by Kaylin Evans
Home, I muse as I carry our first round of beers over from the bar. She’s in my apartment right now, and it doesn’t freak me out nearly as much as I thought it would to think of it as ours. At least for as long as she needs it to be.
“What’s that look all about?” Finn asks when I set the beers down on our table.
“What look?”
“That goofy little grin on your face,” he says, not letting me weasel out of it.
“There’s no grin,” I say.
“There’s a grin,” Caleb answers.
Okay, fine… I shrug and say, as casually as possible, “Alyssa’s staying at my place for the time being. She’s having some family problems so I let her crash with me.”
“Crash, huh?” Caleb says, giving me a knowing smirk.
Thankfully, though, Finn takes the bait and asks, “What kind of family problems? I thought she moved here alone.”
“She did,” I say. “I guess her dad found her, though.” And all of a sudden, I realize I have no idea how much of this she’d want me telling the guys. It’s her story, not mine, so I should probably shut my trap. “It’s not really for me to say more, you know?”
Caleb nods. He’s the tightest-lipped guy I know, so I’m not surprised he isn’t pushing for more information.
Finn, on the other hand, asks, “Is she in danger?”
“Not physically,” I say. At least, I don’t think so. The truth is, I don’t know a whole lot about her dad either, except that he’s a Grade A scumbag.
“Well, if there’s anything we can do to help,” Finn says, “let us know.”
“Thanks,” I say, then take a long drink.
I’ve never been one for getting all mushy and emotional, especially in front of a group of guys, but it’s pretty nice to know I can lean on these two. I really haven’t known them all that long, but Hemlock Hills and the people I’ve met here have quickly become my home, my family.
Still, I’m not gonna spend all night braiding these dudes’ hair or anything. I say, “Either of you on the market for a slightly crazy blonde surg tech? I swear Trish was about to claw Alyssa’s eyes out when she saw us together earlier—that chick needs to get laid by any man who isn’t me.”
Caleb curls his lip. “Are you shopping around your sloppy seconds?”
I hold a hand up. “No way, never touched her. She’s cute, though, and she talks a lot so she might be good for you, man of few words.”
“Pass,” he says. “Sounds too intense for me.”
“Who is your kind of girl?” Finn asks Caleb, and I lean in, wanting to hear the answer.
I’ve been out with these guys at least a dozen times over the last year and I still haven’t figured Caleb out. Is he even into women? Is he into anyone? So far all we know is that he’s a great doctor, he’s pretty good at darts, and he can put away beers with the best of them.
He just shrugs and says, “Well, that Alyssa chick is pretty cute.”
Okay, and he has a sense of humor.
I punch his shoulder. “Don’t you dare. She’s mine.”
25
Alyssa
It’s a little after midnight and I’m curled up in one of Sawyer’s Adirondack chairs out on the balcony, sipping a cup of lavender tea. I’m already in my pajamas—a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized T-shirt—and this is pretty much what I’d be doing right now if I was back at my place. Only it’s just occurring to me that my comfy, non-sexy pajamas and the messy bun I’ve got my hair pulled into are probably not what Sawyer would want to see if he walked through the door right now.
We’ve only had sex a handful of times, and basically just got over hating each other’s guts at work. And now my family drama is spilling over into his life and I’m staying at his place, looking like we’ve been together for a thousand years.
And we’re not even together like that. Are we?
Part of me wants to get up and change into something slinky and silky, and let my hair down and run a comb through it so that when Sawyer gets back from the bar, he’s not greeted by a hot mess.
But another part of me, a more insistent part, stays put right where she is in the Adirondack chair because I’ve never been the type to try hard to impress a man, or be who I’m not. Right now I’m comfortable, and I’m about to go to bed. Is that such a bad thing?
“No, it’s not,” I tell myself aloud.
And just as I’ve talked myself out of that mini-panic, I hear a knock on the apartment door. Another little jolt of oh my gosh, you’re not even wearing makeup! rushes through me and I tell that voice to shut the hell up, then I twist in my chair to look toward the door.
“Sawyer?” I call, frowning. “Did you forget your key?”
I’m pretty sure he had his keyring in his hand when he left for the bar, but if he got drunk with the guys, who knew what happened in the meantime. Maybe one of them took his keys so he wouldn’t be tempted to drive home.
There’s another knock, harder this time, and I get up. “Coming!”
When I get to the door, I check the peephole and a curse escapes my lips before I even realize it’s coming. My dad is standing in the hallway outside Sawyer’s apartment.
“Hey, honey,” he calls. “I can see your shadow through the peephole. I know you’re there.”
“Okay, but what are you doing here?” I ask.
“Can’t a dad come visit his daughter?”
The freakin’ nerve. The first time he showed up, I was anxious. This time, I’m just mad. I ball my hands into fists and say, “No, we already discussed this. A dad can’t just come visit his daughter when the dad is an addict who has repeatedly destroyed both his children’s lives, as well as his own. On top of that, it’s midnight and this isn’t even my apartment.”
The unspoken question, the one that’s been nagging me since he first showed up in Hemlock Hills: How did you find me, anyway?
Before I can ask, and before my dad can make any attempts to excuse his presence, I hear Sawyer’s voice booming in the hallway. “Hey, who’re you?”
“You must be the boyfriend,” my dad says.
I can’t see anything through the peephole anymore. He’s moved away from the door, and I’m craning my neck, but all I see is an empty hallway. “Sawyer?” I call.
“Alyssa, are you okay?” he calls back. His voice sounds a little loose, like he was drunk but sobering fast now that there’s a strange man standing outside his apartment.
“I’m fine,” I say. “That’s my dad.”
“Stay in the apartment,” Sawyer says. “I’ll handle this.”
And a wave of relief washes over me because I know that he will. I can hear the two of them talking, but they’ve lowered their voices and I can’t make any of it out anymore. Frustrated, and feeling safe knowing that Sawyer is just on the other side of the door, I slide the chain off and open it about a foot—just enough to peek my head out.
“This is between my daughter and me,” my dad is saying.
“That might be true if you weren’t trespassing in my apartment building,” Sawyer says. “I think you need to go—and not just out of the building.”
Anger flashes across my dad’s face. “Are you telling me to get lost?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Sawyer says. “From what I’ve heard about you, there aren’t a whole lot of redeeming qualities that make you a father worth keeping around.”
“Excuse me?” my dad practically screeches, and suddenly his fists are up. “You can’t talk to me like that!”
“Dad!” I shout, stepping into the hall. “Stop.”
“Alyssa, tell your boyfriend this is no way to endear himself to your father,” he says. “This man needs to learn to respect his elders.”
“Only when those elders are worth respecting,” Sawyer spits back. His own hands are still at his sides, but I can see a tension in his muscles that isn’t usually there. He’s ready for a fight if it comes to that, and God, I do not want to see my father
and the man I’m sleeping with duke it out in the hallway in the middle of the night.
Please don’t let this become a Jerry Springer episode, I pray to no one in particular. “Dad–”
“Go back inside, Alyssa,” Sawyer tells me, his eyes pleading. I can tell he’s nervous for me, even though with all the horrible things my dad has done, he’s never raised a hand to me or my sister.
I step back into the apartment, but I don’t shut the door. “Dad, just go. Please.”
“I’ll see you out,” Sawyer tells him through gritted teeth.
He holds out a hand, gesturing toward the stairwell because he probably doesn’t want to wind up standing in a tiny elevator with my dad, and I let out a relieved breath when he actually starts walking. He must have done the math in his head and realized that he wasn’t going to win this round, and he lets Sawyer march him toward the stairs.
As they pass me, Sawyer gives me a comforting look and says, “I’ll be right back up. Lock the door behind you, please.”
And this time, I do.
26
Sawyer
I lead Alyssa’s dad outside, around the front of the building on the opposite side from the direction my apartment faces because I don’t want this going down in her earshot. Nobody should have a shitty dad like this guy, but even if they do, they shouldn’t have to witness him getting his ass handed to him like I’m about to do.
I’m spitting mad and still just the slightest bit drunk, and the bullshit is stopping now.
The minute we’re on the sidewalk, I grab him by the back of his shirt and spin him to face me. “Okay, dude, how the hell did you find her?”
He shrugs, like he’s still not taking me seriously. “It ain’t that big a town.”
“I mean, how did you find her in the first place?” I demand. “Because she obviously didn’t want to be found by you.”
“She’s my daughter,” he says. “She doesn’t get to hide from me.” When I just keep staring him down, waiting for an answer, he says, “It’s not like she’s using a false identity. I looked her up online and she’s right there on the staff page for the hospital.”
Damn. It shouldn’t be that easy to find somebody. I’m gonna have to talk to Ryder about that the next time I’m at work.
“Well, she made it clear that she doesn’t want you here,” I say. “Did you get the message?”
He gives me a look like he’s about to come up with some more bullshit, so I take a step closer to him, standing a little taller and making myself as imposing as possible. He puts up his hands. “Yeah, loud and clear… asshole.”
“I’m not the asshole here,” I tell him. “But you will find out just how big an asshole I can become if I ever catch you pestering Alyssa again—showing up, calling, contacting her in any way—and I sure as hell will make you sorry if I find out you’re messing with her finances again. Got it?”
“Jesus, somebody’s got too much testosterone.”
“I’ve got just the right amount to protect the people I love,” I say. I get right up in his face and grab his shirt again to make sure he looks me dead in the eyes. “Don’t fuck with Alyssa… or Taylor, for that matter. And you better get the hell out of Hemlock Hills tonight and never set foot here again–”
“Okay, okay, Christ, I get it,” he says, squirming in my grasp.
“Do you?”
He nods, looking sufficiently freaked. I let him go and he stumbles, then turns and starts walking up the sidewalk. I hear him grumbling something under his breath—calling me worse than asshole this time—but I let it go. I just stand there watching, making damn sure he leaves.
And when he’s finally out of my sight, I sit down right there on the sidewalk, my heart hammering in my chest as I replay the entire conversation. The thing I keep tripping over is the part where I said I loved Alyssa… and now that the adrenaline rush has stopped, I know that it’s still true.
When I get back upstairs, Alyssa is waiting right behind the door. She wrenches it open before I have a chance to reach for my keys, and she’s rattling off a million questions.
“What happened? Where’s my dad? What did you say to him?”
“I took care of it,” I tell her. “I told him where the hell to get off, and he’s not going to bother you ever again, I promise.”
And then I take her head in my hands, bring her lips to my own as I walk her backward until her back is pressed up against the wall. My cock presses insistently into the softness between her legs and I’ve never wanted her more. But first…
“I have something to tell you,” I say.
“Yes?”
“Alyssa, I love you.”
The whole apartment goes silent for a few seconds as she looks into my eyes, and I wonder if she’s about to tell me that I’m crazy, or push me away.
Instead, after what feels like an eternity, I feel her body swelling away from the wall to meet mine. She presses herself against me and holds me tight, saying, “I love you too, Sawyer.”
I blink. “You do?”
She laughs. “What did you expect, a rejection?”
“Sort of,” I admit. “But I just had to say it.”
“Thank you,” she answers. “For taking care of me, and getting my dad out of here… and taking the leap.”
“You’re worth leaping for,” I tell her, and then my arms are around her, I’m dragging her thighs up around my waist, my cock is throbbing between her legs. “I want you so much, Alyssa. Forever.”
“So take me,” she breathes into my ear, and it sends an incredible shiver through my whole body.
God damn, you don’t have to tell me twice.
I lift her off the wall and walk her to the kitchen island. It’s only a few steps away and I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to wait any longer than that. I set her down on the counter and she lets out a little yelp as the cool marble touches her bare skin.
“Cold,” she whines, squirming against me, but I don’t let her down.
I press my hips into hers, my cock teasing at her entrance even through multiple layers of fabric, and I bury my face in the curve of her neck. Kissing her, inhaling her scent, craving her. “I’ll warm you up, baby,” I promise as my hands explore her thighs. “But first, what is this that you’re wearing?”
“Oh my God,” she groans, and not in a sexy way—in an embarrassed way. “I was just bumming around the apartment. I figured I’d be in bed before you got home tonight.”
I take a step back, just far enough to really drink her in. The little ruffle on the bottom of her pajama shorts, the fact that they’re so tiny I keep getting glimpses of the pink panties beneath them, the oversized T-shirt that reveals one smooth shoulder—this outfit is anything but ‘bummy’.
“I think you look drop-dead gorgeous in anything… and nothing,” I tell her.
“You don’t have to lie–” she says, but her sentence gets cut off mid-word as I snake one hand up under her shorts and nudge her panties aside. I massage her clit with my thumb while my fingers explore her wetness, and she becomes liquid in my embrace.
“I’d never lie to you,” I say. My cock is throbbing merely at the knowledge of how wet her pussy is for me. I want her so damn bad, but the only thing I want more is to watch her come completely undone right here on my kitchen island.
My fingers plunge deeper into her, curling against her G-spot and making her cry out. She braces herself against the counter as I pump my fingers inside her.
“Oh, Sawyer,” she gasps, her hips rocking against my hand, “oh my God, I need you.”
“You’ve got me,” I say. In one swift movement I yank her T-shirt over her head and then I unhook the tiny, lacy bralette she’s wearing. I barely miss a stroke inside her tight, wet pussy, and she arches her back and clamps her thighs around my hand when I bring my mouth down to suck on her nipple.
“No,” she whines, “inside me. I need you to fuck me.”
My cock jumps at that, liking the idea very much. But not m
ore than I’m enjoying this little impromptu torture. I graze my teeth gently over the tender bud of her nipple, then say, “I’m going to fuck you senseless. But before you come on my cock, you’re gonna come all over my hand. You’re gonna scream my name so loud the neighbors will hear, and you’re gonna beg me to bend you over this counter and give it to you good and hard.”
“I’m already there,” she breathes, barely getting the words out. “Sawyer, please!”
Her fists tighten around the edge of the counter and she’s bucking against my hand now, taking what she needs just as much as she’s allowing me to pleasure her. God, she’s so fucking hot, her tits bouncing with every thrust and her eyes squeezed shut as she desperately works herself against my hand.
“Like this?” I ask, thrusting a little faster.
“Mmm, yes!” She grinds her hot little pussy against my hand. “Right there, oh Sawyer, don’t stop!”
Her pussy contracts powerfully against me and she throws her arms around my shoulders, clinging to me as she comes. Her whole body shakes as she gives herself over to the most powerful orgasm I’ve given her yet. She’s moaning and moving wantonly against me, and by the time she’s gasping and limp, my cock is as hard as it’s ever been.
I tangle my fingers in her hair and lift her head so I can whisper in her ear, “Now… now I’m gonna fuck that sweet little pussy.”
“It’s yours,” she groans, the words coming out with an almost feline quality, like I’ve finger-fucked her until she was feral. “I’m all yours.”
I lift her off the counter and she’s so blissed out from that first orgasm that she’s like a ragdoll in my arms. We’re just getting started tonight, though—there’s plenty more where that came from. I spin her around and drape her over the counter, her bare breasts pressed against the marble, but by now she’s so hot it feels good, I’m sure.
She spreads both hands on the marble in anticipation and I quickly undress behind her. Then I take my cock in my hand and tease her soaking wet entrance, getting myself nice and slick with her juices before I slide in.
