Chapter 11 #2
I snatch at his skin with my teeth, gently dragging the bite out as he sucks in a breath.
Moaning, he stretches under me as he grabs my phone off the table at the head of the bed and checks the time.
“Iron’s gonna want his bed,” he says.
The sun is coming up, and my brother was kind enough to crash on the couch last night. Sharing a room isn’t usually a problem, unless I don’t have a woman in here.
Which I haven’t in about a month. Callum has been more addictive than I would’ve imagined.
I lick the side of his spine, biting the skin again.
He jumps, shaking with a laugh. “What are you doing?”
I poke my finger into the bulge at the side of his spine. “I didn’t know these muscles were a thing.”
I run my thumb up the other side, feeling it there, too.
I’m not in bad shape, but he probably has trainers and a chef. There’s barely any fat to burn on him.
Rising up, I sink my mouth into his neck, sucking and kissing.
He gasps, and I love that he’s in great shape. His stamina is very appreciated.
“Your skin is soft, though,” I say.
He looks like he has rock under his skin, but he’s smooth, like velvet.
“But not softer than a woman’s skin, right?”
I bite him again. “I thought we weren’t talking about that.”
He turns over underneath me, and I hover over him, propped up on my hands.
“It doesn’t matter, I guess.” He gazes up at me. “I know that you can say or do whatever you want, and I’ll still be sneaking over here in the middle of the night in five years if you’ll still let me.”
Five years…
Jesus. I might be dead in five years. Who knows.
But in a flash flood, my future rushes my brain. An endless parade of one fuck after another, people’s faces I won’t even remember and him getting out of his expensive car, looking sexy in a suit.
I won’t be good enough for him by then. He’ll find men who are prettier, richer, and willing to be at his beck and call, and we’ll lock eyes once in a while, both remembering this summer when we were young.
But I have to hold back a frown, because I don’t like that future. I don’t want him to stop wanting me.
What am I doing?
I climb off him, grabbing my jeans. “I’ll take you to your car.”
We get dressed and descend the stairs, and I open the front door, letting him duck out before Iron wakes up on the couch. As if he doesn’t know who I had upstairs, but Callum doesn’t want to run into my family, especially in the light of day.
I hear Macon’s tools whirring in the garage, and I don’t know if he’s already up or never went to bed, but either way, he won’t be in a good mood, so I’m not going to ask. I’m just taking the truck.
We hop in the cab, and I pull out the spare on my ring, starting the engine. I jet off before he has a chance to step out into the street and bark.
Low-hanging clouds get darker the farther toward St. Carmen I go, and today’s going to be nothing but storms. Can’t do much work in this weather, and I’m not tired. I used to just use these days as excuses to day drink, but I don’t think I’m feeling that now.
Maybe I’ll go lie on the empty beach, under the rain. I glance at Callum, opening my mouth to see if maybe—
But I close it again.
“My dad and stepmom will be out of town this weekend,” he says next to me. “I’ll be coming over here for the lighthouse party.”
I nod.
“Why don’t you chase us out of the Bay and follow me home?” he teases. Everything in my chest feels light, like my lungs are floating, and I can’t contain it. A grin forms, and I meet his eyes.
And that’s how he’s kept my interest for a month. He knows how to play.
The image of me giving him a blow job in his daddy’s desk chair will keep me going all week. God, he’s fun.
Once we’ve crossed the tracks, it takes no time to get to the visitor’s center parking lot. He grabs his phone out of the cup holder and looks at me. This would be the part where a girl would lean in for a kiss goodbye, even though I never initiate.
Callum just sits there, a smile playing on his lips, because this is the part where we turn back into two dudes who didn’t just fuck last night.
“See you,” he says, opening the door.
“See ya.”
I watch him through the windshield, rain starting to pelt his shirt and hair as he heads for his matte black M3, which he refuses to let me drive. It’s fine. He’s looked good driving it the two times I’ve been inside it.
But when he’s almost at his car, a man climbs out of the vehicle behind his, and it looks like Callum and I realize at the same time that his father just watched me drop off his son.
“Fuck,” I bite out.
Garrett Ames is in khakis and a cream-colored quarter zip like he’s about to golf. He walks up to his son, Callum immediately falling back a few steps. I watch Garrett start reprimanding him beyond my windshield, clear by the way he leans in and uses his hands a lot.
Callum glances at me, and I sit up straight, grabbing the door handle. Callum shakes his head at me, warning me off.
But I can’t leave. I’ve never been much for honor, but it feels particularly shitty to just drive off like a coward.
They continue to argue, and I roll down my window.
“I partied and crashed at their house!” Callum explains. “Jesus!”
Ames’s hand whips across Callum’s face, and then he grabs his son by the collar and throws him against his car.
I clench my jaw, tightening my fist around the handle. “Goddammit,” I bite out.
It’s none of my business.
It’s none of my fucking business.
Garrett bombards him with bullshit after bullshit, getting in his face and damn near spitting. I can’t hear what he says, but it’s obvious he’s tearing his kid apart.
Then…he grabs Callum’s groin, his son squeezing his eyes shut as the pain sears through him.
“Motherfucker,” I growl.
And I leap out of the cab, running.
I shove his fucking father away from him, placing myself between them.
“Don’t touch him again,” I growl.
Garrett stands tall, glaring at me as rain streaks down our faces.
He doesn’t come at me, though. He fucking knows better. If the Jaegers weren’t smart, we could make sure his body is never found. Of course, he’s not worth any risk, but he doesn’t quite want to push us, either.
Unfortunately, unlike him, I don’t know better. Macon’s going to hear about this, and we might lose some clients.
“Get in your fucking truck,” Garrett tells me. “I’m not paying for whatever he came to you for.”
I charge for him, but Callum is there, stopping me. “Dallas, don’t.”
He stares at me, our noses a few inches apart as he presses a hand to my chest. His eyes plead with me.
Garrett shoves his son toward his car. “Stay away from him,” he barks at me.
Garrett walks to his Mercedes, Callum slowly drifting away from me. “It’s okay,” he mouths. “I can handle him.”
But as I watch him go to his car, ready to follow that fucking prick home, I just want him back in my truck.
He opens his car door, looking over at me. “I’ll see you soon.”
There’s an air of confidence about the way he says it, as if he’s reassuring me that this doesn’t change anything.
And as I watch him drive away, following his father, I wince at the pain in my chest.
I don’t want to feel this.
I never feel shit like this.
I don’t want it.
It’s not worth it. It’s not like we were going to fall in love. Or stay together forever. He’s going to find someone else eventually.
He’s going to leave for college at some point.
Maybe I’ll leave town, too. We were just fucking around.
I should never have told him about my mom. He’s a Saint, and Garrett Ames won’t tolerate any hint of anything between us.
Combing my fingers over the top of my head, my hair wet from the rain, I climb back into the truck, still smelling him in the cab.
I lean back and rub my eyes, swallowing through the pain in my throat.
Pulling out my phone, I scroll through my contacts and delete Callum.
My eyes burn, and I bite the inside of my mouth to keep myself in fucking check.
I throw my phone down on the seat, shift into gear, and hit the gas, the tires peeling under me as I race back to the Bay as fast as I can.