Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sawyer stood in his kitchen, nursing a glass of bourbon, when he heard a soft knock at the back door. His brow furrowed, and he set the glass on the counter, the amber liquid sloshing slightly.

He walked over to the door and peered through the small window, his gaze immediately landing Brynlee who stood on the patio outside. He pulled the door open and leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb, his eyes raking over her from head to toe as he studied her.

She looked up at him, one hand on her hip, her expression a mixture of impatience and frustration. "Well?"

Sawyer cocked an eyebrow, not saying a word. Brynlee huffed, her eyes flicking heavenward for a moment. With a little toss of her head, she turned to leave. In one swift motion, he snaked an arm around her waist and yanked her back inside. The door slammed shut behind her as he pulled her against him, their bodies colliding with a familiar heat.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sawyer's lips crashed onto hers in a hard, demanding kiss. It was a familiar dance, one he'd become used to over the past four months since she'd first come to him. Their relationship was a volatile storm of emotions, marked by fiery arguments and even fiercer reconciliations.

Every kiss was a battle, each of them fighting for supremacy and dominance. Their kiss deepened as they stumbled down the hallway, their movements a chaotic blend of urgency and desire. Brynlee's fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, while his hands roamed over her body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and contour. They broke apart only to catch their breath, the space between them charged with an electric tension.

Sawyer's mind raced as they neared the bedroom, the memories of their past encounters flooding back. The arguments, the passion, the nights spent in each other's arms—it all felt like a heady, intoxicating whirl. As they reached the doorway, he lifted Brynlee off her feet, carrying her the rest of the way to the bed.

He lay her down gently in the middle of the mattress, and their eyes locked for a brief moment. In that silence, an understanding passed between them. They both knew this was more than just a physical connection; it was a tempest of emotions neither could easily escape.

And as Sawyer leaned down to kiss her again, he knew that, for tonight at least, they would lose themselves in the storm once more.

* * *

Brynlee lay in Sawyer's bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She hated herself for being so weak, for coming to him again. Every time she swore it would be the last, and each time, she found herself back in his arms. The way he made her feel was the only thing that took the edge off, but deep down, she knew it could never happen again.

Sawyer lay next to her, one arm under her head. With his free hand he lightly coasted his fingers up and down her arm before dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

Her throat grew tight and she pushed to a sitting position, pulling the sheet with her. Sawyer’s hand trailed along her spine, tracing each vertebrae and turning her skin to fire.

“You can stay," he murmured.

Brynlee shook her head, sliding off the bed and reaching for her clothes. "I have an early morning," she lied.

She felt his eyes on her as she quickly dressed, then headed for the door. Pausing in the doorway, she turned to face him, her heart aching with a combination of guilt and regret. "Sawyer… This can't happen again."

He didn't respond, just watched her with those intense, piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through her. She turned away, leaving his house and locking the door behind her.

Outside, the cool night air hit her like a slap. She paused by the flowerbed in the backyard, the vibrant blooms swaying gently in the breeze. Unraveling the hose from the reel, she watered them, imagining she could feel Sawyer’s eyes on her from just a few feet away, watching every move she made.

Part of her wanted to go back to him, wanted him to ask her to stay again. She swallowed down the emotion in her throat. No matter how good they were in bed, they were all wrong for each other. She couldn’t keep doing this to herself.

Returning the hose to its rightful place, she rubbed at the space over her heart before crossing the patio and entering the kitchen of her own duplex.

Scooter greeted her, rubbing against her feet, purring loudly. This was one man she could count on. She scooped him up and cuddled him close, burying her face in his fur.

Inside the house, silence pressed in on her as she made her way toward her own bed and climbed inside. Scooter pranced and turned until he was comfortable, then curled up on the pillow next to her. But his presence was a small comfort. The bed felt even colder, the sheets a stark contrast to the warmth of Sawyer's embrace.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling once more, willing herself to stay strong, to resist the pull that always drew her back to him. Tonight had to be the last time. For her own sake, she had to let go. But as she closed her eyes, the memory of his touch lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the storm she was trying so hard to escape.