“Katya and I—my ex-fiancée—liked to work out together. To motivate each other. We trained together for a couple triathlons.”
Triathlon—that explains a lot about his strong body. I nod for him to keep going.
He scratches his jaw, then continues. “So the smartwatches were part of that. The tracking. We synced them. And we talked about all the triathlons we’d do as a married couple as well. We bought a house together, planned for the wedding in the early fall, and all. Sent out invites, reserved an event venue in the Presidio overlooking the ocean, ordered the cake—a three-tier coconut cake.”
My mouth waters. That does sound good.
“I had my tux, she had her dress, we were getting the RSVPs. But one night in late summer, about a month from the wedding, she was out of town for work. And I noticed her activity levels were spiking on the app. She liked to do Pilates classes, so it wasn’t so odd at first.”
The wheels in my brain turn till I figure out why it wasn’t oddat first. “But she wasn’t actually working out then?” I ask carefully.
“Not at the gym. Not at the Pilates studio,” he says, his tone brittle, laced with a cold edge. “Her workout was in a hotel bed. At four in the morning. With a guy she worked with.”
My heart aches for him. “Oh my god, Sawyer,” I say, since there are no good ways to learn your fiancée is unfaithful, but that’s a particularly sad one, since those watches were supposed to be for them. “I’m so sorry.”
He blows out a breath. “Yeah, it pretty much sucked…one hundred nuts.”
I smile lightly, appreciating his gallows humor, but then the smile vanishes, replaced by genuine concern. “And you had to call off the wedding? Well, of course you did.”
A resigned sigh comes next, then a nod. “Called it off. Canceled the venue. Said we were sorry to all the guests. Told the bakery we didn’t need the coconut cake after all,” he says, and there’s extra regret in his tone, like the cake was special to him in some way.
“Was it your favorite? Cake flavor?”
He turns his gaze to me, his eyes vulnerable. “Yeah. I was…really looking forward to it. All of it. But also? I really like coconut cake, and she’d said, ‘For you, let’s do the coconut cake, since I love you so much.’ And then I put the house we’d shared on the market. Did the walk-through. Handled the inspections. All of it on my own, even though we owned it together. Today, we signed the papers at the closing. That’s the end of the splitting up.”
“Oh god,” I say, my heart hollowing out for him. “That’s a lot.”
He shoots me an intrigued look. “It was a lot,” he says evenly, then his eyes twinkle with…mischief? No, those are dirty thoughts written on his irises. “Does that mean I get to pick dessert?”
“Yes,” I say emphatically, since that’s a hell of a hard story. “A canceled wedding trumps an unfair firing.”
“Good,” he says, then stretches an arm across me and tugs at the sash of my bathrobe till it’s undone. The robe falls open. One breast is exposed. “Then, sit on my face. That’s what I want for dessert.”
Far be it for me to deny him dessert rights.
* **
My hands are braced on the cushioned headboard, my breasts are bouncing, and I’m officially a member of the Beard Fan Club. His fingers dig into the flesh of my ass as he grips me tight while devouring me.
I feel shameless, worshipped as I rock back and forth against his mouth, his scratchy stubble whisking across my inner thighs with every decadent move. It’s a combo I didn’t know I needed. It’s like the sweet-and-salty snack that changes your life. The rough bristle of his facial hair mixes with the soft touch of his mouth, and this woman is in dirty heaven.
I’m close, so damn close as I chase my pleasure on his face. I’ve enjoyed sex before. I’ve come before. And I don’t know why—maybe it’s the freedom of a one-night stand, the luxury of the hotel room,the antidote of sex and French fries to my shitty, topsy-turvy day—but I’ve never felt like this. So unabashed, so reckless, so goddamn carefree as I do with Sawyer, the Bearded Wonder Fuck.
So I give in to the hedonism of tonight. I go off like a shot, coming within an inch of my life, hard and mercilessly and so damn loud I’m sure the hotel is going to kick me out for indecent noise exposure.
And when I come down with another pant, and another moan, breathless and still wildly aroused, I say, “That was…unbelievable.”
“That’s my new favorite word,” he says.
“Let me…with you.”
But Sawyer shakes his head, reaches for another condom, then says, “Get on my dick. I’m not done with dessert.”
I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow, and I’m okay with that.
After, when we’ve showered and I’ve collapsed like a wet noodle in his arms, he strokes my hair, murmuring softly. He drops a kiss to my forehead, then my cheek, and when he tucks my hair behind my ear, I’m sure he’s going to whisper sweet nothings, and I tense.
I’m not sure I want sweet nothings.
