6. Chapter Five #2
I slip a finger inside myself, imagining it's him, imagining how he'd fill me so good, how he'd hold me down with those strong hands while he pounded in a way I've never had with a man before.
"Oh… shit! "
I have to brace myself against the shower wall to keep from collapsing as my orgasm explodes. I bite down hard on my lip to muffle the moan that wants to escape, my body convulsing around my fingers as I picture Beau's face, imagine him watching me come apart.
For a moment, I just stand there under the spray, breathing hard, my legs shaky as I replace the showerhead to it's original position above my head.
Well. That was... intense.
And completely insane.
Fuck.
I just masturbated to thoughts of my ex-fiancé's brother. A man I barely know. A man who's made it very clear he's not interested in getting involved in whatever mess my life has become.
Get it together, Molly.
I finish washing my hair and try to get my head on straight by massaging a little harder into my scalp than usual.
I am going to be careful. I'm going to focus on practical things. On getting my car fixed. And my life sorted out. On spending time with my sister and niece whom I've missed dearly.
I'm not going to be thinking about dark, stormy eyes and capable hands. And what it might feel like to be completely overwhelmed by someone in the very best way.
I step out of the shower feeling cleaner and more clearheaded. Ready to face the day like a rational adult.
The syrup is gone from my hair and my body is relaxed and satisfied.
I have a plan.
See? Problem solved.
I wrap myself in one of Sienna's impossibly fluffy towels and pad back to the guest room to get dressed, feeling quite pleased with my newfound sense of control and maturity.
"Oh, good!" Sienna calls as I emerge from the bathroom, hair still damp but significantly less sticky. "Perfect timing. Johnson's Auto just called."
I freeze in the doorway. "They did?"
"Mmm-hmm. They can look at your car today, but they need the keys if they're going to do anything with it."
Keys.
Car keys.
My car keys, which are...
"Oh no," I whisper.
"What?"
"Oh no, oh no, oh no."
I sink onto the couch next to Maisie, my hair wrapped in the towel. Maisie looks up from her increasingly elaborate treehouse blueprints, this time with a cute drawing of a man with a scribbly beard. He's towering over a shorter woman and a even smaller kid.
It's Beau and Maisie.
And… me .
"What's wrong, Aunt Molly? You look sick again."
"I don't have my keys," I say faintly.
Sienna blinks. "What do you mean you don't have your keys?"
"I mean I don't have them. They're not in my purse. They're not in my coat. They're..." I close my eyes, remembering everything with sudden, crystal clarity. "They're in Beau's truck."
Sienna starts to smile.
It's not a nice smile. It's the kind of smile that means she's about to meddle in my life in ways that will probably result in more mortification and definitely more time spent in the vicinity of Beau Callahan.
"Well," she says cheerfully, "I guess you'll have to call him."
No.
Absolutely not.
Not after what I just did in that shower. Not when my body is still humming with satisfaction and my brain is still replaying every vivid detail of my very inappropriate fantasy.
"Can't you call him?" I ask desperately.
"Me?!" Sienna gasps dramatically. "Why would I call him? They're your keys."
"But you know him! You're friends!"
"We're friendly," she corrects. "There's a difference. Besides, this gives you a perfect excuse to see him again."
"I don't want to see him again!"
The lie comes out so fast and so vehemently that even Maisie looks skeptical.
"You don't?" Maisie asks, cocking her head. "But he's really nice. And he promised to build my treehouse. Please don't upset him."
"It's not that I don't want to see him," I backtrack quickly. "It's just..."
Maisie's adorable face falls, her lower lip jutting out in a pout that could probably end wars. Her big brown eyes go wide and watery as she clutches her treehouse drawing to her chest.
The look says it all: How could you not want to see the greatest man who ever lived?
Sienna folds her arms over her chest, eyebrows raised in that big-sister way that says ' don't you dare upset my daughter '.
"It's just..." I trail off, trapped between the two matching expressions of disappointment.
I look at Maisie's drawing again—the bearded stick figure towering over the smaller ones, all holding hands under what appears to be a tree with a tiny house in it. There's even a little sun in the corner with a smiley face. And sunglasses. The sun has got sunglasses on.
The entire universe is conspiring against me. First my car, then my keys, now this emotional blackmail from a six-year-old artist.
"Oh, fine." I sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'll call him. But I'm going to need to borrow your phone."
Sienna's triumphant smile is immediate. Maisie's face lights up like I've just promised her a puppy.
I survived syrup hair, kid interrogation, and a shower orgasm.
Calling Beau Callahan can’t be any worse.…
Right?