Page 29 of Not That Guy

Brenner

I opened my eyes to gentle snoring. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but predawn light laid a filter over the sky, softening the harsh, hard edges of the skyscrapers shooting upward outside my windows.

I inched away from Weston and gazed at him sprawled across my bed, and it gave me a chance to stare at—okay, ogle—him.

He was naked, his cock half-full and resting on his thigh.

His body was beautiful—flat, muscled abs, golden hair lightly covering his chest. A shocking bolt of lust streaked through me, and I cursed the fact that I still hurt and felt open and sore from having him inside me.

A hungry ache throbbed low in my belly. I wanted him to wake up, but the snoring continued, and despite my rising lust, I grinned.

I couldn’t wait to tell Mr. Perfect what a noisy sleeper he was.

“ Mmm , Bren? Where are you?” he mumbled, sweeping a hand across the empty space I’d vacated. He cracked open one eye. “What time is it? Why’re you awake?”

Much less tender, my ribs gave only a slight protest when I bent to place a kiss at the base of his strong neck.

His pulse jumped, and I didn’t miss the catch in his breath.

For someone so purposeful and driven in his everyday life, Weston’s emotions lay surprisingly close to the surface, and I liked being the one who left him trembling with desire.

“I thought a rhinoceros had entered my apartment.” I smirked. “You snore.”

At that, his eyes popped open. “I do not.”

My smirk broadened. “You do. Like a freight train. Or an elephant.” I fell on the bed, making snorting noises, and he growled and straddled me, his now fully erect cock hitting my stomach, which fluttered. It was my turn to lose my breath.

“Take it back.” His nose brushed mine, full lips close enough to feel the vibration of his voice.

“No.”

A dangerous glint lit his eyes. “I don’t snore. You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie.” I cackled. “You snore. Loudly.” I made some more garbled noises.

The delicious friction of his dick against my raging hard-on proved too much to ignore, and I gripped us both. Weston grunted, and his chest rose and fell rapidly as I began to pump us.

“You’re trying to distract me from your insult,” he panted.

“ Mmm , how’s that working for you?”

“What? It’s— ohhhh ,” he groaned as I squeezed our red, sticky heads in my fist, remembering he’d liked that.

His mouth took mine in a hard, almost savage kiss, and I fucking lost it.

Our teeth clashed, and our tongues, slick and hot, slid and tangled.

Weston rode my hand, a low growl escaping him.

He trailed wet kisses along my jaw, buried his face in my neck, and sucked and nipped the skin before biting my earlobe.

“Fuck,” I gasped, and he did it again and again until I lay beneath him, pleading. “West…God…oh, fuck.”

On fire, my body seized and I exploded, coming undone. My cock jerked and spilled out streams of come, and Weston followed a moment later, shaking and moaning. The sun rose, glittering fire on the water and a ship’s horn sounded in the distance.

I forgot about my ribs and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, kissing my cheek.

The rapid pump of his heart matched mine. “You couldn’t.”

Sticky with come and sweat, we stayed locked together.

I had no idea what was running through Weston’s mind, but mine was galloping.

This insatiable hunger for each other had proven not to be a one-time thing, nor something that happened only when we’d had too much to drink.

I wanted Weston, but that damn devil of insecurity over our differences made it hard for me to believe he could want me too.

I thought about that even as he kissed my shoulder and I sighed with contentment.

The man came from a billionaire dynasty—oil, cattle, politics—while I’d been found in a drug raid, abandoned by my mother, no father. Only through sheer luck had I found Pearl and Bill.

“I can almost hear your mind spinning.” Weston rolled off me but lay on his side. Sharp eyes I was used to seeing across a conference table held my gaze. “What’s wrong?” A shadow crossed his face. “Are you having second thoughts about this? Us?”

“No.” My swift response drove away his frown.

He skimmed his fingers from my abs to my chest, tweaking my nipples lightly. “Then what? And don’t say nothing, because I know you.”

I shook my head. “No, you don’t. That’s the thing. I don’t even know who I am. And I know you say it’s all bullshit, but I’m not sure it is.”

“Have you ever tried looking for your mother? Do you know anything about her?”

I broke away from that intense scrutiny and stared out the windows to the river. Good thing I was twenty-six stories up with no direct view into my apartment. Only the birds got an eyeful of Weston and me.

“No and no. My foster parents didn’t even want to tell me the truth until I forced them to.

They always said she must’ve had a rough life and didn’t know any better, but she kept me, which meant she wanted to be a mother.

She just didn’t know how. Drug addiction is a terrible sickness.

I just wish she could’ve gotten the help she needed. ”

He brushed the hair off my face. “That’s true. The easy thing for her would’ve been not to have you. I’m sure she loved you.”

“It took me years to come to that realization. When I was young, I never wanted to meet her because I wouldn’t know what to say.

I resented her for choosing drugs over her own child.

I know now that she was so young and had no support.

I don’t blame her anymore. Maybe she left me behind, hoping I’d end up with a better life than the one she could give me.

” Weston tried to hold me, but I pushed him away.

“I don’t want your pity,” I grumbled, embarrassed at letting down my guard.

“Shut up.” He put his arms around me, and this time I allowed it, but I still couldn’t relax.

“You made it out when so many don’t, and you are a success.

I don’t pity you. At all. I admire you. There’s a difference.

” His eyes narrowed. “Is that what’s bothering you? That I come from money and you don’t?”

I rolled my eyes at his words. “Jesus, West, could you be any more simplistic? That’s like saying a diamond and a piece of glass are the same, just a little different. You come from a family dynasty. I’m from a foster family.”

“Who loves you unconditionally,” West stated quietly, and it broke my heart.

I couldn’t argue with that, but I still had reservations. “Your father is a United States senator running for the presidency. What if someone found out about us? It could make trouble for him. I know you say you don’t care, but—”

“Fuck that,” he snapped. “I don’t live my life according to how it might affect my father. I do what I want. Let’s shower. I need coffee.”

About to protest that we weren’t finished, my skin started to itch. He was right. We were both a mess. “This conversation isn’t over.”

He rolled out of bed. “It is for now.” And walked away toward my bathroom, leaving me fuming.

I muttered to myself, “One day I’ll come out on top with this bastard.”

But I followed him, and soon we were wet and soapy and I forgot about my complaints.

**

We lazed around all day on my terrace, and as someone who spent most of his weekends either at the office, working, or alone, it was nice to have someone to share my time with.

We took a walk to pick up lobster rolls and fries and decided to eat them by the river.

Weston finished his first, and watching him looking at the boats sailing past, I licked the butter off my fingers.

“What would you be doing if you weren’t here with me?” I asked him just as he picked one of my fries. I glared. “I hate when people eat off my plate.”

“And I love doing it. Besides, you’re too slow. It becomes fair game after twenty minutes. That’s the rule.” He snickered. “And what would I be doing? Probably sleeping away the morning, then seeing if anyone wanted to have lunch or go out tonight.”

“You go clubbing every weekend?” The distaste in my voice couldn’t have been more obvious. Or was it condemnation? I wasn’t a prude, but I imagined Weston with a different woman every weekend, and my stomach turned.

“No, but I hate being alone on the weekends.” He nudged my foot with his. “Hey. Listen, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not true.”

Doubtful, but I was curious to hear what he had to say. “Now you’re a mind reader? What am I thinking?”

“That every weekend I pick up random women and hook up with them.”

Hmm . Maybe he was more insightful than I thought. “Well, I mean, that’s what it sounds like.”

“I’m no Boy Scout, Bren, and I never claimed to be, but that doesn’t mean I bang every woman I see.

” Pink dusted his cheeks. “Besides, after that time…with the two of us…you know, last year? I was only with a few other people, but it never came anywhere close to what it was like between us. What about you? How do you spend your weekends?”

He reached for another fry, and I pulled away the basket and took some, not because I was hungry, but to give myself a chance to think. “Work. Working out. Sometimes a movie or a date.” I mustered a smile. “King of the dating apps here.”

Weston didn’t seem fazed. “It’s the way of the world now.”

“I guess.” Finished with my food, I tossed the bag into the trash bin. “Want to take a walk? It’s not too hot yet.”

We strolled along the river, then through the Time Out Market, where we had a few beers before deciding to splurge on ice cream.

Cones in hand, we made our way down Front Street, where visitors and influencers jockeyed for space to pose and take that iconic shot with the Manhattan Bridge behind them.

Weston leaned in close and licked my cone, and my eyes widened with shock.

“What the hell was that? Did you just lick my cone?”