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Wren’s faster, most probably sensing both my literal and figurative retreat, and crawls onto my lap. Straddling me, her legs bracket mine and she glides her splayed palms up my chest to clasp her fingers at the back of my neck.
“Look, while I don’t know your reasons, I do know that you aren’t a coward. Talk to me.”
“I feel like leaving is the only way to force Dot’s hand and not be around for the blowback.”
“What do you mean?” Her fingers play with stubble-like hair at the nape of my neck, and I lean into her touch.
“If I stay, I’ll never be free of her. She isn’t going to tell anyone we’re over.”
I can already imagine what Dot would say if Wren and I started seeing each other. Wren would be the homewrecker or worse, and I’d be a cheater. The truth would never see the light of day.
“Then you tell them. She doesn’t call the shots. Are you just going to walk away from the house you built? Your business?” Her voice rises with each question, clearly on a roll.
It’s funny how little we’ve said to each other over the years, but through the gossip mill, we know a fair bit about the other. And even with the years and distance, we’re as close as ever.
“Wren, she can keep the house. I don’t want it.” My hands run along her back, needing to touch her. “Too many bad memories. But the business…”
She waits a beat, then two, and on the third, tries again. “Why were you really here tonight?”
Like a stealth bomber, she sneaks up on me and never misses her mark. How she knows there was more to my visit here tonight is uncanny, but I’ve got nothing to hide from her. Never from Wren.
“Coach called me. I figured it was good timing since I was leaving and I wanted to say goodbye.”
“What did he want?”
“It hasn’t been announced yet, but he’s retiring at the end of December. He thought I’d be a good replacement.”
“Wow, that’s great news.” She bounces on my lap, and my dick twitches as I emit a low growl. “Coach is right. You’d be a great PE teacher.”
I shrug. I do have the degree, and teaching was always the plan after graduation. “I don’t know. I kind of shelved that dream a long time ago.”
“Why?”
“Winslow Nest. I really enjoy what I do.”
I make custom furniture for a living and kind of fell into it through my love of woodwork. After college, a friend of mine couldn’t find the crib they’d envisioned for their first child, and I helped them out by building them a custom one.
Things grew from there, and now I’m known for building one-of-a-kind pieces with orders from as far as New York City and Canada.
Her tits rub against my chest, and she lightly kisses my mouth. “But you’re going to walk away from it. Why let Dot keep it? What is she going to do with the Nest without you?” Her voice is tinged with a mixture of indignation and determination. “You’re the talent. The one who makes the designs, oversees the builds. What does Dot do? Run the office. Answer the phones?”
She pushes away from me, and I immediately resent the loss of her but can now breathe again. I’m barely keeping it together as it is.
Every time she touches me, kisses me, my brain short circuits, switching to only one track.
Wren.
I want her.
I want to be so deep inside her that she’ll never be able to get me—the awareness of me, the impression of me—out of her mind, body, and soul.
“I’m not belittling what Dot does, but you can train anyone to do those things. Replacing you isn’t as easy, and it sounds like you don’t really want to give up the Nest.”
“Wren.” My sharp tone equals the meaningful squeeze to her waist. “Drop this.”
“You could buy her out.”
I’m grateful for the darkness so she can’t see my scowl. Not at her persistence, but at how frustrating and futile all of this is. And I’ve no one to blame but myself.
