Detour: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 1)

by A. Marie

  I break away on a gasp. “Coty, we’re on a bike. What if we fall?”

  He nips at my lips, calmly. “I won’t let you fall.” And the way he says it, I want to believe him.

  Then, like the last thirty seconds never happened, Coty’s mouth is back on mine, chasing away any remaining apprehension. Our mouths continue to make love as his hands grip my hips, bringing me forward until his impressive erection rubs my center in a frustratingly erotic motion. Coty’s lips wreak havoc on my mouth while his body creates utter mayhem for mine. I never stood a chance. His skills outrank mine greatly and I’m happy to let him take the lead. For now, anyway.

  The ride here was the foreplay leading up to this moment. It’s been building for weeks, if I’m being honest, since the moment our eyes connected really. The attraction being too great, too strong, it’s damn near consumed me.

  Both of us teeming with sexual tension, neither comes up for air as we pour our desire into the other. My lips match his. His tongue chases mine. When his teeth join the competition, I almost surrender on the spot. As Coty slides his hands further into my hair, his grip tightens, pulling slightly. My head bends backward trying to overcompensate but Coty’s mouth latches onto my bottom lip, ensuring I can’t go far. Teeth bared, he draws out my lip before closing his mouth and soothing the sting away completely. Being pulled in opposite directions makes for a luscious game of tug-of-war that’ll eventually end in victory. For me.

  A whimper escapes my tender lips as I bring my hand from his neck to his chin. Gripping it with my thumb and forefinger, I pull, forcing Coty to meet my mouth again.

  Naturally, our bodies recline together but before I hit the windshield, Coty’s hand shoots out to grip the glass acting as a cushion for my back. He leaves his other hand in my hair, helping to hold my head to his. As if there’s anywhere else I’d rather be. I wrap my arms around his neck, arching my back. On a growl, Coty breaks free of my mouth and tilting my head for better access, starts sucking hungry kisses down my neck. The motion of him rocking into me causes the bike to shift beneath us. With each thrust, the wheels roll forward. Only once he lets up, does the bike roll my pussy directly back to where she belongs—pressed against him. The repetitive friction is borderline torture—slow and sensual and just shy of giving me what I need. What we both want.

  I’m panting and groaning and losing my mind one touch at a time. When I’m fed up from being left on the side lines, I fist his hair, returning his face to mine. Ready to be back in the game, I lick his lips methodically, ratcheting up the heat factor a few more degrees.

  “Damn, babe. I’ve been dying to kiss you again.”

  A breathy laugh escapes me followed by the only response I can offer—my lips tell Coty what my head can’t, my tongue shows him what my heart never will, and my hands say what he’s dying to hear. Not a single word is spoken, yet he gets the message all the same. I’m here. I’m yours.

  For now.

  Still clutching his hair, I make my way down his jaw, nibbling as I go. Coty’s hand squeezes my hip roughly as he sucks in a breath. I drop one hand to explore his chest. I’ve seen him shirtless countless times but haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing it firsthand. Until now. My fingers venture over the grooves of his strained muscles. And they. Are. Everywhere. A hand under his shirt, I trail my nails up his firm abs while keeping up my feast on his neck.

  “Fuck. Angela, you’re killing me.”

  His rough voice, the only noise besides the tires crunching the loose gravel, reminds me of our surroundings.

  Close to his ear, I whisper, “Is this where you take all your dates?” The thought ran through my mind when we arrived and now I’m dying to know.

  Coty pushes to standing, leaving me to lie almost flat on my back. Using his free hand, he grasps my collarbone gently before grinding his cock into me not so gently. Our groans mix into one agonized sound of desire. My thin leggings, now drenched, are as good as gone. They tried their best, really, but Coty’s seduction proved too powerful for the stretchy cotton.

  He throws my previous question back in my face, asking, “Jealous?”

  Easy. “Yes.”

  He drops down and devours my mouth with his once more. My hands meet air as he pulls back sharply. “Good. I want you to feel what I feel.” He nips at my lips playfully. “I want you so jealous you can’t even see straight.” My bottom lip gets sucked between his. “I want you thinking about me when you’re in your bed, thinking about how much you want to sneak across the hall and into mine.” Voice too hoarse to continue, he seals his lips against mine, then pulls back again, causing me to whimper. He’s playing with his food while I’m eagerly waiting to be served. “Are you there yet, babe?”

  Lips against mine, his eyes implore me to answer. Unable to, I pause. I’m not sure if I can admit what he’s asking. Yes, the thought of Coty bringing another girl here makes my stomach cramp, bad, but do I have a right to covet something that’s not mine? Someone that’s not mine. Having to go without most times, I learned to deny that useless cloak of envy each time it was presented. Greed, resentment, jealousy, they never got me anywhere. Nowhere I wanted to be anyway. Avoidance became my greatest ally, my closest friend. A downright necessity at times. Of course I noticed what others had: happy families, loving parents, birthday cakes—the usual—but dwelling on the things I didn’t have was a waste of time.

  As for his other question though, while it’s true I have fantasized about having Coty in my bed, I think I’ll leave him wondering a little longer.

  Eyes still searching mine, Coty straightens.

  “Wait, wait, wait. Come back.” I pull at his shirt and he obliges, lowering. “What was the question again?”

  Mouth flattened, he stands out of reach a second time.

  “You fight dirty,” I accuse, placing my hands on his chest, still trying to cop a feel of his hardened muscles.

  The cold air has slipped between us, clearing my head of the hormone fog it’s been enveloped in since we left Creekwood.

  Coty’s near black eyes keep mine entranced as he drops down closer. When his lips are hovering just above mine, he whispers, “That’s ‘cause you’ve had me against the ropes since we met.”

  I sink my teeth into his bottom lip and, without breaking eye contact, rise with him. I watch with satisfaction as his eyes flare with renewed desire. Just before he can resume his own sweet torment, I release him and use his arms to dismount.

  Coty follows, albeit slower from needing to adjust himself, and takes my hand.

  And I allow it.

  For now.

  Hand-in-hand, we wander over to the edge of the cliff and gaze out at the cityscape before us. I watch, mesmerized, as a plane lands in the distance. I can’t help but notice how small it all seems.

  “How did you find this place?”

  Coty swings his head to me.

  “Are you sure you want to know?” He squeezes my hand, laughing lightly.

  I swear my lips scrunch on their own.

  Coty releases my hand, and slipping under the warm hoodie, his fingers trail my spine. I shiver from the skin-to-skin contact.

  I realize then that I couldn’t keep the guy off my backbone if I tried.

  He turns his head forward again. “No, I found it once on a solo ride. I come out here when I need space. Living with the others is cool but sometimes I need to get away. You know?”

  “The need to get away?” I can’t help the sneer in my words. “Yeah, I do know. With my childhood, getting away is a luxury you pray for daily. Moving out was me getting away. And staying away.” Dropping my gaze to my shoes, I quietly add, “Hopefully.”

  Coty’s hand stills. “Why do you say that?”

  Kicking a stray rock over the ledge, I listen for its descent before looking over to Coty whose sole focus is on me.

  “I just can’t go back to my mom’s. I won’t.”

  Something crosses his features but disappears before I can ask about it.
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  “Do you still see her?”

  “No. We…uh,” I huff out a breath, “have an agreement.” Of sorts. “When I moved out, we made a deal so she would leave me alone.”

  Coty’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “How’s that working out?”

  Turning back to the lit-up town, I tell him, “Not great. She’s up to her old tricks but nothing I can’t handle.”

  “What tricks are those exactly? Should I be worried?”

  My head snaps over to him and I almost choke from what I see there.

  I twist, making his hand fall from my shirt. Coty scowls.

  “My problems stay my problems. I promise they won’t make their way next door or to any of my other neighbors.”

  I throw my hands up, smirking ruefully.

  Rianne will never catch sight of Coty if I can help it. She has a knack for taking anything good, anything untainted, and twisting it into something ugly with her mental gauntlet. Battering it until nearly unrecognizable. Trying to make anyone feel as lonely and scared on the outside as she does on the inside. Sinking her claws into any fresh meat she can until their need for self-preservation eventually kicks in and they can escape. I refuse to let my mother’s manipulation reach Coty. Whatever he may be to me, he’ll never be hers to toy with.

  Coty catches me as I pass to the bike but I stand firm at arm’s length. “What happened? Where’d you go? You’re back to throwing this neighbor shit at me when we just…” A look over his shoulder, he says, “Angela-”

  “You do know you’re my neighbor, right? You and Beckett and Marc. You guys are just my neighbors.”

  “Bullshit,” Coty shoots back. “That didn’t feel very neighborly to me.” He jerks his thumb behind him.

  I, however, avoid looking at the bike at all costs. It’s too soon. Instead, I shrug him off. “Well, the others haven’t asked me to ride with them yet.”

  “And they won’t.”

  “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Arms over my chest, I cock an eyebrow with as much attitude as I can muster. “Because you called dibs?”

  “I didn’t have to, babe. They fucking know.”

  My arms fall to my sides and I bite out, “Know what?”

  In a flash, he’s there, grabbing my face between his hands. “That you’re mine.”

  “Coty, look-”

  “Don’t. Don’t try to deny it. I told you I’ll wait and I will, but you need to stop acting like this isn’t happening. Babe, you’re all I think about. Having you steps away every night and not being able to touch you is killing me. The thought of one of my boys touching you is enough to send me over the edge and do something I might regret. Do you get that?”

  “That you need anger management?”

  Smirking, he says, “God, you’ve got a smart mouth.” He leans down to place a soft kiss against said mouth. “I’d do anything for my boys, share anything with them, even my bike, just…not you.”

  Completely deflated, I gently press, “Why?”

  Gaze on my lips, he says, “You tell me.”

  “I moved in next to three single guys but won’t sleep with any of them, it’s the ultimate challenge. A chase too great to turn down. It’s not that hard to figure out. Anyone would want to beat the odds.” Through the ache in my chest, I whisper, “You’ll get over it.”

  “You’re right, you are challenging. But you’re so much more than that.” Bending, he gives me a lingering kiss that I greedily deepen before he pulls away, smiling. “But you’re wrong, too. I won’t get over it. You’re like a drug I can’t quit. Each hit filling a need but never enough to fully satisfy the want. That want is you, babe. I want you. And not just your body, which I’ll happily take anytime.” He winks cheekily when I frown. “But the rest of you. All of you. Everything.”

  My eyes scan his for a hint of what I’m sure I’ll find. An angle.

  “What do you mean?”

  He sighs and leans his forehead against mine. “I mean what I said, Angela. I want you. No games, no hidden agenda, just you.”

  Coty is asking for more than I’ve ever had, never mind what I’ve been able to give. Nights like tonight prove I can have some fun and let loose a little, but to hand over my heart and trust him to care for it the way nobody ever has? I just don’t know if that’s in the cards for me. If it’ll ever be in my grasp.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Coty’s tongue sneaks between my lips and I moan.

  “Why are you pushing this? What if something bad happens? We live next door.”

  His thumb pulls my bottom lip down. “It won’t. If it does-“

  I shake his thumb off. “If it does, I’ll have to move. You guys outnumber me. Do you really not see the position you’re putting me in here?”

  “I’ve been thinking about a lot of positions to put you in.”

  Both hands braced on his chest, I push with all my might, making him barely take a step back.

  “See? I knew you were a perv.”

  “Can you blame me? You show up looking like a skater version of the girl next door rocking a slippery attitude and a string bikini and you think I’m not gonna fantasize about you? Sorry, babe, but any man in his right mind would.”

  Didn’t I just say that? Ugh, men. “Here I thought you were sweet.” I roll my eyes, grabbing Beckett’s borrowed helmet while Coty puts his own on.

  “I’ll be anything you want me to be, as long as you say you’re mine.” He then leans his helmet to mine, waiting for me to close the distance. Always letting me choose.

  It’s clear I have a lot to think about but he’s right. There’s nothing neighborly about us except our addresses. Coty’s hot, sweet, patient, and drives me wild in the best of ways. All I can do is try to hold him off while I figure out how to slip a life vest over my head without him taking offense. Contrary to Coty’s naivete, there will come a time that I’ll need it.

  My helmet meets his in a bobble-head-esque kiss. “I need time to think.”

  “Then you got it. I just need to know, when can I see you again?”

  I bark out a laugh, shoving him. “You’re insatiable.”

  The cool night air swirls around us on our ride home. Wrapped up in Coty and my thoughts, I feel lighter than I have in a while. Like maybe some of the weight on my shoulders has been lifted. Not transferred, not gone—it’s still there and it’s still mine—but it feels lighter, not as stifling. I just don’t know if that’s a good thing yet.

  CHAPTER 22

  Angela

  With graduation on Saturday, many adult lives are set to officially begin come Sunday—the ones without severe hangovers anyway—but mine started years ago when my role switched from child to the only mature figure in the house. The one saddled with holding my emotionally immature mother together. Reminding her when bills were due. Then the one paying those bills after she chose to neglect them. Soothing her as she sobbed in a heap on the floor about the life she’d never have. The one dodging the insults hurtled my way for purportedly robbing that same unattainable life. Taking care of myself with my own earnings while she squandered away any money she could get her idle hands on. Her latest ex-husband being her most recent victim—that I know of—she never discriminated where she could get the money. Willing to lie, cheat, and steal from anyone to get it, Rianne would find a way.

  I had hiding places all over the house for income I garnered. At first, she showed restraint, only taking small amounts so as not to alert me. Bored with not causing friction though, she grew bold and raided all my hiding places at once, leaving them bone dry.

  I’ll never forget the day I came home from work to find my room upturned, everything ripped from the walls, clothes thrown about, mattress flipped, shoes tossed around. Seeing the drawers to my secondhand dresser yanked clear out was what set me off though—I’d taped money under the bottoms of those drawers. I was diligent in keeping them closed whenever she was around or before I left the house. Already doing my own laundry for years, she had no reason to be near my dress
er. She was never quiet about her dislike in my clothing choices either. Too sporty. Not feminine enough. Just the way I like them.

  No, the only way she would’ve found the money was if she went searching. Finding the tape pockets empty was the last time I came close to losing it. My temper. My grip. My fucking sanity. I had saved hundreds of dollars. And it was gone. All of it.

  The worst part was seeing her standing in the doorway with a victorious smirk on her face. Not an ounce of guilt. No shame whatsoever. Just sick anticipation awaiting a reaction. Which is exactly why I didn’t give her one. I cleaned up my room with shaking hands and cloudy eyes. Not saying a single word even as she made comments from her spot at the threshold. Still, I didn’t break.

  With each shirt folded, I added another brick to my border. Every shoe reorganized was another wall built. Replacing the drawers, I set the armor in place. Righting my bed was attaching the final piece of defense in keeping me safe.

  She could be the hurricane that destroyed everything in its path, but she’d never break me. The little bits in my life I’d mistakenly cared for became meaningless in that moment. Anything she could use against me were no longer important—memories, hobbies, interests, trinkets—they didn’t lose value, they just lost value to me. Because I made it so, not her.

  From that day forward, her attempts to get under my skin turned from childish and petty to nasty and malicious, even violent at times. She got the reactions she was looking for in the beginning. That was until I realized I had to strengthen my body, too, not just my mind. Staying composed was hard, becoming better wasn’t. Rianne was willing to sink to such low depths but I chose to climb outside her reach entirely. She wanted to hurt me, I ensured she couldn’t.

  That’s something my sister still hasn’t learned. She thinks we should cater to my mom and handle her with kid gloves, where I’d rather just not handle Rianne at all. Having chosen to live with her dad for the majority of her life, she only saw the good side of our mother. She was only shown the good side. Our mom always behaved differently around Kelsie though, careful not to let her crazy show. Thinking Perry would come to his senses one day and take her back, she was always on her best behavior. The weekends my sister would visit were the only times I saw the kind of parent my mother could’ve been had I not been born. A fact she made sure to remind me of whenever Kelsie left again.