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Authors: Scarlet Wolfe

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BOOK: Trust Game
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Chapter Thirteen

Reese

 

“Every
thing is spinning,” I say as Everett returns to his truck after helping Becca make it safely into her apartment.

“It’s because you’re a stubborn, woman. I’ve only known you five days, and I’ve figured it out. You wanted to prove to me that you could be drunk and still reject me.”

He turns my chin toward him. “Well, guess what? It didn’t work, and you don’t want it to.” He gives me a chaste kiss before pulling back onto the road.

The lights through town shine in on his truck, so I take a look around it. “How many vehicles do you own?”

“This, the sport bike, and I have a Harley Street Glide.”

“Where do you live? I don’t even know.”

“I’ll show you tomorrow when you’re sober.”

I shake my head no, and everything spins some more, so I close my eyes. Dang, am I ever drunk.

“Thank you for not leaving me alone when I’m being drunk and stupid.”

“I could never do that, and you’re
drunk but not stupid.”


I shouldn’t have left him.”

“Who?” he asks.

“Forget it.” I feel Everett take hold of my hand.

“Who shouldn’t you have left?


I can’t tell you,” I whine. Why has he been in my head lately? The hold on my hand tightens, so I open my eyes.

“Are you talking about the
guy you were shacked up with the last few years?”

“No, i
t’s Preston.” His name even sounds distant. My chin is turned toward Everett.

“Fancy
face,” he keeps glancing from the road to me, “tell me you’re not seeing someone else and spilling it because you’re drunk.”

I swat my hand, trying to move his from my face but I miss. “Why do you keep thinking that? I don’t date multiple men at once.” I throw my finger out at him. “Not. Ever. Mr. Casteel. Does someone have a guilty conscience?” I ask, giggling.

“Dammit, I love your laugh, but you’re going to be out cold in a matter of seconds. I guess you found a way to reject me after all.”

I laugh harder as my head falls back against the seat.
“How about I promise to make it up to you?”


As long as it’s soon.”

 

***

My hands go straight
to my head as the pounding hammers in my ears and spreads outward. Beer. Ugh. Rolling over, my elbow hits something, so I open my eyes.

Everett’s shirtless
and on his stomach, the sheet resting at his waist. Lifting it, I see he’s in his boxers, and I’m in a t-shirt and panties.

Memories from last night begin to surface as I sit up in bed. I eye his shoulders, biceps and back, which are cut to perfection
, a polished fragment of amber. A ring of fire tattooed on his shoulder blade only adds to the intensity, making the idea of amber more vivid.

Inside the circle of flames is the quote, “The finest steel has to go through the hottest fire.” He’s the finest alright. Hottest, too.

“Like what you see?” he asks, mumbling. His head isn’t even facing my way.

“You’re arrogant
but yes. I’m going to get pain medicine.” When I return to my room, he’s facing me now, his eyes half opened.


Headache?”

“It’s all your fault for showing up last night.
” Climbing in the bed, I sit next to him with my back against the headboard.

“Had you not been difficult, you would be feeling fantastic t
his morning in more ways than one.” I don’t reply. He’s right.

“I like the tattoo on your shoulder. Who said it?”

“Richard Nixon, but that is not why I like it.”


You have survived through the fire. You’re a fighter, Everett. It’s one of the reasons you’re successful.” He shuts his eyes.

“There are those who’ve gone through so much
worse than I have.”

“It’s your pain and struggle,
not theirs. Everyone feels their own to different degrees, so it can’t be compared.”

Reaching up,
he opens his eyes as his hand cups my cheek. “You better stop with the sweet talk, fancy face. You might not be able to get rid of me.” There is that look again; the one driven by emotion.

“Why do you call me that?”

“You’re always dressed up at work and have makeup on.”

“You don’t li
ke the makeup?”

“You don’t
need
the makeup. Of course, it’s pretty on you, but you’re beautiful without it.” His thumb skims my cheek as he holds it. “I like that I’ve been able to see you in the mornings. It means you trust me enough to show your true self.”

Yeah, we’re getting deep again.

“You better stop with all the sweet talk, or I might get rid of you today.”

“No pillow talk. I feel so used,” he says with a grin.

“Other than for a ride home, you weren’t used. We didn’t have sex.”

His hand glides from my cheek down to my neck and then to the side of my chest. It lan
ds on my waist before he squeezes it.

“Then we need
to fix that, so I can feel used and violated. It will make you giving me the boot so much easier to handle,” he says with intense arousal and determination flickering in his sharp, blue eyes.

The feel of warmth being transferred to me spreads like his ring of fire. Fingers are on the move again, sliding down my hip
and skimming across my stomach.

They run down my thigh closest to him and back
up again before slithering over to the wet heat he’s creating.

Slipping between the
soaked cotton, they rub my clit languorously, the onslaught of pleasure climbing and clawing but being held hostage by the torture of feather-light circles.

“Touch me harder … faster,” I say as shallow breaths struggle to and fro.

“No, this is an erotic sight.”

The need for more is almost painful.

“Please, Everett.”

Without a flinch of the
hand against my clit, he sits up and runs his free one up under my shirt. Taking hold of my nipple, he begins tugging and pinching. The sensations adding to the teasing torment.

H
is fingers push inside of me, plunging in and out as his thumb takes over delivering pleasure to my clit.

“I could watch you
like this all day.” His fingers inside of me pick up speed while the others pull harder on my nipple.

“I’m going to …” Digging my heels into the sheets, I push my ass down the bed, shoving against his fingers as the orgasm bursts through his wicked hold creating earth-shatter
ing, glorious spasms.

“Yes, Reese. Fuck. Yes.”
The evidence of lust and passion is swimming in his sea of blue, adding to the enthralling moment between us, where it’s more than sex. Each time it’s been something more.

Wh
en the pleasure lets me go, I’m up and pushing him backward until his head is toward the end of the bed. His erection has filled his boxers, wanting out, so I pull them off.

As soon as I straddle him, his fingers are in my hair, massaging my scalp, and I realize my headache is long gone. I cover his cock with my mouth and slide it down the length of his shaft. He’s smooth yet rock-hard.

My hair is gripped firmly as he groans loudly, and I want him to experience an orgasm at the magnitude of what he’s given me.

Dragging my mouth
slowly back up, I stroke him with my tongue along the way, hearing the hiss lash from his lips. Swirling against the tip, his groan becomes more of a growl.


I know you’re paying me back, but please go faster.”

Everett

 

Taking me deep, she sucks harder and faster. Her wet mouth rubs my cock with every str
oke, balls ready to burst. My fingers tighten on her hair, and I can’t resist pushing her head down, burying my dick farther.

She eases up, her tongue playing on the tip as her hand works me over, each sweep pushing me closer to the brink. Her mouth sinks back down, taking me the farthest yet, and I lose all control.

“Baby, please let me come in your mouth,” I manage out with a groan. She doesn’t let up as the rush of heat through my cock pumps into her throat.

Clutching her blonde strands
, I hold her stable as ecstasy roars through my cells, blood pounding amongst it. Pleasure penetrates my tense muscle fibers until they are limp. I’m relaxed and sated.


Jesus
, Reese.” I pull her up until her head is on my chest. She’s straddling me as I comb my fingers through her shoulder length hair. Closing my eyes, I revel in the feel of her sultry skin, feverishly penetrating mine.

Grieving heavily
after Krystal’s death made it hard to distinguish when the grief lessened and the loneliness began, but at some point, it crept in and took up residency.

One week with Reese, and it’s clear to me how lonely I’ve been. For the last two years, living
with the loneliness seemed necessary. I didn’t believe it was right for me to move on, so it was home.

My marriage wasn’t healthy, but regardless of the fighting or the distance we’d put between us, I loved her and sure as hell never thought I’d be alone again or dating.

Reese’s warmth covering me feels right in more than a physical sense. Waking up next to her is a familiar comfort, but Reese is so much more than comforting. She’s mysterious and exciting, vibrant and independent.

Her phone ringing on the nightstand jolts my eyes back open. “I don’t want
to move,” she says with a heavy sigh.

Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her closer.

“Then don’t.” The phone stops, and she settles back against my chest. “I’m showing you my place today.”

Reese rises
quickly, straddling my thighs, and damn, her tits are magnificent.

“It’s Saturday.” Panic
floods her eyes.

“Yes, and you’re spending it with me.”

“I can’t.” She swings her torso around to look at her clock. “Shit. I’m giving Becs a ride to our parents since she left her car at the restaurant. I was supposed to pick her up fifteen minutes ago, at least, I think that’s what we decided amidst my drunken fog.”

I grab her hips. “Hearing the word ride come out of your mouth while in this position is not helping my frustration at the moment.”

“I’m sorry. I told you yesterday that I was busy this weekend.” She’s off of me and hurrying to her bathroom.

“Why are you going so early?” I ask, shouting to her.

“Becca and I promised to help our parents clean out their basement and garage. A ton of our shit is stored in them, and they want it out.”

Sitting up, I find my boxers and begin to dress. I have an idea that I’m sure she will reject. Flying past me, she picks up her phone and begins texting.

“I have a truck. I could help.”

“Uh, no,” she says, making her way to a dresser. “I mean, I appreciate the offer, but if you already meet my parents, they’ll … well, it’s just not a good idea.”

“They’ll be disappointed in you for sleeping with your boss the first week on the new job.”

She turns
. “Yes, and the facial expressions they’ll display are not the ones I want to stare at all day.”

Suddenly feeling slighted, I begin to dress. This shoul
dn’t bother me. I mean, I barely know her. I joked that I wanted to feel used, and we are using each other for sex, nothing more.

The room is quiet for an uncomfortably long time before she’s standing in front of me. Her hand takes hold of my arm, and that glimpse of emotion she has s
eldom shown this week is gazing back at me.

“If you want to spend next weekend together, I’m all yours. I can’t bail on my family. We’ve had this planned for weeks, and I’ll most likely be sore and tired tomorrow.”

Stress seems to be consuming her again, so I frame her face and plant my lips on hers.

“I understand, Reese. We said this would be only sex, and I crossed the line. I was only trying to help, but I get it.” Then why in the hell is this bothering me? She gives a smile of relief.

“Thank
you. This morning was amazing.”

I kiss her forehead before I hug her tight.

“Yes, it was.”

Reese

 

“T
his is too much like work,” Becca says as she plops down on the floor next to me in my parents’ basement. “What’s that?”

“The box of
keepsakes I kept from when Preston and I were together. There are notes, pictures, and a few other things inside.” I have my legs spread open with the shoebox sitting between them. I can’t stop staring at it.

“I’ll never forget that night or the many months after. I might’ve been young, but my heart still ached so badly for you, sis.”

My eyes become watery as I take a glimpse at her.

“Thank you. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you. I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around then.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know.

“H
e made a choice that night to get drunk and act stupid, but I’ll always wonder if he would’ve lived had I stayed.”

“It was a freak accident, Reese. It’s been
nine years. You have to forgive yourself and move on.”

“I have moved on. I don’t love him. We
didn’t even get along that great.”

“That’s not what I mean
t. You’re afraid to get close to people, and you never take risks, always worried something bad will happen like it did to Preston.”

Reaching over, I squeeze her leg.

“I guess you are all grown up, but I’ll have you know that I’m working on loosening up.”

“Yeah, I noticed last night. Why did we drink b
efore having to do all this manual labor?”

“Who was drinking?” Mom asks.

“Oh, shit,” Becca mumbles.

I turn around and smile at my mother. Her blonde hair is up and messy, face beet red, and those lips are pursed as her hands rest on her hips.

“Mom, we’re adults. We went out for a few drinks and did not drive after.”

“I still don’t like it. It’s not safe for two pretty girls to be out like that.”

Standing, I dust my shorts off and help Becca up.

“You know, Mom, worrying ever
y second about what could go wrong isn’t living. I’m finally realizing that.” I throw my arm around her shoulder. “I think you should go out some night with Becca and me. We’ll remind you what it’s like to have a good time.”

“Good lord
, what’s gotten into you?” she asks.

“Yeah, really, sis. What are you thinking?” Becca’s eyes are big and round, relaying th
e message that I’ve clearly gone off the deep end.

“The three
of you need to stop slacking off,” Dad says, after making his way down the basement steps.

“Charles, I have been working. It’s your daught
ers that were down here on their butts,” she says with aggravation.

“We’re up, gee
z,” Becca says, picking up the shoebox. “Do you want me to take it to my apartment, so you don’t have to have it at yours?”

My parents glance to Becca’s hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were sorting through Preston’s things.” Mom gives me a sympathetic look as my dad retreats from the basement. “You can leave that here if you’d like.”

Opening the box, I inhale a deep breath and rummage through it until I find a picture of Preston a
nd me together. After replacing the lid, I hand it to my mom and keep the photo.


Will you please throw it away?”

“Sweetheart, are you sure?”

“It’s time.” I hold up the picture. “I’ll keep this.”

BOOK: Trust Game
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