Chapter 38 Sawyer
THIRTY-EIGHT
Sawyer
Mhm. And now some guy named Jake is trying to hit on me and you aren’t here to save me :(
Where are you?
Sorry, Rachel stole my phone. That wasn’t me.
Ellie. Where are you?
I’m out
Out where?
Ellie, don’t play with me.
Why? You jealous?
You’re my girlfriend. Of course I’m jealous if some dude named Jake is trying to hit on you.
You know, I might consider dropping the fake part for tonight
You won’t be able to unless you tell me where the fuck you are.
Fine. We’re at Nova’s, new little nightclub downtown
I’m coming.
I shouldn’t have come.
I’d told myself that twice in the car, once more while I sat in the parking lot gripping the steering wheel so hard, my knuckles burned, and then again in the elevator, breathing through the kind of jealousy that didn’t simmer—it fucking boiled.
I pushed through a sea of sweaty finance bros and girls covered in rhinestones to find my girl.
Neon lights pulsed overhead. Someone bumped into me and muttered something—didn’t hear it, didn’t give a single fuck.
Nothing existed except the singular, brutal need to find her.
My eyes were locked on the table near the back, where Ellie sat like a goddamn flame in a room full of moths.
She was curled up with her legs tucked beneath her, drink in one hand, phone in the other. She was glowing like a goddamn spotlight in a short black dress that clung to her curves as if it had been stitched in place—bare shoulders, too much leg, not nearly enough sense.
Rachel was next to her, equally loud, equally drunk. I got closer and slowed. She hadn’t seen me yet, so I stood there, watching her talk to some dickhead with a mustache, leaning way too close for a girl with a boyfriend.
He wasn’t touching her, not yet, but he was close enough, whispering something that made her laugh.
I didn’t know if I wanted to fight him or fuck her. Maybe both.
Definitely both.
Rachel spotted me first. “Oh shit,” she cackled, tapping Ellie’s thigh. “Daddy’s here.”
Ellie blinked up at me like I’d crawled out of a hallucination. “Sawyer?”
I kept my tone even.
“Ellie baby,” I said, the nickname sliding off my tongue.
Rachel grinned. “I think he came to claim what’s his.”
Damn right, I had.
My jaw clenched as I scanned the guys around her. “Which one of you fuckers is Jake?”
Ellie blinked. “Who?”
“Jake,” I repeated. “The one who tried to hit on you. Where is he?”
Some idiot raised his hand. “Uh…I think all of us tried, my dude. I mean, look at her.”
Wrong fucking answer.
“You’ve got three seconds to leave before I knock your teeth in.”
“Whoa, chill, man.”
“Three.”
“Shit, okay, okay.”
“Two.”
They scattered like roaches.
Ellie shrugged, unbothered. “What are you doing here?” She laughed—fucking laughed—like I was the ridiculous one. It only made the jealousy twist deeper. “I’m just having fun. I don’t even know who Jake is.”
“Don’t care. He looked at you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not yours, Sawyer.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Rachel choked on a laugh.
Ellie smirked lazily. “Didn’t realize I needed your permission to exist in public.”
I hovered over her, caging her in with my hands on either side of her head. “You didn’t need to text me either, but you did.”
Her smirk flickered, and she slouched back into the chair, swirling the melting ice in her glass. “I was drunk.”
“Still are, by the looks of it, baby girl.”
Rachel held up her hands. “Love this energy. Just go home with him. He looks like he’s one second from throwing a chair.”
Ellie lifted her drink defiantly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m having fun.”
“You’re infuriating,” I said.
She licked her lips. “Maybe I like making you mad.”
That was it. I didn’t think. I bent down, grabbed her waist, and tossed her over my shoulder.
I nodded over to where I saw Ben on watch nearby. “I got her tonight, sir.”
He nodded in response.
“Sawyer!” she shrieked, kicking heels against my chest. “Put me down!”
“Nope,” I grunted, pushing through the crowd. “You’ve had enough fun.”
Heads turned. Phones were out. I didn’t care. Let them watch.
Rachel howled behind us. “If you don’t bang him tonight, I will!”
“Rach!” Ellie yelled.
“You’re welcome, big man!” Rachel shouted as we made our way out.
Without looking back, I waved at Rachel but kept walking. I didn’t stop until we reached the elevator.
Inside, I set her down, my hands lingering on her waist longer than necessary. She swayed, drunk and flushed and so goddamn gorgeous, I couldn’t breathe.
She rounded on me with her pink cheeks and wild eyes. “What the fuck was that?”
I flexed my hands, trying to breathe through my frustration. “This is fun? Being wrapped up in a crowd of guys who want to fuck you?”
She lifted her chin. “Maybe I like the attention. Besides…you’re no different.”
“You know? You’re right, Ellie,” I snarled, pressing her against the wall. “Maybe I am no better than those guys, but they don’t want you the way I do. They want a story they can brag about over bourbon at their next goddamn tee time.”
I dipped my head, lips grazing the shell of her ear.
“But me?” My hand slid down her waist, fingers flexing just enough to coax a gasp from her lips.
“I want you. All of you.” I dragged my mouth down her jaw as I spoke.
“I don’t want the version they fantasize about—the pretty, untouchable image they’ve made up in their heads.
I want Ellie. Not the fantasy. Not the image.
You. The woman who’s scared shitless to let anyone in.
The one who’s so real, I lose my damn mind. ”
“Oh,” she whispered.
I inched back and tilted her chin toward me. “I want the part of you that stops pretending you don’t feel this. The part that wants me just as bad.”
Our breaths tangled in the space between us, hers shaky, mine already uneven.
“So maybe I’m just like them, because yeah, I do want to fuck you. God, I really want to fuck you, but not for a story.”
“I hate you,” she said.
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re just jealous,” she rasped.
“Damn right I am,” I growled. “I show up after you text me and find you laughing with some guy like he had a fucking chance—”
“He didn’t,” she snapped. “You think I want some fanboy with a spray tan? I don’t!”
I stepped back. “Then what do you want?”
She blinked up at me, breathless and off-balance, gorgeous in all the ways that undid me.
“You.”
That word hit me harder than any tackle I’d ever taken. “You literally just told me you hated me.”
“Ugh, shut up. You’re so hot, and you’re so nice, and I don’t want to think right now.” Her hands pressed to my chest, sliding up slowly. Her eyes dropped to my mouth, voice low. “Stop thinking, just for a second.”
Her lips hovered over mine, and fuck, I wanted to give in. Every inch of me ached to take her, to drown in her. Instead, I gripped the back of her neck, gently but firmly, holding her in place.
Because she’d already pushed me away twice.
“You’re drunk,” I whispered. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I’m fine,” she breathed, desperation creeping into her voice. “I know what I want.”
I shook my head slowly, forehead resting against hers. “No, you think you do, but you don’t. You’re tipsy, pissed off, and trying not to feel again.”
Her expression faltered. “I won’t.”
I cupped her cheek as my thumb brushed across her mouth. “You want me?” I murmured. “Then want me sober. Want me when you remember exactly what you’re asking for.”
Her eyes searched mine.
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open, and she stepped out, heels clicking on the pavement, her head held high. I stood there, choking down the yes I so desperately wanted to give her.