Chapter 12 #2
I rolled my eyes. The two of them were ridiculous. And kind of adorable.
Teeny took the treat gently from his fingers, her tongue barely brushing his skin.
Delaney exhaled a shaky breath. “Huh. That wasn’t so bad.”
“See?” I said. “Progress.” I could hear the pride in my own voice and wondered when I’d started caring so much about Delaney conquering his fears.
“Speaking of progress,” he said, wiping his hand on a napkin before picking up his burger, “how’s the kitchen coming? I know we turned your workspace into Grand Central Station.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” I took a fry from my own container. “Things are coming along. I got most of the base cabinet frames built, and Hen said I can return the red cabinets Monday, which will give me more space to move around in there.” I wiped my mouth on a napkin. “What about you? Any progress on your article?”
“Nope.” Delaney grimaced. “I took a side quest and looked into our Jam Cupboard Mystery instead.” He licked a bit of sauce from the corner of his lips. “I googled E. Winters yesterday and found an artist with the same name.” He unlocked his phone and began typing. “A pretty prolific mid-century painter who had a couple showings at the Met. I’m not sure if it’s our E. Winters, though. Does this look similar-ish to the paintings we found?”
He turned his phone and scrolled up and down, displaying some paintings of urban scenes. A taxicab in the rain with faceless pedestrians hurrying by. A park with the Empire State Building in the distance.
I squinted at the images for a minute, then shook my head. “I can’t say. Those are pretty, but they don’t reach out and grab me like the ones we found. Maybe because the subjects are so different?”
“Maybe, yeah.” He frowned at his phone, then turned it off and set it down. “We’ll have to wait for the appraiser to come by next week to know for sure. And I’m meeting with Samuel Purchase tomorrow.”
“I bet he’ll know something,” I said. “I think he grew up in Copper County. Have you done a record search on the previous owners of the house? I’m more curious how the paintings got there than who painted them.”
“I haven’t pulled any records yet, but I will. Janice did say the house was vacant for a while before the owners put it on the market last fall, though, so who knows how long the paintings were there.”
I took a quick sip of soda. “That tracks. It was vacant when I came to town. I do know it’s a 1932 Arts and Crafts bungalow designed by Everett H. Lowell, but I don’t think that helps answer these questions.”
Delaney laughed. “No… but it actually brings up several more.” When his eyes sparkled behind his glasses, it was really fucking hard to look away. “Not just a theater nerd but an architecture nerd, huh, Brewer Barnum?”
“No.” I shifted uncomfortably on my chair. “I mean, not architecture in general. I do love Craftsman-style houses, though.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?” Delaney munched a french fry, but the look in his eyes left no doubt that he was focused on my answer. That he genuinely wanted to know.
And to my own surprise, I found myself answering, explaining the various houses I’d worked on with my grandfather growing up and how something about the intentionality of the Craftsman style spoke to me.
When I mentioned that the use of local stone in his fireplace designs was one of Everett Lowell’s hallmarks, Delaney’s eyes widened. He’d written a piece on sustainable building materials, he said, and he jumped in to explain how similar techniques were being revived in modern eco-architecture.
He wasn’t just humoring me; he was genuinely engaged, making me draw connections I’d never considered, which, in turn, made me want to share even more.
Before I knew it, Teeny yawned dramatically, drawing both our attention, and when I glanced at the clock on Delaney’s bookcase, I saw that hours had passed.
“Well,” I said with true regret. I’d probably spoken more words tonight than I had all week, and I still could have talked to Delaney for another few hours and not felt the time. “I guess we should go to bed.”
The word bed hung in the air, charged with meaning.
“I meant me and Teeny,” I added quickly. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Delaney echoed.
We cleaned up his office, then walked down the hallway together, stopping at the foot of the stairs, where we’d go our separate ways.
“Thanks,” I blurted. “For the dinner and the conversation. I figured you’d be tapped out after so many visiting Coppertians.”
“Nah. This was the best part of my day.” Delaney flushed, as if realizing he’d said too much. “Because of Teeny, I mean. Conquering my fears and all.” He bent down to give the dog’s head a cautious pat, and Teeny panted happily.
Jealous of my damned dog.
“Well.” I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly feeling awkward. “Good night, then, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Delaney replied. “Good night.”
Neither of us moved.
The air between us crackled with tension. His eyes dropped to my chest for a split second, then back up. I swallowed hard, remembering how his fingers had caressed the very spot he’d just been looking at.
How his lips had felt under mine.
How his body had responded to my touch.
With significant effort, I took a step back. “Come on, Teeny,” I called, my voice embarrassingly hoarse.
As Delaney watched us go, I’d swear there was disappointment in his eyes.
In the attic, I stripped off my jeans and stretched out on my air mattress while Teeny settled onto her bed and immediately began snoring. But tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep.
I’d made the right call, leaving Delaney tonight. I knew I had. I needed to focus on work, to finish the renovation, and then to move on. It was a solid plan.
Unfortunately, my body disagreed vehemently, still thrumming with want from that charged moment in the hallway—hell, from every fucking moment we’d spent together in the past few months.
Acting on that want the other night had only made the wanting worse… which was why I would not be doing that again.
I flopped to my back, propping one hand behind my head, and stared at the shadowy beams in the ceiling. From the other side of the wall, I heard water running through the pipes as Delaney got ready for bed, and then silence.
I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come, but just as I started to drift off, a faint noise jerked me back to wakefulness.
A moan. Soft but unmistakable.
I froze, straining to hear. Was Delaney having a nightmare? Should I check on him?
Another moan, slightly louder. Followed by the rhythmic creak of his bed.
Oh.
Oh, fuck .
Heat rushed through my body. Delaney wasn’t having a nightmare. He was… I swallowed so hard it echoed through the quiet attic.
Next door, the sounds continued, growing more distinct. The cadence of creaking quickened, punctuated by small, helpless noises that went straight to my groin. Without conscious thought, my own hand drifted down, pushing aside the waistband of my underwear and wrapping around my rapidly filling cock.
Maybe Delaney had the right idea. Being around him all day had me in a constant state of pent-up arousal, and I hadn’t jacked off since the day of the storm, when I’d taken care of my morning wood while imagining Delaney on the other side of the wall?—
I sat bolt upright, mind racing.
Holy shit, had he heard me ?
I hadn’t realized how thin the walls were until this moment, and while I couldn’t remember how loud I’d been that morning, I knew I hadn’t been silent. So if Delaney had heard me, and he was making this much noise now…
He wanted me to hear him.
He was fucking provoking me.
As I sat there stunned, another low moan came through the wall, this one louder and more desperate. “ Brewer ! Fuck. Yesssss. ”
My body responded instantly, blood rushing south so fast I felt light-headed. I could picture him perfectly—head thrown back against the pillows, one hand working beneath the sheets, the other perhaps pinching a nipple or splayed across his stomach. That visual, paired with his voice calling my name, sent a jolt of pure lust through me that was almost painful in its intensity.
I was out of bed and down the attic stairs before I could think better of it, moving on instinct and raw need. I moved through the house and up the inside stairs like a lightning strike. Then I paused outside his door, my hands braced on the cool wood of the jamb, giving myself one last chance to turn back.
The sounds continued, growing more urgent. My cock pulsed in my underwear, straining against the fabric as I listened to Delaney’s quickening breaths, the occasional creak of the bed springs, the unmistakable slick sounds of his hand working himself faster.
A guttural moan filtered through the door. “God, Brewer, please…”
Those words, the plea in his voice, shattered the last of my restraint.
I knocked once, then opened the door without waiting for a response.
The room was dimly lit by a bedside lamp, casting everything in a warm golden glow. Delaney lay on his back naked, one hand working beneath the sheet. He stilled when he saw me. Glasses off, his blue eyes were wide and unfocused, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Need help with that?” I asked, my voice low and rough.
For a heartbeat, he just stared at me. Then, slowly, he nodded.
I crossed the room in three strides, yanking my shirt over my head as I went. The sheets were cool against my heated skin as I climbed up and straddled him.
Delaney jackknifed up and reached for me immediately, greedy hands skimming over my chest, my shoulders, my back. “Oh, fuck yes.”
My own hands were just as greedy, tracing up his arms and over his collarbone, then up to cup his face.
“You knew I could hear you,” I murmured.
His eyes met mine. “Yes.” No apology, no embarrassment—just uncompromising Delaney honesty.
“You were trying to get me in here? Despite all the complications?”
“No risk,” he said, quoting my earlier words, “no reward.” Then his fingers tangled in my hair as he pulled my mouth to his.
The kiss was hot and demanding. Pure hunger. I nipped at his lower lip, then soothed the sting with my tongue. He made a desperate sound in the back of his throat and arched against me, pushing his dick against mine with only the smooth sheet between us. I spread my legs, bracketing his thighs with mine, and groaned at how fucking good it felt.
Delaney’s fingers slid into my underwear and then down, pulling me closer. “I want to feel you,” he whispered, pushing at the waistband. “All of you.”
I stood and quickly shed my underwear, then pulled back the sheet covering him. Then I paused for a moment to drink him in—the lean lines of his body, the flush spreading across his chest, the way his lips were already swollen from our kisses. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “Not like you.”
Not like me, I wanted to tell him, but like himself , which was infinitely better. But when I lowered myself down so we were pressed together, chest-to chest and dick-to-dick, I found I couldn’t speak. My breath caught, and a broken moan escaped me.
Delaney’s hands found my ass, urging me to put more of my weight on him, and I was helpless to resist. I rocked against him experimentally, the friction sending sparks of pleasure up my spine.
His legs twined around mine. “More,” he begged.
I complied, setting a rhythm that had us both panting. He lifted one leg to wrap around my waist, changing the angle and increasing the pressure in a way that made my vision blur.
“Fuck, Brewer,” he gasped, his hips rising to meet each thrust. “Just like that.”
I buried my face in the curve of his neck, breathing in the scent of him—clean skin with the faint, floral smell of his soap. His hands roamed my back, my shoulders, my arms, like he couldn’t get enough of touching me.
The pace quickened, our bodies sliding together with increasing urgency. I felt the familiar tightening at the base of my spine, the gathering heat that signaled I was close.
“I’m not going to last,” I warned, my voice strained.
“Me neither,” Delaney admitted, his breath hot against my ear. “Don’t stop.”
As if I could. As if anything in the world could make me stop when he was underneath me like this, moving with me, saying my name like a prayer.
His soft hand slid between our bodies, wrapping around both of us. The added sensation was almost too much. I cursed, my hips stuttering as I fought to maintain the rhythm.
“Come with me,” he urged, his grip tightening.
It was his voice that pushed me over the edge—that command all wrapped up in a plea. I came with a shudder that racked my entire body, Delaney following moments later, his release spilling hot against his hand and our bellies.
For a long moment, we lay there, tangled together and breathing hard. I shifted to the side slightly, not wanting to crush him with my weight, then rolled toward the edge of the bed. He made a small sound of protest, his arms tightening around me as if to keep me close.
“Don’t go,” he murmured, his voice already sleepy.
“Just getting a towel,” I assured him. I cleaned up in his bathroom and brought back a damp cloth for him, too.
“You can stay,” he said hesitantly. “If you want.”
After a moment—more like a millisecond—of deliberation, I climbed back on the bed and pulled Delaney against me, resting my head on his pillow and draping my arm over his waist. I was pretty sure I wasn’t imagining the way Delaney’s whole body relaxed when I did.
We lay in silence for a minute while Delaney traced lazy patterns over my chest, his touch light but deliberate. “Should I apologize?” he asked softly.
I knew what he meant, but I couldn’t help snorting. “For being so fucking sexy I literally ran through the house to get to you?” I pretended to think about it. “Actually, maybe you should. There were a lot of stairs.”
He laughed, the sound light and happy as he cuddled against my chest. “Next time I want you, I’ll just use a sledgehammer and save you the trip,” he said, motioning toward the wall.
Next time .
I waited for the urge to pull back and put distance between us to grip me… but the feeling never came. Instead, a kind of contentment spread over me and settled. The die had been cast, the decision made. However long this physical connection between us lasted, however messy it would be when it ended, I was in it now.
And with Delaney in my arms, it was impossible to regret it.
As we lapsed into comfortable silence, his fingers continued their idle exploration of my skin, and I found myself relaxing into his touch, taking a true deep breath for the first time in days.
I cleared my throat. “I think I might owe you an apology,” I said. “I pulled away the last couple days. Which is kind of my go-to, if you listen to Hayes.”
“I get why you did.” Delaney lifted his head. “You care about your professional reputation. Nobody understands that more than I do…” He rolled his eyes. “Even if I happen to be doing a shit job of focusing on my own career this week.” His gaze softened. “The complications are real. I just… wanted you too much to stay away.”
The honesty and vulnerability in his voice made my chest tight, so I leaned up to kiss him, hard and messy, pulling his lower lip between my teeth.
“Same,” I admitted a few breathless moments later. “I want you, Delaney. That was never in question.”
Delaney settled himself against me with a sigh. “Maybe we should?—”
“Tell me about the article you’re supposed to be writing,” I blurted, changing the subject before I could say anything more revealing. “No breakthroughs, you said? No mustache-twirling bad guys revealing themselves?”
“Shockingly, no.” His nose wrinkled adorably. “I can’t remember how much I told you, but the goal of the article is to expose this really shitty housing developer, Empire Ridge. I have evidence that shows they’ve done a bunch of shady stuff, but what I really want is to prove—” He frowned up at me. “Hey, you okay? You just got all tense.”
“Did I? Sorry,” I said, forcing myself to relax. “I recognized the name. Empire Ridge.”
“Oh my God.” Delaney threw a leg over me and twisted up to prop his chin on my chest. “I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I didn’t ask my renovation specialist if he knew the fucking huge construction company that’s headquartered, like, two hours from here!” He rolled his eyes. “Have you worked with them? Or do you know anyone who has, who’d want to go on the record for my article?”
I took a deep breath… then hesitated. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Delaney the whole truth right then—that Empire Ridge had bought my grandfather’s house and destroyed it, just as surely as my father had destroyed my grandfather’s company, that I hated everything they stood for—but I couldn’t.
Here in Delaney’s bed, in his arms, I was happy . Delaney was, too, I thought. Dredging up ghosts of the past wasn’t how I wanted to spend this night.
“I’ve never worked with them,” I answered honestly. “I’ve heard of people who have and regretted it.”
Delaney nodded and settled himself against me again. “Truth,” he said. “They’re sharks who’ve fucked over a lot of people.”
“Which is why,” I couldn’t resist adding, “only unscrupulous people get involved with them in the first place.”
“Or desperate people. Either way…” Delaney yawned hugely. “This story’s going nowhere, which means I’m not leaving for Costa Rica anytime soon.”
Costa Rica . Right. Fuck .
I tightened my arm around him, suddenly afraid of how easily I could get used to this—to having him beside me, in bed and in life.
I wanted to build things that lasted. That was who I was at my core. And Delaney…
Delaney was a hurricane, just as I’d told him. He’d moved to Copper County on impulse, he’d blown things into chaos, and soon he’d move on, first to Costa Rica and then to wherever his next story led. Hurricanes didn’t stick around long.
“You okay?” Delaney asked again, his voice thick and drowsy.
“Yeah,” I lied. “Fine. Just tired.”
He hummed in acknowledgment, his breathing already evening out as sleep claimed him, but I lay awake a while longer, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my chest.
I knew whatever Delaney and I had was temporary. It couldn’t be serious, and it would be foolish to let myself believe it could. But as Delaney shifted in his sleep, his body instinctively seeking mine, I wondered if I had any choice in the matter.
Because the truth was, it wasn’t just physical like I’d tried so hard to convince myself.
I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt as content, as calm, and as purely myself as I did curled up against this man who was my opposite in every way but had somehow burrowed past all my defenses.
My last thought before sleep claimed me was that I was going to enjoy this ride for as long as it lasted, even knowing the tracks might run out long before I was ready.
After all, hurricanes were known for leaving devastation behind.