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Grace
“Soy!” I whispered, shaking him awake. It was four in the morning and we had finally drifted to sleep an hour or so ago. Sawyer may not have been able to do back to back to back performances, but he was certainly good about making sure I got mine again and again.
My little cottage home was now thoroughly christened, not a room untouched. After our shower, and after Sawyer proved to me that not all oral was created equal because no man had ever gone down on me the way Sawyer did, we made our way to the kitchen for food. The table and pantry door all found some loving tonight.
As did the couch and hallway floor.
The man turned me on like no other.
We had finally found sleep but something jarred me awake. I wasn’t sure what had done it—until I heard a noise.
There was someone in my house.
“Sawyer!” I whispered again, trying to get him to wake up. Apparently the man slept like the dead.
On a sleepy groan, Sawyer rolled toward me, his eyes still closed. “Yeah, babe?”
“Wake up. There’s someone in the house,” I whispered again, slowly growing more and more frantic. If I had to, I’d use Sawyer’s gun. I glanced over at it sitting so innocently on my nightstand. I didn’t know a damn thing about them, but I would do it.
I would.
His yellow eyes opened and he squinted at me in the dark of the room. “In the house?” he repeated. I watched as he completely came to, all while I nodded at him. Just like that, Sawyer went from sleepy and sated, to super cop mode.
He rolled out of bed, pulling on his jeans in record time and sliding his gun into the back of his waistband, sans the holster. I started to get out of bed too but he tossed his t-shirt at me and pointed. “Stay put.”
Hurriedly, I pulled the shirt over my head, tucking it down by my hips. I was torn.
I knew this is what Sawyer did, go after bad guys.
But what if the guy had a gun? What if he didn’t pay attention and he shot Sawyer in the, in the…in the chest or something? Or worse, what if the shot was intentional?
My mind a flurry of what ifs, I didn’t notice Sawyer round the bed and lean into me, framing me with his strong forearms on either side of my hips. “Turn off your worry, sweetness,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back. Call 9-1-1.”
He pressed his lips to mine quickly and when he pulled back, I reached for my cell, bringing up the dial pad. Before Sawyer could leave the room though, before I could even dial the first ‘one,’ my bedroom door burst open, the wood of the jam splintering and the door itself crashing against the wall.
I squeaked in surprise, dropping the phone in my lap. Sawyer reached behind him, his hand wrapping around his gun but not it from his waistband.
“I knew it,” Jeremy sneered from the door frame. “I knew you were fucking him.”
