Page 30 of Sweet

“An ancient cure-all made by mummifying a cadaver in honey for a century. There’s still debate whether the ritual sacrifice existed or if the historical records are fictitious,” Bailey says to Jess despite keeping his eyes on me.

Bailey seems intrigued by my general knowledge again, but I cheated this time. Since he responded so well the first time, I’ve been reading everything and anything honey related to impress the world’s sweetest beekeeper.

Jess clears his throat at the end of the register, and Bailey finally tears his eyes away and looks over. “Town makes us charge for paper.”

“I can carry it. Thanks.” And Bailey pulls the mesh bag toward him before shoving his wallet back into his pockets. “See you guys Sunday.”

The minute Bailey leaves, Jess checks the clock and locks the door behind him. Officially our last customer of the day. I pull the drawer out of the register and carry the whole thing to the small office. Jess can finish in there, and I’ll do everything else out here. Keys still in hand, Jess opens the office door, and I set my drawer on the desk. And then he’s all over me.

His lips immediately seek mine, begging me for attention. Jess sighs against my mouth while his fingers dig into my back toforce me even closer. With each returned kiss, he leans more into me until his cock brushes mine through our jeans.

“We’ll be at my house in thirty minutes or less,” I snicker.

“Too long.” Jess grabs my belt buckle and his hand’s in my pants in an instant. He certainly knows how to be persuasive.

When I don’t fight his suggestion but shift my clothes away instead, he’s nothing but rushed movements. First whipping his cock out, then stroking ours together so the entire length of his shaft rubs against mine. A soft pant escapes while his lips hover against mine, but he’s focusing less on my mouth and more on my eyes. When I drift away, Jess calls me back.

“Look at me.” My gaze locking on to him pulls a moan from his depths. “I don’t want you looking anywhere else.”

Fuck, if making him jealous gets this result, I’m doing it all the time. “What if someone looks at me?” I tease further.

“I’ll make sure he can’t again.” Not the sexiest sentence, unless said like a breathy promise while on the brink of coming.

Instantly, I’m reminded of what Cas told me earlier this week about shoving anyone between me and him off a bridge. That thought, of someone matching my obsession with their own darkness, gets me to come.

Chapter thirteen

Cas

I’ve come to the realization that Will may actually like me. Maybe even more someday—like love. Yet, what startles me the most about this is how badly I want all of it. I want him to love me madly and to be the sole object of his desire until the day he dies. And really, that’s something even I always considered unachievable. It’s how my bad habit started. Meet the right guy. Feed our obsession. Then end things before he loses interest. He stays mine forever that way.

But with Will, it’s different. I’m still not sure how or even why, but usually when a guy I’ve fixated on wavers even slightly, I get annoyed. Almost enraged, even. With Will, the feeling builds in complexity. I start to fret. I never do that. Never before have I given a damn aside from the waste of time and effort on my part. And yet, with Will…

I feel myself slipping. Caring more than I should. Making idiotic decisions fueled by emotion. And instead of being annoyed when he doesn’t respond the way I want to me jerking his chain, I become jealous of whatever distraction is breathingin the same room as him. I want him—need him—focusing solely on me. Not having that just may be what tips me over the edge.

When Will doesn’t attempt to call on Friday night, my stomach churns. Not so much from missing out on a good time or even wondering what he’s doing, but convincing myself this is it. He’s lost interest. Can’t expect him to stay satisfied with our exchanges forever. He’s going to want more, eventually. That much is not only natural and expected, but inevitable. Hewillwant more. And when he can’t have it, he’ll fade away. Maybe I really do need to move on sooner than I want.

My phone in my hands, my fingers hover above the screen while I consider my words. Not that I’m going to send anything past midnight, but I like drafting these things ahead of time. Rehearsing conversations and interactions is something I often need to do, which makes communication over a phone all the easier. My phone dings in my hand.

Purple Puppy:I’m sorry I didn’t call again.

Purple Puppy:And I’m sorry I didn’t warn you ahead of time like I usually do.

Orchid Mantis:It’s okay.

Purple Puppy:Is it, really?

No, not really. Never going to admit that, though. Not to myself, nor to him.

Orchid Mantis:Everyone gets busy. Stuff slips their mind. It happens.

Purple Puppy:I didn’t forget. I could never forget something I look forward to all day.

Purple Puppy:Busy comes closer to what happened.

Orchid Mantis:Smart best friend, again?

Purple Puppy:Yeah…

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