Chapter 8 #2
I stare at the message, thumb hovering over send. My chest’s tight enough to crack. I almost delete it again, but something in me snaps, the same reckless part that’s been pushing at this line for years.
I hit send.
The message hangs there on the screen, a blue bubble glowing against the dark.
I lean back, exhale slow. Half of me hopes she’s still at the office, buried in work, too busy to see it. The other half hopes she’s home, sees my name pop up, and decides not to answer just to make me sweat.
Either way, I get to pretend it doesn’t matter.
I take another drink, finishing the beer and staring out at the horizon. Priscilla and Rosa move through the field, tails flicking, slow silhouettes in the fading light. I tell myself to relax.
But the truth is, I’m wired tight as a live wire. Waiting for a damn text. So I make good on my promise to cook and fire up the grill before heading back inside to grab the steaks from the fridge and another beer to calm my nerves.
The kitchen’s quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the tick of the old wall clock.
I’ve got the steaks on the counter, seasoning half-done, beer sweating beside me.
My phone is face down near the sink. I tell myself not to look, but as if it could read my mind, it vibrates loudly on the counter.
When I flip it over, the screen lights up with a response from her.
Adrienne: Come outside.
I blink, heart jumping once. Before I can even process, another message slides in.
Adrienne: Now.
I stare at the words, pulse hammering in my throat. She’s here already? The towel hits the counter. I grab my beer and head for the door, boots heavy on the hardwood. The screen slams behind me as I step onto the porch.
There she is.
Her BMW was pulled halfway up the drive, parked crooked like she didn’t care.
She’s sitting on the hood, one long leg crossed over the other, dress hitched just high enough to immediately grab my attention.
The same black dress from this morning, sexy, tight, sinful.
Heels still on, reflecting the porch light with every small shift of her ankle.
She looks up when she hears the door, but doesn’t move. Just watches me. My body reacts before my brain catches up, blood rushing south, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
I take the steps slowly, beer dangling from my fingers, eyes locked on her. The gravel crunches beneath my boots, loud in the quiet.
“Guess that means you got my message,” I say.
She tilts her head, that slow, knowing smirk curving her mouth. “Guess that means dinner’s on you.”
That tone. Soft. Teasing… Tempting. Designed to crawl right under my skin, and it's working.
I stop a few feet from her, the space between us already tight with heat. I smell her lingering perfume again, and all I can think about is how bad I want to get her out of that dress.
“You always show up to a man’s job dressed like that just to fuck with him?” I ask, voice low.
“You liked it,” she counters, eyes dragging down my chest. “You enjoy being teased. Don’t you?”
I let out a rough laugh, shaking my head. I don’t know how she does it, but she throws me off kilter every damn time she opens her mouth. Her confidence, cocky or not, is hot as hell. “You’re something else, you know that?”
Her gaze lifts back to mine, slow and deliberate. “I do know that. I also know that you like that about me.”
She’s right.
For a moment, neither of us moves. The air hums between us, thick and heavy. The sun’s gone, the sky gone deep blue, and the only light left is the soft glow from the porch washing over her legs.
“Inside,” I say finally, the word coming out more of a command than an invitation. She uncrosses her legs, my eyes dropping to look at them as she stands. The move is slow, intentional.
When she reaches me, she stops for a brief second to press her palm flat against my chest, her hand warm through the thin cotton of my shirt. My heart slams against her touch.
“Yes, sir,” she murmurs.
Her fingers drag down the length of my chest, slow enough to leave a burn. Her fingers snake around mine, grabbing the bottle of beer from my hand before she steps around me.
The brush of her body as she passes makes me shiver. She doesn’t wait for me to follow. Just climbs the steps, hips swaying like she knows damn well I’m watching.
By the time I move, she’s already at the door, fingers curling around the handle.
She glances back once, just enough to make sure I see the smirk on her lips.
And then she pushes the door open and disappears inside.
I stand there for a second, every muscle tight as I think through what I’m about to do.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, smiling like a man walking straight into the fire. Then I follow her inside.
The second the door shuts, the air changes. She’s holding the beer she took from me, lips curved in that teasing way that always means trouble. I take it from her hand, set it on the counter with a quiet thud, and step into her space until she’s trapped between me and the edge.
“You think I didn’t see what you were doing today?” I ask, voice low, already rough with desire. “Walking into my shop dressed like that. Tight little dress, heels clicking across the concrete, pretending you didn’t notice me watching you.”
Her pulse flutters in her throat, and I reach up to drag my thumb across it. “Maybe I just wanted to look nice.”
I laugh once, dark and humorless. “No, Adrienne. You wanted to drive me insane. And it worked.”
I hook a finger under her chin, tilt her face up until our mouths are a breath apart.
“You bent over that damn desk, thrusting that tight ass in the air, knowing I couldn’t touch you.
You walked out like nothing happened, leaving me standing there with a hard-on and a head full of things I wanted to do to you. ”
Her breath catches. I press closer, let her feel exactly what she’s done to me.
“You want to know what I was thinking while you strutted out?” I rasp, mouth grazing hers. “How easy it would be to pull you back inside, bend you over that desk, and make you say my name while I fucked you until you forgot how to act so damn smug.”
She gasps softly, fingers clutching my shirt. “You wouldn’t have.”
I smirk. “Sweetheart, you have no idea how close I was.”
I kiss her hard and deep, my tongue doing all sorts of filthy things to hers. She moans into my mouth, all the sass bleeding out as she melts against me. My hands are on her hips, pulling her against me. I’m lost in the feeling of her against me, the way her body feels against me.
“Careful,” I warn, pushing my thigh between hers, the friction making her gasp. “You start making a habit of teasing me like that, I’ll have you on your knees in front of me begging.”
Her breath hitches when my hands slide up her sides, thumbs brushing the swell of her breasts. She shivers, and it makes something primal uncoil in me, knowing she’s putty in my hands at the slightest touch.
“You’ve been baiting me for years, but today… Mmm.” My moan sounds like a growl. “Watching you walk away at the shop. Smiling at everybody but me. You wanted this.”
She tips her chin, defiant and flushed. “Maybe I wanted to see if you’d come and take it.”
I grip her jaw, force her eyes on mine. “I’m right here, sweetheart.” My voice drops to a growl. “And I’m going to take. Every. Fucking. Thing.”
She surprises the hell out of me when she pushes at my chest. Hard.
“But first,” she says with a coy smile, “I’m not done.”
She takes a step forward, eyes sharp and mouth swollen from my kisses, and grabs my shirt again like she’s testing boundaries. I let her guide me through the kitchen doorway, my back brushing the wall before we hit the living room.
Then she shoves me. The backs of my knees hit the couch, and I drop with a rough laugh. “You sure about this?”
“Not done teasing you yet,” she says, voice breathy with need already.
Before I can answer, she’s in my lap, straddling me.
That little black dress rides up her thighs, the thin scrap of fabric stretched across her pussy is no match for how hot her skin feels against mine.
Her heels dig into the cushions on either side of me, bracing herself while she starts to move.
A slow grind, deliberate, every roll of her hips sending a fresh curse through my teeth.
“Jesus,” I growl, gripping her hips hard enough to make her gasp. “You trying to kill me?”
She smiles, eyes glittering with mischief. “You said I was teasing you. Thought I’d try a little harder.”
Smartass. Beautiful, smug smartass.
I slide my hands up, palms tracing her waist, her ribs, up to her breasts. I squeeze through the dress, groaning when she arches into my touch. “I need this fucking dress off of you.”
“Patience,” she whispers before sliding her tongue into my mouth as she grinds down harder against my cock.
“Oh fuck, Jesus.” I pant. “You keep teasing, I’m going to forget I promised myself to take my time.”
Her answer is a low laugh that dies in my mouth when she leans forward to kiss me again, slow this time, messy and deep. I groan against her mouth when her tongue slides against mine; I feel it all the way to my damn toes.
Then she changes it up, grabbing both of my wrists and pinning them over my head against the back of the couch. Her hair falling forward, brushing my face, her eyes daring me to move.
“Now who’s in control?” she whispers, grinding harder, her breath catching when my cock presses exactly where she wants it.
I let her play. Let her think she’s winning. My muscles tighten beneath her grip, my pulse hammering. Watching her come undone above me, her dress riding up, cheeks flushed, lips parted… It’s almost better than taking over.
Almost.
I shift my hips beneath her, just enough to make her moan. “Careful, sweetheart,” I murmur against her neck. “You’re about ten seconds from finding out what happens when I decide it’s my turn again.”