Dutton
Chapter
Sixteen
The hangover hits before I’ve even opened my eyes, and the sound of an alarm going off right now only makes the pain in my head throb even more.
I reach out in search of my phone, just in case I set an alarm and don’t remember it, to put it on silent.
My shift comes with a moan that is much more feminine than the one I make when I’m miserable.
With my eyes still closed, I click the side of my phone, but the noise persists.
Another dainty moan joins the alarm, and then the weight of something warm hits my chest.
My eyes finally spring open to see Brooke’s body draped over mine, our legs tangled as we have somehow managed to make ourselves fit together on her couch.
The wine.
Four bottles.
The conversation.
The confessions.
The small touches here and there.
Brooke offering me a place to stay after we’d both drank way too much.
Slowly, her cheek lying on my bare chest nuzzles into me, and the arm she reached over to silence her phone with wraps around me and holds me tighter, her fingertips tickling the skin just above the waistband of my shorts.
My cock twitches, and I press my eyes closed.
Fuck.
As if she hasn’t realized the position we are in quite yet, she snuggles in closer. As if that were possible. Then she hikes a leg higher, her knee nudging my now-hard dick.
My hand snaps out to hold her leg in place before she can touch me again and put me deeper into misery.
“Books,” I say quietly. Her body stills, as if she had no idea she’s been crushing her body against mine for the past two minutes.
She glances up at the same time I look down.
First, I take in the way her eyes sparkle in the morning, the way her lips are just as plump and pink as they were last night, and the way a smile slowly forms on her lips as she processes our position.
Second, my gaze floats to where it’s clear as fucking day that she’s wearing only my shirt and no bottoms.
I was drunk last night, yes, but I know nothing happened between us. And I won’t lie, seeing her in nothing but my shirt has me seconds away from flipping us on this couch so I can settle myself between her thighs and finally taste the woman who has filled my thoughts morning to night.
“Hi,” she says softly, and her smile only grows.
I don't even try to hide my matching grin.
“Hi.”
Fuck, she is beautiful.
Then her phone goes off again, but in order for her to get off the couch, she has to crawl over me.
She stretches one leg over my midsection, allowing her body to slide over mine.
The moment her warm center meets my erection, I grip her hips on instinct to stop her.
She gasps. First, she looks at our connection, and then she sets her wide blues on my face.
She stays where she is, and I don’t try to shift her off me. Her chest rises on a breath, and mine matches.
Her gaze flickers to my lips and my heart pounds at the thoughts I hope are running through her head.
She bites her bottom lip, and like it’s a signal to my brain, my hands drift up her sides, tugging the shirt with them as they go. The higher I go up her waist, the more she leans forward.
At the last moment, her eyes meet mine, quietly asking me if this is happening.
I give the smallest nod, her lips dangerously close to mine.
Kissing her is going to be the death of me and it hasn’t even happened yet.
When she’s close enough, I take one hand and thread it through her hair, tipping her chin just so that I can press my lips to hers…
Her phone alarm goes off again, and she leaps off my body as if it burned her.
“Sorry, I’m... I’m opening at the bakery today, and I have like twenty alarms set on these days so I’m not late.”
I sit up slowly, swing my legs over the side of the couch, and rub a hand over my face.
“It’s fine. What time do you need to be there?”
“By 4:30.”
“4:30?” I repeat and look at my phone. “It’s 3:45 in the morning, Books,” I add with disbelief.
Had I not been distracted by my attraction for her, I might have noticed that we are both about to be running on maybe four hours of sleep total.
“Yeah, sorry. I should have told you that last night.” She lets out a small laugh. “We covered just about every subject but what time I go to work.”
She backs up to lean against the wall, one leg bent as she rubs the other and watches me. The way she looks in my shirt right now makes me ready to go feral.
I was aware of how much I wanted Brooke before this moment, but right now, I’m not sure I can restrain myself.
“Are … is … um…” She bites that damn lip again when she can’t think of the words she needs.
God, if only this woman knew what she does to me.
“Books, if you keep biting that lip of yours in front of me, I can assure you that you will be late for work.”
Her lip releases from her mouth with a pop.
“Oh.”
I stand, adjust myself, and then stalk toward her.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”
Our eyes lock.
“I don’t know if I should.”
“Oh, you should.”
“Will you tell me what’s going on in yours?” she asks.
“Yes. Always.”
She swallows, her eyes scanning over me before she reaches out to touch my stomach.
“These don’t seem real,” she says with a huff, her hand moving lower.
I step closer, my hand reaching out to cup her face, and my thumb brushes against her lower lip.
“I think about these lips far too many times during the day.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think about them?”
“I think of how they might taste against mine.”
She sucks in a breath as I move close enough to press her back to the wall and cage her in.
“I bet they taste sweet,” I add. Her breathing picks up, and the hand not resting against my stomach grabs my wrist, as if she needs to hold on.
“I want you to find out,” she whispers.
“You do?”
I press my body against her so she can feel how hard she makes me. So she knows I’m not just saying this to say it. I mean every single word.
“But I'm not sure we should,” she adds.
The leg wrapped around my waist, fitting our bodies together perfectly, says another.
My hand skims over her outer thigh until it reaches her ass.
I grip the entire cheek, and she moans.
My forehead falls to her shoulder.
“Should I stop?”
“No.”
Zero hesitation on her part.
Skimming my fingers under her cheek, I brush against her thong.
Her drenched thong.
“Fuck,” I growl into her ear, moving the fabric aside to rub my fingers over her.
“Shit.” Her head falls back to the wall with a thud.
“You’re so wet.” I nip at her ear and then kiss her shoulder. “I fucking love it.”
Her hips buck on my next stroke, so I slide a finger inside her to give her what she wants.
“Oh my god,” she moans. “Yes.”
I add a second digit and pull back so I can watch her. Her eyes roll to a close and her lips part.
Fuck. I can’t wait to see those wrap around my cock. To watch it disappear in her warm mouth and see her eyes water every single time the tip hits the back of her throat.
The image brings me two seconds away from coming in my shorts, as if I’ve never had my dick touched before.
“Dutton.” My name is breathless as her hips move faster with my hand.
“Are you going to come for me, Books?”
She nods quickly.
“Good.”
I keep up my movements, allowing my thumb to brush against her clit. I make one circle, then two, and that’s all it takes before her pussy is squeezing my fingers like life depends on it.
“Oh my god, fuck,” she purrs. Her eyes spring open, and she bites her lip. I grunt, resting my forehead against hers, and come in my shorts like it’s my first time.
Her pants as she comes down from her high don’t help my situation.
I swear, if she reached her hand past my waistband and touched me, I’d be ready to go again.
When I think she’s safe to stand on her own, I slowly lower her leg and step back.
Her lips are pressed together to avoid a smile, but her eyes never leave mine.
“I’ll get my shirt later,” I tell her and rake my eyes over her.
Fuck. I don’t want to leave, but she has to get to work, and I won’t keep her from that.
“Okay.” She sidesteps to the entryway and moves toward the stairs. “I’ll see you later?”
“You can count on it.”
She nods with a grin and heads up her stairs and out of view.
I take a breath and gather my stuff from her living room.
I let myself out the front door, double-checking that the door is locked before I get into my truck and drive home to get ready for the day.
I’m not going to let myself dwell too much on what just happened, because it was fucking great.
But I am aware that starting something more than friends with Brooke is complicated, and it’s clear that she has concerns.
Eventually, we’ll have to talk about it, but for right now, I’m just … happy.
And it’s been way too fucking long since I felt that.
“Are you whistling?”
Gavin’s voice fills the room. I pause mid-step in the lobby. Just before checkout is the slower part of the morning, so his words echo off the quiet space.
I glance at my brother and then to the receptionist desk, where three employees are watching me, clearly waiting for my answer.
Normally, their interest in my personal life would annoy me, but I’m in a good mood right now and willing to overlook it.
I open my mouth to answer Gavin, when I notice that his shirt is unbuttoned and he’s sweating more than usual.
“How is the temperature in the place still an issue?” I snap. I know it’s not his fault, but fuck all, I’m over this problem.
Hands on his hips, he glares at me.
“Because it’s not, and I'm at a loss on where to go from here.”
The defeat in his tone gets to me.
“What have they told you is the issue so far?”
“That’s the thing,” he says. “It seems to be more of a user error than the actual equipment.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means, there is a good chance someone keeps fucking with it and breaking it.”
“What?” I ask. We have employees all over; there’s no way someone is doing this and not being seen. “How do you figure that?”
“Well, this last episode was because someone broke off the damn button, making it impossible for me to adjust the temperature. Then, I had to wait for the replacement part to come in. Tyler is in there now, reinstalling and wiring it.”
“Who the hell would do that?”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, the answer comes to me. I wave for him to follow me, and as soon as we are in my office I turn to face him.
“It’s Henry,” I say before Gavin can even begin to think of an answer. “I know it is.”
“Dutton, come on. It’s not Dad.”
“It is. This is 100 percent something he would do to test us.”
“Who is being tested?” Grace says, waltzing into my office, fanning herself with the clipboard in her hand.
“Dutton thinks Dad keeps messing with the temperature to test us.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he doesn't think any of us are capable of running this place,” I add quickly.
Gavin groans while Grace rolls her eyes.
“Just because you and Dad have a feud that never quits doesn't mean he’d do this.”
“Trust me on this one.”
“That’s like saying Dad doesn't have the lodge's best interest in mind. This has been like a month-long issue—Dad wouldn't want rumors spread about this place not being able to control something as simple as the temperature.”
Yeah, well, it seems Dad doesn't care as much about reputation as you think.
Of course, I don’t say that out loud.
“I don’t know, but I just think you two need to consider that it could be him,” I say. “ Gavin, who has access to that room?”
“The three of us, head of maintenance, and Dad.”
My eyes widen in a “told you so” way.
“I’m going to say this once, Dutton, but if you really want to be the one who runs this place, you need to fix whatever is going on with Dad,” he says.
I let out a sarcastic huff of a laugh.
“I agree with Gavin.” Grace sighs. “As much as I want this place, I’d be happier if this thing between you and Dad didn’t exist.”
“I hear you,” I say and wake up my computer. “But it’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?” Grace pushes.
“Because it won’t.”
“You’re not even going to try?” Gavin asks.
“I did once. It didn’t work.”
“You did?” Grace asks, her tone switching from encouraging to sadness like a light switch. “When?”
“When it started,” I say and then sigh. “Look, I just … maybe we can change the lock on the door and give everyone a different code. Then, when things break, we can look back to see who was the last person in that room.”
It’s about the only idea I can think of. For their sake, I hope it’s not Henry, but something tells me it is.
I just have no idea what he’d be trying to accomplish with fucking up the temperature every single day.
“That’s not the worst idea,” Grace says.
Gavin nods. “All right. I’ll get it going, but what happens when it’s not Dad?”
“Then it’s not and I was wrong.”
“Okay,” Gavin replies, as if he’s tired of this conversation.
He leaves, and Grace turns to follow.
I don’t have to look away from my computer to know she’s lingering in the doorway.
She has more to say.
But by the time I look up, she's gone.
Fuck.
I lean back in my seat.
The last thing I want to do is fight with my siblings. Especially over Henry.
I reach for my phone to text them an apology, but my phone lights up with a text from my mother in the family group chat, which we rarely use unless it’s something that requires the attention of our entire family.
Mom
Wren will be home in two weeks to celebrate her birthday. I’d like for us all to be available that Saturday night. Please keep your schedule open.
This text isn’t for me or Gavin or Grace. It’s for her husband. Only I’m the only one who knows that.
It’s a great reminder of what a relationship should never look like.
A great reminder that, no matter how much you love someone, it’s not always happiness in the end.
A great reminder that Brooke might have been right to not let me kiss her.
I scrub a hand down my face, but what if it could be different with her?
What if she came into my life for a reason?
My phone buzzes again.
Henry
I’ve added it to my schedule.
Asshole.