Page 22 of Beautiful Desire (Blossom Beach #3)

Georgia

“ I ’m beyond jealous that you’re almost home,” Charley mutters through the speakers in my car. “Past Charley clearly hates me for agreeing to this evening shift tonight.”

“You’ll be fine, I promise.” Turning onto my street, I groan as I pull into the driveway and cut the ignition. So much for getting to ignore responsibility for another night. “His car is already here.”

“You’ll be fine, I promise.” She snorts, parroting my words back at me. “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I don’t see why not,” I murmur obtusely.

It’s been two days since I lost my damn mind in the living room with my best friend and my stepbrother, demolishing lines that never should’ve even been approached, much less crossed.

Charley and I are close enough—and well, we’ve done this once before—so it’s not awkward between us. Fletcher, on the other hand…

“Georgia, you know you have to talk about what happened, so just get it over with. You’re making this a much bigger deal than it needs to be.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mumble. “You’re not the one who let her stepbrother eat her out.”

Charley barks out a laugh. “Okay, first of all, if I had a stepbrother, one who looked like that and was as eager as Fletcher was to make me come, I absolutely would.” The image of his head in between my thighs flashes in my mind, and I groan as Charley continues.

“And second of all, I have never seen you be so avoidant with a man before. You’re, like, queen of confrontation, and I gotta admit, this timid, nervous side that Fletcher brings out in you is adorable. ”

“It’s not adorable.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, but make no move to get out. “And I’m not timid or nervous. I just don’t like him, so why would I want to sit down and have a conversation about what happened, when we’re both adults and know it’s never happening again.”

“You absolutely are timid around him,” she pushes, and I can hear the humor in her voice. “I’ve never seen you blush or be at a loss for words, like you are with him. Put on your big girl pants and have the damn conversation you and I both know needs to happen.”

I groan, letting my head fall back on the seat. “You’re annoying, and I don’t like you very much at the moment.”

“You love me. Now, quit being such a chickenshit, and do it already.” She snorts. “And if you happen to end the night by riding that nice cock of his, then so be it.”

“That’s not fucking happening,” I growl as I climb out of the car.

“Right, whatever you say. But just know, I will be offended if you don’t record that shit and send it to me when it’s over.

Okay, love you, byeee.” Charley hangs up before I can say anything, and I shake my head to myself as I walk up to the front door.

That’s not happening. The other day was a mistake…

a huge one, and it’s not going to be something I ever repeat. Period.

The house is quiet as I step inside, and I don’t see Fletcher anywhere.

After I kick off my shoes and set down my purse, I stroll into the kitchen, and that’s when I hear it—the shower running.

I’ve never seen a man shower as frequently as Fletcher does.

At minimum, it’s twice a day—three, if he goes to the gym—and he takes forever in there.

I don’t even want to know how high my next water bill is going to be.

Pouring myself a glass of wine, I decide to busy myself with some candle work before I start dinner.

Going through my conversation with Charley in my head, I know she’s right—Fletcher and I have to talk about what happened.

We live together, so it’s not like we can avoid this giant, forbidden elephant in the room forever, but fuck , I really don’t want to, mostly because I’m so damn confused.

I’ve always prided myself on being a very sex-positive woman.

I make no apologies for enjoying sex and for prioritizing my own pleasure.

I mean, men do it all the time with absolutely no backlash from society, so why shouldn’t women?

There are very few instances where I’ve hooked up with somebody, and then later, regretted it, but this feels different.

Like, I should regret what happened the other day.

He’s my fucking stepbrother , and letting him watch me hook up with Charley before allowing him to eat me out is the exact situation I should regret—but I just… don’t.

Yeah, the situation is awkward, and it’s obviously never going to happen again, but I’m grown enough to admit how hot it was while it was happening.

And yet, I can’t seem to shake this heaviness in my gut for acknowledging that, almost like there’s something wrong with me for not feeling shame about what I did.

Like I said…confusing.

Hence why I haven’t been in a rush to talk to him about it, but Charley is right, and as the sound of footsteps draws closer in the hallway, I know my time of avoidance is coming to an end.

Despite knowing he’s there, I purposely keep my focus on the task in front of me instead of looking in his direction.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up, feeling his gaze on me.

“What are you working on?” he asks after quietly observing me for a minute.

“Printing labels to place on the candles,” I murmur, still avoiding looking over at him.

Sauntering over to the table I’m standing in front of, he takes me by surprise when he asks, “Want some help?”

I lift my gaze, finally looking at him and immediately wishing I hadn’t.

My mouth dries and my heart races as I take in the sight before me.

He’s wearing an army green crop top muscle tee and tight, black short shorts, with his bulging, chiseled muscles on full display.

If I had to guess, he probably hit the gym after he left work earlier this afternoon.

Tousled dark brown strands, still wet from the shower, hang over his forehead, and when he flashes me a boyish grin, I notice the mustache above his lip looks cleaned up, like maybe he trimmed it before his shower.

Heat spreads low in my belly, vividly remembering the way his facial hair tickled my pussy in the very best way. I hate it.

Clearing my throat, I shake my head. “No, thanks. I got it.”

“You sure?” Brow cocked, he scans the table. “Looks like you’ve got a ton to get through. I don’t mind helping.”

I press my lips together and breathe through my nose for a moment before begrudgingly accepting his offer.

Once I show him how to apply the labels to the tins properly, I get back to printing while trying—and failing—to ignore how the air between us is quickly becoming suffocating.

Then Charley’s words come back to me: “Quit being such a chickenshit.”

So, keeping my eyes locked on the screen, I swallow around the lump in my throat. “We should probably talk about what happened.”

“Okay, let’s talk then,” he drawls, not missing a beat.

This doesn’t have to be weird, I tell myself as a thin layer of sweat lines the back of my neck. This is just another hookup, so I should treat it like I would any other time.

“Well, what happened wasn’t exactly planned,” I start, annoyed by how quiet my voice comes out. “So, I guess I want to see where your head’s at with it, and make sure you’re okay.”

There’s a beat of silence from Fletcher, and when I look over at him, he’s already watching me with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’m doing great, Peach,” he rasps, and a shiver rolls down my spine at that nickname falling from his mouth.

“Reliving your writhing body underneath me as you came all over my tongue has been superior spank bank material the last couple days, and I cannot fucking wait to do it again.”

My heart catapults against my ribs, and I forget how to breathe for a moment until my brain catches up with the last part. “Uh, no,” I blurt out. “It’s not happening again. Ever. ”

Fletcher stares at me with furrowed brows. “Why the fuck not? Don’t even pretend you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

Yeah, that’s part of the problem.

“Because it’s not,” I say instead. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, and had I not been tipsy from the wine, I never would’ve done that.”

“Don’t fucking do that.” He scoffs.

“Do what?”

“Blame it on alcohol, like a coward. You’re many things, Georgia, but you aren’t a coward.”

Irritation lances through my chest. “Don’t act like you suddenly know me.”

“Sure, I don’t know everything, but I do know you want me just as badly as I want you. The only difference is, I’m not scared to admit it.”

“I’m not scared,” I bite out. “One lapse in judgement does not mean I want you; it means I was horny, and you were a means to an end to get off. And it won’t be happening again.”

“Bullshit, Georgia.” Fletcher huffs a dry laugh. “If you really just wanted to get off, Charley could’ve done that. I heard the way you made yourself come the other night after getting that picture from me. You may not like me very much, but your body sure as hell does.”

The entire time he’s talking, he’s also still placing labels on the little round tins, taking his time to make sure they go on neatly, and it’s oddly attractive to watch.

Fuck, knock it off, Georgia. Now is not the time to get turned on.

“Honestly, everything you said is irrelevant,” I mutter.

“I was horny. You made me come. Of course, it was enjoyable—it was an orgasm—but that doesn’t mean it was specifically you that did it for me, and it definitely doesn’t mean it’s happening again.

You’re my stepbrother, and like you said, I don’t fucking like you, so enjoy the taste you got, because you’ll never get another. ”

Fletcher shakes his head, a smirk pulling at his lips, but he doesn’t even bother looking at me as he murmurs, “Whatever you say, Peach.”