Page 11 of Slow Burn (Driven 5)
No strings, yeah … but rope? She didn’t say a fucking thing about any rope.
I knew I should have done more to resist her advances last night, knew that one goddamn taste wouldn’t be enough. Shit, that’s why I’ve kept her at arm’s length this past year and a half. Haddie being sexy was a given, but getting tangled with her in the sheets was something I didn’t want to risk since she was Rylee’s best friend. And best friends dating best friends usually always turns ugly.
So I tried to play it safe. Lot of good that did me since I fell off the cliff last night and don’t even think I want to be rescued from the rope I’m dangling from.
I reach up and adjust my ball cap, and then I grab my bag out of the bed of the truck. This is the problem with pussy: When you want it you can’t get it, and when you don’t want it, you get it and then you can’t get it out of your fucking head.
And fuck if I can erase sweet goddamn Haddie’s from owning my thoughts.
“Hey, asshole?”
The voice shocks me from my thoughts. I snap my head up and look toward the porch. “What the fuck are you doing here, Walker?”
“Glad to see you too, dude,” my brother says as he leans over to get a sloppy kiss from Rex. He laughs and ruffles his fur before looking back up at me.
I look around to make sure I didn’t miss seeing my brother’s truck on the way in, but nope, it’s not here. “I didn’t know you were going to be up here.” I pull my bag over my shoulder and start walking toward the old ranch house.
“Yeah, well, it was last minute. Aubrey had a bachelorette party in Vegas.” He shrugs as he lifts the beer in his hand to his lips. “I figured I’d head out here for a couple of days while she was gone. Recharge. Relax. Become one with nature,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows as he repeats the motto our mom used to say when she hauled us off to this old house in Ojai. It has been in her family for years. We used to roll our eyes at the motto as kids, but understand it as adults.
“My truck’s behind the barn. I was letting Raul use it,” he explains, causing me to look over toward the barn to see if the caretaker is there to wave a greeting to, but he’s nowhere in sight. “What’s your excuse for coming up?”
“I was looking for some time. Alone,” I say as I climb the steps.
“Oh, poor baby,” he teases. “Is my big brother sad that his bromance has been interrupted by a little wedding?”
“Fuck off,” I tell him, even though I already know he’s not going to. He never does, when it comes to how close Colton and I are. “I just needed some R and R. I drank too much last night … thought I’d come up for the weekend and recover. By myself. Leave it to my dumb-ass little brother to ruin my plans.”
He slaps my back and laughs. “Good thing he did, because he stocked the fridge with ice-cold beer.”
“Seriously?” Sweet. Saves me the trip into town to get more.
“Seriously. Dontcha love me now?” he says as he heads toward the kitchen while I head toward the bedroom to drop off my stuff.
“I’d love you even more if you grabbed me one. Or two or three,” I yell down the hallway to him.
Pulling the brim of my hat down, I sink down in the chair a bit more. The sun feels good on my skin and the ice-cold beer sliding down my throat feels even better. Walker keeps yakking on and on like a woman, and I tune him out. He definitely got our mother’s talk-about-fucking-nothing-ad-nauseam gene.
I close my eyes, and my thoughts wander back toward last night. And then they drift to how fucking great the sex was. How great Haddie was. I feel like a chick thinking about it again, about her again, but shit, the sex was incredible. Not to mention that it’s such a damn turn-on when a woman is confident and not afraid to speak her mind in the sack.
“What’s your deal, dude?”
“Huh?” I glance at Walker.
“Who is she?” he asks with a smirk.
“Who is who?” I aim for classic avoidance. Walker doesn’t need to know zip about Haddie because it was just a one-night stand. And if he thinks any differently—Mr. I love to be in a relationship—he’ll run blabbing
to Mom, and then she’ll start in on me about grandbabies. And of course, then I’ll get the phone call from Dad telling me she’s driving him crazy with all of this baby nonsense, but can I hurry it up some so that he can have some peace and quiet? Shit, I’m okay with having kids someday, just not now.
I’ve still got oats to sow, places to see, and people to do before I take a chance and bareback.
“Becks … you’re sitting over there with your eyes closed, a stupid-ass smirk on your face, and you’re adjusting your dick every five fucking seconds.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “So either you’re remembering getting lucky—and it seems like it was a damn good lucky—or else you’re having some kind of pornographic wet daydream, and if that’s the case, you’re a sick fuck since you’re doing it while I’m sitting right here.”
I stare at him and see amusement in my pestering little brother’s eyes. “Shut up.” It’s not a very good comeback, but it’s all I’ve got, because he caught me red-handed.
“Ha! I knew it!” he says, turning in his lounge chair to face me. “What poor woman was subjected to your lack of skill last night?”
And so his screwing with me begins. I love my brother to death, but he needs some new fucking comebacks. I swear to God he hangs out too much with his girlfriend, Aubrey, because he couldn’t be sporting more estrogen if he were wearing some lipstick and heels.
