Page 18 of Claiming Ours
“Holy fuck, you’re good at that,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Every time we’ve made out, I have been so turned on, but I couldn’t….” She trailed off and flicked an avoidant gaze toward the driver’s seat.
“Hey, it’s okay. I?—”
“Dean is the only guy I’ve ever done anything with.” She peeked at me out of the corner of her eye. “Anything,” Baylee emphasized. She paused, waiting for me to catch on to something, but I had no fucking clue what she was alluding to. “I’m saying you’re only the second guy I’ve ever kissed, Liam.” Pride swelled in my chest, and I fought the instinct to pump my fist in the air like an idiot. “And you’re fantastic at it.”
She bit her lip, clearly not done sharing. Careful to not break the moment, I stayed perfectly still, only my nostrils flaring with each deep breath. Maybe it made me a terrible asshole, allowing her to spill all this while intoxicated and vulnerable, but… no one ever said I was a good guy.
“I don’t deserve your patience,” she said with a heavy exhale. “But I need it for a little longer.”
“You’ll have it as long as you need,” I promised.
Her eyes rolled to the roof. “Guys have needs that need to be met. Hell,Ihave needs.”
My brows shot up over my forehead at that tidbit. “Oh yeah?” She nodded. “Do tell, Little Bit. Tell me about these needs of yours.”
Yep, it was official. I was a terrible asshole.
“After you leave my place, I have to take care of myself with these?—”
Nope.
Fuck. Abort mission.
No man on this planet had enough resistance to hear his girl talk about playing with herself and not fuck her right then.
I jerked back, the back of my head connecting with the edge of the roof with a loud thump. A string of curses flew out as I rubbed at the sore spot while squinting up at the clouds like they were the ones that caused me pain. Fuck the long-ass daylight hours here in Alaska. I never needed the cover of night like I did now to hide my flushed face and tented jeans.
A honeyed giggle had me narrowing a fake frustrated expression at Baylee, who hid a wide smile behind a couple of fingers hovering over her curved lips.
“You think that’s funny?” I grumbled, still massaging the pain away from my skull.
She nodded. “Just my yummy Tootsie Pop.”
Groaning, I made sure she was fully tucked into the truck before slamming the door shut. I needed that physical barrier before I bent her over the tailgate and fucked her until her screams echoed through town and everyone knew she was mine.
My footsteps stuttered at that thought. I gave my head a hard shake and forced myself to continue to the driver’s side. Nothing good would come from giving in to temptation tonight.
She needed to feel safe with me while she was this vulnerable and so damn adorable. I’d rather carve out my heart with a rusted spoon than do anything to jeopardize how she viewed me.
A Tootsie Pop and cinnamon roll.
My chest vibrated with a deep chuckle as I folded my tall frame behind the wheel.
Only the amazing, brilliant, and utterly precious woman beside me would ever say that about me. If I were honest with myself, I fucking loved it.
But more than anything, it made me want to be the man she believed me to be.
6
MEMPHIS
Shoulder pressed against the side of the faded pink building, I watched as the cool-as-hell late model Ford disappeared down the road, taking Baylee with it. I shook my head, still chuckling to myself at the entertaining shit show that I enjoyed the last couple of hours. And that grand finale when all their drunk asses were hauled out by several men was unexpected and hysterical. The women appeared to trust the men who came for them, or I would’ve figured out a way to take them on. Considering most looked like former military, even special forces, it would’ve been a slaughter since I’m a lover, not a fighter. I hoped to meet Baylee’s friends if it got to that point. They were hilarious and loud, especially after the fourth round of weird Alaskan shots hit their systems.
I was so entertained that I didn’t have time to be envious or crave their drinks or something other than the gallons of Sprite I sipped on throughout the night. From a two-top table tucked in the back corner of the dive bar, I heard everything they talked about—which, holy shit, women had a lot to say—and couldwatch Baylee out of the corner of my eye without being too damn obvious.
Her revelation to the table about her and Dean never fucking wasn’t a surprise. He’d mentioned it a time or two when we were still friends. Never with resentment or annoyance, just a blanket statement with a shrug. What was a shock, though, was that she hadn’t moved on even once since his death.
Especially considering how the big-ass angry fucker acted around her. The two were clearly closer than friends. Dating, maybe, but not sleeping together.
