‘That’s it, Blue,’ Sawyer hums, pressing kisses along my shoulder. ‘Let go. I got you, sweetheart.’
His words push me, and I call out behind his hand, ‘Sawyer!’
I’m freefalling in ecstasy as fireworks explode throughout my core, sparkling further into my whole body. Sawyer doesn’t stop, thrusting his fingers into me to elongate my climax until I’m completely spent and weary in his arms, my body looser than I thought possible. It’s bright and brilliant, a height of pleasure I’ve never reached before. I’m not sure how long we stay like that, Sawyer still lazily stroking me until I come down from my high.
I’m looser than I’ve felt in years.
‘Thank you,’ I whisper as Sawyer slowly slips his fingers out of me, his other arm sliding away from me, leaving my body cold and needy. When I turn to face him, he holds the hand that played with me out to the side, his fingers drenched in my arousal, and he just stares at me, jaw tight, eyes glassy.
I can’t get a read on him. He almost looks … pained.
That’s when my eyes dip down, to where he’s straining against his underwear, and another rush of heat strikes me. The need for more of him is almost overpowering, the ropes I’ve tied my past feelings down with fraying, trying to entice me with the promise ofmaybe this time.
But I can’t listen. I fell for his devotion, the safety he gave me, once before and look where that got us. Pain andheartbreak. And things were easier back then—we didn’t have children and careers and rational minds to remind us that it’s just a fantasy.
‘This—’ I worry my lip as I try to muster up the words which I know I’ll regret butneedto say. I glance away—from the chestnut eyes that will convince me to fall again for him. ‘This can’t mean anything. I meant what I said before—I don’t have time for anything.’
Sawyer regards me for a silent moment, light dimming from his eyes. Then he just throws on that smirk of his—the one I know is only for show, and says, ‘You know me, Blue. I don’t do serious. Just wanted to make you feel good. Just a friend helping out a friend, right?’
I’m not sure if I don’t believe him or if I don’t want to believe him. Either way, it’s a bittersweet victory for me, despite the sharp blow his words land to my stomach—it’s the right thing to do, even if I wish it wasn’t so. I have enough to take care of, and having to unpack nine years of regret isn’t going to make me less tense.
Finally, he clears his throat and says, ‘You should get some sleep, Honey. Hopefully that’ll help.’ Then he walks back inside the house, the gentle click of his bedroom door shutting sounds and I’m left with the cold, stark reminder that my body has never felt more safe, more cared for, than when I’ve been in Sawyer’s arms. And I just let him walk away.
18
Sawyer
To say this week has been strained would be an understatement. I crossed a line last weekend on the back deck. A line Honey instantly pushed me back over, reminding me we could never mean anything again. Even if she did ride my hand so willingly and cry my name as she came …
Fuck. I’m such an idiot. I should’ve never been so reckless. Yet the opportunity to help her, to touch her and give her the pleasure she deserves that might finally stop her sighing was handed on a plate to me and my self-control unravelled immediately. And what did it get me? A week of Honey hardly looking at or talking to me.
I had a visit from my agent, and my friend, Boone, this week, encouraging me to finally attend some of the PBR events now the season has restarted. Personally, I’d rather shovel horse shit for the rest of my life than let everyone see how weak I still am. But with Noah having a sleepover at Honey’s mom’s this weekend too, getting the hell out ofWillow Ridge so that me and Honey aren’t stuck in this house alone together is best for both of us.
I’m leaning against the kitchen counter, checking my phone as I wait for Wolfman’s text letting me know that he’s on his way to pick me up to spend our Friday night at Duke’s bar like usual. Even if the rest of the gang isn’t around tonight. Rory and Wyatt are still working hard on the retreat until just before Thanksgiving when they’ll close, and Duke’s visiting Cherry, his girlfriend and Wyatt’s younger sister, at college.
My phone pings with Wolfman’s message just as the clack of heels echoes towards the kitchen and I look up as Honey walks through the archway. The last remnants of the amber sunset beam through the long windows, showering her in a faint golden light that glitters around her edges and her hair that she’s twisted into a braid and draped over one shoulder. The floaty, layered white dress she’s wearing does nothing to dispel her angelic likeness in the sunset’s glow. It also accentuates her curves in all the right places—her hips looking too damn grabbable right now.
This is why I need to be out tonight.
An adorable huff of frustration filters from her as she fails to fasten a golden chain around her neck while she walks, struggling because she can’t see where the clasp is going.
I kick into action immediately, and drop my phone on the counter as I limp over. ‘Here, let me.’
Her eyes flash at me, clearly so distracted she hadn’t even noticed me hovering in the kitchen. ‘Oh, um, thank you. The clasp is a bit broken.’
As she turns around, I can’t help my gaze fromraking over her sweet body, heat pouring through me remembering how good she felt in my hands but quickly snap out of it when she checks over her shoulder. I take the ends of the necklace from her fingers, trying to ignore the way my skin tingles at even the briefest touch between our fingertips.
Does she feel that electricity too?
A few wispy strands of hair that didn’t quite make the braid fall over the back of her neck, so I lean down and blow them out of the way to make sure they don’t get caught. Honey’s soft gasp fills the silent kitchen as gooseflesh breaks out across her shoulders. Memories of that last time she made that sweet sound while my hand was down her pyjama pants agonisingly weave their way into my mind.
I try to ignore her reaction and focus on opening the clasp of the necklace that keeps sticking. The cool metal is a stark contrast to the heat crawling over my skin, as I struggle to fight my gaze from admiring the curve of her neck. Where my lips had been.
Honey’s shoulders rise and fall with more laboured breaths as I finally get the clasp to stay open wide enough to loop it through the chain. I hold onto the necklace for longer than necessary once it’s clasped just because I’m selfish and I don’t want to let her go yet.
When I finally adjust the necklace so it falls neatly against her golden skin, I glance up, eyes catching on the large mirror above the fireplace opposite us where Honey’s piercing eyes reflect back at me. Eyes locked for what feels like an eternity in this silent house, my fingertips still hovering on the backof her neck, I wonder how often she thinks about that night. The last time I was behind her like this.
‘You never wear your hair down,’ I state, trying to find something to say.