Detour: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 1)

by A. Marie

  “Where have you been?”

  Him breathing me in like a man drowning makes everything else fade away.

  “Um, dinner?”

  Pulling back, Coty licks his bottom lip, his eyes roaming over mine like he just remembered how hungry he is.

  I close my eyes, counting to ten. I get to two when I feel Coty step between my legs. I raise onto my tiptoes preventing additional contact. He doesn’t bother hiding his frustration, letting out a low rumble deep in his chest.

  “I missed you.”

  “It’s been two days.” Before he can argue, I steer us back on track. “Are we doing this? I thought I was cleaning your hand.”

  Still eyeing me—rather hungrily might I add—he reluctantly nods, and sits on the closed toilet lid, holding his hand out for me to take. Careful to hold it from the bottom, I run water over the top, watching as the blood washes away. I squirt some soap from a repurposed whiskey dispenser and wash his knuckles gently but thoroughly. Coty, taking pulls from the vodka bottle, doesn’t miss a second, watching every move I make. I shift the water to cold, hoping to combat both Coty’s swelling and my own heated thoughts.

  Finished, I gently blot dry his hand with a towel.

  “I don’t see any cuts.” I’m almost positive it was all Jason’s blood. “Does it hurt?”

  He simply nods.

  “Where?”

  Using his good hand, he crooks a finger at me.

  After a hesitant step, I halt, unsure. Unsure if this falls under ‘light and easy’. Unsure if I even care.

  Coty’s hooded eyes travel my body head to toe and back again, leaving a storm brewing the more he explores. When he makes it back to my eyes, he nods his head, beckoning me closer. I don’t move.

  He tips the bottle back for another drink and I snag the bottle next. I take a sip, cringe, and place it on the counter. I step around Coty’s legs in a standing straddle. His head tilts back, watching me closely, and drags his now dry hand up the back of my thigh. Never once breaking eye contact, he settles it right below my ass cheek, then does the same with his other hand. He pulls me forward, bringing his face in line with my chest.

  My hand comes up to play with his hair. The areas that were sweaty from the fight have dried, making his dark brown hair soft but wild. He’s wearing a black V-neck that’s tight over his still-taut muscles. His jeans are slung low over his hips and tucked haphazardly into black boots. The bathroom is filled with his spicy coconut smell but it’s been muddled from the party raging just outside the door.

  Remembering why I’m here in the first place, I grip the strands, angling his head to the side. Coty lets out a low growl as I bring my face in close to his.

  “Why are you fighting your friends?”

  Coty remains quiet, looking between my eyes. Just when I think he won’t answer, I relax my hold to straighten, but Coty has a different idea—one he doesn’t bother running by me first. Suddenly, he lifts me up by the backs of my thighs and my arms reach around the back of his neck so I don’t face-plant into his head. Placing me on his lap, he runs his hands down my legs until he hits behind my knees, then drags me forward. It’s erotic and sweet and makes me want to run far, far away, however, I stay put. For now.

  Pleased with our new position, Coty snatches the vodka up again. After taking his own swig, he lifts the bottle to my lips. I hesitate briefly before opening my mouth for a drink, too.

  Full of liquid courage, he says, “They can’t have you.”

  “Neither can you,” I counter, just as bold, maybe even bolder. I don’t drink often, so the vodka’s hitting harder than I’d like to admit.

  “Why not?”

  Leaning in, my lips graze his ear. His hiss makes me smile.

  “I’m not yours.” I pull back, meeting his eyes. “It’s better that I’m not.”

  “For who?” His grip on my thighs tightens.

  I stare, willing him to see the truth but terrified of what he might discover.

  “Everybody,” I answer honestly, my arms falling from his neck.

  Coty hauls my ass forward, placing me directly on top of his erection, saying, “Bullshit.”

  A small gasp tumbles from my lips.

  God. Damn.

  The ache that started moments ago is fully raging now, begging to be soothed.

  Before I can shamelessly grind on the guy, someone knocks on the door, snapping me out of my lust induced stupor.

  “Fuck off!” Coty growls.

  “I need to go,” I sigh, slowly getting to my feet.

  Coty lets me, but follows suit, staying close.

  Inspecting my appearance in the mirror, Coty steps up behind me—he’s not a fan of personal space that one—and says, “Sunday.”

  My brain, working slower with the hormone and alcohol tornado swirling about, is struggling to keep up.

  “Riding. Let’s go this Sunday. Not with the guys either, just you and me.”

  He watches himself graze my lower back with deft fingers. I suck in my breath when his hand begins the trail up my backbone only he can blaze. My thighs clench together as I attempt—in vain—to smother the throb that’s pulsing to the same beat outside, I swear.

  “I have to work,” I manage to croak out.

  Not missing a beat, he says, “I’ll wait.”

  My response gets lost in the haze Coty’s hands are creating as he continues paying special attention to his favorite spot—my spine. Gripping the bathroom countertop, I close my eyes and drop my head, letting out a defeated, and embarrassing, moan.

  “Coty.”

  He sweeps my hair to the side before lowering his mouth to the skin there. A murmured, “hmm,” the only noise I can make out over my heavy breathing. Kisses on the back of my neck have my knees slamming into the cabinet as my legs try to buckle.

  Coty encircles a hand around my front, holding me up by my quivering stomach.

  “Coty?” I pant out, more desperate. Desperate for what? I don’t know.

  My knuckles, now white, cling to the edge—of both the counter and my sanity—while my legs shake uncontrollably.

  Coty’s tongue swirls lightly before closing his lips over the skin, sucking roughly. Watching him make out with my neck, I arch my back, pressing him where I really, really want him.

  He releases my skin gently, almost reluctantly, to meet my eyes in the mirror again.

  “What do you need, babe?” he breathes out, pained. Ever so slowly, without looking away, he leans back down, sinks his teeth into my shoulder then closes his eyes, savoring the taste. Sucking away the pleasant pain elicits loud moans from both of us. My clothes suddenly feel too restrictive. Why the fuck am I wearing pants today of all days?

  My palm slams against the hard surface, wishing he’d give another place that same attention. Coty’s mouth is the single best thing I’ve ever experienced and the rest of my body is dying to test his skills. As much as my body is screaming at me to turn around and see what else Coty can do with those lips, my overactive mind is objecting just as loud.

  “Could you, uh, give me some room?” The words physically pain me but need to be said all the same.

  Instantly, two tortured eyes snap open. Before pulling back, he kisses the red spot marking my skin with closed lips, then spins me to face him. Unfortunately, my body has turned to jelly and I blatantly sag against him. We’re both breathing heavy but some color’s seeping back into Coty’s near midnight eyes.

  His lips turn up into a sinful grin as his hands clasp the counter, caging me in. “Are you sleeping over?”

  Hands on his chest, I push him back, gaining some much-needed air.

  “I warned you about things getting messy.”

  “Life is messy. I can take it.” He pops his shoulder up, completely unconcerned.

  Although he makes a valid point, he’s also been drinking and he’s horny. He’d say anything right now to get laid.

  I open the door, stepping into the party. Coty stays a step behind me as I m
ake my way down their hallway. Beckett has a girl, a different one than earlier, pressed against his bedroom door with one leg wrapped around his waist. He detaches from her face, seriously that looks intense, and smiles lazily over at us.

  “Neighbor girl,” he teases. “Did you play nurse in there or what? I bet you fixed Coty up real good.” His cackling laugh jostles his guest, causing her to glare my way.

  I tsk, “Don’t be jealous. Looks like you’ve got someone taking care of you already.”

  Coty wraps his hand around my middle possessively and barks, “Close the door, jackass.” This only spurs Beckett on further which almost knocks both him and the girl clear over.

  He murmurs something about needing to find himself a nurse before resuming his extreme make-out session.

  Grimacing, I continue into the living room to find Coty’s other roommate with a girl on his lap and another at his side, both peppering him with kisses. Marc looks up to Coty briefly.

  Those boys have their fun lined up for the night. The thought that Coty might still find his has me bristling as I reach for the door handle.

  Past the threshold, I say, “It looks like you guys have your hands all full. Have fun with that.”

  Coty’s eyebrows furrow. “What does that mean?”

  “Your roommates are taken care of for tonight. You better get back in there so you’re not left out.”

  I hate the bite to my words revealing the jealousy that’s sunk its claws into me, refusing to let up.

  Coty breaks into a knowing smile and leans back, shouting, “Party’s over! If your face, or any other part of your body, isn’t attached to Beck or Marc, get out.”

  Groans erupt but people begin filing out just the same. My mouth opens and closes like a stupid fish in what I’m sure is a very impressive parting gift for the guests as they pass.

  “’Night, neighbor girl. See you Sunday,” the sexy jerk says before winking.

  I lift a hand stiffly, then flee into my studio.

  Coty’s proving to be a more worthy counterpart than I originally thought. Why does he have to live next door though?

  CHAPTER 19

  Angela

  An overtly annoying ringtone, my annoying ringtone, wakes me the next morning. Last night took a toll on my lightweight head. I grab my phone off the small bedside table, wincing at the pain the small movement causes. Seeing another UNKNOWN caller, I curse. A press of a button and the device goes gloriously silent.

  Just as my eyelids start to grow heavy, an insistent knocking startles me. It’s unlike any other knocking I’ve ever heard. It sounds like it’s from a song actually. A Britney Spears’ song to be exact, circa 2000-and-late.

  Grumbling across the room, I throw open the door only to find a takeout bag held up in front of my face.

  I snatch it out of the abnormally large hand holding it and scowl.

  “Stop bringing me food.” On my way back to bed, I toss the bag on the counter, mumbling, “I can buy my own breakfast,” then fall face first onto the sheets I kicked off last night. I was overheated after the bathroom incident and couldn’t handle anything touching my skin. Anything other than Coty’s hands that is. Or mouth.

  I can’t hide the smirk playing at my lips as I turn my head to the side, watching Beckett as he follows.

  “Hey,” he says, offended, grabbing the bag back. He pulls out a sugary doughnut, then proceeds to eat the whole thing in two bites. Mouth smacking obnoxiously, his eyes scan my studio. The couple steps it takes him and his massive legs to reach my bed is about how long it takes to check out my apartment so it works out perfectly.

  I glance over his freshly showered appearance as he sits against my headboard beside me. He’s dressed for work in dark blue mechanic pants and a stained white shirt with holes scattered throughout.

  “How are you feelin’ today?” I ask, breaking the awkward silence. “I would’ve thought you’d still be in bed.” I try to wiggle my eyebrows but one is smashed against the bed so I give up, letting my suggestive tone do the heavy hinting instead.

  “Ha! I don’t let chicks stay over. They can play all they want but they gotta leave me never wanting more. Of anything,” he adds, using his own indicative tone.

  No suggestion needed, I scold, “You’re a pig.”

  Mock horror covering his face, he scoots down to tickle me. Within an embarrassing amount of time, I’m laughing to the point of tears and screaming, “mercy,” but the jerk shows none. Beckett continues his ruthless attack, so bringing my foot up between us, I kick him square in the stomach with all my strength. Wide eyed, he falls off the bed with a giant thud. Wiping my eyes, I poke my head over the side, nervous he might’ve left a Beckett-sized hole in my floor when he fell through to the apartment below. That would totally kill my chance of getting my deposit back. Fortunately, I find him lying on his back with his hands folded over his chest.

  “Marry me.”

  I roll my eyes and drop a pillow on his face.

  “You’re feisty.” He shakes the pillow off as he stands, climbing next to me again. “I figured you were but damn, Coty’s got his work cut out for him.”

  “Coty doesn’t have shit.”

  Beckett just looks me in the eye before saying, “Uh huh.”

  Him flopping onto his back makes the whole bed bounce and I grab the headboard to keep from flying off. On my back, we lie side by side, staring up at the ceiling in companionable silence.

  A few minutes pass before he rolls his head to look at me and I do the same.

  “You like him?”

  “Who?”

  He frowns.

  “It’s,” I start, then turn my head, facing the ceiling again. I don’t want him to see the truth. I don’t want any of them to. “Complicated. He can look, I might even let him touch, but that’s where it has to end.”

  “Parents do a number on you, too, huh?”

  I look at Beckett again. He’s having a rare serious moment and I don’t want to miss it, but it’s his turn to hide.

  Face to the sky, he says, “I get it. My mom took off a long time ago. It was just me and my dad after that.”

  “He didn’t remarry?” I ask quietly.

  “No. I think we both thought she would come back to us. Hoped she would anyway.”

  “Did she?”

  “Nope. Not once. Not even when things got really bad.” His eyes close and I give him the time he obviously needs. Finally, he opens them. “No, she never showed. Left one day with some dude she’d been sneaking around with and never came back.”

  Without thought, I reach over to grab his hand.

  “You know that has nothing to do with you though, right? That’s her issue.”

  “Is that what you tell yourself?”

  I sigh. “Yes…and no. I would’ve preferred my mom leave me honestly.”

  “Don’t say that. You don’t know what it’s like to only have one parent. One that’s running at half-speed while the world rushes past them.”

  I can’t help but smirk. “Don’t I? You have no idea what I’ve dealt with. You don’t get close to girls because you’re scared of getting hurt again. I know I’ll be hurt again. Things don’t come easy for me in this life. No one can change the shitty hand I’ve been dealt but me.”

  His blue eyes find mine.

  “Does that usually work for you?”

  “What?” I snap, growing more irritated by the second.

  “Pushing people away before even giving them a chance.”

  I glance down at the steady rhythm of his chest. “Yes.”

  “I can tell.” He slides his hand out of mine. “But you should know Coty’s in. He’s all in. I’ve known him for a long time now and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s had girlfriends over the years but he’s never been this irrational over them. Hell, he’s so jealous, he doesn’t even want me talking to you.” He scoffs.

  “Then why are you here? I doubt he’d like you being in my bed.”

  “’Cause I
know you wouldn’t let me try anything if I wanted to.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “Do you? Want to?”

  He takes his time looking over my face then down the rest of my body before making it back to my eyes.

  He shrugs noncommittally.

  “Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot. Like I can’t believe we get to watch you parade around in a swimsuit and not get called perverts ‘cause it’s in our backyard and we can’t help but appreciate our amazing view.” I smack his arm which only makes him smile wider.

  “I don’t parade around. And you’re still a pervert.”

  “Agree to disagree.” He shoots me a wink. “Anyway, even if I wanted to make a move, I wouldn’t ‘cause Coty is hooked and I’d never do that to my boy. I’m badass like that.”

  “He’s not hooked. He’s bored to death with the sausage fest you three have going across the hall and thinks I can give him some entertainment for a while. He’ll lose interest soon enough.”

  “Have you seen him when you come around?” he asks incredulously.

  “Yeah, he acts like a caveman that wants his way. He’ll tire when he learns he’s never going to get it though.”

  “Oh, Angie,” he pats my head, “you have a lot to learn. Coty isn’t looking to hit it and quit it. Dude’s got feelings for you. How else do I need to say it? He likes you, okay? He doesn’t sleep around like…” His eyes dart around, avoiding my gaze. “Marc.” He ignores the choking sound coming from my throat. Glass houses… “If you really don’t want to be with him, then you need to tell him, like today. That boy is one hand job short of being whipped.”

  “Are you done yet? Not only did you rudely wake me up but now I’m being lectured by the biggest pig in wolf’s clothing I know. Worst Saturday morning ever,” I grumble.

  “Man, your mom really did fuck you up if you don’t even know your fairy tales.”

  I flip him my middle finger with my eyes closed which is why I don’t see the pillow coming until it smacks me square in the face.