Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Just when you think the last two days can’t get any weirder or worse…
I stare at my brother in disbelief.
“Are you serious right now, Griff?”
If steam really can come from a person’s ears, it’s about to happen. From both of us. Kane tempers are… hot is too mild of a word. My fuse is just a lot longer than my brother’s.
His hand clenches the steering wheel so hard I wonder if it might snap. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“There is no reason I would ever talk to Adam Hill again in this lifetime.”
Griff’s about to open his mouth when he suddenly disappears from the doorway. The truck jolts and I cringe at the sound of someone’s breath whooshing out .
I scramble across the console and out the driver’s side door.
Scout’s in my brother’s face. They’re both breathing hard, looking like two equally matched wild animals about to tear one another apart.
Shrill voiced, I shout, “Wait!”
As if I’ve snapped a spell, Scout releases Griff and drops his fisted hands to his sides. He paces in a tight circle, his thin control visible.
Griff’s eyes meet mine and regret flashes. “That was out of line. I’ll go deal with that fucker and his creep dive buddy.”
I have nothing to say. Not a single thing.
I’m so done.
My brother shoves off of the truck. He and Scout exchange one more look before Griff folds his tall body into the SUV and takes off so fast gravel spits from below his tires.
I almost sag to the ground.
When I lean back against the cool metal and press my hand to my eyes, tears sting my eyes as they rush to the surface.
“Hey…” Soft and husky, Scout’s voice is close.
Then he’s really close. The heat pulsing off him hits me like a cresting wave.
When his hand slides around the back of my neck, warm and strong, I have to bite my lip and close my eyes.
Don’t fall apart.
Don’t.
Just breathe.
Adam’s never going to hurt me again. My brother’s not really mad, he’s just been through a tough time. I’m safe .
But when Scout whispers, “Hey, beautiful,” in a husky tone, I lose the battle.
I fall forward into his arms, burying my face against the strength of his chest.
His heart is pounding below my ear. His breath comes and goes in slow, deep rounds that send heat fanning over my ear, down my neck, softening the constriction in my lungs.
His hand glides over my hair, cups my head to him. “I shouldn’t have stopped the truck.”
I fist his shirt in one hand as I press my other hand against the heat of his back. “It’s not your fault, but I can’t understand what is up with Griff. He’s completely unhinged when it comes to you.”
“He has his reasons.”
Scout’s thumb brushes over my cheek, catching a tear.
That’s when awareness comes slamming into me. I’m touching Scout. He’s touching me. I’m equal parts alarmed and relieved.
Nervous, I might do the wrong thing, I ask, “Are you okay with me hugging you?”
Scout’s body shifts, his hand wraps around my jaw and he tips my face up. Those pale, fascinating eyes are charged with emotion, and I can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me, as if he's teetering on the edge of something dangerous.
For a beat, I'm not sure if he's going to kiss me or walk away without a word.
Then he steals my thoughts by leaning closer.
He angles his head as he inhales deeply as if he’s about to freedive. Then he’s crashing into me, commanding me to open for him with the tip of his tongue.
A rough sound vibrates his chest and slides down my throat as he presses his tall body against me, pinning me against the truck.
The coarse hair of his beard scrapes deliciously against me. The weight of his pelvis crushes against mine as the length of his cock grows.
He kisses me so hard, so wildly, that I wonder if I might come just from the ferocity of the way he’s devouring me.
Then he’s gone. I’m panting. And he’s clutching the back of his neck, looking at the sky. “Fuck.”
I lick my bruised lips.
Heart skipping, core throbbing, I almost laugh at the absurdity of the moment. But something about the way he looks is deeply unsettling.
“Is that a good fuck or a bad fuck?”
He doesn’t even reply to my question, or remark about me saying the word I told him I’d prefer he wouldn’t use. He sweeps me off my feet and tosses me into the driver's side of the truck.
“We need to talk.”