Page 35 of Stray

“How so?” he whispers against my ear, and I feel his thumb brush over my belly button.

“J-Jackson, no one has touched me in over five years,” I admit, and his body stills. Squeezing my eyes shut, I wait for it- for him to realize that my attackers were the last and that he won’t want to touch me.

“You mean anywhere? At all?” I turn around and stare up at him as a tear breaks free and rolls down my cheek.

“Yeah,” I manage over a sob. “In fact, what we just did on the phone, it’s the closest anyone’s been with me since…” I shake my head and look back at him. “I know that was just a spontaneous thing, and you probably have no interest in–”

“Stop,” he states firmly and backs up a step, his eyes assessing me. “Baby, you have no idea the level of interest I have.” My breath catches in my throat as my eyes widen.

“Really?” I breathe out and watch him nod.

“Ozzy, I don’t know how or when, but yeah, I like you, and I’m not the kind of man that tries to play off his feelings and shit. I’m honest and upfront. So let me make it very clear: I am interested in you.”

Stepping towards him, I smile nervously. “It’s going to be hard,” I warn. “I’m not going to be an easy person to like.” A laugh escapes him as he brushes his hair out of his face.

“You haven’t been yet. I didn’t see that changing anytime soon.”

“I want to hug you,” I confess, and watch his arms go out instantly and without an ounce of hesitation, inviting me in. I wrap my arms around his waist as I press my face against his chest. “I really should let you go to bed now that your germs are all over me.” I joke as I release him.

“Alright, but first,” a smirk pulls at his face. “How nasty was that medicine?” I giggle as I shake my head.

“Tasted like fucking ass.”

* * *

Derek Rowe is… not what I expected. I don’t know. I guess when I think of a Rowe man, I think of my guys. Whoa, my guys. When did that happen?

Apparently, all the Rowe men are tall and broad, with cocky smirks and tanned skin that crinkles in the corners of their eyes and lean, worker bodies. Derek is tall and built like a fucking boxer with his large, tight muscles. I know he’s a tattoo artist, but I am still taken aback when I see his entire body is covered in different black and grey art.

“Hey,” his voice is gruff as he sticks out his hand. “I’m Derek,”

“Hellraiser ain’t into physical contact!” Carter calls from where he’s leaning on my car. That fucker.

“Get the fuck off Gretchen, you bitch!” I growl, storming over to the man lying on the roof of my car. I grab his boot and pull, but the large man barely budges. His boot flies off, though, causing me to fall backward onto my ass.

“Ow,” I whine and spot Jackson walking over. He holds his hand out to help me up, and I take it without a thought. However, my lack of thoughts is causing me to have several new thoughts—none of them decent. Once I’m standing, Jackson walks over to Carter, grabs him by his shirt and pants, and… Oh. My. God.

Jackson lifts Carter up like he’s nothing, the same way I’ve watched him with bales of hay, and tosses him on the ground without much effort. That was… way too hot.

I am mildly aware of Derek huffing out a laugh. “Trying to show off for your girl?”

Jackson snorts and shoves his older brother’s shoulder. “There ain’t no showing off here. Tink is not one to be impressed. She is one to bitch loudly, though, and between my cold a few days ago and the lack of sleep due to the kid–”

Derek’s face pales, “You’re sick?”

“It’s a oh, for the love of god, it was a cold, days ago!” He yells at Derek’s retreating figure before shaking his head. “You wouldn’t think he grew up on a goddamn ranch with how he acts.” His eyes find mine, and he raises a brow. “Why are you staring at him?”

I snap my eyes to Jackson and raise a brow of my own. “I wasn’t staring. I was looking.”

“I…” he shakes his head. “I don’t have it in me to deal with your shit today. Fine, go look at his old ass.” He grumbles before storming off, leaving me confused.

“What the hell?” I mutter to myself.

“Making old Jackie jealous, huh?” Carter smirks as he walks up to me with his hands in his pockets.

“Don’t you have a child to parent?” I snap, and his face pales.

“Fuck! Where did I leave him?” I shake my head before walking off while Carter yells at me to help him find Wyatt. Wyatt’s fine. He’s with Dorothy, where he’s been all day. But it’s good for Carter to feel a slight panic.

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