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Blood rushes my dick at the memory. Not now. How many times has this happened because of thoughts of her? More than it has for any other woman. Maybe because I’ve never fantasized about other women. I’ve never had one share my space and life. I’ve never been denied something that I’ve grown to want so badly. Will it fade in time? Will I tire of her like I did the others? I don’t want to do that to Sadie. Not that I’ve ever tossed a woman aside. I’m honest from the beginning and end things on good terms. Sometimes I go back for seconds, if I know the woman won’t assume it means something more. Two friends of mine share the same sex ideals as me. We take what we need, when we need if we’re available for each other. It’s mutual.
Sadie and I don’t have that agreement. This is new territory for both of us. If last night was it for her and our encounters are over, I’ll be dejected, but I’ll accept her choice. I’ll have to move out, as well. Living with her after knowing her intimately will be too much to take. She can stay for as long as she wants, but I’ll be at Daire’s penthouse, far away from her temptation.
The house comes into view in the near distance. Is she awake? Has she looked for me?
I haven’t gotten a text from her, so my guess is she’s still asleep or avoiding me.
The idea crawls over my skin like thousands of ants. I don’t like it. I’ve never needed a woman to acknowledge or accept me.
I check the time. I’ve been running for an hour. Doesn’t feel like it. I slow as I approach the incline of the property. My gaze catches on the gazebo enclosing the hot tub. She gave in to me. I didn’t expect it, no matter how much I pushed and wanted her. Even when I got home after my extended presentation with Daire, I assumed she’d change her mind. Instead, she left a trail of notes that led right to her in the last place I expected.
I adjust my throbbing dick. The damn thing wants Sadie more than I do.
The house is quiet when I enter. No sign of Sadie. I get a sports drink from the fridge and head for my room to shower.
I pleasure myself to visions of Sadie’s ass in the air while I take her from behind. When I return downstairs, nothing suggests Sadie emerged from her room. Fuck. I stab fingers through my hair and focus on the second-floor landing and the stairs that lead to the third floor.
Worry consumes me. I text her.
Easton: How are you?
Seconds pass.
I drum fingers on the counter.
My phone chimes. Anticipation roars through me. I almost drop the phone when I lift it to read the screen. It’s just Daire. My shoulders slump.
Daire: I’m on the way to the farm now if you want to start early.
I have a conference call scheduled with the bourbon CEO and his CFO to go over the details of the deal with Daire. He’s moving faster than I thought he would. It’s all good, better than good. It’s what I wanted out of this. My brother’s taking me and the product as seriously as I’m taking it.
I reply.
Easton: Of course. I’ll head over.
If I weren’t in casual business attire for the Zoom meeting, I would take the UTV. I haven’t even taken Sadie out on it yet. I need to do that if she’ll let me. If she stays.
The fear of her leaving sits heavy in my stomach. I roll down the windows as I leave the garage and jerk to a stop when a text from her appears on the dashboard screen.
I touch it. The automated car voice reads it aloud.
“Sorry. I slept in. I was up late last night working.”
I hit reply and say, “Working?”
Her reply plays in the car. “I sent my author a preliminary cover yesterday, and she loved it. She loved you and wants more.”
“More pictures?” I’m tempted to rush back into the house and have this conversation in person, but I already told Daire I’m on my way. If I want him to take me as a serious business partner, I need to treat him with the same respect.
“More covers? I’ll be busy all day. Wait. Are you here?”
Is she looking for me in the house? The desire to be there for her hits me like a windstorm. My skin grows sticky, like when I was a young teen trying to impress a girl.
Sadie does things to me and my body that I’ve never experienced before. I haven’t been this unsure since my high school years. Even then, I was cocky, confident, and carefree. “The three Cs,” my mom chastised me once and told me to be better.
She never asked Daire to be better. He was what she wanted in a son. Even when he caused trouble, and he did—not as much as I did, but he wasn’t a saint—she was lenient with him.
She kept on me about this behavior and the way I went through women until this last year. But then she isn’t around to get on me like she was when she lived at the estate. Mom and Dad are at their condo in Palm Beach more than they’re here.
