Chapter 38 Wyatt
WYATT
THE DADS ARE FEUDING. WHICH would be funny if I weren’t part of the feud. Like, if this was AJ hooking up with Ivy? Or Beau hooking up with Alex? Hilarious.
Unfortunately, it’s me hooking up with Blake, and that means we’re the ones caught in the middle of this storm and the ones everyone glares at when the feud gets particularly annoying. For example, during tonight’s dinner.
“Can someone please tell Mr. Logan to pass the mashed potatoes?”
“Can someone please tell Mr. Graham that he needs to lay off all the butter because he’s starting to look flabby?”
“Can someone please tell Mr. Logan to piss off and that if he’s so inclined, I will challenge him to a push-up contest on the dock?”
“Can someone please tell—”
“No!” my mother bursts out. “No! We’re done here!”
Grace nods firmly. “Get your plates, everyone. We’re eating outside. They’re staying in here.”
“Oh, no, thank you,” Dean says, and Tucker nods in agreement. “We’ll stay and watch if you don’t mind.”
“Suit yourselves,” Grace says.
Everyone else scrapes back their chairs and marches toward the french doors. AJ snickers under his breath, glancing over at me.
“Damn, Wyatt, you broke their brains.”
Logan overhears that and growls at AJ. “Shut it, Connelly. You’re already on thin ice because your father tried to steal my best friend and—you know what? Jake can have him.” He flashes a big, fake smile at my father.
It’s been three days of this.
It’s also been three days of insomnia, because apparently, if Blake isn’t wrapped around me, I can’t sleep.
And it’s been three days of blue balls, because I can’t fuck her.
Which means three days of jerking off, an activity that isn’t that much fun when I know my girl’s tight pussy is two doors down.
But I’d never risk it in the house now, not with her father scowling at me any time I enter a room. It sort of makes me want to head back to Nashville early, but the idea of saying goodbye to her…
Agony.
Fuck. I need to get ahold of myself. This isn’t who I am. I don’t panic at the thought of moving on. Blake and I will still be friends once the sex runs its course. We’ll always be friends.
You don’t want to be her fucking friend, an incredulous voice says, but I silence it before the accusation can take root in my mind.
After dinner, the Golden Boys and I drive into town to shoot pool.
Tara tags along, but she passes the time sitting at a high-top table on her phone, legs crossed and miniskirt riding up her tanned thighs.
We team up—Beau and me versus AJ and Gray.
But it’s sort of hard to enjoy the game when my partner keeps giving me surly looks.
I tried to warn her. I told her that Beau has a thing for her, but Blake just shrugged it off. Women don’t want to see the things that make them uncomfortable.
Despite the rising tension between us, Beau and I win the first game.
While Gray racks the balls for round two, AJ goes to get another pitcher of beer.
The Golden Boys are twenty, so they all use fake IDs.
I find that hilarious, as I’m sure most of the bartenders in Tahoe know who their fathers are and could easily google their ages and find out they’re minors.
But AJ strolls back with a second pitcher, no problem.
Pouring myself a pint, I notice AJ and Gray smirking at me.
“What?” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Are we seriously not gonna address this Blake thing?” AJ demands.
“Seriously,” Gray agrees. “We’ve been so patient.”
“Giving you space,” adds AJ.
“Trying to be cool about it,” continues Gray. “But…dude. It’s been three days.”
“I know you like to live on the edge,” AJ says in amusement, “but pissing off Logan by banging his baby girl? You’ve got balls of steel, bro.”
I notice Beau draining more than half of his pint glass—which he filled literally five seconds ago.
“Slow down,” I murmur.
That gets me a derisive snort. “Why? I’m on fucking vacation.” Then, as if to spite me, he chugs the rest of the glass and pours himself another.
Okay then. If he wants to get loaded, go nuts, buddy.
I end up drinking more than usual myself, at least compared to this past month.
I started the summer pounding beers like mints, sometimes before noon, but I’ve cut back significantly since getting a handle on the insomnia.
However, after three days of nonstop tension and feeling like I’m under a microscope, I’ve earned the right to let loose.
I’m unsteady on my feet by the time we leave the bar. AJ’s girlfriend is our designated driver and surprisingly patient as she helps her boyfriend into the passenger’s seat. Tara’s been nothing but bitchy and entitled since they got here, so it’s nice to see she actually cares about the guy.
AJ is even drunker than I am. He collapses in his seat and cranks open the window, then passes out with his arm hanging out of the car. I sit in the back with Gray and Beau, texting Blake because I’m drunk and horny and I miss her.
Be home in 15. Meet me behind the boathouse.
FRECKLES
Ooh, we’re taking risks again?
Yes.
FRECKLES
Thank God.
It’s pitch-black later when I stumble through the shadows behind the boathouse. I find her leaning against the wall, wearing a loose T-shirt that hangs over her shoulder, no bra strap. That’s my girl. And she’s in a skirt. Definitely my girl.
“Hi—” she starts, but my hands slide under the hem of her shirt, and her hello dissolves into a quiet sigh.
She smells so good. Like summer and sex and lavender. My lips skim her neck, and I drag my tongue along her soft skin, tasting her. Meanwhile, I’m already pushing my hips against her body, trying to get closer.
When she reaches down and squeezes my ass, I groan. Loudly.
“Someone’s going to catch us if you do that again,” she whispers, even as she’s wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me even closer.
As much as I want to take my time with her, sink down on my knees, bring her pussy to my face, and fuck her with my tongue, we’re on borrowed time, and every second we drag out this encounter, we’re in danger of someone catching us.
“Freckles, you know I could spend the rest of my life on my knees making you come…” My hands slide under her skirt, and I stroke her thighs before gripping her ass cheeks. No panties. God, she’s perfect.
“But?” she prompts.
I lick my lips, trying to remember what I was saying before her ass distracted me. “But tonight I need to be selfish and use this tight body before I fucking explode. Are you gonna let me do that?”
With a tiny smile, Blake rises on her tiptoes and leans in until her mouth is a scant inch from mine. “Wyatt?”
“Hmm?” I’m still squeezing her ass.
“Give me your dick.”
And then my good, obedient girl turns around and lifts up her skirt.
Goddamn perfect.
I undo my pants and slip my fingers in the crease of her ass, dragging them lower until I find her pussy.
She’s wet and ready for me, and while I’d love nothing more than to slide my bare dick in there and feel her soaking me, we’ve already been there, done that, gotten the Plan B T-shirt. I’m not taking that risk again.
I fish out the condom I stashed in my back pocket and roll it on, then follow through on my seductive threat—I bend her over and thrust deep inside her. When she moans, I curl my arm around her body and bring my hand to her mouth to cover it. She bites my palm, and I have to choke down my own moan.
“Be quiet,” I say. “Just let me use you.”
Rather than take offense, she bucks against me, her inner muscles clamping tight.
I smile. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”
The back of her head moves as she nods.
“Can I take my hand off your mouth?”
She nods again.
I move my hand and slide it through her hair, wrapping a hunk of it in my fist. And that’s how I fuck her—fast, deep strokes, one hand pulling her hair, the other hand squeezing her tits.
I drive my cock into her until we’re both breathless.
I come without telling her, jerking with pleasure, my teeth digging into her shoulder to stifle a groan.
I don’t know if she has an orgasm, but she looks sated when she twists around to kiss me.
I pull out and wrap the condom in a tissue I also brought for this exact purpose, then shove it in my pocket.
“That was fun,” Blake murmurs, and I grin.
“You head back first. I’ll wait a few minutes.”
Before she can go, something thuds inside the boathouse. We both freeze. That sounded like footsteps.
Her hand closes around mine. “Did you hear that?”
I nod warily. “Raccoon maybe?”
“Raccoons don’t sound like human footsteps.” Blake creeps along the wall. “I think someone’s in there.”
It’s one in the morning. There’s no reason for anyone to be inside the boathouse. On the roof, maybe, if you’re smoking a late-night joint. In the apartment, sure, if you need somewhere to crash. But among the boat slips? No.
I move ahead of her and quietly round the side of the boathouse. I wince when the wooden planks creak under my shoes.
“Stay behind me,” I murmur. “Could be someone breaking in.”
I reach the door, my hand hovering over the handle. Before I can ease it open, there’s another muffled sound. A giggle.
I turn to Blake, whose lips have twisted into a frown. “There’s a girl in there,” she whispers.
She comes up beside me as I open the door just a tiny crack for us to peer inside.
At first, all I see are shadows. The cruiser is tied off on the pier, but the bowrider and motorboat bob gently in their wells, and I don’t see anybody on them.
My gaze travels across the huge space toward the old workbench against the back wall.
I glimpse another shadow. No, two shadows.
The bench jostles and a coil of rope falls to the ground, the soft thud reverberating through the boathouse.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, the two shadows become two figures. A woman falling back on her elbows while pulling up her shirt. Platinum-blond hair catches in the moonlight slicing in from the small window.
“For God’s sake, get inside me already.” A female voice, soft and breathless.
There’s another flash of blond hair. Beau is undoing his pants. He shoves the zipper down and reaches inside. I close the door before I see the rest.
Blake and I back up, eyeing each other in shock.
“That was Tara,” she hisses.
I nod grimly. Yes. Yes, it was.
From inside the boathouse, we hear a low moan, followed by a higher-pitched one and then the unmistakable sound of the workbench rattling as Beau pounds into his best friend’s girlfriend.