Chapter 27
Bradford
Maybe inviting her over was a mistake. I pace the kitchen, staring at the ingredients I’ve already set out on the counter. I’d encourage anyone else to take the jump and do something for themselves… So, why is this so goddamn hard for me?
Because I didn’t expect her to say ‘yes.’ That’s why.
My eyes bounce to the window. I keep waiting for Dr. Williams’ headlights to cut through the night, and I run my palms across my denim, as I imagine the SUV bouncing down my driveway. I don’t know what seeing her again is going to do to my mind, but I can’t keep avoiding it.
This shit is going to get a lot worse if I keep doing that.
Still, I barely know this woman, but I have…feelings. And a hell of a lot of suspicions. Maybe those are the feelings, and this is just research.
Or the possessive fuck I am is coming to the surface again.
I push that thought away as my phone buzzes, and I feel the vibration against my upper thigh. My heart jumps with anticipation, and the hair on my arms stands up. It could just be Turner, complaining about babysitting Cade.
I mean, Dr. Williams has every fucking right to just…ignore me.
“And that could be for the best,” I say to myself, as I dig my phone out of my pocket.
I feel a little shame for responding with so much anticipation for this whole thing. Another reminder that I am out of control. My stomach sinks deeper, as I hold the device in my hand, screen down. I could just put it back in my pocket. Ignore it. Like I do everything.
Or not.
I roll the phone in my hand, so it lights up.
Jenna: OMW. I’m starving!
A stupid burst of excitement rushes over me. My face flushes unwantedly, and I know it’s obvious. This is bad. I’m acting like a fucking teenager on his first date.
So, I roll my shoulders and distract myself.
I fill a pot with water and put it on the stove.
I set a box of penne pasta next to it. I preheat the oven to 350 and start preparing the garlic bread.
Then I get to work slicing tomatoes, garlic, fresh basil.
The mechanical motions of making dinner give my hands something to do, but they don’t stop my head from spinning.
I hope this goes well. But what does ‘well’ even mean? More sex? Deeper bonding? What the fuck do I even want out of this? A distraction from Cade?
“Don’t spiral,” I mutter under my breath, just as I dump the finished noodles through the strainer. However, as the gush of steam fills the air, the knock on the door causes my heart to jump.
Shit. This is it. I have to let her in now.
I leave everything where it is, and make my way to the front door, wiping my hands on a dish towel as I go. One last exhale comes steadily from my parted lips, as I pull the door open.
And there she is. In all her intoxicating glory.
“Hey,” I grunt, sounding exactly like them miserable fuck that I am. “Sorry for the late notice.” My eyes sweep over her blonde hair, which is down but still messy, probably from the wind. I step to the side, and gesture for Dr. Williams to come, and she does.
Albeit with side eying me the entire time.
Her black sweater clings to her as she strips off her coat. I take the coat, and hang it on the rack, while she wraps her arms around herself.
“It smells amazing in here,” she peers up at me, her jaw clenching and unclenching.
She’s nervous, too.
“I’m just making bruschetta pasta,” I tell her. “Nothing special. Just food.”
She lets out a laugh. “You don’t have to play it so coy, Calvin.”
I find myself chuckling, but it’s riddled with anxiety. “Call me Cal. I hate my name.”
She cocks a brow, following me into the kitchen. “Why?”
“It was my father’s,” I admit, my stomach recoiling at the reminder. “You can call me whatever the hell you want, just not my full first name.”
She nods, leaning up against the counter. “Okay, then Cal, it is.”
I eye her as I dump the pasta back into the empty pot and pour the bruschetta mixture over it, folding everything together. She leans over, inspecting my work.
“So,” she says. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Not that great,” I say, talking with more ease. “It’s a simple recipe. I learned it from a…friend.”
Jenna picks up on the fumble. “Friend? Or an ex?”
“More like a coworker, who’s now spending the rest of his life in prison.” I don’t know why the hell I’m telling this woman so much truth, but she doesn’t seem surprised, just…nosey.
“What’d he do?”
I pull the garlic bread out of the oven and set the white cutting board on the counter. “He murdered someone.” I place one of the toasted loaves down and start slicing it at an angle, trying to give it an aesthetic edge.
“Why?”
“Because,” I pause, thinking back to my Marine buddy. “He did what we were trained to do, in a situation that he shouldn’t have done it.”
And that’s why I do what I do now.
Jenna drums her fingertips on the counter, and as I glance over at her, I can tell she’s still curious. But she’s also hesitant to keep asking questions. And for some reason, that makes me nervous. I can’t stop moving. I just keep cutting.
I’m torturing myself with this. Or growing from it? Exposure therapy? My gaze jumps back to her, and I can’t help it. My mouth fucking moves.
I stop, setting the knife down. “Why did you go on a date with the professor? You know, the night we, uh—”
“It wasn’t a date.” Her brows skyrocket. “It was just a coworker thing. I was trying to fit in. I thought he was just being friendly,” she pauses, and something shifts in her expression, “But it’s never just friendly, is it?”
I search her pretty eyes, wishing I could tell her it can be just fucking friendly. But I’ve never thought just a friendly thought about her. Not from the moment I laid eyes on her.
“Sorry,” Jenna mumbles, her eyes dropping to her hands.
“Don’t apologize.” My voice softens for the first time in years with someone that’s not Molly. “Men are animals most of the time.”
Her thick lips curl into a half-smile, her cheeks suddenly ruddy. “Are you an animal?” She bites down on her lower lip, and it runs straight to my cock.
Fuck it.
I reach for her.
I thread my fingers through her messy hair and pull her mouth to mine. She surprises me by kissing me back without any hesitation. She grabs my lower lip with her teeth and pulls. I respond by grabbing hers back, my hand sliding down to her ass, gripping it firmly and pulling her closer.
She exhales sharply into my mouth as my cock grinds into her lower stomach. Her fingers find my shirt, and fist it, holding me to her body.
And fuck, it feels so good to have her pressed against me like that.
My tongue pushes into her mouth. Her tongue entangles with mine, and something about the way she tastes just sets me off.
I want her. Now. a
I push her into the counter, her little gasp only pushing me forward. I pull my mouth from hers, and kiss her cheek under her jaw, then her neck. I take a moment to bite into her flesh, and she immediately leans her head back, a light moan slipping from her lips.
I need her to do more of that.
My composure slips, and lift her shirt, exposing her skin, smattered with freckles. I drop my body, kiss her ribs beneath her black lace bra.
“We should eat,” she breathes out, squirming against me.
I immediately pull back, sensing the shift. “Too much?”
She shakes her head. “It’s just… Been awhile.”
“Like a week?” I chuckle but rip myself away from her.
She smooths her sweater out. “Well, yeah, but I don’t think that… I don’t think that really counts?”
I cock a brow at her. “Wait, so sex in a parking lot doesn’t count?”
Her fingers tremble as she continues to tug at the hem of sweater. “Well, no,” she says quickly. “But it wasn’t that intimate, you know? Like, we were just on the high of… Whatever that was.”
“Me sucker punching your coworker?”
She breaths out a sigh. “Well, that’s one way to put it.”
“Really,” I fork out her pasta into a bowl. “It’s the only way to put it. Speaking of, how is your relationship with Ian now?”
She rolls her eyes. “He avoids my office like the plague.”
“Good,” I mutter, hating the vindication that follows that fact. Something has tripped my obsessive tendencies, and it’s better to just name it, than ignore it. Though, the thought of that fucker touching her flashes through my mind intrusively. Irritation spikes, then fades.
I hand her the bowl, dropping a piece of garlic bread on the top. She eyes me, as if I might take it back or something. There’s something so fucking weird about Dr. Jenna Williams, and I can’t put my finger on it.
She holds my gaze as she takes a bite, chews, and then swallows. “This is really good. I’m impressed.”
“Mmm.” I grab her hips and lift her onto the counter so she’s facing me. I watch her eat, enjoying the way she moves—slow, tantalizing, and completely distracting.
“You’re handsy.” She runs her tongue along her lower lip.
I slide my hand onto her thigh and stare at her while she keeps eating. I’ve completely lost my appetite for the food. “You’re too appealing, Jenna.” I hesitate, trying to hold back the animalistic side of me. “You can tell me stop.”
She swallows, a thread of lust in her expression. “Keep going.”
“Good, because you’re my fucking dinner.” I toss my hat to the counter and hook my fingers into the waistband of her pants after undoing the button. I start the process of pulling them down. I lift her, slide the jeans below her hips, and set her back down.
She goes to set her bowl down.
“No,” I stop her. “Keep eating.”
And I keep going, pulling her pants to her ankles, dropping them to the floor, and spreading her thighs. I pause, watching her, watching the way she reacts.
Jenna watches me, her fork hovering near her lips.
I drag her to the edge of the counter and lower myself between her legs.
“Eat, Jenna,” I command.
Her eyes widen, but she puts the food in her mouth.
And I put her in mine.
I start slow, dragging my tongue upward, tasting her. She’s already so fucking wet. I circle her clit, loving the way her breath hitches mid bite. My hands slide up the tops of her thighs, spreading her wider for me.
“Cal…” My name comes out breathy, as I get lost in the addictive fucking taste of her cunt. Maybe I just haven’t had pussy in so long. Or maybe she’s just got the best one.
I don’t know. And I don’t care.
My cock throbs at the way she reacts, her hips rolling against my face as my chin bobs against her opening. I give it to her, licking, circling, and holding her against me. She moans louder, the fork clattering against the bowl.
I slip a finger inside her and stroke her. She’s so soaked. I feel her pussy clench around me, as she squirms more.
“Just fuck me,” she breathes, the bowl of dinner hitting the countertop.
“Not until you come all over my goddamn face,” I groan into her, pushing in another finger. She bucks against me, and I pick up my pace. “Come on, Jenna. Explode on me.”
“Oh fuck,” she cries, as she comes undone, gripping the counter, losing control. I draw it out as long as I can, feeling her walls clench around me.
That is so fucking satisfying.
I press a kiss to her pussy, and then pull away. But as I lean back, Jenna grabs me, and pulls me up to kiss her. I kiss her back, giving her a taste of herself.
And then I strip her of the rest of her goddamn clothes.