Chapter Seventeen

AJ

It’s three in the afternoon before I finally rouse from a very deep sleep. My entire body is fatigued and sore, even after stealing about six hours of sleeping like the dead.

My new nephews came screaming into the world shortly after six this morning. When Linkin came bursting into the waiting room around seven, a proud smile and tearful glint in his eyes, he couldn’t contain his excitement to share his news.

Hudson Brian and Hemi James Stone arrived in the same chaotic fashion that preceded their delivery. Hudson arrived first, five whole minutes before his brother. He weighed in at four pounds and seven ounces, started screaming the moment he hit fresh air, and is named after one of his father’s favorite classic cars, the Hudson Hornet.

Hemi, however, caused his parents a little more worry. Hemi wasn’t breathing the best when he came out and had to be taken right away to the NICU, where he has been on a high-flow nasal cannula to help with his oxygen support. Little Hemi, named after another of his dad’s favorite cars, the Hemi Cuda, was a bit smaller than his brother, weighing in at four pounds, one ounce. Both boys are now in the NICU, where they were both given IV fluids for a short time until they are ready to start eating.

It was hard to leave the hospital this morning, mainly because of not meeting them, but it was necessary. We were all equally tired after spending the night in the waiting room, especially after the adrenaline of their quick unofficial nuptials wore off. Lexi and Linkin were both exhausted and needing to rest, and then would be heading to the NICU to be with their sons.

I’ll be going to the hospital later this afternoon to meet them, as long as everything is still going well and they’re moved to the regular nursery.

I’m tangled up with a very naked, still sleeping Sawyer Randall. I’d love to reach down right now and grab his pretty impressive bat and take it for a few swings, but I’m in need of a little caffeine to get me through the rest of this day.

Gingerly, I slither out of his arms and make my way to my overnight bag. Glancing in the mirror, I’m stunned at my reflection. I look like a hooker after an all-night penthouse party in Vegas. Quietly, I slip into the bathroom for a little damage control. I don’t need to look pretty to go get coffee, but I do need to not smell.

I jump in his shower and make quick work of washing all of my bits and pieces, including scrubbing away the raccoon eyes. A smile crests my lips as the scent of Sawyer’s shampoo surrounds me. Is it weird that I’m excited to smell like a man? And not just any man, but this man, who smells like expensive rich soap and musky shampoo.

After the world’s fastest shower, I slip on clean shorts and a fitted tee, pull my hair up in a wet, messy bun, and brush my teeth. That’ll do. I don’t need makeup, right? Not if it’s gonna keep me from getting coffee into my lethargic system.

Opening the door, I tiptoe toward the bedroom door. I don’t even make it halfway there when I hear, “Going somewhere?” Sawyer is still lying in bed, his head under his arm, which just gives me the perfect view to ogle his arms and back. I almost have to fan myself. “Stop staring at me from across the room and get back in bed.”

“I was going to get coffee.”

“I think you should take off your shirt,” he refutes.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” I ask, glancing down at the Dierks Bentley concert tee from last summer.

“Nothing,” he says, turning and looking over his shoulder at me. His hair is a mess, which just begs for my fingers, and his eyes have a hungry, half-lidded appearance, which reminds me of sex. “It looks great on you, but I think it would look much better on the floor.”

“You do, do you?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. Sawyer rolls over and is pitching a tent with the sheet, which almost makes me forget about my need for caffeine.

“Definitely,” he whispers, hoarsely from sleep. “I think you should get back in bed.”

“I will once I get back from the bakery,” I reply, throwing him a wink before turning back to the door.

I hear the shifting of the covers and his feet hit the floor as I step from the room. He’s right behind me, I can feel it. Before I reach the landing at the top of the stairs, his big, strong arms snake around my waist and pull me back against his hard body.

And his very hard cock.

“Not so fast,” he growls against my ear. “You were going to leave without giving me a goodbye kiss.” Sawyer licks the shell of my ear before sucking it into his mouth. My entire body sparks to life, my blood pulsing through my veins.

“I would never,” I retort, slowly turning in his arms and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“I think you lie. You were going to sneak out of my house without a kiss, and therefore, I think you need to be punished.”

“Punished?” I gasp as he grips my ass hard in both hands, warm wetness flooding the apex of my legs.

“Do you like that?” Sawyer squeezes my rear once more before sliding his hands around and dipping one in the front of my shorts. I practically convulse when his warm fingers meet my wet core. “Oh, I think you do like that.”

Next thing I know, the offending shirt is being removed from my body, tossed over the banister, while my fingers grip his shaft. “Fuck,” he groans as I fist his erection and pump fast and hard.

“That’s the plan,” I whisper, my inner seductress taking over.

Sawyer lets me lead for a few moments as I drop to my knees. His cock jets from his body like a neon sign, the smooth skin pulled tight. My mouth is watering and I know exactly what I need to do; what I’ve wanted to do since the moment I first saw him.

Running my tongue along the ridged head, he tastes salty sweet, a taste I know I’ll never forget. I look up, my eyes locking on his wild ones as I run my tongue down the vein on the underside. He shivers, and his cock thickens even more.

I keep my eyes focused on his as I lean forward, taking him into my mouth, inch by glorious inch. Sawyer’s eyes turn to fire as he watches, one hand grabbing the bun at the back of my head. He guides me over him, but never forces me to take more than I can handle. I set the pace, which starts slow and torturous.

“Oh fuck, Alison,” he moans as his hips flex forward. He hits me at the back of the throat, making my eyes water and my hand tighten around him. I alternate between a hard suck and one that’s more of a tease with lots of tongue action. He seems to love the hell out of both.

Just when my hand starts to really pick up the pace and his eyes start to glass over, he moves. There’s a loud pop as the suction between his cock and my mouth are broken. Sawyer lifts me up and slams his lips down on mine. The kiss is hungry and pure sex as our tongues battle for control.

“Your punishment, remember?” he asks, pulling away from me.

“Punishment?” I ask, feigning innocence as he spins me around to face to wall.

His hands wrap around my stomach and I’m quickly relieved of my shorts. They’re followed instantaneously by my panties, which are flung haphazardly over his shoulder. Those things were useless, anyhow. Then he flicks the clasp of my bra, rendering me completely naked. “Yes, punishment,” he reminds as he gently places his hands between my shoulder blades, applying just a bit of pressure. The movement presses my chest against the wall and leaves my ass out, as if on display. “Do you recall telling me you weren’t going to leave without a goodbye kiss? I believe that was a lie, kitten,” he groans, running his big hands up my thighs and across the globes of my ass.

“Oh, that,” I pant, anxiously waiting what’s next. My inner hussy is fully on board with whatever he has planned.

“Yes, that,” he bites out, just as the loud smack echoes off the walls. My ass burns from his hand, but the pleasure that mixes with it is intoxicating. My yelp and the sting are followed immediately by his soothing hand as he rubs the burning flesh.

“Are you sorry for lying to me?” he asks as he moves from my sore cheek to the other, where he kneads and grips my ass.

“Yes,” I huff, holding my breath as I wait for what’s to come.

Smack.

A deep groan rips from my gut, the pain and pleasure crashing together like a tidal wave. His hand continues to massage my smarted flesh, first one cheek and then the other. I can feel the wetness slipping down my thighs as I press my chest farther into the wall, offering my ass up for more.

He delivers two more spankings, one on each ass cheek, before pulling away completely. Instantly, I miss his touch. Sawyer pulls me back from the wall, but presses my palms on the wall. “Don’t move,” he instructs before disappearing into his bedroom.

The only sound is my own breathing, which is labored and anxious. I maintain my position, not moving a muscle. Though, the prospect of being punished again does hold quite a bit of appeal.

“Good girl,” he boasts as he comes back into the foyer. His hands grab just below my butt and slide up, massaging the still tender skin. “Seeing your ass red with my handprint is the biggest fucking turn on.”

I try to speak, but the words just don’t come.

“Come here,” he requests as he grabs one hand from the wall and pulls me to the banister. It extends the entire length of the top foyer, ensuring a splendid view of the living area below.

Grasping the banister tightly, I prepare myself for what’s to come next. Fortunately, I don’t have to wait long. Sawyer guides my hips, positioning my feet just a bit wider than my shoulders. “Do you like to be spanked, Alison?”

“Yes.” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own.

“Did it turn you on?”

“Yes.”

He guides his hands down to my thighs and then back up. “Christ, you’re so fucking wet.” He flicks my clit with his fingers, resulting in another loud moan of pleasure. “You ready for my dick, Alison?”

“Yes,” I beg.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart. This is gonna be a bumpy ride.”

Sawyer takes his place behind me, the coarse hairs of his legs tickling my overly sensitive butt. Hands spread wide, he moves them up my back, his thumbs tracing the bumps of my spine. I feel one hand leave my back as he takes his position. His cock nudges at my pussy, making me whimper with need. “You ready, Alison?”

“Yes.”

He pushes into me, torturously slow, coating himself with my wetness. Then, he pulls back, and when he moves, he releases what feels like years of pent-up sexual tension on me. His pace is fast, his movements hard, and I’m embarrassed to admit that it actually takes me no time at all until I’m screaming his name and coming harder than ever before.

Sawyer’s right there with me, grunting and howling his own release. His hands grip my ass as he thrusts once more before finally stilling. My body falls limp against the banister, his doing the same and caging me in.

“I’m not sure I’m alive. I think I might have died and gone to heaven,” he huffs against my back. His mouth moves gently, placing open-mouthed kisses along my sweaty spine.

“Me either,” I wheeze, “but what a way to go.”

Sawyer kisses my neck and wraps his arms around my midsection. “That was pretty amazing. I might just decide to keep you here with me all the time, sweetheart.” He drags his lips down my back, but my sex-fogged brain is stuck on his comment.

My heart hammers in my chest at the thought of staying. It’s way too soon to think like that, but now that the seed is planted, it’s starting to take root. It’s not like I haven’t been caught up in the smoke and mirrors of smooth talkers before. Oh, I’ve definitely met my fair share of men who talk a big game and can’t follow through for shit. I’ve judged them so wrong before that I wonder if I’m able to actually tell the good ones from the rotten tomatoes.

Sawyer feels like a good one. Besides the fact that the sex is dynamite, there’s also the fact that I like spending time with him and talking. It’s not just about sex with him, and I don’t get the impression that it’s that way for him either. He’s attentive, supportive, and nothing like those other frogs I’ve kissed. I think I have a good one.

I just pray that I’m right.

* * *

When Sawyer hops in the shower, I head down to the kitchen for food. It’s nearly four in the afternoon, so breakfast is out. Hell, lunch is out too. It’s nearly dinnertime as I check his fridge for something I could make for a quick meal. I’m meeting everyone at the hospital at five thirty so that gives me just enough time to eat and freshen up before heading out.

Maybe Sawyer will want to go with me.

I’m smiling to myself as I pull chicken breasts and fresh broccoli from the refrigerator, and a pound of whole grain pasta from the pantry. It takes me a few moments to locate a large pan for the noodles and a skillet for the chicken. I’m just grabbing a large kitchen knife when the doorbell rings. I’m not really familiar with what protocol is for answering the guy you’re sleeping with’s door, but I don’t really have time to ask Siri.

The doorbell chimes a second time, which spurs me into action. I round the corner in the dining room and enter the foyer. I glance up and spy my panties hanging from the light–clear up on the second floor.

Awesome.

The doorbell rings a third time. Releasing the deadbolt, I swing open the door and stop dead in my tracks. There, standing on the front porch of the man I’m sleeping with is Carrie Doherty, all five foot ten inch, one-hundred pounds soaking wet, Victoria’s Secret model, and actress in the latest Chris Pine movie, Carrie.

And Sawyer’s ex-wife.

“Can I help you?” I ask when I find words.

“And you are?” she asks, looking me up and down from behind her designer sunglasses. I’m sure she notices my wrinkled clothes, my makeup-less face, and my recently sexed-up hair, and by the look of disdain pouring from her body, she clearly finds me lacking.

“AJ,” I say sweetly, though on the inside my tone is anything but.

“You must be another one of his girls.” The way she says it instantly grates on my nerves.

“I’m his only girl,” I grind out, probably also grinding down my molars.

She laughs–actually laughs in my face. “Oh, that’s cute. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’ll never be his only girl. Believe me, I thought the same thing once upon a time, and I had his ring on my finger.” Carrie makes a gesture with her hand, showing me her now-empty ring finger.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I ask.

“I need to speak with Sawyer,” she states bluntly.

“I’m sorry, he’s not available at the moment. Maybe if you had called first, we could have saved you a trip,” I reply, starting to close the door.

Her perfectly manicured eagle talon slams on the door. “Listen, sweetheart, I’m sure it’s all wine and roses at this point, but let me give you a piece of free advice. Sawyer Randall is a cheater and a liar. Unless you want to spend your nights at home, alone, while he’s out living the highlife with girls younger and much prettier than you, then I suggest you move along, because a man like Sawyer doesn’t change. He didn’t for me, and he surely won’t change for a measly school teacher who wears last year’s Target line and doesn’t know how to moisturize,” she spews, her perfume-laced venom flying in my direction and, sadly, hitting its mark.

I gape at the gorgeous woman in front of me, reeling from her words, and wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

“You don’t want to believe those rag magazines, fine. But believe the woman who was married to him for three years. Sawyer Randall will use you until he’s had his fill and then walk away without a care in the world. He’s completely–”

“Carrie?” His voice is like a salve to my soul and the nail driven straight into it, all at the same time. “What are you doing here?” he asks as he comes down the stairs and approaches the door.

“Sawyer,” she gushes, stepping around me and into his house, and straight into his arms. Well, actually, he’s just standing there, shocked by her appearance, maybe? Or maybe it’s the fact that he wasn’t expecting company and he’s only wearing a towel?

Fun times.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, stepping back and out of her reach.

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by,” she coos, touching her chest and smiling her blinding white smile at her ex.

My Sawyer.

“The neighborhood? I find that hard to believe since you don’t know anyone from Jupiter Bay,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. The action actually makes that sexy V of his lower abdomen that much more pronounced before it dives into the stark white towel.

“Actually, I’m shooting some photos just up the road. Sports Illustrated is shooting their Swimsuit Issue and I’m featured. Isn’t that wonderful?” she asks, taking a step closer to him.

My mind is like an ADHD person on speed. I can’t seem to focus on anything. Not the fact that she’s here and as beautiful as ever, not the fact that he’s practically naked and every bit the sexy professional athlete, and definitely not the fact that my panties are swinging from the chandelier above our heads. Okay, maybe I’m able to focus a little on that last one. Sawyer must notice my lack of attention too and follows my line of sight skyward. When he realizes what he’s looking at, his face quickly looks back to mine. He wears an amused glimmer in his eyes and a dirty little smirk on his lips.

“…so you see why I had to stop by and say hello, right?” Carrie asks, drawing our attention back to the fact that we’re not alone in the house.

“Yeah. No, wait.” Sawyer drops his head and takes a deep breath. “Can you stay right here, Carrie? I’ll be right back,” he says moments before flying up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I’ve seen that look on his face before,” Carrie says while checking her nails. “He’s probably already screwing the cleaning lady, sweetie.” And as if it couldn’t get any worse, Carrie finally looks up and sighs. “He’s always had…wild tastes.”

Before I can say a word, Sawyer reappears at the top of the steps wearing basketball shorts and pulling a clean t-shirt over his head. He tried to tame his out-of-control, wet locks with his hand, but it didn’t work. He looks delicious, so very sexy, and recently screwed.

I can’t help but smile at that.

“AJ, would you mind waiting for me in the kitchen? I’ll be in there in a few minutes,” he says casually as he descends the stairs.

I’ll be honest; I’m a little stunned at his request. Is it because whatever they need to discuss is a private matter between exes or is there something more to this? If I follow my mind, it’s sprinting straight toward the picture Carrie just so beautifully painted of her manwhore ex-husband. That alone has me ready to slip on my running shoes and get the hell out of Dodge. Been there, done that.

Don’t even want the fucking t-shirt.

But then there’s my heart, and that pesky little organ keeps insisting there’s more to the story than meets the eye. And it’s that trust I’m instilling in him that has me nodding at his request. “Sure.”

I make my way towards the kitchen, leaving Sawyer and his ex-wife in the foyer. With each step I take, I send up a silent prayer that it wasn’t a mistake to place blind trust in a man I really don’t know that well.

Hopefully, I haven’t made the biggest mistake of all.