Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SADIE
I thought I would feel different.
A small part of me always thought I would have this out-of-body moment—that after it was over, I’d feel forever changed.
But I still feel like me—a little sore, but me.
Wesley was softer than I expected him to be. I didn’t feel like just a fuck buddy as he pumped slowly inside of me. It felt like we were making love. He kept brushing my hair away from my face and pressing gentle kisses against my skin.
It was…romantic.
My playlist flowed through the speakers of his truck as we moved together, like a moment plucked right out of a movie.
After the painful burn of my body stretching around him—to accommodate him—faded away, I actually enjoyed it. I know it’s normal to not have an orgasm your first time, but I didn’t expect it to feel good.
He kissed me, slow and passionate, as he pulled out of me, a huge grin on his face. Wesley’s smiles are rare, which made catching one feel like holding sunlight in my hands.
If I’d known all he needed to get out of his grumpy, brooding bubble was to come, maybe I would’ve proposed this arrangement weeks ago.
He silently passed me my clothes before hopping down, both of us getting dressed without a word.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.
“Hey, thanks for swiping my V card. Let’s do this again sometime?”
No way.
Yanking my sweater over my head, I decide to just play it off and pretend like this is a totally normal thing for me. Sex is no big deal.
“What the fuck?” Wesley’s deep, gravelly voice cuts through the silence.
I glance over. His eyes flick between the blankets we were lying on…and himself.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, still digging around for my missing underwear.
He doesn’t answer.
Giving up my search, I pull on my leggings and glance back at him. He’s still shirtless, wearing only his briefs.
At least one of us found our underwear.
But he’s no longer pulling his clothes on. He’s frozen, staring down.
My stomach drops—something is off. This isn’t his usual quiet.
Is he freaking out? Regretting this?
This whole thing could ruin everything he’s been working toward. He could get into so much trouble. Disappoint his dad. I don’t even want to think about the possibility of my father finding out.
Does he feel like I pushed him into this?
He hasn’t brought anyone home the entire time I’ve been here. He hasn’t even gone out unless I was there.
Did he actually want this?
He mutters something under his breath and I’m struck with a violent pang of guilt.
“Sadie…” he says finally, letting out a deep sigh. His eyes drop to the blankets again, and this time, I follow his gaze.
Blood.
There is blood smeared on the blankets.
My blood.
I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to swallow the lump in my throat.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. I can’t bring myself to look at him. I’m frozen, eyes stuck on the rumpled, stained blankets.
“I just…didn’t want to make it a big deal,” I say finally, forcing a shrug like it doesn’t matter. Pretending I don’t feel like there’s a cinder block on my chest.
He doesn’t say anything, and I need to fill the silence.
“This doesn’t change anything.”
“No, Sadie.” He sighs, shaking his head. “This changes everything.”
His words press into me, heavy and uncomfortable.
Changes everything.
What does that even mean? That we ruined what we had? That he regrets all of it?
“It’s really not a big deal, Wesley,” I repeat, finally looking at him. “I’m fine.”
He runs a hand down his face before hastily pulling his sweatpants back on. When his eyes meet mine, they’re glassy, brimming with emotion.
“It is a big deal, Sadie. It’s a huge fucking deal.”
His voice cracks ever so slightly on the last word. The walls I’ve meticulously built around my heart crumble, and I can’t help the tears as they spill over, streaking down my cheeks.
He closes the space between us, cupping my face, wiping away each and every tear with the pads of his thumbs.
“Shhh. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you.” He pulls me into his bare chest, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “I promise I’m not mad at you, Sadie, baby…Please don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice breaking as more tears slip free. “I didn’t think it would matter to you. I just didn’t think.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his brows drawing together like he’s trying to understand how I could even think that.
“Of course it matters,” he says softly, dragging a hand over his jaw. “If I’d known…I would’ve gone slower. I would’ve made sure I didn’t hurt you. Not”—his gaze shifts to the crumpled blankets—“not like this.”
My lip trembles, but I shake my head hard enough to make my hair fall into my face.
“It was better than I ever imagined it would be,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Because it was with you.”
He pulls me back into him, holding me in a way that makes my throat close. His breath ghosts against my temple, ragged and uneven, like he’s barely holding himself together.
“You deserve more than this,” he murmurs, lips brushing my hair.
My chest caves at the way his voice cracks. “I didn’t want that. I just wanted you.”
He shakes his head—stubborn to the bone—but his hands never stop their slow, soothing circles on my back. His chin settles on the crown of my head, his breath warm in my hair.
“I just…I can’t stand the thought of you regretting me—regretting this.”
My heart lurches painfully. I pull back just enough to see him, really see him. His eyes are shadowed in the dark.
“I won’t,” I whisper. “I could never regret you.”
Something unguarded flickers across his face. Then he’s leaning in, brushing his mouth over mine with a tenderness so careful it hurts. No frantic edge this time, no hunger swallowing us whole—just slow, reverent kisses, like every second he steals is one he thinks he doesn’t deserve.
There is not a single cloud in the sky. Everything is glowing in milky moonlight.
We’re fully dressed, bundled under the blankets in the bed of the truck. My head rests on his chest and his arm is wrapped around me.
We’re cuddling.
I’m not an expert, but this feels very much outside the guidelines of a fling. Yet neither of us pulls away.
The thought of having to go back to the main house and sneak into our separate rooms sparks an ache I don’t care to unpack right now.
“Could we stay out here tonight?” The question slips out before I can give it a second thought.
Wesley pulls me closer into him, resting his cheek on the top of my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh. Right.”
We aren’t together like that. Sleepovers aren’t part of the deal.
This is supposed to be purely physical.
No emotions. No feelings.
It was my freaking idea, so why am I having such a hard time sticking to it?
“Not because I don’t want to,” he adds. “I just don’t have the energy to fight a grizzly or mountain lion tonight.”
I’m an idiot.
“Mmm, yeah,” I hum, snuggling into him closer. “My money is on the bear.”
“Is my untimely demise a joke to you?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirked.
“Never,” I say, hiding a smile. “I would mourn the appropriate amount of time one would mourn the death of their sort-of-friend with benefits.”
He clutches his hand to his chest. “Truly honored to be your sort-of-friend. I can’t wait to see the benefits when I’m promoted to actual friend.”
“Bold of you to assume there’s a promotion in your future.”
“I can be ambitious when I wanna be.”
Then, in one swift movement, he rolls us until I’m pinned beneath him, his arms caging me on both sides of my head.
“Aww, is cuddle time over already?” I joke, sticking out my bottom lip.
He answers with a soft kiss, but there’s nothing soft about what it does to me.
A guttural need awakens inside of me like a living thing.
More of his kisses.
More of his touch.
More of him pressed into every inch of me.
I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him down to me, deepening the kiss until it stops feeling like kissing and starts feeling like drowning—in him, in us, in whatever this is between us.
Before him, I never lost control. Desire was a concept, and now it’s a pulse, unable to be contained.
When his mouth slides down my jaw, licking and nipping my skin, my resistance shreds. The moan that escapes me is helpless, needy, his.
“I want to make you feel good,” he breathes into my ear, and the sound of his voice—low, wrecked—sends tingles down my entire body, melting every coherent thought I have left.
His hand slides between my thighs, rubbing slow circles over my leggings exactly where I’m aching. I swear my heartbeat slips into my throat.
“That—that feels good.” The words come out breathy, an almost broken whimper.
“Are you too sore?” he asks between kisses, his lips trailing down my throat like he’s tasting the ache he caused.
Instead of answering, I reach for his waistband, wanting him with a desperation that borders on reckless. He catches my wrist, stopping me with a groan.
“While I love your enthusiasm…we can’t.”
“I’m fine,” I whine in protest. “I want to.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth, maddeningly gentle. “I’d love nothing more than to fuck you again. I want it more than I should. But I’m not…prepared.”
“What do you mean?”
“I only brought one condom.”
“Oh.”
“I wasn’t even sure we would use it tonight. Next time, I’ll have an entire box at our disposal. I promise.”
Next time.
He kisses me again—deeper, hungrier. My hips lift into his without permission, rolling against him until all rationality evaporates.
“We still can,” I murmur, dragging my tongue up his throat, tasting the salt of his skin, the pulse hammering under it.
“Sadie…” he groans, a sound so raw it vibrates through his chest. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”