Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Bristol
“A little busy at the moment.” Anson works to put himself back into his pants and slowly draw the zipper up. It sounds so damn loud in this room.
I glance at myself in the mirror, doing a quick check to make sure this isn’t a repeat of the wedding. Everything seems to be in order, minus the fact that I’m dressed as if I belong in a bar three shots deep on Halloween, screaming out the lyrics to “Thriller.”
I hear Bo’s laugh through the curtain. Anson and I are apparently terrible at sneaking around. Mostly due to not locking doors properly. I have no idea how Bo even got in here.
“I see that. Does Bristol know you’re using her changing room?” He pauses long enough that I think he’s done. Maybe we’re not truly caught. Maybe it’s just Anson. He could explain this away somehow, but then Bo continues, “She finds out, you’re both dead.”
I look to Anson for a way out. I’m almost ready to burst through this curtain and ask Bo how the hell he got in back here. He should be waiting for someone to open the door for him, even if he does have the password to get in.
“She knows.” Anson flicks me a sideways glance.
“I see.” Another long pause has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. Bo clears his throat. “You know when she’ll be back?”
“Give her ten minutes. She went to get lunch. She’s probably at Hotcakes.” Hotcakes is my best friend Marlowe’s bakery and café down the street. On a normal day, I probably would be there right now.
“Just came from there and didn’t see her. But all right. I’ll take a walk and be back in ten.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Anson’s gruff in his response, and I hold my breath while we wait for Bo’s footsteps to retreat.
“Do you think that worked?”
“You need better security back here. Anyone could come in. And you’re alone back here? At night?” Anson’s voice takes a protective edge.
“Okay, Dad. I’m fine.” I give Anson a pointed look that tells him to back off.
He does this sometimes. Launches into weirdly overprotective dad mode, worrying about safety.
He’ll suddenly decide we need to act like I’m in need of a high-level security detail, carrying a sidearm and asking what kind of surveillance I have installed.
If Bo didn’t ruin the mood by walking in, this sudden need to treat me like I’m incapable of handling myself and my business does.
“I can handle things around here. You spend too much time around Grant if you’re going to talk to me like that.” Grant treats Dakota like she’s Ft. Knox. She’s grown to love him for it. Anson and I have a way to go before he gets that kind of say in my life.
He takes a beat and a breath before he responds. Clearly reassessing his snap reaction.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re capable. I just worry about you.”
“You’re forgiven. I must’ve just forgotten to close it all the way or something.
I was a little distracted.” I run my fingers down his forearm to let him know I appreciate the apology.
I’d love to go back to five minutes ago when this man was looking at me like I was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen in his life.
I could take that version of him any day.
“Too much fun. At least before the interruption.”
The furrow in his brow melts away, and I can tell by the look in his eyes he’s remembering what we were doing before Bo decided to barge in.
“Speaking of…” His hand goes to my waist as he speaks, and he backs me up against the wall, pressing a kiss to my throat, and then another. “Why are your panties still on?”
“Because I’d prefer your brother not see me with them off?” I whisper back, giggling as he lets out a rumbling laugh that vibrates against my chest.
“Fair enough. I like him too much to kill him.”
“Me too.”
“But I want to hear you come for me.”
“You think that’s wise given the circumstances?”
“I think Bo’s taking a walk, and no one else would have the balls to barge in like that. We’ve got what? Eight minutes? I bet I can make that work.” His eyes dance with mischief in a way I rarely see on him. I want this version of him for as long as it lasts. Especially when I’m responsible for it.
“Okay, but you’ll have to do it with the panties on. If we’re interrupted again, I want plausible deniability.”
“Have you looked in the mirror? I don’t think anyone who sees you is gonna be confused about your being a quirky storm chaser.”
“They’re going to think you have quite the kink for old cinema starlets.”
“I can live with that.” Anson’s lips are at my throat again, and his hand slips under the skirt of my dress. “As long as I get to hear you come right now, I can live with anything.”
Two of his fingers slip between my thighs, gently stroking their way over the fabric of my panties as I bite my lower lip.
I’m fighting back a moan already. Being on my knees for this man in public makes me wet.
Getting caught was the kind of rush I wasn’t expecting, and I’m halfway to coming just from thinking about someone catching Anson with his hands down my panties.
I spread wider, and the next pass of his fingers teases over my clit through the damp fabric.
I roll my hips in search of more friction, and it earns me a low chuckle from him.
“Look at my girl. So fucking eager to be touched.” Anson’s possessive tone takes over again, but this time I like it. I want it. I think it’s half the reason the idea of being caught turns me on.
“Oh my god.” I gasp, the realization hitting me at the same time his fingers slip under my panties and over my clit.
“Anson, darlin’. Not God.” He nips at my throat, and I’m fucking lost in it. In him. The way every touch of his lights up my body. I wanted flutters and this man gives me full body shivers.
“Anson, please,” I whimper when he teases me with tighter circles over my clit.
“That’s better.” He groans when he slips them inside, using his thumb to keep up the pressure on my clit.
“Oh, damn…” I murmur. He’s got the perfect rhythm.
I suspect it’s because he was paying such close attention the other day in the truck.
He treats me and my pleasure the same way he does everything else.
Careful attention to detail. Taking notes.
Iterating on the success. Discarding what doesn’t work. I get why he’s popular with women.
I hate the thought as soon as it hits me.
A flash of jealousy burns through me, and I’m annoyed with myself for feeling it.
This is temporary. I have to remember that.
Get used to it. Anson’s not mine to keep.
I just get the fun side of him for a little while longer, and I need to enjoy it while it lasts.
“Fuck. You’re so damn pretty like this. I’m gonna need you to pack this dress up when we’re done so I can take it home and burn it. I’m not risking another man seeing you look like this.”
“No?” I ask and release another whimper when he changes his tempo just when I need it, and I angle my hips to let him have better access. He drops to his knees in front of me and drags my panties down to mid-thigh, looking up at me and holding my eyes.
“No. This is mine,” he says and moves his thumb to the side, his tongue dragging over my clit. “Say it,” he demands.
“It’s yours. Fuck. It’s yours, Anson,” I cry out the words, and they fade on a moan as my hips rock against his face.
My fingers sink into his hair as I try to hold on through wave after wave of one of the best orgasms of my life.
Who needs toys when you’ve got Anson? This man could put me out of business. Figuratively. Literally.
He lets me come down from my high, kissing me softly for several moments while I catch my breath.
I brush my fingers through his hair as he puts my panties back into place and licks his fingers clean.
As he rises to his feet again, I expect the swell of possessiveness to fade.
That maybe, just maybe, all of that stuff in my head about wanting him more than just for now to float away the same way I feel like I might. But it doesn’t.
“Well, that was…” I fade into a quiet laugh, and he kisses me tenderly in response. “I’d make it a joke about being a fantasy, but I think Bo might have ruined that a bit.”
“Do you have a fantasy?” He kisses me one last time before he pulls back to study me, waiting for my response.
“I don’t think so.” I shrug. “Should I?” It’s a white lie. I have one. I even have one that specifically involves him, but confessing that right now feels too big. Too heavy. I need to float not sink into oblivion right now.
“I figure everyone does.” His eyes drift over my face and down to my lips.
“Do you?”
“A few.” He kisses me again, and this is new, even for us. Casual kisses after what we did feel like more than what a couple of strangers would do in the dark.
“Are you going to tell me them?”
“When you dream up a few of your own.” He gives me one last slow kiss. “You tell me when you’re ready. Until then go get some lunch.”