She lifts herself up on her elbows and gives me a heated stare. “Sawyerrrrr,” she pleads.
“What do you want, baby?”
“You know what I want,” she says, her face red with either embarrassment or passion.
“Say it,” I say, giving her clit a teasing flick.
“No.”
I stick out my tongue and circle it along the edge of her wet pussy as I watch her. Her eyes roll upwards in pleasure. “Say it,” I command.
She opens her eyes again and looks right at me. I can tell she’s fighting it. She wants so badly to say it, but she doesn’t want to give me all the control.
Then she takes her finger and puts it on her clit. “If you don’t make me come, I will.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
My cock swells even bigger at her words. I’d love nothing more than to watch her get herself off. But not now. This one’s all mine. And I tell her that.
“Not today you won’t. But the thought of you doing that almost made me come.”
Her sultry smile recedes, and her mouth falls open as I push her hand aside and double my efforts. I bring her to the brink of orgasm over and over, each time, she begs me for more. Every time I pull away, I remove a piece of my clothing until I’m fully naked on top of her. She’s on the brink of insanity. I’m on the verge of explosion.
When neither of us can stand it any longer, I push myself inside of her, both of us moaning in pleasure at the exquisite feeling. I know neither of us will last long, so I take my time and savor her, making long slow strokes. She’s clawing at my back, meeting me thrust for thrust. She’s building up so high, I doubt I’ll even have to use my hand to get her there.
Her thighs tighten. Her back arches. Her eyes close.
“No,” I say. “Look at me.”
Her eyes open and I watch her come as I feel the sweet sensation of her walls pulsating around me. It pushes me over the edge and I join her, shouting out her name and other words of pleasure as I spill myself inside of her.
My eyes close briefly from the intensity. When I open them, she’s still watching me. We stare at each other, her waning pulses still milking the last drops from me. She’s gorgeous. I wipe away a piece of wet hair that got caught in her mouth.
“God, Aspen, I lo—”
I freeze, mid-sentence. What the fuck am I doing?
I quickly pull out of her, jump off the bed and go to remove the condom. “Shit!”
I stare down at my naked cock. I shake my head from side to side. Never have I forgotten to wear one. Never.
Aspen is still lying in bed, staring at me with damp eyes. “What were you going to say to me?” she asks.
“I didn’t wear a goddamn rubber,” I tell her, still in shock over it.
“It’s fine. I’m on the pill. What were you going to say, Sawyer?”
I start pulling on my clothes, but she comes to the edge of the bed and grabs my arm. “You love me. That’s what you were going to say. Why can’t you just admit it?”
I look at her and shake my head over and over. “No. No. This can’t happen.”
I finish putting my shirt and pants on and walk out of her room. She grabs a robe and follows me. “Why can’t it happen, Sawyer? Quit fighting this. I know you love me. It’s okay. I love you, too. Don’t you think I’m scared, too? We can be scared together.”
I run down the stairs and grab my car keys. She tries to take them from me, but I push her away, careful not to push her into the wall. “I can’t. We can’t.” I walk through the back door and turn around to see her tears. “I’d only hurt you,” I say, just before closing the door.
Chapter Thirty-two
Aspen
I don’t immediately hear the loud engine of his uber-macho car, so I peek out the back window to see him sitting in the front seat, pounding his fists on the steering wheel.
What could possibly be going on in his head that has him so messed up? He was going to say he loves me. He does love me. I hear it in his words. Feel it in his touch. See it in his eyes.
I want to go after him, but I’m in a robe that barely covers my ass, so I race upstairs, hoping I can dress before he leaves. I throw on a t-shirt and some yoga pants and fly down the stairs, just in time to hear his car driving away.
I pick up my phone, wanting to call him, but knowing he won’t answer. I look at it, realizing I can follow him. I eye the pile of money on the table and then grab it before I run out front and hail a cab. I climb in the back seat. “I need you to follow someone.”
“Lady, are you crazy?” the cabbie says. “I’m not going to cause an accident. They’d pull my permit.”
I shake my head and hold up my phone. “I don’t mean you need to chase another car. I know his location. Just drive where I tell you.”
He narrows his eyes. “Just how long do you expect to be on this goose chase, Miss?”
I don’t tell him it could last a while. That the only reason Sawyer ever drives his car is if he’s going out of the city.
I wave around the wad of cash in my hand. “Don’t worry, I can cover it.”
He eyes the cash. Then he looks at me like I think my father would have under these circumstances. “In my experience, this never ends well,” he tells me.
“It may not. But I at least have to try.”
“It’s your life, Miss. And your money. Where to?”
I open the ‘Find My Friends’ app – the one Sawyer demanded I install after we signed the contract. He wanted to make sure I was going to be where I said I was. I told him it went both ways, that if he got to know where I was, I should get to know where he was. But I’m fairly sure neither of us has used it until now.
So here I sit in the back of a cab, a desperate woman chasing after an untouchable man, wondering how I could have sunk so low.
I give the cabbie the directions. We’re only a few blocks behind Sawyer, so it’s not hard to stay close. But thirty minutes later, when we’re on a bridge heading out of the city, the cabbie questions my intent.
“Looks like he’s headed to Connecticut. You sure you want to do this?”
I throw a hundred-dollar bill in the passenger seat. “I’m sure.”
He looks at the bill and laughs. “I hope he’s worth it.”
“Me, too.”
Every so often, I throw another hundred up front just to keep his mouth shut. We pass by Stamford and Bridgeport and eventually turn off I-95 toward the town of New Haven.
This is where Sawyer grew up. Not that he told me, but it’s listed on his Wikipedia page. What’s he coming home to? His parents are gone and, as far as I know, he doesn’t have any siblings.
My thoughts go haywire and my heart falls. It has to be a woman. One he runs to when things get tough. I run to Denver or Bass. He runs to her.
As the cab pulls up in front of a small suburban home, I can see Sawyer still in his car. And he’s still pounding the steering wheel. Maybe he feels guilty about running to her. Maybe he’s going to turn around and leave. Maybe we should drive down the block and let him.
But his car door opens and he gets out, making a bee-line for the front door.
I quickly settle with the cab driver, leaving him an insanely huge tip, and jump out the back door.
“Is this her house?” I yell, as he walks up the sidewalk. “Is this where the beach lady lives? Did you run back to your real girlfriend?”
I realize I sound like a jealous bitch, but I’m sick of his lies and his excuses. I’m sick of his walking away from me when he gets secret phone calls. I’m tired of loving a man who is incapable of love.
“What the fuck, Aspen? Who’s the crazy one now?” He watches the cab pull away from the curb. “You followed me?”
I hold up my phone. “You’re the brilliant one who wanted us to be able to track each other.”
He looks at the house and then back at me, guilt washing over his features. “Danny lives here.”
“Dani? Is that her name? Great, so how about introducing her
to the woman you’re fucking in her place.”
He cringes. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Too scared to introduce us? You think it might tarnish your precious reputation?”
He looks to the sky and runs his hands through his hair. “Danny isn’t a woman, Aspen.”
“She’s not?”
“No.”
I furrow my brow. “Then I’m confused.”
He takes in a big breath and lets it out. He is scared of something. But now I just don’t know what.
“You want to see why I can’t do this?” he asks, pointing his finger between the two of us. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
He grabs my hand and hastily pulls me to the front door where he rings the bell. A woman answers the door. An older woman, probably in her fifties. And she seems surprised to see Sawyer. She recovers from her surprise, quickly looks me over, and then leans out of the doorway to give Sawyer a kiss on the cheek in greeting.
“Hi, Sawyer. I wasn’t expecting you,” she says. “Did I forget you were coming?”
“I didn’t know myself until just a little while ago. Is it okay?”
“Sure. Daniel just had his bath and is putting on his pajamas. He should be right out.”
I look from Sawyer to the woman as her words settle in.
He has a secret. A reason he can’t be with someone. Danny is a boy not a girl.
Oh, my God. It all makes sense now.
“Sawyer, do you have a son?”
His eyes grow wide. “Uh, no. Why would you think that?”
I shrug. “You’re so secretive. I just, I guess I thought …” I nod to the woman.
The woman laughs. “Oh, Lord, no.” She holds out her hand to me. “What your rude companion means to say is that I’m Lucy Edwards. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aspen. I’ve read a lot about you despite the fact that our mutual friend doesn’t talk much.”
“Sorry,” Sawyer grunts out in apology. “Aspen doesn’t know about Danny. She kind of followed me here after we had a fight.”
Lucy nods in understanding. “Ahhh. I think I get it. You followed him to find out about his dirty little secret.”
I nod in shame.
“He’s not my dirty little secret, Lucy,” Sawyer says in disgust.
“Both of you, come on in. Daniel should be right out.”
We walk into Lucy’s house and I look around, searching for clues. Anything to help me understand what is going on here.
Then, suddenly, a man comes lumbering down the hallway and almost tackles Sawyer onto the couch.
“Sawyer! Did you come to say goodnight?” he asks excitedly.
“You bet I did, buddy. And I brought a friend. Danny, this is Aspen.”
I stare at the man who is a man, but also a child. He’s almost as big as Sawyer, but his words are simple, and something about the way he looks is … off. He looks so innocent and carefree. Much younger than his years would indicate.
I hold my hand out to him but he pulls me into a tight hug instead. “Aspen is a funny name,” he says, squeezing me.
“Daniel, that’s not a nice thing to say,” Lucy scolds.
“It’s okay,” I say. “It is a funny name. My parents really liked skiing.”
“Aspen is the name of a city,” Lucy tells Danny. “Can you guess what state it’s in?”
Danny thinks on it and then runs over to get a large atlas from the bookshelf. Lucy opens it to the center pages where there is a huge map of the U.S. She gives him clues, telling him he’s hotter or colder when he moves his finger around. When he finally points to Colorado, we all cheer.
“Danny, Aspen has a twin brother who is also named after a city in Colorado,” Sawyer says. “Can you guess what his name is?”
Looking at the atlas, it doesn’t take him long to guess Denver’s name.
It’s becoming obvious to me that Danny has some major mental deficits. What’s not obvious is how this has anything to do with Sawyer and me.
When Sawyer walks Danny back to tuck him into bed, Lucy pulls me into the kitchen. “You look confused.”
“I have no idea what’s going on here,” I say. “One minute we were … we were … and then he almost … and then he ran off and now we’re here.”
“There’s a lot more to this story than you know. But I’m going to leave it to Sawyer to fill you in.” She pulls down two bottles of wine from on top of her refrigerator. “Do you like red or white?”
I cock my head to the side.
“Honey, I’ve never seen a person more in need of a drink than you are right now,” she says laughing. “You two can sit out on the back porch. Let him tell you all about Daniel. It might explain some things about the man you love.”
I let out a sigh. Right. The man I love. The man who the world thinks loves me back. In fact, they think he loves me so much he wants to marry me. What a farce.
“You do, don’t you? Love him, I mean. Even though you’re faking it. Even though he hired you to be his girlfriend?”
My eyes go wide. “You know about that?”
“I heard him talking to Daniel about it one day when he didn’t know I was listening. I guess he needed to tell someone and Daniel was a safe bet to keep a secret since he wouldn’t understand. Sawyer doesn’t know that I know. But I’ve watched him these past months, both in person and in the news. He’s changed. Arrangement or not, you’ve changed him. I see the way he looks at you. There’s nothing fake about it.”
“He says he can’t have a girlfriend. He says he’ll hurt me.”
Lucy shakes her head. “That man wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’ve known him for a lot of years, Aspen. He only hurts himself.”
Sawyer walks into the kitchen and eyes the bottles of wine Lucy’s holding.
“Lucy offered us a drink and her back porch so you can get whatever this is off your chest.”
“It’s time,” Lucy tells him. “It’s long overdue and you know it.”
He nods his head silently, grabs the bottle of red wine from her and then we head out back.
Lucy hands me the glasses and shuts the door behind us, smiling at Sawyer in encouragement before she walks away. I’m so confused I can’t think straight. Is Lucy his mother and Daniel his brother? I know it couldn’t be so, unless he’s been lying to me all this time. And the butterfly thing – surely he didn’t make that up.
We sit down on the porch swing and the wood creaks as if it hasn’t been sat on in a while. Sawyer opens the screw-top wine and pours us each a hefty glass. Then he proceeds to drink half of his in silence.
It’s killing me knowing he’s got something weighing on him like this. I can tell he wants to talk. He probably even needs to talk. My guess is that nobody knows his secret outside of the people in this house.
“My dad loved my mom as much as I’d ever seen a man love a woman,” he says.
I nod my head, thinking the exact same thing about my parents.
“Then again, I was ten,” he says. “I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know that all men didn’t hit their wives.”
My heart falls into the pit of my stomach when I realize what he’s telling me. “Oh, Sawyer.” I look back into the house to see Lucy busying herself in the kitchen. “Is that your mom? Did she have to run away and change her identity?”
I try to grab his hand, but he pulls away.
He laughs sadly. “No. Lucy’s not my mother. I told you my mother is dead.”
“But then who is she? Who’s Danny?”
He takes another long swig of wine. “It got worse over the years, my dad hitting my mom. She always defended him. She told me he loved her so much he couldn’t help it. She said everything he did was to keep her safe. She said she loved him, too. I couldn’t understand why. When she turned up with fresh bruises and a smile on her face, I was so confused. Did she like what he was doing to her?”
“Sawyer – what does this have to do with Danny?”
“You need to let me finish, Aspen. Please. I’ve
never told this to anyone and it’s hard for me. You have to let me do it my way.”
I nod my head. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”
I’ve never seen so much pain on a person’s face. This man – this big, strong athlete – is letting everything out. He’s finally opening up to me. This could be the turning point for us. The moment he realizes his feelings for me are stronger than his past.
“My father killed my mother,” he says.
I look over at him in horror, tears welling in my eyes. I grab his hand. This time he lets me. I have a million questions, but I don’t ask any of them. Like he said, he needs to do this his way.
“Her official cause of death was multiple major organ damage from an accidental fall. I never even saw her death certificate until I found it after my dad drank himself to death a few years ago. I always wondered what they listed as the cause of her death. It should have been ‘being pushed down the stairs by her son-of-a-bitch husband.’ But there was never a mention of any abuse in her medical records. They hid it well. She hid it well.”
He puts down his glass and touches his rib cage where his tattoo is. “I should have known she was miserable. How could any person endure what she did and not be? But I guess she was afraid of what would happen to me if she tried to leave him. We were poor. She would have had no way to hire an attorney. I guess she thought that if my dad was hitting her, he wouldn’t have to hit me. And she was right, because after she died, I became his punching bag.”
My hand goes to cover my mouth. “Oh, Sawyer,” I cry.
He shakes his head. “Don’t feel too sorry for me. It didn’t last long. I was fast and could usually outrun him. I’d hide somewhere in the neighborhood and wait to go home until he left for work. By the time I was thirteen, I was almost as big as he was. He’d try to hit me, but I wouldn’t let him. By the time I was fifteen, I got the courage to hit back.”
“You were fast even then,” I say, with an elbow to his rib in an attempt to lighten the mood.
He laughs a painful laugh. “Hell, he’s probably the reason I’m such a good sprinter. But never in a million years would I admit he has anything to do with my success in baseball.”
Stealing Sawyer Page 26
