Page 2 of Always Heated

Except we’re not in high school anymore. I’ll be twenty-four next month, haven’t had sex in almost a year—by myself with my vibrating toys doesn’t count—and Travis has been with enough women to know what he’s doing in bed. If ever there was a moment to say “fuck it,” this would be it.

One night, no strings attached is Travis’ specialty. I’ve poured drinks for his broken hearted fuck-du-jour women to know exactly what I would be getting into. It isn’t as if he would want more… and Cay would never need to know.

Fishing out the rogue cherry that escaped my spear, I pop it in my mouth, and after a moment ask, “Want to get out of here?” He’s mid-sip and sputters a cough. “Are you okay? Don’t make me Heimlich you if?—”

“What do you mean by ‘get out of here?’ Because when I say it, it means you’re coming home with me and riding my face until you’re begging for my cock.”

“Travis!” I whisper-shout. “Someone might hear you.”

He finishes his whiskey and tosses down forty dollars on the bar. Offering his hand, he purrs, “If you want to get out of here, you’re driving.”

After taking a quick glance around the bar, I nod, and as I place my hand in his. A warm, fuzzy feeling tingles throughout my body; I love and hate it.

Travis leads me to his pickup and every part of me is screaming to run the other direction. Nothing good can come from fucking Travis… except mind blowing orgasms. If my brother ever found out, he’d murder Travis, regardless of whether or not I am a willing participant or not.

Meaningless sex. I can do this.

travis

. . .

Ican’t have a one-night stand with Cass.

Just because Caleb fucked Cassidy’s best friend, Ingrid, back in high school, doesn’t mean I have a free pass to sleep with his sister. I shouldn’t have flirted with Cass. Maybe it’s the whiskey… No. It’s the fact that I’ve always wanted her, but she’s off-limits.

I wish I was driving, at least my hands would be busy and not tempted to slip my fingers into her pants, making her come so hard she nearly crashes my truck.

I’m in literal hell.

Cass has the right idea, white-knuckling the steering wheel at ten and two. “This is a bad idea, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” I admit. “Which is why you’re going to drop me at my place, then drive yourself home. I’ll get my truck in the morning.” The suggestion has every part of me protesting, despite my better judgment.

“It’s your birthday.” She sighs, shaking her head. “I’m not going to drop your drunk ass home and leave you.”

I don’t have a snappy comeback, and Cass is a woman of her word; I’ll be dropped off to Ashlyn at the sheriff's department sooner than seeing my own doorstep. Instead of turning right toward my place, she continues straight, then left onto her street. It’s clear where we’re headed, but I ask anyway, “Where are we going?”

“You can crash on my couch after we get very drunk and stay up late watching a movie. I peg you for a suspense guy, but I should force you against your will to watch a romantic comedy. Torture on your birthday feels appropriate.”

“Torture?” I laugh. “What did I do to deserve it?”

“Existing.” Cass’ expression is void of all emotion, and I begin combing through my memories to figure out how I wronged her. Nothing comes to mind.

My brows pinch. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” She doesn’t answer as she parks the truck in her driveway. This is bullshit. I’m not a fucking idiot and know my reputation. Does she want this as much as I do? I try again, “Why would I deserve to be tortured, merely by existing?”

“Because you’ve fucked every woman in Sapphire Lake,” she snaps, and my heart stops. “Every time, I have to sit back, watching it happen, knowing you’d never touch me. Shit, Travis, you have to know what that does to a woman’s self-esteem.”

“Are you serious? You think I wouldn’t touch you? Fine. You want the truth? Get ready, Cass, because you’re not going to like it! You’re Caleb’s sister.” I rub my hand down my face. “You deserve better than anything I can offer. The other women were just a good time; one night with no strings attached. You? You’reallthe strings. You’re the girl you bring home to Mom and Dad, the girl you settle down with, the girl who would force me to grow up.”

“You’re impossible.” Cass snatches her purse from the floorboard next to my feet, and climbs out of the truck, slamming the door behind her. Here I thought I was complimenting her, but yet again, I fucked things up.

I rush out of the truck and follow her into the house. While I’ve been here dozens of times, never at night, and definitely not the two of us… alone. Soft moonlight peeps through the windows, lighting the path to her kitchen. There’s a clang of my keys hitting the marble counter, followed by a thump of her purse. Truly, I have no fucking clue why she’s pissed, it isn’t as if I ever stood a chance with her.

When I reach the dark kitchen, the only additional light comes from the open fridge where Cass is bent over, rummaging for something. She pulls out a beer and a bottle of water, then kicks the door shut with her heel, leaving is in near darkness. Without a word or acknowledgment, she uses the bottle opener on my keys to pop the cap off the beer. After a long pull, she sets the bottle down with enough force to cause foam to overflow.

“Fuck!” Cass grabs the kitchen towel, while I remain immovable. She’s a wildcat—if I make a wrong move, she’ll claw my fucking eyes out and feast on me for dinner. Not in a sexy way with those pouty lips wrapped around my cock; I’ll be a shell of a man. If I remain perfectly still, she’ll forget why she’s pissed at me.

Tossing the damp towel onto the counter in a huff, she lets out a defeated sigh, then braces herself on the cool marble. I’m not drunk, and wish I was even slightly buzzed. I have no excuse for taking the six steps it takes to cross the kitchen and pull her to me. I don’t dare ask if she’s all right, clearly she’s not.

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