17. Chapter 17
I can’t sleep.
I’ve tried everything—writing, watching something, my vibrator—and nothing is shutting my brain off.
I look at the time on my phone and see it’s just after midnight. Throwing off the covers, I do something I’m sure Lennox would lose his shit about.
I throw on some tennis shoes, not bothering to change, grab my cell phone and a flashlight, and head out to one of the easier trails in the park.
It’s Texas, after all, so my lounge shorts and oversized T-shirt will be fine in this godforsaken lack of seasons.
Ten minutes later, I’m moving my flashlight back and forth to make sure I can see around me, and very quickly determining this was a terrible idea.
Sure, Will, just go to the secluded National Park, where anyone could be hiding and no one knows where you’re at. Great idea.
The paranoia grows, and my breathing starts to pick up. Hell, I know there are things that go bump in the night—I write about them almost daily—so why I thought this would be the thing to clear my head, I have no idea.
“Stupid, stupid Idea, Will,” I tell myself. The silence is eerie, so talking to myself is the next logical step, obviously.
I roll my eyes at myself, annoyed that I decided to come out here and that I’m freaking out. I was better off staying in bed, and tossing and turning all night.
I walk another couple of steps and then spin on my heel to head back home.
“Nope. I may be able to write this shit, but I’m going to call it like I see it—I’m chicken shit.”
“You’re not chicken shit,” a deep voice comes out of nowhere, and I scream bloody murder.
I drop my phone but grip the flashlight with both hands like a bat. I find out really quick that it hinders actually seeing around me when I do that.
“Who’s there? I … I will … beat the shit out of you with this flashlight!” I yell.
“It’s just me, Will. Stand down. I’m sorry I scared you.” A phone flashlight pops up on a phone and shines on Oakley’s face, where he’s standing two feet in front of me.
“What the actual fuck,” I heave out as I drop my flashlight and put my head between my legs. The panic is still raging through my body as I desperately try to calm it down.
“Shit, are you okay?” His voice sounds as panicked as I feel, but I don’t even have the brain power to worry about him right now.
“No! Oh my God, I think I just had a heart attack.” I feel his hand softly on my back, circling it while I continue my freak out. Once I finally catch my breath, I stand up and start laughing hysterically.
What a fucking mess I am.
“And I’m supposed to write thrillers. I should be better at this shit,” I say through my obnoxious laughter.
“Hey, that was totally on me. I should have turned on my light sooner so you saw me coming.” His shaky voice finally pulls my focus off of me and onto him.
I hold up my flashlight to see him better and see he’s pale as a ghost.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry if I scared you too.”
“I … I’m fine. I saw you but I feel like shit for scaring you.”
This man may have unknowingly hurt me, but he’s the most thoughtful person I know.
“I’m fine, really. I just couldn’t sleep, and it was a stupid move to come out here alone. Thought I’d be a badass and hoped a walk would help me sleep.” I grin, trying to lighten to mood.
But he isn’t having any of it.
“Why are you out here alone?” His tone shifts to complete seriousness, and the flashlight on his face highlights his clenched jaw.
He looks super fucking hot like this, which is wildly inappropriate right now.
“I impulsively thought a walk could help, and I didn’t actually consider what a walk at midnight in a tree-heavy national park would look like.” I ramble.
He grunts but says nothing, and it’s unnerving.
“You’ve got to be more careful.” His gruff tone catches me off guard more.
“You know, I don’t understand you. How the fuck can you act so concerned right now?” I know I’m starting to raise my voice, but seriously? He’s going to pull a protective act, like he didn’t fuck me and then leave like I was nothing more than a warm hole to fill? No, thanks. I’m not putting up with this shit.
“Willow—”
“No. This is bullshit, James. What did I do to deserve to be treated that way? I mean, sure, the sex is always great, but that last time? Do you know how fucking hurt I was?” It feels like the week I’ve been avoiding him has finally bubbled over and all my hurt is crumbling at my feet.
“I do.” He says it so softly I can barely hear him over my heavy breathing. “And I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I— What?” I think I misheard him.
“I fucked up, so badly. I learned some new information about Tennison that I didn’t handle well, and I thought my head was clear enough. God, I wanted it to be clear enough to not take it out on you, and I fucked up. I shouldn’t have even come to your house. I never want you to feel like you aren’t important to me. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
“Did you ever stop to think that you could just talk to me?” I don’t want to be this vulnerable right now, but I do want to see if maybe, just maybe, he’s realized I could be more.
“At the time? No. But I’ve been forced to do a lot of thinking in the last week—thank you for that, by the way. And I … I had a phone call with the therapist I talked to when I left the Marshals. He made me step back and realize a lot of things, honestly, but that’s not the point. The point is I fucked up, and I really need you to see how sorry I am. Selfishly, because this past week has been the absolute worst.”
“You talked to your therapist?” I’m not sure why that little nugget of information is sticking with me the most, but it’s huge. I don’t really care about the reason he made the call, but what I do care about is that he sounds so honest and humbled right now. I wish I could see his face, see the emotion I’m sure is showing all over it.
“I did. If I want to make my future into one I’m proud of—”
I stop thinking. For the first time in a week, my brain quiets. I step up to him, cutting off his words to pull him down to me and kiss him.
I kiss him with all the feelings I’ve been shoving down in the recesses of my brain. All the feelings for him that I’ve been desperate to hide and act like they aren’t there. I kiss him because he didn’t just apologize; he took fucking action.
And that’s the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen.
One of his huge arms wraps tight around my middle and the other boosts me up by my ass, letting me wrap my legs around his waist.
I will never get over our size difference and how it allows him to just throw my ass around wherever he wants.
I missed this.
I missed him.
And I know we need to sit down and talk more about … everything, but right now? I need him.
I need the way he knows exactly how to handle me. How he can get my brain to shut off with a well-placed kiss or the restraints he loves to use on me.
I feel him move, but it’s so dark I can’t really see where he’s going. Our lips are still connected in the type of kiss that makes me think I could be a romantic. When my back hits a tree, the rough scrape somehow heightens my arousal. I’m so fucking turned on. I know it’s not going to take long.
He rips his lips from mine, nuzzling my neck with his nose.
“I fucking missed you. More than you could ever imagine, Will. You make me want crazy things,” he whispers in my ear as he kisses my neck in between words.
“Less talking. Please,” I whimper out as he grinds against me.
He nips at my neck. “You going to boss me around tonight?”
“If you don’t get to it, fuck yeah, I will. I’ve already gotten off once tonight, and it totally sucked.” I rock my hips into him.
He abruptly pulls away from me. “What did you use?”
I’m mindless with need, so the question doesn’t register for a minute until he stills my hips.
“What did you use to get yourself off, Will?” he growls.
“My vibrator,” I breathe out.
“It didn’t give you the relief you need because it wasn’t me, wasn’t my cock filling you, was it?”
“No.”
My head tips back onto the tree as he kisses along my exposed shoulder, and the hand that’s holding my ass moves along my waist as he presses forward with his body weight to hold me up.
I feel his touch slide over my hip, over my shorts, and slip under my underwear.
“I like the shorts.” His voice holds a teasing lilt, and it so damn sexy.
Before I can come up with a snarky comeback to try to get a leg up in this spar of ours, his fingers circle my clit once before plunging two inside of me.
“Holy fuck,” I moan.
“Put your hands above your head and keep them there,” he growls as he keeps a steady rhythm with his fingers, and I comply without hesitation.
The bark of the tree scrapes against my palms as I try to grip it, but I don’t feel any pain. How could I when James Oakley holds my pleasure in the palm of his hand?
“God, I missed you. Missed this pussy clenching around my fingers. You close already, Trouble?”
“Shut up,” I say through gritted teeth, trying desperately to hold off my impending orgasm.
His chuckle threatens to send me over. The way he can get me there with barely any effort is scary. He has so much control over me, and I just want to tell him to take it all, take all of me.
My serious thoughts are interrupted by him pulling his fingers out of me and lifting me up higher onto his stomach. I whine at the loss, but he shushes me.
“I know, but I need to fuck you. That orgasm you’re about to have is going to be on my cock.” I hear him rustle a little before he drops my legs, still holding me up, and sliding my shorts and panties off before resuming our position. The tearing of the condom with his teeth is the only thing I can see in the dark forest, and he reaches under me to slide it on. Once it’s on, he shifts me again, and I cling to the tree desperately, trying to not move my hands. I don’t want to give him any reason to stop because he’s right—I am so fucking close.
“Just happen to have one handy?” I joke.
“I’ve taken to always having one on me because of you. I guess I stayed optimistic this week.” He presses a kiss to my jaw, making me smile.
Without preamble or warning, he slams me down onto his cock, and I groan into the silent forest.
“Fuck, Will. You feel too good, too wet, and too fucking mine,” he growls.
The possession in his words gets to me, and my entire body clenches up as I come.
“Fuck yes, come all over me. I missed this so Goddamn much. Missed you,” he breathes into my neck as he keeps a steady pace. “I’m sorry I messed up. I’m trying, Will.”
“I know,” I moan out, barely able to speak coherently.
“You make me want things.” His hand moves back to my ass as he shoves me closer to him, pushing himself deeper. “Shit, why is it always so good with you?”
His wonderment makes me smile. He never talks this much—not about things like this, at least—and it’s sweet and sensual at the same time.
“Because we’re good together,” I tell him quietly, almost hoping he doesn’t hear me because it’s too much. I know it’s too much, but damn it, it’s the truth. I’ve been a fucking mess this week, and the only change was not being around him, talking to him, sleeping with him.
“Yes. We. Are.” He punctuates each word with a hard thrust, and I feel myself getting close again. The arm around my waist protects most of my back from the friction. My thoughts turn to how I can get to my clit without disobeying him since both of his hands are occupied, but I can’t figure out a way.
“Focus on me, Will. What do you need?”
“My clit. I’m so close, but I need more stimulation,” I moan out frustrated.
“Such a good girl, not wanting to move your arms and defy me.” I hear the cockiness in his voice, and I want to call him on it, but the arm around my back moves as he steps back and creates more room between us.
“This what you need? My fingers on you?”
“Oh God, yes!” I scream, and the orgasm hits me hard. It completely catches me off guard with how strong it is as I scream out into the wild.
“Squeeze me just like that. Yes. Shit.” I hear his words, but I’m too lost in my orgasm to focus.
The fingers on my clit move away, and both hands grip my ass as he moves me with his thrusts as he comes.
He rests his forehead against mine, and it’s the most intimate moment I’ve ever had. I move my hands to his shoulders and just revel in the feeling.
We’re both trying to catch our breath, and I’m doing a very poor job of hiding how much this entire night is affecting me.
“I didn’t intend for this to happen,” he whispers against my lips.
“Yeah, I’ll take the blame for this one.” I huff out a laugh, then wince as a sore spot of my back scrapes against the tree.
“Oh shit, your back.” He abruptly pulls out of me, sets me down, and spins me around to check on me.
The brightness of a flashlight shines around me as he speaks, “I might have ruined your shirt.”
“Worth it.” I sigh.
He spins me back around, placing his hand on my jaw before bending down to kiss me.
Pulling back, the light shines over his face just enough to see the emotion on it.
“Can I take you somewhere, or do you want to go home and get to bed?” He sounds worried, and I realize how late it is.
“Let’s go.” I’m sure the tiredness will hit me, but this feels like a night for vulnerabilities and openness, and I don’t want to squander that for something as mundane as sleep.