Page 15

Chapter Thirteen

G annon

“I’m here,” I say, pulling up to the curb in front of a small green house with white shutters. The place is lit up like the Fourth of July.

“Gan, I owe you one,” Tate says. “Thanks for doing this. I know rescuing women isn’t in your repertoire.”

You’d be surprised what’s in my repertoire lately.

I clear the GPS on my dash. “Want to give me her address in case she’s out of it?”

“Yeah. Good idea. Hang on, and let me find it.”

I roll down the passenger’s side window and take in the address Tate gave me to Courtney’s.

In what can only be described as a work of God, Carys revealed via text what I know she’d only normally tell Tate.

And once I pieced together what was going on—and that there was no way in hell she was grabbing a rideshare with a stranger while inebriated—all it took was a quick call to innocently put myself in the middle of the situation.

And Tate will remain none the wiser.

“All right,” Tate says. “It’s 3086 Aviana Drive.”

I punch that into my system and watch as the maps calculate the fastest route. “Got it.”

“I know I’ve already said it, but thank you for picking her up. Small miracles, I guess.”

“That’s me. A miracle worker.”

Tate snorts. “Let me know how it goes.”

“See ya.”

“Bye.”

I take a deep breath and then call Carys’s phone. It rings all the way through before her voicemail picks up.

My jaw ticks as I press her name again. It rings five times before she answers.

“Hello?” she says, clearly confused. “Gannon?”

“You have two choices, Miss Johnson.”

“Is that so?”

“You can come outside and get in my car so I can drive you home. Or I can come inside and make a spectacle in front of all your friends. You choose.”

She hums. “How do you even know where I am?”

“Do you want to test me?”

“Maybe.”

I sigh. “Tate gave me the address. I put it in my GPS—the same GPS that currently shows me that it will take eight minutes to get to your house.”

“You asked Tate where I am?” she squeaks.

“No, I didn’t. He asked me to come get you. Funny how things work out sometimes. Now, get in this fucking car, or I’m coming in.”

“I thought we established earlier today that you would not, in fact, be coming in anything to do with me.”

My teeth grind so hard that I can hear them.

“Fine,” she says, huffing. “I’m coming.”

“I’m in front of the house.”

She disconnects the call, and I wait. People stream in and out, climbing into cars and some walking down the sidewalk. No one appears to be too intoxicated to drive, thank God. Carys appears on the porch just as my impatience begins to get to me.

Ho-ly fuck .

My eyes nearly fall out of my head as she steps onto the sidewalk.

Her dress hugs her curves, showcasing her full chest and narrow waist. Her legs are long as hell. Instead of her usual ponytail, her hair’s styled into loose curls that make me want to wrap my hands in it and pull.

I hop out of the car as she gets closer and pull the passenger’s side door open. I’m careful not to breathe her in, and I definitely don’t make physical contact.

My restraint has limitations.

“Now you want to be a gentleman?” she asks, swaying on her heels.

This woman . “Just get in the fucking car.”

She pauses. “Yes, Gannon, I’d love a ride home. Thank you so much for being so kind about it.”

I stare at her.

She rolls her eyes but climbs inside.

I slam the door a little harder than necessary.

“Buckle up,” I say as I get in my side and fasten mine.

“Yes, Daddy.”

My hand stills. “ Don’t .”

“Why?” Her pretty little eyes sparkle with mischief. “We know you won’t spank me.”

I glance down at the inside of her exposed thighs and swallow.

“Whoa,” she says as I hit the gas and propel us onto the street. “If you’re going to be a dick about this, you shouldn’t have come. I didn’t ask you to be my hero.”

“What was I supposed to do? Know you’ve been drinking and are going to take a rideshare home alone this late?”

“Who said I was going home alone?”

I look at her and catch her smirk.

The GPS says to take a right, so I do.

“Did Tate really ask you to come get me?” she asks.

I can’t tell whether she’s hopeful that he did or wishes he didn’t. Truthfully, I don’t know what I think anymore either. Carys scrambles my brain in every way, and I hate that she can get to me. No one gets to me. I’m un-get-to-able.

“Yes, he did,” I say.

“ Oh .”

The dejection in her voice is evident, and I feel like a prick. But I won’t admit that I orchestrated this. Even so, I can be a little more honest with her.

“Tate and I happened to be on the phone,” I say, sighing. “It just worked out.”

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t say a word for the rest of the way to her house. Her head rests against the headrest, and her eyes flutter closed. The pucker of her lips is sweet, and it takes everything in me not to brush mine against them.

Not to slip my hand between her thighs.

Not to pull her tits out of that fucking dress.

The pent-up frustration—that’s grown through the afternoon and evening—has reached its crescendo, and I’m about to blow in so many ways.

I turn the car off and get out. The night air is warm and windless. The sky overhead is dark and starless. It’s a suspended moment in time that I’m sure will be etched in my mind for all eternity.

She startles awake once I open her door and the streetlight shines on her face.

“Hey,” I say, catching the way my voice has unintentionally softened. “Ready to go inside?”

“ What? Yeah.” She nods as if the situation is just making sense. “Where’s my purse?”

“On the floor. I’ll grab it. Let’s get you out of there first.”

She places her small hand in mine and uses me as leverage to swing her legs around, but as soon as her feet touch the ground, she winces.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“These shoes. I don’t know if I can walk in them.”

“Want to take them off?”

She nods nervously, placing one hand on her stomach. “I’m afraid if I bend over, I might puke.”

Great . I exhale harshly and drop to one knee. What the fuck am I doing ?

“Give me your foot,” I say, holding out a hand.

She lifts her right leg and places her sole in my palm.

I hold my breath and focus on her shoe and not on the fact that my face is level with her pussy.

Why are you doing this to yourself, Brewer? You’re not even a nice guy. You could’ve easily avoided this.

I slide a hand up the back of her leg, then wrap it around her calf. She gasps a small breath just loud enough for me to hear. I force a swallow, feeling the softness of her bare skin against my palm, and undo the clasp with my free hand.

“There,” I say quietly, removing the shoe from her foot.

Our eyes meet as I turn to her other foot. The power of the connection stalls my movement, and I search her eyes— for what ? I don’t know. But I’m sure that she has the power to make a mess of my life if I let her. I’m also pretty damn sure I’d consider it, given the chance.

Don’t lose your head, asshole.

My fingers drag around her other leg before sinking into her delicate skin. The clasp comes off easily, and the shoe falls into my hand. I linger a moment, absorbing the contact, before placing her foot gently on the pavement.

“How’s that?” I ask, standing with her shoes dangling from my fingers.

“Great.” She holds my gaze as she stands. There’s a storm of emotion in her baby blues, triggering a wave of heated emotions coursing through my body. “I can make it from here.”

I reach for her purse and hand it to her. I need to send her on her way—get the fuck out of here—and put some distance between us before I’m balls deep inside her.

“I’m walking you inside,” I say instead . Oh, that’s fucking great. Have my brain and body forgotten how to communicate?

“Suit yourself.”

I shut the door behind her and follow her from a safe distance. She rummages around in her purse for her keys. Then, after a bit of fumbling, she undoes the lock.

“Home sweet home,” she says, reaching inside and turning on the light. Then she faces me. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. Do I ask you to come in for a drink? Or tell you to kick rocks?”

“I think you’ve had enough drinks for one night.”

She laughs knowingly. “That’s probably true.” She steps inside the foyer and takes a deep, labored breath. “Thank you for bringing me home. I know it probably pained you to be alone with me since you only wanted to see me in a public place, but I do appreciate it.”

“Will you stop it?”

“Stop what?” She flinches. “Look, I have had a lot of wine tonight, but didn’t our texts start tonight with you saying you want to meet me in public? As a matter of fact, didn’t you initiate this conversation tonight? Don’t tell me to stop it. Stop yourself.”

I stare at her. She lifts her chin and meets my gaze head-on.

Her advice is spot-on. I need to stop myself. Except … I can’t.

“This isn’t exactly public, but you might as well say what you wanted to say,” she says, narrowing her eyes as if she’s over my antics. “It’ll save us time.”

I wanted to meet her to tell her that what happened today in the maintenance closet can’t happen again, and I wanted to ensure it was a public meeting so it couldn't happen again. Because every time I’m around her, all I want to do is touch her.

Keep her there as long as possible. But here we are, alone, with her looking like a fucking dream.

All the strength I had earlier when plotting my plan is gone.

I want her. My God, I want this woman . I want her in every way, in every position, every day.

“Well, speak,” she says, lifting a brow. “Or don’t.”

She swings the door to shut it, but I catch it just before it latches.

I step inside the foyer as she disappears around the corner, tossing her shoes next to a little bench. They rattle as they hit the floor.

“If you don’t want me in here, you better tell me now,” I call after her.

“I don’t give a shit what you do.”

“Nice.” I groan, closing the door and following the sound of her voice. “Are you just going to keep walking away from me?”