Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
G annon
“I’m here,” I say, pulling up to the curb in front of a small green house with white shutters. The place is lit up like the Fourth of July.
“Gan, I owe you one,” Tate says. “Thanks for doing this. I know rescuing women isn’t in your repertoire.”
You’d be surprised what’s in my repertoire lately.
I clear the GPS on my dash. “Want to give me her address in case she’s out of it?”
“Yeah. Good idea. Hang on, and let me find it.”
I roll down the passenger’s side window and take in the address Tate gave me to Courtney’s.
In what can only be described as a work of God, Carys revealed via text what I know she’d only normally tell Tate. And once I pieced together what was going on—and that there was no way in hell she was grabbing a rideshare with a stranger while inebriated—all it took was a quick call to innocently put myself in the middle of the situation.
And Tate will remain none the wiser.
“All right,” Tate says. “It’s 3086 Aviana Drive.”
I punch that into my system and watch as the maps calculate the fastest route. “Got it.”
“I know I’ve already said it, but thank you for picking her up. Small miracles, I guess.”
“That’s me. A miracle worker.”
Tate snorts. “Let me know how it goes.”
“See ya.”
“Bye.”
I take a deep breath and then call Carys’s phone. It rings all the way through before her voicemail picks up.
My jaw ticks as I press her name again. It rings five times before she answers.
“Hello?” she says, clearly confused. “Gannon?”
“You have two choices, Miss Johnson.”
“Is that so?”
“You can come outside and get in my car so I can drive you home. Or I can come inside and make a spectacle in front of all your friends. You choose.”
She hums. “How do you even know where I am?”
“Do you want to test me?”
“Maybe.”
I sigh. “Tate gave me the address. I put it in my GPS—the same GPS that currently shows me that it will take eight minutes to get to your house.”
“You asked Tate where I am?” she squeaks.
“No, I didn’t. He asked me to come get you. Funny how things work out sometimes. Now, get in this fucking car, or I’m coming in.”
“I thought we established earlier today that you would not, in fact, be coming in anything to do with me.”
My teeth grind so hard that I can hear them.
“Fine,” she says, huffing. “I’m coming.”
“I’m in front of the house.”
She disconnects the call, and I wait. People stream in and out, climbing into cars and some walking down the sidewalk. No one appears to be too intoxicated to drive, thank God. Carys appears on the porch just as my impatience begins to get to me.
Ho-ly fuck .
My eyes nearly fall out of my head as she steps onto the sidewalk.
Her dress hugs her curves, showcasing her full chest and narrow waist. Her legs are long as hell. Instead of her usual ponytail, her hair’s styled into loose curls that make me want to wrap my hands in it and pull.
I hop out of the car as she gets closer and pull the passenger’s side door open. I’m careful not to breathe her in, and I definitely don’t make physical contact.
My restraint has limitations.
“Now you want to be a gentleman?” she asks, swaying on her heels.
This woman . “Just get in the fucking car.”
She pauses. “Yes, Gannon, I’d love a ride home. Thank you so much for being so kind about it.”
I stare at her.
She rolls her eyes but climbs inside.
I slam the door a little harder than necessary.
“Buckle up,” I say as I get in my side and fasten mine.
“Yes, Daddy.”
My hand stills. “ Don’t .”
“Why?” Her pretty little eyes sparkle with mischief. “We know you won’t spank me.”
I glance down at the inside of her exposed thighs and swallow.
“Whoa,” she says as I hit the gas and propel us onto the street. “If you’re going to be a dick about this, you shouldn’t have come. I didn’t ask you to be my hero.”
“What was I supposed to do? Know you’ve been drinking and are going to take a rideshare home alone this late?”
“Who said I was going home alone?”
I look at her and catch her smirk.
The GPS says to take a right, so I do.
“Did Tate really ask you to come get me?” she asks.
I can’t tell whether she’s hopeful that he did or wishes he didn’t. Truthfully, I don’t know what I think anymore either. Carys scrambles my brain in every way, and I hate that she can get to me. No one gets to me. I’m un-get-to-able.
“Yes, he did,” I say.
“ Oh .”
The dejection in her voice is evident, and I feel like a prick. But I won’t admit that I orchestrated this. Even so, I can be a little more honest with her.
“Tate and I happened to be on the phone,” I say, sighing. “It just worked out.”
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t say a word for the rest of the way to her house. Her head rests against the headrest, and her eyes flutter closed. The pucker of her lips is sweet, and it takes everything in me not to brush mine against them.
Not to slip my hand between her thighs.
Not to pull her tits out of that fucking dress.
The pent-up frustration—that’s grown through the afternoon and evening—has reached its crescendo, and I’m about to blow in so many ways.
I turn the car off and get out. The night air is warm and windless. The sky overhead is dark and starless. It’s a suspended moment in time that I’m sure will be etched in my mind for all eternity.
She startles awake once I open her door and the streetlight shines on her face.
“Hey,” I say, catching the way my voice has unintentionally softened. “Ready to go inside?”
“ What? Yeah.” She nods as if the situation is just making sense. “Where’s my purse?”
“On the floor. I’ll grab it. Let’s get you out of there first.”
She places her small hand in mine and uses me as leverage to swing her legs around, but as soon as her feet touch the ground, she winces.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
“These shoes. I don’t know if I can walk in them.”
“Want to take them off?”
She nods nervously, placing one hand on her stomach. “I’m afraid if I bend over, I might puke.”
Great . I exhale harshly and drop to one knee. What the fuck am I doing ?
“Give me your foot,” I say, holding out a hand.
She lifts her right leg and places her sole in my palm.
I hold my breath and focus on her shoe and not on the fact that my face is level with her pussy.
Why are you doing this to yourself, Brewer? You’re not even a nice guy. You could’ve easily avoided this.
I slide a hand up the back of her leg, then wrap it around her calf. She gasps a small breath just loud enough for me to hear. I force a swallow, feeling the softness of her bare skin against my palm, and undo the clasp with my free hand.
“There,” I say quietly, removing the shoe from her foot.
Our eyes meet as I turn to her other foot. The power of the connection stalls my movement, and I search her eyes— for what ? I don’t know. But I’m sure that she has the power to make a mess of my life if I let her. I’m also pretty damn sure I’d consider it, given the chance.
Don’t lose your head, asshole.
My fingers drag around her other leg before sinking into her delicate skin. The clasp comes off easily, and the shoe falls into my hand. I linger a moment, absorbing the contact, before placing her foot gently on the pavement.
“How’s that?” I ask, standing with her shoes dangling from my fingers.
“Great.” She holds my gaze as she stands. There’s a storm of emotion in her baby blues, triggering a wave of heated emotions coursing through my body. “I can make it from here.”
I reach for her purse and hand it to her. I need to send her on her way—get the fuck out of here—and put some distance between us before I’m balls deep inside her.
“I’m walking you inside,” I say instead . Oh, that’s fucking great. Have my brain and body forgotten how to communicate?
“Suit yourself.”
I shut the door behind her and follow her from a safe distance. She rummages around in her purse for her keys. Then, after a bit of fumbling, she undoes the lock.
“Home sweet home,” she says, reaching inside and turning on the light. Then she faces me. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. Do I ask you to come in for a drink? Or tell you to kick rocks?”
“I think you’ve had enough drinks for one night.”
She laughs knowingly. “That’s probably true.” She steps inside the foyer and takes a deep, labored breath. “Thank you for bringing me home. I know it probably pained you to be alone with me since you only wanted to see me in a public place, but I do appreciate it.”
“Will you stop it?”
“Stop what?” She flinches. “Look, I have had a lot of wine tonight, but didn’t our texts start tonight with you saying you want to meet me in public? As a matter of fact, didn’t you initiate this conversation tonight? Don’t tell me to stop it. Stop yourself.”
I stare at her. She lifts her chin and meets my gaze head-on.
Her advice is spot-on. I need to stop myself. Except … I can’t.
“This isn’t exactly public, but you might as well say what you wanted to say,” she says, narrowing her eyes as if she’s over my antics. “It’ll save us time.”
I wanted to meet her to tell her that what happened today in the maintenance closet can’t happen again, and I wanted to ensure it was a public meeting so it couldn't happen again. Because every time I’m around her, all I want to do is touch her. Keep her there as long as possible. But here we are, alone, with her looking like a fucking dream. All the strength I had earlier when plotting my plan is gone.
I want her. My God, I want this woman . I want her in every way, in every position, every day.
“Well, speak,” she says, lifting a brow. “Or don’t.”
She swings the door to shut it, but I catch it just before it latches.
I step inside the foyer as she disappears around the corner, tossing her shoes next to a little bench. They rattle as they hit the floor.
“If you don’t want me in here, you better tell me now,” I call after her.
“I don’t give a shit what you do.”
“Nice.” I groan, closing the door and following the sound of her voice. “Are you just going to keep walking away from me?”
She spins around in front of a fireplace, her eyes wild. “What would you rather I do?”
It’s a loaded question with far too many answers for it to feel safe. What would I rather her do? Get out of that dress and bend over the ottoman. What do I need her to do? Tell me to fuck off and leave.
“It seems to me that there’s nothing I can do that’ll make you happy,” she says.
I laugh in frustration. “I’ve never said that.”
A slow grin slips across her mouth, and the wildness in her eyes turns into a twinkle. She takes a step toward me, and I know I’m fucked.
“There’s no one here but us,” she says, stopping in front of me. “And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to try to make you happy.”
She nibbles her bottom lip, gazing up at me with doe eyes. Little minx .
“No one to hear us,” she says breathlessly. “No one to see. No one to tell.”
Her fingertip drags lazily across my mouth.
A fire is lit in my veins, and it races through me like a stick of dynamite. I feel alive. Energized. Turned the fuck on .
My head spins as I try to be rational. I’m flirting with a line in the sand I drew years ago. There are reasons, good ones, that I shouldn’t be here—shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be contemplating doing a hell of a lot more.
But I can’t stop. I don’t want to.
“You said it would never be enough,” she says, watching her finger trace my jaw and then down the side of my neck. “Let me ask you this. Why is that a problem?” Her gaze flicks to mine. “Since when is too much fucking a problem?”
“There’s no such thing as too much fucking, Miss Johnson.”
She nods in agreement. “That’s true. So why won’t you strip me down right now and rail me?”
“ Fucking hell .” I grit my teeth, trying desperately to remember she’s been drinking. “You don’t mean that.”
Her hand falls to my crotch, and she begins unzipping my pants. “I assure you I do.”
I snatch her wrist and bring her hand between us.
“You don’t want your dick sucked?” she asks, grinning sweetly. “If you’re worried that I’ll fall in love with you …” She lifts on her toes until her mouth hovers against mine and whispers, “I won’t.”
“Are you sure about that?”
The heat of her breath licking across my lips sends a shiver down my spine. My head spins as I struggle to remain calm and composed, and it takes everything I have to ignore the feeling of her breasts against my chest.
“I only want one thing from you,” she says, grinning. “And it’s not your heart.”
Motherfucker . I lace my fingers through hers, peering into her baby blues. “That’s good because I don’t have a heart to give you.”
“Perfect.”
“Perfect, huh?” I ask, grinning.
Carys leads me to the sofa and places her hands on my shoulders. She gives me a gentle push, so I give in and fall to the cushions. She stands, straddling one knee between her legs, and peers down at me through thick lashes.
“Yeah, perfect. With hearts come feelings, and there’s only one feeling that I’m interested in—orgasms,” she says. “If things get too feely, I’m out.”
I ball my fists to keep from touching her.
“What about Tate?” I ask, wondering if I poke around enough, she’ll come to her senses and realize I’m too old and this is too complicated—and will never go anywhere. And none of that is what she really wants.
She places one knee to my left and the other to my right. She shimmies forward until she’s straddling me with her pussy sitting on top of my cock. I let out a hiss, digging my fingers into her waist to keep her from moving.
“You seem to be a lot more worried about Tate than I am,” she says, trying to wiggle out from my grasp. I cinch my hands around her even tighter. “Tate’s just afraid you’ll break my heart. But how can you break it if I don’t give it to you?”
I look at her questioningly. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or offended. “You can just decide you won’t give it to me? It’s that easy?”
“Why would I allow myself to let you in that far when you just said you don’t have a heart to give me? Doesn’t seem like a fair trade.”
Okay, fair. “Good point.”
She tosses her head to the side, her hair falling across her shoulder.
“You are fucking beautiful,” I say, trying to control myself. “But you’re going to have to get off me.”
One of her hands slips behind my head. She lifts up, arching her back and widening her knees. She grinds against my throbbing cock. Her tits are right in front of my face, brushing against my lips. Teasing me. Tormenting me.
Just pull her dress down, and they’ll be in your mouth, asshole.
“Fuck me, Gannon.”
She pulls my face forward, burying it in her cleavage. She smells sweet, and the skin is soft and damp. Her tits slide along my face as she moves her body against mine. The heat of her pussy blazes against my dick, and I want so badly to reach beneath her dress and feel how soaked she is for me.
“No one will know,” she says, rocking back and forth. “I just need to feel you inside me.”
I grit my teeth and dig deep—deeper than I’ve ever had to search for restraint. The control I pride myself upon is slipping fast. But instead of panicking, I want to let it go. I want to give in.
I want to give in to her.
“Hey, quit it,” I say, squeezing her waist and holding her steady. She squirms in my hands. “ Stop .”
She pulls back with her mouth hanging open. “Why?”
I can’t remember . I suck a breath in through my teeth and focus on not coming in my pants. If she moves again, I’m going to explode.
“You’ve been drinking,” I say, my throat pinched.
“So?”
“So I’m not fucking you like this.”
“Then let me fuck you .”
I lift her up and set her beside me. Then I stand while I still can.
“Where is your kitchen?” I ask, running a hand over my jaw.
“I fucking hate you.”
“Excellent. Kitchen?”
She points toward the archway and glares at me.
I exhale, rolling my eyes—mostly at myself. I just let things get beyond messy, and I have no idea how to fix it … or if I can fix it. This isn’t a situation that will go neatly back into a box.
It takes a moment to find the light switch, but once I do, I find the kitchen is neat and tidy. Luckily, it’s well organized, too. The first cupboard I choose has glasses.
I toss some ice into the glass and fill it with water before chugging the whole damn thing. My body is so hot that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to cool it down. It’ll be impossible until I’m far away from Carys.
Minutes pass and she doesn’t follow me. I wait a while, giving us space to get ourselves together. To think logically. To not be impulsive.
By the time I return to Carys, she’s curled up on the couch and asleep.
I cover her with a blanket from the back of a chair in the corner. She’s so beautiful, so peaceful—probably because she isn’t talking.
The thought makes me grin.
I glance around the room, trying to decide what to do. Do I just leave her here? What if she wakes up sick? What if someone breaks in, and she’s too out of it to protect herself?
I don’t even know how to lock up behind me.
Why am I even in this situation?
Because I’m a motherfucking fool. That’s why.
My exhale is harsh as I sit on the loveseat by the fireplace. I grab a book off the coffee table and get comfortable.
It’s going to be a long damn night.
“No one will know. I just need to feel you inside me.”
Who am I kidding?
It’s going to be a long damn life.