Page 29 of From the Wreckage

Everett

Grayson and I finish the last board, the deck looking damn near new by the time we’re done. He claps me on the back, sweat dripping down his temples. “Appreciate the help, man.”

A vehicle rumbles in the driveway. I look up and see Tom’s truck.

“Why don’t you come in, watch the game with Tom and me? Have a beer,” Grayson offers.

I force a smile, wiping my hands on a rag. The thought of sitting inside with them while Bri is stretched out in that bikini on the deck… yeah, no. “Thanks, but I should probably grab a shower. Been out here all day.”

“Suit yourself,” he says with a shrug.

Tom gets out, and I shake his hand before climbing into my truck.

As I start the engine, I glance toward the side of the cabin. Bri gives me a slow and sexy grin before wiggling her fingers in a little wave.

I grit my teeth, waving at her as Tom and Grayson head through the front door. Then I back out, muttering to myself, “I need a damn cold shower. Or an ice bath.”

Back at my place, the silence is a relief. By the time I strip off and step under the spray, my mind isn’t on boards, measurements, or even the sweat on my skin.

It’s on her.

The wink behind her sunglasses. The wicked little curve of her smile. The heat in her eyes when she stretched out like temptation itself.

I linger in the shower too long, barely resisting the urge to stroke my dick to thoughts of her.

My jaw hurts from clenching it so hard. I give in to temptation and stroke myself to thoughts of her.

I imagine peeling her tiny bikini off her tight, sexy body.

Teasing her until she’s a whimpering mess, begging for my cock.

Sliding inside her while staring into her hazel eyes lit up with desire, her nails digging into my back as I steadily thrust inside her.

When she whispers, “Harder, Everett. Fuck me harder,” I’m done.

It only takes a few more strokes of my hand before I’m releasing my come all over the shower wall.

By the time I cut the water off, steam curls thick around me, my pulse thudding like I’ve been sprinting instead of standing still. I drag on a pair of sweatpants, towel dry my hair, and heave out a long sigh?—

A knock rattles the door.

I freeze .

Oh, shit. Is it Grayson or Tom? Fuck… I’m not sure I can look either in the eye after what I just did. Fantasizing about Grayson’s daughter….

The knock comes again. Then my phone buzzes on the counter.

Angel: Open the door.

My heart slams against my ribs. I grab the phone, reading it twice, before I’m moving, snatching up the gift bag from the table—the one I never got to give her—and yanking the door open.

And there she is.

Cut-off shorts showing endless legs, a faded tee knotted at her waist, hazel eyes sparking with mischief. She’s every fantasy I’ve ever had. But this time it’s real, dangerous, and standing on my damn porch.

“Angel,” I rasp.

She grins, wide and wicked, then launches herself into my arms. I haul her inside, slam the door shut, and kiss her like I’ve been starving. She tastes like sunshine and sin, her hands fisting in my damp hair, dragging me closer until there’s no space left.

When I finally break for air, both of us are breathing hard.

I rest my forehead against hers. “Best surprise ever. And I’ve got one for you, too.” I lift the bag between us, my pulse hammering. “Meant to give you this at dinner… but considering how everything went…”

Her smile softens as she peeks inside. She reads the card first, and my chest aches watching her eyes flick across the words.

Then she lifts the necklace from the box, the silver catching the light. She gasps, tears flooding her eyes. “You remembered.”

“Course I did.” My voice comes out rough. “You told me once, angel. That was enough.”

“Will you put it on me?” She turns, lifting her hair. My hands shake as I clasp the chain, the sunflower pendant resting against her warm skin. My knuckles brush her collarbone as I pull away, and she trembles.

When she faces me again, her lips part, her voice a whisper. “Everett…”

I don’t let her finish. I kiss her instead, slow and reverent at first, then deeper and harder until we’re both shaking.

Her body molds to mine, soft curves pressed against every hard edge. My hands slip beneath the hem of her shirt, dragging her closer. She moans into my mouth, and my restraint shatters.

I lift her, and her legs wrap around my waist like they’ve always belonged there. Carrying her to the couch, I lower us, finally breaking the kiss.

She looks up at me with blown pupils. Her lips are swollen from my mouth, her hands mapping my skin like she’s memorizing me.

“Everett…” she breathes, tugging me down.

I groan, kissing her hard, my hands roaming until I feel the warmth of bare skin beneath her shirt. She arches, a whimper leaving her lips, and I nearly unravel.

Her fingers tug at the waistband of my sweatpants. My breath hitches, my body jerking at the contact.

“Bri…” I capture her wrists gently, pinning them above her head, staring down at her. My chest heaves, and my damn pulse bangs like a war drum. “You’re killing me.”

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, lifting her hips into mine.

Christ. My vision tunnels. I lower my mouth to her neck, sucking lightly until she gasps, her nails clawing my back. The friction is devastating, every one of my nerves screaming to take more.

But I tear away, panting, my forehead pressed to hers. “Angel… if I don’t stop now, I won’t. And you deserve better than me taking you on this couch like I’m starving.”

Her hazel eyes flicker, wide and dazed. “Everett…”

I cup her cheek, softening my voice even though every muscle trembles with restraint. “You deserve a night where I can cherish every inch of you. Where I can show you just how much you mean to me.”

She blinks up at me, her lips parted, her chest rising hard against mine.

Slowly, she nods.

I kiss her once more—gentle and reverent—before forcing myself back, adjusting her shirt into place.

My knuckles brush her cheek. “You ruin me, angel,” I whisper.

And from the dazed, knowing smile curving her lips, I know she understands.