Page 91 of The Invitation
I smile, kissing him again. “I have a feeling there will be lots and lots of benefits in this friendship, Mr. Brewer.”
He thrusts his hardened cock against me. “How about one more round of benefits before we leave?”
“We might as well since you’re basically giving them your bank information—ah!”
I giggle as he pulls my face to his and makes me forget about the world. About everything but him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ripley
“Thanks for bringing him home, Tate,”I say, watching Waffles chase a bug around my backyard.
The storm didn’t hit my neighborhood as hard as it hit the mountain. There were some branches scattered around the pool and an umbrella went flying down the hill and into the neighbor’s yard. But it was nothing compared to the logs Georgia and I had to traverse to get down the trail and to my car.
Note to self: Limit outdoor adventures with Peaches.
I had to carry her on my back the last quarter mile thanks to the blister, the heat, and the mud puddles that splashed on her legs and made them itchy. She complained and chastised me for not checking the weather for pretty much the entire descent. But instead of finding it grating, I’d just look at her and she’d give me a little smile. Then I didn’t care so much.
“He just laid on the couch and watched the door.” Tate shakes his head. “I think he thought I dog-napped him at first. He barked at me until he realized I was taking him for a ride, then he was all too happy to jump in the car. You need to reviewstranger danger with him. One cute poodle or a pepperoni stick and he’s toast.”
“You two talk about that dog like he’s a person,” Gannon says.
“Take this for what it is, Gannon, butthat doghas more people skills than you,” I say.
Tate laughs, picking up a wet tennis ball and throwing it across the yard. Waffles sees it bounce and chases it, managing to stop it before it hits the fence. The ball never had a chance.
“Why does he hop?” Gannon asks, confused. “He gets going and hops sideways.”
“He was a kangaroo in a past life,” Tate says.
Gannon rolls his eyes. “I think your dog is broken, Ripley.”
“And I think you might be broken if you keep up the shit talk about my puppy.”
Tate laughs, swinging his attention to Gannon. He loves this kind of bickering.Baby of the family energy.
“All right, enough about the dog,” Gannon says. “I came here to discuss a couple of things.”
“What’s up?” I ask.
My brothers and I sit at a table by the pool. The air is muggy from all the rain and my clothes stick to me. My mind goes immediately to the lack of clothes with Georgia a few hours ago.
Dropping her off at her house was difficult. It felt unfair to have to say goodbye to her already. I tried to talk her into coming home with me, but she was insistent on giving us both room to think before we went all in.
I hate to tell her, but I’m already so far in that I can’t see above water.
When it came to Georgia Hayes, only a few days ago I believed I was only capable of assholish behavior. But somehow, through honesty—finally—an enormous burden has been lifted.
Sex with her has been mind-blowing, hot and intimate all at once.Even better than I expected. But it was he confessions of how she saw me, albeit through the description of a fictional dog, that showed me I was not only an asshole in her eyes.
That gave me hope that we could be … more. Maybe everything.
“Do you remember Bobby Downing?” Gannon asks.
“Fuck him,” Tate says immediately.
Just hearing the name makes my stomach curl. “How could we forget?”
