Chapter 18 Wyatt
WYATT
MIRA’S TONGUE IS DOWN MY throat. We’re in the front seat of the Jeep, her hair tickling my jaw as she kisses the ever-loving fuck out of me.
It’s the kind of kiss that would normally get me rock-hard.
Passionate. Hungry. But as she devours my mouth and grinds her ass against my fly, I can’t convince my dick to cooperate.
“Missed this,” she murmurs between kisses.
Her hand is already working its way south. She cups me over my jeans, trying to coax a response I can’t seem to give her.
I want this.
I do.
I mean…
I want to want this.
“I need your dick so bad.” She squeezes, and finally my body starts to react.
I let my head fall back against the seat as she undoes my jeans, sliding her hand inside my boxers. I’m semihard by the time she pulls my cock out.
Kissing me again, she wraps her fingers around me and gives a teasing stroke.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I mutter. “Jerk me off.”
Her hand moves more deliberately now. But I’m not getting any harder.
“Wyatt,” she whispers, her lips trailing along the side of my neck. “Relax.”
I’m trying.
I close my eyes and try to focus on the sensation of Mira’s hand on my dick. Instead, my mind flashes to Blake, and now all I can picture is her sarcastic smirk. Her hair.
“Use your mouth,” I grind out.
She kisses her way down and circles my cockhead with her tongue. A jolt of heat travels through me.
My head lolls back.
Okay. We’re getting somewhere.
I thread my fingers through her hair. It’s too…straight. For some reason I expected it to be thicker, wavier—
Fuck!
I still her with my hand. I’ve never stopped a woman mid blowjob, but this is wrong. I’m trying to pretend she’s Blake, and Mira doesn’t deserve that.
“Just relax,” she urges again as my phone suddenly buzzes on the dash.
I ignore the incoming text, touching Mira’s cheek to lift her off my rapidly deflating cock. Not that it was overly inflated in the first place.
“Mira,” I start. “I’m not—”
My phone buzzes again. And then again and again. I realize it’s not a text. It’s a call.
Annoyance flashes in her eyes as I reach for it. “Seriously? I’m sucking your dick, Wyatt.”
“I’m sorry. It might be important.” When I check the screen, my stomach drops, and all traces of arousal leave my body. I already wasn’t feeling this hookup, but seeing Blake’s name on my phone has cemented that.
I answer without delay. “Hey. You okay?”
Her urgent voice fills my ear. “Wyatt. Oh thank God. Can you come get me?”
Is she slurring?
“Get you from where?”
“North shore. Like, a house. I want to leave but there’s no drivers and Landon won’t drive. I mean, he would if he could, but he can’t drive because we’re really, really, really drunk.”
Who the fuck is Landon?
Mira touches my arm and tries to ask a question, but I shrug her off and silence her with a look.
“Where on the north shore?” I’m already starting the engine. “Where did you go?”
“A party. I texted you the address earlier.” Her voice slurs again. “Can’t be here anymore. I don’t feel good. Dizzy and…” She trails off.
Fear fills my throat. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m—” She hiccups. “I’m too drunk. I don’t want to be here anymore. Can you come get me? Please? I didn’t know who else to call.”
“I’m on my way.”
I throw the Jeep in reverse and pull out of our parking space behind the bar. Because yes, I was hooking up in a parking lot behind the bar.
After Blake disconnects, I click on our chat thread. I hadn’t checked my phone when Mira and I were inside, and now I wish I had, because if I’d seen these messages from Blake? She sure as hell wouldn’t have gone to some party at Landon’s house.
Who the fuck is Landon?
“What’s going on? Who was that?” Mira asks suspiciously.
“Blake. Family friend.”
“You mean Blake Logan? I didn’t realize she was in town too.”
“Yeah. She’s drunk at some party, and I need to go get her.” I turn onto the main road, glancing over. “I’m sorry. I’ll drop you off at home first.”
“I can go with you,” Mira offers.
“It’s fine. I can handle it.”
That isn’t the answer she wants to hear, but I don’t care. I ignore her stony expression and drop her off with a muttered “Sorry about tonight,” and she gives a dramatic flip of her hair and slams the door with more force than necessary.
I barely notice.
Anxiety twists in my stomach. What the hell is Blake doing at some random party? And how did she get so wasted she can’t even find her own way home?
And. Who. The. Fuck. Is. Landon.
The drive is a blur, GPS bringing me to a small cabin near Kings Beach.
It’s not a bad area by any means, but considering she mentioned a party, I’m expecting thumping music and a lawn overrun with drunk people.
But it’s eerily quiet, and the only person I see is the slumped-over figure on the front porch.
My heart jumps into my throat when I realize it’s Blake.
I throw open the door and race toward her. “Blake!” I shout, fear racing up my spine.
She’s half sitting, half lying on her side, her cheek pressed against her bent arm. One strap of her floral sundress hangs off her shoulder, and her feet are bare. Where the hell are her shoes?
“Blake,” I say urgently.
She lifts her head, and relief floods my gut to find she isn’t passed out. While her blue eyes are hazy, she doesn’t look completely out of it. Mascara isn’t even smudged.
“Are you okay?” I kneel in front of her and cup her cheeks. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Fine. I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy. Was lying down.”
“Why are you lying down on this asshole’s porch? Where is he?”
“Oh.” She glances around as if realizing she’s alone. “He went inside to use the bathroom. Thought he was coming back out…” She blinks a few times. “Guess he forgot to come back…” She trails off.
I am going to strangle this motherfucker’s throat until his eyes pop out of the sockets.
“How much did you guys drink?”
“Not how much. What.”
“Huh?”
“I only had a few shots. But it was absinthe.”
“Goddamn it, Logan.”
“It was good.” To my utter chagrin, she’s grinning. Pleased with herself. “Maybe not the taste. It’s like…a bag of black licorice exploding in your throat. But then…it’s good!”
I swallow a sigh. “Come on, let’s get you up.” I help her to her feet, but she’s wobbling hard. “Where are your shoes?”
She stares at her feet, but it takes several seconds for it to register there’s nothing on them. “Oh. I…don’t know.”
I nudge her toward the short railing so she’s leaning on something. “Don’t move a muscle. I’m going in there to find your shoes and have a talk with this asshole.”
“Who? Landon?” She gasps. “Oh no, he’s great. Don’t be mad at Landon. He’s not a car. I mean, he can’t drive a car. He’s wasted.”
My anger doesn’t ebb. “He left you out on the porch like a piece of trash, Blake. Wait here.”
I reach the front door just as it swings open and I encounter a familiar mullet.
The bartender from town staggers out, looking worse for wear. Mullet sticking out in all directions. Eyes bloodshot. But his expression brightens when he spots me.
“Yeah! We got a driver!” He peers past my shoulder to grin at Blake. “See! Told ya someone would come.”
“Someone came!” Blake confirms, and they beam at each other like a pair of drunken idiots.
I’m spitting mad. This jackass is just standing there grinning while Blake was alone on the porch steps for God knows how long, her feet dirty and bare, her dress riding up her thighs for the whole goddamn neighborhood to see.
Clenching my jaw, I advance on the mullet. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He startles. Blinking rapidly. “Wha…”
“I showed up here to find her half-asleep on the porch. You left her out here? At midnight?”
“I was pissing,” he protests. “She was fine.”
“Anybody could’ve walked by and found her like that.”
“What are you, her dad—”
I cut him off by grabbing a fistful of his collar and slamming him against the side of the house, hard enough to rattle his teeth.
“She could’ve been hurt, you piece of shit,” I growl. “You left her outside, drunk out of her mind, for who knows how long.”
Landon raises his hands in surrender, gulping visibly. “She’s fine, man. Jesus.”
“She couldn’t even sit up because she was dizzy.” I push him again. “You think abandoning a woman after pouring absinthe down her throat is something men do? Real men? You fucking loser.”
“Wyatt,” Blake protests from the bottom of the steps. Her voice sounds weak.
I draw a calming breath. Force myself to release his collar.
“Good,” he mutters. “Glad you’ve come to your senses—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I interrupt, pinning him with a deadly look. “Don’t ever come near her again, you hear me? Don’t text her. Don’t call her. Don’t even think about her. You’re done.”
I give him a final shove and then twist on my heel.
“Let’s go,” I tell Blake, but she can barely take two steps before stumbling.
When I try to steady her, she bats my hand away.
“I can walk,” she objects.
The last semblance of patience abandons me. “Nope. We’re not doing this.”
Before she can argue, I scoop her up into my arms.
“Wyatt!”
“Shut up,” I grind out. “We’re done talking right now.”
I stalk forward, and her hands instinctively clamp around my neck, holding on tight. She doesn’t fight me, though. She tucks her face against my shoulder and lets me carry her to the Jeep.