“What’s the big deal?” I grab for her arm, but she ducks under it, rushing to the window and opening it.
“We’re not a couple. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.” Her words catch me off guard, giving her a chance to slip out the window like a thief in the night.
I poke my head out the window to make sure she’s okay, thankful that we are on the first floor. When I see her blonde hair duck around the corner, I slam the window shut and stomp to the door, unlocking it before pulling it open.
“What are you doing in here, Dawson?” Dean enters his office, his eyes scanning the room. “Are you alone? I heard some noises coming from inside that suspiciously sounded like sex sounds.”
Great, how do I explain to my brother that he must be hearing things, so I don’t sound like some kind of pervert who pleasures himself in his brother’s office?
“You must be hearing things,” I say, brushing past him before he can ask any more questions.
I push my way through the bar and out into the night, walking the three blocks to Esme’s house to make sure she made it home safely. I stand across the street watching as her bedroom light turns off, wishing I could be in there with her instead of on the outside looking in, knowing I can’t go on like this—being her friend with benefits.
five
Esme
“Would you like todance, pretty lady?” It’s the fifth firefighter tonight who has asked me to dance. And it’s the fifth firefighter I’m going to turn down.
“Thanks, but I’m not dancing tonight.” I take a sip of my ice water.
“Your loss.” The cocky jerk has the nerve to say like I’ll regret turning him down.
What I do regret is letting Lainey and Marigold talk me into being the fifth wheel on their double date. How I let them talk me into putting on this short, tight dress and joining them and their boyfriends at the winery for their inaugural wine and music night is beyond me.
The winery space is perfect for hosting wedding receptions, family reunions, or even work events. The band they hired for tonight is a local group that plays for fun. But you'd think they were professional.
Watching Lainey and Marigold dance with their big mountain men makes me think about my lumberjack and how I snuck out a window so no one would find us together. He must think I’m a total jerk.
It’s been over a week since it happened. I’ve stopped myself a dozen times from asking Lainey to get his number from Dean, but I couldn’t come up with a good reason why I’d need it, since I’ve made sure no one knows about our friends-with-benefits arrangement.
Part of me had hoped Dawson would come to me and declare his undying love. I imagined throwing my arms around him and admitting how stupid I was to want only sex from him. He would forgive me, and we would laugh about it.
As if just thinking about Dawson conjured him up, he walks into the winery wearing black pants and a black button-down long-sleeve shirt, rolled up to his elbows, looking sexier than I remember.
My feet move automatically as I jump out of my chair and rush to Dawson’s side. “Dawson, you’re here.” He barely glances in my direction, tips his head, and keeps walking, acting like we're just acquaintances and I didn’t just have his dick in my mouth a week ago. I follow after him, unsure what to do next. He heads down a dimly lit hallway that looks like it’s for staff only, and like a love-sick puppy, I follow him. “Dawson, talk to me.” I reach out and grab his arm, but he jerks away. Instead, he spins around, grabs my hand, and pulls me into a small closet filled with linens.
“Is this what you want?” He shoves my skirt up to my waist, then unbuckles his pants, freeing his hard length. My throat goes dry, remembering the weight of him in my mouth. He pushes my lacy underwear to the side and slams into me, his cock filling me. “Someone to fuck you in a dark closet. A dirty little secret.” His lips crash down on my neck, sucking on the soft skin like he’s trying to brand me. He lifts one of my legs up, giving him a better angle to push into me deeper and harder. It feels like a punishment, but God help me, I love every minute of it. But I want more. I want to hold hands in public, dance all night in front of our family and friends, and then go home to our bed. I want it all. I open my mouth to tell him that, but his thrustssilence me. His hoarse groan as he comes inside of me sends me over the edge, and I follow him with my own climax. He drops my leg, pushing away from me, the dim light of the closet casting shadows on his face as he zips up his pants and buckles them before opening the door, leaving me leaning against the closet wall. He stops but doesn’t turn to look at me, “This was the last time. I can’t do this anymore. I want more than to be your fuck buddy.”
He stomps down the hall as I try to straighten my skirt. I rush after him, but his strides are too long—I can’t catch up. Out of desperation, I search the reception hall for any kind of lifeline when I finally see it.
The band happens to be on break, so I rush onto the stage and grab the microphone. “Dawson, stop!” I yell into the mic, causing the whole room to go silent. “Please,” I add when he doesn’t stop. The please must do it because he finally turns around with his arms crossed over his chest glaring at me.
Knowing this is my only chance, I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “I love you, Dawson. You’re not my dirty little secret. I want you in my life, as my boyfriend, partner, or husband. I want to go to bed at night wrapped in your arms and wake up the same way.” Dawson’s arms drop to his sides as he takes a step closer to me. Without hesitation, I drop the mic and run toward Dawson, stopping when I’m right in front of him.
“Do you mean it?” The uncertainty is back in his eyes.
“Every word of it.” I nod, tears streaming down my face. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Esme.” He steps toward me, closing the gap, and wraps his arms around me, placing a soft kiss on my lips as the people around us cheer.
“All right, everyone, settle down. The show is over. It’s time for some more music," the lead singer of the band announces into the microphone. The gentle notes of a love song fill the air.
“May I have this dance?” Dawson whispers against my lips.
“Always,” I whisper back.
Epilogue - Dawson
