Chapter 13 Lyon #2
Spoiler alert: it ain’t good.
“Oh! Look! They’re already here.”
Pulling to a stop in her drive right behind the contractor's truck, we slowly exit the vehicle and head for the front door. She pauses on the porch, takes a deep breath, and pushes her way inside. She doesn’t get more than a couple of steps in before she grinds to a halt with a pained gasp.
There’s at least an inch of water covering the floor, the smell of mildew hanging heavy in the air.
“It looks so much worse in the light of day,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Hey, Ridge? Can you come out here for a second?” a masculine voice calls from somewhere outside.
“Sure thing.” He gives each of us a quick look, then heads out. “I’ll be right back.”
She doesn't respond. Instead, she’s standing in the middle of the mess with her shoulders slumped and her hands trembling as she squeezes herself tighter.
She looks so incredibly lost when she’s normally so strong.
Seeing her like this is gutting me, but I’m not sure what to do.
Ridge or Memphis are usually the ones to rush forward and comfort a crying woman.
Not me. My experience with hugs is pretty much limited to Memphis’ and Ridge’s families.
I was so touch starved when I was taken in by them that they all made it a point to meet that deep-seated need so I could overcome my trauma.
Now, everything inside me is demanding I do the same for her, but… Does she want that?
When she turns, her big green eyes are filled with tears.
“Lyon?” she rasps.
I step forward, brushing a stray hair off her cheek. I might not have the words to fix it, but I can be there for her in any other way she’ll let me.
“Can I…” She blows out a ragged breath, lifting those sad eyes up to meet mine. “Will you just…hold me for a second?”
Without hesitation, my hands circle around her back and pull her into me.
Her cheek rests against my chest, her arms wrapping around my middle even though they don’t quite touch behind me.
Instead, she just grabs fistfuls of my t-shirt.
My palm is splayed out against her upper back with my fingertips brushing along her shoulders.
She’s so fucking small, I’m almost worried I’ll break her.
Without conscious thought, my free hand runs down the length of her ponytail over and over again.
We stand there like that, the seconds ticking by with neither of us needing words.
Just the simple act of a man comforting a woman.
When she starts to pull away, Auggie’s words from last night hit me square in the chest. You snooze, you lose.
I don’t want to be the odd man out anymore, not when it comes to Shay.
She trusts me enough to comfort her. Will she trust me with more?
Without conscious thought, I wrap her ponytail around my hand and tug her head back.
There’s shock in her eyes, so I study her, praying I don’t see that surprise turn into fear.
When I catch the slightest flicker of need, coupled with her scent that’s gone sweet with added vanilla, I take a moment to brush my thumb back and forth against her back.
“Stay with us,” I murmur, warring between the need to soothe her and the desire to shove her back against the wall to ravish her.
Her lips part as her eyes dip to my mouth. I can count on two fingers the number of girls I’ve kissed. I have no idea if I’m any good at it, but I’ve never wanted to find out more than I do right now.
“If I stay, are you… Do you… Is this something you might want? You can say no. I won’t be offended. I—”
The fact that she’s unsure somehow puts me at ease.
At least I’m not the only one here who feels like the world is tilting beneath him.
Without letting her finish her thought, I lean down and press my mouth to hers.
She tastes like spiced peanut butter and whiskey, and I can’t stop the low hum of approval that rumbles out.
Her tiny hand sneaks up the back of my neck and into my hair.
The next thing I know, she’s climbing me like a tree, her tongue forcing my lips open until we’re suddenly making out like a couple of kids right in the middle of the disaster that is her living room.
With one hand on her ass and the other sliding under the rim of her hat and into hair, this possessive need to control the situation rushes through me.
I imagine my fist wrapped in the silky soft strands as I tug her head back to bite along the column of her throat.
I picture my large hand wrapped around the graceful curve of her neck as I pound into her from behind.
The images that flash behind my eyelids shock and thrill me, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I have her backed up against the wall next to the front door.
She’s grinding against me, mewling like one of our barn kittens.
The sound of a throat clearing barely penetrates the fog, but when it does, I force myself to pull back from the intoxicating woman now whimpering in my arms. We’re breathing heavily, staring at each other like no one else exists.
“I really hate to break this up, but the contractor is waiting outside to speak to you, Shay.”
When I dare to break my gaze away from Shay, amusement is shining in Ridge’s blue eyes.
Fuck.
“Right.” She clears her throat, a pretty pink blush tinting her cheeks as she adjusts her hat and tightens her ponytail.
When I step back from the wall and start to set her down, she clings to my neck, her hand tugging my hair to get my attention. She leans forward, brushing her lips against my ear.
“We’ll continue this later.”
She eases back, presses a kiss to the tip of my nose, and drops her legs. Slowly, I let her body slide down the front of mine while wishing like hell later was right now. Her eyes dip to the crotch of my jeans where a very large and angry bulge is pressing against the zipper.
She swallows harshly. “Big all over. Got it.”
Ridge bursts out laughing, and her blush grows two shades deeper.
“I’ll just…” She points toward the door. “Be right out there.”
She rushes through the opening, leaving me standing with Ridge.
“Guess that’s one less thing to worry about.”
He chuckles when he sees my raised eyebrow.
“I know you agreed to this, but I’ll admit I figured there was one of two ways this would play out.
One—you’d circle each other for weeks until one of you eventually broke down and gave in.
Or two—she’d just take what she wanted, when she wanted it, and leave you a drooling mess.
Just never factored in option three where you saw an opening and went for it with no thought to a potential audience. ”
I should be irritated that he thinks so little of my game, but to be fair, he wouldn’t be wrong.
Luckily for him, I love the dude and can’t find it in me to be upset.
I just had the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen clinging to me while her pussy was grinding against my jeans, her round ass in my hand, and her sweet tongue down my throat. What’s better? She wants more.
I’m a lucky man, one who might finally lose his membership to the one club no man wants to belong to. If I have anything to say about it, that’s happening tonight. It will take nothing less than a small act of God to stop me.