10. Christian
Christian
We’ve been dancing around each other all night, a push and pull that’s driving me out of my fucking mind.
She didn’t need me breathing down her neck while she poured drinks, but that didn’t stop me from finding a hundred bullshit reasons to hover close—just enough to catch the scent of the strawberry shampoo she uses and feel the heat rolling off her body like a goddamn invitation.
The how and why stopped mattering fifty excuses ago.
Now it’s just this pure, aching need.
Minty, our last lingering customer, finally stumbles out into the cold, and the door swings shut behind him. My fingers find the locks, and the sound of each one sliding home feels like a heartbeat.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Now it’s just us, trapped in the amber glow of low bar lights while some heartbroken bastard wails on the jukebox about wanting what he can’t have.
Fitting.
Painfully fucking fitting.
Especially when I’m alone with her like this, and she looks the way she does. And that fucking skirt? Sweet Jesus, it should be illegal. The way it clings to her body and rides up those thighs when she bends to wipe down tables—it’s a test of my patience.
Having her like this, so accessible, so perfectly takeable… it’s all I can think about. The things I want to do to her are dark enough to blacken my soul, and right now, I couldn’t give a single goddamn fuck about redemption.
Piper’s clearing glasses, and I’m watching her move like I have a thousand times before, except tonight there’s something feral clawing at my chest.
Maybe it’s having her under my roof, breathing my air, and leaving traces of herself everywhere I turn.
A sweater draped over the back of a chair, a hairband forgotten on the bathroom sink beside my shaving foam, little pieces of her scattered through my home like she’s already mine.
Or maybe it’s the way she looks at Travis now, like she’s already somewhere else entirely.
He’s too fucking self-absorbed to see that she’s miserable, and that she’s practically slipped through his fingers.
Not that their problems give me permission to act on the thoughts that keep me up at night.
The ones that have me taking cold showers at dawn and praying for forgiveness in the same breath that I’m choking on her name.
But Christ, the longer I carry this weight, the harder it gets to remember why I shouldn’t just take what I want.
Watching her now, all I can think about is claiming her on that pool table, my hand wrapped in her dark hair, showing her what a real man feels like between her thighs.
Making her scream my name until she forgets every cock that came before mine, especially the one who’s spent his whole life spitting on my name.
God help me, but I’m going straight to hell for the things I want to do to her.
“You gonna stand there staring all night, cowboy, or are you gonna make yourself useful?”
Not. Fucking. Helping.
“What do you need?” I ask, trying to shake off the pull she has on me.
“Could you make sure everything’s shut down out back? I’ll finish up out here. ”
Moving through the back of the bar, I turn off lights, lock doors, and make sure my brother won’t have to deal with a half-assed bar closing.
But when I come back in, the sight of Piper nearly brings me to my knees.
She’s perched on the edge of the bar like she was put on this earth to ruin me, one ankle crossed over the other, looking like every fantasy I’ve ever had.
Two shot glasses of clear liquid sit beside her, but all I can focus on is the way those lips curve up into a smile that promises trouble.
“One for the road?” She lifts a shot glass my way. “I think we both need it after the shit show tonight turned into.”
I settle onto the barstool beside where she’s perched, trying like hell to ignore the fact that her thigh is brushing against my shoulder. But I feel it. I feel her. It’s like I’m being fucking torched from the inside out.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
Three words. Just three. But they hit like a gut punch because am I? I don’t even know what that means anymore. Every day is the same as the last; it’s predictable and a routine I don’t mind, but do I want more? Fuck, I don’t even know.
I knock back the shot, letting the burn chase away the truth trying to claw its way up my throat. “I’m as okay as a guy like me can be.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
When she starts to slide off the bar, something primitive and desperate takes over.
My hand shoots out, gripping her thigh, and those green eyes snap to mine.
They’re the kind of eyes that hold entire forests, deep as midnight pines and dark enough to swallow a man whole.
And fuck me, what I wouldn’t give to have her do exactly that.
On her knees, hermouth stretched wide around my cock, spit dripping down her chin as she gazes up at me like she’d never look at anyone else again.
Jesus, I need to get my shit together.
I hold her stare, silently begging her to stay, and when she settles back, I force myself to release her .
“Life is what it is, and I’ve learned to live with the hand I’ve been dealt.”
She nods, something flickering in her gaze before she lets it go, pushing away whatever’s running through her mind.
“What about you? Are you okay? Travis aside, I mean.”
“I’m as okay as a girl like me can be.” She smiles, and I swear to god, her eyes sparkle. “No, I love working here, and living with my sister is fun. We’re really close, but she’s as unfiltered as I am, so we definitely clash at times.”
“Your sister is terrifying.”
“I’m worse.”
“Is that right?”
“So people have said.”
“Hmm.” I drag my gaze over her. “I’m yet to be terrified by you.”
“Weird… because I’m terrified of you,” she whispers.
She starts to slide off the bar again like she’s trying to escape me and run from something she doesn’t know how to face, and something snaps inside me. I’m on my feet before she can blink, blocking her path and cutting off her exit like a predator trapping its prey.
“What are?—”
I cage her against the bar, arms blocking her in, and my body pressing close. My lips brush her ear, just shy of touching her.
“I terrify you?” I ask while dragging my nose slowly up the soft curve of her neck, burying myself in the scent of her skin. She nods, small and shaky, and I breathe her in deeper. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Tell me.”
“I can’t. Don’t you understand that? I can’t tell you. I can’t show you… I can’t want you.” I breathe her in once more before tilting her chin with my thumb and forcing her to meet my eyes. “It doesn’t matter what your situation is. This can’t happen.”
“I know,” she whispers.
“God, you drive me so fucking crazy I can barely breathe sometimes.”My thumb drags down, tugging on her bottom lip.
“What I’d give to be the only man you ever looked at like this,” I rasp, my fingers threading through her hair as I tilt her head back, exposing her neck like a goddamn offering.
“I had so many chances, so many nights I should’ve said fuck it and taken what I wanted, and I blew every single one.
” My grip tightens in her hair as my forehead drops to hers, and I breathe her in like a dying man getting his last taste of heaven. “And now…”
“Now I’m about to be out of a relationship that’s done nothing but make me unhappy,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “And the whole time, I’ve been dying for another man to touch me… But then I think you’ve always known that.”
I press my body against hers hard enough that she can feel every thick inch of what she does to me, but she doesn’t touch me—she just stands there offering herself up, letting me take this moment of tortured closeness that’s going to haunt my dreams until the day I die.
“Come on. We should head back,” I say, and she sags against me, just barely—but I feel it.
I don’t want to let her go. Every part of me is fighting it, but I step back anyway, holding her eyes long enough that she can read every unspoken feeling—every ache, every desire, every piece of my heart—written clear across my face.
I watch her gather the last of her things.
When she’s ready, I follow her out into the night, the cold air settling on us both, her shivering where the chill bites at her skin.
I want to reach for her and pull her into my chest. I want to wrap her up in my arms, and shield her from the cold with my body.
Just for a minute, just long enough to pretend she’s mine to hold.
She slides into the passenger seat, her legs shifting just enough for me to catch a fleeting glimpse of smooth, bare thigh where her skirt has crept up slightly.
Get your shit together.
I shut the door, maybe a little too hard, and force myself to walk around to my side of the truck.
“You can take me back to my sister’s,” she says as I pull out of the bar’s parking lot. “If it’s weird for you to bring me back to the farm while Travis isn’t there, then I’m fine with going back to Violet’s.”
“You uncomfortable being alone with me?”
“Of course not. ”
“Then home is where we’re going.” She doesn’t argue. She just nods and keeps her eyes fixed on the road ahead.
I reach over and turn the heat up, stealing a glance at her from the corner of my eye, needing something, anything, to fill the silence before it swallows me whole.
“The kids up at the farm love you, so I need you up there. I see how they light up when you’re around.”
She turns to look at me then, her cheeks still flushed from the cold, and grins. It’s a little mischievous, a little sweet, and fuck me, that smile alone has me ready to throw the truck in reverse, park us in a damn ditch, and drag her into my lap.
“Snowball fights are just an excuse to smack snotty kids with some cold ice.”
“So, everyone’s happy?”
“Exactly. And it gives the parents a chance to get what they need without the constant whining from kids who don’t really care what tree they get, so long as they can make it look pretty for when Santa comes.”
“And is Santa coming for you this year?”
“Depends on whether I’m on the nice list.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Only good girls get on the nice list, Piper.”
“Guess I’m screwed then.”
We both laugh, but the sound is hollow, nothing more than an empty attempt at pretending the moment isn’t heavy with everything we’re not saying.
When I pull into the driveway, I kill the engine, and I’m out before she can even reach for the handle.
The cold air hits my face as I round the truck, my breath coming out in white puffs, and I open her door for her.
She slides out, and her legs move past me like she’s trying to escape the pull that keeps drawing us together.
She heads for the house, her boots sinking into the frost-covered ground, and I force myself to hang back to keep some space between us.
Inside the house, the silence feels deafening and suffocating all at once. But maybe that's just my thoughts, racing so loud they drown out everything else .
“I’m gonna turn in for the night. You good?” I say, hanging my hat and jacket on the metal hook by the front door.
She glances over at me, and I know that look. The one that says she’s trying to figure me out, trying to read between the lines I’m not even sure I’m writing anymore.
She knows I’m trying to put some distance between us.
“Yeah, I’m pretty tired.”
“See you tomorrow, Piper.”
I turn without another word and head upstairs, shutting my bedroom door behind me.
I lean back against it, listening to the sound of her footsteps fading down the hall, knowing she’s heading for a bed she’ll sleep in alone tonight, while I’m stuck in here, so fucking hard it hurts, and my body wound tight enough to snap.
I don’t even make it to the bed. My belt’s already undone, zipper halfway down, jeans slung low on my hips. I spit into my hand, wrap my fingers around my cock, and groan the second I touch myself.
My head’s tipped back, panting through clenched teeth as I chase the edge, every muscle drawn tight with nothing but the thought of her.
I close my eyes, and she’s right there.
Piper.
I imagine her laid out in that bed down the hall, her legs spread wide, fingers slipping between her thighs.
I can see the way her back arches when she finds that perfect spot, the way her breath hitches, and the soft, needy gasps filling the silence. The way her other hand grips the sheets, fingers twisting in the fabric, searching for something to hold onto while she falls apart.
I stroke myself faster, my hand slick with precum, and my jaw clenched so tight it aches. My chest heaves, my muscles tighten, and sweat beads along my skin as I chase my release.
I turn, my free hand slamming against the doorframe, fingers digging into the wood as a growl rips from my throat. My strokes turn brutal as I picture her in that bed, her skin flushed, her lips parted, as she gets lost in the same desperate desire that’s tearing me apart.
My balls draw tight as pleasure scorches through me. Hot ropes of cum spill over my fist, and my body locks up as my orgasm crashes over me in violent waves.
I stand there for a few seconds, bracing myself against the frame, gripping it like it’s the only thing keeping me from storming down that hallway.
I can’t keep doing this.
I can’t keep standing here, alone in this room, when the only place I want to be is with her.