by Jenna Jacob
“Jesus, woman. How am I supposed to focus on a conversation?” he murmured before scowling at the ringing device in his hand.
“I’m just keeping it warm for you, sugar,” she giggled.
“Fuck!”
Though the show on the bed was beyond captivating, a hint of fear slid through him. Noble was calling. The fear that something had happened to one of the family crawled through him.
“Hello?”
“Whatcha doin’?” Noble asked in a taunting, childish lilt. “Something fun, I bet.”
“None of your damn business. What do you want?”
“Wow. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. What’s the matter…didn’t you get any last night?”
“What the fuck do you want?”
“I just called to make sure you remembered that we’ve got new campers coming in soon and wanted to see if you needed a ride to work.”
“I know. Why the fuck would I need a ride to work?”
“Well, they say jacking off too much makes you go blind. I just figured by now you couldn’t see.”
“What are you…twelve?” Sawyer spat. “I’ll see you and your service dog at the ranch later, you blind-assed motherfucker.”
“Wait! Wait!” Noble yelled.
“What?”
“Just tell me one thing…was Brea every bit as incredible as I imagine?”
“Fuck off before I rip your eyes out and you really will need a service dog.”
As his idiotic brother howled with laughter, Sawyer hung up. Placing his phone on the nightstand again, he sent Brea—who’d abandoned her masturbation performance and was now sitting up in bed—a look of apology. “Sorry. I thought the call might be important. It wasn’t.”
She grinned. “Let me guess, one of your brothers calling to give you shit about us not staying for dinner the other night, right?”
He nodded in annoyance. “Noble, the prick.”
“I still feel bad for dumping Ozzie on your family.”
“Don’t. I called Mom yesterday while you were taking a nap. She’d tried to figure out a way to convince Barbara to let her adopt him.”
“Good luck with that. What time do we need to be at the ranch?”
“Couple hours.”
Brea stood and walked toward him before pressing her soft lips to his neck. Reaching down, she stroked the tip of his hardened cock. “I vote we have a quickie in the shower, get dressed, then grab some breakfast before we head to the ranch.”
She could have suggested he put on a frilly pink tutu and dance Swan Lake in the middle of Main Street, and Sawyer wouldn’t have refused.
“I’ll start the water,” he offered, but didn’t move. He couldn’t. Her feathery-light caresses had seized the muscles in his legs. Instead, he delved into her silky mouth with a hungry moan. Tangling his tongue with hers, Sawyer dropped a hand between her legs and teased her already wet and swollen nub.
Eventually, they made it to the bathroom and into the shower. But instead of soaping her up and washing her hair, as he’d enjoyed doing the past two days, Sawyer pressed Brea up against the tile and aligned his crest to her opening.
“Oh, god,” she groaned, wiggling her ass as she worked him inside her silky center.
“Sorry, but you said a quickie. I’m simply trying to accommodate your wishes.”
“I’m trying to accommodate you at the moment. Damn, you’re big.”
The head on his shoulders was growing bigger, but it was the throbbing one between his legs that held Sawyer’s focus.
Twisting the massaging showerhead free, Sawyer aimed the pulsating spray at her clit. Brea jolted and moaned, then gripped his hand and aimed the stream higher. With a gratuitous groan, her tunnel softened, and Sawyer sank balls deep inside her silky core.
The sounds of wet skin slapping melded with grunts and cries of bliss. And when they shattered together, the reverberation of Brea’s screams echoed in his ears for long, glorious seconds.
When they stepped out of the shower, Sawyer wrapped her in a big, fluffy towel and pulled her against him. As he dropped kisses through the beaded-up water on her shoulders, she rested her head against his chest.
“You’d better watch out. I could grow accustomed to this style of pampering.”
“Good, ’cause I’m going to pamper the pants off you,” Sawyer growled.
“Too late. You already have…numerous times, but feel free to pamper me as long as you want.”
“Even if it’s forever?”
Sawyer felt her tense. No doubt she was frightened by his offer. But when she relaxed once more and simply sent him an anxious nod, he wanted to throw a fist in the air and yell the house down around them. Her silent kiss sealed the deal, at least as far as he was concerned. Time would tell if she’d risk opening her heart up to him.
Brea
* * *
Her skin was tingling from the amazing sex, the hot, steamy water, and the towel Sawyer had used to rub her dry. Standing naked in his bedroom, she looked at the clothes she’d worn two days ago, piled in the corner. When she wasn’t running around his house naked, she’d covered up with one of his flannel shirts. Frowning, she dragged on her dirty clothes.
“I’m going to run next door and grab something clean,” she called to Sawyer, who was still in the bathroom. “Can I use your spare key for Barbara’s house?”
Sawyer stepped into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and a toothbrush stuck in his mouth. Visions of living with a litany of men over the years flipped through her mind and sent an oily film of déjà vu sliding over her skin. Brea swallowed tightly as she watched him fish the keys from the pocket of his jeans. As he handed them to her, he pulled the toothbrush from his mouth.
“I’ll go over and water the gardens while you change.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you back at the truck.”
Sawyer nodded, then flashed her a foamy grin before puckering his lips to kiss her. Brea laughed and backed away. “Oh, no, you don’t. Go spit that out, then you can kiss me.”
“Uh-uh.”
He shook his head and started chasing her around the room, nearly choking on the toothpaste. She giggled and screamed for him to stay back as he wiggled his Crest-covered tongue at her. Brea raced into the hallway and down the stairs as his deep, rich laughter followed her out the door. She felt like a dolt for even thinking about the dreadful pricks from her past. Sawyer was nothing like them in any way. Thank god.
She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she donned clean clothes in the guest room of Barbara’s house. Never in her wildest dreams had Brea thought a man with Sawyer’s playful spirit existed. He was buckets full of crazy, in a good way, and every minute she spent with him was new and exciting. And the sex? Holy fuck! It was the best and most fulfilling of her life. She heard angels sing with every orgasm Sawyer dragged out of her. She’d never known she could be this happy or that life could be so grand.
As she zipped up her jeans, she imagined what forever with him would look like. Feel like. She wished she had a crystal ball so she could peek into the future, but she didn’t. She’d have to take one day at a time. Though she’d spent two nights with him, her things were still at Barbara’s and the ranch. Brea hadn’t moved in with the man, so that was progress, right?
“A slightly modified version of it.” She snorted at her own absurdity. “He even made the earth and stars collide, and I didn’t profess my undying love for him. That’s progress…huge progress.”
No, she hadn’t told Sawyer that she loved him, but she did. Still, Brea wasn’t ready to say the words. In her warped mind, she figured if she didn’t spill the beans, she could still control her emotions and protect her heart.
News flash…you’ve already lost your heart, mocked the voice in her head.
She frowned. “Okay, so I obviously still need to work on that blowing smoke up my own ass thing…but I’m working on it, dammit!” She tugged on her T-shirt and sighed. “Rome wasn’t b
uilt in a day, you know!”
She heard water running toward the back of the house. Surmising that Sawyer was taking care of the plants, Brea took a few extra minutes to blow-dry her hair. She didn’t bother with makeup. Ten minutes at the ranch and it would have melted off her face. She didn’t want to scare the poor kids by looking like a scary raccoon.
As she brushed her teeth, her stomach growled. But it was her need for caffeine that had her body screaming DEFCON one.
When she hurried downstairs, she didn’t hear the water running anymore but peered out the kitchen window, anyway. There was no sign of Sawyer, so she grabbed his keys off the coffee table and rushed out the front door. Brea was about to leap off the stairs when she spotted him…arms wrapped around a tall, willowy redhead standing next to a gleaming silver Mercedes convertible. Skidding to a halt on the wooden slats of Barbara’s porch, Brea pressed a palm to her crumbling heart and stared.
She couldn’t hear what they were saying, and in truth, she didn’t want to. Their body language said it all.
Unable to move, she watched Sawyer grip the redhead by the shoulders and stare into her eyes. Brea’s heart sputtered, then threatened to stop. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous, from the top of her perfectly coiffed hair to her designer clothes and shoes. She made the three bitches in Sawyer’s hot tub look like regurgitating mudskippers.
Barely able to breathe, she watched Sawyer flash the redhead a loving smile—the same one he’d used to draw Brea into his web of lies so he could crush her moronic, pitifully fantasies. Tears slid down her cheeks.
The woman reached up and cupped Sawyer’s face, then leaned in and kissed him. Kissed him with her collagen-filled lips.
As if slapped upside the head with a bag of dicks, Brea was consumed by a white-hot rage. Biting back a sob, she bolted off the porch and ran across the lawn as if the hounds of hell were nipping her heels. With Sawyer’s keys cupped in her hand, Brea raised her arm and launched the heavy ring at him. “Here’s your keys, you miserable piece of shit. I hope you fucking rot in hell.”
Sawyer turned. His eyes were as wide as saucers as the keys—clanging like chimes—sailed toward him, slamming into his crotch like a dart to a bull’s-eye. With a strangled cry, he doubled over and dropped to his knees.
Brea didn’t bother waiting around to see if he recovered. Common sense told her he would, eventually, especially when Miss America was already crouching beside him, rubbing his back and shooting daggers at Brea. Flipping the man-stealing bitch the middle finger, she raced back to her temporary house. Brea refused to let Sawyer see her crying like a four-year-old who’d just dropped her ice cream on the sidewalk. But the minute she reached for the doorknob, she realized her mistake in throwing the keys. She was locked out…again!
Anger overriding pain and humiliation, Brea kicked the door with her tennis shoe as tears spilled down her cheeks. She wanted to curl up into a little ball and disappear.
“Goddamn son of a bitch motherfucking men!” she screamed at the portal. “When the hell am I ever going to learn? When?”
Refusing to share any more of her heartache with Sawyer and his shiny new fuck toy, Brea made a beeline for the backyard. She couldn’t get inside the house, but she could hide…hide and sob and throw a righteous little temper tantrum without Sawyer having a front-row seat to her meltdown.
When she spotted an alcove between the vegetable and flower beds, Brea pushed the tall stalks aside and plopped down on the wet grass. How, in the span of fifteen minutes, had she and Sawyer gone from loving and laughing, to…
“I’m such a fucking idiot,” she wailed.
Drawing her knees to her chest, Brea lowered her head and cried.
Cried for foolishly thinking she could have a normal relationship with someone as wonderful as Sawyer.
Cried for letting her hopes and dreams run roughshod over common sense.
Cried for the little girl inside who’d spent her whole life searching for love.
“Brea!” Sawyer called in a snarl. “I know you’re back here, goddamn it. Where the fuck are you?”
She covered her mouth to muffle her sobs and tucked herself into a ball. Hopefully, if he couldn’t find her hiding place, he’d give up and go away. She wasn’t ready to face him yet…if ever. Brea needed time to lick her wounds and construct a thick, bitch barrier the deceitful prick couldn’t penetrate with his dazzling smile, loving caress, or toe-curling kisses.
“I know what you think you saw, thanks to the Ford logo imprinted on my dick!”
Good. I hope it’s branded there for life, you cheating, lying cock bag. I hope gangrene sets in and the damn thing rots off. It would serve you right. Asshole!
“It’s not what you think. You might as well show yourself, because I’m not leaving until we settle this misunderstanding, darlin’.”
Misunderstanding, my fat ass! And stop calling me, darlin’. I ain’t your darlin.’
This wasn’t Brea’s first Cheater Rodeo. She had no intention of letting Sawyer try and talk his way out of this. So like an oversized garden gnome, Brea remained hidden beneath the burgeoning brush, determined to keep her sorry ass planted in the wet grass. The only way she’d leave her refuge was if Sawyer grabbed a Weedwacker and cut down all the foliage…which he wouldn’t because Barbara would skin him alive.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
Thank god! He was leaving her to cling to the tattered threads of her wounded pride. No doubt, he was going to drag the pretty rich bitch with a three-hundred-thousand-dollar sports car, two-thousand-dollar Gucci outfit, forty-four triple-Z tits, and twenty-inch waist straight upstairs to his bedroom.
Suddenly, a blast of icy water doused the flames of her anger.
With a scream, Brea bolted upright as if her ass was spring-loaded. Sputtering, she raised her hands at the stream of water pummeling her face.
“There you are. I knew I’d find you.” There was a hint of laughter in Sawyer’s angry tone that Brea couldn’t miss. “Have you cooled off enough to have a rational conversation yet?”
Turning the nozzle away, he arched his brows. A mixture of irritation and humor danced in his golden-green eyes. Brea was all but certain flames of rage were leaping from hers. Though the morning sun was warm, she was soaked to the skin and shivering like mad. But that didn’t stop her from giving the prick with the hose a piece of her mind.
“Rational conversation?” she squawked. “You drown me in ice water and expect a rational conversation? Fuck you…you…asshole!”
“I’ve already fucked your asshole, darlin’, and it literally blew my mind.” An arrogant smirk tugged the edges of his mouth. “If you’ll simmer down so we can talk this out, we can enjoy it again.”
“In your dreams,” Brea hissed. “The only reason you’re not upstairs fucking the collagen out of Miss Mercedes is because you haven’t had time to change the goddamn sheets!”
Sawyer sent her a sympathetic smile that made her even more livid.
He slowly shook his head. “Brea, I wouldn’t take her to bed if she were the last woman on the planet.”
“Oh, spare me!” She threw her hands into the air. “I might have been naïve and stupid enough for you to play me once, but not a second time. Stop lying to me. You’ll fuck her stupid and we both know it.”
“No. I. Won’t.” He dropped the hose and ate up the distance between them in three long strides. “The woman you saw me with is Sara…my ex-wife.”
Brea’s mouth gaped open. Though he could have knocked her over with a feather, she felt as if Sawyer had just landed a right hook to the jaw.
The pageant queens in the hot tub… It all made sense now. Sawyer was bedding women who looked like his ex.
So why in the hell had he picked her? She looked nothing like Sara or the hot tub whores.
Brea’s stomach pitched as the knife of reality stabbed deep. She’d been nothing but a pity fuck. Big, fat tears welled in her eyes.
“Whatever is going through yo
ur head, I don’t think I like it. In fact, I’m two seconds from losing my shit.” Sawyer cupped her chin with a force that almost scared her. And when he pinned her with a probing stare that ripped her wide open, Brea trembled. “I don’t feel a thing for her anymore. I haven’t for years.”
“Liar! I saw her kiss her!” The pathetic wail tearing from her throat embarrassed Brea all the more.
“Come on, we’re going inside. You need dry clothes and I need to tell you what happened.”
“No. We’ll talk out here.”
“You’re freezing. We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”
She was and she did.
“I need to get my wet clothes off. You are going to wait in the kitchen.”
“Why? You don’t trust me?”
“No. I don’t trust myself.” The truth rolled off her lips faster than she could stop it.
“Fuck! I thought I’d helped you work past that.”
Helped? It kept getting more crushing by the second. Not only had he granted her a pity fuck—well, several, actually—but she’d been nothing more to him than a charity case.
Phe-fucking-nomenal.
Could it get any better or more priceless than this? Oh, wait. It could. He could have given her balloons and streamers for the pity party he’d been throwing her.
Following her to the back deck, Sawyer unlocked the door and headed toward the kitchen. “Go change. I’ll make us some coffee.”
Brea didn’t respond, simply turned and climbed the stairs. She wanted to lock herself inside her room, but Sawyer would likely kick the damn door down. And at the rate things were going, Barbara would be lucky if her adorable gingerbread house was even still standing when she came home.
Tearing off her wet clothes, Brea tossed them inside the shower and threw on some dry ones. The rich scent of coffee hit her halfway down the stairs. If Sawyer hadn’t been waiting, like an executioner, to talk—though as far as Brea was concerned, there was nothing left to say—she would have sprinted to the kitchen for a caffeine infusion.
When she rounded the corner, sitting on the table was a steaming mug of coffee, waiting for her. Sawyer’s sexy ass was poised on the edge of the counter, his muscular legs stretched out toward the fridge, with one boot-covered foot crossed over the other. He looked relaxed. And why shouldn’t he be? All he had to do was let her down easy with a bunch of platitudes he’d probably memorized by now.
