Scared the sex won’t satisfy him. Scared he’ll get bored. Scared it won’t work and we won’t be able to stay friends. Scared it will work, but somebody won’t like it.
I’m tired of being scared. I just want to be happy.
Garrett’s chin comes to rest gently on my shoulder, his hand on my jaw as he turns my face to his. He smiles, so handsome I think my chest might break wide open.
“Hi,” he whispers against my lips. “I hope you know you’re beautiful.” He kisses the tip of my nose, the apple of my cheek, down my neck, and along my jaw. He stops at my ear, and my nerve endings dance when he grips my chin, holding me there. “But I’m still gonna show you what it feels like to piss me off.”
With a punishing hold on my hips, he slams me down on the rubber cock. I fall forward with a scream, clawing at the floor, and his chest vibrates with a sinister growl. Then his open palm hits my ass, and when I come, I scream all over again.
“That’s a good fucking girl,” he murmurs darkly as he maneuvers my body, pushing and pulling, taking and giving. Jesus Christ, does the man ever give. Fingers wrap around my throat, yanking me up to him, holding me against his solid chest as he works me over, thrusting, plunging, driving. “I can’t wait to see how perfectly you fit my cock. Can’t wait to see your beautiful face the first time I come inside you.”
A tingle starts low in my belly, spreading like wildfire through every fiber as my vision blurs. I writhe in his grasp as a second orgasm barrels toward me head-on, and when he whispers “Come for me” in my ear, he does exactly what he promised to do: makes my sky explode.
Fluorescent colors streak across my field of vision, lighting my world. My words dissolve until they’re nothing but garbled, nonsense sobs, and I collapse against Garrett’s body.
He sweeps me into his arms and stands, carrying me to the shower where he washes me tenderly beneath the warm spray. I can’t find it in me to speak a single word until we’re wrapped in blankets on my living room couch twenty minutes later, eating bowls of Corn Pops with my back against his chest.
“I got my ticket for your recital.”
I spin, nearly knocking his bowl onto my own head. “You did?”
“Mhmm. Can’t wait.”
I’m excited too. All my favorite people will be there, watching from the audience, and Garrett’s my favorite of all.
“I know we’re going for dinner afterward to celebrate with everyone—”
“For Carter’s birthday,” I clarify.
Garrett rolls his eyes. “He says to celebrate you; you say to celebrate him. I think we can celebrate you both.”
“Beckett’s don’t share center stage, Garrett.”
He chuckles softly and takes my bowl after he sets his down, draining the milk. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could do something afterward. Just the two of us.”
“We always do something with just the two of us.”
“Right. But this would be different.” His gaze bounces away, then back.
“Different how?”
“I donno.” He lifts a shoulder. “Special.”
“Special how?”
His throat works and his eyes track the lock of my hair that he twirls around his finger.
“Special how, Garrett?”
“Like a date, maybe. For Valentine’s Day. If you want.”
“If I want?” My heart gallops, a grin blooming. “Do you want?”
He licks his lips, tentative gaze meeting mine, and nods. “Yeah. I want.” He clears his throat and goes for it: word vomit, my favorite of his specialties. “I know it’s two weeks away, but I leave in two days for another road trip, and then I’m only home for one night, and we fly home again the day before the recital, so there’s not much time beforehand, and I know I said something special but we can’t really go anywhere because it’s a secret and all that but I thought maybe we could just make it special, like if we both don’t order dessert at the restaurant we could have it together instead and set up a picnic or something, maybe with candles and pillows and I donno, and you don’t have to get me a gift or anything, but I thought maybe it would be nice to, like…” He inhales a shaky breath and lets it go. “Have a real date.” He scratches his temple and winces. “That was rough, wasn’t it?”
“It was terrible,” I confirm. “But I think I can squeeze you in.”
His eyes flit down to mine, face flush with color, and he smiles. “Yeah?”
I smile too. “Yeah.”
“Grool.” He cringes. “Holy fuck. I did the Mean Girls thing. I started to say great but finished with cool.”
Snickering, I turn, slinging my arms around his neck. “You’re tired. You need to sleep.”
He sighs, squeezing my ass. “You’re right.”
I roll off him, taking the bowls to the kitchen. I find Garrett at the door, slipping his shoes on and doing up his pants.
“You’re going?”
He looks up, halting. “I thought…”
“No, that’s cool. Just asking.”
“’Cause you said I should sleep,” he explains.
“Right. I did.”
“So I should probably—”
“Do you maybe wanna—”
“Oh.” Garrett’s brows lift. “Were you saying something?”
“No. No, definitely not.” I wave my hands around, extra flail-y to distract from the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing. “You’re leaving.”
“I mean…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Unless you were gonna say…?”
“Who, me?” I point at myself. Yep, definitely turning into Garrett. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
Garrett’s head bobs slowly. “Great. Cool. Guess I’ll…leave then.”
I grin. “Grool.”
His laugh is my favorite, a hearty, warm sound, and when he tows me into him with a fistful of my shirt, the wave of emotions that hits me is truly staggering.
“Grool,” he whispers against my lips. “So grool.”
CHAPTER 28
RULES? WHAT RULES?
GARRETT
“That’s game, boys.” I sweep my hand over the table, gathering the cards.
Carter flips his upside down and crosses his arms, scowling. “It’s fucking bullshit is what it is.”
“You know what they say,” I murmur. “You have to learn to lose before you can—”
“If you tell me I need to learn how to lose in order to appreciate winning, I’ll toss you off this fucking airplane.”
“Oh, so Olivia can say it, but I can’t? Double fucking standards.”
“Olivia can say anything she wants! She’s growing my baby and sucking my dick!”
“Carter,” Adam mumbles around his sandwich, not looking up from the book in his other hand. “Stop being a sore loser.”
“I’m not a sore loser,” he grumbles, slumping in his seat.
“You are.” Jaxon and I just smoked Carter and Emmett in euchre three times in a row. It was only supposed to be one game, and then two, and, well…you know Carter. “You can’t be the best at everything.”
Carter toes at the bottom of my seat. “Emmett’s playing like shit.”
“Hey!” Emmett glances up from his phone. This might be the first time he’s realized the game has ended. “I haven’t seen my wife in five days and she’s sending me very detailed texts about how she’s going to welcome me home tonight.” His phone dings, his eyes turn feral, and he stands abruptly. “I, uh…I gotta…go. Take a leak.”
Carter stands next, stretching his arms overhead with a yawn. “I’m gonna go too. Wanna sext Ollie before I crash for the rest of this flight. Need some energy so I can rock her world when I get home. Pregnancy’s making her super horny. She’s hard to keep up with some days.” He chuckles quietly, a far-off look in his eyes. “The other day she woke me up by s—”
“Stop.” Adam holds his sandwich up like a shield. “For fuck’s sake, Carter, just stop. We don’t wanna know, and Olivia doesn’t want us to know; trust me on that.”
Carter pulls a face, gathering up the wrappers from his stress-eating when he was losing. He jabs Adam’s book. “You need to get laid. If you need some tips—”
“I don’t.”
“You sure? Word on the street is I know how to talk to the ladies.”