Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
DELANEY
Brewer’s solid chest pressed against my back as he guided my hands on the sledgehammer, and his hips aligned with mine in a way that was highly, highly distracting.
“There’s no trick to this,” he murmured, and though his deep voice was soothing, his warm breath against my neck was the opposite. “There’s no trick to it. Just lift the hammer and smack the fuck out of the cabinets, yeah?”
“Yeah. Yes. I can do that.” My voice came out breathless and tipsy, a little from the wine and mostly from Brewer.
“I know you can.” He gave me a gentle push forward, breaking our connection.
The sledgehammer was lighter than I expected as I lifted it, and I felt a grin spread across my face. I channeled all my frustration through my arms and into the steel head… and whacked the first shiny, red cabinet door. The impact sent a satisfying jolt up my arms as the door crumpled, hinges tearing loose from the cabinet frame.
It was messy and gratuitously destructive…
And I let out a whoop of triumph that echoed through the darkened kitchen.
“Hell yeah!” Brewer encouraged from behind me, his voice warm with amusement. “Hit it again. Hit it like it insulted your journalism degree! Hit it like it just told you that Hen’s achy elbow predicted a hurricane!”
Laughing giddily, I repositioned my hands on the wooden handle and squared my feet, which were just a little unsteady.
I wasn’t drunk, exactly. Not drunk enough to make any truly terrible decisions, anyway… At least, none worse than the ones I’d already made tonight, like kissing my contractor senseless or confessing my deepest insecurities to his dog .
I swung again, catching the upper corner of the same cabinet, and this time, the entire unit ripped away from the wall, taking a small square of plaster with it. It crashed to the drop cloth with a magnificent clatter that had me grinning like a maniac.
“God, that feels good,” I panted, surprised by how much I meant it. My heart hammered in my chest, exhilaration coursing through me. “I’m gonna keep going!”
I darted a look over my shoulder to gauge Brewer’s reaction, but he just nodded, his arms folded over his chest and his too-handsome face wearing that tip-tilted smile that made my stomach whirl. So I took aim at the next cabinet, swinging harder as memories of Brewer’s beer-flavored kiss fueled my mini-demolition spree.
Smash . The cabinet door folded, its hinges surrendering with a satisfying shriek. Crack . Another swing, another section of red metal folding like tissue paper.
With each impact, I felt a rush of something wild and unfamiliar—a reckless kind of freedom I hardly ever allowed myself. Brewer’s presence behind me made it worse… or maybe better, depending on how you looked at it. I was still standing on a precipice, about to tip into the unknown, but knowing he was right there made the edge less terrifying.
I took another swing, and another, watching as metal bent and wood splintered. My arms burned with the effort, but I couldn’t stop myself. And with each impact, I mentally cataloged the mistakes the stupid, shiny cabinet represented.
The relationships where I’d been too much or too little. Every time I’d been too stubborn to admit I was wrong. The way I’d waltzed into Copper County, thinking I could just plant myself and grow. Even this new, annoying uncertainty that I didn’t know who I was or what the right next step was.
Every whack was liberating as fuck. Enough to make me wish I could deal with all my problems that way.
But with all that heady, happy freedom pulsing through me, I may have forgotten a few crucial things.
Like that my hands were sweaty from all the exertion and that a sledgehammer—no matter how light it might feel with adrenaline coursing through my system—was, by its very nature, really fucking heavy.
Like that Newton’s Law of Physics was a law for a reason.
Like that the universe tended toward entropy and destruction.
Worst of all, I forgot that I could not, under any circumstances, be trusted around tools or even those who used them.
I swung once more, bracing myself from a distance since I knew the cabinet would fall… but this time, instead of connecting with the cabinet, the whole fucking sledgehammer flew out of my grasp. It sailed through the open air and hit the exact spot where the first cabinet had been with a sickening crunch. Then it just… lodged there.
“Oh,” I managed, blowing out a breath. “Shit. For a second there, I thought I?—”
The wall trembled—literally trembled, like an ancient god had awakened—and a rain of plaster dust crumbled to the floor, leaving behind an opening at least a foot tall and more than a foot wide. The sledgehammer tipped and fell to the ground somewhere inside the hole with a metallic clunk .
“—destroyed the wall,” I finished in a whisper. “Fuck.”
This pattern was becoming very familiar in recent months. I tried moving an outlet and flooded my living room. I started writing the story Marjorie said would be my best yet and sputtered out halfway through. I went to express my outrage to my contractor and burned his freaking camper down. I ordered a vanity I loved and somehow neglected to calculate the depth of the thing. I enjoyed a moment of freedom and… this .
How could one person be wrong so often?
Behind me, Brewer burst into laughter. He gripped my arms and shook me lightly. “Holy shit! Shit . I mean, I figured you were pretty strong, but that was… beyond.”
I ripped off my goggles and whirled to face him, dislodging his hands and nearly sliding on the plaster dust in my socks. “Brewer! Did you not see the part where I broke the wall ?”
“Uh, yeah.” The work light and the wine made his blue eyes shine like summer lake water. “Kinda hard to miss. But we knew there’d be some damage. Sledgehammers, not known for their precision, right? So, tomorrow morning, I might grumble ’cause it’ll be a pain to repair the wall. But it can be repaired, like most things can.” Brewer’s eyes got those crinkles at the corners. “And for tonight … well. That was cathartic, right? And it was fucking hot.”
I stared at him. I was breathing hard, and not just from all the whacking.
I mean, I figured you were pretty strong…
That was… beyond…
And it was fucking hot …
“Brewer.” My voice cracked slightly, and Brewer’s smile slid into concern.
“Whoa. Are you okay?”
I looked at him, at the dust in his hair and the warmth in his eyes, and felt something inside me shift irrevocably.
“No,” I said, reaching for his shirt.
I pulled Brewer against me with the kind of desperate strength that lets mothers lift cars. He made a surprised sound that transformed into a groan as our mouths crashed together.
That first touch unleashed a torrent of heat that melted through me like wildfire, turning every one of my bones to liquid. His mouth opened against mine, hot and eager, and the taste of him was more intoxicating than anything I’d drunk all night. I sucked his bottom lip between my teeth and was rewarded with a shaky exhale that ghosted across my cheek.
I twisted my fingers into his hair, needing more and harder , but his hands caught my hips, fingers digging into my flesh.
“Delaney,” he growled. The word vibrated through my chest.
“Please, Brewer?” I said. For once, I had no idea what I was asking for. No opinions. No thoughts. No demands. No need to be in control. No need for anything but him.
“Living room,” he gasped after a piece of plaster crumbled to the floor behind me.
I pushed against his chest with my free hand, walking him backward through the kitchen doorway, our bodies glued together. The cool plaster dust on my hand left ghostly prints on his shirt, marking him as mine, if only for tonight.
“Delaney,” Brewer said again. His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded. “Are you sure?—”
I silenced him with another kiss, deeper this time, my tongue sliding against his. My hand still gripped his hair like a lifeline.
We stumbled into the living room, nearly tripping over the pillows I’d laid on the floor earlier. From her spot near the hearth, Teeny lifted her head, then huffed and curled back into a ball, apparently unimpressed by our display.
I pushed Brewer down onto the couch, the momentum carrying me forward until I straddled his lap, my knees bracketing his thighs. His calloused hands slid beneath my—his—sweatshirt, leaving trails of fire everywhere he touched.
“God, you feel—” he murmured against my neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against my skin. “I’ve wanted this.”
The confession hit me like another kind of sledgehammer.
“You…” I gasped as he sucked on my collarbone. “You thought about this? With… me?”
My stomach was tight with need, and my heart thundered with nerves. Was this just the heat of the moment, or was it possible Brewer had actually been attracted to me?
“You fucking kidding?” he huffed without taking his mouth off my skin. “Can’t fucking function around here. All those legs and those fucking glasses always slipping down your nose.”
Brewer’s hands moved down to my hips, fingers digging in as he pulled me down against his hard length. As soon as our cocks touched, I couldn’t help but grind down into him. “W-what did you w-want?” I asked, desperate to find out what he’d meant by “wanting this” but also desperate to feel his hands and mouth on me.
My brain felt like it was both electric static sparking all over the place and gooey sludge locking up every available oxygen molecule and brain cell. But I needed to know what the hell he’d meant. Because there was no way my sexy contractor had actually meant he?—
“Wanted you naked under me,” he breathed hot against my skin. “Wanted to see your cheeks turn all splotchy and your eyes roll up. Wanted to know what it would take to make you shut up, stop thinking, and just fucking feel .”
“Uh,” I said stupidly as he continued to torment me with his roaming mouth and hands. “Well… Oh .”
His hands moved down over my silk-clad ass and squeezed. “Wanted to feel this ass,” he murmured as his nose pressed up under my chin. He took his time sucking the skin there before pulling back and meeting my eyes. His were dark with need, and his nose was slightly red from my stubble. “Wanted to make you come, Delaney.”
I lurched down to kiss him on the mouth again, grinding our cocks while sneaking a hand between us to feel the length of him through the denim of his jeans. “Fuck,” I whimpered before pressing my lips together to keep from begging him to fuck me. Was that rude? To ask your contractor to fuck you after one or two maybe-alcohol-induced kisses? It seemed like it was.
But then I remembered he’d offered to make me come. That had actually happened. “Yes,” I said quickly. “Yes, please.”
The edges of his lips turned up. “You gonna let me take care of you?”
His wording took me aback. Take care of me? I did not need a man to take care of me. I didn’t need taking care of, period. I needed an orgasm.
“Pants off,” I said, asserting a little control. I tried climbing off him but tipped over and fell forward between Brewer and the sofa cushions instead, letting out a little oof .
His smile faded. “Y’okay?”
“ Pfft . Pants off. I’m… supervising. From here.”
Brewer stood up like he was no longer as drunk as other people in the room and started to make a big production of taking off his jeans. The knowing quirk of his brow might have annoyed me if I hadn’t been so distracted by his little striptease.
“Faster,” I urged, moving to the edge of the sofa without realizing what I was doing. “Oh, never mind. Here. I’ll do it.” I reached out to shimmy his jeans past his hips, watching with rapt attention as the thick outline of his erection was revealed under the cotton fabric of his underwear.
Brewer’s fingers tangled in my hair. “You look like Teeny when I finish a steak and offer her the bone,” he murmured.
I glanced up at him before settling my eyes back on his package as I stroked it appreciatively. “I will not dignify that with the expected bone joke. Nor will I be compared to a feral beast.”
His fingers moved through my hair more gently. “Thank you for telling me about the dog thing,” he said softly. “I didn’t know.”
I shook my head. Nobody wanted to talk about childhood trauma right now, and I had a pretty good idea of one way to stop the conversation, a way I considered a win-win for all of the people in the room. “I want to suck you off.”
My fingers continued to explore the size and shape of his cock as I leaned in and rubbed the edge of my jaw across its hard length. He smelled so damned good.
Brewer’s thick, muscled ass tightened, pushing his dick against my face as I continued to tease him. His eyes darkened further. “Delaney,” he warned, voice like bourbon over gravel.
Dampness bloomed on the cotton in front of me, the scent of his precum making me dizzy. “Brew,” I breathed, still nearly face-first in his groin. “I want?—”
With one hand still in my hair, he used the other to pull down his boxer briefs, nudging me back a little until his stiff cock fell forward against my cheek. “You want?” he asked, looking unsure, like he was suddenly worried he was crossing a line.
I met his eyes and confessed. “Yes. I want. I’ve wanted you for a while.”