by C. A. Harms
I notice the smile tugging at Sutton’s lips before she quickly attempts to hide it.
“Then he threatens to knock Derrick on his ass.” Lexi lifts her beer and downs the rest before setting it on the bar once more. She looks disheveled, and I turn away, burying my nose in Sutton’s hair to hide my laughter.
She elbows me softly, but I can see the happiness dancing in her eyes. She loves this too.
I’ve heard stories of this prick Derrick, not only from the guys but from Sutton too. Fortunately, I’ve not had the opportunity to meet him, which is probably a good thing.
“Why now?” Lexi finally says, placing her hands on the bar top, almost like she’s attempting to brace herself. “He had the chance to say something so many times, yet he waits until now.”
“O’Shay boys don’t have the best timing,” Sutton declares, and I smack her on the ass. Her yelp echoes before pushing back against me. “Men, babe, not boys,” I clarify with a wink.
“That’s currently up for debate,” offering me her customary sass, and I make a note to remind her later that I’m all man.
“Anyway,” she starts again. “There is this brain-to-heart malfunction they seem to suffer with. Their heads are thinking one thing, overthinking in my opinion, but their heart is screaming for something else. The problem is they ignore their heart until it’s almost too late, and then bam, it hits them.”
“What hits them?” Lexi mumbles.
“Yeah,” I lean in and kiss her cheek, “what hits them?”
“The fact that no matter how hard they try, they can’t ignore their heart.”
Sliding my hand around her, I bring it to rest on her lower stomach and get as close to her as I possibly can. “Not when his heart is screaming the woman in front of him is who he’s meant to love.” I say. She snuggles in closer to me, and we both look at Lex. She seems wholly baffled as she stares blankly at her empty beer.
Part of me wants to grab ahold of her and lead her right to my brother, where she belongs, but I know she has to go on her own. It’s time for Bennett to sweat it out; I just hope that he can keep his ass out of jail in the process.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Sutton
* * *
"Babe," I look up from my iPad and find Brantley standing in the open doorway of his bedroom with nothing more than a towel wrapped securely around his waist. Without attempting to hide it, I scan over him, biting my lip to stifle my moan.
He's all glistening from his shower, hair still wet and tousled looking. Not to mention the lack of fat on the man's body as his thick chest gradually tapers to his waist—a slight trace of hair on his lower abdomen that disappears beneath the light blue towel.
It hardly seems fair.
"Eyes up here," he chuckles when I quickly lift my gaze to meet his. You would think that I hadn't just spent more than an hour pinned beneath him while the sounds of both our moans filled his apartment. "You with me?" His enjoyment of my lack of control around him is evident.
"Yes," though I'd much rather be on you.
"Can you do me a favor and run out to my truck and grab my cologne out of the center counsel?"
I nod, laying my iPad down. "Do you plan to be still wearing that," I point at him, "when I return?"
"If I am, I have a feeling we'll be late for dinner." Suddenly dinner with our friends doesn't interest me. "Are you telling me you wanna skip it?" He takes a step toward me, and I consider his offer. "Baby, you keep looking at me like that, and I'll choose for the both of us."
Swallowing past the lump that feels like it's formed in my throat, I step back, and his smile grows.
I grab his keys off the coffee table and open the door, taking the opportunity to glance back once more. He seriously is the hottest man on the planet.
I walk down the sidewalk, pushing the unlock button, and the headlights flash. I pull open the door and heave myself up inside the big, lifted truck. I will never understand the need for the guys around here to have such monster trucks. It's like a competition, each one trying to outdo the other.
Opening the center console, I reach in and grab the bottle. Writing in red ink catches my attention—penmanship much too frilly and fancy to belong to any man. I lean in closer, peeking into the compartment, bending my body at an odd angle to get the correct view.
I look forward to seeing you again.
Francine
A heart curls up from the end of the e at the end of her name and a phone number.
I stare at it, afraid to pick it up but I also want to burn it. I trust Brantley and don't think he's cheating for a second, but I can't help but wonder why he's decided to keep the card.
Had it been from someone he hooked up with after he returned home?
I allow the name Francine to roll around in my head, trying to remember if I've ever heard it before. Then, sitting down in the driver's seat, I feel my chest tighten at the idea of Brantley touching any woman other than me. It makes my stomach sour.
Forcing myself to close the console and leave the offensive object behind, I grip the cologne tight as I pout on my way back inside.
Taking in a deep breath, I proceed down the hall and pause in the doorway of Brantley's bedroom. My pulse quickens once more at the sight of him. Barefoot, a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips, showing off the band of his boxers at the waist. He's still shirtless, his arms flexing as he runs his hands through his damp hair and all I can do is stare. Back muscles so defined, strong shoulders that leave me breathless, then he turns to look at me, and I swear I practically swallow my tongue.
I never thought I would ever refer to a man as breathtaking, yet here I am, doing just that.
“Hey, you," he turns completely around, and I begin to walk toward him. Pausing within only a few inches, I reach up and place my hand on his jaw. Then rising, I press my lips to his. Instantly his hand goes to my hip before sliding around to cup my ass. It's a given, and though he says he's not an ass man, I beg to differ.
"Are you telling me we’re backing out of dinner?" His smirk is knee-buckling, and my heart races as I stare at him. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," then why do I feel like crying?
"Sutton," Brantley places his finger beneath my chin and tilts it upward when I attempt to look down. "Don't tell me it's nothing," his smile is now gone and replaced with worry. "Not when I can see that it's something."
"I know it’s none of my business—,"
"Don't give me that," he cuts me off. Then, letting go of my chin, he sits on the end of the bed, pulling me into his lap. He has a much better view of my face at this angle, and there is no possible way for me to hide. "What is it?"
“I’m sure she is someone that you were with before you and I decided to give it a shot, but.” my lower lip trembles, and again I feel like a complete fool. "I wasn't snooping, it was just there under your cologne, and the red ink sorta made it jump out when I lifted the bottle. And like I said, I have no right even to ask —,"
"Baby, what are you talking about?"
"Francine," I say her name in a rush because I know if I don't, I will keep rambling. What I don't expect is for Brantley to start laughing before wrapping me in one of the tightest hugs while burying his head in my chest.
When he looks up at me, he has tears in his eyes.
I try to stand from his lap, and he only grips me tighter. "I can promise you, that you have absolutely nothing to worry about when it comes to any woman. You are the first and hopefully the last I've been with in a long damn time. Francine," he chuckles again, shaking his head. "She's the lady that helped me with all the furniture for my apartment."
I nod.
"And that's all she helped me with," he lays extreme emphasis on his final statement.
A sense of relief fills me.
"Can I just add that you are incredibly adorable when you're jealous?"
"Are you making fun of me?"
"No, babe," he leans in and kisses the tip of my nose. "Not at
all."
He is definitely making fun of me.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Brantley
* * *
"It's coming along good, son.” my dad walks around the perimeter of what will one day be my home—looking over the framed-up walls and the high peak of the trusses—a prideful smile covering his mouth.
Sectioned off to be a four-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath home. With a partial walkout basement, the upper level being the master bedroom and bath. The entire back wall of the room will have floor to peek windows that look out over the lake, tinted for privacy, of course.
"You boys have been working your asses off over here."
"We have," all six of us, every night and through the weekends. I never thought I'd be building a home by spotlights, but it isn't that bad. What makes it easier is Bennett has a shit ton of frustration coursing through him, and the guy works more diligently when he's pissed. It gives him drive.
We've even discussed the possibility of him building himself a place on the far edge of my property since I had so much land that we'd still have more than enough of our own space.
"How are things going with the girl?" He turns around and leans back against the temporary steps leading up to the subfloor. "Still good?"
Arching a brow, I move closer and join him. "This you asking for yourself or Ma?"
Chuckling, he dips his chin for a moment before looking back up at me. "You know her; she's already looking up patterns for baby clothes and cutting patches for baby quilts."
Being in my late twenties makes her believe that I should be married and giving her all kinds of grand babies to spoil. She and my father started young at nineteen when they had me and were just shy of twenty-two when Ben came along.
"Things are good, Pop." I feel an ache in my chest when I picture Sutton. The last several weeks have been amazing. We've spent time together, just her and I, doing nothing really, besides enjoying each other. But there is still one thing that bothers me, one thing I've hidden well, I think.
I love you.
I've yet to hear three words from her, and every time I say it, I hold my breath waiting for her to respond. I don't even know if she realizes that she's never told me in return. Although I know she cares about me, love isn’t something you can force.
"Bennett, doing okay?”
Being lost in thought, I almost miss my father's question.
"He doesn't talk to me, hell, I don't think he talks to anyone, but he's been like that his entire life. So bottled up with thoughts, trying to sort it all out on his own. Lately, though, he's more quiet than usual."
"He's dealing with some stuff," I'm not sure it's my place to share.
"Still having trouble dealing with you getting the girl?" My stomach drops, and I say nothing, only stare at the man I admire so much. The last thing I want is for him to feel disappointment or shame that I somehow took something from Ben. "You do know he's always had trouble sharing."
"Sharing?" She isn't his to share, and that's a fucked up thought anyway.
"What I mean is Sutton's been a prominent figure in his life over the last year and a half. She's been nothing more than a friend to him, but Bennett has always been selfish when it comes to things, he thinks are his. Her friendship, all those girls for that matter, he feels like they’re his alone. Sharing any of them with anyone would be hard. But with you, well, Bennett's had a lifetime of looking up to you, and you with Sutton makes him feel like somehow he's lost."
"She's still the same girl she was before I came home."
"The difference is, now she's in love with his brother."
I chuckle at his words, "Not sure she's in love," but I am.
"She is," he assures me, though I know he has no way of knowing. "Just keep an eye on your brother, would ya?"
"Yeah," though I'm not sure that will matter, I think with or without me hovering, that guy is going to self-destruct eventually.
"What is this?" I hold onto Sutton's hand and guide her up the stairs. Then, hurrying after her, I step up close and wrap my arms around her from behind.
"I was hoping that you'd be okay with spending the night out here with me." Sutton looks over her shoulder at me and then back toward the area I already have set up for us. A large, tall eight-man tent, an air mattress inside so the hard subfloor beneath doesn't make us pay dearly tomorrow. I stretched out a blanket just outside it, with bug repellent candles or more like lanterns scattered out around us to light the area. There is a basket my mother packed full of more food than the two of us need and a radio sitting off to the left of the blanket. "Unless you don't —,"
"It's perfect," she arches her neck back and kisses my jaw, "and I'd love to spend the night out here with you."
Turning in my arms, she gradually slides her palms over my chest. Her hands proceed up until she’s linking her fingers together behind my neck. I know without a doubt that I will never get enough of Sutton; she's consumed me from the start, and with each second, I spend with her, I only manage to fall deeper for her. I'm at her mercy, a complete and utter fool when it comes to her, and I'm okay with that.
"Are you hungry?"
She nods and offers me the sinful look that sends a thrill throughout my body. "But not for food," taking a step backward, she tugs me along, and I do nothing to stop her. "I assume whatever's in the basket can wait an hour," kissing the corner of my mouth, she pulls away much too quickly, "or maybe two."
Slouching only slightly to clear the top of the tent, we move inside, tangling together as I begin to lift her tank top over her head. The light blue lace bra against her tan skin is like a boost to my libido, and I begin to lower her to the mattress. Taking a few seconds to appreciate her beauty, I look down at her, and she smiles sweetly.
I still find it amazing just how much I love this woman.
When she reaches down and begins to unbutton her shorts, I am captivated by her movements.
Gathering my shirt, I too lift it over my head and drop it to the floor, joining hers. Followed by my jeans and boxers in one hurried swoop.
"You're beautiful," I say as I lower myself to my knees and slide my hands over her calves, working my way upward. "Every single time, you manage to take my breath away."
I am putty in her hands.
"You're not so bad yourself," she pants as she attempts to remain in control, but I can sense she is losing the battle. I work my way upward to kiss her inner thigh before moving on to the next. "Mm," I smile against her, licking along the seam of her panties. Her back arches up off the mattress, and I grin at her reaction. Then, tugging the blue lace down her legs, I toss them to the side and lower myself once more, licking through her center in one long glide of my tongue. "Brant," my name falls from her lips, and a surge of adrenaline courses through me, but I maintain control. I want this to last. I want her to feel how much I love her and how much I need her.
Continuing, I kiss over her stomach and proceed toward her chest. Nipping at the swell of her breast, she whimpers. Then, panting with need, she shifts her body against my own in a silent plea for more.
"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" She swallows hard, looking up at me. "You are what I came home for, I may not have known you then, but I honestly believe that I was meant to meet you. I've never felt this way, never wanted something so much."
When she places her hands on my face, holding me as she looks up at me, it feels like a part of me cracks and emotions swarm.
"I love you too," I feel like the weight of the world lifts off my shoulders as I stare at her. "So much that it scares me."
I know what she means. Losing her would devastate me. This girl, she's in all my dreams, all my fantasies. Sutton is the one I see when I imagine getting married, she's the one I see when I think of the day my first child is born. It’s her face, her smiles and laughter that fit this home when I dream of late nights by a fire, holding her close. Or early mornings on the back deck while we share coffee and our plans for the day.
<
br /> "Don't be scared," I whisper, leaning in to kiss her jaw before moving toward her lips. "You're mine, sweetheart, and I protect what's mine." Then, pulling back, I make sure she's looking at me before I continue. "Let me love you, and don't be afraid of it."
Without taking my eyes from hers, I slowly line myself up and push inside of her, never once looking away. A soft moan falls from her lips. For the first time, I make love to the woman who holds my heart, in the palm of her hands.
Chapter Fifty
Sutton
* * *
“Remind me why I’m pretending to need a new couch?” Adley asks as we climb out of my car, and I smooth out my skirt. I walk to the front of my car as she joins me, and I stare at the large building before me.
Mitchell’s.
“Because curiosity killed the cat, and I guess I have a death wish.”
“What the hell does that mean,” Adley pauses, and I’m forced to do the same or go in alone. I turn to face her and cross my arms over my chest, knowing already that she will laugh at my idiotic obsession to ease my mind.
“Brantley bought all his furniture here when he moved into his apartment.”
“And?”
“A lady named Francine helped him, and then she gave him her card with all her information written on the back, followed by a note that pretty much offers herself up to him being only a phone call away. I found the card in his truck, and though he assures me that nothing happened, and nothing will, it still left me wondering who this person is.”
Okay, now that I’ve said it out loud, it sounds ridiculous, but it still does nothing to stop me. I want to know who Francine is.
“So, will you please just pretend to be in search of a damn couch so I can scope out the lady that most likely rubbed one off to my guy at least once?”
