Chapter 16
There’s a knock on my door around midnight.
I already know who it is.
I shouldn’t open it. I really shouldn’t.
But I do.
Will stands there, his Stetson in his hands like he’s a schoolboy coming to apologize for something he can’t take back. His eyes find mine, shadowed and unsure.
“Can I come in?” he asks quietly.
I step aside.
He walks in slowly, looking around like it’s unfamiliar territory even though he’s been here before.
“Looks good in here,” he says.
“Thanks,” I reply, voice too tight.
He turns to face me, and something in his eyes cracks the dam I’ve been trying to hold together since I walked away from that damn truck.
I don’t think.
I just move.
I throw myself into his arms, pulling his head down, my mouth crashing into his like maybe I can force the truth out of him with the desperation in my kiss. His arms wrap around me instantly, strong and steady, pulling me close like he’s been aching to.
He kisses me back like a man trying to make up for every second he stayed silent.
When we finally pull apart, breathless and shaking, I whisper, “It hurt. Seeing you next to her. To hear my own brother believe she’s the one softening you.”
Will’s brow furrows, his hands still cupping my face. “I know, sugar. I know.”
I shake my head, trying to keep the tears down, but they rise anyway. “I felt something in your bed, Will. Something real. And now all I feel is stupid.”
He flinches, but I keep going.
“Stupid for hoping. Stupid for falling. Stupid for letting you see every piece of me and thinking maybe you’d want to keep it.”
My voice cracks, and I hate it. Hate how exposed I am in front of the one person who could destroy me just by walking away again.
But Will doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go.
He rests his forehead against mine, his voice breaking as he says, “You’re not stupid, Phern. You’re brave as hell.”
His thumbs brush my cheeks, catching tears I didn’t want to shed.
“I was the stupid one,” he says softly. “For not grabbing on the second I realized you were everything I was too damn scared to want out loud.”
I start to pull away, needing space, air. Anything to keep from breaking open even more. But Will grabs my wrist, pulling me back to him.
“Don’t walk away from me,” he growls.
“Then don’t give me reasons to,” I snap, voice trembling. “You can’t show up in the middle of the night like you suddenly give a damn and expect everything to be okay.”
“I do give a damn,” he fires back. “I’ve always given a damn, Phern.”
“Then act like it! Stop standing there and telling me things when you should’ve—”
He cuts me off the only way he knows how.
His mouth crashes into mine. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s furious, unfiltered, and scorching. I kiss him back just as hard. Teeth. Tongues. Hands pulling, gripping, trying to get closer like we’re still trying to win the argument even as we tear each other apart.
He backs me toward the couch, breathing heavy between kisses, and I grab the collar of his shirt, yanking him down with me as I fall into the cushions.
He lands half on top of me, his hands already sliding under my shirt, rough and desperate.
“I hate how good you taste when I’m mad at you,” I hiss against his mouth.
He bites my bottom lip in response, then kisses it like an apology. “Good. Hate me all you want. But don’t you dare pretend you don’t want this.”
“I don’t want this,” I lie, dragging my nails down his back. “I want to scream at you.”
“Then scream,” he says, breath hot against my neck, “but keep kissing me while you do it.”
I tug his shirt up and off, and he yanks mine over my head like we’re daring each other to keep going. Like undressing is just another battle we’re dead-set on winning.
I straddle him, thighs on either side of his lap, and he grips my hips tight, grinding me against him. The friction sparks a moan from deep in my throat, and his mouth captures it before it can escape.
Everything is fire. Everything is tension. Everything is raw, messy, and undeniable.
His hand slips between us, cupping me over my underwear, and I gasp into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders.
“I should throw you out,” I pant.
“You should,” he growls, kissing down my neck. “But you won’t.”
And he’s right. God help me, he’s right.
I’m breathless, straddling Will on the couch, his hands gripping my hips like he’s never letting go. Our shirts are somewhere on the floor, and his mouth is on my neck, open and hot, like he’s trying to claim every inch of skin he missed the first time around.
Then— Buzz buzz. Buzz buzz.
My phone vibrates on the coffee table.
His lips still against my skin, his chest rising hard and fast beneath me.
I glance over, heart hammering.
Nash Kimzey.
Will sees it too. His jaw tightens. His hands flex on my waist.
Buzz buzz.
He looks up at me, eyes dark.
“Go on,” he says, voice low and edged. “Answer it.”
My stomach twists. “Will—”
He leans in, mouth brushing my ear. “Let’s see how good you can be for Daddy.”
I swallow hard, reaching for the phone with fingers that won’t stop shaking.
Answer or decline.
Will’s eyes stay locked on mine, watching. Waiting. Daring me.
My finger hovers… then I swipe to answer.
“Hey,” I say, voice breathless, too soft.
Too guilty.
Will’s eyes don’t leave mine. Not even as his hands slide slowly up my thighs, back under the hem of my shorts. My breath catches, but I try to sound steady.
“Hey,” Nash’s voice comes through the speaker, warm and easy. “Sorry if I woke you. Finally had some time to myself.”
“No, I—” My words falter as Will’s fingers slip higher, brushing over the damp cotton between my legs. I suck in a breath, biting my lip hard.
“No,” I manage again, voice barely steady. “You didn’t wake me.”
Will’s mouth curves into a wicked smile as he drags his fingers in slow, lazy circles. Teasing. Torturing. Testing me.
“You okay?” Nash asks. “You sound kinda out of breath.”
I close my eyes, willing my voice not to shake. “I’m fine,” I lie. “Just cleaning.”
Will’s mouth finds the hollow of my throat. He kisses and bites gently, and his fingers slide my panties to the side.
“How was Love Lost?” Nash asks.
Will pauses for a second. Just long enough for my answer to catch in my throat.
“It was—” I start, but the words melt into a sharp gasp as Will slides one finger inside me, slow and deep.
“Sorry?” Nash says, confusion lacing his voice.
My fingers tighten around the phone, the other hand buried in Will’s hair. “It was good. So good,” I whisper, eyes locked with Will’s as he moves inside me, his pace deliciously cruel. “Wish you could have been there.”
Will curls his finger and I nearly drop the phone.
“You sure everything’s okay?” Nash asks.
Will leans up, lips brushing my jaw as he whispers, “Tell him you’re just thinking about last night.”
I let out a strangled sound, something between a whimper and a laugh, and press the phone tighter to my ear.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Just a long day. I had a late night last night.”
Will’s smile turns dark, possessive.
Mine, it says without a word.
“Okay,” Nash says, still hesitant. “I just wanted to check in. Thought maybe we could talk more tomorrow?”
I nod, then remember he can’t see me. “Yeah,” I whisper. “Tomorrow’s good.”
Will’s thumb finds my clit and presses, and my body jolts. I gasp and have to swallow a moan.
“Phern?” Nash says.
“Sorry! Dropped something.”
Will’s mouth is at my ear again, breath hot and low. “Tell him goodnight.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Goodnight, Nash.”
“Night,” he says. “Sleep well.”
The second I hang up, Will pulls the phone from my hand and tosses it to the floor.
“You’re a goddamn menace,” I gasp.
He slips his fingers out of me and brings them to his lips, tasting me with a grin that sends a fresh wave of heat through my entire body.
“No,” he growls, pulling me down onto him. “I’m just getting started.”
He just grips my hips and pulls me flush against him, grinding up into me through the thin layers still separating us.
The pressure hits hard. His jeans, my panties, the heat of us pressed so tight there’s nowhere to hide. I gasp, clinging to his shoulders, my body already moving on instinct, chasing friction like it’s oxygen.
He groans into my neck, voice rough and low. “You feel that, sugar?”
I nod, helpless.
“Good. You’re gonna ride Daddy just like this.”
I move, rocking my hips, slow at first. Testing. His hands grip me tighter, guiding me into a rhythm that feels reckless and perfect and just on the edge of too much.
My thighs start to shake. His mouth finds my collarbone, biting gently, then soothing it with his tongue.
“No one else gets this,” he murmurs. “No one else gets you like this.”
My fingers knot in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan again. “Then don’t let me go.”
“Not planning on it,” he growls.
The pace picks up—frantic, messy, needy. I grind harder, feeling the drag of his zipper against my core, the way he bucks up beneath me like he can’t take it anymore.
“Fuck, Phern,” he pants. “Keep going. Just like that. I want you to fall apart for me like this.”
I moan, loud and broken, and he swallows it with his mouth, kissing me hard and hungry as we chase it together.
I’m close—too close—and so is he. His hands tighten, his body jerking beneath mine, every muscle drawn tight with restraint.
We come undone like that.
Pressed together.
Breathless.
Clothes on.
He holds me while I shudder through it, his mouth at my ear, whispering things I’m too dizzy to hold onto.
And when it’s over, when we’re both trembling, tangled on that damn couch, neither of us speaks. Because there’s nothing left to say that wouldn’t sound like begging.
The air is thick with sweat and silence.
Our breaths are still ragged, bodies tangled, clothes half-on and completely useless. Will’s hands rest on my hips, not pulling me closer anymore, just holding me there like he’s afraid to let go. Like if he moves, it all disappears.
But the quiet stretches too long. And reality? It doesn’t knock. It kicks the door in.
I shift slightly, trying to catch my breath. My legs are still trembling. My lips still feel swollen from his kiss.
The question leaves my lips before I can stop it.
“What was that?”
“What do you mean?”
My spine stiffens. “I mean the part where I answered a phone call with your fingers inside me, and the part where you came in your jeans.”
His jaw clenches. “You were there. You know exactly that it was.”
I sit back, just enough to put space between us. “It kind of felt like everything and nothing.”
He exhales, scrubbing a hand over his face, then mutters, “I didn’t come here to confuse you.”
“Too late.”
I stand, suddenly too aware of every inch of bare skin and the soaking wet spot on my shorts. He follows me with his eyes, still seated, but the shift in him is obvious. Shoulders squared, guarded again.
“You keep showing up like you want me, and then standing there like you don’t know what to do with me.”
“I do want you,” he says, voice tight. “But that doesn’t mean this is simple.”
I laugh. “God, you sound like every man who’s ever wanted the benefits without the commitment.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” I cross my arms. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels pretty damn familiar. You want the fire, but you flinch at the burn.”
He stands slowly, eyes locked on mine. “You think this doesn’t burn me?”
“I think you’re too scared to admit it does.”
The silence between us turns brittle.
And then, softer now, I say, “I’m not asking you to fix this. I’m just asking you to stop breaking me in the process.”
Will doesn’t answer.
And that says everything.
“I think we should end this before someone gets hurt.” The lie slips out smoother than I expect.
“Phern—”
“It’s better this way, Will.” My voice stays calm, but my hands betray me, shaking slightly as I gesture toward the door. “You should go.”
He just stands there for a beat, like he thinks silence might change my mind. But it doesn’t. It just makes the ache sharper.
Finally, he exhales, jaw tight, nodding once like it costs him something.
“For the record,” he says quietly, “this isn’t what I want.”
I nod, tears burning behind my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. “Wanting isn’t the problem, Will. It’s the follow-through.”
He flinches like I hit him. Good. Maybe he’ll remember that next time he gets halfway close to choosing something real.
I don’t say another word.
And eventually, he leaves.
The door closes behind him with a soft click, but it echoes like a gunshot in my chest.
And just like that, I’m alone.
With a couch that still smells like him.
Panties that are ruined.
And a heart that’s still stupid enough to hope he turns back around.