by L. B. Dunbar
Take 18
Scene: Cottage Bedroom
[Gavin]
Holy shit.
My life flashed before my eyes as the headlights illuminated her, and she didn’t respond to her name. I moved without thought, reaching out for her waist and tugging her back to me. The car was going way too fast for a side street, especially with the kids playing so close to the road. In my head, I could only see the car crashing into Britton, and I reacted.
“Did I hurt you?” I tugged her pretty hard, almost picking her up. The asshole didn’t even stop other than to do a rolling pause at the intersection and continue down the street.
“I’m okay,” Britton finally says, fingers clenching mine as I hold her hand and drive her home. She’s lying, but I let her tell me what I want to hear.
She’s okay.
Watching her hug Gee to her chest, I wanted to wrap them both in my arms and hold them to me. I wanted to make promises. I’d take care of her. I’d take care of him. They were both promises I wanted to honor, even if I’m leaving in a few days.
Once we park in her driveway, I hop out of the car and round it for the passenger door. Holding it open, I quickly reach for her hand again.
“I’m okay, Gavin.” She exhales as if telling me to confirm it for herself. I lead her to her front porch, but I’m not leaving.
“I don’t want to let you out of my sight,” I whisper after following her to her front door. She opens it, and I continue to follow her. Once in her living room, she turns to face me. Not a second passes before my mouth crashes hers, hands cupping her face. I breathe her in as my lips move with hers. Her fingers comb through my hair to the back of my head, holding me to her. Bending at the knees, I lift her, spinning her for the front barrier.
“Theo,” she whispers.
“What?”
“He’ll be home soon,” she mutters, returning her mouth to mine. The implication is clear. I can’t take her up against the back of the front door.
“I’m not leaving,” I tell her. If all I do is hold her all night, I want her close. I want to know she’s safe. I will take care of her tonight.
“Bedroom,” she mumbles against my mouth, and I spin us, carrying her wrapped around my waist to her room.
She giggles as we walk. “You can put me down.”
“I’m not going to stop touching you.” With my hands under her thighs and her legs balancing on my hips, I take her into her room, kick the door closed, and set her on the bed. Instantly, I climb over her, forcing her to fall back. My hands travel over her midsection and down to her hip. She winces.
“What?” Pulling back, I peer down at where my hand rests. She tugs at the waist of her skirt, revealing a red mark near her hip.
“You gripped me pretty hard.” Glancing up at her face, she’s looking down at the spot on her skin.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know,” she whispers. “You saved me.” Her fingers swipe through my hair before I lower my head, moving my body down hers to tug down the skirt and kiss the bruised skin. Tenderly, I suck at her hipbone before pressing kisses along her lower waist. Pulling at her skirt, I tuck my fingers into her underwear, tugging both articles of clothing down to reveal her to me.
“Gavin,” she whispers.
“I can’t stop,” I tell her, wanting to cover every inch of her with my mouth. Once her skirt and underwear are removed, I spread her legs, placing my body between her thighs. My index finger runs along her folds, slick and ready for me, but I want a taste. My mouth covers her, sucking at her before licking along her slit. My tongue delves forward, and I’m a starving man, devouring her. Her thighs spread further, opening her up to me as I take what I want.
“Sport,” she mutters, breaking out the old nickname, and I’m reminded of what she said earlier. We can’t go back to those two crazy summer kids. She’s right. We can’t. This is so much better. Using tongue and teeth, I work her while my thumb rubs her trigger spot. Her legs stiffen, closing her thighs on the sides of my head like she clamped my arm the other night, and she breaks apart. Sweet as candy.
Eventually, she presses at my head as a warning to release her. After a final kiss, I climb up her body, and her hands move to my belt.
“Take this off,” I demand, pushing at her shirt, and she tugs up the material, revealing a nude bra underneath. I hadn’t even noticed her underwear. I don’t care about her clothing. I want to see her naked. Reaching behind her back, I undo the clasp and bring the silky fabric forward, exposing two of the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen.
“You’re glorious,” I tell her, but her hand slips to her belly. I grip her wrist.
“What’s this?”
“I have stretch marks,” she says, looking away from me.
“Hey,” I whisper, pushing her hand away from her stomach and pressing kisses across her skin. “This is beautiful. You did a beautiful thing. You’re a mother, Brit. That’s such a fucking turn on.”
She huffs, but after kissing her belly, I slip up to a breast, eagerly taking it into my mouth.
“Gavin,” she hisses as I suck at the heavy globe, swirl my tongue around her nipple, and then tug the taut nub to a sharp tip. Quickly, I move to the other breast, repeating the motion. Angled to the side of her body, I rub a hand down the center of her, between the valley of her breasts, over her stomach, and through the soft mound of hair at the top of her legs.
“You’re so beautiful, Brit.”
Her head lifts so her mouth can take mine again, and we kiss, heated and hot for several minutes before her hand returns to my belt. I don’t stop her as she unbuckles and unzips me so her hand can slip inside my boxer briefs, curling around me.
She falls back to the bed, catching my gaze as she strokes me. Damn, that feels good. Shifting to sit, she pushes me to my back and wrestles my shorts and briefs down my legs. Returning to stroke me, she watches her hand working the stiff length.
“I might be bad at this.”
I chuckle softly as what she’s doing is enough to bring me to my knees. Then her tongue swipes over my tip, and my eyes roll back. I bite my lower lip holding back a groan while my hand slips into her hair, holding the side of her neck. She opens her mouth, taking me within the warmth of her, and I’m thrown back in time. The heat of her mouth. The swirl of her tongue. The hesitant suction. She’s slow, meticulous, and like none other. She doesn’t miss a beat, taking her time to explore me with her mouth until my legs quiver, needing more from her.
“Enough,” I growl before jackknifing up and tugging my shirt over my head. A hand lands on my pec before stroking down my chest, through the coarse hairs below my belly and lower. With light pressure, she pushes me back and straddles me. Her wet heat lands over me, and she slides up and down my eager dick, coating me in her essence. I’m ready to beg her to let me inside her.
“Condom,” she whispers. The word is spoken like a question, hinting she hasn’t needed to ask for such a thing in a long while. Balancing her on my lap, I reach for my shorts and fumble through my wallet. I remove the wrapper having no idea how long it’s been in there. She watches as I cover myself, giggling nervously.
“I might be bad at this too,” she says, her voice soft.
“Never,” I encourage, reaching up to brush back her hair, holding it behind her ear as she strokes me up and down with her hand again before positioning me at her entrance. Her eyes close, her expression pinches.
“Brit, baby, look at me.” Her lids spring open, and her eyes sparkle like gems. With my hands on her hips, I guide her over me, slipping into her, and her lids slowly close again as she takes me into her body. Her palms flatten on my chest, and her head tips forward, her hair curtaining her face. She drags herself upward, hovering on my tip before dropping back down, swallowing me into her.
“Gavin,” she whispers as if she’s surprised by the sensation, surprised how well we still fit together.
“Feel good?” I quietly ask.
&nbs
p; “You have no idea,” she replies, still shocked.
“Oh, I have some idea,” I reply as she glides up and down, taking her time to pull me inside her. Her expression shifts. A slow smile of pleasure fills her face. “You’re so beautiful.”
Britton bites her lip and moves faster, taking me deeper. The only sound between us is the sound of us coming together and the soft intake of our breath. She moves over me like liquid, fluid like a dancer. She’s stealing my heart just like she did all those years ago. I’ve never been with anyone like this since her.
“Gavin.” My name catches in her throat, and she moves faster, finding the spot she needs, increasing the friction against her clit. “Gavin, I’m gonna . . .”
My hips buck, encouraging her to take what she wants from me. “Get there,” I plead, struggling to hold back.
“I never . . . this doesn’t happen.”
“It’s happening,” I tell her, letting her work my body however she needs.
After one more groan of my name, she stills, head falling back, hair tumbling down her spine. Her thighs spread over my hips as if she can take me deeper. She slides up my dick one more time before falling back down, holding herself pinned to me. She clenches me, milking me, and I’m ready to come undone.
When I’m certain she’s satisfied, I flip her over, rocking into her.
“God, I’ve missed you,” I whine, driving into her.
“When?” she teases.
“All day,” I murmur as I move faster, bucking harder. Speeding up, we clap together until I can’t take anymore. Tension rushes to my balls, and I still, spilling into her, releasing as I’ve never come before. Eventually, I collapse over her, tucking my head into her neck. Our breaths come in exaggerated pulls and short puffs.
“And all my life,” I admit under the influence of her body underneath mine.
“All your life what?” she says.
“I’ve been missing you.”
Take 19
Scene: Cottage Bedroom (continued)
[Britton]
His words are too much, and slowly it catches up to me what we did. I had sex with Gavin Scott—again. When I promised myself it would never happen, it has, and I attribute the moment to being caught up in the near-miss of an accident. Only, I’m not quick to push him out of my bed. I roll to face him as he lies on his back, looking up at the ceiling as if trying to process what we’ve done.
“Theo will be home soon,” I warn. Then it occurs to me Gavin doesn’t have a car. He turns his head to face me as if having the same thought.
“Let me stay,” he whispers, his dark eyes searching mine. I shouldn’t. Everything in me tells me he should leave, but I don’t want him to go. It might be difficult to accept what we’ve done, but I’ll feel worse if he rushes out my door.
“I’ll need to sneak you out in the morning.” Gavin gives me a slow grin as it’s the kind of thing we had to do when I was a teen, living here with my uncle. Some nights Gavin would sneak into my room, which is now Gee’s, and spend the night just holding me in my twin bed. In the early mornings, he’d sneak out, but I don’t think we ever fooled Leo or Gertie.
Gavin rolls to mirror my body and kisses the tip of my nose. “Bathroom?”
I point at a door on the other side of my bed, and Gavin hops up to dispose of the condom. It was awkward asking him if he had one. I hadn’t thought about something like that for over ten years, but he didn’t seem to mind, and I don’t want to question him about readily having one in his wallet. However, I do tease him.
“How old was that thing?” It’s meant to be a joke, but on second thought, I worry he keeps them convenient for spontaneous moments.
“Would you be nervous if it’s been in there since I was twenty-five?”
I laugh. “Just a little bit.”
“I would have loved to go without,” he admits, and my head pops up to watch him crawl back on the bed.
“What about . . .?” God, this is even more awkward, and the timing doesn’t seem appropriate, but I’ve already put it out there, and Gavin quickly answers.
“Never.”
My mouth falls open. “You never went without, even with your girlfriend?”
“Zoey was extra cautious about pregnancy. She was on the pill, and I always used a condom.” The idea makes me swallow hard as I know firsthand those two things in combination are not always foolproof. Even Pam Carter joked earlier tonight about the same thing as she’s five months pregnant after only one night with Jacob, her fiancé.
Gavin perches up on his elbow, placing his head in his open hand. “What about you?”
“What about me?” I snort. Patrick and I didn’t need protection. He already knew he couldn’t get me pregnant, but this isn’t something I want to share with Gavin. I can’t tell him Patrick was sterile.
Instead, I slip off the bed to clean up and return to find Gavin sitting upright with his legs under the covers. With pillows propped behind his back, his chest is on display, and he’s a vision of masculinity. My foolish heart imagines him in this position every night, next to me.
“Are you always going to avoid talking about him?” Gavin asks as I tug back the sheets and slide in next to him, laying on my side to look up at him.
“Don’t you think it’s awkward to discuss him now?”
“I just want to understand your relationship.” He glances over at me, his eyes full of questions.
“We were married. What more do you need to know?”
“Did you love him?” There’s something behind the question I can’t read. Is he hoping I didn’t?
“Gavin,” I groan.
“Just tell me.” His demand comes out a little rough as if he’s bracing himself for my answer.
“I did. He’d been my best friend.”
“How did you meet?”
I smile at the reminder while I sigh at the explanation. “He was a benefactor of the arts. He supported the dance company, and I met him at a fundraiser.” Before I was pregnant. Before we were intimate. I’d known him for a year.
“Our relationship was easy. Patrick was a friend.” He was also accepting, which made him safe. He knew all my secrets and respected them. “He was my best friend as I said.”
Now would be the time to tell Gavin, my head warns, but I remind myself I promised to hold off until after the wedding. I didn’t want anything clouding his attention from his purpose this week. Plus, I knew how much his parents, especially his mother, wanted to see him again, and it felt important for him to spend time with them, drama-free.
“Jess mentioned he was older than you by quite a bit. Why weren’t you married sooner?”
“Gavin,” I groan his name again, rolling to my back and staring up at the ceiling. “Patrick was eighteen years older than me, yes.”
“I heard what you said at the party. Gee was almost a year old before you married. Just tell me he was good to you while you were pregnant. Did you just want to wait until after the baby was born?”
Gavin pauses while I decide how to answer him, and then he speaks again.
“You said you were twenty-three when you got pregnant. You must have hooked up with him pretty quickly after that weekend.” His voice lowers, and he looks down at his hands cupped in his lap. To say Patrick and I hooked up does not do our relationship justice. As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I had to take a leave of absence from the dance company. Leo and Gertie took me in once I expressed my panic and fear. Patrick sought me out, finding me only after Gee was born.
“What happened to you after that weekend?” I ask him instead, twisting to look back at him.
“Zoey,” he bitterly huffs. “We met shortly after that weekend.” Gavin rolls his wrist, reminding me of his injury.
I stare at him, knowing how that weekend altered my life. How my perspective of what was important changed completely. In a sense, he had his own adjustments after that weekend as well.
“Tell me something good about your dad.” The statemen
t startles Gavin, and he peers over at me. I adjust the sheet over me, securing it over my breasts and perching up on an elbow to look at him.
“Why?”
“Just play along.” For the next half hour, Gavin regales me with stories of his childhood. His father, the farm, and the shenanigans with his brother and Jess Carter. Some of these stories I remember hearing before. Some are new to me. Either way, my hope is several things. I don’t want to keep discussing our past relationships, both with others or between ourselves. I want him to consider good times with his father, as I’ve often had to do with Gee to settle him when he was worked up after Patrick’s death. I’m also hoping Gavin might accept this town isn’t as bad as he remembers. That he had fun here as a child, as I’m hoping Gee will make fond memories as he grows.
Gavin knows there isn’t much to share about my parents, so he asks me about Leo and Gertie and how they were once they were older. Without admitting I spent another year living with them at twenty-three, turning twenty-four, I offer things we did together. Sweet or quirky things they did as a couple. I loved them as the grandparents I never had, possibly even loving them more than my own parents.
Gavin slowly slips lower under the sheets, and I lay my head on my pillow as we talk about more generic things.
“Speaking of fishing, that metal boat you have doesn’t seem any sturdier than Leo’s old thing.”
I chuckle. “We hardly use it, but Theo said the same thing. He’s taken Gee out a few times in it, but they never go far. Gee isn’t allowed to take it alone. Ever.”
“I’d like to buy him a new one,” Gavin admits, and I gasp.
“No, Gavin. That’s way too generous. We don’t need it. It’s already August. Soon enough, summer will turn to fall. Maybe next year, I can afford it.”
Gavin nods. “I’d like him to have it anyway. Maybe he’ll remember fishing with me.” My chest tightens with the thought. Why would Gavin even want Gee to remember him? “He’s such a great kid.” Gavin’s voice holds a smile as he speaks about my son. “You’ve done such a great job as his mother, Brit.”
