see it—his eyes are slightly red, a haze over them that wasn’t there before. And just like that, his words from all those years ago come rushing back.
"I don’t drink. It’s just not my thing."
But he clearly has tonight.
And I have no idea what that means.
He steps closer, the door clicking shut behind him as he crowds my space, his presence overwhelming, his body radiating heat. His chest rises and falls like he's barely holding himself together, his eyes dark with something raw and unrestrained.
“I had Uber drop me off here,” he says, voice thick with frustration. “I was prepared to wait all night for you to get home from your date with Axel. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if you showed up with him. I wanted to fight that fucker so badly.”
A surprised laugh escapes me, my head falling back against the wall. "Why do you even care that I was on a date, Cody?”
His jaw flexes, his hands finding my hips, pulling me flush against him.
"I think you underestimate just how much it’s been killing me that you went out with him—after being with me.
After letting me touch you.” His fingers tighten, his grip possessive, branding.
“You underestimate just how territorial I am over people that feel like they’re mine. ”
His hand slides up, cupping my cheek with surprising tenderness, even as his gaze flickers down my body, lingering at the curves the thin fabric of my dress does little to hide. When his eyes meet mine again, they’re burning.
Then, he leans in, his hard chest pressing against mine as his lips ghost along my throat, his breath sending a shiver racing through me.
“You’ve always felt like mine, Mae," he murmurs. "From the moment I saw you in that dusty rodeo parking lot I knew we’d be together somehow."
And then he’s pulling back just enough to meet my gaze, searching for something he already knows he’ll find. My permission. My surrender. It’s there. I need him just as much as he needs me.
His mouth crashes into mine.
His kiss is desperate, claiming—his tongue demanding as I melt into him, his hands gripping me tighter like he can’t bear the thought of letting go.
He pauses only for a breath, his lips still brushing mine as he rasps, “Tell me to stop.”
I shake my head. “I won’t.”
"Why the hell did you go out with him tonight?"
"Why does it matter? We had one night," I breathe, my fingers deftly working at his belt, unfastening it, then moving to his jeans. Because yes, it was supposed to be just that—one raw, passionate night. One final, reckless moment of closure.
But I’ve been drinking. And now he’s here, looking at me like that, saying things like that.
Maybe I don’t want closure. Maybe I just want him.
His hands clamp around my wrists, halting my movements with an iron grip. His gaze doesn’t waver, doesn’t soften. If anything, it digs deeper, demanding something I don’t know if I can give.
"Answer the damn question, Mae Beaumont."
My spine stiffens. "Don't call me that," I snap, my voice firm, unwavering. "I'm not that little girl anymore."
His grip loosens slightly, his head tilting as he studies me. Then, quietly, like it’s a truth he’s always known, he murmurs, "I know you’re not. You’re all woman now." His thumb brushes over the inside of my wrist, slow, reverent. "But I’ve loved every version of you."
Heat floods through me, curling in my stomach, spreading like wildfire beneath my skin.
Because I like the way he says it—like he sees every piece of me, every version I’ve been and ever will be.
And I like that he loved me even at my weakest.
I like that I know he still does.
He leans his face lower to my lips as if he's considering kissing me then moves them to my neck instead and nips at my ear. "Tell me why you didn’t respond to my text message last night and then went on that date with him."
His fingers move to the hem of my short dress, slipping underneath as they work their way up my thigh.
My heart races, not finding the words to answer him as he finds my underwear and then roughly shoves it aside before slipping one finger inside, pumping slowly.
I let out a moan, feeling the way that he hooks his long, guitar playing fingers, finding my most sensitive spot and rubbing it gently.
His other hand guides me back towards the front door behind us as he holds me in place possessively.
"I... I..."
Every other hookup I’ve had required a build—a long, slow climb before I could even think about letting go. It’s why I usually prefer the ease and efficiency of my vibrators. Less effort. Less disappointment.
But with Cody?
All it takes is the slightest brush of his fingers against my clit, and my entire body betrays me—legs shaking, nipples tightening, head swimming in a dizzy haze of need.
A second finger slides inside me, stretching me just right, and my body clenches around him like it remembers. Like no time has passed at all.
It’s always been like this with him.
His touch undoes me.
And suddenly, I’m her again—the girl who fell for the cowboy who knew my body like it was his own.
"Why do you care?" I sigh, my fingers tangling in his hair as I wrap my arms around his neck, desperate for something to hold onto.
His only answer is his mouth on mine, firm and claiming, like he’s been starving for this.
And when he pumps his fingers harder, his thumb circling my clit with expert precision, I’m gone. Completely lost to him and the moment.
“Because I spent a night inside of this cunt, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.
Because having you again, Mae,” he cusses, his head tilting back as he rocks his pelvis forward against me.
I can feel how hard he is, how turned on he is by this and that only turns me on more.
I moan as he groans, his lips falling to my neck, “it’s too fucking good,” he finishes.
"Cody," I sigh, my voice breaking as he mercilessly teases my clit.
The pressure builds fast, spiraling higher, and then suddenly, without any warning, I'm coming. My body slumps back against the door for support, my legs tremble, but he holds me effortlessly, his grip firm and possessive. His fingers don’t relent, pushing me from one orgasm to another peak before he finally withdraws his hand, leaving me gasping and completely wrecked.
Without a word, he scoops me up, carrying me to the bedroom with ease.
He lays me down, his eyes locked onto mine as he strips off his shirt, revealing tanned, sculpted muscle, the kind that makes my breathing slow.
He pushes his jeans down, his cock already thick and straining against the fabric.
He sheaths himself quickly, adjusting the condom to be sure that it’s on tightly, his fingers tightening at the tip like he’s forcing himself to hold back and not come too fast.
"Tell me why you went on a date with someone other than me tonight," he demands, his voice dark, edged with something almost dangerous.
My pulse pounds in my ears. "I went... I went because if I didn’t, then that would mean what we had the other night meant something more than just sex.
" The words spill out, uneven, as I watch him grip himself tighter. He’s so thick, so long.
No one has ever compared to him since. The tip of him is the most perfectly round head I’ve ever seen.
I wet my lips, wondering how it’d feel to taste him again.
How it’d feel to grip his thighs as I take him down the back of my throat and swallow.
He stills, his brows knitting together as if weighing my words, trying to decide what they mean for him—what they mean for us.
“Mae,” he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, “it was more than sex for me. It’s always been more than sex with you. What we shared when we were kids connected us in a way that I’ve never felt with anyone else.”
My heart stutters. Can it really be more? Can we really pick up where we left off at nineteen, as if years haven’t passed? As if nothing has changed?
"I want to feel you. All of you again. Are you on birth control?" he asks, his tone softer now, eyes searching mine.
I nod.
"I've been tested recently. I’m clean. Do you trust me?" he asks.
Another nod. Because right now, more than anything, I want to feel all of him too. No barriers. No distance. Just us.
His jaw tightens as he grips the base of his cock, and with a flick of his wrist, he peels the condom that he just put on off, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.
My breath catches as he climbs over me, his body caging mine, his warmth seeping into my skin as he positions himself, the thick, perfectly round head of his cock pressing right at my entrance with a thick vein running on the side.
“Mae, I want you back in my life for good,” he murmurs, his gaze intense.
“I want all of you, every inch of you, to be mine. I don’t want to share you.
Your parents tore us apart as kids, but we aren’t kids anymore.
Now is our time—if you’ll have me. I want to get to know Elsie, understand your business better and be there for you along the way with whatever you need from me. ”
His words hit me like a punch to the chest, raw and earnest, but he doesn’t give me time to process them before his thumb finds my clit again, teasing, coaxing, sending another wave of pleasure rolling through me.
He presses lower, slipping his thumb inside my opening, stretching me just enough to make me shudder before withdrawing and replacing it with his cock.
And then he thrusts in deep, hips rocking forward, seating himself inside me in one firm stroke, and I swear stars explode behind my eyes. My back arches, my body clenches around him as he fills me completely.
"Tell me we can give this a shot," he rasps, gripping my thigh to hold me open and then hooking it around his hip to sink even deeper, his movements slow but deliberate, dragging pleasure from every inch of me.
My mind screams that this is a bad idea, that we shouldn’t do this because of our professional relationship. But the orgasm I’m chasing says otherwise. That maybe he’s right. Maybe it really was our parents who tore us apart. Maybe we could be something again.
I nod, barely able to get the motion out before he drives into me harder, deeper, his pace rough and desperate. This time, he’s not gentle. This time is passionate. Need. Years of pent-up tension crashing between us and culminating in a second chance.
I dig my nails into his back, and with a cry, I come again, letting the pleasure rip through me as he follows, filling me with his seed.