"Sawyer, don't do anything rash. You might know the facts, but you don’t know any details."
"Love you, Dad." I hang up. I pity him as much as I'm angry with him. I don't know that he deserves my anger, but I feel it in all directions right now.
The hottest, reddest, most concentrated anger, well, that's reserved for Beau Hayden.
30
Jessie
I findSawyer sitting in the dark. The last of the day’s light filters in through the living room window, allowing me to see that he’s on the couch, elbows propped on his knees, his chin resting on his hand.
"Hi," I say tentatively, flipping on a light. He blinks at the brightness.
I work my boots off my feet and look up when he doesn't respond. I don't understand the expression on his face. It's determined but also heartbroken. Something must have happened concerning his wife. Did he get a call about her? Some telemarketer looking for her? Is he spiraling because of that?
I go to him, standing in the space between his knees. “Are you okay?"
He looks up at me, blinking, like he's just realized I'm there. "I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine."
He doesn't say anything. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now. I walk to the kitchen and open the fridge, searching for something to make for dinner. Sawyer usually cooks, but the kitchen is free from any hints of a meal being prepared. I take out the bread and butter, the sliced cheese.
"I hope you're okay with grilled cheese," I call, then realize he's behind me, standing beside the table. I go to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Sawyer, did something happen?"
He looks down at me. His gray eyes flash, the storm in them raging. "Kiss me," he whispers.
"What?" It’s not his request that confuses me, but his tone.
"Please," he adds, and his plea hurts my heart.
I rise on my toes, bringing my mouth to his. He kisses me softly, lips gently yielding, his eyes closed. I keep mine open.
His arms encircle my waist and he lifts me, spinning us as one, until my back meets the wall. I grunt into his mouth at the contact, and his eyes open. He pulls back an inch to look at me. His expression is indecipherable, and I know something has upset him. Hurt him. He looks wounded.
His lips lower to my neck, and he kisses me roughly from my ear to my collarbone. Whatever happened, maybe it wasn't too terrible, not if it caused him to want me like this. I'm not minding this side of Sawyer at all.
He reaches for the bottom hem of my shirt and lifts it over my head. I help unclasp my bra, and his hands rake over my skin, cupping me. His head dips down, taking me into his mouth. I groan. He bites down, not hard but not exactly gentle, and I gasp at the pleasure mixed with pain. He maintains eye contact with me, his mouth sliding down my stomach. He eases my jeans down over my hips, leaving my underwear in place. His hot breath streams through the thin fabric. He presses his forehead to my stomach, as if he's attempting to gather himself. I open my mouth to say something, but I have no words.
And then I'm unable to speak. Sawyer is on his knees, his mouth is there, and though he's been in this position before, he's never been quite so… so… unrestrained. It isn't long before my legs are shaking and I'm pressing into the wall to stay upright.
Sawyer stands, but he doesn't look at me. He pulls me off the wall, spins me again, placing his hand on my back and bending me over the table. And once again, I don't mind.
He enters me harder than normal, but given everything that's led to this point, I'm expecting it. I even like it. Everything is good, until it's suddenly not. Until it hurts. I don't know if it's the angle, or the force of his thrusts, but I cry out in pain.
Sawyer freezes. He's still inside me. "Did I hurt you?"
I lift up on my forearms and nod. His body leaves mine, and he hauls me upright, pressing my back to his front.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters thickly. “So sorry."
"Sawyer, it's okay. It was an accident." A tiny drop of moisture wets my shoulder. I watch the tear roll down my arm. "What happened?"
"I can't tell you."
I turn around to face him. "You can't tell me?"
He shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. "Come on." He takes my hand, leading me into the bathroom, where he starts the shower. "I'll make you a grilled cheese while you shower."
