Chapter 15
BINX
I ’ve been in love with Seven for a while, but now I’m pretty sure I’m addicted to his body, his touch, his kiss.
To the way he looks at me across the picnic table as we linger over the world’s longest breakfast beneath the autumn leaves…
Saying goodbye is going to be hell, but I refuse to think about that now, not while he’s grinning at me in the sunshine as he sneaks bacon from my plate.
“That’s mine, mister,” I say, narrowing my eyes in mock anger. “You should ask before you steal a girl’s bacon.”
“Then it wouldn’t be stealing,” he says, his eyes dancing as he pops my last bite into his mouth. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”
I arch a teasing brow, loving that I don’t have to fight the urge to flirt with him anymore. “Oh yeah? How are you going to do that? Especially if you’re working on staining cabinets all day?”
He hums low in his throat. “Maybe I could be convinced to leave the cabinets for another day and take you on an adventure instead.”
I sit up straighter, every cell in my body perking up. “Now, you’re talking. What kind of adventure?” I wrinkle my nose as I add, “As long as it doesn’t involve too much walking. My wowies are much better, but a long walk probably isn’t a great idea.”
He smiles, a fond grin that makes me want to crawl across the table and into his arms. “Wowies… You’ve been spending too much time with Sprout.”
“I like that she calls them wowies. Much more badass than owie. Makes a wound sound like a badge of honor.”
“It does,” he agrees. “I was thinking we could take the four-wheeler out to a place I know. I checked this morning and our kidnappers forgot to empty the gas tank. We still have enough left to get us halfway to Bad Dog if we wanted.”
I bite my lip. “But you don’t want…do you? I know I don’t.”
He shakes his head as he reaches across the table, looping his fingers around my wrist. “No, I don’t. I want to soak up every second I have left with you.”
The reminder that we have an expiration date brings us both down for a second, but then Seven adds, “And I want to fuck you in one of my favorite places in the world,” and my blood starts buzzing again.
I lean in, asking, “In the outdoors? Isn’t that kind of scandalous?”
“The bathtub is outdoors.”
“Well, yes, but it’s on a porch, close to a house. That’s almost indoors. And it was dark out. Getting busy in the middle of the day in the woods is another thing entirely. There could be game cameras anywhere. You never know.”
He winks. “Who said it was in the woods?”
I arch a brow. “Um, look around. There’s nothing but woods around here. It has to be in the woods.”
“Does it?” He turns my hand over, tracing a line up my wrist to my forearm with his finger that makes me burn. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see. You’ll want to pack a sweatshirt. I know it’s weirdly warm today, but it might not be where we’re going.”
I tap my foot beneath the table, my thoughts racing. “Might not be where we’re going… Is it a cave? It’s a cave, isn’t it?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not telling.”
“It has to be a cave. That’s the only logical explanation for why it would be colder and not in the forest. But it has to be a cave without bats, okay? Tessa and Wesley had to get rabies shots after they went crawling around in a cave with bats. It sounded horrific. It was like…half a dozen shots spread out over a month or something.”
His smile widens. “Head back and grab your sweatshirt and the water bottles. I’ll check on the four-wheeler and meet you in the shed.”
I scrunch my face into an expression of exaggerated irritation. “No bats. I’m serious. I can’t deal with bats. Rabies is serious business, and they’re way too rodent adjacent. They’re basically rats with wings, and I’ve already been attacked by a groundhog.”
“Attacked might be a strong word,” he says, releasing my hand and rising from his side of the table. “Tater Tot was just trying to be friendly.” He leans in, lowering his voice as he begins to stack our plates. “Don’t look now, but I think he’s still a fan of yours. He’s been hiding out in the leaves over there eyeing your tasty backside for a while now.”
I flinch and spin to look behind me, making Seven laugh.
Once I’m sure the leaves are groundhog-free, I spin back to him, smacking his arm as I stand. “What a jerk you are. Making fun of my rodent phobia isn’t funny.”
“Kind of funny,” he says. “I’ve never seen you afraid of anything before. It’s a novel experience.”
“I’m afraid of lots of things,” I say, stacking our coffee mugs on top of the plates. “I’m just good at hiding it most of the time.”
He sobers, his brow furrowing. “Like what? And why do you hide it?”
I shrug, but hold his gaze as I ask, “I don’t know, why do any of us hide our weak spots? The world isn’t really a safe place for weakness. I mean, you hide your weak spots, too.”
“What weak spots?” he quips with that easy grin I’m coming to love.
He should grin like that more often, but only for me.
When I shoot him a narrow look, he tips his head in acknowledgement of the fact that he might have a weak spot or two. “Yeah, I do. But it’s not socially acceptable for men to be weak. Not in the circles I run in anyway.”
“It isn’t okay for women to be weak, either. Not anymore,” I say. “But it’s also not okay to be too strong. When you are, you become a target for people who don’t like girls who color outside the lines. They want to crush your will to live before it gets too strong for their liking. That can be shitty, even scary, sometimes.” I shrug. “But I’m not going to stop being myself because a chunk of the world would like me better if I shut my mouth and played by their stupid rules.”
“Fuck ‘em, you’re perfect, just the way you are.” He leans over, pressing a kiss to my cheek before whispering, “And in my book? Strong is sexy as hell.”
“Good to know,” I whisper back, wishing he would forget about the four-wheeler and take me on the picnic table.
“See you in a few. And I promise, no bats.” He grins as he pulls away and starts toward the shed. I force a smile, too, but it only lasts as long as it takes for him to turn his back on me.
Then I suck in a breath and fight the urge to fall apart.
Because that? Those things he just said?
It’s everything I’ve wanted a man to say to me my entire life. It’s what I’ve wanted my parents to say to me, too, but that’s a whole other load of psychological baggage I’m too overwhelmed to think about right now.
God, why can’t he see that he’s everything I need? Everything I want and could ever wish for?
I don’t care about the age gap. I don’t care that he doesn’t want more children or that I’d be getting a kid as well as a husband if we ended up going all the way together.
I love Sprout. I adore every piece of her crazy, meddling, bossy, beautiful little self. Getting to help raise her would be an honor I wouldn’t take lightly. I may be young, but I grew up in a big family with tons of cousins. I know what a huge responsibility it is to raise a child. I’d be going into the stepmom gig with my eyes wide open.
Surely, there has to be a way to get through to Seven.
Surely, all the red hot fuckery going on around here might wear him down at least a little. Because…woah, is it wearing on me. I thought I’d had some pretty fantastic sex in my life, but nothing I’ve done with anyone else can compare to the way I feel when Seven’s hands are on me, when his gaze is locked on mine as he fills me.
And his cock? It’s an enchanted love wand of unparalleled spectacular-ness so magical, that not even calling it something dorky like a “love wand” can diminish it’s fantasticness in any way.
The thought of his love wand— my love wand—going on to fuck other women makes me want to burn down the world. I mean, I knew I had a jealous side, but this is crazy. As I went to sleep last night, a part of me was already planning ways to ensure Pammy is never alone with Seven again. I’ll put a tracking device on her car and tail her around town if I have to.
I mean, I won’t actually do that—I’m not insane—but I’m not above using underhanded methods to keep the thirsty women of Bad Dog at bay. Surely, Pammy, an older woman with no kids, would prefer a man without a young child she would have to help raise. I could sneakily set her up with one of my guy friends whose kids are already out of the house. None of them are half as hot as Seven, but Sprout isn’t going to make things pleasant for anyone her dad might decide to date who isn’t me. I know that kid, and she’s as stubborn as her father and even more determined to get her way.
A nice, slightly-less-hot boyfriend without a daughter who puts Nair in your shampoo bottle and chicken poop in your purse might start looking pretty good to Pammy after a while…
“Get a grip,” I mutter to myself as I drop the dirty dishes in the sink inside, grab a sweatshirt from the bureau, then head back into the kitchen to fill our water bottles. “You can’t go full stalker on him. You promised you’d say goodbye after Friday. That was the deal, and you never go back on a deal.”
I don’t. I’m a woman of my word.
I guess I’ll just have to hope all the fun we’re having will change Seven’s mind. And if not, at least we’ll go out with a bang.
Several bangs, in fact…
I’m almost done filling the water bottles when Seven is suddenly behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist and his erection pressed into the hollow of my spine. “I’m sorry,” he says, into my hair. “I’m a sick fuck who can’t go ten minutes without being inside you. Just tell me to get off you, and I’ll pull my shit together, I promise.”
“Don’t get off me,” I say, arching my back until my ass rubs against his balls. “Get off in me. I was just thinking about how much I wanted you to take me on the picnic table when we were outside.”
“Fuck, woman, you should have said something.”
“Next time, I will,” I say, gasping as he drags his teeth across the skin at my neck.
A beat later, his hands are up my shirt, dragging my bra down beneath my breasts. He plays with my nipples, making me gasp as I shove my leggings and underwear down to my knees. I reach back, fumbling for the close of his pants, then give up and tug them down as best I can, freeing his long, hot length with shaking hands.
I’m literally shaking. I want him that much.
We had sex less than an hour ago. I shouldn’t be this hungry for him again already, but…I am. This man does things to me, things no man has ever done before, and I’m guessing none will ever do again. I can’t imagine feeling this way about anyone else. This mixture of easy friendship and combustible chemistry isn’t something you find every day.
It’s rare. Precious.
Worth fighting for…
“Yes, oh God, yes,” I cry out as he fits his cock to my entrance and shoves inside me, fast and hard.
And deep…so fucking deep.
I love how he fills every inch of me, until it’s almost too much, until it almost hurts, but doesn’t, because all he has to do is look at me and I’m soaked for him.
“Binx, fuck, baby,” he moans against my neck as he braces one hand on the counter and wraps the other around my waist, holding me tight as he pistons inside me. “I can’t get enough of you. You drive me fucking crazy.”
“Me, too,” I say, arching my back, taking him even deeper.
“Your body, your smell, your taste,” he says, biting the place where my neck meets my shoulder, his teeth digging in deeper as he groans and fucks me harder.
It’s animalistic and raw and gets me going like no quickie I’ve ever had before. The second he slides his hand from my waist to touch my clit, I explode, screaming out my orgasm into the quiet morning air, waves of pleasure stealing my breath away. He continues to grind the heel of his hand against my most electric, sensitive place, as he takes me with increasingly wild thrusts. Soon, I’m sagged against the counter, barely able to stand as I come again.
Seven joins me a second later, his cock jerking inside me as he groans sweet and filthy things about how much he loves coming inside my tight little pussy into my hair.
Afterwards, we remain folded over the counter for a long moment, catching our breath until I feel hot liquid slither down my thigh. “I should grab a paper towel,” I say, reaching for the roll on the other side of the sink with a pleasure-limp arm.
“No, let me,” he says, pressing a final kiss to my shoulder.
Then, he reaches for the paper towels, wets one with a bit of cool water from the sink, and cleans my thighs and the tops of my bandages with a gentle attention to detail that’s every bit as charming as his feral, sex beast side. The fact that he has that inside him, and it coexists so peacefully with his nurturing self, is my personal romantic kryptonite.
If I weren’t in love with him already, I would be by the time he tidies my sensitive sex with tender swipes of the cloth, finishing with a kiss to my ass cheek that makes me smile.
“Thanks for the help,” I say, as he tosses the paper towel in the trash beneath the sink and stands to wrap his arms around me again from behind. “But I should probably pull up my pants.”
“Never,” he says, his hand coming to rest low on my bare stomach, just above where my belly becomes something more intimate. “You don’t need pants. Your pussy told me she enjoys the open air, and being free and ready to fuck me at a moment’s notice.”
I snort. “Oh, she did, did she? What else did she say?”
He hums, and kisses my cheek, making my soul glow a little brighter before he says, “That my cock is her favorite cock.”
“No lies detected,” I murmur, “but there’s one problem with this story.”
“And what’s that?”
“My pussy isn’t a she. She’s a he, and his name is Jerry.”
“Jerry?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, fighting a smile with everything in me. “Jerry. You have a problem with the name Jerry?”
“No, not at all,” he says, playing along. “Just kind of a straight-laced name for a wild little pussy like her—I mean him , excuse me. But who am I to judge?”
“Exactly,” I say, huffing in surprise when Seven gives the patch of hair on my mound a little smack. “What was that for?”
“It was a high five,” he says. “For Jerry. So that he knows I still want to be special friends.”
I bite my lip, nearly losing it. “Yeah? You don’t mind that he’s a boy?”
“Nah, I don’t care. Love is love, right? And what Jerry and I have is too special to be destroyed by something as silly as whether he’s a boy pussy or a girl pussy.”
My smile fading a little, I say, “Well, good. Jerry’s happy to hear that. So am I.”
It’s fun being silly with Seven, but hearing him toss the “L” word around in a joking way is hard to take. The “L” word isn’t a joke for me. I “L” word Seven even more now than I did five minutes ago, and I have a feeling it’s only going to get worse.
By the time Wendy Ann picks us up on Friday morning, I’ll be like one of those lovesick Victorian women who locked themselves up in their crumbling mansions and wasted away from a broken heart.
No, you’re not. We don’t waste away; we rise and fight, a voice whispers in my head as Seven finally allows me to pull up my pants and we get our water bottles ready to go. You still have time.
The inner voice is right.
This isn’t over until it’s over, and I haven’t even begun to fight.