There’s the minor problem of me fucking his sister, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I inwardly cringe at the thought of him learning about it, though.
“Thanks, man, same to you. Let me know your next day off, and we can do this again.” I hoist myself off the ground, groaning in a way that makes me feel every one of my thirty-seven years.
“Sounds good.” He stays splayed out, breathing heavily.
I only have one thing on my mind at the moment. The second Willow’s name popped into my head, I knew I had to see her.
It’s become a routine for us, sure, but it’s more than that. My body is clearer since my talk with Sheriff, but my mind needs Willow. She calms me, and I desperately need some of that right now. I just hope I can actually get out of my head and not take it out on her.
Chapter 13
Willow
Something is up with Oakley.
It’s not like I expect to have his undivided attention every single day, but it was his whole demeanor at Grind Time that has me worried.
The problem is, I can’t just barge over there demanding he talk to me just because I’m worried about him. We’re just hooking up and haven’t spoken a word of anything more than that. He doesn’t owe me any explanations.
So, here I sit, leg bouncing uncontrolled on my couch, thinking of Oakley when I should be writing. But I can’t focus. All I can think about is what I can do to help him—whether that’s getting him to talk to me or distracting him, I don’t care.
And that’s a huge problem. Because we haven’t promised each other anything other than amazing sex. I’m dangerously close to uncharted territory here. Shit, I think I’m already past it if I’m being honest with myself.
I throw my head back against the couch and let out a sigh.
What the fuck am I doing here? I’m supposed to be talking to Oakley to get this damn book done. I was never supposed to fall into his bed, let alone every night after. This whole thing screams heartbreak. He’s never gotten close to anyone in Bluebell Falls because of his past, and I get thatnow, but it also doesn’t mean he’s going to magically change what he wants just because the sex is that incredible.
And what about what you want, Will?
Another sigh.Wonderful question, self. Why don’t we analyze that?I roll my eyes. But it’s a good question, and the answer is glaringly obvious now that I’m forcing myself to think about it.
I want James Oakley. Not just in his bed, but I want to go on a date, maybe go for a hike. I stop myself—maybe not a hike. I know I couldn’t keep up with him. Laughter escapes through my tumultuous thoughts. God, he’s messed me up really good if I’m thinking about hiking with him.
A knock at the door disrupts my thoughts.
I swear to God, if it’s Rina coming here to pester me about what’s going on with Oakley, I’m going to scream.
I take my sweet-ass time walking to the door, deciding that if I’m going to have to listen to her, making her wait is my only petty move.
The knock sounds again, and I groan. “I’m coming. Jeez, chill out.”
I rip the front door open and am startled to see Oakley, not Rina, standing on my front porch.
“Oh!”Oh?That’s all I can say? I mentally chastise myself for my earlier thoughts that are now making me second-guess everything I say to this man.
He stares at me a beat longer than normal and then steps over the threshold, sliding his hand into my hair and slamming his lips against mine. I hear the door slam, but my focus is on the intensity I feel coming off of him.
I run my hands up his muscled arms, up the side of his neck, and into his slightly damp hair, telling me he came straight here after a shower.His hand not tangled in my hair moves to my ass and picks me up. My legs wrap around his hips, and I hold on while he makes his way to the living room.
Ripping his lips from mine, he almost stumbles over my coffee table. “Bedroom. Where?”
“Hallway on the left.”
He barely shifts his eyes from mine before heading in the correct direction. It’s wildly attractive how he just muscles me around, keeping all his attention on me.
He once again sends me flying onto the bed the second he gets to my room. I meet his eyes, seeing his pupils are completely blown, lust warring with something else I can’t make out.
“Strip.” One word, and I don’t dare disobey.
