Page 85 of Strike Zone

I want to see his eyes. They tell me so much. His brown eyes turn dark when he’s aroused and have a little glow when he’s happy. Other than the outline of a grin and dip of his cheeks from his dimples, I’m clueless.

He collapses on top of me in a sweaty heap. I welcome the pressure. I can blame the heaviness I feel on his body weight and not the emotions I have swirling through me from having sex with my best friend.

I’ve always treated the act of intercourse as procedural. There were steps. The final step of getting dressed always occurs immediately after the climax, then we say goodbye and don’t speak until our next hook-up.

It worked for me. It kept everything clean and easy. When the situationship ran its course, there was no love lost. We went on with our lives as if nothing happened.

There is no walking away from this—from him. My fingers comb through Wyatt’s hair as we catch our breaths. His lips rest on my shoulder. One of his hands tenderly rubs circles on my side.

Once you have a man like Wyatt Rivers in your grasp, you cling to him as tight as you can and hope you are strong enough to last for the whole ride.

22

WYATT

“Well, well, well, look who the cat drug in. Did you and your little bird have a nice night?” Colt starts in on Wren and me before we’ve made it one step into the kitchen.

“We did,” Wren answers with a gleeful smile. “Wyatt gave me five orgasms,” she whisper-shouts, making Colt choke on his sandwich. I kiss the top of her head, laughing.

“I think it was more like six.” We had sex one more time before we fell asleep and then I woke her up at some point in the middle of the night to do it a third time. I couldn’t keep my hands off of her.

Wren uninhibited is a world wonder. Her begging for me and the feeling of being inside her was too much. I had to keep a slow pace so I wouldn’t climax before I even had a chance to enjoy being inside her. That’s never happened to me before.

We headed home when our stomachs started growling too much to be ignored any longer. The paths were still slick and muddy from the rain. We made it back a little dirty, but in one piece.

She starts counting her fingers. “I think you’re right. It was six. Four and five kind of blend together since you did that thing with your tongue,” Wren says, passing me the mayo and mustard from the fridge as if this is an ordinary conversation.

“This is too much information,” Colt grumbles.

“Why so bitter? Lenny’s teacher still not paying you enough attention?” I pass Wren four pieces of bread. She spreads mayo and mustard on them, then slides the plates over to me. I add the meat and cheese. Then she adds lettuce to her sandwich and tomato to mine.

We work in sync cleaning everything up and putting it away. She takes both plates to the table while I grab our drinks.

Colt stares at us dumbfounded. “How long have the two of you been together again?”

“A few months,” I answer.

At the same time Wren says, “We’re not together.”

“What I mean is we’ve been friends for a few months. But Wren’s right. We’re not together.” Why is that difficult to admit? We went over this last night and decided to be friends with benefits. And boy are there benefits.

“Right. I’m going to go join Dad and Ford in the barn. His picker friends are here. I want to see if he’s going to win the bet.”

“What bet?” Wren asks.

“Dad bet he could make a grand off all that scrap metal in the barn. If he wins, he gets to take his woman out in the Gator,” I explain.

“And now you know what happens when a Rivers man takes his girl out on the Gator.” Colt winks. “Are you going to do any work today or are you taking the day off?”

“I’m working. What do we need to do?”

“Ask the boss.” Colt nods to Wren.

“I’m not the boss, Colt.” She rolls her eyes. “Willow mentioned something yesterday about moving some of the seedlings from the greenhouse to the fields on the east side.”

“That’s outside,” I tease Wren.

“I can handle it.”

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