Chapter 6 #2
Explosions of color flash across her face under the night sky, and every time I try to look away, I’m pulled right back in.
Spending time with her today has only been confirmation that what I felt in Phoenix wasn’t a fluke.
There was something between us, and she put a wall up the moment she realized it.
She was honest from the beginning about not being a wrestling fan, but it seemed like she’d put those biases aside until closer to the end of the night.
On the ride back to her friend’s place, her answers became short, more clipped, and it felt like I was sitting next to a completely different person than the one I’d spent the evening with.
That’s why, even though I wanted to kiss her that night, I didn’t.
Today has proven I wasn’t crazy last time; there was something here, and this time I don’t plan on letting her walk away.
When I look at her again, I catch her staring back.
A slow smile tugs on her lips, and she tucks her hair behind her ear before looking away.
What I wouldn’t give to see the blush I know is creeping into her cheeks, but it’s too dark, and the color gets washed out by the explosions above us.
She watches a few more before her gaze drops back down to mine with a cocked brow.
A glance at my lips is the only invitation I need to take a step closer. “Come with me,” I whisper, and lace my fingers through hers.
From our spot at the back of the shoreline, no one will notice if we sneak away, at least not immediately.
By the time they do, the fireworks will be almost over, and we will have had enough time to discuss not only what went wrong last time, but how we can move forward.
And maybe a little more…if she’s into that sort of thing.
The yard is quiet, except for the movie playing on the projector.
Everyone is too preoccupied with the fireworks, including most of the event staff, but a few linger inside the tent.
We could go inside, but there’s a good chance there’s at least one or two moms in there with kids.
The last thing I need is one of them overhearing something and running to tell my parents.
There’s no one at the pool, making it seem like the safest option.
“You okay with this?” I ask, motioning to the concrete edge.
“No funny business, Bennett James,” Sloane says, lifting a brow.
The words strike a chord in my chest. No funny business—the same thing she said when I pulled her into the photo booth at the diner.
The Desert Roadside Diner is a hole in the wall on the outskirts of Phoenix known for its comfort food and vibrant, neon decor, and it’s become a go-to stop whenever we’re in town for a show.
The photo booth is a more recent addition, but it seemed like a fun way to ease any remaining first-date jitters.
By the final photo, any lingering hesitation seemed to melt away completely, and I leaned in, but at the final second, Sloane gripped my chin and turned me away to kiss my cheek.
I still have the photo strip, the extra one the booth printed out that she handed me before we parted ways.
“Cross my heart,” I say, and her lips curve upward. We sit on the concrete, and my feet dangle below the surface of the water. I try to filter through the different ways to start this conversation, but when I look at her, my thoughts cease, mesmerized by the view before me.
Sloane sits on the pool’s edge, her knees gently pulled to her chest. The hem of her white cotton dress is draped over her legs, making her sun-kissed skin glow.
Her fingers dance across the surface, tracing invisible, swirling patterns across the water.
When she lifts her gaze, my heart leaps, pounding against my chest. The world seems to dim, and when she smiles, a calming warmth spreads across my skin.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” she asks, crossing her legs and sitting forward.
I clear my throat, ripping my gaze from hers to clear my thoughts. “I, um…I wanted to apologize,” I say. Clearing my throat again, I look back at her. “For the way we left things last year.”
“You don’t—”
“Yes, I do. I handled the end of our date poorly, and I was overthinking things,” I admit.
“I never should’ve left without your number, because I wanted to make it up to you before now, but I didn’t have a way to contact you.
When I saw you at Marie’s, I thought this was my chance to make things right. ”
“I’m glad I ran into you,” she says. “Literally.”
We both laugh, and I can’t help but stare at her. She’s beautiful, more beautiful than I remember, or maybe I’m too caught up in the moment. Either way, I feel my smile grow a little wider when she meets my stare again.
“We could always start over.” Sloane sticks one hand out toward me, and I do the same, engulfing her much smaller hand in mine. I swear, a shiver runs through her when my forefinger brushes across her wrist. “I’m Sloane Pierce.”
“Bennett James, but most people call me Wolf.”
“Well, I’m going to call you Bennett,” she says, and tries to pull her hand from mine, but I hold on to her. Her gaze drops to my lips and back, before she rolls her bottom lip between her teeth.
The space between us lingers, charged with unspoken words, stolen glances, and almost-touches.
I lean in, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation, giving her time to turn away, but she doesn’t.
I pause just short of her lips, and her breath tickles my skin, a hint of citrus from the glass of sauvignon blanc she had earlier.
Everything in me aches to close the final gap, and when she moves in, I finally do.
The kiss is gentle, and warmth spreads from head to toe.
The only thing I can think about is the way her mouth feels against mine.
Her fingers cling to the fabric of my button-down, and her soft whimpers threaten to send me spiraling.
When we part, her smile is infectious, spreading one across my own lips.
A burst of laughter shatters the quiet moment, making us jump apart, and Sloane’s hand flies to her chest.
“Of course,” I breathe out with a soft laugh, looking around for the source of our interruption. It’s the remaining event staff. They sit around a table inside the tent, and one waves her hand wildly as she relays a story that makes the others laugh again.
“Come with me,” I say, extending my hand. Sloane looks at it and then at me, slowly offering her own.
We can’t go inside the house. We could sneak into the guest house, but Brooks and Savannah are staying in there, and I’d rather not spend my time getting to know Sloane on a more intimate level in the same place where they’ve been…Never mind. I don’t even want to think about it.
That leaves one option: the pool house. More specifically, the pool house bathroom.
Sloane walks through the door, and for the first time all day, she looks nervous. Her arms are wound tight around her midsection, and she chews on the corner of her mouth as she takes in our surroundings. Despite the small gap between us, it feels like we’re miles apart.
She gasps when I pull her by the waist into me, capturing her mouth in a firm kiss.
Her lips are soft and inviting. When my tongue sweeps across her bottom lip, she lets me in.
Kicking the door closed, I lift her feet off the ground and place her on the counter.
Standing between her legs, I cradle her neck between my hands as my tongue makes languid strokes against her own, and smile when she whimpers.
With everyone preoccupied by the fireworks show, we should have plenty of time, but it’s not enough.
There are so many things I want to do to this woman, but right now isn’t the time.
There’s less time between explosions now, which means they’ve entered the second half of the display, and we don’t have as much time as I thought. The others have probably noticed our absence by now, and when the show is finished, they’ll come looking.
My right hand trails down her chest, cupping her breast, and her nipple stands at attention through the fabric of her dress—no bra, just like I thought.
Her head falls back against the mirror with a soft moan when I roll the clothed bud between my fingers.
The strap falls down her shoulder, and I attach my lips to the slope of her neck.
I push the hem of her dress up, and a gasp escapes her when my fingers brush against the wet fabric of her underwear.
“We don’t have a lot of time. And while I want nothing more than to bend you over this sink…
” I push her underwear to the side, and my pointer finger glides over her soaked center.
There’s a soft curse under her breath that turns into a soft moan when my finger slips between her folds.
“I don’t particularly want the first time I feel you wrapped around my cock to be in a pool house bathroom while our friends and family are outside. ”
“Bennett.” She gasps when I slide another finger in, hands gripping the fabric covering my shoulders. Fuck, the way she says my name is like music to my ears. Sloane moves her hips, desperate for the friction I haven’t given her yet, and whimpers softly.
“Don’t worry, Honey. I’m just testing the waters…
I want to see what makes you squirm. You won’t walk out of here until you come at least once.
” My fingers crook at the same time my thumb ghosts over her clit, and she practically jumps off the sink.
I’ve thought about this—touching her, tasting her—from the second I saw her sitting in that arena.
There were less-than-gentlemanly thoughts running rampant in my mind the whole night, but I followed her lead and kept my distance.
I bid her goodnight and walked away. Am I supposed to do the same this time? Because I don’t think I can…