Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Cole
Over the next few days, our routine didn’t consist of much outside of the bedroom. I’d have to return to work soon, which meant that I was spending every waking second with Peyton.
The bulk of my job consisted of organizing things: answering phone calls, handling payment schedules, and knowing who to send where.
Most times, that wasn’t enough for me. I’d spent years working my way up, getting my hands dirty for upwards of twelve hours a day.
Sitting behind a desk after all that was a hard thing to get used to.
But that was before Peyton came along. Now? I’d give anything to spend my days tangled up in them and until I needed to get back to work, I was going to do exactly that.
During that time, I learned things about Peyton that I never thought I’d have the pleasure of knowing.
They loved to kiss, and had it down to an art form.
The smooth glide of their tongue along mine never failed to stir those butterflies in my stomach.
They’d kiss me for hours, until I was so hard that I couldn’t even think straight.
They had a birthmark on their hip that, when I licked it, drove them wild.
The spot behind their ear was equally as sensitive.
Hearing Peyton say that they loved me had become my new favorite sound. I’d have done anything they wanted to hear it again.
Currently, that was mouthing over their chest. They still weren’t comfortable going bare, but that was fine by me. I was happy to use my tongue to tease their peaked nipples through the fabric. The move turned them into a babbling mess, and they held me in place with a hand on the back of my neck.
Like I’d want to be anywhere else.
“I love you,” they panted.
My hand was between their thighs and once they throbbed against my fingers, I bit down, eliciting a guttural sound from them that rattled the windows.
Soothing the sting with my tongue, I wrapped my arm around their waist while their orgasm faded.
My cock begged for attention, but I ignored it. They were more important.
That was another thing I’d learned over the last few days: I couldn’t get enough of Peyton McKauley.
I’d be content to never leave the bed again but as I rested my head on their stomach, it rumbled beneath my ear. I laughed, and Peyton squirmed and covered their face. “I should feed you,” I said, kissing their belly piercing. “And change the sheets—again.”
As I climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats, Peyton rose onto their elbows, blushing at the sight of the large wet spot between their thighs. “I won’t apologize for that.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s fucking hot.” I leaned over and licked into their mouth. They grunted into the kiss, holding me in place for a brief moment before I pulled away. “Do you want me to help you clean up?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
With another brief kiss, I left them alone.
The clock on the stove read 6:52—we’d spent all day in bed, but I didn’t even care.
I threw a frozen pizza in the oven and put The Polar Express on the TV for the thousandth time since Peyton had tackled me at my front door.
As much as they said they didn’t feel very festive this year, that movie never failed to have them watching, starry-eyed, with a mug of peppermint hot chocolate in their hands.
Though as soon as I turned my back, it flipped off.
Confused, I whirled around. Peyton stood there, remote in hand, wearing nothing but their binder and a tiny pair of lime green boxer briefs.
Bite marks decorated their torso and the exposed parts of their chest. They set the remote down and faced me, the dark purple bruise on their neck coming into view.
Damn, they looked good wearing my marks.
“You’ve kept me distracted with orgasms and Little space for days now, and I’ve let it slide,” they said, crossing their arms. “It’s time for you to tell me about my house.”
I worried my bottom lip, mulling over how to begin.
Truth be told, the damage wasn’t that bad.
The roof was an easy fix, and the quick work at covering it up spared most of the flooring.
But the quicker repairs were done, the faster Peyton would be able to move back home.
I’d been selfishly keeping it from them in the hopes that it would keep them in my house—in my bed—a little longer. “You want a drink?”
“If you think you can bribe me with hot chocolate again…” I bit my lip harder. Peyton trying to be dominant was adorable. I snickered, and the fight left them. “It might work. Is it that bad?”
I shook my head, pulling out a chair for them to sit down. “It’s not, and I wasn’t thinking of hot chocolate. I’ve got some of that spiced rum you like.”
“You hate spiced rum!”
Soft footsteps padded into the kitchen behind me. I grabbed the bottle from its hiding spot and took a Dr. Pepper from the fridge. “Oh, come on, Peyton. You have to give me more credit.”
I set both bottles on the table along with a glass, letting them be in charge of how much they had.
“You just keep this around in the hopes that I might want some?” Peyton poured themself a drink. A bit more than I would have had personally, but I knew they could handle it. Thick, syrupy cherry vanilla rum drizzled over the ice and settled in the bottom of the glass.
Blech.
“Do you see a seal on that bottle?” I questioned, and their responding flush told me everything I needed to know. “Someone’s been sneaking it at the cookouts, and it hasn’t been me.”
“Damn it,” they muttered.
“Your hiding spot isn’t so hidden. And you get chatty when you drink.”
“How else am I supposed to tolerate interacting with so many people?”
“That’s also why I keep the makeup wipes,” I confessed. “You’re also incredibly lazy when you’re tipsy.”
Peyton’s pink cheeks deepened to a bright red. “Okay, enough torturing me! Start talking about what you and Jesse found.”
“Your house isn’t that bad.”
“It isn’t?”
I shook my head, resting against the counter. “The roof will easily be a day job, and Jesse thinks he can get the floors done in a matter of hours once everything’s dry.”
“Really?”
“Mmhmm…” Feeling oddly vulnerable, I distracted myself by checking on the food in the oven.
It was nowhere near finished, but the threat of rejection churned my gut.
There was every chance that Peyton would want to return to their own house eventually, and that scared me.
“We got it covered quickly enough that the damage is minimal.”
“How much—”
“Don’t worry about the money, Peyton,” I interrupted. “I get discounts on the materials and with me and Jesse doing the work ourselves, we don’t have to pay a crew.”
Peyton stared up at me, brown eyes glistening. A rogue tear escaped, trailing down their cheek and I didn’t hesitate to swipe it away with my thumb. “Thank you,” they whispered, so quietly that had I not been standing so close, I wouldn’t have heard them. “For everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me for any of it.”
“If it’s not so bad, why didn’t you tell me before?”
Uh-oh. I guess I was wrong to think that I would be getting out of addressing that particular question. “I-I um…”
Peyton’s lip quirked into that bratty grin I’d grown to love. Half their drink was gone now, the booze flushing their cheeks and making them a bit more bold than usual. They grabbed their glass, crossing the room to stand in front of me. “Cole Davis, are you nervous?”
“Shut up!” I laughed, snatching the bottle of rum and bringing it to my mouth. Taking a long swig, I grimaced as the sickly sweet, spicy liquid slid down my throat—a combination that shouldn’t work. It only cemented my disdain for the stuff.
“Spit it out, Cole,” Peyton demanded.
I huffed, coughing around the sugary burn that lingered from that disturbing drink. “I may have been a bit selfish.”
Peyton blinked. “You? Selfish?”
I nodded along with them. “Yep.”
Thankfully, the oven timer dinged, giving me a reason to hide in the food.
Unfortunately for me, Peyton wasn’t dropping the matter.
The drink had loosened them up, and they babbled along next to me.
“You might be the least selfish person I know! You took me into your home and took care of me without so much as a second thought—twice! You keep my favorite rum stocked in your cabinet and makeup wipes under your sink for when I’m sick or too drunk to remember to wash my face. ”
“And I don’t want that to end,” I confessed. I kept my back turned, finding our pizza very fascinating. “I didn’t tell you about your house because I don’t want you to go back to it. I’m in love with you, Peyton McKauley. You fit so perfectly here. I don’t want you to leave.”
I was only met with silence. Setting down the pizza roller, I slowly rotated to face Peyton.
They only watched me, nearly empty drink in hand.
Their cheeks were rosy from the alcohol, but that wasn’t what had the color continuing over their neck and down their chest. I took a moment to appreciate them.
Just a few days ago, they wouldn’t have dared stand in front of me in nothing but their underwear.
Now? I’d seen the most intimate parts of them, knew how to unravel them with nothing more than a gentle touch.
They squeezed their thighs together, and I smirked. One look had them squirming.
“Focus, Davis.”
“Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “I know your independence is important to you. You got pulled around from parent to parent and house to house growing up, and I know having your own space was something you were proud of.”
“You’re right,” they admitted. They finished off their drink and strolled closer to me.
“But I’ve spent the better part of the last decade knowing that something was wrong with that place, and unable to put my finger on what it was.
Now I know.” They slipped their arms around my neck and like a magnet, my hands landed on their waist—right where they belonged.
“I was never meant to be there. I was meant to be here, with you. I’m in love with you too. ”
I said nothing, only ducked my head and brought our mouths together. Humming, I licked across the seam of Peyton’s mouth, and that changed my mind about the spiced rum—I’d lick it off their lips any day of the week. Instead of letting me in, they broke the kiss. “Ask me, Cole.”
“Move in with me, Peyton.” The ease in which the words rolled off my lips surprised even me, but I didn’t regret it. Not one bit.
Giggling, Peyton tugged themself closer. “I didn’t hear a question in there.”
“Do you want to tell me no?”
“Absolutely not.”
Peyton sealed their lips over mine, eagerly opening up for me. Tongues met, and my hands slid down to cup their ass. Grumbling, they bit my lip to break the kiss a little too quickly for my liking. “I’m really hungry,” they said, laughing.
There were two versions of Peyton that had no issue in demanding what they needed: Little Peyton, and Tipsy Peyton. And damn I loved every piece of each side. “Guess I’d better feed you before you get hangry.” I gave them a rough smack on the ass, and they yelped.
“I do not get hangry!”
“Oh, don’t make me bring up last Thanksgiving! It wasn’t my fault you skipped breakfast, yet I still have the scar to show for it.”
Peyton snatched the bottle of rum and sauntered over to the table, throwing that smirk over their shoulder.
In the last few days, they’d made themself right at home in my life.
After mixing another drink, they met my eyes over the rim of their glass.
Now, those beautiful brown orbs sparkled for a different reason, and my heart nearly exploded in my chest.
“Where’s my food, Daddy?” they asked, teasingly. Like they couldn’t have possibly made their own plate before they sat down.
“It’s coming.” I pulled a plate from the cabinet, knowing my next move might get me in trouble. I put on my best Hulk voice and growled, “Peyton smash—ah!”
A cold ice cube smacked against my back. I tossed a look over my shoulder. “You’re on, brat.”